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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..14f62ce --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #61984 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/61984) diff --git a/old/61984-0.txt b/old/61984-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 17bd095..0000000 --- a/old/61984-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11593 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sylvia, by Upton Sinclair - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Sylvia - A Novel - -Author: Upton Sinclair - -Release Date: April 30, 2020 [EBook #61984] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SYLVIA *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, MWS, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - SYLVIA - - - - - _By Upton Sinclair_ - - - SYLVIA - LOVE’S PILGRIMAGE - PLAYS OF PROTEST - THE FASTING CURE - THE JUNGLE - THE INDUSTRIAL REPUBLIC - THE METROPOLIS - THE MONEYCHANGERS - SAMUEL THE SEEKER - KING MIDAS - PRINCE HAGEN - THE JOURNAL OF ARTHUR STIRLING - MANASSAS - THE OVERMAN - - - - - SYLVIA - _A NOVEL_ - - - ——BY—— - - UPTON SINCLAIR - - - THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY - PHILADELPHIA CHICAGO - - - - - Copyright, 1913, by - THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. - - - Published, May 15, 1913 - First Printing, April, 1913. Second Printing, May, 1913 - Third Printing, May, 1913 - - - - - TO - THE PEOPLE AT HOME - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS - - - BOOK I - - SYLVIA LOVES 11 - - - BOOK II - - SYLVIA LINGERS 147 - - - BOOK III - - SYLVIA LOSES 277 - - - - - SYLVIA - - - - - BOOK I - _Sylvia Loves_ - - - § 1 - -This is the story of Sylvia Castleman, of her love and her marriage. The -story goes back to the days of her golden youth; but it has to be told -by an old woman who had no youth at all, and who never dreamed of having -a story to tell. It begins with scenes of luxury among the proudest -aristocracy of the South; it is told by one who for the first thirty -years of her life was a farmer’s wife in a lonely pioneer homestead in -Manitoba, and who, but for the pictures and stories in magazines, would -never have known that such a world as Sylvia Castleman’s existed. - -Yet I believe that I can tell her story. Eight years of it I lived with -her, so intensely that it became as my own existence to me. And the rest -I gathered from her lips, even to the tiniest details. For years I went -about my daily tasks with Sylvia’s memories as a kind of radiance about -me, like a rainbow that shimmers over the head of a plodding traveler. -In the time that I knew her, I never came to the end of her picturesque -adventures, nor did I ever know what it was to be bored by them. The -incident might be commonplace—a bit of a flirtation, the ordering of a -costume, the blunder of a negro servant; but it was always Sylvia who -was telling it—there was always the sparkle of her eyes, the mischievous -smile, the swift glow of her countenance. And as the story progressed, -suddenly would come some incident so wild that it would make you catch -your breath; some fantastic, incredible extravagance; some strange, -quixotic trait of character. You would find yourself face to face with -an attitude to life out of the Middle Ages, with some fierce, vivid -passion that carried you back even farther. - -What a world it is! I know that it exists—for Sylvia took me home with -her twice. I saw the Major wearing his faded gray uniform (it was -“Reunion Day”) and discoursing upon the therapeutic qualities of “hot -toddies.” I watched the negro boy folding and unfolding the newspaper, -because Mrs. Castleman was obeying her physician and avoiding -unnecessary exertion. I shook hands with Master Castleman Lysle, whose -names were reversed by special decree of the state legislature, so that -the memory of his distinguished ancestress might be preserved to -posterity. And yet it will always seem like a fairy-story world to me. I -can no more believe in the courtly Bishop, praying over my unrepentant -head, than I can believe in Don Quixote. As for “Uncle Mandeville”—I -could more easily persuade myself that I once talked with Pan Zagloba in -the flesh. - -I have Sylvia’s picture on my desk—the youthful picture that means so -much to me, with its strange mixture of coquetry and wistfulness, of -mischief and tenderness. Downstairs in the dining-room is the portrait -of Lady Lysle, which is so much like her that strangers always mistook -it. And if that be not enough, now and then Elaine steals into my room, -and, silent as a shadow, takes her seat upon the little stool beside me, -watching me with her sightless eyes. Her fingers fly swiftly at her -knitting, and for hours, if need be, she moves nothing else. She knows -by the sound of my pen that I am busy; with the wonderful acuteness of -the blind she knows whether I am successful or not, whether what I write -be joyous or painful. - -How much she knows—much more than I dream, perhaps! I wonder about it, -but I never ask her. Both Frank and I have tried to talk to her, but we -cannot; it is cowardly, pitiful, perhaps—but we cannot! She used to ask -questions in the beginning, but she must have felt our pain, for she -asks no more; she simply haunts our home, the incarnation of the -tragedy. So much of her mother she has—the wonderful red-brown eyes, the -golden hair, the mobile, delicate features. But the sparkle of the eyes -and the glow in the cheeks, the gaiety, the rapture—where are they? When -I think of this, I clutch my hands in a sort of spasm, and go to my work -again. - -Or perhaps I go into Frank’s den and see him sitting there, with his -haggard, brooding face, his hair that turned gray in one week. He never -asks the question, but I see it in his eyes: “How much have you done -to-day?” A cruel taskmaster is that face of Frank’s! He is haunted by -the thought that I may not live to finish the story. - -The hardest thing of all will be to make you see Sylvia as she was in -that wild, wonderful youth of hers, when she was the belle of her state, -when the suitors crowded about her like moths about a candle-flame. How -shall one who is old and full of bitter memories bring back the magic -spirit of youth, the glamor and the glow of it, the terrifying -blindness, the torrent-like rush, the sheer, quivering ecstasy of it? - -What words shall I choose to bring before you the joyfulness of Sylvia? -When I first met her she was twenty-six, and had known the kind of -sorrow that eats into a woman’s soul as acid might eat into her eyes; -and yet you would think she had never been touched by pain—she moved -through life, serene, unflinching, a lamp of cheerfulness to every soul -who knew her. I met her and proceeded to fall in love with her like the -veriest schoolgirl; I would go away and think of her, and clasp my hands -together in delight. There was one word that kept coming to me; I would -repeat it over and over again—“Happy! Happy! Happy!” She was the -happiest soul that I have ever known upon the earth; a veritable -fountain of joy. - -I say that much; and then I hasten to correct it. It seems to be easy -for some people to smile. There comes to me another word that I used to -find myself repeating about Sylvia. She was wise! She was wise! She was -wise with a strange, uncanny wisdom, the wisdom of ages upon ages of -womanhood—women who have been mothers and counselors and homekeepers, -but above all, women who have been managers of men! Oh, what a manager -of men was Sylvia! For the most part, she told me, she managed them for -their own good; but now and then the irresistible imp of mischievousness -broke loose in her, and then she managed them any way at all, so long as -she managed them! - -Yet that, too, does her less than justice, I think. For you might search -all over the states of the South, where she lived and visited, and where -now they mention her name only in whispers; and nowhere, I wager, could -you find a man who had ceased to love her. You might find hundreds who -would wish to God that she were alive again, so that they might run away -with her. For that is the third thing to be noted about Sylvia -Castleman—that she was good. She was so good that when you knew her you -went down upon your knees before her, and never got up again. How many -times I have seen the tears start into her eyes over the memory of what -the imp of mischievousness and the genius of management had made her do -to men! How many times have I heard her laughter, as she told how she -broke their hearts, and then used her tears for cement to patch them up -again! - - - § 2 - -I realize that I must make some effort to tell you how she looked. But -when I think of words—how futile, stale and shopworn seem all the words -that come to me. In my early days my one recreation was cheap -paper-covered novels and historical romances, from which I got my idea -of the _grand monde_. Now, when I try to think of words with which to -describe Sylvia, it is their words that come to me. I know that a -heroine must be slender and exquisite, must be sensitive and haughty and -aristocratic. Sylvia was all this, in truth; but how shall I bring to -you the thrill of wonder that came to me when I encountered her—that -living joy she was to me forever after, so different from anything the -books had ever brought me! - -She was tall and very straight, free in her carriage; her look, her -whole aspect was quick and eager. I sit and try to analyze her charm, -and I think the first quality was the sense she gave you of cleanness. I -lived with her much; I saw her, not merely made up for parties, but as -she opened her eyes in the morning; and I cannot recall that I ever saw -about her any of those things that offend us in the body. Her eyes were -always clear, her skin always fair; I never saw her with a cold, or -heard her speak of a headache. If she were tired, she would not tell you -so—at least, not if she thought you needed her. If there was anything -the matter with her, there was only one way you found it out—that she -stopped eating. - -She would do that at home, when someone was ill and she was under a -strain. She would literally fade away before your eyes—but still just as -cheerful and brave, laughing at the protests of the doctors, the -outcries of her aunts and her colored “aunties.” At such times she had a -quite new kind of beauty, that seemed to strike men dumb; she used to -make merry over it, saying that she could go out when other women had to -shut themselves behind curtains. For thinness brought out every line of -her exquisitely chiseled features; every quiver of her soul seemed to -show—her tense, swift being was as if cut there in living marble, and -she was some unearthly creature, wraith-like, wonderful, thrilling. -There were poets in Castleman County; they would meet her in this -depleted state, and behave after the fashion of poets in semi-tropical -climates—stand with their knees knocking and the perspiration oozing out -upon their foreheads; they would wander off by moonlight-haunted streams -and compose enraptured verses, and come back and fall upon their knees -and implore her to accept the poor, feeble tribute of their adoration. - -I have seen her, too, when she was strong and happy, and then she would -be well-made and shapely, with a charm of a more earthly sort. Then her -color would be like the roses she always carried; and in each of her -cheeks would appear the most adorable of dimples, and under her chin -another. She had a nose that was very straight and finely carved; and -right in the center, under the tip, the sculptor had put a tiny little -groove. She had also a chin that was very straight, and right in the -center of this was a corresponding little groove. You will laugh -perhaps; but those touches added marvelously to the expressiveness of -her countenance. How they would shift and change when, for instance, her -nostrils quivered with anger, or when the imp of mischievousness took -possession of her, and the network of quaint wrinkles gathered round her -eyes! - -Dimples, I know, are an ultra-feminine property; but Sylvia’s face was -not what is ordinarily called feminine—it was a kind of face that -painters would give to a young boy singing in a church. I used to tell -her that it was the kind they gave to angels of the higher orders; -whereupon she would put her arms about me and whisper, “You old goose!” -She had a pair of the strangest red-brown eyes, soft and tender; and -then suddenly lighting up—shining, shining! - -I don’t know if I make you see her. I can add only one detail more, the -one that people talked of most—her hair. You may see her hair, very -beautifully done, in the portrait of Lady Lysle. The artist was shrewd -and put the great lady in a morning robe, standing by the open window, -the sunlight falling upon a cascade of golden tresses. The color of -Sylvia’s hair was toned down when I knew her, but they told me that in -her prime it had been vivid to outrageousness. I sit before the -painting, and the present slips away and I see her as she was in the -glow of her youth—eager, impetuous, swept with gusts of merriment and -tenderness, like a mountain lake in April. - -So the old chroniclers report her, nine generations back, when she came -over to marry the Governor of Massachusetts! They have her wedding gown -preserved in a Boston Museum, and the Lysles have a copy of it, so that -each generation can be married in one like it. But Sylvia was the first -it became, being the first blonde since her great progenitor. How -strange seems such a whim of heredity—not merely the color of the hair -and eyes, the cut of the features, but a whole character, a personality -hidden away somewhere in the germ-plasm, and suddenly breaking out, -without warning, after a couple of hundred years! - - - § 3 - -When I think of Sylvia’s childhood and all the hairbreadth escapes of -which she told me, I marvel that she ever came to womanhood. It would -seem to be a perilous part of the world to raise children in, with -horses and dogs and guns, and so many half-tamed negroes—to say nothing -of all the half-tamed white people. Sylvia had three younger sisters and -whole troops of cousins—the Bishop’s eleven children, and the children -of Barry Chilton, his brother. I picture their existence as one long -series of perilous escapes, with runaway horses, kicking mules and -biting dogs, and negroes who shot and stabbed one another in sudden, -ferocious brawls, or set fire to Castleman Hall in order that some other -negro might be suspected and lynched. - -Also there were the more subtle perils of the pantry and the green-apple -orchard. I did not see any accident during my brief stay at the place, -but I saw the dietetic ferocities of the family and marveled at them. It -seemed to me that the life of that most precious of infants, Castleman -Lysle, was one endless succession of adventures with mustard and ipecac -and castor oil. I want somehow to make you realize this world of -Sylvia’s, and I don’t know how I can do it better than by telling of my -first vision of that future heir of all the might, majesty and dominion -of the Lysles. It was one of the rare occasions when the Major was -taking him on a journey. The old family horses were hitched to the old -family carriage, and with a negro on the box, another walking at the -horses’ heads, a third riding on a mule behind, and a fourth sent ahead -to notify the police, the procession set forth to the station. I know -quite well that I shall be called a liar; yet I can only give my solemn -word that I saw it with my own eyes—the chief of police, duly notified, -had informed all the officers on duty, and the population of a bustling -town of forty thousand inhabitants, in the United States of America in -the twentieth century, were politely requested not to drive automobiles -along the principal avenue during the half hour that it took to convey -Master Lysle to the train! And of course such a “request” was a command -to all the inhabitants who were genteel enough to own automobiles. Was -not this the grandson of the late General Castleman, the grand-nephew of -a former territorial governor? Was he not the heir of the largest, the -oldest and the most famous plantation in the county, the future -dispenser of favors and arbiter of social fates? Was he not, -incidentally, the brother of the loveliest girl in the state, to whom -most of the automobile owners in the town had made violent love? - -I would like to tell more about that world and Sylvia’s experiences in -it—some of those amazing tales! Of the negro boy who bit a piece out of -the baby’s leg, because he had heard someone say that the baby looked -sweet enough to eat; of the negro girl who heard a war-story about “a -train of gun-powder,” and proceeded with Sylvia’s aid to lay such a -train from the cellar to the attic of the house. I would like to tell -the whole story of her girlhood, and the strange ideas they taught her; -but I have to pick and choose, saving my space for the things that are -necessary to the understanding of her character. - -Sylvia’s education was a decidedly miscellaneous one at first. “I think -it is time the child had some regular training,” her great-aunt, Lady -Dee, would say to the child’s mother. “Yes, I suppose you are right,” -would be the answer. But then Lady Dee would go, and Major Castleman -would come in, observing, “It’s marvelous the way that child picks -things up, Miss Margaret.” (A habit from his courtship days, you -understand.) “We must be careful not to overstimulate her mind.” To -which his wife would respond, agreeably, “I’m sure you know best, Mr. -Castleman.” - -Every morning Sylvia would go with her father on his rounds to interview -the managers of the three plantations; the Major in his black broadcloth -frock-coat, a wide black hat and a white “bosom” shirt, riding horseback -with an umbrella over his head, and followed at a respectful distance by -his “boy” upon a mule. On these excursions Sylvia would recite the -multiplication table, and receive lessons in the history of her country, -from the point of view of its unreconstructed minority. Also she had -lessons on this subject from her great-aunt, who never paid one of her -numerous servants their small quarterly stipend that she did not -exclaim: “Oh, how I _hate_ the Yankees!” - -I must not delay to introduce this great-aunt, who was Sylvia’s -monitress in the arts and graces of life, and left her on her death-bed -such a curious heritage of worldliness. Lady Dee was the last surviving -member of a younger branch of the line of the Lysles. She was not a real -countess, like her great ancestress; the name “Lady” had been given her -in baptism. Early in the last century she had come over the mountains in -a lumbering coach, with an escort of mounted riders, to marry the -Surveyor General of the Territory. She still had a picture of this -coach, along with innumerable other treasures in cedar chests in her -attic: fan-sticks of carved ivory, inlaid with gold; gold garter buckles -with wonderful enameling; old seals and silver snuff-boxes; rare jewels, -such as white topazes and red amethysts; and a whole trunkful of the -curious tiny silk parasols with which great ladies used to protect their -creamy complexions—no more than ten inches across, and with handles of -inlaid and carven ivory. When Sylvia was a little girl with two pigtails -hanging down her back, it was one of the joys of her life to explore -these treasures, and deck herself in faded ball costumes and chains of -jewels and gold. - -Also, from Lady Dee she received contributions to her moral training; -not in set discourses, but incidentally and by allusions. Rummaging in -the cedar chests she once came upon a miniature which she had never seen -before; a lady in whom she recognized the eyes of the Lysles, and the -arrogance which all their portraits show. “Who is this, Aunt Lady?” she -asked; and the old gentlewoman frowned and answered, “We never speak of -her, my dear. She is the one woman who ever disgraced our name.” - -Sylvia hesitated a long time before she spoke again. She had heard much -of family skeletons in the table-talk—but always other families. “What -did she do?” she asked, at last. - -“She was married to three men,” was the reply. - -Again Sylvia hesitated. “You mean,” she ventured—“you mean—at the same -time?” - -Lady Dee stared. “No, my dear,” she said, gravely. “Her husbands died.” - -“But—but—” began the other, timidly, groping to find her way in a -strange field of thought. - -“If she had been a woman of delicacy,” pronounced Lady Dee, “she would -have been true to one love.” Then, after a pause, she added, solemnly, -“Remember this, my child. Think before you choose, for the women of our -family are like Sterne’s starling—when they have once entered their -cage, they never come out.” - -It was Lady Dee who objected to the desultory nature of Sylvia’s -education, and began a campaign, as a result of which the Major sent her -off to a “college” at the age of thirteen. You must not be frightened by -this imposing statement, for it is easy to call yourself a “college” in -the South. Sylvia was away for three years, during which she really -studied, and acquired much more than the usual accomplishments of a -young lady. - -She had an extraordinarily capable mind; serene and efficient, like -everything else about her. When I met her I was a woman of forty-five, -who a few years before had broken with my whole past, having discovered -the universe of knowledge. I had been like a starving person breaking -into a well-filled larder, and stuffing myself greedily and -promiscuously. I had taken upon myself the task of contending with other -people’s prejudices, and my rapture over Sylvia Castleman was partly the -realization that here was a woman—actually a woman—who had no prejudices -whatever. She wanted me to tell her all I knew; and it was a great -delight to expound to her a new set of ideas, and see her mind go from -point to point, leaping swiftly, laying hold of details, ordering, -comparing—above all, applying. That you may have a picture of this mind -in action, let me tell you what she did in her girlhood, all -unassisted—how she broke with the religion of her forefathers. - - - § 4 - -That brings me to the Bishop, Basil Chilton, who had come into the -family by marriage to one of Sylvia’s aunts. At the time of his marriage -he had been a young Louisiana planter, handsome and fascinating. He had -met Nannie Castleman at a ball, and at four o’clock in the morning had -secured her promise to marry him before sunset. People said that he was -half drunk at the time, and this was probably a moderate estimate, for -he had been wholly drunk for a year or two afterwards. Then he had shot -a man in a brawl and, despite the fact that he was a gentleman, had -almost been punished for it. The peril had sobered him; a month or two -later, at a Methodist revival, he was converted, made a sensational -confession of his sins, and then, to the horror of his friends, became a -preacher of Methodism. - -To the Castlemans this was a calamity—to Lady Dee a personal affront. -“Whoever heard of a gentleman who was a Methodist?” she demanded; and as -the convert had no precedents to cite, she quarreled with him and for -many years never spoke his name. Also it was hard upon Nannie -Castleman—who had entered her cage and had to stay! They had compromised -on the bargain that the children were to be brought up in her own faith, -which was Very High Church. So now the unhappy preacher, later Bishop, -sat in his study and wrote his sermons, while one by one his eleven -children came of age, and danced and gambled and drank themselves to -perdition in the very best form imaginable. When I met the family, the -last of the daughters, Caroline, was just making her _début_, and her -mother, nearly sixty, was the gayest dancer on the floor. It was the -joke of the county, how the family automobile would first take the -Bishop to prayer meeting, and then return to take the mother and the -children to a ball. - -Basil Chilton looked like an old-world diplomat, as I had come to -conceive that personage from reading novels. He had the most charming -manners—the kind of manners which cannot be cultivated, but come from -nobility of soul. He was gentle and gracious even to servants; and yet -imposing, with his stately figure and smooth, ascetic face, lined by -care. He lived just a pony-ride from Castleman Hall, and almost every -morning during vacations Sylvia would stop and spend a little while with -him. People said that he loved her more than any of his own children. - -So you can imagine what it meant when one day the girl said to him, -“Uncle Basil, I have something to tell you. I’ve been thinking about it, -and I’ve made up my mind that I don’t believe in either heaven or hell.” - -Where had she got such an idea? She had certainly not learned it at the -“college,” for the institution was “denominational” and had no -text-books of later date than 1850. Somewhere she had found a volume of -Huxley’s “Lay Sermons,” but she had got nothing out of that, for the -Major had discovered her reading page three, and had solemnly consigned -the book to the flames. No, it was simply that she had been thinking for -herself. - -The Bishop took it well. He did not try to frighten her, he did not even -show her his distress of mind. He told her that she was an angel, the -very soul of purity and goodness, and that God would surely lead her to -truth if only she kept herself humble. As Sylvia put it to me: “He knew -that I would come back, and I knew that I would never come back.” - -And that was the situation between them to the very end—the bitter end. -He always believed that she would learn to see things as he saw them. He -died a year or so ago, the courtly old gentleman—consoled by the thought -that he was now to meet his God and Sylvia face to face, and hear the -former explain to the latter the difference between Divine Law and mere -human ideas of Justice. - -The rest of the family were not so patient as the Bishop. To have a -heretic in the household was even worse than having a Methodist! Mrs. -Castleman, who agreed with the Bible as she agreed with everything, was -dumb with bewilderment; while the Major set to work to hunt out dusty -volumes from the attic. He read every word of Paley’s “Evidences” aloud -to his daughter, and some of Gladstone’s essays, and several other -books, the very names of which she forgot. You may smile at this -picture, but it was a serious matter to the Castlemans, who had based -their morality upon the fear of fire and brimstone and the weeping and -gnashing of teeth, and who kept Sylvia three months from school to -impress such images upon her imagination. - -There were several religious sects represented in the county. These were -generally at war with one another, but they all made common cause in -this emergency, and committees of old ladies from the “Christians,” the -“hard-shell Baptists,” the “predestination Presbyterians,” would come to -condole with “Miss Margaret,” and would kneel down in the parlor with -Sylvia and pray for her salvation, shedding tears over the cream velour -upholstery of the hand-carved mahogany sofas. A distant cousin who was -“in orders,” a young gentleman of charming presence and special training -in dialectics, was called in to answer the arguments of this wayward -young lady, and stayed for three days, probing deeply into his patient’s -mind—not merely her theological beliefs, but the attitude to life which -underlay them. When he had finished he said to her, “My dear Sylvia, it -is my opinion that you are the most dangerous person in this county.” -She told me the story, and added, “I hadn’t the remotest idea what the -man meant!” But I answered her that he had been perfectly right. In -truth, he was a seer, that young clergyman! - - - § 5 - -There was a general feeling that Sylvia had learned more than was good -for her; and so the family made inquiries, and selected the most -exclusive and expensive “finishing school” in New York, for the purpose -of putting a stop to her intellectual development. And so we come to the -beginning of Sylvia’s wordly career, and to the visit she paid to Lady -Dee—who now, at the age of ninety, felt herself failing rapidly, and -wished to leave to her great-niece her treasures of worldly counsel. - -Lady Dee was one of those quaint figures you meet in the South, who go -to balls and parties when they are old enough to be sewing the -_layettes_ of their great-grandchildren. I have seen a picture of her at -the age of eighty-five, in a cerise-colored silk ball-gown with a lace -“bertha,” her white hair curled in front and done in a pile with a -coronet of diamonds. You must imagine her now, in an invalid’s chair -upon the gallery, but still with her hair dressed as of old; telling to -Sylvia tales of her own young ladyhood—and incidentally, with such -deftness that the girl never guessed her purpose, introducing -instruction in the strategy and tactics of the sex war. - -Life was short, according to Lady Dee, and the future was uncertain. A -woman bloomed but once, and must make the most of that. To be the center -of events during her hour, that was life’s purpose; and to achieve it, -it was necessary to know how to hold men. Men were sometimes said to be -strange and difficult creatures, but in reality they were simple and -easily handled. The trouble was that most women went blindly at the -task, instead of availing themselves of the wisdom which their sex had -been storing up for ages, in the minds of such authorities as Lady Dee. - -The old lady went on to expound the science of coquetry. I had read of -the sex game, as it is played in the _grand monde_, but I had never -supposed that the players were as conscious and deliberate as this -veteran expert. She even used the language of battle: “A woman’s shield, -my child, is her innocence; her sharpest weapon is her _naïveté_. The -way to disarm a man’s suspicions is to tell him what you’re doing to -him—then you’re sure he won’t believe it!” - -She would go into minute details of these Amazonian arts: how to beguile -a man, how to promise to marry him without really promising, how to keep -him at the proper temperature by judicious applications of jealousy. Nor -was this sex war to stop after the wedding ceremony—when most women -foolishly laid down their weapons. A woman must sleep in her armor, -according to Lady Dee. She must never let her husband know how much she -loved him, she must make him think of her as something rare and -unattainable, she must keep him in a state where her smile was the -greatest thing in life to him. Said the old lady, gravely: “The women of -our family are famous for henpecking their husbands—they don’t even take -the trouble to hide it. I’ve heard your grandfather, the General, say -that it was all right for a man to be henpecked, if only it was by the -right hen.” - -A training, you perceive, of a decidedly worldly character; and yet -there was nothing upon which Sylvia’s relatives laid more stress than -the preserving of what they called her “innocence.” There were wild -people in this part of the world—high-spirited and hot-tempered, hard -drinkers and fast livers; there were deeds of violence, and strange and -terrible tales that you might hear. But when these tales had anything to -do with sex, they were carefully kept from Sylvia’s ears. Only once had -this rule been broken—an occasion which made a great impression upon the -child. The daughter of one of the neighboring families had eloped, and -the dreadful rumor was whispered that she had traveled in a sleeping-car -with the man, and been married at the end of the journey, instead of at -the beginning. - -And there was Uncle Mandeville, the youngest of the Major’s -brothers—half drunk, though Sylvia did not know it—pacing the veranda -and discussing the offending bridegroom. “He should have been shot!” -cried Mandeville. “The damned scoundrel, he should have been shot like a -dog!” And suddenly he paused before the startled child. He was a giant -of a man, and his voice had the power of a church-organ. He placed his -hands upon Sylvia’s shoulders, pronouncing in solemn tones, “Little -girl, I want you to know that I will protect the honor of the women of -our family with my life! Do you understand me, little girl?” - -And Sylvia, awe-stricken, answered, “Yes, Uncle Mandeville.” The worthy -gentleman was so much moved by his own nobility and courage that the -tears stood in his eyes; he went on, melodramatically, “With my life! -With my life! And remember the boast of the Castlemans—that there was -never a man in our family who broke his word, nor a woman with a stain -upon her name!” - -That had been in Sylvia’s childhood. But now she was a young lady, about -to start for the metropolis, and the family judged that the time had -come for her to be instructed in some of these delicate matters. There -had been consultations between her mother and aunts, in which the former -had been prodded on to the performing of one of the most difficult of -all maternal duties. Sylvia remembered the occasion vividly, for her -mother’s agitation was painful to witness; she led the girl solemnly -into a darkened room, and casting down her eyes, as if she were -confessing a crime, she said: - -“My child, you will probably hear evil-minded girls talking of things of -which my little daughter has never heard. When these things are -discussed, I want you to withdraw quietly from the company. You should -remain away until vulgar topics have been dismissed from the -conversation. I want your promise to do this, my daughter.” - -Her mother’s sense of shame had communicated itself to Sylvia. At first -she had been staring wonderingly, but now she cast down her own eyes. -She gave the desired promise; and that was all the education concerning -sex that she had during her girlhood. This experience determined her -attitude for many years—a mingling of shame and fear. The time had come -for her to face the facts of her own physical development, and she did -so with agony of soul, and in her ignorance came near to injuring her -bodily health. - -Also, the talk had another consequence, over which Mrs. Castleman would -have been sorely distressed had she known it. Though the girl tried her -best, it was impossible for her to avoid hearing some of the “vulgar” -conversation of the very sophisticated young ladies at the “finishing -school.” In spite of herself, she learned something of what sex and -marriage meant—enough to make her flesh creep and her cheeks burn with -horror and disgust. It seemed to her that she could no longer bear to -meet and talk to men. When she came home for the Christmas holidays and -discovered that her mother was expecting a child, the thought of what -this meant filled her with shame for both her parents; she wondered how -they could expect a pure-minded girl to love them, when they had so -degraded themselves. So intense was this impression that it continued -over the Easter vacation, when she returned to find the house in -possession of the new heir of all the might, majesty and dominion of the -Lysles. - - - § 6 - -Miss Abercrombie’s “finishing school” was located on Fifth Avenue, -immediately opposite—so the catalogue informed you—to the mansions of -the oldest Knickerbocker families. It was Miss Abercrombie’s boast that -she had married more than half her young ladies to millionaires, and she -took occasion to drop allusions to the subject to all whom it might -interest. She ran her establishment upon an ingenious plan, about half -her pupils being the daughters of Western buccaneers, who paid high -prices, and the other half being the daughters of Southern aristocrats, -accepted at reduced rates. So the young ladies from the West got the -“real thing” in refinement, and the young ladies from the South made -acquaintances whose brothers were “eligible.” - -Sylvia had always had everything that she wanted, and was under the -impression that immense sums of money had been spent upon her -upbringing. But among these new associates she found herself in the -class of the poorest. She had never owned a dress which they would -consider expensive, whereas the dresses of these girls were trimmed with -real lace, and cost several hundreds of dollars each. It was a startling -experience to many of them to discover that a girl who had so few jewels -as Sylvia could be so haughty and self-possessed; which was, of course, -just what they had come for—to acquire that superiority to their wealth -which is the apex of culture in millionairedom. - -So Sylvia became an uncrowned queen, and all the lumber princesses and -copper duchesses and railroad countesses vied in entertaining her. They -treated her to box-parties, where, duly chaperoned, they listened to -possibly indecent musical comedies; and to midnight feasts where they -imperiled their complexions with peanut butter and almond paste and -chocolate creams and stuffed olives and anchovies and crackers and -mustard pickles and fruit cake and sardines and plum pudding and sliced -ham and salted almonds—and what other delicacies might come along in -anybody’s boxes from home. To aid in the digestion of these “goodies” -Sylvia was taken out twice daily, and marched in a little private parade -up Fifth Avenue, wearing a hat so large that all her attention was -required to keep it on in windy weather, and so heavy that it made her -head ache if the air were still; a collar so high that she could not -bend her head to balance the hat; high-heeled shoes upon which she -toddled with her feet crowded down upon the toes; and a corset laced so -tight that her lower ribs were bent out of shape and her liver -endangered. About the highest testimony that I can give to the -altogether superhuman wonderfulness of Sylvia is that she stayed for two -years at Miss Abercrombie’s, and came home a picture of radiant health, -eager, joyous—and lovely as the pearly tints of dawn. - -She came home to prepare for her _début_; and what an outfit she -brought! You may picture her unfolding the treasures in her big bedroom, -which had been freshly done over in pink silk; her mother and aunts and -cousins bending over the trays, and the negro servants hovering in the -doorway, breathless with excitement, while the “yard-man” came panting -up the stairs with new trunks. Such an array of hats and gowns and -_lingerie_, gloves and fans, ribbons and laces, silk hose and satin -slippers, beads and buckles! The “yard-man,” a negro freshly promoted -from the corn-fields, went down into the kitchen with shining eyes, -exclaiming, “I allus said dis house was heaven, and now I knows it, -’cause I seen dem ‘golden slippers’!” - -It was not a time for a girl to do much philosophizing; but Sylvia knew -that these “creations” of Paris dressmakers had cost frightful sums of -money, and she wondered vaguely why the family had insisted upon them. -She had heard rumors of a poor crop last year, and of worries about some -notes. Glad as the Major was to see her, she thought that he looked -careworn and tired. - -“Papa,” she said, “I’ve been spending an awful lot of money.” - -“Yes, honey,” he answered. - -“I hope you don’t think I have been extravagant, Papa.” - -“No, no, honey.” - -“I tried to economize, but you’ve no idea how things cost in New York, -and how those girls spend money. My clothes—Mamma and Aunt Nannie -_would_ have me buy them——” - -“It’s all right, my child—you have only one springtime, you know.” - -Sylvia paused a moment. “I feel as if I ought to marry a very rich man, -after all the money you’ve spent upon me.” - -Whereat the Major looked grave. “Sylvia,” he said, “I don’t want any -daughter of mine to feel that she has to marry. I shall always be able -to support my children, I hope.” - -This was noble, and Sylvia was grateful for it; but with that serene, -observing mind of hers she could not help noting that if her father by -any chance called her attention to some man of her acquaintance, it was -invariably a “marriageable” man; and always there was added some detail -as to the man’s possessions. “Billy Harding’s a fellow with a future -before him,” he would remark. “He’s one of the cleverest business men I -know.” - -Sylvia was also impressed with a comical phrase of her mother’s, which -seemed to indicate that that good lady classified poverty with smallpox -and diphtheria. The Major had suggested inviting to supper a young -medical student who was honest but penniless; and “Miss Margaret” -replied, “I really cannot see what we have to gain by exposing our -daughters to an undesirable marriage.” Sylvia concluded that her family -pinned its faith to the maxim of Tennyson’s “Northern Farmer”— - -“Doän’t thou marry for munny, but goä wheer munny is!” - - - § 7 - -You must have a glimpse of Castleman Hall as it was at the time of the -_début_. The old house stands upon a hill, terraced on one side, and -overlooking the river from a high bluff on the other. It is of red -brick, originally square, with a two-storied portico and hanging balcony -in front; later on there had been added two wings of white painted wood, -for the library and conservatory—now nearly covered with red roses and -Virginia creepers. On the afternoon of the great day there was a -reception to all the married friends of the family. They came in -conveyances of every kind, from family coaches to modern high-power -limousines; they came in costumes varying from the latest Paris modes to -the antebellum splendor of old Mrs. Tagliaferro, who hobbled cautiously -over the polished hardwood floors, with the help of her gold-headed cane -on one side, and her husband, the General, on the other. Once arrived, -she laid her hands upon Sylvia’s, and told her how pretty she was, and -how she must contribute a new stone to the archway through which the -Castlemans had marched to fame for so many generations. There had been -many famous Castleman beauties, quavered the old gentleman, in his turn, -but none more beautiful than the present one—save only, perhaps, her -mother. (This last as “Miss Margaret” appeared at his elbow, clad in -ample folds of gray satin and tulle.) So one by one ladies and gentlemen -came up and delivered gallant speeches and grave exhortations, until -Sylvia was overwhelmed with the sense of responsibility involved in -being a daughter of the Castlemans. - -And then came the evening, with the _début_ dance for the young people. -Ten years later I saw Sylvia in the gown she wore: white chiffon over -white messaline, with roses and a string of pearls. Wonderful she must -have been that night, at the age of eighteen, the climax of her beauty; -eager, glowing, a-quiver with excitement. I picture her standing before -the mirror, childishly ravished by her own loveliness, her mother and -aunts, scarcely less excited, putting the final touches to her toilette. -I picture her girl friends in the dressing-room and the hall, gossiping, -chattering, laughing; the buzz of excitement, then the hush when she -appeared, the cries of congratulation and applause. I picture the -downstairs rooms, decorated with lilies, magnolias and white ribbons, -the furniture covered with white brocade, the chandeliers turned into -great bells of lilies, the soft light from white-shaded candles flooding -everything. I picture the swains, waiting eagerly at the foot of the -staircase, each with a bouquet for his chosen one in his hand. I can -hear the strains of the violins floating up the staircase, and see the -shimmering form of Sylvia floating down, crowned with her dazzling glory -of golden hair. There was no one in Castleman County who failed to -realize that a belle was born that night! - - - § 8 - -It was just a week after these festivities that there occurred the death -of Sylvia’s great-aunt. Nothing could have been more characteristic than -the method of her departure. She left home and betook herself to an -aristocratic boarding-house, kept by a “decayed gentlewoman” in New -Orleans; she might be a long time a-dying, she said, and did not want -anybody making a fuss over her. Also she did not care to have her nieces -and nephews calling in to drop hints as to the disposition of her -rosewood bedroom set, her miniature piano and her Queen Anne baby’s -crib. She left a will in which she bequeathed her property to her -grand-niece, Sylvia Castleman, to be held in trust for her until she was -forty years of age. “Some man will take care of her while she is -beautiful,” she wrote, “but later on she may find use for my pittance.” -And finally the old lady put in a clause to the effect that the bequest -was conditional upon her grand-niece’s obeying her injunction to wear no -mourning for her. “It is impossible to make a woman with brown eyes look -presentable in black,” she wrote. And this, you understand, in a -document which had to be filed for probate! Most fortunate it was that -all the editors of newspapers in the South are gentlemen, who can be -relied upon not to print the news. - -Sylvia obeyed the instructions of this extraordinary document, and felt -it a solemn duty to go to entertainments, even with tears in her eyes. -So now began a bewildering succession of dinners, dances and receptions, -balls and suppers, house parties, hunting parties, auto parties, theatre -parties. It speaks marvels for her constitution that she was able to -stand the strain. When the last light had been extinguished she would -drag herself upstairs to bed, a limp train hung over her limp arm, her -feet aching in the tiny slippers and her back aching in the cruel stays. -The Governor saw fit to appoint her as his “sponsor” at the state -militia encampment; and so for ten days she would rise every morning at -daybreak, ride out with an “escort” to witness guard-mount, and remain -in the midst of a rush of gaieties until three or four o’clock the next -morning, when the nightly dance came to an end. - -Sylvia always refused to give photographs of herself to men. It was part -of her feeling about them that she could not endure the thought of her -image being in their rooms. But her enterprising Aunt Nannie, the -Bishop’s wife, presented one to the editor of a metropolitan magazine, -where it appeared under the heading of “A Reigning Beauty of the New -South.” It was taken up and reproduced in Southern papers, and after -that Sylvia found that her fame had preceded her—everywhere she went new -worshippers joined her train, and came to her hometown to lay siege to -her. - -You may perhaps know something about these Southern men. I had never -dreamed of such, and I would listen spellbound for hours to Sylvia’s -tales of them. Men who, as Lady Dee had phrased it, had nothing to do -but make love to their women! There were times when the realization of -this brought me a shudder. I would see, in a sudden vision, the torment -of a race of creatures who were doomed to spend their whole existence in -the chase of their females; and the females devoting their energies to -stinging them to fresh frenzies! - -The men liked it; they liked nothing else in the world so much. “You may -make me as unhappy as you please,” they would tell Sylvia—“if only you -will let me love you!” And Sylvia, in the course of time, became -reconciled to letting them love her. She learned to play the game—to -play it with constantly increasing excitement, with a love of mischief -and a thirst for triumph. - -She would show her latest victim twenty moods in one evening, alluring -him, repelling him, stimulating him, scorning him, pitying him, -bewildering him. When they met again, she would be completely absorbed -in the conversation of another man. He would be reduced at last to -begging for a chance to talk seriously with her; and she, pretending to -be touched, might let him call, and show him her loveliest and most -sympathetic self. So, before he realized it, he would be caught fast. If -he happened to be especially conspicuous, or especially rich, or -especially otherwise worth while, she might take the trouble to goad him -to desperation. Then he would be ready to give proofs of his devotion—to -go through West Point, or to be made a judge, if only she would promise -to marry him. Each of these tasks she set to an unfortunate wretch, who -went off and performed it—and came back and found her married! - - - § 9 - -Such were the customs of young ladies in Sylvia’s world; but I must not -fail to mention that she had sometimes the courage to set her face -against this “world.” For instance, she had a prejudice against -drunkenness. She stood fast by the bold precedent that she would never -permit an intoxicated person to dance with her; and terrible -humiliations she put upon two or three who outraged her dignity. They -hid in their rooms in an agony of remorse, and sent deputations of their -friends to plead for pardon, and went away from home and stayed for -months, until Sylvia consented to take them into her favor again. - -She took her place upon the icy heights of her maidenhood, and was not -to be drawn therefrom. There were only two men in the world, outside of -fathers and uncles and cousins, who could boast that they had ever -kissed her. About both of these I shall tell you in the course of time. -She was famous among other men for her reserve—they would make wagers -and lay siege to her for months, but no one ever dared to claim that he -had secured his kiss. - -With boyish frankness they would tell her of these things; they told her -all they thought about her. I have never heard of men who dealt so -frankly in personalities, who would discuss a woman and her various -“points” so openly to her face. “Miss Sylvia, you look like all your -roses to-night.”—“Miss Sylvia, I swear you’ve got the loveliest eyes in -the world!”—“You’ll be fading soon now; you’d better marry while you’ve -got a chance!”—“I came to see if you were as pretty as they say, Miss -Castleman!” - -She would laugh merrily. “Are you disappointed? Don’t you find me -ado’able?” - -So far I have made no attempt to give you an idea of Sylvia’s way of -speaking English. It was a drawl so charming that Miss Abercrombie had -given instructions not to mar it by rash corrections. I can only mention -a few of her words—which is as if I gave you single hairs out of her -golden glory. She always spoke of “cannles.” She could, of course, make -nothing of the letter r, and said “funnichuh” and “que-ah” and “befo-ah -mawnin’.” There had been an English heiress at Miss Abercrombie’s who -had won the whole school over to “gel,” but when Sylvia arrived, she -swept the floor with “go-il.” The most irresistible word of all I -thought was “bug;” there is no way to indicate this by spelling—you must -simply take three times as long to say it, lingering over the vowel -sound, caressing it as if you thought that “bu-u-u-gs” were the most -“ado’able” things in all the “wo’il.” - -Sylvia learned to apply with deadly effect the maxim of Lady Dee—that a -woman’s sharpest weapon is her _naïveté_. “Beware of me!” she would warn -her helpless victims. “Haven’t you heard that I’m a coquette? No, I’m -not joking. It’s something I’m bitterly ashamed of, but I can’t help it; -I’m a cold-hearted, selfish creature, a deliberate breaker of hearts.” -And then, of course, the victim would thrill with excitement and -exclaim, “See what you can do to me, Miss Sylvia! I’ll send you armfuls -of roses if you can break my heart!” You may judge how these -competitions ended from a chance remark which Sylvia made to me—“When I -look back upon my life, it seems to me that I waded in a river of -roses.” - -The only protection which nature has vouchsafed against these terrors is -the fact that sooner or later such cold and cruel huntresses themselves -get snared. In the simile of “Sterne’s starling,” they are lured up to a -certain cage, and after much hopping about and hesitating, much -advancing and retreating, much chattering and chirping, they adorn -themselves in satin robes and lace veils and lilies-of-the-valley, and -to the sound of sweet strains from “Lohengrin” they enter the golden -cage. And then, snap! the door is shut and locked fast, and the -proprietor of the cage mounts guard over it—in Sylvia’s part of the -world with a shotgun in his hands. - - - § 10 - -So I come to the time when this haughty lady was humbled; that is to -say, the time of her meeting with Frank Shirley. Because it was through -Harriet Atkinson that she came to know him, I must first tell you in a -few words about that active and pushing young lady. - -Harriet Atkinson was the one weak spot in the fortifications of -respectability which Sylvia’s parents had built up about her. Harriet’s -ancestors were Yankees, of the very most odious “carpet-bag” type. Her -grandfather had been a pawnbroker in Boston, so fierce rumor declared; -and her father was a street-railroad president, who purchased “red-neck” -legislators for use in his business. Harriet herself was a brunette -beauty, so highly colored that she looked artificial, no matter how hard -she tried to look natural. - -But in spite of these appalling facts, Harriet Atkinson was the most -intelligent girl whom Sylvia had met during her three years at the -“college.” She had a wit that was irresistible, and also she understood -people. You might spend weeks in her company and never be bored; whereas -there were persons who could prove possession of the “very best blood in -the South,” but who were capable of boring you most frightfully when -they got you alone for half an hour. - -Sylvia was never allowed to go to Harriet’s home, nor was Harriet ever -asked to Castleman Hall. But Sylvia refused to give up her friend, and -for a year she intrigued incessantly to force Harriet upon her -hostesses, and to persuade her own suitors to call at the Atkinson home. -In the end she married her off to the scion of a great family—with -consequences which are to be told at a later stage of my story. The -point for the present is that things happened exactly as Sylvia’s aunts -had predicted; through her intimacy with the undesirable Harriet -Atkinson she was “exposed” to the acquaintance of several undesirable -men, among them Frank Shirley. - -Sylvia had known about the Shirleys from earliest childhood. She had -heard the topic talked about at the family dinner-table, and had seen -tears in her father’s eyes when the final tragedy came. For the Shirleys -were among the “best people,” and this was not the kind of thing which -was allowed to happen to such. - -About twelve years previously the legislature had appropriated money for -the building of a veterans’ home, and the funds had been entrusted to a -committee, of which Robert Shirley was treasurer. The project had lapsed -for a couple of years, and when the money was called for, Robert Shirley -was unable to produce it. Rumors leaked out, and there came a demand in -the legislature for an accounting. - -The Major was one of a committee of friends who were asked by the -Governor to make a private investigation. They found that Shirley had -deposited the money to his private bank account, after the -unbusinesslike methods of a Southern gentleman. Checks had been drawn -upon it; but there was evidence at the bank tending to show that the -checks might not have been signed by Shirley himself. He had a younger -brother, a spendthrift and gambler, whom he had indulged and protected -all his life. Such were the hints which Sylvia had heard at home—when -suddenly Robert Shirley proceeded to the state Capitol and requested the -Governor to stop the investigation, declaring that he alone was to -blame. - -It was a terrible thing. Shirley was besought to fly, he was told by the -Governor’s own authority that he might live anywhere outside the state, -and the search for him would be nominal. But he stood fast; the money -was gone, and some one must pay the penalty. So the world saw the -unprecedented spectacle of a man of “good family” standing trial, and -receiving a sentence of five years in the penitentiary. - -He left a broken-hearted wife and four children. Sylvia remembered the -horror with which her mother and her aunts had contemplated the fate of -these latter. Two girls, soon to become young ladies, and cut off from -all hope of a future! “But, Mamma,” Sylvia cried, “it isn’t _their_ -fault!” She recollected the very tone of her mother’s voice, the dying -away to a horrified whisper at the end: “My child, their father _wore -stripes_!” - -The Shirleys made no attempt to hold up their heads against the storm, -but withdrew into strict seclusion on their plantation. Now, ten years -later, Robert Shirley having died in prison, his widow was a pitiful -shadow, his daughters were hopeless old maids, and his two sons were -farmers, staying at home and acting as their own managers. - -Of these, Frank Shirley was the elder. I am handicapped in setting out -to tell you about him by the fact that he sits in the next room, and -will have to read what I write; he is not a man to stand for any -nonsense about himself—nor yet one whose ridicule an amateur author -would wish to face. I will content myself with stating simple facts, -which he cannot deny; for example, that he is a man a trifle below the -average height, but sturdily built and exceedingly powerful. He had in -those days dark hair and eyes, and he would not claim to have been -especially bad-looking. He is the most reserved man I have ever known, -but his feelings are intense when they are roused, and on these rare -occasions he is capable of being eloquent. He is, in general, a very -solid and dependable kind of man; he does not ask anything of anybody, -but he is willing to give, cautiously, after he has made sure that his -motive will be understood. As I read that over, it seems to me a -judicious and entirely unsentimental statement about him, which he will -have to pass. - -He was, he tells me, a lively boy; but after the age of eleven he always -had, as the most prominent fact in his consciousness, the knowledge that -men set him apart as something different from themselves. And this, of -course, made intercourse with them difficult; if they were indifferent -to him, that was insult, and if they were cordial, then they were taking -pity upon him. He always knew that the people who met him, however -politely they greeted him, were repeating behind his back the inevitable -whisper, “His father wore stripes!” So naturally he found it pleasanter -not to meet people. - -Then, too, there were his mother and sisters; it was hard not to be -bitter about them. He knew that the girls were gentle and lovely; and it -rather made men seem cowardly, that it should be certain that no one in -their own social world would ever ask them in marriage. There is so much -asking in marriage in the South—it is really difficult for a gentlewoman -to be passed over altogether. The Shirley girls could not discuss this, -even in the bosom of their family; but Frank came to understand, and to -brood over the thing in secret. - - - § 11 - -So you see Frank Shirley was a difficult man to get at—as much so as if -he had been an emperor or an anchorite. I have been interested in the -psychology of sex, and I wondered how much this aloofness had to do with -what happened to Sylvia. There were so many men, and they were all so -much alike, and they were all so easy! But here was a man who was -different; a man whom one could not get at without humiliating efforts; -a man of mystery, about whom one could imagine things! I asked Sylvia, -who thought there might be something in this; but much more in a deeper -fact, which is known to poets and tellers of love-tales, but has not -been sufficiently heeded by scientists—that intuitive, commanding and -sometimes terrifying revelation of sexual affinity, which we smile at -and discredit under the name of “love at first sight.” The first time -Sylvia met Frank she did not know who he was; she saw at first only his -back; and yet she began at once to experience a thrill which she had -never known in her life before. Absurd as they may sound, I will repeat -her words: “There was something about the back of his neck that took my -breath!” - -It had been some years since she had heard the Shirleys mentioned. They -had quietly declined all invitations, and this made it easy for -everybody to do with decency what everybody wanted to do—to cease -sending invitations. The Shirley plantation was remotely located, some -twenty miles away from Castleman Hall; and so little by little the -family had been forgotten. - -But there was a certain Mrs. Venable, a young widow who owned a -hunting-lodge near the Shirley place; and as fate would have it, she was -one of the people whom Sylvia had persuaded to take up Harriet Atkinson. -One day, as the latter was driving to the lodge in her automobile, she -was “mired” in the midst of a terrific thunderstorm, when along came a -gentleman on horseback, who politely insisted upon her taking his -waterproof, and then mounting behind him and riding to his home up on -the hill; by which romantic method the delighted Harriet found herself -conveyed to an old and evidently aristocratic homestead, and welcomed by -some altogether lovely people. - -Being younger than Sylvia, and not so much on the “inside” as to local -history, Harriet had been obliged to get the story from Mrs. Venable. It -had heightened her interest in the Shirleys—for Harriet’s great merit -was that she was human and spontaneous where she should have been -respectable. She went to call again on the family, and when she got home -she made haste to tell Sylvia about it. “Sunny,” she said—that was her -way of taking liberties with Sylvia’s complexion—“you ought to meet that -man Frank Shirley.” She went on to tell how good-looking he was, how -silent and mysterious, and what a fine voice he had. “And the sweetest, -lazy smile!” she declared. “I’m sure he could be a lady-killer if he did -not take life so seriously!” So, you see, Sylvia had something to start -her imagination going, and a reason for accepting Mrs. Venable’s -invitation to a hunting party. - -One sunshiny morning in the late fall she was taking part in a -deer-hunt, carrying a rifle and looking as picturesque as possible. They -put her on a “stand” with Charlie Peyton, who ought to have been at -college, but was hanging round making a nuisance of himself by sighing -and gazing. After waiting a half hour or so, off in the woods they heard -a dog yelping. Charlie went off to investigate, thinking it might be a -bear; and so Sylvia was left to her fate. - -She heard a sound in the bushes at one side, and thought it was a deer. -The creature moved past her, hidden by a dense thicket, and passed a -little way ahead, with a heavy trampling sound. She had half raised her -gun, when suddenly the bushes parted, and with a leap over a fallen log -there came into view—not a deer, but a horse with a rider upon his back. - -The girl lowered her gun. The dog yelped again and the man reined up his -horse and stood listening. The horse was restive; as he drew rein upon -it, it turned slightly, exhibiting the rider’s face. To the outward eye -he was a not unusual figure, wearing the khaki shirt and knickerbockers -affected by the younger generation of planters when on duty. The shirt -was open, with a red bandana handkerchief tucked round at the throat. - -But Sylvia was not looking with the outward eye. Sylvia had been reading -romances, and had a vague idea of a lover who would some day appear, -being distinguished from the ordinary admirers of salons and ball-rooms -by something knightly in his aspect. And this man seemed to have that -something. His face was a face of power, yet not harsh, rather with a -touch of melancholy. - -As a rule Sylvia was immediately observant of her own emotional states, -especially where men were concerned; but this once she was too much -interested to think what she was thinking. She was noting the man’s -deeply-shadowed eyes and shiny black hair, his statue-like figure and -his mastery of the horse. She wondered if he would look in her -direction, and she waited, fascinated, for the moment when his glance -would rest upon her. - -The moment came. He started slightly, and then quickly his hand went up -to his hat. “I beg your pardon,” he said, politely. - -Sylvia noted his deep, full-toned voice; and with a sudden thrill she -recollected Harriet’s adventure. “Can this be Frank Shirley?” she -thought. She caught herself together and smiled. “It is for me to beg -pardon,” she said. “I came near shooting at you.” - -“I deserved it,” he answered, smiling in turn. “I was trespassing on my -neighbor’s land.” - -Sylvia had by now been “out” a full year, and it must be admitted that -she was a sophisticated young lady. When she met a man, her thought was: -“Could I love him? And how would it be if I married him?” Her -imagination would leap ahead through a long series of scenes: the man’s -home, his relatives and her own, his occupations, his amusements, his -ideas. She would see herself traveling with him, driving with him, -presiding at dinner-parties for him—perhaps helping to get him sober the -next morning. As a drowning man is said to live over his whole past in a -few seconds, so Sylvia might live her whole future during a figure at a -“german.” - -But with this man it was different. She could not imagine him in any -position in her world. He was an elemental creature, belonging in some -wild place, where there was danger to be faced and deeds to be done. -Sylvia had read “Paul and Virginia,” and “Robinson Crusoe,” and “Typee,” -and in her mind was a vague idea of a primitive, close-to-nature life, -which one yearned for when one was tightly laced, or was sent into the -parlor to entertain an old friend of the family. She imagined this -strange knight springing forward and lifting her upon his saddle-bow, to -bear her away to such a world. She could feel his powerful arms about -her, his whispered words in her ear; she could hear the clatter of his -horse’s hoofs—away, away! - -She had to make another effort, and remember who she was. “You are not -lost, I suppose?” he was asking. - -“Oh, no,” she said. “I am on a ‘stand.’” - -“Of course,” he replied; again there was a pause, and again Sylvia’s -brain went whirling. It was absurd how the beating of her heart kept -translating itself into the clatter of horse’s hoofs. - -The man turned for a moment to listen to the dog; and she stole another -look at him. His eyes came back and caught her glance. She absolutely -had to say something—instantly, to save the situation. “I—I am not -alone,” she stammered. Oh, how dreadful—that she, Sylvia Castleman, -should stumble over words! - -“My escort has gone to look for the dog,” she added. “He will be back in -a moment.” - -“Oh,” he said; and Sylvia noted a sudden change in his expression—a set, -repressed look. She saw the blood mounting slowly, until it colored his -cheeks to a crimson. - -“I beg your pardon,” he said, coldly. “Good-morning.” He turned his -horse and started on his way. - -He had taken her words as a dismissal. But that was the least part of -the mistake. Sylvia read his mind in a flash—he was Frank Shirley, and -he thought that she had recognized him, and was thinking of his father -who had worn stripes! Yes, surely it must be that—for what right had he -to be hurt otherwise—that she did not care to stand conversing with a -strange man in a forest? - -The thought sent her into a panic. She thought of nothing but the -cruelty of that idea. “No, no!” she cried, the tears almost starting -into her eyes. “I did not mean to send you away at all!” - -He turned, startled by her vehemence. For a moment or two they stood -staring at each other. The girl had this one swift thought: “How -dreadful it must be to have such a thing in your mind, to have to be -waiting for insults from people—or at best, for pity!” - -Then, in his quiet voice, he said, “I really think I had better go.” -Again he turned his horse, and without another glance rode away, leaving -Sylvia staring at his vanishing figure, with her hands tightly clutching -her gun. - - - § 12 - -After that Sylvia felt that she had in common decency to meet Frank -Shirley. She asked nothing more about her motives—she simply _had_ to -meet him, to remove one thought from his mind. But for two days she was -at her wit’s end, and went round bored to death by everything and -everybody. She had a sudden whim to be let alone; and how difficult it -is to be let alone at a house party! There was the everlasting Charlie -Peyton, looking at her out of sickly blue eyes, and forever trying to -get hold of her hand; there was Billy Aldrich, with his sybaritic silk -socks, his shiny finger nails and talcum-powdered face; there was -Malcolm McCallum, a dandy from Louisville, with his endless stream of -impeccable suits and his caravan of trunks; there was Harvey Richards, a -“steel-man” from Birmingham, who had thrown his business to the winds -and settled down to the task of boring Sylvia. He was big and burly, and -had become the special favorite of her family; he dandled the baby -brother and made fudge with the sisters—but Sylvia declared viciously -that his idea of love-making was to poke at her with his finger. - -She took to getting up very early in the morning, so that she could go -riding alone. As there was but one road, it was not her fault if she -passed near the Shirley place. And if by any remote chance he were to be -out riding too—— - -It was the third morning that she met him. He came round a turn, and it -all happened in a flash, before she had time to think. He gave her the -stiffest greeting that was consistent with good breeding; and then he -was past. Of course she could not look back. It was ten chances to one -that he would not do the same, but still he might, and that would be -dreadful. - -She went on. She was angry with herself for her stupidity. That she -should have met him thus, and had no better wit than to let him get by! -Theoretically, of course, ladies cannot stop gentlemen to whom they have -not been introduced; but there are always things that can happen, in -cases of emergency like this. She thought of plans, and then she fell -into a rage with herself for thus pursuing a man. - -The next morning when she went riding, she forced herself to turn the -horse’s head in the other direction from the Shirley place. But her -thoughts would come back to Frank, and presently she was making excuses -for herself. This man was not as other men; if he avoided her, it was -not because he did not want to know her, but because of his misfortune. -It was wicked that a man should be tied up in such a net of -misapprehension; to get him out of it would be, not unmaidenly, but -heroic. When she had met him yesterday morning, she ought to have -stopped her horse, and made him stay and talk with her. She was to leave -in two days more! - -She turned her horse and went back; and when she was near the Shirley -house—here he came! - -She saw him far down the road, and so had plenty of time to get her wits -together. Had he, by any chance, come out in the hope of meeting her? Or -would he be annoyed by her getting in his way? Suppose he were to snub -her—how could she ever get over it? - -She took a diamond ring from her finger, and reached back and shoved it -under the saddle-cloth. It was a “marquise” ring, with sharp points, and -when she threw her weight upon it, the horse gave a jump. She repeated -the action, and it began to prance. “Now then!” whispered Sylvia to -herself. - - - § 13 - -He came near; and she reined up her chafing steed. “I beg pardon,” she -said. - -He raised his hat, and holding it, looked at her inquiringly. - -“I think my horse must have a stone in his foot.” - -“Oh!” he said, and was off in a moment, throwing the reins of his mount -over its head and handing them to her. - -“Which foot?” he asked. - -“I don’t know.” - -He bent down and examined one hoof, then another, and so on for all -four, without a word. Then, straightening up, he said, “I don’t see -anything.” - -He looked very serious and concerned. How “easy” he would be! “There -really must be something,” she said. “He’s all in a lather.” - -“There might be something deep in,” he answered, making his -investigation all over again. “But I don’t see any blood.” (What a fine -back he has! thought Sylvia.) - -He stood up. “Let me see his mouth,” he said. “Are you sure you’ve not -held him too tight?” - -“I am used to horses,” was her reply. - -“Some of them have peculiarities,” he remarked. “Possibly the saddle has -rubbed——” - -“No, no,” answered Sylvia, in haste, as he made a move to lift the -cloth. - -It was always hard for her to keep from laughing for long; and there was -something so comical in his gravity. Then too, something desperate must -be done, for presently he would mount and ride away. “There’s surely no -stone in his foot,” he declared. - -Whereat Sylvia broke into one of her radiant smiles. “Perhaps,” she -said, “it’s in _your_ horse’s foot!” - -He looked puzzled. - -“Don’t you see?” she laughed. “Something _must_ be wrong—or you couldn’t -be here talking to me!” - -But he still looked bewildered. “Dear me, what a man!” thought she. - -A color was beginning to mount in his cheeks. Perhaps he was going to be -offended! Clearly, with such a man one’s cue was frankness. So her tone -changed suddenly. “Are you Mr. Shirley?” she asked. - -“Yes,” he said. - -“And do you know who I am?” - -“Yes, Miss Castleman.” - -“Our families are old friends, you know.” - -“Yes, I know it.” - -“And then, tell me—” She paused. “Honestly!” - -“Why—yes.” - -“I’ve been honest and told you—I’m not really worried about my horse. -Now you be honest and say why you rode out this morning.” - -He waited before replying, studying her face—not boldly, but gravely. “I -think, Miss Castleman, that it would be better if I did not.” - -Then it was Sylvia’s turn to study. Was it a rebuke? Had he not come out -on her account at all? Or was it still the ghost of his father’s -prison-suit? - -He did not help her with another word. (I can hear Frank’s laugh as he -told me about this episode. “We silent fellows have such an advantage! -We just wait and let people imagine things!”) - -Sylvia’s voice fell low. “Mr. Shirley, you have me at a great -disadvantage.” And as she said this she gazed at him with the wonderful -red-brown eyes, wide open, childlike. So far there had never been a man -who could resist the spell of those eyes. Would this man be able? The -busy little brain behind them was watching every sign. - -“I don’t understand,” he replied; and she took up the words: - -“It is _I_ who don’t understand. And I dare not ask you to explain!” - -She was terrified at this temerity; and yet she must press on—there was -no other way. She saw gates opening before her—gates into wonderland! - -She leaned forward with a little gesture of abandonment. “Listen, Frank -Shirley!” she said. (What a masterstroke was that!) “I have known about -you since I was a little girl. And I understand the way things are now, -because I am a friend of Miss Atkinson’s. She asked you to come over and -meet me, and you didn’t. Now if the reason was that you have no interest -in me—why then I’m annoying you, and I’m behaving outrageously, and I’m -preparing humiliation for myself. But if the reason is that you think I -wouldn’t meet you fairly—that I wouldn’t judge you as I would any other -man—why, don’t you see, that would be cruel, that would be wicked! If -you were afraid that I wanted to—to patronize you—to do good to you——” - -She stopped. Surely she had said enough! - -There was a long silence, while he gazed at her—reading her very soul, -she feared. “Suppose, Miss Castleman,” he said, at last, “that I was -afraid that you wanted to do _harm_ to me?” - -That was getting near to what she wanted! “Are you afraid?” she asked. - -“Possibly I am,” he replied. “It is easy for those who have never -suffered to preach to those who have never done anything else.” - -Sylvia did not know quite how to meet that. It was so much more serious -than she had been looking for, when she had slipped that ring under the -saddle-cloth! “Oh,” she cried, “what shall I say to you?” - -“I will tell you exactly,” he said, “and then neither of us will be -taking advantage of the other. You are offering me your friendship, are -you not?” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, then, can you say to me that if I were to accept it, the shame of -my family would never make any difference to you?” - -She cried instantly, “That is what I’ve been trying to tell you! Of -course it would not.” - -“You can say that?” he persisted. “It would make no difference -whatever?” - -She was about to answer again; but he stopped her. “Wait and think. You -must know just what I mean. It is not a thing about which I could endure -a mistake. Think of your family—your friends—your whole world! And think -of everything that might arise between us!” - -She stared at him, startled. He was asking if he might make love to her! -She had not meant it to go so far as that—but there it was. Her own -recklessness, and his forthrightness, had brought it to that point. And -what could she say? - -“Think!” he was saying. “And don’t try to evade—don’t lie to me. Answer -me the truth!” - -His eyes held hers. She waited—thinking, as he forced her to. At last, -when she spoke, it was with a slightly trembling voice. “It would make -no difference,” she said. - -And then she tried to continue looking at him, but she could not. She -was blushing; it was a dreadful habit she had! - -It was an absolutely intolerable situation, and she must do -something—instantly. _He_ never would—the dreadful sphinx of a man! She -looked up. “Now we’re friends?” she asked. - -“Yes,” he replied. - -“Then,” she said, laughing, “reach under the saddle-cloth and get out my -ring. I might lose it.” - -Bewildered, he got the ring, and understanding at last, laughed with -her. “And now,” cried Sylvia, in her friendliest tone of voice, “get on -your horse again and behave like a man of enterprise! Come!” She touched -her mount and went galloping; she heard him pounding away behind her, -and she began to sing: - - “Waken, lords and ladies gay, - On the mountain dawns the day, - All the jolly chase is near - With hawk and hound and hunting-spear!” - - - § 14 - -They were good comrades now; all their problems solved, and a -stirrup-cup of happiness to quaff between them. Sylvia was amazed at -herself—the surge of exultation which arose in her and swept her along -upon its crest. Never in all her life had she been as full of verve and -animation as she was throughout that ride. She laughed, she sang, she -poured out a stream of fantasy; and all the while the clatter of the -horses hoofs—romance blending itself with reality! - -But also she was studying the man. There was something in her which must -always be studying people. Thank Heaven, he was a man who could forget -himself, and laugh and be good fun! It was something to have got him out -of his melancholy, and set him to galloping here—admiring her, marveling -at her! She felt his admiration like a storm of wind pushing her along. - -At last she drew up, breathless. “Dear me,” she exclaimed, “what a lot -of chattering I have done! And we must be—how many miles from home?” - -“Ten, I should say,” he replied. - -“And I’ve had no breakfast!” she said. “We really _must_ go back.” - -He made no objection, and they turned. “You must come and see me at the -lodge,” she said. “I am going home to-morrow afternoon.” - -But he shook his head. “Don’t ask me,” he replied. “You know I don’t -belong among smart people.” - -She started to protest; but then she thought of Billy Aldrich with his -tight collars and fancy stick-pins—of Malcolm McCallum with his Japanese -valet; no, there was no use pretending about such things. And besides, -she did not want these people to know her secret. - -“But where can we meet?” she said. (How perfectly appalling was -that—without any hint from him!) - -“Can’t we ride again to-morrow morning?” he asked, quite simply. - -And so they settled it. He left her at the place where the road turned -in to the lodge. He tried to thank her for what she had taken the -trouble to do; but she was frightened now—she dared not stay and listen -any longer to his voice. She waved him a bright farewell, and rode off, -feeling suddenly faint and bewildered. - -She had half a mile or so to ride alone, and in that ride it was exactly -as if he were by her side. She still heard his horse’s hoofs, and felt -how he would look if she were to turn. Once she thought of Lady Dee, and -then she could not help laughing. What _would_ Lady Dee have said! How -many of the rules of coquetry had she not broken in the space of two -brief hours! But after a little more thought, she consoled herself. -Possibly there were moves in this game which even Lady Dee had never -heard of! “I don’t think I managed it so badly,” she was saying to -herself, as she dismounted from her horse. - -And that was the view she took when she told Harriet about it. She had -not meant to tell Harriet at all, but the secret would out—she had to -have some one to talk to. “Oh, my dear,” she exclaimed, “he’s perfectly -wonderful!” - -“Who? What do you mean?” asked Harriet. - -“Frank Shirley.” - -“What? You’ve met him?” - -“Met him? I’ve been riding with him the whole morning, and I’ve almost -let him propose to me!” - -“Sylvia!” cried Harriet, aghast. - -The other stood looking before her, grown suddenly thoughtful. “Yes, I -did. And what’s more, I believe that to-morrow morning I’m _going_ to -let him propose to me.” - -“Sunny,” exclaimed her friend, “are you a woman, or one of Satan’s -imps?” - -For answer Sylvia took her seat at the piano and began to sing—a song by -which all her lovers set much store: - - “Who is Sylvia? What is she, - That all our swains commend her? - Holy, fair and wise is she— - The heavens such grace did lend her - That she might adored be!” - - - § 15 - -Sylvia did very little thinking that first day—she was too much -possessed by feelings. Besides this she had to go through all the -routine of a house party; to go to breakfast and make apologies for her -singular desire to ride alone; to go quail-shooting and remind Charlie -Peyton to fire off his gun now and then; to curl her hair and select a -gown for dinner—and all the while in a glow of happiness so intense as -to come close to the borderland of pain. - -It was not a definite emotion, but a vague, suffused ecstasy. She was -like one who goes about hearing exquisite music; angels singing in the -sky above her, little golden bells ringing in every part of her body. -And then always, penetrating the mist of her feelings, was the memory of -Frank Shirley. She could see his eyes, as they had looked up at her; she -could hear the tones of his voice—its low intensity as he had said, -“Think of everything that might happen between us!” She would find -herself blushing crimson at the dinner-table, and would have to chatter -to hide her confusion. - -When night came she went into a sleep that was a half swoon of -happiness; and awoke in the early dawn, first bewildered, then -horrified, because of what she had done—her boldness, her lack of -dignity and reserve. She had thrown herself at a man’s head! And of -course he would be disgusted and would flee from her. She drank her -coffee and dressed a full half hour too early; and meanwhile she was -planning how she would treat him that morning. But then, suppose he did -not come that morning? - -She rode out in the light of a sunrise she did not see, amid the song of -birds she did not hear. Suppose he did not come! When she saw him, far -up the road, she wanted to turn and flee. Her heart pounded, her cheeks -burned, there was a clashing as of cymbals in her ears. She reined up -her horse and sat motionless, telling herself that she must be calm. She -clenched her hands and bit a little hole in her tongue; and so, when he -arrived, he found a young woman of the world awaiting him. - -She saw at once that something was wrong with him. He too had been -having moods and agonies, and had come full of resolutions and -reservations! He greeted her politely, and had almost nothing to say as -they rode away together. Sylvia’s heart sank. He had come because he had -promised; but he was regretting his indiscretions. Very well, she would -show him that she, too, could be polite! Under the spur of her fierce -pride, she could be a light-hearted child, utterly unaware of the -existence of any sulking male. - -So they rode on. It was such a beautiful morning, the odor of the -pine-forests was so refreshing and the song of the birds so free, that -Sylvia was soon all that she had set out to pretend. She forgot her -cavalier for several minutes, laughing and humming. When she realized -him again, she had the boldness to tease him about himself— - - “Oh, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, - Alone, and palely loitering?” - -And when he had no poetry ready to reply, she grew tired of him -altogether, and touched her horse and cantered quickly on. Let him -follow her if he chose—what mattered it! Moreover, she rode well, and -men always noticed it; she was bare-headed, and no man ever saw the -golden glory of her hair in bright sunlight that his heart did not begin -to quiver within him! - -After a while he spurred his horse and rode at her side, and without -looking, she saw that he was watching her. She gave him just a little -smile, absent-minded and barely polite. Resolving to punish him still -more, she asked him the time. He gravely drew out his watch and replied -to her question. “I will ride as far as the spring,” she said. “Then I -must be going back.” - -But he did not make the expected protest. He was going to lose her, and -he did not care! Oh, what a man! - -As they drew near the spring, Sylvia began to be uneasy again. She did -not want him to lose her; she wanted him to care. She stopped to breathe -her horse, and to look at the moss-ringed pool of water, and at the -field of golden-rod beyond. “How lovely!” she said; and repeated, “How -lovely!” He never said a word—and when he might so easily have said, -“Let us stay a while!” - -She was growing desperate. Her horse had got its breath and had had some -water—what else? “I must have some of that golden-rod!” she exclaimed, -suddenly. What was the matter with him, staring into space in that -fashion? Had he no manners at all? “I must have some golden-rod,” she -repeated; and when he still made no move, she said, “Hold my horse, -please,” and started to dismount. - -He sprang off, and took the reins of her horse, and those of his own in -the same hand, giving his other hand to her. It was the first time he -had touched her, and it sent a shock through her that sent her flying in -a panic—out into the field of flowers, where she could hide her cheeks -and her trembling! - - - § 16 - -He made the horses fast to the fence, carefully and deliberately; and -meantime she was gathering golden-rod. She knew that she made a picture -in the midst of flowers. She was very much occupied as he came to her -side. - -A moment later she heard his voice: “Miss Castleman.” - -Panic seized her again, but she looked up, with her last flicker of -courage. “Well?” she asked. - -“There is something I want to tell you,” he began. “I can’t play this -game with you—I am no match for you at all.” - -“Why—what do you mean?” she managed to say. - -As usual, she knew just what he meant. “I am not a man who can play with -his emotions,” he said. “You must understand this at the very outset—the -thing is real to me, and I’ve got to know quickly whether or not it is -real to you.” - -There he was! Like a storm of wind that threatened to sweep away her -pretenses, the whole pitiful little structure of her coquetry. But she -could not let the structure go; it was her only shelter, and she strove -desperately to hold it in place. “Why should you assume that I play with -my emotions?” she demanded. - -“You play, not with your own, but with other peoples’ emotions,” he -replied. “I know; I’ve heard about you—long ago.” - -She drew herself up haughtily. “You do not approve of me, Mr. Shirley? -I’m very sorry.” - -“You must know—” he began. - -But she went on, in a rush of defensive recklessness: “You think I’m -hollow—a coquette—a trifler with hearts. Well, I am. It’s all I know.” -She flung her head up, looking at him defiantly. - -“No, Miss Castleman,” he said, “it’s _not_ all you know!” - -But her recklessness was driving her—that spirit of the gambler that was -in the blood of all her race. “It _is_ all I know.” She bent over and -began strenuously to pluck sprays of golden-rod. - -“To break men’s hearts?” he asked. - -She laughed scornfully. “I had a great-aunt, Lady Dee—perhaps you’ve -heard of her. She taught me—and I’ve found out through much experience -that she was right.” She gazed at him boldly, over the armful of -flowers. “‘Sylvia, never let yourself be sorry for men. Let them take -care of themselves. They have all the advantage in the game. They are -free to come and go, they pick us up and look us over and drop us when -they feel like it. So we have to learn to manage them. And, believe me, -my child, they like it—it’s what they’re made for!’” - -“And you believe such things as that?” - -She laughed, a superbly cynical laugh, and began to gather more flowers. -“I used to think they were cruel—when I was young. But now I know that -Aunt Lady was right. What else have men to do but to make love to us? -Isn’t it better for them than getting drunk, or gambling, or breaking -their necks hunting foxes? ‘It’s the thing that lifts them above the -brute,’ she used to say. ‘Naturally, the more of them you lift, the -better.’” - -“Did she teach you to deceive men deliberately?” - -“She told me that when she was ordering her wedding trousseau, she was -engaged to a dozen; a cousin of hers was engaged to another dozen, and -couldn’t make up her mind which to choose, so she sent notes to them all -to say that she’d marry the man who got to her first.” - -He smiled—his slow, quiet smile. Sylvia did not know how he was taking -these things; nor did his next remark enlighten her. “Did it not -surprise you to be taught that men were the centre of creation?” - -“No. They taught me that God was a man.” - -He laughed, then became grave. “Why do you need so many men? You can’t -marry but one.” - -“Not in the South. But when I am ready to marry that one, I want it to -be the one I want; and the only way to be sure is to have a great many -wanting _you_. When a man sees a girl so surrounded with suitors that he -can’t get near her, he knows it’s the one girl in the world for him. -Aunt Lady had a saying about it, full of wisdom.” And Sylvia looked very -wise herself. “‘Men are sheep!’” - -“I see,” he said, somewhat grimly. “I fear, Miss Castleman, I cannot -enter such a competition.” - -“Is it cowardice?” - -“Perhaps. It has been said that discretion is the better part of valor. -You see, to me love is not a game, but a reality. It could never be that -to you, I fear.” - -Poor Sylvia! She was trying desperately hard to remember and make use of -her training. But the rules she had learned were, so to speak, for -fresh-water sailing; no one had ever thought that her frail craft might -be blown out upon a stormy ocean like this. Picture her as a terrified -navigator, striving to steer with a broken rudder, and gazing up into a -mountain-wave that comes roaring down upon her! - -He was a man who meant what he said. She had tried her foolish arts upon -him and had only disgusted him. He was going away; and once he had left -her, she would be powerless to get hold of him again! - -Love could never be a reality to her, he had said. With sudden tears in -her voice she exclaimed, “It could! It could!” - -His whole aspect changed in a moment. A fire seemed to leap into his -eyes. “You mean that?” he asked. And that was enough for her. As he -moved towards her, she backed away a step or two. She thrust out the -great bunch of golden-rod, filling his arms with that, and retreated -farther into the yellow field. - -He stood for a moment, nonplussed, looking rather comical with his -unexpected load. Then he turned away without a word, and went to where -his horse was fastened, and began to tie the flowers to his saddle. - -She joined him before he had finished and mounted her own horse, saying -casually, “It is late. We must return.” He mounted and rode beside her -in silence. - -At last he remarked, “You are going away this afternoon?” - -“Yes,” she said. - -“Then where can I see you?” - -“You will have to come to my home.” - -There was a pause. “It will be a difficult experience,” he observed. -“You will have to help me through it.” - -She answered, promptly, “You must come as any other man would come. You -must learn to do that—you must simply not _know_ what other people are -thinking.” - -At which he smiled sadly. “There is nothing in that. When everybody in -the world is thinking one thing about you, you find there’s no use -pretending not to know what it is.” - -There he was again—simple and direct. He had a vision of the hostility -of her relatives, the horror of her friends; he went on to speak his -thoughts quite baldly. Was she prepared to face these difficulties? She -might have the courage, she might not; but at least she must be -forewarned, and not encounter them blindly. She said, “My own people -will be kind, I assure you.” And when he smiled dubiously, she added, -“Leave it to me. I promise you I’ll manage them.” - - - § 17 - -Sylvia, as you know, had been taught to discuss the affairs of her heart -in the language of military science. Continuing the custom, the fortress -of her coquetry had withstood an onslaught which had brought dismay to -the garrison, who had never before known what it was to be in real -danger. In the hope of restoring confidence to the troops there was now -undertaken a raid into the territory of perfectly innocent and -defenseless neighbors. - -The first victim was Charlie Peyton. He had implored one last -opportunity to prove his devotion—being unable to imagine how his -devotion could be of no interest to Sylvia. So the guests of the house -party were treated to the amazing spectacle of this dignified and -self-conscious youth standing for two hours in the crotch of an -apple-tree. Meanwhile Sylvia went off for a walk with Malcolm McCallum; -and when at last Charlie’s time was up, and he set out in search of her, -he found his rival occupied in crawling on his knees the length of a -splintery dock which ran out into the lake. Sylvia sat by, absorbed in a -book, and when Charlie questioned her as to the meaning of this strange -phenomenon, she replied that Mr. McCallum (known to us previously as -“the Louisville dandy”) was probably experimenting with the creases in -his trousers. - -Dressing for luncheon and the trip home, Sylvia had a consultation with -her friend Harriet. “Do you suppose I’m really in love?” was her -question. - -“With whom?” asked Harriet. - -But Sylvia paid no heed to this feeble wit. “I don’t think he approves -of me, Harriet. He thinks I’m shallow and vain—a trifler with hearts.” - -“What would you have him think?” persisted the other. - -“He isn’t like other men, Harriet. He makes me ashamed of myself. I -think I ought to treat him differently.” - -Whereat her friend became suddenly serious. “Look here, Sunny, don’t you -lose your nerve! You stick to your game!” - -“But suppose he won’t stand it?” - -“_Make_ him stand it! Take my advice, now, and don’t go trying -experiments. You’ve learned one way, and you’re a wonder at it—don’t get -yourself mixed up at the critical moment.” - -Sylvia was gazing at herself in the mirror, wondering at the look on her -own face. “I don’t know what to do next!” she cried. - -“The Lord takes care of children and fools,” said Harriet. “I hope He’s -on His job!” Then the luncheon gong sounded, and they went downstairs. - -There was a new man, who had arrived the night before. He was named -Pendleton, and Sylvia found herself placed next to him. She suspected -that he had arranged this, and was bored by the prospect, and purposely -talked with Charlie Peyton on her other side. Towards the end of the -meal a servant came in and whispered to the hostess, who rose suddenly -with the exclamation, “Frank Shirley is here!” Amid the general silence -that fell Sylvia began suddenly to eat with assiduity. - -The hostess went out, and returned after a minute or so with Frank at -her heels. “Do sit down,” she was saying. “At least have some of this -sherbet.” - -“I’ve had my luncheon,” he replied; “I supposed you’d have finished.” -But he seated himself at the table, as requested. There was a general -pause, everybody expecting some explanation; but he volunteered none. - -Opposite to Sylvia was Belle Johnston, an insipid young person who had a -reputation for wit, for which she made other people pay. “Did you think -it looked like rain, Mr. Shirley?” she inquired. Sylvia could have -destroyed her. - -“The weather is very pleasant,” said Frank. No one could be sure whether -he was imperturbable, or had missed the jest altogether. - -Harriet, seeing her friend’s alarming appetite and discomfort, stepped -in now to save the situation. “I hope you brought me a message from your -sister,” she remarked. “I am expecting one.” - -But Frank would have none of any such devices. “I’m sorry,” he said, -“but I haven’t brought it.” - -Sylvia was furious. Had he no tact, no social sense at all—not even any -common gratitude? He ought to have waited outside, where he would have -been less conspicuous; instead of sitting there, dumb as an oyster, -looking at her and obviously waiting for her! Sooner or later everyone -must notice. - -With a sudden impulse she turned to the man at her side. “I am sorry you -came so late,” she said. - -“I am more than sorry,” he replied, brightening instantly. - -“I really must go home this afternoon,” she said. - -He was encouraged by her tone of regret. “I think I will tell you -something,” he said. - -“Well?” - -“I came here on purpose to meet you. I was visiting my friends, the -Allens, at Thanksgiving, and all the men there were talking of you.” - -This, of course, was ancient history to Sylvia. “What were they saying?” -she asked—and stole a glance at Frank. - -“They said you’d never let a man go without hurting him. At least, not -if you thought him worth while.” - -“Dear me!” she exclaimed, astonished and flattered. “I wonder that you -weren’t afraid to meet me!” - -“I was amused,” answered the other. “I thought to myself, I’d like to -see her hurt me.” - -Sylvia lifted her delicate eyebrows and gave him a slow, quiet stare, -four-fifths scorn and one-fifth challenge. - -“Gad!” he exclaimed. “You are interesting for a fact! When you look like -that!” - -“Not otherwise?” she inquired, now wholly scornful. - -“Oh, you’re not the most beautiful woman I ever saw! Nor the cleverest!” - -“Do not challenge me like that.” - -“Why not?” he laughed. - -“You might regret it.” - -“It would be a good adventure—I’d be willing to pay the price to see the -game. I admire a woman who knows her business.” - -So the banter continued; the man displaying his cleverness and Sylvia -casting upon him glances of mockery, of contempt, half veiling curiosity -and interest. He, of course, being secretly convinced of his own -irresistibility, was noting these glances and speculating about them, -thrilled by them without realizing it, persuading himself that the girl -was really coming to admire him. This was a kind of encounter which had -occurred, not once, but a hundred times in Sylvia’s career, and usually -it meant nothing in particular to her. But now it brought a reckless -joy, because of the shock it was giving to that other man—the terrible -man who sat across the way, his eyes boring into her very soul! - - - § 18 - -When the luncheon was over, Sylvia made her way to Harriet Atkinson and -caught her by the arm. “Harriet!” she exclaimed. “You must help me!” - -“What?” whispered the other. - -“I can’t see him!” - -“But why not?” - -“He wants to lecture me, and I won’t stand it! I’m going into the -garden—take him somewhere else—you must!” Then, seeing Frank making -toward her, she gave Harriet a vicious pinch, and fled from the room. -There was a summer-house in the garden at the far end, and thither she -went upon flying feet. - -I was never sure how it happened—whether, as Harriet always vowed, she -tried to hold Frank and could not, or whether she turned traitor to her -friend. At any rate Sylvia had been there not more than a minute, and -had scarcely begun to get control of herself, when she heard a step, and -looking up, saw Frank Shirley coming down the path. - -There was but one door to the summer-house—and he soon occupied that. -“Go away!” she cried. “Go away!” (That was all that was left of her -_savoir faire_!) - -He stopped. “Miss Castleman,” he said—and his voice was hard, “I came -here to see you. But now I’m sorry I came.” - -The garrison rallied as to a trumpet-call. “That is too bad, Mr. -Shirley,” she said, with appalling _hauteur_. “But you know you do not -have to stay an instant.” - -He gazed at her in doubt for a moment. Her heart was pounding and the -color flooding her face. “I don’t believe you know what you are doing!” -he exclaimed. - -“Really!” she replied, witheringly. “Do you?” - -“No,” he went on, “I don’t understand you at all. But I simply _will_ -find out!” - -He strode towards her. She shrank into the seat, but he caught her -hands. For a moment she resisted; but he held fast, and from his hands -she felt a current as of fire, flowing through all her veins. - -Slowly he drew her to her feet. “Sylvia!” he whispered. “Sylvia! Look at -me!” - -She obeyed him instinctively, and their eyes met. “You love me!” he -exclaimed. She could hear his quick breathing. She felt herself sinking -towards him. She felt his arms about her, his breath upon her cheek. - -“I love you!” he murmured. And she closed her eyes, and he kissed her -again and again. In his kisses it seemed to her that she would melt -away. - -She was exultant and happy. The testimony of his love was rapture to -her. But then suddenly came a fear which they had inculcated in her. All -the women who had ever talked to her on the problem of the -male-creature—all agreed that nothing was so fatal as to allow the -taking of “liberties.” Also there came sudden shame. She began to -struggle. “You must not kiss me! It is not right!” - -“But, Sylvia!” he protested. “I love you!” - -“Oh, stop!” she pleaded. “Stop!” - -“You love me!” he whispered. - -“Please, please stop!” - -A gentle pressure would have held her, but she felt that he was -releasing her—all but one hand. She sank down upon the seat, trembling. -“Oh, you ought not to have done it!” she cried. - -He asked, “Why not?” - -“No man has ever done that to me before!” The thought of what he had -done, the memory of his lips upon her cheek, sent the blood flying there -in hot waves; she began to sob: “No, no! You should not have done it!” - -“Sylvia!” he pleaded, surprised by her vehemence. “Don’t you realize -that you love me?” - -“I don’t know! I’m afraid! I must have time!” She was weeping -convulsively now. “You will never respect me again!” - -“You must not say such a thing as that! It is not true!” - -“You will go away and remember it, and you will despise me!” - -His voice was calm and very soothing. “Sylvia,” he said, “I have told -you that I love you. And I believe that you love me. If that is so, I -had a perfect right to kiss you, and you had a perfect right to let me -kiss you.” - -There he was, sensible as ever; Sylvia found the storm of her emotion -dying away. She had time to recall one of the maxims of Lady Dee: “A -woman should never let a man see her weeping. It makes her cheeks pale -and her nose red.” She resolved that she would stay in the protecting -shadows of the summer-house until after he had departed. - - - § 19 - -She went home; and at the dinner-table she was telling some of the -adventures of the house party. “Oh, by the way,” she said, carelessly, -“I met Frank Shirley.” - -“Really?” exclaimed Mrs. Castleman. “Those poor, unfortunate people!” - -“He must be quite a man now,” said Aunt Varina. “How old is he?” - -“About twenty-one,” said the mother. Sylvia was amazed; she had not -thought definitely of his age, but he had seemed a mature man to her. - -“I see him now and then,” put in the Major. “He comes to town. Not a -bad-looking chap.” - -“He asked if he might call,” said Sylvia. “I told him, Yes. Was that -right, Papa?” - -“Why, certainly,” was the reply. - -“He seems a very shy, silent kind of man,” she added. “He wasn’t sure -that he’d be welcome.” - -“Why, my dear,” exclaimed Mrs. Castleman. “I’m sure we’ve never made any -difference in our treatment of the Shirleys!” - -“Bob Shirley’s children will always be welcome to my home, so long as -they behave themselves,” declared the father. - -And so Sylvia left the matter, content with their attitude. Frank was -wrong in his estimate of her family. - -Two days later there came a negro man, riding a mule and carrying a bag, -with a note from Frank. He begged her to accept this present of quail, -because she had lost so much of her hunting time, and Charlie Peyton’s -aim had been so bad. Sylvia read the note, and got from it a painful -shock. The handwriting was boyish and the manner of expression crude. -She was used to leisure-class stationery, with her monogram in gold at -the top, and this was written upon a piece of cheap paper. Somehow it -made the whole matter seem unreal and incredible to her. She found -herself trying to recall how he looked. - -So she went to sleep; and awakening early the next morning, waiting for -the agreeable tinkle of the approaching coffee-cup—there suddenly he -came to her! Just as real as he had been in the summer-house, with his -breath upon her cheek! The delicious, blinding ecstasy possessed her -again—and then fresh humiliation at the memory of his kisses! Oh, why -did he not come to see her—instead of leaving her the prey of her fancy? -She could not escape from the idea that she had lost his respect by -flinging herself at his head—by permitting him to kiss her. - -The next morning came the negro again, this time with a great bunch of -golden-rod. “What a present!” exclaimed the whole family; but Sylvia -understood and was happy. “It’s because of my hair,” she told the -others, laughing. It must be that he loved her, despite her -indiscretions! - -He wrote that he was coming to see her that evening; and that because of -the length of the ride, he would accept her invitation and come to -dinner. So Sylvia braced herself for the ordeal. - -She dressed very simply, so as not to attract attention. Uncle -Mandeville was there, and two girl cousins from Louisville, visiting the -family, and two of the Bishop’s boys and one of Barry Chilton’s, who -dropped in at the last moment to see them. That was the way at Castleman -Hall—there were never less than a dozen people at any meal, and the cook -allowed for twenty. To all this crowd Sylvia had to introduce her -strange new conquest, ignoring their glances of inquiry and parrying -their mischievous shafts. - -I must let you see this family at dinner. At the head of the table sits -the Major, with gray hair and a gray imperial, wearing his black vest -cut so low that he can plead it is evening dress; still adhering -valiantly to the custom of his fathers, and carving the roast for his -growing family, while the littlest girls, who come last, follow each -portion with hungry eyes and count the number intervening. At the foot -sits Mrs. Castleman, serving the salad and dessert, her ample figure -robed in satin. “Miss Margaret” is just at that stage of her life, after -the birth of the son and heir, when she has definitely abandoned the -struggle with an expanding waistline. When I met her, some years later, -she weighed two hundred and eighty pounds, and was the best-natured and -most comically inefficient human soul I have ever encountered in my -life. - -There is Aunt Varina Tuis, humble and inconspicuous, weary after a day -of trotting up and down stairs after the housekeeper, to see that the -embroidered napkins were counted before they went to the laundry, that -the drawing-room furniture was dusted, the dead flowers taken out of the -dining-room, the fleas in the servants’ quarters kept in subjection. -Mrs. Tuis’ queer little voice is seldom heard at the dinner-table, -unless she is appealed to in some matter of family history: whom this -one married, whom that one had been engaged to, whether or not it was -true that some neighbor’s grandfather had kept a grocery store, as -rumored. - -Then there is Uncle Mandeville, home to recuperate from a spree in New -Orleans; enormous in every direction, rosy-faced and prosperous, with a -resounding laugh and an endless flow of fun. Beside him sits Celeste, -the next daughter, presenting a curious contrast to Sylvia, with her -restless black eyes, her positive manner and worldly viewpoint. There -are the two cousins from Louisville, healthy and radiant, and the two -Chilton boys, Clive and Harley, and Barry’s boy, who is a giant like -Uncle Mandeville, and whenever he laughs, makes the cut glass to rattle -on the buffet. - -All this family hunts in one pack. They know all each other’s affairs, -and take an interest in them, and stand together against the rest of the -world. They are a noisy crew, good-humored, careless, but with hot -tempers and little control of them—so that when their interests clash -and they get on one another’s toes, they quarrel as violently as before -they loved. Their conversation is apt to be bewildering to a stranger, -for they seldom talk about general questions, having a whole arcanum of -family allusions not easily understood. At this meal, for example, they -are merry for half an hour over the latest tales of the doings of an -older brother of Clive and Harley, who has married a girl with rich -parents, but is too proud to take a dollar from them, and is forcing his -bride to play at decent poverty. When the provisions run out they visit -the Bishop, or the Major, or Uncle Barry, as may be most convenient, and -go off with an automobile-load of hams and sausage-puddings and pickles -and preserves. How many jokes there are, and what gales of merriment go -round the table! The Bishop’s son the first kleptomaniac in the family! -Barry’s young giant declaring that a single smile from the bride cost -his father a cow and calf! The little girls, Peggy and Maria, chiming in -with their tale of how the predatory couple found a lone chicken -foraging in the rose-garden, confiscated it, carried it off under -Basil’s coat, tied it by the leg under the piazza at the back of their -house in town—and then forgot it and let it starve to death! - -Sylvia sat watching this tableful of care-free, rollicking people—the -men handsome, finely built, well-fed and well-groomed, the women -delicate, soft-skinned and exquisitely gowned—representing the best type -their civilization could produce. A pleasant scene it was, with snowy -damask cloth and bouquets of roses, precious old silver and quaint -hand-painted china, with a background of mahogany furniture and paneled -walls. She watched Frank in the midst of it, thinking of his home as -Harriet had pictured it—the people subdued and sombre, the stamp of -poverty upon everything. She was glad to see that he was able to fit -himself into the mood of this company, enjoying the sallies of fun and -pleasing those he talked to. - -The house being full of young couples who wanted to be alone, Sylvia -took Frank into the library. She liked this room, with its red leather -furniture and cozy fireplace, and queer old book-cases with -diamond-shaped panes of glass. She liked it because the lights were on -the table, and no woman looks beautiful when lighted from over her head. -This may seem a small matter to you, but Sylvia had learned how much -depends upon detail. She remembered one of the maxims of Lady Dee: “Get -a man on your home-ground, where you can have things as you want them; -and then place your chair to show the best side of your face.” - -These things I set down as Sylvia told them to me—a long time -afterwards, when we could laugh over them. It was a fact about her all -the way through, that whatever she did, good or bad, she knew why she -was doing it. In this she differed from a good many other women, who are -not honest, even with themselves, and who feel that things become vulgar -only when they are mentioned. The study of her own person and its charms -was of course the very essence of her rôle as a “belle.” At every stage -of her life she had been drilled and coached—how to dance, how to enter -a drawing-room, how to receive a compliment, how to toy with a suitor. -At Miss Abercrombie’s, the young ladies had an etiquette teacher who -gave them instructions in the most minute details of their deportment; -not to bend your body too much, but mainly your knees, when you sat -down; not to let your hands lie flat at your sides, but to turn your -little fingers gracefully out; never to hesitate or think of yourself -when entering a room, but to fix your thoughts upon some person, and -move towards that person with decision. Sylvia had needed this last -instruction especially, for in the beginning she had had a terrible time -entering rooms. It should be a comfort to some would-be belles to know -that Sylvia Castleman, who attained in the end to such eminence in her -profession, was at the outset a terrified child with shaking knees and -chattering teeth, who never would have gone anywhere of her own choice! - - - § 20 - -Now she was ready to try out all these instructions upon Frank. The -scene was set and lighted, the curtain rose—but somehow there was a -hitch in the performance. Frank was moody again. He sat staring before -him, frowning somberly; and she looked at him in a confusion of -anxieties. He did not love her after all—she had simply seized upon him -and compelled his attention, and now he was longing to extricate -himself! Even if this were not true, it would soon come to that, for she -could think of nothing interesting to say, and he would be bored. - -She racked her wits. What could she talk about to a man who knew none of -her “set,” who never went to balls or dinners, who could not conceivably -care about polite gossip? Why didn’t _he_ say something—the silent man! -What manners to take into company! - -“I must make him look at me,” she resolved. So without saying a word, -she began taking a rose from her corsage and adjusting it in her hair. -The motion distracted him, and she saw that he was watching. She had -him! - -“Is that in right?” she asked. Of course a _la France_ rose in perfectly -arranged hair is always “in right,” and Sylvia knew it. Her little -device failed abjectly, for Frank answered simply “Yes,” and began -staring into space again. - -She tried once more, contenting herself with the barest necessities of -conversation. “Did you shoot those quail yourself?” - -Then he turned. “Miss Sylvia, I have something I must say to you. I’ve -had time to think things over.” He paused. - -Ah, now it was coming! He had had time to think things over—and he -called her “_Miss_ Sylvia!” Something cried out in her to make haste and -release him before he asked it. But she could not speak—she was as if -pinned by a lance. - -He went on. “Miss Sylvia, I had made up my mind that love was not for -me. I knew that to women of my own class I was a man with a tainted -name—a convict’s son; and I would rather die than marry beneath me. So I -shut up my heart, and when I met a woman, I turned and went away—as I -tried to do with you. But you would not have it, and I could not resist -you. I’ve been amazed at the intensity of my own feelings; it’s -something I could not have dreamed of—and unless I’m mistaken, it’s been -the same with you.” - -It was a bold man who could use words such as those to Sylvia. To what -merciless teasing he laid himself open! But she only drew a deep sigh of -relief. He still loved her! - -“I forced myself to stay away,” he continued, without waiting for her to -answer. “I said, ‘I must not go near her again. I must run away -somewhere and get over it.’ And then again I said, ‘I can make her -happy—I will marry her.’ I said that, but I’m not going to do it.” - -He paused. Oh, what a voice he had! Sylvia felt the blood ebbing and -flowing in her cheeks, pounding in her ears. She could not hear his -words very well—but he loved her! - -“Sylvia,” he was saying, earnestly—as if half to convince himself—“we -must both of us wait. You must have time to consider what loving me -would mean. You have all these people—happy people; and I have nothing -like that in my life. You have this beautiful home, expensive -clothes—every luxury. But I am a poor man. I have only a mortgaged -plantation, with a mother and a brother and two sisters to share it. I -have no career—I have not even an education. All your uncles, your -cousins, your suitors, are college men, and I am a plain farmer. So I -face what seems to me the worst temptation a man could have. I see you, -and you are everything in the world that is desirable; and I believe -that I could win you and carry you away from here. My whole being cries -out, ‘Go and take her! She loves you! She wants you to!’ But instead, I -have to come here and say, ‘Think it over. Make sure of your feelings; -that it’s not simply a flush of excitement.’ You being the kind of -tenderhearted thing you are, it might so easily be a romantic imagining -about a man who’s apart from other men—one you feel sorry for and would -like to help! You see what I mean? It isn’t easy for me to say it, but -I’d be a coward if I didn’t say it—and mean it—and stand by it.” - -There was a long pause. Sylvia was thinking. How different it was from -other men’s love-making! There was Malcolm McCallum, who had taken her -driving yesterday, and had said what they all said: “Never mind if you -don’t love me—marry me, and let me teach you to love me.” In other -words, “Stake your life’s happiness upon a blind chance, at the command -of my desire.” Of course they would surround her with all the external -things of life, build her a great house and furnish it richly, deck her -with silks and jewels and supply her with servants. All the world would -come to admire her, and then she would be so grateful to her generous -lord that she could not but love him. - -Her voice was low as she answered, “A woman does not really care about -the outside things. She wants love most. She wants to be sure of her -heart—but of the man’s heart too.” - -“As to that,” he said, “I will not trust myself to speak. You are the -loveliest vision that has ever come to me. You are——” - -“I know,” she interrupted. “But that, too, is mostly surface. I am -luxurious, I am artificial and shallow—a kind of butterfly.” This was -what she said to men when she wished to be most deadly. But now she -really meant it; there was a mist of tears in her eyes. - -“That is nothing,” he answered. “I am not such a fool that I can’t see -all that. There are two people in you, as in all of us. The question is, -which do you want to be?” - -“How can I say?” she murmured. “It would be a question of whether you -loved me——” - -“Ah, Sylvia!” he cried, in a voice of pain that startled her. And -suddenly he rose and began to pace the room. “I cannot talk about my -feeling for you,” he said. “I made up my mind before I came here that I -would not woo you—not if I had to bite off my tongue to prevent it. I -said, ‘I will explain to her, and then I will go away and give her -time.’ I want to play fair. I want to _know_ that I have played fair.” - -As he stood there, she could see the knotted tendons in his hands, she -could see the agitation of his whole being. And suddenly a great current -took her and bore her to him. She put her hands upon his shoulders, -whispering, “Frank!” - -He stood stiff and silent. - -“I love you!” she said. “I love you!” She gave a little sob of -happiness; and he caught her in his arms and pressed her to his bosom, -crushing all her roses, and stifling her words with his kisses. And so, -a few minutes later, Sylvia was lying back in her favorite chair, with -the satisfaction of knowing at last that he was looking at her. A couple -of hours later, when he went away, it was as her plighted lover. - - - § 21 - -Frank came again two days later; and then Mrs. Castleman made her first -remark. “Sylvia,” she said, “you mustn’t flirt with that man.” - -“Why not, Mother?” - -“Because he’d probably take it seriously. And he’s had a hard time, you -know. We can’t treat the Shirleys quite as we do other people.” - -“All right,” said Sylvia. “I’ll be careful.” - -Frank wanted the engagement made known at once—at least to the family. -Such was his direct way. But Sylvia had an instinct against telling; she -wanted a little time to watch and study and plan. - -It was hard, however; she was absolutely shining with happiness—there -seemed to be a kind of soul-electricity that came from her and affected -everyone she met. It gathered the men about her thicker than ever—and at -the very time that she wanted to be alone with Frank and the thought of -Frank! - -One evening when the Young Matrons’ Club gave its monthly cotillion, -Frank, knowing nothing about this event, called unexpectedly. A visit -meant to him forty miles on horseback; and so, to the general -consternation, Sylvia refused to attend the dance. All evening the -telephone rang and the protests poured in. “We won’t stand for it!” the -men declared; and the women asked, “Who is it?” She had been to a -bridge-party that afternoon, and everyone knew she was not sick. But -what man could it be, when all the men were at the cotillion? - -So the gossip began; and a week later another incident gave it wings. It -was a great occasion, the semi-annual ball of the Country Club, and -Frank had been warned that Sylvia would not be at home. But he wanted to -see her in her glory, and he galloped his twenty miles in darkness and -rain, and turned up at the club-house at midnight, and stood in the -doorway to watch. Sylvia, seeing him and realizing what his presence -meant, was seized with a sudden impulse to acknowledge him. She stopped -dancing, and sent her partner away, and stood talking to Frank. Oh, what -a staring, what a wagging of tongues! Frank Shirley! Of all people in -the world, Frank Shirley! - -Of course, the news came to the Hall. Early in the morning, Aunt Nannie -called up, announcing a visit, and there followed a family conclave with -Mrs. Castleman, Aunt Varina and Sylvia. - -“Sylvia,” said Mrs. Chilton, trying her best to look casual, “I -understand that Frank Shirley was at the ball.” - -“Yes, Aunt Nannie.” - -There was a pause. “What was he doing there?” asked “Miss Margaret,” -evidently having been coached. - -“Why, I’m sure, Mother, I don’t know.” - -“Did you invite him?” - -“Indeed, I did not.” - -“He isn’t a member of the Club, is he?” - -“No; but he knows lots of other people who are.” - -“Everybody is saying he came to see you,” broke in Aunt Nannie. “They -say you stopped dancing to talk with him.” - -“I can’t help what they say, Aunt Nannie.” - -“Do you think,” inquired the Bishop’s wife, “that it was altogether wise -to get your name associated with his?” - -“Isn’t he a gentleman?” asked Sylvia. - -“That’s all right, my dear, but you’ve got to remember that you live in -the world, and must consider other people’s point of view.” - -“Do you mean, Aunt Nannie, that Frank Shirley’s to be excluded from -society because of his father’s misfortune?” - -“Not excluded, Sylvia. There are shades to such things. The point is -that a young girl—a girl conspicuous, like you——” - -“But, Aunt Nannie, I asked mother and father, and they were willing to -receive him. Isn’t that true, Mother?” - -“Why, yes, Sylvia,” said “Miss Margaret,” weakly, “but I didn’t mean——” - -“It was all right for him to come here, once or twice,” interrupted Aunt -Nannie. “But at a Club ball——” - -“The point is, Sylvia dear,” quavered Mrs. Tuis, “you will get yourself -a reputation for singularity.” - -And the mother added, “You surely don’t have to do that to attract -attention!” - -So there it was. All that fine sentiment about the unhappy Shirleys went -like a film of mist before a single breath of the world’s opinion! They -would not say it brutally—“He’s a convict’s son, and you can’t afford to -know him too well.” It was not the Southern fashion—at least among the -older generation—to be outspoken in worldliness. They had generous -ideals, and made their boast of “chivalry;” but here, when it came to a -test, they were all in accord with Aunt Nannie, who was said to “talk -like a cold-blooded Northern woman.” - -Sylvia decided at once that some one must be told; so she went back to -lunch with her aunt, and afterwards sought out the Bishop in his study. -The walls of this room were lined with ancient theological treatises and -sermons in faded greenish-black bindings: an array which never failed to -appal the soul of Sylvia, who realized that she had consigned to the -scrap-heap all this mass of learning—and had not yet apologized for her -temerity. - -“Uncle Basil,” she began, “I have something very, very important to tell -you.” The Bishop turned from his desk and gazed at her. “I am engaged to -be married,” she said. - -“Why, Sylvia!” he exclaimed. - -“And I—I’m very much in love.” - -“Who is the man, my dear?” - -“It is Frank Shirley.” - -Sylvia was used to watching people and reading their thoughts quickly. -She saw that her uncle’s first emotion was one of dismay. “Frank -Shirley!” - -“Yes, Uncle Basil.” - -Then she saw him gather himself together. He was going to try to be -fair—the dear soul! But she could not forget that his first emotion had -been dismay. “Tell me about it, my child,” he said. - -“I met him at the Venable’s,” she replied, “only a couple of weeks ago. -He’s an unusual sort of man, lonely and unhappy, very reserved and hard -to get at. He fell in love with me—very much in love; but he didn’t want -me to know it. He did tell me at last.” - -The Bishop was silent. “I love him,” she added. - -“Are you sure?” - -“As I’ve never loved anybody—as I never dreamed I could love.” - -There was a pause. “Uncle Basil—he’s a good man,” she said. “That is why -I love him.” - -Again there was a pause. “Have you told your father and mother?” asked -the Bishop. - -“Not yet.” - -“You must tell them at once, Sylvia.” - -“I know they will make objections, and I want you to meet Frank and talk -with him. You see, Uncle Basil, I’m going to marry him—and I want your -help.” - -The Bishop was silent again, weighing his next words. “Of course, my -dear,” he said, “from a worldly point of view it is not a good match, -and I fear your parents will regard it as a calamity. But, as you know, -I think of nothing but the happiness of my darling Sylvia. I won’t say -anything at all until I have met the man. Send him to see me, little -girl, and then I will give you the best counsel I can.” - - - § 22 - -Frank went to pay his call the next day, and then came back to Sylvia. -“He’s a dear old man,” he said. “And he wants what is best for you.” - -“What does he want?” demanded Sylvia. - -“He says we should not marry now—that I ought to be better able to take -care of you. And of course he’s right.” - -There was a pause; then suddenly Frank exclaimed, “Sylvia, I can’t be -just a farmer if I’m going to marry you.” - -“What can you be, Frank?” - -“I’m going to go to college.” - -“But that would take four years!” - -“No, it needn’t. I could dig in and get into the Sophomore class this -winter. I’ve been through a military academy, and I was going to -Harvard, where my father and my grandfather went, but I thought it was -my duty to come home and see to the place. But now my brother has grown -up, and he has a good head for business.” - -“What would you do ultimately?” - -“I’ve always wanted to study law, and I think now I ought to. Nobody is -going to be willing for us to marry at once; and they’re much less apt -to object to me if I’m seriously going to make something of myself.” - -Sylvia went over the next morning to get her uncle’s blessing. The good -Bishop gave it to her—together with some exhortations which he judged -she needed. They were summed up in one sentence which he pronounced: -“There is nothing more unhappy in this world than a serious-minded man -with a worldly-minded wife.” Poor old Uncle Basil, with his snow-white -hair and his patient, saintly face, worn with care—how much of his own -soul he put into that utterance! Sylvia laid her head upon his shoulder, -and let the tears run down upon his coat. - -After a while, he remarked, “Sylvia, your aunt saw Frank come here.” - -“What!” exclaimed Sylvia. “You don’t mean that she’ll guess!” - -“She’s very clever at guessing, my child.” So Sylvia, as she rode home, -realized that she had no more time to lose. When she got to the Hall, -she set to work at once to carry out her plans. - -She found her Aunt Varina in her room with a headache. On her -dressing-table was a picture of the late-lamented Mr. Tuis, which Sylvia -picked up. By manifesting a little interest in it, she quickly got her -aunt to talking on the subject of matrimony. - -Mrs. Tuis was the youngest of the Major’s sisters. In the face of the -protests of her relatives she had married a comparatively “common” man, -who was poor and had turned out to be a drunkard, and after leading Aunt -Varina a dog’s life, had taken chloral. So Mrs. Tuis had come back to -eat the bread of charity—which, though it was liberally sweetened with -affection, had also a slightly bitter taste of compassion. - -Her ill-fated romance was a poor thing, perhaps—but her own. As she told -it her bosom fluttered and the tears trickled down her cheeks; and when -she had got to a state of complete deliquescence, her niece whispered: -“Oh, Aunt Varina, I’m so glad you believe in love! Aunt Varina, will you -keep a solemn secret if I tell it to you?” - -And so came the story of the amazing engagement. Mrs. Tuis listened with -wide-open, startled eyes, every now and then whispering, “Sylvia! -Sylvia!” Of course she was thrilled to the deeps of her soul by it; and -of course, in the mood that she had been caught, she could not possibly -refuse her sympathy. “You must help me with the others,” said the girl. -“I’m going to tell mother next.” - - - § 23 - -The first thing that struck you about “Miss Margaret” was her appalling -incompetence. But underneath it lay the most exclusively maternal soul -imaginable. She had nursed her children when they were almost two years -old, great healthy calves running about the place and standing up to -suck; she had rocked them to sleep in her arms when they were big enough -to be reading Virgil; she had shed as many tears over a broken finger as -most mothers shed over a funeral. She wanted her daughters to be happy, -and to this end she would give them anything that civilization provided; -she would even be willing that one of them should marry a man whose -father “wore stripes”—so far as she was concerned, and so long as she -remained alone with the daughter. You must picture her, clasping Sylvia -in her arms and weeping from general agitation; moved to pity by the -tale of Frank’s loneliness, moved to awe by the tale of his goodness—but -then suddenly smitten as by a thunderbolt with the thought: “What will -people say! What will your Aunt Nannie say!” - -While Sylvia was bent upon having her way, you must not imagine that she -did not feel any of these emotions. Although she was mostly Lady Lysle, -her far-off ancestress, she was also a little of “Miss Margaret,” and -was almost capsized in these gales of emotion. She remembered a hundred -scenes of tenderness and devotion; she clasped the great girl-mother in -her arms, and mingled their tears and vowed that she would never do -anything to make her unhappy. It was a lachrymal lane—this pathway of -Sylvia’s engagement! - -With her father she took a different line. She got the Major alone in -his office and talked to him solemnly, not about love and romance, but -about Frank Shirley’s character. She knew that the Major was disturbed -by the wildness of the young men of the world about him; she had heard -him discuss the pace at which Aunt Nannie’s boys were traveling. And -here was a man who had sowed no wild oats, and had learned the lesson of -self-control. - -She was surprised at the way the Major took it. He clutched the arms of -his chair and went white when he caught the import of her discourse; but -he heard her to the end, and then sat for a long while in silence. -Finally, he inquired, “Sylvia, did anybody ever tell you why your Uncle -Laurence killed himself?” - -“No,” she replied. - -“He was engaged to a girl, and her parents made her break off the match. -I never knew why; but it ruined the girl’s life, as well as his, and it -made a terrible impression on me. So I made a vow—and now, I suppose, is -the time I have to keep it. I said I would never interfere in a -love-affair of one of my children!” - -Sylvia was deeply affected, not only by his words, but by the intense -agitation which she saw he was repressing. “Papa, does it seem so very -dreadful to you?” she asked. - -Again there was a long wait before he answered. “It is something quite -different from what I had expected,” he said. “It will make a difference -in your whole life—to an extent which I fear you cannot realize.” - -“But if I really love him, Papa?” - -“If you really love him, my dear, then I will not try to oppose you. But -oh, Sylvia, be sure that you love him! You must promise me to wait until -I can be sure you are not mistaken about that.” - -“I expect to wait, Papa,” she said. “There will be no mistake.” - -They talked for half an hour or so, and then Sylvia went to her room. -Half an hour later “Aunt Sarah,” the cook, came flying to her in great -agitation. “Miss Sylvia, what’s de matter wid yo’ papa?” - -“What?” cried Sylvia, springing up. - -“He’s sittin’ on a log out beyan’ de garden, cryin’ fo’ to break his -heart!” - -Sylvia fled to the spot, and fell upon her knees by him and flung her -arms about him, crying, “Papa, Papa!” He was still sobbing; she had -never seen him exhibit such emotion in her life before, and she was -terrified. “Papa, what is it?” - -She felt him shudder and control himself. “Nothing, Sylvia. I can’t tell -you.” - -“Papa,” she whispered, “do you object to Frank Shirley as much as that?” - -“No, my dear—it isn’t that. It’s that the whole thing has knocked me off -my feet. My little girl is going away from me—and I didn’t know she was -grown up yet. It made me feel so old!” - -He looked at her, trying to smile and feeling a little ashamed of his -tears. She looked into the dear face, and it seemed withered and -wrinkled all of a sudden. She realized with a pang how much he really -had aged. He was working so hard—she would see him at his accounts late -at night, when she was leaving for a ball, and would feel ashamed for -her joys that he had to pay for. “Oh, Papa, Papa!” she cried, “I ought -to marry a rich man!” - -“My child,” he exclaimed, “don’t let me hear you say a thing like that!” - -Poor, poor Major! He said it and he meant it; he was, I think, the most -_naïve_ of all the members of his family. He was a “Southern gentleman,” -not a business man; he hated money with his whole soul—hated it, even -while he spent it and enjoyed what it brought him. He was like a chip of -wood caught in a powerful current; swept through rapids and over -cataracts, to his own boundless bewilderment and dismay. - - - § 24 - -“He is without any pride of family.” That had been the verdict upon the -Major pronounced by his mother, who had been a grand lady in her own -day. She would turn to her eldest daughter and say, “Look after him, -Nannie! Make him keep his shoes shined!” And so now, towards the end of -their conference, Sylvia and her father found themselves looking at each -other and saying, “What will Aunt Nannie say?” Sylvia was laughing, but -all the same she had not the nerve to face her aunt, and ’phoned the -Bishop to ask him to break the news. - -Half an hour later the energetic lady’s automobile was heard at the -door. And now behold, a grand council, with the Major and his wife, Mrs. -Chilton, Mrs. Tuis, Mr. Mandeville Castleman, Sylvia and Celeste—the -last having learned that something startling had happened, and being -determined to find out about it. - -“Now,” began Aunt Nannie, “what is this that Basil has been trying to -tell me?” - -There was no reply. - -“Mandeville,” she demanded, “have you heard this news?” - -“No,” said Uncle Mandeville. - -“That Sylvia has engaged herself to Frank Shirley!” - -“Good God!” said Uncle Mandeville. - -“Sylvia!” exclaimed Celeste, in horror. - -“Is it true?” demanded Aunt Nannie—in a tone which said that she -declined to comment until official confirmation had been received. - -“It is true,” said Sylvia. - -“And what have you to say about it?” inquired Aunt Nannie. She looked -first at the Major, then at his wife, and then at Mrs. Tuis; but no one -had anything to say. - -“I can’t quite believe that you’re in your right senses,” continued the -speaker. “Or that I have heard you say the words. What _can_ have got -into you?” - -“Nannie,” said the Major, clearing his throat, “Sylvia doesn’t want to -marry him for a long time.” - -“But she proposes to be engaged to him, I understand!” - -“Yes,” admitted the other. - -“And this engagement is to be announced?” - -“Why—er—I suppose——” - -“Certainly,” put in Sylvia. - -“And when, may I ask?” - -“At once.” - -“And is there nobody here who has thought of the consequences? Possibly -you have overlooked the fact that one of my daughters has planned to -marry Ridgely Peyton next month. That is to be called off?” - -“What do you mean, Aunt Nannie?” - -“Can you be childish enough to imagine that the Peytons will consent to -marry into a family with a convict’s son in it?” - -“Nannie!” protested the Major. - -“I know!” replied Mrs. Chilton. “Sylvia doesn’t like the words. But if -she proposes to marry a convict’s son, she may as well get used to them -now as later. It’s the thing that people will be saying about her for -the balance of her days; the thing they’ll be saying about all of us -everywhere. Look at Celeste there—just ready to come out! How much -chance she’ll have—with such a start! Her sister engaged to Frank -Shirley!” - -Sylvia turned to Celeste, and the eyes of these two met. Celeste turned -pale, and her look was eloquent of dismay. - -“Nannie,” put in the Major, protestingly, “Frank Shirley is a fine, -straight fellow——” - -“I’ve nothing to say against Frank Shirley,” exclaimed the other. “I -know nothing about him, and never expect to know anything about him. But -I know the story of his family, and I know that he’s no right in ours. -And what’s more, he knows it too—if he were a man with any conscience or -self-respect, he’d not consent to ruin Sylvia’s life!” - -“Aunt Nannie,” broke in the girl, “is one to think of nothing in -marriage but worldly pride?” - -“Worldly pride!” ejaculated the other. “You call it worldly -pride—because you, who have been the favorite child of the Castlemans, -who have been given every luxury, every privilege, are asked not to -trample your sisters and cousins! To give way to a blind passion, and -put a stain upon our name that will last for generations! Where do you -suppose you’d have been to-day if your forefathers had acted in such -fashion? Do you imagine that you’d have been the belle of Castleman -Hall, the most sought-after girl in the state?” - -That was the argument. For some minutes Mrs. Chilton went on to pour it -forth. And angry as she was, Sylvia could not but feel the force of it, -and realize the effect it was producing on the other members of the -council. It was not the voice of a woman speaking; it was the voice of -something greater than any of them, or than all of them together—a thing -that had come from dim-distant ages, and would continue into an -impenetrable future. It was the voice of the Family! No light thing it -was, in truth, to be the favorite daughter of the Castlemans! Not a -responsibility one could evade, an honor one could decline! - -“You are where you are to-day,” proclaimed the speaker, “because other -women thought of you when they chose their husbands. And I have never -observed in you any unwillingness to accept the advantages they have -handed on to you, any contempt for admiration and success. You are only -a girl, of course; you can’t be expected to realize all the meaning of -your marriage to your family; but your mother and father know, and they -ought to have impressed it on you, instead of leaving you to run wild -and be trapped by the first unprincipled man that came along!” - -There was a pause. The Major and his wife sat in silence, with a guilty -look upon their faces. “Worldly pride!” exclaimed Aunt Nannie, turning -upon them. “Have you told her about your own marriage?” - -“What do you mean?” asked the Major. - -“You know very well,” was the reply, “that Margaret, when she married -you, was head over heels in love with a nice, respectable, poor young -preacher. And that she married you, not because she was in love with -you, but because she knew that you were a noble-minded gentleman, the -head of the oldest and best family in the county.” And then Aunt Nannie -turned upon Sylvia. “Suppose,” she demanded, “that your mother had been -sentimental and silly, and had run away with the preacher—have you any -idea where you’d be now?” - -Sylvia was hardly to be blamed for having no answer to this question, -which might have been too much for the most learned scientist. There was -silence in the council. - -“Or take Mandeville,” pursued the Voice of the Family. - -“Nannie!” protested Mandeville. - -“You don’t want it talked about, I know,” said the other, “but this is a -time for truth-telling. Your Uncle Mandeville was madly in love with a -girl—a girl who had position, and money too; but he would not marry her -because she had a sister who was ‘fast,’ and he would not bring such -blood into the family.” - -There was a pause. Uncle Mandeville’s head was bowed. - -“And do you remember,” persisted Aunt Nannie, “that when the question -was being discussed, your brother here asked that his growing daughters -be spared having to hear about a scandal? Do you remember that?” - -“Yes,” said Mandeville, “I remember that.” - -“And how much nobler was such conduct than that of your Uncle Tom. -Think——” - -One could feel a sudden thrill go through the assembly. “Oh!” cried Miss -Margaret, protestingly; and Mrs. Tuis exclaimed, “Nannie!” - -“Think of what happened to Tom’s wife!” the other was proceeding; but -here she was stopped by a firm word from the Major. “We will not discuss -that, sister!” - -There was a solemn pause, during which Sylvia and Celeste stared at each -other. They knew that Uncle Tom Harley, their mother’s brother, was an -army officer stationed in the far West; but they had never heard before -that he had a wife, and were amazed and a little frightened by the -revelation. It is in moments such as these, when the tempers of men and -women strike sparks, that one gets glimpses of the skeletons that are -hidden far back in the corners of family closets! - - - § 25 - -There was a phrase which Sylvia had heard a thousand times in the -discussions of her relatives; it was “bad blood.” “Bad blood” was a -thing which possessed and terrified the Castleman imagination. Sylvia -had but the vaguest ideas of heredity. She had heard it stated that -tuberculosis and insanity were transmissible, and that one must never -marry into a family where these disorders appeared; but apparently, -also, the family considered that poverty and obscurity were -transmissible—besides the general tendency to do things of which your -neighbors disapproved. And you were warned that these evils often -skipped a generation and reappeared. You might pick out a most excellent -young man for a husband, and then see your children return to the -criminal ways of his ancestors. - -That was Aunt Nannie’s argument now. When Sylvia cried, “What has Frank -Shirley done?” the reply was, “It’s not what he did, but what his father -did.” - -“But,” cried the girl, “his father was innocent! I’ve heard Papa say it -a hundred times!” - -“Then his uncle was guilty,” was Aunt Nannie’s response. “Somebody took -the money and gambled it away.” - -“But is gambling such a terrible offence? It seems to me I’ve heard of -some Castlemans gambling.” - -“If they do,” was the reply, “they gamble with their own money.” - -At which Sylvia cried, “Nothing of the kind! They have gambled, and then -come to Uncle Mandeville to get him to pay their debts!” - -Now that was a body-blow; for it was Aunt Nannie’s own boys who had -adopted this custom, which Sylvia had heard sternly reprehended in the -family councils. Aunt Nannie flushed, and Uncle Mandeville made haste to -interpose—“Sylvia, you should not speak so to your aunt.” - -“I don’t see why not,” declared the girl. “I am saying nothing but what -is true; and I have been attacked in the thing that is most precious in -life to me.” - -Here the Major felt it his duty to enter the debate. “Sylvia,” he said, -“I don’t think you quite realize your aunt’s feelings. It is no selfish -motive that leads her to make these objections.” - -“Not selfish?” asked the girl. “She’s admitted it’s her fear for her own -daughters, Papa——” - -“It’s just exactly as much for your own sister, Sylvia.” It was the -voice of Celeste, entering the discussion for the first time. Sylvia -stared at her, astonished, and saw her eyes alight, her face as set and -hard as Aunt Nannie’s. Sylvia realized all at once that she had an enemy -in her own house. - -She was trembling violently as she made reply. “Then, Celeste, I have to -give up everything that means happiness in life to me, because I might -frighten away rich suitors from my sister?” - -“Sylvia,” put in the Major, gravely, before Celeste could speak, “you -must not say things like that. It is not because Frank Shirley is poor -that we are objecting. The pride of the Castlemans is not simply a pride -of worldly power.” - -“She degrades us and degrades herself when she implies it!” exclaimed -Aunt Nannie. - -“It is a high and great pride,” continued the Major. “The pride of a -race of men and women who have scorned ignoble conduct and held -themselves above all dishonor. That is no weak or shallow thing, Sylvia. -It is a thing which sustains and upholds us at every moment of our -lives: that we are living, not merely for our individual selves, but for -all the generations that are to be. It may seem a cruel thing that the -sins of the fathers should be visited upon the children, but it is a law -of God. It was something that Bob Shirley himself said to me, with tears -in his eyes—that his children and his children’s children would have to -pay for what had been done.” - -“But, Papa!” cried Sylvia. “They don’t have to pay it, except that we -make them pay it!” - -“You are mistaken, my child,” said the Major, quietly. “It’s not we -alone. It was the whole of society that condemned him. We cannot -possibly wipe out the blot on the Shirley escutcheon.” - -“We can only drag ourselves down with them!” exclaimed Aunt Nannie. - -“Why, it’s just as if we said that going to prison was nothing!” cried -Celeste. - -“You must remember how many people there are looking up to us, Sylvia,” -put in Uncle Mandeville, solemnly. - -There they were, all in chorus; Sylvia gazed in anguish from one to -another. She gazed at her mother, just at the moment that that good lady -was preparing to express her opinion. For the particular thing which -held the imagination of “Miss Margaret” in thrall was this vision of the -Castlemans living their life as it were upon a stage, with the lower -orders in the pit looking on, imbibing instruction and inspiration from -the action of the lofty drama. - -Sylvia had heard it all before, and she could not bear to listen to it -now. The tears, which had long been in her eyes, suddenly began to roll -down her cheeks; she sprang up, exclaiming passionately, “You are all -against me! Everyone of you!” - -“Sylvia,” said her father, in distress, “that is not true!” - -“We would wade through blood for you!” exclaimed Uncle Mandeville—who -was always looking for a chance to shoot somebody for the honor of the -Castleman name. - -“We are thinking of nothing but your own future,” said the Major. “You -are only a child, Sylvia——” - -But Sylvia cried, “I can’t bear any more! You promised to stand by me, -Papa—and now you let Aunt Nannie come here and persuade you—Mamma -too—all of you! You will break my heart!” And so saying she fled from -the room, leaving the family council to proceed as best it could without -her. - - - § 26 - -Sylvia shut herself in her room and had a good, exhaustive cry. Then, -with her soul atmosphere cleared, she set to work to think out her -problem. - -She had to admit that the family had presented a strong case. There was -the matter of heredity, for example. Just how much likelihood might -there be, in the event of her marrying Frank, of her finding herself -with children of evil tendencies? Just what truth might there be in Aunt -Nannie’s point of view, that he was a selfish man, seeking to redeem his -family fortunes by allying himself with the Castlemans? The question -sounded cold-blooded, but then Sylvia always had to face the truth. - -Also there was the problem, to what extent a girl ought to sacrifice -herself to her family. There was no denying that they had done much for -her. She had been as their right eye to them; and what did she owe them -in return? There was no one of them whom she did not love, sincerely, -intensely; there was no one over whose sorrows she had not wept, whose -burdens she had not borne. And now she faced the fact that if she -married Frank Shirley, she would cause them unhappiness. She might argue -that they had no right to be unhappy; but that did not alter the -fact—they would be unhappy. Sylvia’s life so far had been a process of -bringing other people joy; and now, suddenly, she found herself in a -dilemma where it was necessary for her to cause pain. Upon whom ought it -to fall—upon her mother and father, her uncles and aunts—or upon Frank -Shirley and herself? - -Of all the arguments which produced an effect upon her, the most -powerful was that embodied in Aunt Nannie’s phrase, “a blind passion.” -Sylvia had been taught to think of “passion” as something low and -shameful; she did not like the vision of herself as a weak, infatuated -creature, throwing away all that other people had striven to give her. -Many were the phrases whereby all her life she had heard such conduct -scorned; there was a phrase from the Bible that was often -cited—something about “inordinate affection.” Just what was the -difference between ordinate and inordinate affection? And how was she to -decide in which category to place her love for Frank Shirley? - -For the greater part of two days and two nights Sylvia debated these -problems; and then she went to her father. The color was gone from her -cheeks, and she was visibly thinner; but her mind was made up. - -She told the Major all the doubts that had beset her and all the -arguments she had considered. She set forth his contention that the -pride of the Castlemans was not a “worldly pride;” and then she -announced her conclusion, which was that he was permitting himself to be -carried along, against his own better judgment, by the vanity of the -women of his family. - -Needless to say, the Major was startled by this pronouncement, delivered -with all the solemnity of a pontiff _ex cathedra_. But Sylvia was ready -with her proofs. There was Aunt Nannie, scheming and plotting day and -night to make great marriages for her children. Spending her husband’s -money in ways he disapproved, and getting—what? Was there a single one -of her children that was happy? Was there a single couple—for all the -rich marriages—that wasn’t living beyond its income, and jealous of -other people who were able to spend more? Harley, grumbling because he -couldn’t have a motor of his own—Clive, because he couldn’t afford to -marry the girl he loved! And both of them drinking and gambling, and -forcing Uncle Mandeville to pay their debts. - -“Sylvia, you know I have protested to your Aunt Nannie.” - -“Yes, Papa—but meantime you’re ruining your own health and fortune to -enable your daughters to run the same race. Here’s Celeste, like a hound -in the leash, eager to have her chance—just Aunt Nannie all over again! -I know, Papa—it’s terrible, and I can’t bear to hurt you with it, but I -have to tell you what my own decision is. I love Frank Shirley; I think -my love for him is a true love, and I can’t for a moment think of giving -it up. I’m sorry to have to break faith with the Family; I can only -plead that I didn’t understand the bargain when I made it, and that I -shall take care not to make my debt any greater.” - -“What do you mean, Sylvia?” - -“I mean that I want to give up the social game. I want to stop spending -fortunes on clothes and travel and luxuries; I want to stop being -paraded round and exhibited to men I’m not interested in. I want you to -give me a little money—just what I need to live—and let me go to New -York to study music for a year or two more, until I am able to teach and -earn my own living.” - -“Earn your own living! _Sylvia!_” - -“Precisely, Papa. And meantime, Frank can go through college and law -school, and when we can take care of ourselves, we’ll marry. That’s my -plan, and I’m serious about it—I want you to let me do it this year.” - -And there sat the poor Major, staring at her, his face a study of -unutterable emotions, whispering to himself, “My God! My God!” - -When Sylvia told me about this scene I reminded her of her experience -with the young clergyman who had come to convert her from heresy. “Don’t -you see now,” I asked, “why he called you the most dangerous woman in -Castleman County?” - - - § 27 - -This procedure of Sylvia’s was a beautiful illustration of what the -military strategists call an “offensive defence.” By the simple -suggestion of earning her own living, she got everything else in the -world that she wanted. It was agreed that she might make known her -engagement to Frank Shirley. It was agreed that she need have no more -money spent upon clothes and parties. Most important of all, it was -agreed that Aunt Nannie was to be informed that Sylvia’s course was -approved by her parents, and that Frank Shirley was to be welcomed to -Castleman Hall. - -But of course she was not to be allowed to earn money. Her father made -it clear that the bare suggestion of this caused him more unhappiness -than she could endure to inflict. When she protested, “I want to learn -something useful!” the dear old Major was ready with the proposition -that they learn something useful together; and forthwith unlocked the -diamond-paned doors of the old mahogany book-cases, and dragged forth -dust-covered sets of Grote’s “History of Greece,” and Hume’s “History of -England,” and Jefferson Davis’ “Rise and Fall of the Confederate -Government”—out of which ponderous volumes Sylvia read aloud to him for -several hours each day thereafter. - -So from now on this is to be the story of a wholly reformed and -chastened huntress of hearts. No more for her the tournaments of -coquetry, no more the trumpets of the ball-room peal. No longer shall we -behold her, clad in armor of chiffon and real lace, with breastplate of -American beauty roses and helmet of gold and pearls. No longer shall we -see the arrows of her red-brown eyes flying over the stricken field, -deep-dyed with the heart’s blood of Masculinity. Instead of this the -dusty tome and the midnight oil and the green eye-shade confront us; we -behold the uncanny spectacle of the loveliest of created mortals clad in -blue stockings and black-rimmed spectacles.—All this scintillating wit, -I make haste to explain, is not mine, but something which Avery -Crittenden, the town wag, dashed off in a moment of illumination, and -which appeared in the Castleman County _Register_ (no names, if you -please!) a couple of weeks after the news of Sylvia’s reformation had -stunned the world. - -I wish that space were less limited, so that I could tell you how -Castleman County received the tidings, and some few of the comical -episodes in the long war which it waged to break down her resolution of -withdrawal. It was the light of their eyes going out, and they could not -and would not be reconciled to it. They wrote letters, they sent -telegrams; they would come and literally besiege the house—sit in the -parlor and condole with “Miss Margaret,” no longer because Sylvia -refused to marry them, but merely because she refused to lead the german -with them! They would come with bands of music, with negro singers to -serenade her. One spring night a whole fancy-dress ball adjourned by -unanimous consent, and stormed the terraces of Castleman Hall and held -its revels under the windows; and so of course Sylvia had to stop trying -to read about Walpole’s ministry and invite them in and give them wine -and cake. On the evening of one of the club dances there was an -organized conspiracy; seventeen of her old sweethearts sent her roses, -and when in spite of this she did not come, the next day came seventeen -messengers, bearing seventeen packages, each containing a little cupid -wrapped in cotton-wool—but with his wings broken! - -Such was the pressure from outside; and within—there would be a new gown -sent by Uncle Mandeville, who was on another spree in New Orleans; a -gown that was really a dream of beauty and a crime not to wear. Or there -would be talk at the table about Dolly Witherspoon, Sylvia’s chief -rival, and the triumph she had won at the cotillion last night; how -Stanley Pendleton was “rushing” her, and how Cousin Harley had been -snubbed by her. And then some one gave a ball, and Charlie Peyton rang -up to say that he was getting drunk and going to the devil unless Sylvia -would come and dance with him! And when this device succeeded, and the -rumor of it spread—how many of the nicest boys in the county took to -getting drunk and going to the devil, because Sylvia would not come and -dance with them! - -I mention these things in order that you may understand that, sincere as -Sylvia was in her effort to withdraw from “society,” she was not -entirely successful. She still met “eligible” men, and she was still an -object of family concern. A few days after the council, she had been -surprised by a visit from Aunt Nannie, who came to apologize and make -peace. “I want you to know, Sylvia dear,” she declared, “that what I -said to you was said with no thought of anything but your own good.” -There was a reconciliation, with tears in the eyes of both of them—and a -renewal of the activities of Aunt Nannie. How often it happened to -Sylvia, when at some dance she fell into the clutches of an undesirable -man, that Aunt Nannie found a pretext for joining them—and presently, -without quite realizing how, Sylvia found that the man was gone, and -that she was settled for a _tête-à-tête_ with a more suitable companion! -Once she stopped to luncheon with the Bishop, and found herself being -shown a new album of photographs. There among English cathedrals and -Rhenish castles she stumbled upon a picture of the “Mansion House,” the -home of the wealthy Peytons. “What a lovely old place!” she exclaimed; -and her aunt remarked, “Charlie will inherit that, lucky boy!” - -She remembered also the case of Ned Scott, the young West Pointer who -came home on furlough, setting all the girls’ hearts aflutter with his -gray and gold gorgeousness. “My, what a handsome fellow!” exclaimed Aunt -Nannie. “It makes me happy just to watch him walk!” - -“An army man always has a good social position,” remarked “Miss -Margaret,” casually. - -“And an assured income,” added Aunt Varina, timidly. - -“He has a mole on his nose,” observed Sylvia. - - - § 28 - -Frank Shirley had passed the midwinter examinations at Harvard, and was -settled in the dormitory of his fathers; and so for a while the acute -agitation subsided. It began again in the summer, however—when Sylvia -proposed staying at the Hall, instead of going with the family to the -summer-place in the mountains of North Carolina. It was obvious that -this was in order to be near her lover; and so the whole battle had to -be fought over again. Aunt Nannie was unable to understand how Sylvia -could be willing to “publish her infatuation to the world.” - -“But I have only the summer when I can see him,” the girl argued. - -“But even so, my dear—to give up everything else, to change all your -plans, the plans of your whole family!” - -“Nobody need change, Aunt Nannie. Aunt Varina will stay with me gladly.” - -“Others have to stay, if it’s only to hide what you are doing. It’s not -decent, Sylvia! Believe me, you will lose the man’s own respect if you -behave so. No man can permanently respect a woman who betrays her -feelings so openly.” - -“My dear Aunt Nannie,” said Sylvia, quietly, “I am quite sure that I -know Frank Shirley better than you do.” - -“Poor, deluded child,” was Mrs. Chilton’s comment. “You’ll find to your -sorrow some day that men are all alike!” - -But the girl was obdurate. The family had to proceed to desperate -measures. First her mother declared that she would stay also—she must -remain to protect her unfortunate child. And then, of course, the Major -decided that it was his duty to remain. There came the question of -Celeste, who had planned a house party, and foresaw the spoiling of her -fun by the selfishness of her sister. There was also the baby—the -precious, ineffable baby, the heir of all the might, majesty and -dominion of the Lysles. The family physician intervened—the child must -positively have the mountain air. Also the Major’s liver trouble was -serious, he was sleeping badly and working too hard, and was in -desperate need of a change. Prompted by Aunt Nannie, the doctor said -this in Sylvia’s hearing—and settled the matter. - -It had been Frank’s idea to remain at Cambridge and study during the -summer, so as to make up some “conditions;” but when he learned that -Sylvia intended to remain at the Hall, he decided to stand the expense -of coming home. He arrived there to find that she had suddenly changed -her mind and was going—and offering but slight explanation of her -change. Sylvia was intensely humiliated because of the attitude of her -family, and was trying to spare Frank the pain of knowing about it. - -So came the beginning of unhappiness between them. Frank was acutely -conscious of his inferiority to her in all worldly ways. And he knew -that her relatives were trying to break down her resolution. He could -not believe that they would succeed; and yet, there was a bitter and -disillusioned man within him who could not believe that they would fail. -In his soul there were always thorns of doubt, which festered, and now -and then would cause him pangs of agony. But he was as proud as any -savage, and would have died before he would ask for mercy. When he -learned that she was going away from him, for no better reason than her -relatives’ objections, he felt that she did not care enough for him. And -then, when he did not protest, it was Sylvia’s turn to worry. So it -really did not matter to him whether she stayed or not! It might be that -Aunt Nannie was right after all, that a man ceased to love a woman who -gave herself too freely. - - - § 29 - -The matter was complicated by the episode of Beauregard Dabney, about -which I have to tell. - -You have heard, perhaps, of the Dabneys of Charleston; the names of -three of them—Beauregard’s grandfather and two great-uncles—may be read -upon the memorial tablets in the stately old church which is the city’s -pride. In Charleston they have a real aristocracy—gentlemen so poor that -they wear their cuffs all ragged, yet are received with homage in the -proudest homes in the South. The Dabneys had a city mansion with front -steps crumbling away, and a country house which would not keep out the -rain; and yet when Beauregard, the young scion of the house, fell prey -to the charm and animation of Harriet Atkinson, whose father’s street -railroad was equal to a mint, the family regarded it as the greatest -calamity since Appomattox. - -He had followed Harriet to Castleman County; and when the news got out, -a detachment of uncles and aunts came flying, and captured the poor boy, -and were on the point of shipping him home, when Harriet called Sylvia -to the rescue. Sylvia could impress even the Dabneys; and if only she -would have Beauregard and one of the aunts invited to Castleman Hall, it -might yet be possible to save the situation. - -Sylvia had met young Dabney once, when visiting in Charleston. She -remembered him as an effeminate-mannered youth, with what would have -been a doll-baby face but for the fact that the nose caved in in the -middle in a disturbing way. “Tell me, Harriet,” she asked, when she met -her friend—“are you in love with him?” - -“I don’t know,” said Harriet. “I’m afraid I’m not—at least, not very -much.” - -“But why do you want to marry a man you don’t love?” - -Harriet was driving, and she grasped the reins tightly and gave the -horse a flick with the whip. “Sunny,” she said, “you might as well face -the fact—I could never fall in love as you have. I don’t believe in it. -I wouldn’t want to. I’d never let myself trust a man that much.” - -“But then, why marry?” - -“I have to marry. What can I do? I’m tired of being chaperoned, and I -don’t want to be an old maid.” - -Sylvia pondered for a moment. “Suppose,” she said, “that you should -marry him, and then meet a man you loved?” - -“I’ve already answered that—it won’t happen. I’m too selfish.” She -paused, and then added, “It’s all right, Sunny. I’ve figured over it, -and I’m not making any mistake. He’s a good fellow, and I like him. He’s -a gentleman—he does not offend me. Also, he’s very much in love with me, -which is the best way; I’ll always be the boss in my own home. He’s -respected, and I’ll help out my poor struggling family if I marry him. -You know how it is, Sunny—I vowed I’d never be a climber, but it’s hard -to pull back when your people are eager for the heights. And then, too, -it’s always a temptation to want to go where you’re told you can’t go.” - -“Yes, I know that,” said Sylvia. “But that’s a joke, and marrying’s a -serious matter.” - -“It’s only that because we make it so,” retorted the other. “I find -myself bored to death, and here’s something that rouses my fighting -blood. They say I sha’n’t have him—and so I want him. I’m going to break -into that family, and then I’m going to shake the rats out of the hair -of some of those old maid aunts of his!” - -She laughed savagely and drove on for a while. “Sunny,” she resumed at -last, “you’re all right. You know it, but I tell you so anyway. You -never were a snob that I know—but I’m cynical enough to say that it’s -only because you are too proud. Can you imagine how you’d feel if -anybody tried to patronize you? Can you imagine how you’d feel if -everybody did it? I’m tired of it—don’t you see? And Beauregard is my -way of escape. I’m going to marry him if I possibly can; my mind is made -up to it. I’ve got the whole plan of campaign laid out—your part -included.” - -“What’s my part, Harriet?” - -“It’s very simple. I want you to let Beauregard fall in love with you.” - -“With _me_!” - -“Yes. I want you to give him the worst punishment you ever gave a man in -your life.” - -“But what’s that for?” - -“He’s in love with me—he wants me—and he’s too much of a coward to marry -me. And I want to see him suffer for it—as only you can make him. I want -you to take him and maul him, I want you to bray him and pound him in -your mortar, I want you to roll him and toss him about, to walk on him -and stamp on him, to beat him to a jelly and grind him to a powder! I -want you to keep it up till he’s thoroughly reduced—and then you can -turn him over to me.” - -“And then you will heal him?” inquired Sylvia—who had not been alarmed -by this bloodthirsty discourse. - -“Perhaps I will and perhaps I won’t,” said the other. “What is there in -the maxims of Lady Dee about a broken heart?” - -“The best way to catch a man,” quoted Sylvia, “is on the rebound!” - - - § 30 - -I don’t know how this adventure will seem to you. To me it was -atrocious; but Sylvia undertook it with a child’s delight. - -“I had on a white hat with pink roses,” she said, when she told me about -it; “and I could always do anything to a man when I had pink roses on. -Beauregard was waiting for Harriet to go driving when I first saw him; -she was upstairs, late on purpose. He said something about my looking -like a rose myself—he was the most obvious of human creatures. And when -he asked me to get in and sit by him, I said, ‘Harriet will be jealous.’ -Of course he was charmed at the idea of Harriet’s being jealous. So he -asked me to take a little drive with him, and we stayed out an hour—and -by the time we got back, I had him!” - -Two days later he was on his knees begging Sylvia to marry him. At -which, of course, she was horrified. “Why, you’re supposed to be in love -with my best friend!” - -He was frank about it, poor soul. “Of course, Miss Sylvia,” he -explained, “I was in love with Harriet; and Harriet’s a fine girl, all -right. It’s bad about her family, but I thought we could go away where -nobody knew her, and people would accept her as my wife, and they’d soon -forget. She’s jolly and interesting, and all that. But you understand, -surely, Miss Sylvia—no man would marry Harriet Atkinson if he could get -you. You—you’re quite different, Miss Sylvia. You’re one of us!” - -He made Sylvia furious by his matter-of-fact snobbery; and so she was -lovely to him. She told him that she, too, had been in love, but her -family was opposed to the man, and now she was very unhappy. She told -him that she was not worthy of the love of such a man as he. Poor -Beauregard tried his best to reassure her, and followed her about day -and night for ten days, and was a most dreadful nuisance. - -Each day she would report to Harriet the stage of infatuation to which -he had come; until at last Harriet’s thirst for blood was satisfied. -Then, dressed all in snow-white muslin and lace, Sylvia took her devoted -suitor off to a seat in a distant grape-arbor, and there administered -the dose she had prepared for him. “Mr. Dabney,” she said, “this joke -has got to be such a bore that I can’t stand it.” - -“What joke?” asked Beauregard, innocently. - -“You know that I have called myself a friend of Harriet Atkinson’s. When -you came to me and told me that you loved her, but wanted to marry me -because my family was better than hers—did it never occur to you how it -would strike her friend? Evidently not. Well, let me tell you then—I -could think that it was the stupidest joke I had ever heard, or else -that you were the most arrogant jack that ever walked on two legs. I -said that I would punish you—and I’ve been doing it. You must understand -that I never felt the least particle of interest in you; I never met a -man who’d be less apt to attract me, and I can’t see how you managed to -interest Harriet. I assure you you’ve no reason for holding the -extravagant opinion of yourself which you do.” - -The poor youth sat staring at her, unable to believe his ears. And so, -of course, Sylvia began to feel sorry for him. “I can see,” she said, -“that there might be something in you to like—if only you had the -courage to be yourself. But you’re so terrorized by your aunts and -uncles, you’ve let them make you into such a dreadful snob——” - -She paused. “You really think I am a snob?” he cried. - -“The worst I ever met. I couldn’t bring myself to discuss it with you. -Let me give you this one piece of advice, though; if you think you’re -too good to marry a girl, pray find it out before you tell her that you -love her. Of course, I’m not sorry that it happened this time, for you -won’t break Harriet’s heart, and she’s a thousand times too good for -you. So I’m not sorry that you’ve lost her.” - -“You—you think that I’ve lost her, Miss Sylvia?” gasped the other. - -“Lost her?” echoed Sylvia. “Why, you don’t mean—” But then she stopped. -She must not make it impossible for him to think of Harriet again. -“You’ve lost her, unless she’s a great deal more generous than I’d ever -be.” - -Beauregard took his drubbing very well. He persuaded Sylvia to discuss -his snobbery with him, and confessed the offence, and got up quite a -fire of indignation against his banded relatives. Also he admitted that -Harriet was too good for him, and that he had treated her like a cad. -His speeches grew shorter and his manner more anxious, and Sylvia could -see that his main thought was to get back and find out if he’d really -lost Harriet. - -So she called her friend up on the ’phone and announced, “He’s coming. -Get on your prettiest dress without delay!” And then Sylvia went away -and had a cry—first, because she had said such cruel things, and second, -because her mother and father would be unhappy when they learned that -Beauregard had escaped her. - -An hour later Harriet called up to say that it was all over. “Did you -accept him?” asked Sylvia. - -To which the other answered, “You may trust me now, Sunny! You have made -him into a soft dough, and I’ll knead him.” And sure enough, the new -Beauregard Dabney sent his aunts and uncles flying, and followed Harriet -to her summer home on the Gulf, and was hardly to be induced to wait for -a conventional wedding—so eager was he to prove to himself and to Sylvia -Castleman that he was really not a coward and a snob! - - - § 31 - -It was in the midst of these adventures that Frank Shirley made his -unexpected return from the North. On the day when he came to see her -first, she naturally forgot about the existence of Beauregard -Dabney—until Beauregard suddenly appeared and flew into a fit of -jealousy. Then the imp of mischievousness got hold of Sylvia; she found -herself wondering, “Would it be possible for Frank to be jealous of -Beauregard? And if he was, how would he behave?” - -“I knew it was dreadful then,” she told me, “but I couldn’t have helped -it if I’d been risking my life. I had to see what Frank would do when he -was jealous. I simply _had_ to! It was a kind of insanity!” - -So she tried it, and did not get much fun out of the experience. Frank -was like an Indian in captivity; he could not be made to cry out under -torture. He saw Beauregard’s position, and the unconcealed delight of -the family; but he set his lips together and never gave a sign. Sylvia -was going away for the summer, and Beauregard was talking about -following her. There would be other suitors following her, no doubt—and -new ones on the ground. Frank went home, and Sylvia did not hear from -him for several days. - -The Beauregard episode came to its appointed end, and then, in a letter -to Frank, Sylvia mentioned that she had accomplished her purpose—the -youth was engaged to Harriet. She thought this was explaining things. -But how could Frank imagine the complications of the art of -man-catching? Was Sylvia jesting with him, or trying to blind him, or -apologizing to him, or what? - -Sylvia kept putting off her start to the mountains—she could not bear to -go while things were in such a state between them. But, while she was -still hesitating, to her consternation she received a note from him -saying that he was starting for Colorado. He had received a telegram -that an aunt was dead; there were business matters to be attended -to—some property which for his sisters’ sake could not be neglected. It -was a cold, business-like note, with not a word of sorrow at parting; -and Sylvia shed tears over it. Such is the irrationality of those in -love, she had forgotten all about young Dabney or any other cause for -doubt and unhappiness she might have given Frank. She thought that he, -and he alone, had been unkind. And meantime, Frank had made up his mind -that she was repenting of her engagement, and that it was his duty to -make it easy for her to withdraw. - -So the two spent an unhappy summer. Sylvia let herself be taken about to -parties, but she grew more weary every hour of the social game. “I’ve -smiled until I’ve got the lockjaw,” she would say. She was losing weight -and growing pale, in spite of the mountain air. - -September came, and Harriet’s wedding was set for the next month, and -likewise Frank’s return to Harvard. He came back from the West, and -Sylvia wrote asking him to come and visit her for a week. But to her -consternation there came in reply a polite refusal from Frank. There was -so much that needed his attention on the plantation, and some studying -that must be done if he was to make good. For three days Sylvia -struggled with herself, the last stand of that barbarian pride of hers; -then she gave way completely and sent him a telegram: “Please come at -once.” - -She would have recalled it an hour afterwards, but it was too late; and -that evening she received an answer, to the effect that he would arrive -in the morning. She spent a sleepless night imagining his coming, and a -score of different ways in which she would meet him. She would throw -herself at his feet and beg him not to torture her; she would array -herself in her newest gown and fascinate him in the good old way; she -would climb once more upon the pinnacle of her pride and compel him to -humble himself before her. - -In the morning she drove to meet him, together with a cousin who had -come on the same train. She never stood a worse social ordeal than that -drive and the luncheon with the family. But at last they were alone -together, and sat gazing at each other with eyes full of bewilderment -and pain. - -“Sylvia,” said Frank, finally, “you do not look happy.” - -“Why should I be happy?” she asked. - -There was a pause. “Listen,” he said. “Can we not deal honestly with -each other—openly and sincerely, for once. Surely that is the best way, -Sylvia—no matter how much it hurts.” - -“I am ready to do it,” she replied. - -“You don’t have to spare my feelings,” he went on. “I know all you have -to contend with, and I sha’n’t blame you. The one thing I can’t bear is -to be played with, to be lured by false hopes, to drag on and on, -tormented by uncertainty.” - -She was gazing at him, bewildered. “Why do you say all that, Frank?” she -cried. - -“Why should I not say it?” he asked; and again they stared at each -other. - -Suddenly she broke out, in a voice full of anguish, “Frank, this is what -I want to know—answer me this! Do you love me?” - -“Do I love you?” he echoed. - -“Yes,”—and with greater intensity, “I want you to be honest about it!” - -“Honey!” he said, his voice trembling, “it’s the question of whether I’m -allowed to love you. It’s so terrible to me—I can’t stand the -uncertainty.” - -She cried again, “But do you _want_ to love me?” - -She heard his voice break, she saw the emotion that was shaking him, and -with a sudden sob she was in his arms. “Oh, Frank, Frank!” she -exclaimed. “What _have_ we been doing to each other?” - -And so at last the fog of misunderstanding was lifted. “Sweetheart,” he -exclaimed, “what could you have been thinking?” - -“I thought you had stopped loving me because I had been too bold, -because I had been unwomanly.” - -“Why, Sylvia, you must be mad! Have I not been hungry for your love?” - -“Oh, tell me that I can love you!” she wailed. “Tell me that you won’t -grow tired of me if I love you!” - -He clasped her in his arms and covered her lips with kisses; he soothed -her like a frightened child. She was free now to sob out her grief, to -tell him what she had felt throughout all these months of misery. “Oh, -why didn’t you come to me like this before?” she asked. - -“But, Sylvia,” he answered, “how could I know? I saw you letting another -man make love to you——” - -“But, Frank, that was only a joke!” - -“But how could I know that?” - -“How could you imagine anything else? That I could prefer Beauregard -Dabney to you!” - -“That’s easy to say,” he replied. “But there was your family—I knew what -they’d prefer, and I saw how they were struggling to keep us apart. And -what was I to think—why should you be giving him your time, unless you -wanted to let me know——” - -“Ah, don’t say that! Don’t say that!” she cried, quickly. “It’s wicked -that such a thing should have happened.” - -“We must learn to talk things out frankly,” he said. “For one thing you -must not let your family come between us again. You must free me from -this dreadful fear that they are going to take you from me.” - -And suddenly Sylvia blazed up. All the misunderstanding had come from -the opposition of her family, and her unwillingness to talk to Frank -about it. “I never saw it so clearly before,” she exclaimed. “Frank, I -can never make them see things my way. And they’ll always have this -dreadful power over me—because I love them so!” - -“What can you do then?” he asked. - -“I’m going to betray them to you!” she cried. And as he looked puzzled, -she went on, “I’m going to tell you about them! I’m going to tell you -everything they’ve said and done, and everything they may say and do in -the future!” - -“And that,” said Frank to me, “was the most loving thing she ever said!” -Such was the power, in Sylvia’s world, of the ideal of the Family! - - - - - BOOK II - _Sylvia Lingers_ - - - § 1 - -At the railroad station in Boston, on an afternoon in May, Sylvia -Castleman and Mrs. Tuis were arriving from New York. You must picture -Sylvia in a pale grey cloak, with a pale blue blouse; also a grey hat -with broad brim and “bluets” on top. You can imagine, perhaps, how her -colors shone from under it. She was meeting Frank for the first time in -eight months. - -The host of the occasion was Cousin Harley Chilton, now also a student -at Harvard. It was mid-afternoon, and he had borrowed a motor-car to -show her something of Cambridge. Their bags were sent to their hotel in -the city, and Frank took his place by Sylvia’s side. They had to talk -about commonplaces, but he could feel her delight and eagerness like an -electric radiance. As they flew over the long bridge, he wrapped a robe -about her. What a thrill went through him as he touched her! “Oh, I’m so -happy! so happy!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining into his. He had given -her a new name in his letters, and he whispered it now into her ear: -“Lady Sunshine! Lady Sunshine!” - -They came to a vista of dark stone buildings, buried in the foliage of -enormous elms. “Here are the grounds,” he said; and Sylvia cried, “Oh -Harley, go slowly. I want to see them.” Her cousin complied, and Frank -began pointing out the various buildings by name. - -But suddenly the car drew in by the curb and stopped. Harley leaned -forward, remarking, “Spark-plug loose, I think.” - -Now the sparking seemed to be all right, so far as Frank could judge, -but he did not know very much about automobiles. In general he was a -guileless nature, and did not understand that this was the beginning of -Sylvia’s social career at Harvard. But Sylvia, who knew about -automobiles, and still more about human nature, saw two men strolling in -her direction, and now about twenty yards away—upper-classmen, clad in -white flannel trousers, blue coats, huge straw hats like baskets, and -ties knotted with that elaborately studied carelessness which means that -the wearer has spent fifteen minutes before the mirror prior to emerging -from his room. - -Naturally Sylvia looked at them, for they were interesting figures; and -naturally they looked back, for Sylvia was an interesting figure too. -One could not hear, but could almost see them exclaiming: “By Jove! Who -is she?” They went by—almost, but not quite. They stopped, half turned -and stood hesitating. - -Harley looked up from his spark-plugs, a frown of annoyance on his face. -He glanced toward the two men. “Hello, Harmon,” he said. - -“Hello, Chilton,” was the reply. “Something wrong?” - -“Yes,” said Harley. “Can’t make it out.” - -The two approached, lifting their hats, the one who had spoken a trifle -in advance. “Can I help?” he asked, solicitously. - -“I think I can manage it,” answered Harley; but the men did not move on. -“Whose car?” asked the one called Harmon. - -“Bert Wilson’s,” said Harley. “I don’t know its tricks.” - -The other’s eyes swept the car, and of course rested on Sylvia, who was -in the seat nearest the curb. That made an awkward moment—as he intended -it should. “Mr. Harmon,” said Harley, “let me present you to my cousin, -Miss Castleman.” - -The man brightened instantly and made a bow. “I am delighted to meet -you, Miss Castleman,” he said, and introduced his companion. “You have -just arrived?” he inquired. - -“Yes,” said Sylvia. - -“But you’ve been here before?” - -“Never befo-ah,” said Sylvia; whereupon he knew from what part of the -world she had come. There began an animated conversation—Harley and his -spark-plugs being forgotten entirely. - -All this Frank watched, sitting back in his seat in silence. He knew -these men to be Seniors, high and mighty swells from the “Gold Coast;” -but he had never been introduced to them, and so he was technically as -much a stranger to them as if he had just arrived from the far South -himself. Sylvia, who was new to the social customs of Harvard, never -dreamed of this situation, and so left him to watch the comedy -undisturbed. - -There came along a couple of Freshmen; classmates of Harley’s and -members of his set. He was buried in his labors, but they were not to be -put off. “What’s the matter, old man?” they asked; and when he answered, -“Don’t know,” they stood, and waited for him to find out, stealing -meantime fascinated glances at the vision in the car. - -Next came two street-boys; and of course street-boys always stop and -stare when there is a car out of order. Then came an old gentleman, who -paused, smiling benevolently, as he might have paused to survey a -florist’s window. So there was Sylvia, quite by accident, and in perfect -innocence, holding a levee on the sidewalk, with two men whose ties -proclaimed them members of an ineffable and awe-inspiring “final” club -doing homage to her. - -“My cousin’s a Freshman,” she was saying. “So I’ll have three years more -to come here.” - -“Oh, but think of us!” exclaimed the basket-hats together. “We go out -next month!” - -“Can’t you manage to fail in your exams?” she inquired. “Or is that -impossible at Harvard?” She looked from one to another, and in the laugh -that followed even the street-boys and the benevolent old gentleman -joined. - -By that time the gathering was assuming the proportions of a scandal. -Men were coming from the “Yard” to see what was the matter. - -“Hello, Frank Shirley,” called a voice. “Anybody hurt?” And Sylvia -answered in a low voice, “Yes, several.” She looked straight into -Harmon’s eyes, and she got his answer—that she had not spoken too -rashly. - -The _séance_ came to a sudden end, because Harley realized that he was -subjecting club-men to an ordeal on the street. He straightened up from -his spark-plug. “I think she’s all right now,” he said—and to one of the -street-boys, “Crank her up, there.” - -“Where are you stopping?” asked Harmon. - -Harley named the hotel, but did not take the hint—which was presumptuous -in a Freshman. - -“Good-bye, Miss Castleman,” said the Senior, wistfully; and the crowd -parted and the car went on. - -After which Sylvia sank back in her seat and looked at Frank and -laughed. “Isn’t it wonderful,” she exclaimed, “what a woman can do with -her eyes!” - - - § 2 - -They returned to the hotel, where there were engagements—a whole world -waiting to be conquered. But Sylvia delivered an ultimatum; she would -pay no attention to anyone until she had an hour alone with Frank. When -Aunt Varina had meekly left her, she first flew into Frank’s arms and -permitted him to kiss her; and then, seated decorously in a separate -chair, she proceeded to explain to him the mystery of her presence -there. - -She had come to New York to buy clothes for herself and the rest of the -family; that much Frank had known. He had begged her to run up to -Cambridge, but the family had refused permission. Celeste was going to -have a house party, the baby had been having more convulsions—these were -only two of a dozen reasons why she must return. Frank had been -intending to go down to New York to see her—when suddenly had come a -telegram, saying that she would arrive the next afternoon. - -“It was my scheme,” she said, “and I expect you to be proud of me when -you hear it. If you scold me about it, Frank——!” She said this with the -tone of voice that she used when it was necessary to disarm some one. - -It was difficult for Frank to imagine himself objecting to any device -which had brought her there. “Go ahead, honey,” said he. - -“It has to do with Harley,” she explained. “Mother sent me one of his -letters, telling about the terrible time he’s been having here. You see, -he’s scared to death for fear he won’t make the ‘Dickey’—or that he -won’t be among the earlier tens. So they were all upset, and they’ve -been scurrying round getting letters of introduction for him, moving -heaven and earth to get him in with the right people. I read his letter, -and then suddenly the thought flashed over me, ‘There’s my chance!’ -Don’t you see?” - -“No,” said Frank, and shook his head—“I don’t see at all.” - -“Sometimes,” said the girl, “when I think about you, I get frightened, -because—if you knew how wicked I really am—! Well, anyhow, I sat down -and wrote to Harley that he was a goose, and that if he had sense enough -to get me to Harvard, he’d make the ‘Dickey,’ and one of the ‘final’ -clubs as well. I told him to write Aunt Nannie at once; and sure enough, -just about the time they got Harley’s letter, there came a telegram -saying I might come!” - -It was impossible for Frank not to laugh—if it were only because Sylvia -was so happy. “So,” he said, “you’ve come to be a social puller-in for -Harley!” - -“Now, Frank, don’t be horrid! I saw it this way—and it’s obvious -arithmetic: If I do this, I’ll see Frank part of every day for a couple -of weeks; if I don’t, I’ll only see him for a day when he comes to New -York. There’s only one trouble—you must promise not to mind.” - -“What is it?” - -“We must not tell anybody that we’re engaged. If people knew that, I -couldn’t do much with them.” - -“But I’ve told some people.” - -“Whom?” - -“Well, my room-mate.” - -“He’s not a club man, so that won’t matter. It doesn’t really matter, if -we simply don’t announce it. You must promise not to mind, Frank—be -good, and let me have my fun in my foolish way, and you sit by and -smile, as you did in the car.” - -Frank’s answer was that he expected to sit by and smile all his life; a -statement which led to a discussion between them, for Sylvia made -objection to his desire to shrink from the world, and declared that she -meant to fight for him, and manage him, and make something out of him. -When these discussions arose he would laugh, in his quiet, good-natured -way, and picture himself as a diplomat at St. James’, wearing -knee-breeches and winning new empires by means of the smiles of “Lady -Sunshine.” “But, you forget one thing,” he said—“that I came to Harvard -to learn something.” - -“When you go out into the world,” propounded Sylvia, “you’ll realize -that the things one knows aren’t half so important as the people one -knows.” - -Frank laughed. “That wouldn’t be such a bad motto for our Alma Mater,” -he said; then, thinking it over, “They might put it up as an -inscription, where Freshmen with social ambitions could learn it. A -motto for all college climbers—‘Not the things one knows, but the people -one knows!’” - -Sylvia was looking at him, a trifle worried. “Frank,” she said, “suppose -you go through life finding fault with everything in that fashion?” - -“I don’t know,” he replied. “But I shall always fight a wrong when I see -one. Wait till you’ve been here a while, and you’ll see about this!” - -“I ought to have come before,” she said; “I could have solved so many -problems for you. It’s the same everywhere in life—those who are out -rail at those who are in, but when you hear both sides, you see the -matter differently. I’ve a grudge against you, Frank—you misrepresented -things. You told me they had abolished the Fraternity system here, and I -didn’t know about the clubs, and so I permitted you to be a ‘goat.’” - -“They call it a ‘rough-neck’ here,” he corrected. - -“Well, a ‘rough-neck.’ Anyway, I let you take a back seat. And just as -if you didn’t have ability——” - -“Ability!” Frank exclaimed. Then, checking himself, he went on gently to -explain the social system he had found at Harvard. In the Southern -colleges, ability and good breeding might still get a poor man -recognition. But the clubs here were run by a little group of Boston and -New York society men, who had been kept in a “set” from the day they -were born. They went to kindergarten together, to dancing school -together—their sisters had private sewing circles, instead of those at -church. They had their semi-private dormitories on Auburn Street—one -might come with a string of automobiles and a stud of polo ponies, but -he would find that his money would not rent one of those places unless -the crowd had given its O. K. They roomed apart, they ate and drank -apart, and the men in their own class never even met them. - -Sylvia listened in bewilderment. “Surely, Frank,” she exclaimed, “there -must be some friendliness——” - -He smiled. “Just as I said, honey—you’re judging by the South. We’ve -snobbery enough there, God knows—but some of us are kind-hearted. You -can’t imagine things up here—how cold and formal people are. They have -their millions of dollars and the social position this gives them; they -are jealous of those who have more and suspicious of those who have -less—and they’ve been that way for so long that every plain human -feeling is dead in them. Take a man like Douglas van Tuiver, for -example. You’ve heard of him, I suppose?” - -“I’ve heard of the van Tuivers, of course.” - -“Well, Douglas is our bright particular social star just now. He’s -inherited from three estates already—the Lord only knows how many tens -of millions in his own right. He’s gone the ‘Gold Coast’ crowd one -better—has his own private house here in Cambridge, and an apartment in -Boston also, I’m told. He entered society there at the same time that he -entered college; and he doesn’t think much of our social life—except the -little set he’d already met in Boston and New York. He’s stiff and -serious as a chief justice—self-conscious, condescending——” - -“Do you know him?” asked Sylvia. - -“I never met him, of course; but I see him all the time, because he’s in -some of my sections.” - -“In some of your sections!” cried Sylvia. “And you never met him?” - -The other laughed. “You see, honey,” he said, “how little you are able -to imagine life at Harvard! Douglas, my dear, has been yachting with -English peers; he has Scotch earls for ancestors, and an accent that he -has acquired in their honor. He sets more store by them, I suppose, than -he does by his old Knickerbocker ancestors, who left him several farms -between Fifth and Madison Avenues.” - -“Is he a club man?” asked Sylvia. - -“He lives to set the social standards for our clubs; a sort of _arbiter -elegantiarum_. It’s one of the sayings they attribute to him, that he -came to Harvard because American university life was in need of ‘tone.’” - -“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Sylvia; and again, in a lower voice, “Oh, dear -me!” She pondered, and then with sudden interest inquired, “He’d be a -good man for Harley to meet, wouldn’t he?” - -“None better,” smiled Frank, “if he wants to make the ‘Dickey.’” - -“Then,” said Sylvia, “he’s the man I’d best go after.” - -The other laughed. “All right, honey. But you’ll find him hard to -interest, I warn you. His career has all been planned—he’s to marry -Dorothy Cortlandt, who’ll bring him ten or twenty millions more.” - -And Sylvia set her lips in a dangerous expression. “He can marry Dorothy -Cortlandt,” she said, “but not until I’ve got through with him!” - - - § 3 - -That evening was reserved for a performance of the “Glee Club;” and just -before dinner Harley came in, bubbling over with delight, to say that -Harmon had called up and invited him to bring his cousin and share his -box. - -And so behold Sylvia, clad in pale blue silk, with touches of gold -embroidery and a gold band across one shoulder, swimming like a new -planet into the ken of the watchers of these brilliantly lighted skies. -There were few acquaintances of “Bob” Harmon who did not come to the -door of the box to get a closer view of the phenomenon; while the -delighted cousin found himself besieged. Sedate upper-classmen put their -arms across his shoulders, tremendous club-men got him by the coat -sleeve in the lobby. “Let us in on that, Chilton!” “Now don’t be a hog, -old man!”—“You know me, Chilton!” Yes, Harley knew them all, and -calculated to keep knowing them for some time to come. - -The next morning he came early, and took Sylvia for a drive, to lay -before her the whole situation, and coach her for the part she was to -play; for this was the enemy’s country, and there were many pitfalls to -be avoided. - -It ought perhaps to be explained at the outset how it happened that Aunt -Nannie, whose time was spent in erecting monuments to Southern heroes, -had sent one of her sons to the headquarters of those who had slain -them. It had come about through the seductions of a young lady named -Edith Winthrop, whose father was building a railroad through half a -dozen of the Southern states. He had brought a private-train party upon -an inspection trip, and the Major and Harley, happening to be at the -capital, had met them at a luncheon given by the Governor. Everybody -knows, of course, that the Winthrops live in Boston; and everybody in -Boston knows of Mrs. Isabel Winthrop, that charming matron whose home -has been as the axle of the Hub for the past twenty years. At Cambridge -it was at first a scandal, and later a tradition, how the lovely lady -was strolling in the “Yard” one spring evening, and a group of Seniors -broke into the merry chorus of a popular musical-comedy air— - - “Isabella, Isabella, - Is a queen of good society! - Isabella, Isabella, - Is the dandy queen of Spain!” - -And now Harley had come to Cambridge to lay siege to the princess of -this line. They had invited him to tea, where he had felt himself an -obscure and humiliated Freshman. In his pride he had gone away, vowing -that he would not return until he had made the “Dickey,” and made it -without any social aid from the lady of his adoration. But, alas, Harley -had found this a task of undreamed-of difficulty. There were so many -Edith Winthrops in Boston, New York, Philadelphia and other centers of -good breeding; and there were so many obscure Freshmen trying to make -the “Dickey” in order to shine before them! - -“You can’t imagine how it is, Sylvia,” he said. “They don’t know us -here—we’re nobodies. I’ve met all the Southern men who amount to -anything, but it’s Eastern men who run the worth-while clubs. And it’s -almost impossible to meet them—I’d be ashamed to tell you how I’ve had -to toady.” - -“Harley!” exclaimed the girl. - -“I’ll tell you the facts,” he answered—“you’ll have to face them—just as -I did.” - -“But how could you stay?” - -He laughed. “I stayed,” he said, “because I wanted Edith.” - -He paused, then continued: “First I thought I’d try football; but you -see I haven’t weight enough—I only made the Freshman ‘scrub.’ I joined -the Shooting Club—and I certainly can shoot, you know; but that hasn’t -seemed to help very much. I went in for the Banjo Club, and I’ve worked -my fingers off, and I expect to make the Board, but I don’t think that -will be enough. You see, ability really doesn’t count at all.” - -“That’s what Frank said,” remarked Sylvia, sympathetically. “What is it -that counts? Learning?” - -“Rot—no!” exclaimed Harley. - -“Then what is it?” - -“It’s knowing the right people. But you can’t manage that here—it has to -be done before you get to college. The crowd doesn’t need you, they -don’t care what you think about them—and I tell you, they know how to -give you the cold shoulder!” - -Sylvia was indignant in spite of herself. “You, a Castleman!” she -exclaimed. “Why, your ancestors were governors of this place while -theirs were tavern-keepers and blacksmiths!” - -“I know,” said the other—“but it isn’t ancestors that count here—it’s -being on the ground and holding on to what you’ve got.” - -“They’re all rich men, I suppose?” - -“Perfectly rotten! You’re simply out of it from the start. I heard of a -man last year who spent fifty thousand dollars trying to make the -‘Dickey,’ and then only got in the seventh ten! You’ve no idea of the -lengths men go to; they pull every sort of wire, social and business and -financial and political—they bring on their fathers and brothers to help -them——” - -“And their cousins,” said Sylvia, and brought the discussion to an end -with a laugh. “Now come, Harley,” she said, after a pause. “Let’s get -down to business. You want me to meet the right men, and to make them -aware of the existence of my Freshman cousin. Have you got a list of the -men? Or am I to know by their ties?” - -Harley named and described several she would meet. Through them she -would, of course, meet others; she must feel her way step by step, being -guided by circumstances. There was another matter, which was delicate, -but must be broached. “I don’t want to seem like a cad,” said he, “but -you see, Frank Shirley isn’t a club man—he hasn’t tried to be—” - -“I understand,” said Sylvia, with a smile. - -“Of course, the fact that you come from his home town, that’s excuse -enough for his knowing you. But if you make it too conspicuous—that is—” - -Harley stopped. “It’s all right, Harley,” smiled Sylvia; “you may be -sure that Frank Shirley has too much of a sense of humor to want to get -in our way.” - -The other hesitated over the remark. It looked like deep water, and he -decided not to venture in. “It’s not only that,” he went on—“there’s -Frank’s crowd. They’re all outsiders, and one or two of them especially -are impossible.” - -“In what way?” - -“Well, there’s Jack Colton, Frank’s room-mate. He’s gone out of his way -to make himself obnoxious to everybody. He’s done it deliberately, and I -suppose he has his reasons for it. I only hope he has sense enough not -to want to ‘queer’ you.” - -“What’s he done?” - -“He’s a Western chap—from Wyoming, I think. Seems to have more money -than he knows how to spend decently. He insisted on smoking a pipe in -his Freshman year, and when they tried to haze him, he fought. He’s wild -as anything, they say—goes off on a spree every month or two—” - -“How does Frank come to be rooming with such a man?” asked Sylvia, in -surprise. - -“Met him traveling, I understand. They were in a train-wreck.” - -“Oh, that’s the man! But Frank didn’t tell me he was wild.” - -“Well,” said the other, “Frank would naturally stand up for him. I -suppose he’s trying to keep him straight.” - -There was a silence. Then suddenly Sylvia asked, “Harley, did you ever -meet Douglas van Tuiver?” - -“No!” replied Harley. “Why do you ask?” - -“Nothing—only I heard of him, and I was thinking perhaps he’d be a good -man to help you.” - -“Small doubt of that,” said the boy, with a laugh. “But it might be -difficult to meet him.” - -“Why?” - -“Well, he picks the people he meets. And he doesn’t come to public -affairs.” - -“Stop and think a minute. Is there nobody who might know him?” - -“Why—there’s Mrs. Winthrop.” - -“He goes there?” - -“They’re great chums, I understand. I could get her to invite you.” - -But Sylvia, after a moment’s thought, shook her head. “No,” she said, “I -think I’ll let him take me to her.” - -“By Jove!” laughed Harley. “That’s cool!” And then he asked, curiously, -“What makes you pick him out?” - -“I don’t know,” said Sylvia. “I find myself thinking about him. You see, -I meet men like Mr. Harmon and the others last night—they’re all -obvious. I’ve known them by the dozen before, and I can always tell what -they’ll say. But this man sounds as if he might be different. - -“Humph!” said Harley. “I wish you could get a chance! But I fear you’d -find him a difficult proposition. Girls must be forever throwing -themselves at his head—” - -“Yes,” said Sylvia. “But I wouldn’t make that mistake.” Then, after a -pause, she added, “I think it might be good for him, too. I might make a -man of him!” - - - § 4 - -There was a Senior named Thurlow, whom Sylvia had met at the “Glee Club” -affair, and who, after judicious approach through Harley and Aunt -Varina, had secured her promise to come to tea in his rooms. So she saw -one of the dormitories on Auburn Street, having such modern conveniences -as “buttons,” a squash court, and a white marble swimming pool—with a -lounging room at one end, and easy chairs from which to watch one’s -fellow mermen at play. - -Thurlow showed her about his own apartments, equipped with that kind -of simplicity that is so notoriously expensive. He showed her his -tennis cups and rowing trophies, talking most interestingly about the -wonderful modern art, the pulling of an oar—in which there are no less -than seventy errors a man can commit in the “catch,” and a -hundred-and-seventy in the “stroke.” Thurlow, it appeared, must have -committed several in last year’s race, for he had snapped his oar, and -only saved the day by jumping overboard, being picked up in a state of -collapse, and reported as drowned in the first newspaper extras. - -There came others of his set: Jackson, the coxswain of the crew, known -as “Little Billee,” a wizened up and drolly cynical personage; also -Bates, his room-mate, who was called “Tubby,” and was hard put to it -when the ladies asked him why, because he could not explain that he was -“a tub of guts.” The vats declared that he weighed two hundred and -twenty when he was in training for the fat man’s race; he had been -elected the official funny man of his class, and whenever he made a joke -he led off with a queer little cackle of high-pitched laughter, which -never failed to carry the company with him. There came Arlow Bynner, the -famous quarter-back, and Tom, his twin brother, so much like him that -when he had first come to college the Sophomores had dyed his hair. -There came Shackleford, millionaire man of fashion, who had been picked -for president of the new Senior Class, and who looked so immaculate that -Sylvia thought of magazine advertisements of leisure-class brands of -tobacco. - -There were six men in the room, and only two women—of which one was Aunt -Varina, the chaperone. You can imagine that it was an ordeal for the -other woman! It is easy enough for a girl to make out when she is -looking at memorial inscriptions and historic elm trees, at smoking -outfits and rowing sculls; but it’s another matter to be cornered by six -fastidious upper-classmen, their looks saying plainer than words: “We’ve -been hearing about you, but we’re from Missouri—now bring out your bag -of tricks!” - -Poor Sylvia—she began, as usual, by having a fright. She could think of -nothing to say to all these men. She chose this moment to recollect some -warnings which had been given by Harriet, before she left home, as to -the exactingness and blaséness of Northern college men; also some -half-ventured hints of her cousin, that possibly her arrows might be too -light in the shaft for the social heavyweights of this intellectual -center. She gazed from one to another in agony; she bit her tongue until -she tasted blood, scolding and exhorting herself like a football coach -driving a “scrub” team. - -It was “Bob” Harmon whose coming saved her. The very sight of him -brought her inspiration. She had managed him, had she not? Where was the -man she had ever failed to manage? She recollected how she had looked at -him, and what she had said to him in the auto; there came suddenly the -trumpet-call in her soul, in the far deeps of her the trampling and -trembling, the fluttering of banners and murmuring of voices—signs of -the arrival of that rescuing host which came to her always in -emergencies, and constituted the miracle of Sylvia. Her friend Harriet -Atkinson, herself no dullard in company, would sit by and watch the -phenomenon in awe. “Sunny,” she would say, “I can see it coming! I can -see it beginning to bubble! The light comes into your eyes, and I -whisper to myself, ‘Now, now! She’s going to make a killing!’” - -What is it—who can say? That awakening in the soul of man, that sense of -uplift, of new power arriving, of mastery conscious and exultant! To -some it is known as genius, and to others as God. To have possessed it -in some great crisis is to have made history; and most strange have been -the courses to which men have been lured by the dream of keeping it -continuously—to stand upon a pillar and be devoured by worms, to hide in -desert caves and lash one’s flesh to strips—or to wear tight stays and -high-heeled shoes, and venture into a den of Harvard club-men! - - - § 5 - -Half an hour or so later, when they were passing tea and cake, the flame -of her fun burned less brightly for a few minutes, and she had time to -remember a purpose which was stored away in the back of her mind. All -her faculties now became centered upon it; and those who wish may follow -the winding serpent of her cunning. - -She had been telling them about the negro boy who had bitten a piece out -of the baby. Thurlow remarked, “Yours must be an interesting part of the -world.” - -“We love it,” she said. “But you wouldn’t.” - -“Why not?” - -“You’d miss too many things you are used to. Our college boys have no -such luxury as this.” She looked about her. - -“You think this so very luxurious?” - -“I do indeed. I’m not sure that I think it’s good taste for young -fellows.” - -“But why not?” - -“It gets you out of touch with life,” replied Sylvia, with charming -gravity. (“Don’t play too long on one string!” had been a maxim of Lady -Dee.) “I think it’s demoralizing. This place might be a sanatorium -instead of a dormitory—if only you had elevators to take the invalids -upstairs.” - -Somebody remarked, “We have elevators in many of the dormitories.” - -“Is that really so?” asked Sylvia. “I don’t see how you can go beyond -that—unless some of you take to having private houses.” - -There was a laugh. “We’ve come to that, too,” said Bates. - -“What?” cried the girl. “Surely not!” - -“Douglas van Tuiver has a house,” replied Bates. - -“Surely you are jesting!” - -“No! I’ll show it to you, Miss Castleman.” - -“Who is Douglas van Tuiver?” - -The men glanced at one another. “Haven’t you ever heard of the van -Tuivers?” asked one. - -“Who are they?” countered Sylvia, who never lied when she could avoid -it. - -“They are one of our oldest families,” said Shackleford—who came from -New York. “Also one of the best known.” - -“Well,” said Sylvia, duly rebuked, “you see how very provincial I am.” - -“He’s a nephew of Mrs. Harold Cliveden,” ventured Harmon. - -“Cliveden?” repeated Sylvia. “I think I’ve heard that name.” She kept a -straight face—though the lady was the reigning queen of Newport, and a -theme of the society gossip of all American newspapers. Then, not to -embarrass her friends by too great ignorance, she hurried on, “But you -surely don’t mean that this man has a house all to himself?” - -“He has,” said Thurlow. - -“He has more than that,” said Jackson. “He has a castle in Scotland.” - -“I don’t mind castles so much. One can inherit them——” - -“No, he bought this one.” - -“Well, even so—castles are romantic and interesting. One might have a -dream of founding a family. But for a man to come to college and occupy -a whole house—what motive could he have but ostentation?” - -No one answered—though she waited for an answer. At last, with a grave -face, she pronounced the judgment, “I would expect to find such a man a -degenerate.” - -They were evidently shocked, but covered it by laughing. “Lord!” said -Bates, “I’d like to have van Tuiver hear that!” - -“Probably it would be good for him,” replied Sylvia, coldly. - -Everybody grinned. “Wish you’d tell him!” said the man. - -“I’d be delighted.” - -“Would you really?” - -“Why certainly.” - -“By Jove, I believe you’d do it!” declared Bates. - -“But why shouldn’t I do it?” - -“I don’t know. When people meet van Tuiver they sometimes lose their -nerve.” - -“Is he so very terrible?” - -“Well, he’s rather imposing.” - -Then Sylvia took a new line. “Of course,” she said, hesitatingly, “I -wouldn’t want to be irreverent——” - -“May I go and bring him here?” inquired Bates, eagerly. - -To which she replied, “Perhaps one owes more deference to Royalty. -Shouldn’t you take me to him?” - -“We’ll keep you on a throne of your own,” said Thurlow—“at least, while -you are here.” (It was quite as if he had been a Southern man.) - -But Bates was not to be diverted from his idea. “Won’t you let me go and -get him?” he inquired. - -“Does he visit in dormitories?” - -“Really, Miss Castleman, I’m not joking. Wouldn’t you like to meet him?” - -“Why should I?” - -“Because—we’d all like to see what would happen.” - -“From what you say about him,” remarked Sylvia, “he sounds to me like a -bore. Or at any rate, a young man who is in need of chastening.” - -“Exactly!” cried Bates. “And we’d like to see you attend to it!” - -The time had come, Sylvia thought, to play upon a new string. She looked -about her with a slightly _distrait_ air. “Don’t you think,” she -inquired, “that we are giving him too large a portion of this charming -afternoon?” - -The men appreciated the compliment; but the other theme still enticed -them. Said Jackson, “We can’t give up the idea of the chastening, Miss -Castleman.” - -“Of course, if you are afraid of him—” added Bates, slyly. - -There was a momentary flash in Sylvia’s eyes. But then she laughed—“You -can’t play a game like that on me!” - -“We would _so_ like,” said Jackson, “to see van Tuiver get a drubbing!” - -“Please, Miss Castleman!” added Harmon, “give him a drubbing!” - -But the girl only held out her white-gloved hands. “Look at these,” she -said, “how pure and spotless!” - -Said “Tubby”: “I hereby register a vow, I will never partake of food -again until you two have met!” - -Sylvia rose, looking bored. “I’m going to run away,” she said, “if you -don’t find something interesting to talk about.” And strolling towards a -cabinet, “Mr. Thurlow, come and introduce me to this charming little -Billikin!” - - - § 6 - -Sylvia had promised to go with Frank the next day to a luncheon in his -rooms. She found herself looking forward with relief to meeting his -“crowd.” “Oh, Frank,” she said, when they had set out together, “you’ve -no idea how glad I am to see you. I have such a craving for something -home-like. You can’t understand, perhaps——” - -“Perhaps I can,” said Frank, smiling. “I can’t say that I’ve been in -Boston society, but I’ve been on the outskirts.” - -“Frank,” she exclaimed, “you don’t ever worry about me, do you? Truly, -the more I see of other people, the more I love you. And all I want is -to be alone with you. I’m tired of the game. Everybody expects me to be -pert and saucy; and I can be it, you know——” - -She stopped, and he smiled. “Yes, I know.” - -“But since I’ve met you, I get sorry, sometimes even ashamed. You see -what you’ve done to me!” - -“What in the world have you been doing?” he asked. - -“Oh, some day I’ll tell you—don’t ask me now. It’s just that I’m tired -of society—I wasn’t cut out for the life.” - -“Why, it was only a few days ago that you were talking about bringing me -out!” - -“I know, Frank. I try to play the game, but deep down in my soul I hate -it. I’m successful now, but it’s the truth that in the beginning I never -took a step that I wasn’t driven. When I went into a ball-room, my teeth -would chatter with fright, and I’d want to hide in a corner. Aunt Nannie -would get hold of me, and take me into the dressing-room, and scold me -and stir me up. I can hear her now. ‘You! Sylvia Castleman, my niece, a -wallflower! Have you forgotten who you are?’ So then, of course, I’d -have to think of my ancestors and be worthy of them. She’d pinch my -cheeks until they were red, and wipe the wet corners of my eyes, and put -a fresh dab of powder on my nose, and stick in a strand of hair, and -twist a curl, and shift a bow of ribbon to the other shoulder—and then -out I’d go to be stared at.” - -“You’ve got the job pretty well in hand by now,” smiled Frank. - -“Yes, I know, but I don’t really like it—not with my real self. I’m -always thinking what fun it would be to be natural! I wonder what I’d -turn into! And whether you’d like me!” - -“I’d take my chances.” - -“Would you really, Frank? Just suppose I stopped dressing, for instance? -Suppose I never wore high heels and stiff collars? Suppose I dispensed -with my _modiste_, and you discovered that I had no figure.” - -“I’d take my chances,” he laughed again. - -“You look at me, and you like what you see. But you’ve no idea what a -work of art I am, nor how much I cost—thousands and thousands of -dollars! And so many people to watch me and scold me—so much work to be -done on me, day after day! Suppose my hair wasn’t curled, for instance! -Or suppose my nose were shiny!” - -“I don’t mind shiny so much, Sylvia——” - -“Ah! But if it was red! That’s what they’re always hammering into -me—whenever I forget my veil. Or look at these lovely soft hands of -mine—such beautiful nails. Do you realize that I have to keep them in -glycerine gloves all night—and ugh! how clammy and nasty they are when -it’s cold! And the time it takes to keep the nails polished!” - -“You see,” she went on, after a pause, “you don’t take my wickedness -seriously. But you should ask Harriet Atkinson about some of the things -we’ve done. She’ll come and say, ‘There’s a new man coming to-night. -Teach me a “spiel”!’ She’ll tell me all about him, where he comes from -and what he likes, and I’ll tell her what to say and what to pretend to -be. And I’ve done it myself—hundreds of times.” - -“Did you do it for me?” asked Frank, innocently. - -Sylvia paused. “I tried to,” she said. “Sometimes I did, but then again -I couldn’t.” She put her hand upon his arm, and he felt a pressure, -thrilling him with a swift delight. - -But they had come now to the dormitory, so her outburst had to end. She -took her hand from his arm, saying, “Frank, I don’t want you to kiss me -any more until we’re married. I’m going to stop doing everything that -makes me ashamed!” - - - § 7 - -Behold now a new “Lady Sunshine,” in a clean white apron which her hosts -had provided for the occasion, stirring mushrooms in cream and -superintending stewed chicken, while Frank washed salad in the bathroom, -and Jack Colton was half way up to his elbows in mayonnaise. This was -the first time that Sylvia had met Frank’s room-mate, with whom she had -intended to be very stern, because of his “wildness.” Although she was -used to wild boys, and had helped to tame a number of them, she did not -approve of such qualities in a companion of her lover. - -Jack, however, was a boy with what the Irish call “a way with him.” He -had curly brown hair and a winning countenance, and such a laugh that it -was not easy to disagree with him. Moreover a halo of romance hung about -him, owing to the fact that Frank had first met him after a railroad -wreck, sitting in the snow and holding in his lap a baby whose mother -had been killed. Jack had engaged a nurse and sent the child all the way -out to his own mother in Wyoming; and how could any girl object to a -friendship begun under such auspices? If his mother was indulgent and -sent him more pocket money than he could decently spend, might not one -regard that as the boy’s misfortune rather than his fault? - -There was Dennis Dulanty, a fair-haired young Irishman who wrote poems, -and was Sylvia’s slave from the first moment she entered the room. There -was Tom Firmin, a heavily built man with a huge head made bigger by -thick, black hair. Firmin was working his way through college and had no -time for luncheon parties, but he had come this once to meet Sylvia. The -girl listened to him with some awe, because Frank had said he had the -best mind in the class. Finally there was Jack’s married sister, who -lived in Boston, and was chaperone. - -There were four little tables with four chafing dishes, and two study -tables put together and covered with a spread of linen and silver. There -were strawberries which Dulanty had dropped upon the floor; there were -sandwiches which Tom Firmin had tried in vain to cut thin, and wine -about which Jack Colton talked far too wisely, for one so young. Jack -had been round the world, and had tasted the vintage of many countries, -and told such interesting adventures that one forgot one’s disapproval. - -Sylvia found herself happy here, and decided that Frank’s crowd was far -more interesting than Thurlow’s. All these men were outsiders, holding -themselves aloof from the social life of the University and resentful of -the conditions they had found there. After awhile it occurred to Sylvia -that it would be entertaining to hear what these men would have to say -upon a subject which had been occupying her mind; so, by a few deft -touches, she brought the conversation to a point where some one else was -moved to mention the name of Douglas van Tuiver. - -Immediately she discovered that she had touched a live wire. There was -Tom Firmin, frowning under his thick black eyebrows. “For my part, I -have just one thing to say: a man who has any pretense at self-respect -cannot even know him.” - -“Is he as bad as all that?” Sylvia asked. - -“It’s not a question of personality—it’s a question of the amount of his -wealth.” - -Sylvia would have appreciated this if it had been a jest. But apparently -the speaker was serious, and so she gazed at him in perplexity. “Is a -very rich man to have no friends?” she asked. - -“Never fear,” laughed Jack, “there are plenty of tuft-hunters who will -keep him company.” - -“But why should you sentence him to the company of tuft-hunters, just -because he happens to be born with a lot of money?” - -“It isn’t I that sentence him,” said Firmin—“it’s the nature of things.” - -“But,” exclaimed the girl, “I’ve had millionaires for friends—and I hope -I’m not the dreadful thing you say.” - -The other smiled for the first time. “Frank Shirley insists that there -are angels upon earth,” he said. “But if you don’t mind, Miss Castleman, -I’d prefer to illustrate this argument by every-day mortals like myself. -I’m willing to admit, as a theoretical proposition, that there might be -a disinterested friendship between a poor man and a multimillionaire; -but only if the poor man is a Diogenes and stays in his tub. I mean, if -he has no business affairs of any sort, and takes no part in social -life; if he never lets the multimillionaire take him automobiling or -invite him to dinner; if he has no marriageable sisters, and the -multimillionaire has none either. But all these, you must admit, make a -difficult collection of circumstances.” - -“Miss Castleman,” said Jack, “you can see why we call Tom Firmin our -Anarchist.” - -But Sylvia was not to be diverted. She had never heard such ideas as -this, and she wanted to understand them. “You must think hardly of human -nature!” she objected. - -“As I said before, it has nothing whatever to do with personality, it’s -the automatic effect of a huge sum of money. Take my own case, for -example—so I can talk brutally and not hurt anyone. I want to be a -lawyer, but meanwhile I have to earn my living. I love a girl, but I’ve -no hope of marrying, because I’m poor and she’s poor. If I struggle -along in the usual way, it’ll be five years—maybe ten years—before we -can marry. But here I am in college, and here’s Douglas van Tuiver; if -by any device of any sort I can manage to penetrate his consciousness—if -I can make him think me a wit or a scholar, a boon companion or a great -soul, the best halfback in college or an amusing old bull in the social -china shop—why, then right away things are easier for me. You’ve heard -what Thackeray said about walking down Piccadilly with a duke on each -arm? If I can walk across the Yard with Douglas van Tuiver, then a lot -of important men suddenly realize that I exist; the first thing you know -I make a club, and so when I come out of college I’m the chum of some of -the men who are running the country, and I have a salary of five -thousand a year at the start, and ten thousand in a year or two, a -hundred thousand before I’m forty, and a go at a rich marriage into the -bargain. Do you think there are many would-be lawyers to whom all that -would be no temptation? Let me tell you, it’s the temptation which has -turned many a man in this college into a boot-licker!” - -“But, Mr. Firmin!” cried Sylvia, in dismay. “What is your idea? Would -you forbid rich men coming to college?” - -To which the other replied, “I’d go much farther back than that, Miss -Castleman—I’d forbid rich men existing.” - -Sylvia was genuinely shocked. She had never heard such words even in -jest, and she thought Tom Firmin a terrifying person. “You see,” laughed -Jack, “he really _is_ an Anarchist!” And Sylvia believed him, and -resolved to remonstrate with Frank about having such friends. But -nevertheless she went out from that breakfast party with something new -to think about in connection with Douglas van Tuiver—and with her mind -made up that Mr. “Tubby” Bates would have to die of starvation! - - - § 8 - -That afternoon Sylvia was invited to one of the club teas. These were -very exclusive affairs, and Jackson, who asked her, mentioned that among -those who poured tea would be Mrs. Isabel Winthrop; also that Mrs. -Winthrop had expressed a particular desire to meet her. - -This would mark a new stage in Sylvia’s campaign for her cousin; but -quite apart from that, she was curious to meet this _belle ideal_ of -Auburn Street. Sylvia had listened attentively to what the denizens of -the “Gold Coast” had to say about “Queen Isabella,” and had found -herself rather awe-stricken. When one spoke of a favorite hostess in the -South, one gave her credit for tact, for charm, perhaps even for -brilliance. But apparently Mrs. Winthrop was the possessor of a much -more difficult and perplexing attribute—a rare and lofty soul. She was a -woman of real intellect, they said—she had written a book upon theories -of æsthetics, and had taken a degree in philosophy at the older -Cambridge across the seas. Such things were quite unknown in Southern -society, where a girl was rather taught to hide her superfluous -education, for fear of scaring the men away. - -So Sylvia found herself in a state of considerable apprehension. If it -had been a man, she would have taken her chances; when she had attended -Commencement at her State University, there were professors who would -call and talk about Assyrian bricks, and the relation between ions and -corpuscles—yet by listening closely, and putting in a deft touch now and -then to make them talk about themselves, Sylvia had managed to impress -them as an intellectual young lady. But now she had to deal with that -natural enemy of a woman—another woman. How was the ordeal to be faced? - -Lady Dee had handed down the formula: “When in difficulty, look the -person in the eyes, and remember who you are.” This was the counsel -which came to Sylvia’s rescue at the moment of the dread encounter. She -knew Mrs. Winthrop as soon as she caught sight of her; she looked a -woman of thirty-five—instead of forty-five, which she really was—tall -and slender, undoubtedly beautiful, undoubtedly proud, and yet with a -kind of _naïve_ sincerity. They met in the dressing-room by accident, -and the lady, recognizing Sylvia, took her hand and gazed into her face; -and Sylvia gazed back, with those wide, clear eyes of hers, steadily, -unflinching, without a motion or a sound. At last Mrs. Winthrop, putting -her other hand upon the girl’s, clasped it and whispered intensely, “We -met a thousand years ago!” - -Sylvia had no information as to any such event, and she had not expected -at all that kind of welcome. So she continued to gaze—steadily, -steadily. And the spell communicated itself to Mrs. Winthrop. “I heard -that you were lovely,” she murmured, in a strange, low voice, “but I -really had no idea! Sylvia Castleman, you are like a snow-storm of pear -blossoms! You are a Corot symphony of spring time!” - -Now Sylvia had seen some of Corot’s paintings, but she had not learned -to mix the metaphors of the arts, and so she had no idea what Mrs. -Winthrop meant. She contented herself with saying something about the -pleasure she felt at this meeting. - -But the other was not to be brought down to mundane speech. “Dryad!” she -murmured. She had a manner and voice all her own, sybilline, oracular; -you felt that she was speaking, not to you, but to some disembodied -spirit. It was very disconcerting at first. - -“You bring back lost youth to the world,” she said. “I want to talk to -you, Sylvia—to find out more about you. You aren’t vain, I know. You are -proud!” - -“Why—I’m not sure,” said Sylvia, at a loss for a moment. - -“Oh, don’t be vain!” said the lady. “Remember—I was like you once.” - -Which gave Sylvia an opportunity of the sort she understood. “I will -look forward,” she said, “to the prospect of being like you.” - -The radiant lady pressed her hand. “Very pretty, my child,” she said. -“Quite Southern, too! But I must take you in and give the others some of -this joy.” - -Such was the beginning of the acquaintance so utterly different from all -possible beginnings, as Sylvia had imagined them. She found in Edith -Winthrop, whom she met a few minutes later, a person much nearer to what -she had expected in the mother. Miss Edith had her mother’s beauty and -her mother’s pride, but no trace of her mother’s sybilline qualities. A -badly spoiled young lady, was Sylvia’s first verdict upon this New -England _belle_; a verdict which she delivered promptly to her -infatuated cousin, and which she never found occasion to revise. - -The friendship thus begun progressed rapidly. Mrs. Winthrop asked if she -might call, and coming the next day, discovered in Aunt Varina the -perfect type of the Southern gentlewoman. So the three were soon -absorbed in talking genealogy. At Miss Abercrombie’s Sylvia had been -surprised to learn that it was bad form to talk about one’s ancestors; -but apparently it was still permissible in Boston—as it assuredly was in -the South. - -Mrs. Winthrop invited Sylvia to a party she was giving; and when Sylvia -spoke of having to leave Boston, “Oh, stay,” said the great lady. “Come -and stay with me—always!” Finally Sylvia said that she would come to the -party. - -“I’ll invite your cousin for the extra man,” said the other. “It is to -be a new kind of party—you know how desperately one has to struggle to -keep one’s guests from being bored. I got this idea from a Southern man, -so perhaps it’s an old story to you—a ‘Progressive Love’ party?” - -“Oh, yes, we often have them,” replied Sylvia. She had not supposed that -these intellectual people would condescend to such play—having pictured -Boston society as occupied in translating Meredith and Henry James. - -“People have to be amused the world over,” said Mrs. Winthrop. And when -Sylvia looked surprised to have her thought read, the other gave her a -long look, and smiled a deep smile. “Sylvia,” she propounded, “you and I -understand each other. We are made of exactly the same material.” - - - § 9 - -There followed after this meeting a trying time for the girl. She went -to a theatre in the evening, and when she came back to the hotel she -found her aunt suffering acutely, with symptoms of appendicitis. -Although there was a doctor and a nurse, she spent the entire night and -half the next day by her aunt’s bedside. Sylvia’s love for her family -appeared at a time like this a sort of frenzy; she would have died a -thousand deaths to save them from suffering, and there was no getting -her to spare herself in any way. - -Her sympathy for Aunt Varina was the greater, because this poor little -lady was so patient and unselfish. Whenever there was anything the -matter with her, she would make no trouble for anyone, but crawl away -and endure by herself. She was one of those devoted souls, of which -there is one to be found in every big family, who do not have a life of -their own, but are ground up daily, as it were, to make oil to keep the -great machine running smoothly. Sylvia, who had in herself the making of -such a family lubricant, was irresistibly drawn to this gentle soul in -distress. - -All night she helped the nurse with hot “stoups;” and even when the -danger was passed she could not be persuaded to rest, but sat by the -bedside, applying various kinds of smelling salts and lavender water, -trying to be so cheerful that the patient would forget her pain. She -smoothed the white forehead, noticing as she did so how thin the gray -hairs were getting. She could look back to childhood days, when Aunt -Varina had been bright and young-looking—there were even pictures of her -as a girlish beauty; but now her neck was scrawny and her cheeks were -wan, and most of her hair lay upon her dressing-table. - -The day passed, and then Sylvia was reminded that she had promised to go -to a college entertainment with Harley. She ought to have gone to bed, -but she did not like to disappoint her cousin, so she drank a cup or two -of strong coffee, and was ready for anything that might come along. - -I used to say that I never knew a person who could _disappear_ so -rapidly as Sylvia; who could literally eat up the flesh off her bones by -nervous excitement. After a night and a day like this she was another -woman—that strange arresting creature who made men start when they saw -her, and set poets to dreaming about angels and stars. She wore a soft -white muslin dress and a hat with a white plume in it—not intending to -be ethereal, but because an instinct always guided her hand towards the -color that was right. - -The entertainment being not very interesting, and the hall being close, -after an hour or so she asked her cousin to take her out. It was a -perfect night, and she drank in the soft breeze and strolled along, -happy to watch the lights through the trees and to hear singing in the -distance. But suddenly she discovered that she had lost a medallion -which she had worn about her neck. “We must find it!” she exclaimed. -“It’s the one with the picture of Aunt Lady!” - -“Are you sure you had it?” - -“I remember perfectly having it in the hall. We’ll find it if we’re -quick. Hurry! I can’t, with these heels on my shoes.” So Harley started -back, and Sylvia began to walk slowly, looking on the sidewalk. - -Five or ten minutes passed thus; when, hearing steps behind her, she -glanced up, and saw a man attired in evening dress. There was a light -near by, shining into her face, and she saw that he looked at her; also, -with her woman’s intuition, she realized that he had been startled. - -He stopped. “Have you lost something?” he asked, hesitatingly. - -“Yes,” she said. - -“Could I be of any help?” - -“Thank you,” said Sylvia. “My cousin has gone back to look. He will be -here soon.” - -That was all. Sylvia resumed her search. But the man’s way was the same -as hers, and he did not go as fast as before. She was really worried -about her loss, and barely thought of him. His voice was that of a -gentleman, so his nearness did not disturb her. - -“Was it something valuable?” he asked, at last. - -“It was a medallion with a picture that I prize.” - -She stopped at a corner, uncertain of the street by which she and Harley -had come. He stopped also. “I would be very glad to help,” he said, “if -you would permit me.” - -“Thank you,” she said, “but I really think that my cousin will find it. -We had not come far.” - -Again there was a pause. As she went on, he was near her, looking -diligently. After a while she began to find the silence awkward, but she -did not like to send him away, and she did not like to speak again. So -it was with real relief that, looking down the street, she saw Harley -coming. “There’s my cousin!” she said. “Oh, I _do_ hope he’s found it.” - -“He doesn’t act as if he had,” remarked the other; and Sylvia’s heart -sank, for she saw that Harley walked slowly, and with his eyes on the -ground. - -When he was near enough she asked, “You haven’t found it?” - -“No,” he answered. “It’s gone, I fear.” - -“Oh, too bad! too bad! What can we do?” - -Harley had come near. Sylvia saw that he looked at the man she was with, -but there was no recognition between them. Evidently they did not know -each other. Then, without offering to stop, Harley passed them, saying, -“I’ll look back this way.” - -“I don’t think that’s worth while,” said the girl. “I’ve searched -carefully there.” - -“I’d better look,” replied the other, who had quickened his pace and was -already some distance off. - -“But wait, Harley!” she called. She wanted to explain to him how -thoroughly she had searched; and, more important yet, she wanted to get -decently rid of the stranger. - -But Harley went on, paying no attention to her. She called him again, -with some annoyance, but he did not stop, and in a moment more had -turned a corner. She was perplexed and angered by his conduct—more and -more so as she thought of it. How preposterous for him to brush past in -that fashion, and leave her with a man she did not know! “What in the -world can he mean?” she exclaimed. “There’s no need to search back there -any more!” - -She stood, staring into the half-darkness. When after a moment he did -not reappear, she repeated, helplessly, “What did he mean? What did he -mean?” - -She looked at her companion, and saw an amused smile upon his face. Her -eyes questioned him, and he said, “I suspect he saw you were with _me_.” - -For a moment Sylvia continued to stare at him. Then, realizing that here -was a serious matter, she looked down at the ground—something which the -search for the medallion gave her the pretext for doing. - -“He saw you were with _me_.” The more she pondered the words, the more -incredible they seemed to her. Taken as they had come, with the tone and -the accent and the smile, there was only one thing they could mean. A -week ago Sylvia would have been incapable of comprehending that meaning; -but now she had seen so much of social climbing that she had developed a -new sensitiveness. She understood—and yet she could not believe that she -understood. This man did not know Harley, but Harley knew him, and knew -him to be somebody of importance—of such importance that he had -deliberately gone on and left her standing there, so that she might pick -up an acquaintance with him on the street! And the man had watched the -little comedy, and knowing his own importance, was chuckling with -amusement. - -As the realization of this forced itself upon Sylvia, the blood mounted -to the very roots of her hair. She was seized by a perfect fury of shame -and indignation; it was all that she could do to keep from turning upon -the man and telling him what a cad and a puppy she thought him. But then -came a second thought—wasn’t it true, what he believed? What other -explanation could there be of Harley’s conduct? It was her cousin who -was the puppy and the cad; she wanted to run after him and tell him in -the man’s hearing. But then again her anger turned upon the stranger. If -he had been a gentleman, would he ever have let her know what he -thought? Would he have stood there now, grinning like a pot-boy? - -Sylvia finished her meditations, and lifted her eyes from the ground. -She was clear as to what she would do—she would punish this man, as -never in her life had she punished a man before. She would punish him, -even though to do it she had to walk on the proprieties with the sharp -heels of her white suede slippers. - -“I beg your pardon,” she said, gently. “I hope I don’t presume——” - -“What is it?” he asked, and she looked him over. He was a tall man, with -a pale, lean face, prominent features, and a large mouth which drooped -at the corners with heavy lines. He was evidently a serious person, -mature looking for a student. - -“Are you by any chance an instructor in the University?” she asked. - -“No, no,” he said, surprised. - -“But then—are you a public official of some sort?” - -“No,” he said, still more surprised. “Why should you think that?” - -“Well, my cousin seemed to know you, and yet not to know you. He seemed -willing to leave me with you, so I thought you might be—possibly a city -detective——” - -She saw him wince, and she feigned quick embarrassment. “I hope you’ll -excuse me!” she said. “You see, my position is difficult.” Then, with -one of her shining smiles, “Or have I perchance met Sir Galahad—or some -other comforter of distressed damsels—St. George, or Don Quixote?” - -When an outrage is offered to you by one of the loveliest beings that -you have ever beheld, with the face of a higher order of angels, and a -look straight into your eyes, so eloquent of simplicity and -trustfulness—what more can you do than to look uncomfortable? - -And Sylvia, of course, did not help him. She just continued to gaze and -smile. He got his breath and stammered, “Really—I think—if you will -permit me——” He paused, and then drew himself up. “I think that I had -best introduce myself.” - -“I am willing to accept the rebuke,” said Sylvia, “without putting you -to that trouble.” - -She saw that he did not even understand. He went on—his manner that of a -man laboring with a very serious purpose. “I really think that I should -introduce myself.” - -“Are we not having a pleasant time without it?” she countered. - -This, of course, was a complete blockade. He stood at a loss; and -meantime Sylvia waited, with every weapon ready and every sense alert. -“I beg pardon,” he said, at last, “but may I ask you something? I’ve a -feeling as if I had met you before.” - -“I am sure that you have not,” she said, promptly. - -“You are from the South, are you not? I have been in the South several -times.” - -But still she would not give an inch; and he became desperate. “Pardon -me,” he said, “if I tell you my name. I am Douglas van Tuiver.” - -Now if there was ever a moment in her life when Sylvia needed her social -training, it was then. He was looking into her face, watching for the -effect of his announcement. But he never saw so much as the flicker of -an eyelid. Sylvia said, quietly, “Thank you,” and waited to load her -batteries. She had meant harm to him before. Imagine what she meant now! - -“It is an unusual name,” she observed, casually. “German, I presume?” - -“Dutch,” said he. - -“Ah, Dutch. But then—you speak English perfectly.” - -“My ancestors,” he said, “came to this country in sixteen hundred and -forty.” - -“Ah!” exclaimed Sylvia. “How curious! Mine came the same year. Perhaps -that was where we met—in a previous incarnation.” Then, after a pause, -“Van Tuivel, did you say?” - -She could feel his start, and she waited breathlessly to see what he -would do. But there were the soft, red-brown eyes and the look of utter -innocence—how _could_ he gaze into them and doubt? “Van Tuiver,” he -said, gravely. “Douglas van Tuiver.” - -“Oh, I beg your pardon,” Sylvia responded. “Van Tuiver. I have it now.” - -She waited, feeling sure that he could not bear to leave it there. And -so it proved. “The name is well known in New York,” he remarked. - -“Ah,” she said, “but then—there are so _many_ people in New York!” - -Again there was a pause, while he took thought. Sylvia remarked, -helpfully, “In the South, you see, everybody knows everybody else.” - -“I am not at all sure,” said he, stiffly, “that I should find that a -desirable state of affairs.” - -“Neither should I,” said she—“in New York.” - -Now perhaps you think that this kind of thing is no particular strain -upon the nerves of a young girl; but Sylvia was seeking a way of escape. -Where was the villain Harley, and how much longer did he mean to keep -her on the rack? At this moment she saw a taxicab coming down the -street, and she recognized her chance. - -“Please call it!” she exclaimed. - -Instinctively her companion raised his hand. Equally instinctive was his -exclamation: “Are you going?” - -Her answer was her action; as the vehicle drew up by the curb, she -opened the door herself, and stepped in. “To Boston,” she said; and the -cab moved on. “Good-bye, Mr. van Tuiver,” she called to her surprised -companion. “Good-bye, until the next incarnation!” - - - § 10 - -News spread rapidly in Cambridge, Sylvia found. The next afternoon she -received a call from Mr. “Tubby” Bates, and one glimpse of his features -told her that he was moved by some compelling impulse. - -“May I sit down, Miss Castleman?” he asked. “I’ve something to ask you -about. But I’m not sure, Miss Castleman—that is—whether I’ve a right to -talk about it. You may think that I’m gossiping——” - -“Oh, but I adore gossiping,” put in the girl; whereat the other stopped -stammering and beamed with relief. He was more like a Southern man than -anyone Sylvia had met here; she knew just how to deal with him. - -“Thank you ever so much!” he exclaimed. “It’s really very good of you.” -He drew his chair an inch or two nearer, and in a confidential voice -began, “It’s about Douglas van Tuiver.” - -“Yes, I supposed so,” said Sylvia, with a smile. - -“Oh, then something _did_ happen!” - -“Now, Mr. Bates,” she laughed, “tell your story.” - -“This noon,” he said, “van Tuiver called me on the ’phone—or at least -his secretary did—and asked me if I’d lunch at the club. When we sat -down, there were two other chaps, both wondering what was up. Pretty -soon he got to a subject—” Bates stopped uneasily. “I’m afraid that -perhaps I won’t express myself in the right way, Miss Castleman—that I -may say something you don’t like——” - -“Go on,” smiled Sylvia. “I’m possessed by curiosity.” - -“Well, it came out that he’d had an adventure. He was walking last -evening, and he met a lady. She was tall and rather pale, he said—a -Southern girl. She was dressed in white and had golden hair. ‘Have any -of you met such a girl?’ he asked. I kept silent and let the rest do the -answering. They hadn’t. ‘It was a lady in distress,’ van Tuiver went on, -‘and I offered my assistance and she accepted’——” - -“Oh, I did _not_!” cried Sylvia. - -“Oho!” exclaimed Bates, “I knew it! Tell me, what did you do?” - -“This is your story,” she laughed. - -“Well, he said it was a novel rôle for him—that of Sir Galahad, or St. -George, or Don Quixote. He found it embarrassing. I said, ‘Was it the -novelty of the rôle—or perhaps the novelty of the lady?’ ‘Well,’ said -van Tuiver, ‘that’s just it. She was one of the most bewildering people -I ever met. She talked’—you won’t mind my telling this, Miss Castleman?” - -“Not a bit—go on.” - -“Some of it isn’t very complimentary——” - -“I’m wild with suspense, Mr. Bates!” - -“‘Well,’ he said, ‘she looked like a lady, but she talked like an -actress in a comedy. I never heard anybody rattle so—I never knew a girl -so pert. She talked just—_amazingly_.’ That was his word. I asked him -just what he meant, but that was all I could get him to say. Finally he -asked, ‘Do you know the lady?’ and of course I had to answer that I -thought I did; I could be sure if he’d give me a sample of her -conversation. ‘She has a cousin named Harley,’ he said, and I said, -‘Yes—he’s Chilton, a Freshman. Her name is Miss Castleman.’ Then he -wanted to know all about you. I said, ‘I met her at a tea at Thurlow’s, -and about all I know of her is that she talks amazingly.’ I thought that -was paying him back.” - -“And then?” laughed Sylvia. - -“Well, he wanted to know what I thought of you; and I said I thought you -were the loveliest, and the cleverest, and the sweetest person that I’d -ever met in my life. I really think that, you know. And then van Tuiver -said—” But here Bates stopped himself suddenly. “That’s all,” he said. - -“No, surely not, Mr. Bates!” - -“But really it is. You see, we were interrupted——” - -“But not until Mr. van Tuiver had said that he thought I was horrid, and -he thought I was shallow, and he thought I was vain.” - -The other flushed slightly. Sylvia went on, “I don’t mind it, because -the truth is, I’d been thinking it myself. You see, I really _was_ mean -to him, Mr. Bates. I said things to hurt him, without his knowing I -meant them; but after he went off, he must have understood. Why should -we want to hurt people?” - -“I don’t know,” said Tubby, bewildered by this unexpected new turn. He -wanted Sylvia to tell him the story of what had happened that evening; -but she refused. Then he went on to a new proposition—he wished to bring -van Tuiver to call. But she refused again and begged him not to think -about the matter any further. He pleaded with her, in semi-comic -distress; he was so anxious to see what would happen—everyone was -anxious to see what would happen! He implored her, in the name of good -society; it was cruel, wicked of her to refuse! But Sylvia was obdurate, -and in the end he took his departure lamenting, but vowing that he would -not give up. - -Just as he was leaving, Harley arrived. He came to get his scolding for -his conduct of the previous night. But the scolding was more serious -than he had expected. To his dismay Sylvia declared that she was sincere -in her refusal to meet van Tuiver again. - -“The truth is,” she said, “I’ve changed my mind about the whole matter. -I don’t care to have anything to do with the man.” - -“But why not?” asked Harley, in amazement. - -“Because—I don’t think that poor people like us have any right to. We -can’t meet him and keep our self-respect.” - -“Great God, girl! Aren’t we van Tuiver’s social equals.” - -“We think we are, but he doesn’t; and his view prevails. When you came -up here and fell in love with a girl in his set, you found that his view -prevailed. And look what you did last night! Don’t you see the -degradation—simply to be near such a man?” - -“That’s all very well,” objected Harley, “but can I keep van Tuiver from -coming to Harvard?” - -“No, you can’t; but you can help to keep him from having his way after -he has got here. You can stand out against him and all that he -represents.” - -There was a pause. Harley had nothing to say to that. Sylvia stood with -her brows knitted in thought. “I’ve made up my mind,” she said, “there’s -something very wrong about it all. The man has too much money. He has no -right to have so much—certainly not unless he’s earned it.” - -Whereat her cousin exclaimed, “For God’s sake, Sylvia, you talk like an -Anarchist!” - - - § 11 - -A couple of days later came Mrs. Winthrop’s “Progressive Love” party. At -this party there were twenty-four guests, twelve men and twelve women, -appearing in purple silk dominoes and golden silk masks supplied by the -hostess. Twelve short dances were followed by intermissions, during -which the guests retired to cosy corners, and the men made ardent love -to their unknown partners. “Tubby” Bates, of whom there was too much to -be concealed by any domino, was appointed door-keeper, and it was his -business to select the couples, so that each would have a new partner -for every dance. At the end, every person voted for the most successful -“lover” and also the worst, and there were prizes and “booby” prizes. - -Love-making, more or less disguised, being the principal occupation of -men and women in the South, Sylvia counted herself an expert at this -game. She had learned to assume a different personality, disguising her -voice, and doing it quite naturally—not by the crude method of putting a -button under her tongue. She took her seat after the first dance, -perfectly mistress of herself and pleasantly thrilled with curiosity. -All of the “younger set” at home had made love to her in earnest, and -their methods were an oft-told tale. But how would these strange men of -Harvard play the game? - -The tall domino at her side was in no hurry to begin. He sat very stiff -and straight upon the velvet cushions; and finally it came to Sylvia -that he was suffering from embarrassment. She leaned towards him, so as -to display “a more coming-on disposition.” “Sir,” she whispered, “faint -heart ne’er won fair lady.” - -The tall domino considered this in silence. “You’ll have to excuse me,” -he said, “I never played this game before.” - -“It is the most wonderful game in the world!” said Sylvia, fervently. - -“Perhaps,” was the reply. “To me it seems a very foolish game, and I -think it was poor taste on Mrs. Winthrop’s part.” - -“Dear me!” thought the girl, “what kind of a fish have I caught here?” -There was something strangely familiar about the voice, but she could -not place it. She had met so many men in the last week or two. - -“Sir,” she said, “I fear me that you lack a little of that holiday glee -which is necessary to such occasion as this. I would that I could sing a -song to cheer your moping spirit—” - - ‘Nymphs and shepherds come away, - For this is Flora’s holiday!’ - -Then, leaning a little nearer yet, “Come, sir, you must make an effort.” - -“What shall I do?” - -“You must manage to throw yourself into a state of rapture. You must -tell me that you adore me. You must say that my blue eyes make dim the -vault of heaven——” - -“But I can hardly see your eyes.” - -“You should not expect to see them. Have you not been told that Love is -blind?” - -So she tried to drive this tall domino to play; but it was sorry -frisking that he did. “You must fall down upon your knees before me,” -she said; but he protested that he could really not do that. And when -she insisted, “You must!” he got down, with such deliberation that the -girl was half convulsed with laughter. - -“Sir,” she chided, “that will not do. When you stop to ease each -trouser-knee, how can I believe that you are overcome with the ardor of -your feelings? You must get up and try again.” And actually she made him -get up and plump down suddenly upon his knees; and was so mischievous -and so merry about it that she got even him to laughing in the end. - -She was sure by this time that she had met the man before, and she found -herself running over the list of her acquaintances, trying to imagine -which one could be capable of making love in such a fashion. But she -could not think of one. She fell to studying the domino and the mask -before her, wondering what feelings could be behind them. Was it -timidity and lack of imagination? Or could it be that the man was sulky -and uncivil as he seemed? When the bell rang and she rose, she breathed -to herself the prayer that she might be spared running into another -“stick” like that. - -The next partner was Harmon, as she recognized before he had said a -dozen sentences. Harmon did not know her, but being in love, he knew how -to behave. He poured out to Sylvia all the things which she had known -for the past week he was longing to say to her; and Sylvia said in reply -everything which she had no intention of saying in reality. So the -episode passed pleasantly, and the girl thought somewhat better of Mrs. -Winthrop’s talents as a hostess. - -Number Three was again a tall domino. He seated himself, and there was a -long pause. “Well, sir,” said Sylvia, inquiringly. - -The domino delayed again. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said, at last; -“I never played this game before.” - -And Sylvia realized in a flash of dismay that it was the first man -again! The same voice—even the same words! “Sir,” she said, coldly, “you -are mistaken. You played the same game with me not twenty minutes ago.” - -The tall domino expressed bewilderment. “I beg your pardon—there has -been some mistake.” - -“There has indeed,” said Sylvia. “The door-keeper has evidently got our -numbers mixed.” She pondered for a moment. Should she go and tell Mr. -Bates? - -But she realized that it was too late. The couples were all settled and -the game proceeding. It was the kind of blunder that was always being -made at these parties—either because the door-keeper was stupid, or was -bribed by some man who wanted to make love in earnest. It spoiled the -game—but then, as Sylvia had just said, Love is blind. - -“What shall we do—wait?” she asked; to which the man replied, “I don’t -mind.” - -“Thank you,” she said, graciously. “We’ll have to make the best of it. -Don’t you think you can manage to do a little better than the last -time?” - -“I’ll try,” he replied. “It’s beastly stupid, I think.” - -Sylvia considered. “No,” she declared, “I believe it’s the game of all -games for you.” - -“How so?” - -“Go down into the deeps of you. Haven’t you something there that is -real—something primitive and untamed, that chafes against propriety, and -wishes it had not been born in Boston?” - -“I was not born in Boston,” said he. - -“Perhaps not in your body,” said Sylvia, “but your soul is a Boston -soul. And now think of this opportunity to fling loose, to be just as -bad as you want to be—and quite without danger of detection, of having -your reputation damaged! Surely, sir, there could be no game more -adapted to the New England conscience!” - -“By Jove!” exclaimed the man; and actually there was warmth in his tone. -Sylvia’s heart leaped, and she caught him by the hand. “Quick! Quick!” -she cried. “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may—old time is still a-flying!” - -“By Jove!” exclaimed the man again; and Sylvia, kindling with mischief, -pressed his hand more tightly and brought him upon his knees before her. -“Make haste! You have but one life—one chance to be yourself—to vent -your emotions! I’ve no idea who you are, I can’t possibly tell on -you—and so you may utter those things which you keep hidden even from -yourself!” - -“By Jove!” he exclaimed for the third time. “Really, if I had you to -make love to——” - -“But you have me! You have me! For several precious minutes—alone and -undisturbed! You are not a Boston Brahmin in a domino—you are a faun in -the forests of Arcady. Come, Mr. Faun!” And Sylvia began to sing in a -low, caressing manner: - - “Oh, come, my love, to Arcady! - A dream path leads us, dear. - One hour of love in Arcady - Is worth a lifetime here!” - -There was a pause. She could feel the man’s hand trembling. “I am -waiting!” she whispered; to which he answered, “I wish _you_ would talk! -You make love so much better than I!” - -Sylvia broke into one of her merry laughs. “A leap-year party!” she -cried. - -But the other was in earnest. “I like to listen to you,” he said. -“Please go on!” - -Sylvia was laughing so that she felt tears in her eyes, and she wanted -to wipe them away under her mask. Her handkerchief was gone, and she -looked for it—in her lap, beside her on the seat, and then on the floor. -This led to a curious and unexpected turn in the adventure—her -recognition of this New England faun. Seeing what she was doing, he -said, “I beg pardon. Have you lost something?” - -It was like an explosion in Sylvia’s mind. Not merely the same words—but -the same manner, the same accent, the same personality! - -The search for the handkerchief gave her the chance to recover her -breath. The Lord had delivered him into her hands again! - -“Sir,” she said. “I resume. You have overwhelmed me with the torrent of -your ardor. I feel myself swept away in a flood which my feeble will -cannot resist. You come to me like a royal wooer—like some god out of -the skies, stunning the senses of a mere mortal maiden! Who can this -be—I ask myself. From what source can such superhuman eloquence and -fervor spring? Can I endure it? I cry—or shall I be burned up and -destroyed, like Danaï in the legend? It is just so that he descends upon -me—like Jupiter, in a shower of gold!” - -Sylvia could feel the tall domino stiffen and rear himself. She had -meant to go on, but she stopped, so great was her curiosity. How would -he take it? - -At last came the voice from under the mask. “I see,” it said, “that you -have the advantage of me. You _do_ know who I am.” - -Sylvia was almost transported—by a combination of amazement and -amusement. “Know who you are?” she cried. “How could I fail to know who -you are? You, my divinity! You, to whom all the world bends the knee! -Sire, receive my homage—I bow in adoration before the Golden Calf!” - -And she sunk down upon one knee before the tall domino! - -It was putting herself into his hands. She was fully prepared to see him -rise and stalk away—but so possessed was she that she would have enjoyed -even that! Fortunately, however, at this moment the bell rang, saving -her. She sprang to her feet, and caught the hand of her divinity in one -quick clasp of parting. “Good-bye, Mr. van Tuiver!” she exclaimed. -“Good-bye—until the next incarnation!” - - - § 12 - -For the next dance Sylvia’s partner was a youth whom she could not -identify. He had evidently been reading the poets, for his declarations -of devotion were lacking in naught but rhyme. Sylvia accepted him -politely, hardly hearing his words—so busy was she with the thought of -van Tuiver. Had it been accident, or a trick? She would soon know. - -There came another dance—and again a tall domino. Sylvia suspected, but -was not sure, until they were in their seats, when the domino sat stiff -and straight, and she was certain. “Is that you?” she asked; and the -answer came, “It is.” - -“It is evident that some one is amusing himself at our expense,” said -Sylvia, coldly. “I really think we shall have to stop it.” - -“Miss Castleman,” broke in the other. “I hope you will believe me that I -have had absolutely nothing to do with this.” - -She answered, consolingly, “I assure you, Mr. van Tuiver, your -unpreparedness has been quite evident.” - -There was a pause, while he considered that. “What shall we do?” he -asked. - -“I think that you had best see Mr. Bates, and make clear to him that we -have had enough.” - -He hesitated. “Is—is that really necessary?” - -“What else can we do—spend the evening together?” - -“I really wish we could, Miss Castleman!” - -“What—and you making love as you have been?” - -“I can do better now. I really am quite charmed with the game. I’d like -to make love to you—for a long time.” - -“Most flattering, Mr. van Tuiver—but how about me? We’ve conversed a lot -already, and you haven’t said one interesting thing.” - -“Miss Castleman!” - -“Not one—excepting one or two that have been insolent.” - -There was a pause. “Really,” he pleaded, “that is a hard thing to say!” - -“Do you mean,” she inquired, coldly, “that you have not realized the -meaning of what you said to me when we met on the street?” - -“I don’t know just what you refer to,” he replied, “but you must admit -that you had me at a great disadvantage that evening.” - -“What disadvantage, Mr. van Tuiver? The fact that I did not know who you -were?” - -She could feel him wince. She was prepared for a retort—but not so -severe as the one which came. “The disadvantage,” he said, “that you -_pretended_ not to know who I was.” - -“Why,” she exclaimed, “what do you mean?” - -He answered. “If we are going to fight, it ought to be upon a fair -field. You pretended that evening that you had never heard my name. But -I learned since that only a day or two before you had had a quite -elaborate conversation about me.” - -Sylvia’s first impulse was to inquire sarcastically what right he had to -assume that his illustrious name would stay in her memory. But she -realized that that was a poor retort; and then her sense of fair play -came in. After all, he was right—the joke was on her, and she rather -admired his nerve. - -So she began to laugh. “Mr. van Tuiver,” she said, “you have annoyed me -so that I won’t even take the trouble to think up new lies to tell you. -Realize, if you can, the impression you managed to make upon a young -girl—you and your reputation together—that she should be moved to use -such weapons against you!” - -He forgot his anger at this. “That’s just it, Miss Castleman! I don’t -understand it at all! What have I done that you should take such an -attitude towards me?” - -Sylvia pondered. “I fear,” she said, “that you would not thank me for -telling you.” - -“You are mistaken!” he exclaimed. “I really would like to know.” - -“I could not bring myself to do it.” - -“But why not?” - -“I know it could not do any good.” - -“But how can you say that—when I assure you I am in earnest? I have a -very sincere admiration for you—truly. You are one of the most—one of -the most amazing young women I ever met. I don’t say that in a bad -sense, you understand——” - -“I understand,” said Sylvia, smiling. “I have tried my best to be -amazing.” - -“It is evident that you dislike me intensely,” he went on. “I ask you to -tell me why. What have I done?” - -“It isn’t so much what you have done—it is what you _are_.” - -“And what _am_ I, Miss Castleman?” - -“I don’t know just how to put it into words. You are some sort of -monstrosity; something that when I see it, fills me with a blind rage, -so that I want to fly at its throat. And then I realize that even in -attacking it I am putting myself upon a level with it—and so I want to -turn and flee for my life—or rather for my self-respect. I want to flee -from it, Mr. van Tuiver, and never see it, never hear its voice, never -even know of its existence! Do you see?” - -“I see,” said the man, in a voice so faint as to be hardly audible; and -then suddenly came the sound of the bell, and Sylvia sprang up. - -“I flee!” she said. - - - § 13 - -There came a new dance, the sixth, and a new partner, who was short, and -was speedily discovered to be Jackson. Then came the seventh dance, and -Sylvia expected that it would be her Faun again, but was disappointed. -It was a man unknown, and she wondered if Bates had lost his nerve. But -with Number Eight came the inevitable return. - -Van Tuiver was so anxious this time that he asked before he began to -dance, “Is that you?” And when Sylvia answered “Yes,” she could hear his -sigh of relief. All through the dance she could feel his excitement. -Once or twice he tried to talk, but she whispered to him to keep the -rules. - -The moment they were seated he said, “Miss Castleman, you must explain -to me what you mean.” - -“I knew I’d have to explain,” she responded. “I’ve been thinking how I -could make you understand. You see, I’m a comparative stranger to this -world of yours, and things might shock me which would seem to you quite -a matter of course. I suppose I’m what you’d call a country girl, and -have a provincial outlook.” - -“Please go on,” he said. - -“Well, Mr. van Tuiver, you have an enormous amount of money. Twenty or -thirty million dollars—forty or fifty million dollars—the authorities -don’t seem to agree about it. As well as I can put the matter, you have -so much that it has displaced _you_; it isn’t you who think, it isn’t -you who speak—it’s your money. You seem to be a sort of quivering, -uneasy consciousness of uncounted millions of dollars; and the only -thing that comes back to you from your surroundings is an echo of that -quivering consciousness.” - -“Do I really seem like that to you?” - -“It’s the impression you’ve made upon everyone who knows you.” - -“Oh, surely not!” he cried. - -“Quite literally that,” said Sylvia. “I hated you before I ever laid -eyes on you—because of the way you’d impressed your friends.” - -There was a pause; when van Tuiver spoke again it was in a low and -uncertain voice. “Miss Castleman,” he said, “has it ever occurred to you -to think what might be the difficulties of my situation?” - -“No, I haven’t had time for that.” - -“Well, take this one fact. You say that I have made a certain impression -upon everyone who knows me. But you are the first person in my whole -lifetime who’s ever told me.” - -Sylvia gave an exclamation of incredulity. - -“Don’t you see?” pressed on the other, eagerly. “What is a man to do? I -have a great deal of money. I can’t help that. And I can’t help the fact -that it gives me a great deal of power. I can’t help having a sense of -responsibility.” - -“The sense of responsibility has been too much for you,” said Sylvia. - -This was too subtle for him. He hurried on: “Maybe it’s right, maybe -it’s wrong—but circumstances have given me a certain position, and I -have to maintain it. I have certain duties which I must fulfill, which I -can’t possibly get away from.” - -There was a pause. He seemed to feel that the situation was not -satisfactory, and started again. “It’s all very well for you, who don’t -realize my position, the responsibilities I have—it’s all very well for -you to talk about my consciousness of money. But how can I get away from -it? People know about my money, they think about it—they expect certain -things of me. They put me in a certain position, whether I will or not.” - -He stopped again. He was so greatly agitated that Sylvia was beginning -to feel pity. “Do you have to be what people expect you to be?” she -said. - -“But,” he argued, “I have the money, and I have to make use of it—to -invest it—to protect it——” - -“Ah, but all that is in the business world. What I’m talking about is in -a separate sphere—your social relations.” - -“But, Miss Castleman, that’s just it—_is_ it separate? It ought to be, -you’ll say—but _is_ it? I tell you, you simply don’t know, that’s all. -People profess friendship for me, but they want something, and by and by -I find out what it is they want. You say that’s monstrous; I know, I -used to think it was, myself. You say, I ought not to know it; but I -can’t _help_ knowing it; it’s forced upon me by all the circumstances of -my life. Sometimes I think I’ve never had a disinterested friend since I -was born!” - -Sylvia perceived the intensity behind his words, and was silent for a -minute. “But surely,” she said, “here—in the democracy of college -life——” - -“It’s exactly the same here as anywhere else. Here are clubs, social -cabals, everybody pushing and intriguing, exactly as in New York -society. Take that fact you spoke of—that all the fellows dislike me, -and yet not one of them has dared to tell me so!” - -“_Dared?_” repeated Sylvia. - -“Oh, well, perhaps they dared—the point is, they didn’t. The ones who -had to make their own way were busy making it; and the others, who had -got in of right—well, they believe in money. They’d all shrug their -shoulders and say, ‘What’s the use of antagonizing such a man?’” - -“I see,” said Sylvia, fascinated. - -“Whatever the reason is, they never call me down—not a man of them. And -then, as for the women——” - -Sylvia had not made any sound, but somehow he felt her sudden interest. -He said, with signs of agitation, “Please, Miss Castleman, don’t be -offended. You asked me to talk about it.” - -“Go on,” she said. “I’m really most curious. I suppose all the women -want to marry you?” - -“It isn’t only that. They want anything. They just want to be seen with -me. Of course, when they start to make love to me—” He paused. - -“You stop them, I hope,” said Sylvia, modestly. - -“I do when I know it. But, you see——” - -He paused again; it was evidently a difficult topic. “Pray don’t mind,” -said Sylvia, laughing. “They’re subtle creatures, I know. Do many of -them make love to you?” - -“I know you’re laughing at me, Miss Castleman. But believe me, it’s no -joke. If you’d see some of the letters I get!” - -“Oh, they write you love letters?” - -“Not only love letters. I don’t mind them—but the letters from women in -distress, the most terrible stories you can imagine. Once I was foolish -enough—didn’t anybody tell you the scrape I got into?” - -“No.” - -“That’s curious—they generally like to tell it. I was weak enough to let -one woman get into my house in Cambridge. She had a tragedy to rehearse, -and I listened to her, and finally she wanted ten thousand dollars. I -didn’t know if her story was true, and I said No, and then she began to -scream for help. The servants came running, and she said—well, you can -imagine, how I’d insulted her, and all that. I told my man to throw her -out, but she said she’d scratch his eyes out, she’d scream from the -window, she’d stand on the street outside and denounce me till the -police came, she’d give the newspapers the whole story of the way I’d -abused her. And so finally I had to give her all the money I happened to -have on me.” - -“Great Heavens!” exclaimed Sylvia, who had not thought of anything so -serious as that. - -“You see how it is. For the most part I’ve escaped that kind of thing, -because I was taught. My Great-uncle Douglas, who died recently—he was -my guardian, and he taught me all about women when I was very young—not -more than ten. He had charge of my upbringing, and he wouldn’t allow a -woman in my household.” - -“Dear me,” said Sylvia, “what a cynic he must have been!” - -“He died a bachelor,” said the other, “and left me a great deal of -money. So you see—that is——” - -“He’d _had_ to be a cynic!” laughed the girl. And van Tuiver laughed -with her—more humanly than she had ever thought possible. - -She considered for a moment, and then suddenly asked, “Mr. van Tuiver, -has it never occurred to you that _I_ might be making love to you?” - -She could not see his face, but she knew that he was staring at her in -dismay. “Oh, surely not, Miss Castleman!” he exclaimed. - -“But how can you be sure?” she asked. “Where is your training?” - -“Miss Castleman,” he said, “please take me seriously.” - -“I’m quite serious. In fact, I think I ought to tell you, I _have_ been -making love to you.” - -“Surely not!” he said. - -“I mean it, quite literally. I’ve been doing it from the first moment I -met you—doing it in spite of all my resolutions to the contrary!” - -“But why?” - -“Well, because I hated you, and also because I pitied you. I said, I’ll -get him in my power and punish him—and at the same time teach him.” - -“Oh!” exclaimed van Tuiver; and she thought that she detected a note of -relief in the word. - -“You are glad I don’t mean to marry you,” she said; and when he started -to protest, she cut him short with, “You’re not applying the wisdom of -your great-uncle! I say I don’t want to marry you, but most likely -that’s a device to disarm you, to make you want to marry _me_.” - -In spite of his evident distress, she was incorrigible. “You ought to be -up and away,” she declared—“scared out of your wits. I tell you I’m the -most dangerous woman you’ve ever met. And I mean it literally. I’ll -wager that if your great-uncle had ever met my great-aunt, he would not -have died a bachelor! Take my advice, and fall ill and leave this party -at once.” - -“Why should I be afraid of you?” he demanded. “Why shouldn’t I marry you -if I want to?” - -“What! a poor girl like me?” - -“Well, I don’t know. I can afford to marry a poor girl if I feel like -it.” - -“But—think of the ignominy of being trapped!” - -He considered this. “I’m not afraid of that either,” he said. “If you’ve -had the wit to do it—and none of the others had——” - -“Oh!” she laughed. “Then you’re willing to be hunted!” - -“Miss Castleman,” he protested, “you are unkind. I’ve thought seriously. -You really are a most beautiful woman, and at the same time a most -amazingly clever woman. You would be an ornament in my life—I’d always -be proud of you—” - -He paused. “Mr. van Tuiver,” she demanded, “am I to understand that this -is a serious proposal?” - -She could feel his quiver of fear. “Why,” he stammered—“really——” - -“Don’t you see how dangerous it is!” she exclaimed. “You were almost -caught! Make your escape, Mr. van Tuiver!” - -And then came the sound of the bell. She started up. “Go and tell Mr. -Bates!” she cried. “Don’t let him do this again—if you do, you are lost -forever!” - - - § 14 - -The next partner was Harley. It was a nuisance having to entertain your -own cousin, but Sylvia amused herself by keeping Harley from recognizing -her. And in the meantime she was wondering what her Victim would do -next. - -She knew his very style of dancing by now, and needed to make no -inquiries of Number Ten. “You did not take my advice,” she remarked, -when they were seated. - -“No,” he said. “On the contrary, I told Bates to put us together the -rest of the time.” - -“Oh, no!” she protested. - -“I want to talk to you,” he declared. “I _must_ talk to you.” - -“But you had no right! He will tell, and everybody will be talking about -it.” - -“I don’t care if they do.” - -“But _I_ care, Mr. van Tuiver—you should not have taken such a liberty.” - -“Please, Miss Castleman,” he hurried on, “please listen to me. I’ve been -thinking about it, and it interests me keenly. I believe that in you I -might really have a friend—if only you would. A real friend, I -mean—who’d tell me the truth—who’d be absolutely disinterested——” - -The fun of it was too much for Sylvia. “Haven’t I explained to you that -I mightn’t be disinterested?” - -“I’ll trust you.” - -“Of course,” she went on, gravely. “I might give you my word of honor -that I wouldn’t marry you.” - -“Yes,” he agreed, “I suppose so——” - -The girl was convulsed with laughter. “Mr. van Tuiver,” she remarked, “I -see you are an earnest man; I really ought to stop teasing you. Don’t -you think I ought?” - -“Yes,” he replied, dubiously. “At least—I never liked to be teased -before.” - -“Well, I will tell you this for your comfort. There’s no remotest -possibility of my ever marrying you, so you can feel quite safe.” - -Somehow he did not seem sure whether he was pleased at this pledge. -After a pause he went on: “What I mean is that I think a man in my -position ought to have somebody to tell him the truth.” - -“Something like the court-jesters in old days,” said Sylvia. - -But he was not interested in mediæval customs. He was interested in his -own need, and she had to promise that she would admit him to the arcanum -of her friendship, and that she would always tell him exactly what she -thought about him—his actions, his ideas, even his manners. In -fulfilment of which promise she spent the rest of that _séance_, and the -two that followed, in listening to him talk about himself and his life. - -It was really most curious—an inside glimpse into a kind of life of -which one heard, but with no idea of ever encountering it; just as one -read of train-robbers and safe-blowers, but never expected to sit and -chat with them. Douglas van Tuiver had achieved notoriety before he had -cut a single tooth; his mother and father having been killed in a -railroad accident when he was two months old, the courts had appointed -trustees and guardians, and the newspapers had undertaken a kind of -unofficial supervision. The precious infant had been brought up by a -staff of tutors, with majordomos and lackeys in the background, and two -private detectives and a great-uncle and Mrs. Harold Cliveden to oversee -the whole. It did not need much questioning to get the details of this -life—the lonely palace on Fifth Avenue, the monumental “cottage” at -Newport, the “camp” in the Adirondacks, the yacht in the West Indies; -the costly toys, the “blooded” pets, the gold plate, the tedious, -suffocating solemnity. If Sylvia had been furious with van Tuiver -before, she was ready now to go to the opposite extreme and weep over -him. A child brought up wholly by employees, with no brothers and -sisters to kick and scratch him into decency, no cousins, no playmates -even—unless he was first togged out in an Eton suit and escorted by a -tutor to the birthday party of some other little togged-out aristocrat! - -Yes, assuredly this unhappy man needed someone to tell him the truth! -Sylvia resolved that she would fill the rôle. She would be quite unmoved -by his Royalty (the word by which she had come to sum up to herself the -whole phenomenon of van Tuiverness). She would persist in regarding him -as any other human being, saying to him what she felt like, pretending -to him, and even to herself, that he really was not Royalty at all! - -But alas, she soon found what a task she had undertaken! The last dance -had been danced, and amid much merriment the guests unmasked—and still -van Tuiver wanted to stay and talk to his one friend. He escorted her to -supper, in spite of the fact that Mrs. Winthrop had other arrangements -for him. And even if he had behaved himself, there was the tale which -“Tubby” Bates had been diligently spreading. The girl realized all at -once that she had achieved a new and startling kind of prominence; all -the guests, men and women, were watching her, whispering about her, -envying her. She felt a wicked thrill of triumph and pleasure. She, a -stranger, an obscure girl from the provinces, who would ordinarily have -been an object of suspicion and investigation—she had leaped at one -moment into supremacy! She had become the favorite of the King! - -Pretty soon came Harley, a-tremble with delight. “Gee whiz, old girl, -you sure have scored to-night! For God’s sake, how did you manage it?” -Sylvia felt herself hot with sudden shame. - -And then came Bates. She tried to scold him, but he would simply not -have it. “Now, Miss Castleman! Now, Miss Castleman!”—that was all he -would say. What it meant was: “It is all right for you to pretend, of -course; but you can’t persuade me that you are really angry!” - -“Please go away,” she said at last; but he wanted to tell her what -different people said, and would not be shaken off. While he was still -teasing, there swept past them a girl to whom Sylvia had not been -introduced—a solid-looking young Amazon with a freckled snub nose. She -gave Sylvia what appeared to be a haughty look, and Bates whispered, “Do -you know who that is? That’s Dorothy Cortlandt!—the girl van Tuiver is -to marry.” - -“Really!” exclaimed Sylvia, who was cross with all the world. “How did -her nose get broken?” - -And the other answered with a grin, “You ought to know—you did it!” And -so, as Sylvia could not help laughing, Bates counted himself forgiven. - -A little later came the encounter with Edith Winthrop. It was after -supper, and the two found themselves face to face. “What a charming -party it has been!” said Sylvia, and the other gave her what was meant -to be a freezing stare. It was so rude that Sylvia thought she must have -been misunderstood. “The party’s been a success,” she ventured. “Don’t -you think so?” - -“Ideas of success differ,” remarked the other, coldly, and turned her -back and began an animated conversation with someone else. - -“Dear me,” thought Sylvia, as she moved on, “What have I done?” She saw -in another part of the room her hostess talking to van Tuiver, and made -up her mind at once that she would find out if the beautiful -soul-friendship was shattered also. She moved over towards the two, -resisting an effort on the part of Harmon to draw her into a -_tête-à-tête_. - -“Mrs. Winthrop,” she said, “I’m so glad I stayed over.” - -“Queen Isabella” turned the mystical eyes upon her, one of the deep, -inscrutable gazes. Sylvia waited, knowing that it might mean anything -from reverie to murder. “My dear Sylvia,” she said at last, “you are -pale to-night.” - -This, in the presence of van Tuiver, probably meant war. “Am I?” asked -the girl. - -“Yes, my dear, don’t dissipate too much! Women of your type fade -quickly.” - -“What?” laughed the other, gaily. “With my red eyes and red hair? A -century could not extinguish me!” - -She passed on, and discovered that van Tuiver was following her. “You -aren’t going, are you, Miss Castleman?” he asked; and while he was -begging her to stay, Sylvia saw her hostess move across the room to -Dorothy Cortlandt. These two stood conversing earnestly, and one glance -was enough to tell Sylvia what they were conversing about. - -All this was a sore temptation, but Sylvia was in a virtuous mood. “Mr. -van Tuiver,” she said, “there is something I want to say to you. I’ve -thought it over, and made up my mind that it is impossible for me to be -the friend you want.” - -“Why, Miss Castleman!” he exclaimed, in distress. “What is the matter?” - -“I can’t explain——” - -“But what have I _done_?” - -“It’s nothing that you’ve done. It’s simply that I couldn’t stand the -world you live in. Oh, I’d be a dreadful woman if I stayed very long!” - -“Please, listen—” he implored. - -But she cut him short. “I am sorry to give you pain, but I have made up -my mind absolutely. There is no possible way I can help you. I am not -willing to see you again, and you must positively not ask it.” After -which speech she went to look for her cousin, leaving van Tuiver such a -picture of agitation that everyone in the room observed it. Could the -King’s nose be broken too? - - - § 15 - -The next morning came a note from van Tuiver. He was sure that Miss -Castleman must have reconsidered her cruel decision, and he begged her -to grant him one brief interview. Might he take her riding in his car -that morning? The bearer would wait for an answer. Sylvia replied that -her decision was unchanged and unchangeable—she was sorry to hurt his -feelings, but she must ask him to give up all thought of her. - -A couple of hours later came van Tuiver himself, and sent up his card -and with a line scribbled on it, “What have I done to anger you?” She -wrote back, “I am not angry, but I cannot see you.” After which an hour -more elapsed and there came a telephone-call from “Tubby” Bates, who -begged the honor of a few minutes talk. - -“I ought to refuse to speak to you again,” said Sylvia. But in the end -she gave way and told him he might call. - -He had come as an emissary, of course. The young millionaire was in a -dreadful state, he explained, being convinced that he had committed some -unmentionable offence. - -“I don’t care to talk about the matter,” said Sylvia. - -“But,” persisted Bates, “he declares that I got him into the -predicament, and now I’m honor-bound to get him out.” - -So she had to set to work to explain her point of view. Mr. Bates, who -himself owed no particular allegiance to Royalty, should be able to -understand; he must realize that her annoyance was not personal, but -was, so to speak, an affair of State. This had been her first experience -at Court, she said; and the atmosphere had proven bad for her—had made -her pale, and would soon turn her into a faded old woman. - -Evidently “Tubby” had heard that part of the story also; first he -grinned, and then in his rôle of diplomat set to work to smooth away her -objections. “You surely don’t mind a little thing like that,” he -pleaded. “Haven’t you any jealous ladies down South?” - -“If we are going to discuss this question, Mr. Bates, I must speak -frankly. Our hostesses are polite to their guests.” - -The other began suddenly to laugh. “Even when the guests steal?” - -“When they steal?” - -“Jewels!” exclaimed the other. “Bright, particular, conspicuous -jewels—crown-jewels, precious beyond replacing! Think, Miss Castleman, -you trust a guest, you admit him to your castle—and suddenly you find -that the great ruby of your diadem is gone!” - -“Is it that Mrs. Winthrop hopes to marry van Tuiver to her daughter?” -asked Sylvia, crossly. - -“Oh, no,” said Bates. “He is to marry Dorothy Cortlandt—that was -arranged when they were babies, and Mrs. Winthrop wouldn’t dream of -cutting in on it.” - -“But then, if I haven’t robbed Edith——” - -“My dear Miss Castleman,” said the other, “you’ve robbed Mrs. Winthrop -herself.” - -“But I don’t understand,” said the girl. - -“Please don’t _mis_understand,” said Bates. “It’s all perfectly proper -and noble, you know—and all that. I’ve nothing to say against Mrs. -Winthrop—she’s a charming woman, and has a right to be admired by -everybody. But being a queen, you see, she has to have a court, with a -lot of distinguished courtiers. She reads poetry to them, and they write -it to her, and they sit at her feet and dream wonderful dreams, and she -gazes at them. I know a dozen fellows who’ve been that way all through -college; and I suppose it does them good—they tell me I haven’t any soul -and can’t understand these things. What I’ve always said is, ‘Maybe -you’re right, and maybe I’m a brute, but it looks to me like the same -old game.’” - -“The same old game,” repeated Sylvia, wonderingly. She found herself -thinking suddenly of one of the maxims of Lady Dee—one which she had -been too young to understand, but had been made to learn nevertheless: -“The young girl’s deadliest enemy is the married flirt!” Could it be -that Mrs. Winthrop was anything so desperate as that? - -“Mr. van Tuiver is one of these poets?” she asked, finally. - -“I don’t think van Tuiver goes in for poetry; but he’s strong on manners -and things like that, and he says that Mrs. Winthrop is the only hostess -in America who has the old-world charm. Of course that ravished her, and -they’ve been great chums.” - -“And I came and spoiled it all!” exclaimed the girl. - -“You came and spoiled it all!” said Bates. - -Sylvia sat for a while in thought. “You know, Mr. Bates,” she remarked, -“it rather puzzles me that people consider Mr. van Tuiver as having -distinguished manners. I really haven’t been impressed that way.” - -The other laughed. “My dear Miss Castleman, don’t you know that van -Tuiver’s in love with you!” - -“No! Surely not!” - -“Perfectly head over heels in love with you. He’s been that way since -the first moment he laid eyes on you. And the way you’ve treated him—you -know you are rather high-handed. Anyhow, it’s rattled him so, he simply -doesn’t know whether he’s on his head or his feet.” - -“Did he tell you that, Mr. Bates?” - -“Not in words—but by everything about him. I never saw a man so changed. -Honestly, you don’t know him at all, as we’ve known him. You’d not -believe it if I described him.” - -“Tell me what you mean?” - -“Well, in the first place, he’s always dignified—stately, even. When he -speaks, it’s he speaking, and his Yea is Yea and his Nay is Nay. Then -he’s very precise—he never does anything upon impulse, but always -considers whether it’s the right thing for Douglas van Tuiver to do. You -see, he has an acute consciousness of his social task—I mean, being a -model to all the little people in the world. You wouldn’t understand his -manners unless you realized that they’re imported from England. In -England—have you ever been there?” - -“No,” said Sylvia. - -“Well, you’re walking along a country road, and you’re lost, and you see -a gentleman coming the other way. You stop and begin, ‘I beg pardon’—and -he goes by you with his eyes to the front, military fashion. You see, -you’re not supposed to exist.” - -“How perfectly dreadful!” - -“I remember once I was walking in the country, and there came a carriage -with two ladies in it. It stopped as I passed, and so I stopped. ‘Can -you tell me where such and such a house is?’ she asked, and I replied -that it was in such and such a direction. And then, without even a look, -she sank back in her cushions, and the coachman drove on. She was a -lady, and she thought it was a grand carelessness.” - -“Oh, but surely she must have belonged to the ‘_nouveaux riches_’!” -exclaimed Sylvia. - -“On the contrary, she may have had the best blood in England. You see, -that’s their system. They have a ruling caste, whose rudeness is their -religion.” - -“We have our family pride in the South,” said Sylvia, “but it’s supposed -to show itself in a superior courtesy. In fact, if a person’s rude to -his inferiors, we’re sure there must be plebeian blood somewhere.” - -“Exactly, Miss Castleman—that’s what I’ve always been taught.” There was -a pause; then suddenly Bates began to laugh. “They tell such a funny -story about van Tuiver,” he went on. “It was a club-tea, and there were -two ladies whom everybody knew to be social rivals. Van Tuiver was -talking to Mrs. A. and suddenly, without any warning, he walked over and -began to talk to Mrs. B. Afterwards somebody said to him, ‘Why did you -leave Mrs. A. and go directly to Mrs. B.? You know they hate each -other—did you want to make it worse?’ ‘No, I never thought of it,’ he -said. ‘The point was, there was a fireplace at my back, and I don’t like -a fireplace at my back.’ ‘But did you tell that to Mrs. A?’ asked the -friend. ‘No,’ said van Tuiver—‘I told it to Mrs. B.’” - -“Oh, dear me!” cried Sylvia. - -“And you must understand that he saw nothing funny in it. And the -significant thing is that he gets away with that pose!” - -“In other words, he has introduced the English system into America,” -said Sylvia. - -“That’s what it comes to, Miss Castleman.” - -“You have a king at Harvard!” - -The man hesitated, and then a smile spread over his face. “Of course you -realize,” he said, “that it’s a game we’re playing.” - -“A game?” she repeated. - -“Do you know they had a queen in New York, Miss Castleman—until she -died, just recently? You came to the city, you intrigued and pulled -wires, and perhaps she condescended to receive you—seated upon a regular -throne of state, painted and covered with jewels like a Hindoo idol. -Everybody agreed she was the queen, and nobody could go anywhere or do -anything unless she said so. Only, of course, ninety-nine people out of -a hundred paid no attention to her, and went ahead and lived their lives -just as if she weren’t queen. And it’s the same way here.” - -“Tubby” paused for encouragement; this was unusual eloquence for him. - -“As to our king,” he continued, “one-eighth of the college pays him -homage, and another eighth rebels against him—and the other -three-quarters don’t know that he’s here. They’re busy cramming for -exams, or training for the boat-race, or having a good time spending -papa’s money. In other words, Miss Castleman, van Tuiver is our king -when we are snobs; and some of us are snobs all the time, and others of -us only when we go calling on the ladies. Do you understand?” - -“I understand,” said Sylvia, intensely amused. “I suspect that you are -one of the rebellious subjects. You are certainly a frank ambassador, -Mr. Bates!” - -It was his turn to laugh. “The truth is, van Tuiver’s been three years -posing in a certain rôle, and he can’t turn round now and play a -different one for you. I thought it over as I was coming here, and I -said to myself, ‘I’ll ask her to see him, but I’ll be damned’—pardon me, -but that’s what I said—‘I’ll be damned if I’ll help him to deceive her.’ -You see, Miss Castleman—I hope I don’t presume—but I know van Tuiver’s -in love with you, and I thought—well—I——” - -The genial “Tubby” had turned several shades redder, and now he fell -silent. “You may feel quite at ease, Mr. Bates,” smiled Sylvia. “The -danger you fear does not exist at all.” - -“Not by any possibility, Miss Castleman?” - -“Not by any possibility, Mr. Bates.” - -“He—he has an enormous lot of money!” - -“After all our conversation! There are surely a few things in America -which are not for sale.” - -“Tubby” drew a deep breath of relief. “I was scared,” he said—“honest.” - -“How lovely of you!” said Sylvia. She suddenly felt like a mother to -this big fat boy who was said to have no soul. - -“I said to myself,” he continued, “‘I’ll tell her the truth about van -Tuiver, even if she never forgives me for it.’ You see, Miss Castleman, -I see the real man—as you’d never be allowed to, not in a thousand -years. And you must take my word and be careful, for van Tuiver’s a man -who has never had to do without anything in his whole lifetime. No -matter what it’s been that he’s wanted, he’s had it—always, _always_! -I’ve seen one or two times when it looked as if he mightn’t get it—and I -can tell you that he’s cunning, and that he persists and persists—he’s a -perfect demon when he’s got his mind fixed on something he wants and -hasn’t got.” - -“Dear me!” said Sylvia. “That _is_ a new view of him!” - -“Well, I said I’d warn you. I hope you don’t mind.” - -Sylvia smiled. “I thought you had set out to persuade me to see him -again!” - -Bates watched her. “I don’t know,” he said, “maybe mine was the best way -to persuade you.” - -“Why, how charming!” she exclaimed, with a laugh. “You are really -subtle.” - -“We want to fight the introduction of the English system, Miss -Castleman! I don’t mind an aristocracy, because I’m one of ’em; but I -don’t want any kings in America! It’s a patriotic duty to pull them off -their thrones and keep them off.” - -Sylvia pondered. It was a most entertaining view. “And the queens too?” -she laughed. - -“Yes, and the queens too!” - -There was a pause, while she thought. Then she said, “Yes, I think -you’re right, Mr. Bates. You may tell His Majesty that I’ll see him—once -more!” - - - § 16 - -Sylvia had said that she would go motoring with van Tuiver the following -afternoon. He came in a cab, explaining that he had been to dinner in -Cambridge, and that his car had run out of fuel. “I’ve a chauffeur who -is troubled with absent-mindedness,” he remarked, with what Sylvia soon -realized was enforced good-nature. For the car was longer in coming than -he expected, and when at last it arrived, she was given an exhibition of -his system of manners as applied to servants. - -The chauffeur tried to make some explanation. There had been an -accident, which he wanted to tell of; but the other would not give him a -chance. “I’ve not the least desire to listen to you,” he said. “I do not -employ you to make excuses. I told you when you came to me that I -required promptness from my servants. You have had your opportunity, and -you are not equal to it. You may consider yourself under notice.” - -“Very good, sir,” said the man; and Sylvia stepped into the car and sat -thinking, not hearing what van Tuiver said to her. - -It was not the words he had used; he had a right to give his chauffeur -notice, she told herself. It was his tone which had struck her like a -knife—a tone of insolence, of deliberate provocativeness. Yet he, -apparently, had no idea that she would notice it; doubtless he would -think it meant a lack of breeding in her to notice it. - -She wished to do justice to him; and she knew that it was partly her -Southern shrinking from the idea of white servants. She was used to -negroes, about whose feelings one did not bother. - -If Aunt Nannie discovered one of the chambermaids trying on her -mistress’ ball-gown, it would be, “Get out of here, you bob-tailed -monkey!” Or if Uncle Mandeville’s boy forgot to feed a favorite horse, -the rascal would be dragged out by one ear and soundly caned—and would -expect it, knowing that if it was never done the horse would never be -fed. But to talk so to a white man—and not in a blaze of anger, but with -cold and concentrated malevolence! - -The purpose of this ride was a definite one—that van Tuiver might find -out the meaning of Sylvia’s change of mind at the dance. He propounded -the question very soon; and the girl had to try to explain the state of -mind in which she found herself. She would begin, she said, with the -situation she had found at Harvard. Here were two groups of men, working -for different ends, one desiring democracy in college life, and the -other wishing to preserve the old spirit of caste. The conflict between -them had become intense, and Sylvia’s sympathies were with van Tuiver’s -opponents. - -“Tell me,” she said, “what has Harvard meant to you? What has it given -you that you couldn’t have got elsewhere? Here are men from all over -America, but you’ve only met one little set. All the others—whom you’re -probably too refined to call ‘rough-necks’—could none of them have -taught you anything?” - -“Perhaps they could,” he answered, “but it’s not easy to know them. If I -met people promiscuously, they’d presume upon the acquaintance. I’d have -no time to myself, no privacy——” - -He saw the scorn in Sylvia’s face. “That’s all very well,” he cried, -“but you simply don’t realize! Take your own case—do _you_ meet anybody -who comes along?” - -“I am a girl,” said Sylvia. “People seem to think it’s necessary to -protect girls. But even so, I remember experiences that you might profit -by. I went last year to our State University, where one of my cousins -was graduating. At one of the dances I was accidentally introduced to a -man, a decent fellow, whom I liked. ‘I won’t ask you to dance with me, -Miss Castleman,’ he said. I asked, ‘Why not?’ and he said, ‘I’m a -“goat”.’ I said, ‘I’ll dance with a goat, if he’s a good dancer,’ and so -we danced. And then came my cousin. ‘Sylvia, don’t you know who the man -is you were dancing with? He’s a “goat”!’ ‘I like him,’ I said, ‘and he -dances as well as any of you. I shall dance with him.’ ‘But, Miss -Castleman,’ they all said, ‘you’ll break up the fraternity system in the -college.’ ‘What strange fraternity!’ I answered. ‘I think it needs -breaking up. I’ll dance with him, and if anybody doesn’t like it, I -won’t dance with _him_.’ So I had my way.” - -“That’s all right,” said the other. “If a pretty girl chooses to have -her whim, everybody can allow for it. But if you set to work to run a -college on that basis, you’d abolish social life there. Men of a certain -class would simply not go where they had undesirable companionship -forced upon them. Is that what you want to bring about?” - -Sylvia thought for a moment, and then countered, “Is the only way you -can think of to avoid undesirable companionship to have a private -house?” - -“A house?” replied van Tuiver. “Lots of people live in houses. Doesn’t -your father?” - -“My father has a family,” said Sylvia. “You have no one but yourself—and -you don’t have the house because you need it, but simply for -ostentation.” - -He was very patient. “My dear Miss Castleman,” he said, “it happens that -I was raised in a house, and I’m used to it. And I happen to have the -money—why shouldn’t I spend it?” - -“You might spend it for the good of others.” - -“You mean in charity? Haven’t you learned that charity never does any -good?” - -“Sometimes I wish that I were a man, so that I could understand these -things,” exclaimed Sylvia. “But surely you might find some way of doing -good with your money, instead of only harm, as at present.” - -“Only harm, Miss Castleman?” - -“You are spending your money setting up false ideals in your college. -You are doing all in your power to make everyone who meets you, or sees -you, or even knows of you, a toady or else an Anarchist. And at the same -time you are killing the best things in the college.” - -“What, for instance?” - -“There is Memorial Hall—a building that stands for something. I can see -that, even if all my people were on the other side in the war. There you -find the democracy of the college, the spirit of real comradeship. But -did you ever eat a meal in Memorial Hall?” - -“No,” said he, “I never did.” - -Sylvia thought for a moment. “Do ladies eat there?” she asked; and when -he answered in the negative, she laughed. “Of course, that was only a -‘pretty girl’s whim’—as you call it. But if you, Douglas van Tuiver, -would go there, as a matter of course—right along, I mean——” - -“Eat at Memorial Hall!” he exclaimed. “My dear Miss Castleman, I -wouldn’t eat—I’d be eaten!” - -“In other words,” said she, coldly, “you admit that you can’t take care -of yourself as a man among men.” - -It was amusing to perceive his dismay over her idea. He came back to it, -after a minute. He wanted to know if that was the sort of thing he’d -have to do to win her regard; and he repeated the phrase with a sort of -fascinated horror. “Eat at Memorial Hall!” - -Until at last Sylvia declared with asperity, “Mr. van Tuiver, I don’t -care whether you eat at all, until you’ve found something better to do -with your life.” - - - § 17 - -He took these rages of hers very humbly. He was becoming extraordinarily -tame. “I suppose you find me exasperating,” he said, “but you must -realize that I’m trying my best to understand you. You want me to make -my life all over, and it isn’t easy for me to see the necessity of it. -What harm do I do here, just by keeping to myself?” - -Sylvia was touched by his tone, and she tried again to explain. “It -isn’t that you keep to yourself,” she said. “You cultivate a contempt -for your classmates, and they reply with hatred and envy, and so you -break up college life. It’s true, isn’t it, that there’s a struggle -going on now?” - -“The class elections, you mean?” - -“Yes, that’s what I mean. So much bitterness and intriguing, because you -keep to yourself! Why do you come to college at all? Surely you won’t -say it’s the professors and the studies!” - -“No,” said he, smiling in spite of himself. - -“You come, and you make yourself into a kind of idol. Excuse me, if it -isn’t polite, but what I said the other night is the truth—the Golden -Calf! And what I say is, try the other plan a while. Stop thinking about -yourself, and what they are thinking about you—above all, what they are -thinking about your money. They won’t all be thinking about your money.” - -He did not answer promptly. “Apparently,” she said, “you don’t feel -quite sure. If you can’t, I know several real men that I could introduce -you to—men right in your own class.” - -“Who are they?” - -She hesitated. She was about to say Frank Shirley, but concluded not to. -“I met one the other day—he doesn’t belong to a club, yet he’s the most -interesting person I’ve encountered here. He talked about you, and he -wasn’t complimentary; but if you sought him out in the right way, and -made it clear you weren’t trying to patronize him, I’m sure he’d be a -friend.” - -“What’s his name?” - -“Mr. Firmin.” - -“Oh!” said van Tuiver, and looked annoyed. - -“You know him?” - -“By sight. He has a bitter tongue.” - -“No more bitter than you need, Mr. van Tuiver—if you are going to hear -the truth about yourself.” - -The other hesitated. “I really do want to win your regard—” he began. - -“I don’t want you to do anything to win my regard! If you do these -things, it must be because you want to do them. At present you’re just -your money, your position—your Royalty, as I’ve come to call it. But I’m -not the least bit concerned about your Royalty; your houses and your -servants and your automobiles are a bore to me—worse than that, they’re -wicked, for no man has a right to spend so much money on himself, to -have a whole house to himself——.” - -“Please,” he pleaded, “stop scolding about my house. I couldn’t change -now, for it’s only a couple of weeks to Commencement.” - -“It would have all the more effect,” she declared, “if you moved into a -dormitory now. Here are the class elections, and your class split up——” - -“You don’t realize my position,” he interrupted. “It’s not merely a -question of what I want. There’s Ridgely Shackleford, our candidate for -class president; if I deserted him and went over to the ‘Yard,’ they’d -say I was a traitor, a coward—worse than that, they’d say I was a fool! -I wouldn’t have a friend left in the college.” - -“You really think it would be so bad?” - -“It would be worse. I haven’t told you half. When the story got about, -I’d become a booby in society; I’d have to give up my clubs, I’d be a -complete outcast. I tell you, you simply can’t break down the barriers -of your class.” - -Sylvia sat in silence, pondering his words. Suddenly she became aware -that he was gazing at her eagerly. “Miss Castleman,” he began, his voice -trembling slightly, “what I want above all else is your friendship. I’d -do anything to win it—I’d give up anything in the world. I have a regard -for you—a most intense admiration. If I knew it would make me mean -something to you—why then, I’d be willing to go to any extreme, to defy -everybody else. But suppose I do this, and I’m left all alone——” - -“If you did this you’d have new friends—real friends.” - -“But the friend I want is _you_!” - -Sylvia answered, “If you did what was right because it was right, if you -showed yourself willing to dare something for the sake of principle—why -then, right away you’d become worth while. You’d not have to ask for my -friendship.” - -He hesitated. “Suppose—suppose that I should find that I wanted _more_ -than friendship——” - -She had been prepared for that—and she stopped him instantly. -“Friendship comes first,” she said. - -“But,” he pleaded, “give me some idea. Could I not expect——” - -“You asked me to be a friend to you, to help you by telling you the -truth. That is what we have been discussing. Pray let there be no -mistake about it. Friendship comes first.” - -Why did Sylvia take such a course with him? You would have a false idea -of her character if you did not realize that it was the first time she -had ever done such a thing—and that it was a hard thing for her to do. -To refuse to let a man propose to her! To forbear to draw him on, to -investigate him, to see what he would reply to various baffling remarks! - -It was not because she was engaged to Frank Shirley. Under the code -which Lady Dee had taught her that made simply no difference whatever. -Under that code it was her duty to secure every man who came into her -reach; she might remain uncertain in her own mind, she might continue to -explore and experiment up to the very moment when the wedding ring was -slipped upon her finger. Sylvia had never forgotten Aunt Lady’s vivid -image: “Stand them up in a line, my child, and when you get ready, walk -down the line and pick the one you want!” - -She had set up a barrier before van Tuiver, and he pushed against it. -The more firm she made it, the more he was moved to push. But suppose -she gave way the least little bit, suppose he felt the barrier -breaking—then would he not stop pushing, would he not shrink away? What -fun to try him, to watch him hesitating, advancing and retreating, -trembling with desire and with terror! To analyze the mixture of his -longing and his caution, to add a little to the one or the other, and -then see the result. Sylvia with a new man was like a chemist’s -assistant, mixing strange liquids in a test-tube, possessed with a craze -to know whether the precipitate would be red or green or yellow—and -quite undeterred by the possibility of being blown through the skylight. - -But tempting as was the game, she could not play it with Douglas van -Tuiver. It was as if an angel stood between them with a flaming sword. -Douglas van Tuiver was no subject for joke, he was not a man as other -men—he was Royalty. With Royalty one must be stern and unfaltering. -“Friendship comes first,” she had said; and though before that ride was -over he had come again and again to the barrier, he never broke past it, -nor felt any sign of its yielding to his touch. - - - § 18 - -Sylvia was making her plans to leave in a couple of days. It was close -to Commencement, and she would have liked to stay, but there had come a -disturbing letter from home—the Major was not well, and there had been -an overflow, entailing serious damage to the crops and still more -serious cares. At such a time the family reached out blindly to -Sylvia—no matter what was going wrong, they were sure it would go right -if she were present. - -And besides, her work at Harvard was done. This was duly certified to by -Harley, who came to see her the next morning, in such a state of bliss -as is not often vouchsafed to Freshmen. “It’s all right, old girl,” he -said, “you can go whenever you get ready. You surely are a witch, -Sylvia!” - -“What has happened?” she asked. - -“I had a call from Douglas van Tuiver last night.” - -“You don’t mean it, Harley!” - -“Yes. Did you ask him to do it?” - -“I should think I did _not_!” - -“Well, whatever the reason was, he was as nice as could be. Said he was -interested in me, and that he’d back me for one of the earlier tens.” - -“How perfectly contemptible of him!” exclaimed Sylvia. - -Needless to say, this was a turn not expected by Harley. “See here,” he -protested, “it seems to me you’re taking a little too high a line with -van Tuiver. There’s really no need to go so far——” - -“Now please,” said Sylvia, “don’t concern yourself with that. I came up -here to help you, and I’ve done it, and that’s all you can ask.” - -“Oh, very well,” he said, and there was a sulky pause. Finally, however, -the sun of his delight broke through the clouds again. “Say, Sylvia!” he -exclaimed. “Do you know, the whole college is talking about what -happened at that dance. Tell me, honestly—did you know anything about -what they meant to do?” - -“I think that’s a question you’d know better than to ask, Harley.” - -“I was ready to knock a fellow down because he hinted it. But Bates is -square—he takes it all on himself. They say Mrs. Winthrop will never -forgive him.” - -Sylvia pondered. “Won’t it make Edith angry with you?” she asked. - -“I’ll keep away from her for a few days,” laughed Harley. “If I get my -social position established, she’ll get over her anger, never fear. By -the way, would you like to know what Edith thinks about you?” - -“Why—did she tell you?” - -“No, but there’s a chap in my class who knows her. He told me what she -said—only of course one can’t be sure.” - -“Tell me what it was,” said Sylvia, “and I’ll know if she said it.” - -“That you were shallow; that with the arts you used any woman could -snare a man. But she would scorn to use them.” - -“Yes,” laughed the other, “she said it.” - -“Are you really as bad as that?” asked Harley. “What arts does she -mean?” - -“This is a woman’s affair, Harley. What else did she say?” - -“She said her mother was disappointed in you. She thought you had a -beautiful soul, but you’d let it be spoiled by flattery. She said you -had no real understanding of a character like van Tuiver, or the -responsibilities of his position.” - -Sylvia said nothing, but sat considering the matter. She had no -philosophy about these affairs; she was following her instincts, and -sometimes she was assailed by doubts and troubled by new points of view. -She was surprised to realize how very revolutionary a standpoint she had -come to take in the matter of Mrs. Winthrop’s favorite. Why should she, -Sylvia Castleman, a descendant of Lady Lysle, be trying to pull down the -pillars of the social temple? - -That was still her mood when, after Harley’s departure, the telephone -rang and she found herself voice to voice with “Queen Isabella.” “Won’t -you come and have luncheon with me, Sylvia?” asked the latter. “I’ve -sent Edith away, so that we can be to ourselves. I want to have a long -talk with you.” And Sylvia, in a penitent state, answered that she would -come. - - - § 19 - -She chose for this visit one of her simplest costumes—a white muslin, -with pale green sprigs in it, and a pale green toque of a most -alluringly Quakerish effect. A poet had designed it for her—one of her -victims at the State University—and had specified that she must never -wear it without a prayer-book in her hand. In this costume she sat in -Mrs. Winthrop’s sombre paneled dining-room, with generations of sombre -Puritan governors staring down from the walls at her; while the strange -white servants stole noiselessly about on the velvet carpets, she gazed -with wide, innocent eyes, and listened to her hostess’ delicately-worded -sermon. - -Mrs. Winthrop appreciated the symbolism of the costume, and used it in -making a cautious approach to her subject. She said that Sylvia had -wonderful gifts of beauty—not merely of the person, but of taste and -understanding. Women so favored owed a great debt to life, and must -needs feel keenly the desire to make recompense for their privileges. -That, said Mrs. Winthrop, was something always present in her own -thoughts. How could she pay for her existence? It was fatally easy to -fall into the point of view of those who rebelled against social -conditions, and justified the discontent of the poor. “You know, we have -such people even in Boston,” she explained, “and they win a good deal of -sympathy. But there is a deeper and saner view, it seems to me. Life -must have its graces, its embellishments; there must be those who embody -a higher ideal than mere animal comfort. I think we should take our -stand there—we should justify ourselves, having the consciousness of a -mission in preserving the allurements and amenities of life. People talk -about the poor shop-girls, and how hard they have to work; they seem to -desire that one should give up one’s ease, one’s culture, and go and -join the shop-girls. But I say, No, I am not to be seduced by such -arguments. I am something in the lives of those shop-girls, something -definite, something vital; I am to them an uplifting vision, an ideal of -grace and dignity. When one goes among the lower classes and sees the -brutality, the sordid animalism of their lives—oh, it is terrifying! One -flies back to the world of refinement and serenity as to a city of -refuge.” - -Mrs. Winthrop paused. Her beautiful eyes had talked with her; they had -gazed terrified into social abysses, and now they came back to regions -of brooding calm. Sylvia was under their spell, and was not conscious of -any extravagance in the lady’s next utterance: “Speaking with a deep -conviction, I say that I am something necessary to life, that the world -could not get on without me. I say, I am Beauty, I am Art! Have you ever -felt that, Sylvia?” - -“I have thought a good deal about such things, Mrs. Winthrop. But as a -rule, I only manage to bewilder myself and make myself unhappy. There is -so much terrible suffering in the world!” - -“Yes,” said the other. “How many times I find myself asking, with tears -in my eyes, ‘How can you be happy, while all around you the world is -dying? Go, bow your head with shame, because you have been happy!’” And -sure enough, Mrs. Winthrop bowed her head, and two glistening, pearly -tears trickled slowly from her eyes. “It is a faith I have had to fight -for,” she continued, “something I feel most earnestly about. For we live -in times when, as it seems to me, civilization is threatened by the -terrible forces of materialism—by the blind greed of the masses -especially. And I think that we who have the task of keeping alive the -flame of beauty ought to be aware of our mission, and to support one -another.” - -Sylvia thought that this was the point of approach to the real subject; -but she said nothing, and Mrs. Winthrop veered off again. “I have always -been especially interested in University life,” she said. “My father was -a University professor, and I was brought up in a University town. After -I was married and found that I had leisure and opportunity, I said to -myself that it would be my task in life to do what I could to influence -young men during their student years, by teaching them generous ideals, -and above all by giving them a model of a dignified and gracious social -life. It is in these years, you see, that the tastes of young men are -formed; afterwards they go out to set an example to the rest of the -world. More than any university, I think, Harvard is our source of -culture and idealism; our crude Western colleges look to its graduates -for teachers, and to its standards for their models. So you see it is -really no little thing to feel that you are helping to guide and shape -the social life of Harvard.” - -“I can understand that,” said Sylvia, much impressed. - -“You come from another part of our country,” continued Mrs. Winthrop—“a -part which has its own lovely culture. Whether you have ever realized it -consciously or not, I am sure that ideas such as these must have been -often impressed upon you by your family.” - -“Yes,” said Sylvia, “my mother often talks of such things.” - -“I felt that, Sylvia, when I saw you. I said, ‘Here is an ally.’ You -see, I must have help from the young people—especially from the girls, -if I am to do anything with the men.” - -There was a solemn pause. “I hope I haven’t disappointed you too much,” -said Sylvia at last. - -Mrs. Winthrop fixed upon her one of those intense gazes. “I’ve been -perplexed,” she said. “You must understand, I can’t help hearing what’s -going on. People come to ask me for advice, and I must give it. And I’ve -felt that what I’ve learned made it really necessary for me to talk to -you. I hope that you won’t mind, or think that I’m presuming.” - -“My dear Mrs. Winthrop,” said Sylvia, “please don’t apologize. I am glad -to have your advice.” - -“I will speak frankly, then. As well as I can read the situation, you -seem to have taken offense at the social system we have at Harvard. Is -that true?” - -Sylvia thought. “Yes,” she said—“some parts of it have offended me.” - -“Can you explain, Sylvia?” - -“I don’t know that I can. It’s a thing that one feels. I have had a -sense of something cruel about it.” - -“Something cruel? But can’t one feel that about any social system? -Haven’t you classes at home? Don’t your people hold themselves above -some others?” - -“Yes, but I don’t think they are so hard about it—so deliberate, so -matter of fact.” - -“Ah,” said Mrs. Winthrop, “that is something I have often talked about -with Southern people. The reason is that in the South you have a social -class which is definitely separated by color, and which never thinks of -crossing the line. But in the North, my dear, our servants look like us, -and it’s not quite so simple drawing the line.” - -“Oh, but I’m not talking of servants, Mrs. Winthrop. I mean here, within -the boundaries of a college class. Your servants do not go to college.” - -The other laughed. “But they do,” she said. - -“Oh, surely not!” - -“It costs a hundred and fifty dollars a year to go to Harvard. Any man -can come, black or white, who can borrow the money. He may come, and -earn his living while he’s here by tending furnaces. As a matter of -fact, there’s a man in the class with Douglas van Tuiver whose father is -a butler.” - -“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed Sylvia. - -“A man,” said Mrs. Winthrop, “named Firmin.” - -Sylvia was aghast. “Tom Firmin!” - -“Yes. Have you heard of him before?” - -She answered in a faint voice, “Yes,” and then was silent. - -“You see, my dear,” said the other, gently, “why we are conscious of our -class lines in the North!” - - - § 20 - -Sylvia judged that it was about time for the cat to come out of the bag. -And now she observed him emerging—with a grave and stately tread, as -became a feline of New England traditions. Said Mrs. Winthrop: “I have -just had a talk with Douglas van Tuiver. Of course, you must know, -Sylvia, that he has conceived an intense admiration for you. And you -must know that when a man so intensely admires a woman, she has a great -influence upon him—an influence which she can use either for good or for -evil.” - -“Yes, Mrs. Winthrop,” said Sylvia. - -“I gather that his admiration for you is—is not entirely reciprocated, -Sylvia.” - -“Er—no,” said the girl, “not entirely.” - -“He has come to me in great distress. You have criticized him, and he -has felt your disapproval keenly. I won’t need to repeat what he said—no -doubt you understand. The point is that you have brought Douglas to a -state of distraction; he wants to please you, and he doesn’t know how to -do it. You have put ideas into his head—really, Sylvia, you will ruin -the man—you will utterly destroy him. I cannot but feel that you have -acted without fully realizing the gravity of the situation—the full -import of the demands you have made upon him.” - -“Really,” protested Sylvia, “I have made no demands upon him.” - -“Not formally, perhaps. But you must understand, the man is beside -himself, and he takes them as demands.” - -There was an awkward silence. “I have tried earnestly to avoid Mr. van -Tuiver,” said Sylvia. “I would prefer never to see him again.” - -“But that is not what I want. You can’t help seeing him—he is determined -to see _you_. My point is that your advice to him should take another -form—you should realize the peculiar position of a man like Douglas, the -immense responsibilities he carries, and which he cannot lay aside. If -you could sympathize with him——” - -There was again a pause. “I hope you won’t think it obstinate of me,” -said the girl, “but I know that I could never change my attitude—that -unless Mr. van Tuiver changed his way of life, he could never be a -friend of mine.” - -“But, Sylvia dear,” remonstrated the other, gently, “he has been a -friend of _mine_.” - -And so the real battle was on. There have been defences of the Divine -Right of Kings, composed by eminent and learned men; there have been -treatises composed upon the upbringing of statesmen and princes—from -Machiavelli and Castiglione on; Sylvia was ignorant of their very -existence, and so she was in no way a match for a scholarly person like -Mrs. Winthrop. But one thing she knew, and knew it with overwhelming -certainty, and repeated it with immovable obstinacy—she did not like van -Tuiver as he was, she could not tolerate him as he was. Mrs. Winthrop -argued and pleaded, apologized and philosophized, interpreting most -eloquently the privileges and immunities incidental to the possession of -fifty millions of dollars. But Sylvia did not like van Tuiver, she could -not tolerate van Tuiver. - -At last Mrs. Winthrop stopped, the edges of her temper somewhat frayed. -She gazed at Sylvia intently. “May I ask you one thing?” she said. - -“What is it?” inquired the girl. - -“Has Douglas asked you to marry him?” - -“No, he has not.” - -“Do you think that he will ask you?” - -“I really don’t know; but I can assure you that he will not if I can -prevent it.” - -There was a long pause, while the other weighed this utterance. -“Sylvia,” she said, at last, “he has a great deal of money.” - -“I have heard that fact mentioned,” responded the girl. - -“But have you realized, my dear, how _much_ money he has?” - -To which Sylvia answered, “We are not taught to think so deliberately -about money in the South.” - -Again there was a silence. She divined that Mrs. Winthrop was struggling -desperately to be noble. “Do I understand you to mean, Sylvia, that you -would really refuse to marry him if he asked you?” - -“I most certainly mean it,” was her reply—and it was given convincingly. - -The other drew a breath of relief. She had found the struggle -exhausting. “My dear child,” she said, “I appreciate your fineness of -character.” She paused. “But tell me this—if you do not intend to marry -Douglas, ought you to permit him to compromise himself for you?” - -“Compromise himself, Mrs. Winthrop? I don’t understand you.” - -“I mean, Sylvia, that he is exposing himself to the ridicule of his -friends—he is making a spectacle of himself to the whole University. And -then, after he has done this, you propose to cap the climax of his -humiliation by refusing to marry him!” - -Sylvia had so far been most decorous; but at this point her sense of fun -was too much for her, and merriment broke out upon her countenance. -“Mrs. Winthrop,” she declared, “there is but one way out—you must keep -Mr. van Tuiver from proposing to me!” - -The other’s pose became haughty and full of rebuke; but Sylvia was not -to be frightened. “See the dilemma I am in!” she exclaimed. “If I refuse -him, I humiliate him and compromise him. But if I marry him—what becomes -of my fineness of character?” She paused for a moment, then added, “You -must do this, Mrs. Winthrop; you must take the responsibility of -forbidding me to see him again. You must make it so emphatic that I’ll -simply have to obey you.” - -“Queen Isabella’s” feelings were approaching a state of turmoil; but the -girl urged her proposition seriously, finding a quite devilish amusement -in plaguing her hostess with it. The other protested that she would not, -she could not, she _dared_ not take the responsibility of interfering -with Mr. van Tuiver’s love affairs; and all without having the least -idea of the abysses of malice which were hidden within the circumference -of the pale green Quaker bonnet in front of her! - - - § 21 - -Frank Shirley came to call that afternoon, and revealed the fact that -the gossip had reached even him. “Sylvia, you witch,” he exclaimed, and -pinched her ear—“what in the world have you been doing to Douglas van -Tuiver?” - -She caught his hand and held it in both hers. “What has happened, -Frank?” - -“A miracle, my dear—simply a miracle! Van Tuiver has been to call on Tom -Firmin!” - -“Oh, how interesting!” cried Sylvia. “How was he received?” - -“Tell me first—did you suggest it to him?” - -“I’m a woman—my curiosity is much less endurable than yours. Tell me -instantly.” - -“Oh, he came—very much subdued and ill at ease. Said he’d realized the -split in the class, and how very unfortunate it was, and he wanted to -help mend matters.” - -“What did Mr. Firmin say?” - -“He asked why van Tuiver had begun with him. ‘Because I’d heard you -didn’t like me,’ said van Tuiver, ‘and I wanted to try to put matters on -a better footing. I’d like to be a friend of yours if I might.’ Tom—you -know him—said that friendship wasn’t to be had for the asking—he’d have -to look van Tuiver over and see how he panned out. First of all, they -must understand each other on one point—that he, Tom, wouldn’t be -patronized, and that anybody who tried it would be ordered out.” Frank -paused, and laughed his slow, good-natured laugh. “Poor van Tuiver!” he -said. “I feel sorry for him. Imagine him having to say he’d be willing -to take the risk! It’s about the funniest thing I ever heard of. What I -want to know is, is it true that you did it?” - -“Would you be very angry if I said ‘Yes’?” - -“Why, no,” he answered—“only I suppose you know you’re getting a lot of -publicity?” - -Sylvia paused for a while. “I suppose it was a mistake all through,” she -said, “but I was ignorant when I started, and since then I’ve been -dragged along. Mr. van Tuiver has kept at me to tell him why I didn’t -like him—and I’ve told him, that’s about all. I thought that your friend -Mr. Firmin was one who’d do the same.” - -“He’s that, all right,” laughed Frank. - -There was a pause, then suddenly Sylvia exclaimed, “By the way, there’s -something I meant to ask you. Is it true that Mr. Firmin’s father is a -butler?” - -“It is, Sylvia.” - -“And did you know that when you introduced him to me?” - -It was Frank’s turn to counter. “Would you be very angry if I said I -did?” - -“Why—not angry, Frank. But you must realize that it was a new -experience.” - -“Did you find him ill-bred?” - -“Why, no—not that; but——” - -“I thought you might as well see all sides of college life. I knew you’d -meet the club-men. And there’s a particular reason why you’ll have to be -nice to Tom—he wants to make me president of the class just now.” - -“President of the class!” - -“Yes. Politics, you see!” - -“But,” she exclaimed, “why haven’t you told me about it?” - -“I didn’t know until yesterday. Things have been shaping themselves. You -see, the feeling in the ‘Yard’ has grown more bitter, and yesterday a -committee came to me and asked if I’d stand against Shackleford, who’s -been picked by the Auburn Street crowd, and was expected to go in -without opposition. I said I’d have to think it over. I might accept the -position if I was elected, but of course, I wouldn’t do any -wire-pulling—wouldn’t seek any man’s vote. They said that was all they -wanted. But I don’t know; it’s a difficult question for me.” - -“But why?” - -“Well, you see, they’ll rake up the story of my father.” - -Sylvia gave a cry of horror. “Frank!” - -“If there’s a contest, it’ll be war and no quarter.” - -“But would they do such a thing as that?” - -“They would do it,” said Frank, grimly. “So my first impulse was to -refuse. But I rather thought you’d want me to run. For you see, I’ll -have that old scandal all my life, whatever I try to do; and I suppose -you won’t let me keep out of everything.” - -“But, Frank, how will they know about your father?” - -“Lord, Sylvia, don’t you suppose with all the social climbing there is -in this place, they’ve had that morsel long ago? There are fellows here -from the South—your cousin, for one. It doesn’t matter, as long as I’m a -nobody; but if I set out to beat the ‘Gold Coast crowd’—then you’d see!” - -It was amusing to Frank to see how her eyes blazed. “Oh, I ought to stay -to help you!” she exclaimed. “If it only weren’t for father!” - -“Don’t worry, Sylvia. I wouldn’t let you stay for anything. I don’t want -you mixed up in such affairs.” - -“But, Frank, think what it would mean! What a blow to the system you -hate! And I could pull you through—you needn’t laugh, I really could! -There are so many men I could manage!” - -But Frank went on laughing. “Honey,” he said, “you’ve done quite -enough—too much—already. How are you going to pay van Tuiver for what -he’s done?” - -“Pay him, Frank?” - -“Of course. Do you imagine, dear, that van Tuiver’s a man to do anything -without being paid? He’ll hand in his bill for services rendered, and -he’ll put a high value on his services! And what will you do?” - -She sat, deep in thought. “Frank,” she exclaimed, “you’ve been so -good—not to worry about me and that man!” - -He smiled. “Don’t I know what a proud lady you are?” - -“What’s that got to do with it?” - -“Honey, if I had been afraid about van Tuiver, do you suppose I’d have -dared let you know it?” - -She looked at him, her eyes shining. “How nicely you put it!” she said. -“You’re the dearest fellow in the world, a regular haven of refuge to -fly to!” Then suddenly her mood became grave, and she said, “Let me tell -you the truth; I’m glad I’m going away from the man and his money! It -isn’t that it’s a temptation—I don’t know how to say it, but it’s a -nightmare, a load on my mind. I think, ‘Oh, how much good I could do -with that money!’ I think, ‘So much power, and he hasn’t an idea how to -use it!’ It’s monstrous that a man should have so much, and no ideas to -go with it. It’s all very well to turn your back on it, to say that you -despise it—but still it’s there, it’s working all the time, day and -night—and working for evil! Isn’t that true?” - -He was watching her with a quizzical smile. “You’re talking just like -Tom!” he said. “They’ll call _you_ an Anarchist at home!” - -She was interested in the idea of being an Anarchist, and would have got -Frank started upon a lecture on economics. But there came an -interruption in the form of a knock on the door and a boy with a card. -Sylvia glanced at it, and then, without a word, passed it to Frank. He -read it and they looked at each other. - -“Well?” he asked. “Are you going to see him?” - -“I don’t know,” she said. “What do you say?” - -“I can stand it if you can,” laughed Frank; and so Sylvia ordered Mr. -van Tuiver shown up. - - - § 22 - -He stood in the doorway, clad in his faultless afternoon attire. Somehow -he had recovered the hard brilliance, the look of the man of the world, -which Sylvia had noticed the first evening. He gazed at Frank, not -hiding very well his annoyance at finding a third party. - -“Mr. van Tuiver, Mr. Shirley,” said Sylvia. “You do not know each other, -I believe.” - -“I know Mr. Shirley by sight,” said van Tuiver, graciously. He seated -himself on a spindle-legged Louis Quinze chair—so stiffly that Sylvia -thought of a purple domino. She beamed from one to the other, and then -remarked, “What a curious commentary on the Harvard system! Two men -studying side by side for three years, and not knowing each other!” - -She was aware that this remark was not of the most tactful order. She -made it on purpose, thinking to force the two into a discussion. But van -Tuiver was not minded that way. “Er—yes,” he said, and relapsed into -silence. - -“Miss Castleman’s notions of courtesy are derived from a pastoral -civilization,” said Frank, by way of filling in the breach. “You don’t -realize the size of Harvard classes, Sylvia.” - -The girl was watching the other man, and she saw that he had instantly -noted Frank’s form of address. He looked sharply, first at his rival, -and then at her. “Mr. Shirley is also from the South?” he asked. - -“Yes,” said Sylvia, “we are near neighbors.” - -“Oh, I see,” said van Tuiver. “Old friends, then, I presume.” - -“Quite,” said Sylvia, and again there was a pause. She was willing to -let the two men worry through without help, finding it fascinating to -watch them and study them. What a curious contrast they made! She found -herself wondering how far van Tuiver would have got in college life if -he had had the handicaps of her lover! - -Frank was talking about the prospects of the baseball team. He was -pleasant and friendly, and of course quite unmoved by the presence of -Royalty. He seemed to be wholly unaware of the tension in the air, the -restlessness and impatience of the man he was talking to. But Sylvia -knew and was thrilled. - -It was a moment full of possibilities of drama. She asked some question -of Frank, and he answered, casually, “Of course, honey.” He went on, -unconcerned and unperceiving; but Sylvia saw the other man wince as if -he had been touched by something red hot. He looked at her, but found -that she was looking away. She stole a glance at him again, and saw that -he was watching his rival with strained attention, his countenance -several shades paler in hue. - -That was the end of conversation, so far as van Tuiver was concerned. He -answered in monosyllables, and his eyes went from Frank to Sylvia like -those of a hunted animal in a corner. The girl got a new and sharp -realization of his condition. She had gone into this affair as a joke, -but now, for a moment, she was frightened. The man was terrible; every -minute, as he watched Frank, his brow grew darker, he was like a -thundercloud in the room. And this the _arbiter_ of Harvard’s best -society! - -At last, she took pity on him. It was really preposterous of Frank to go -on gossiping about the prospects of a truce with the Princeton “tiger,” -and the resumption of football contests. So, smiling cheerfully at him, -she remarked, “You’ll be missing the lecture, won’t you?” And Frank, -realizing that he was a third party, made his excuses and withdrew. - -Van Tuiver barely waited until Frank had closed the door. Then, with a -poor effort at nonchalance, he remarked, “You know Mr. Shirley quite -intimately.” - -“Oh, yes,” said Sylvia. - -“You—you like him very much, Miss Castleman?” - -“He’s a splendid fellow,” she replied. “He’s one of the men you ought to -have been cultivating.” - -But the other would not be diverted for a moment. “I—I wish—pardon me, -Miss Castleman, but I want you to tell me—what is your relation to him?” - -“Why, really, Mr. van Tuiver——” - -“I know I’ve no right—but I’m desperate!” - -“But—suppose I don’t care to discuss the matter?” She was decided in her -tone, for she saw that stern measures were necessary if he was to be -checked. - -But nothing could stop him—he was beyond mere convention. “Miss -Castleman,” he rushed on, “I must tell you—I’ve tried my best, but I -can’t help it! I love you—as I’ve never dreamed that a man could love. I -want to marry you!” - -He stopped, breathing hard; and Sylvia, off her guard, exclaimed, “No!” - -“I mean it!” he declared. “I’m in earnest—I want to marry you!” - -She caught herself together. She had not meant this to happen. She -answered, with a tone of _hauteur_, “Mr. van Tuiver, you have no right -to say that to me.” - -“But why not? I am making you an offer of marriage. You must understand. -I mean it.” - -“I am able to believe that you mean it; but that is not the point. You -have no right to ask me to marry you, when I have refused you my -friendship.” - -There was a pause. He sat staring at her in pitiful bewilderment. “I -thought,” he said, “this was more serious.” And then he stopped, reading -in her face that something was wrong. “Isn’t an offer of marriage more -serious than one of friendship?” he inquired. - -“More serious?” repeated Sylvia. “More important, you mean?” - -“Exactly.” - -“More attractive, that is?” she suggested. - -“Why—yes.” - -“In other words, Mr. van Tuiver, you thought that a man with so much -money might be accepted as a husband when he’d been rejected as a -friend?” - -“Why—not exactly that, Miss Castleman——” - -But Sylvia hardly heard his denial. A wave of annoyance, of disgust, had -swept over her. She rose to her feet. “You have justified my worst -opinion of you!” she exclaimed. - -“What have I done?” he cried, miserably. - -“It isn’t what you’ve done, as I’ve told you before—it’s what you are, -Mr. van Tuiver. You are utterly, utterly impossible, and I’m furious -with myself for having heard what you have just said to me.” - -“Miss Castleman! I beseech you——” - -But she would not hear him further. She could not endure his presence. -“There is no use saying another word,” she declared. “I will not talk to -you. I will not know you!” - -The madness of love was upon him; he held out his hands imploringly. But -she repelled him with blazing eyes. “You must go!” she said. “Go at -once! I will not see you again—I positively forbid you to come near me.” - -He tried twice to speak, but each time she stopped him, crying, “Go, Mr. -van Tuiver!” And so at last he went, almost crying with humiliation and -distress, in his agitation forgetting his hat and gloves. So furious was -Sylvia that she shut the door, and fell on the sofa weeping. - -When she came to look back on it, she was amazed by her vehemence. It -could not have been the manner of the proposal, for he had been -insufferable many times before, and she had managed to take a humorous -view of it. Had it perhaps been seeing him in opposition to Frank which -had fired the powder mine of her rage? Was it that jealousy of his -power, of which she had spoken? Or was it the protective instinct with -which Nature had endowed her maidenhood—that she could jest with him -while he was seeking her friendship, but was convulsed with anger when -he spoke to her of love? - - - § 23 - -That evening there was an entertainment of the “Hasty Pudding” Club, and -the next afternoon Sylvia was to take her departure. All the morning she -held an informal levee of those who came to bid her good-bye, and to -make their comments on the amazing events which were transpiring. For -one thing, the candidacy of Frank Shirley for class-president was -formally announced; and for another, Douglas van Tuiver had declared his -intention to move from his house into one of the cheaper dormitories, -and to take his seat at the common dining-tables in Memorial Hall. - -Earliest of all came Harley, in a terrible state. “What can have got -into you? You’ve ruined everything—you’ve undone all the good you did -for me!” - -“As bad as that, Harley?” she asked. She was gentle with him, realizing -suddenly how completely she had overlooked him and his interests in the -last few crowded days. - -“What does it all mean?” he went on. “What has made you want to smash -things like this?” - -She knew, of course, that there was no use trying to explain to him. She -contented herself with saying that things could not be as bad as he -thought. - -“They couldn’t be worse!” he exclaimed. “Van Tuiver’s gone over to the -‘Yard,’ bag and baggage, and the club-men are simply furious. They’re -denouncing you, because you made him do it, and when they can’t get at -you, they’ll take it out on me. Sooner or later they are bound to learn -that you’re engaged to Frank Shirley; and then they’ll say you did it -all to help him—that you fooled van Tuiver and made a cat’s paw of him -for the sake of Frank.” - -That was a new aspect of the matter, and a serious one; but Sylvia -realized that there was no remedying it now. She was glad when other -callers arrived, so that she might send her cousin away. - -There came Thurlow, who, as a chum of Shackleford, wished to protest to -Sylvia against the harm she was doing to the latter’s candidacy, and to -all that was best in Harvard’s social life. There came Jackson, who, as -van Tuiver’s best friend, painted a distressful picture of the collapse -of his prestige. There came Harmon, also pledged to plead the cause of -“Auburn Street,” but proving a poor ambassador on account of his selfish -weakness. He spoke of van Tuiver’s pitiful state, but a very little -contriving on Sylvia’s part sufficed to bring him to his knees, -beseeching her to make him the happiest man in the world. - -Sylvia rather liked Harmon; she was grateful to him for having been the -first man at Harvard to fall in love with her, thus helping her over a -time of great self-distrust. He made his offer with more eloquence than -one would have expected from a reserved upper-class club man; and Sylvia -gently parried his advances, and wiped away one or two tears of genuine -sympathy, and promised to be a sister to him in the most orthodox old -Southern style. - -And then came “Tubby” Bates. “Tubby” did not ask her to marry him, but -he made her several speeches which were even more pleasant to hear. She -had finished her packing, and had on her gray traveling dress when he -called. He stood in the middle of the floor, gazing at her approvingly, -his round face beaming and his eyes twinkling with fun. “Oh, what a stir -in the frog-pond we’ve made!” he exclaimed. “And now you’re running off -and leaving me to face the racket alone!” - -“What in the world have _you_ to do with it?” she asked. - -“Me? Doesn’t everybody know that it was I who set you on van Tuiver? -Didn’t I bring you together at that fatal dance? And now all the big -guns in the college are aiming murder at me!” - -The other laughed. “Surely, Mr. Bates, your social position can stand a -strain!” - -He laughed in return, but suddenly became serious. He said: “I wouldn’t -care anyhow. Honest to God, Miss Castleman! There’s something I wanted -to say to you—I have to thank you for teaching me a lesson.” - -“A lesson?” - -“You know, we don’t live in such a lovely world—and I’m afraid I’ve got -to be cynical. But you’ve made me ashamed of myself, and I want to tell -you. It’s something I shall never forget; it may sound melodramatic—but -I shall always think better of women for what you’ve done.” - -She looked at him and grew serious. “Tell me, just what have I done that -seems so extraordinary to you? I haven’t felt a bit heroic.” - -“I’ll answer you straight. You turned down van Tuiver and his money!” - -“And does that really surprise you so?” she asked. - -“I can only tell you that I didn’t believe there was a woman in America -who’d do it. I can tell you also that van Tuiver didn’t believe it!” - -Sylvia could not help laughing. “But, really, Mr. Bates, how could you -expect so badly of me—that I’d sell my soul for luxury?” - -“It isn’t luxury, Miss Castleman. That’s nothing. You can buy a whole -lot of luxury with no more money than I’ve got. But with van Tuiver it -would be something else—something that not one woman in a million has -offered to her. It’s power, its supremacy—it’s really what you called -Royalty.” - -“And you thought that would buy me?” - -He sat watching her intently; he did not answer. - -“Tell me truly,” she said. “I won’t mind.” - -“No,” he said, “there’s something beyond that. I’ve read you, Miss -Castleman, and I thought he’d get you this way—you’d think of all that -could be done with his money. How many people you knew that you could -help! How much good you could do in the world! You’d think of starving -children to be fed, of sick children to be healed. You’d say, ‘I could -make him do good with that money, and nobody else in the world could!’ -That’s the way he’d get you, Miss Castleman!” - -Sylvia was gazing at him, fascinated. He saw a strange look in her eyes, -and he felt, rather than saw, that she drew a long breath. “You see!” he -said. “You _did_ have to be heroic!” - -So, when “Tubby” Bates took his departure, he held her hand longer than -any of her other callers had been permitted to. “Dear Miss Castleman,” -he said, “I’ll never forget you; and if you need a friend, count on me!” - -He went away, and Sylvia sat in her chair, gazing before her, deep in -thought. There came a knock, and a note was brought in. She frowned -before she looked at it—she had come to know where these notes came -from. - -“My dear Miss Castleman,” it read, “I have just learned that you are -going away. I implore you to give me one word. I stand ready to do all -that you have asked me, and I throw myself on your mercy. I must see you -once again.” - -For a moment Sylvia was frightened, wondering if she had a madman to -deal with. Then she crumpled the paper in her hand, and going to the -desk, seized a pen and wrote, with the swiftness of one enraged: - -“Mr. van Tuiver, I have asked you to do nothing. I wish you to do -nothing. All you can accomplish is to inflict disagreeable notoriety -upon me. I demand that you give up all thought of me. I am engaged to -marry another man, and I will under no circumstances consent to see you -again.” - -This note she sent down by the boy, and when Frank came for her with a -motor-car, she kept him in the room and sent Aunt Varina down into the -lobby to make sure that van Tuiver was not waiting there. Some instinct -made her feel that she must not let the two men meet again. - -Also this gave her a little interval with Frank. She put her hands in -his, exclaiming, “I’m so glad I’ve got you, Frank! Hurry up—get through -with this place and come home!” - -“You didn’t like it here?” he smiled. - -“I’m glad I came,” she answered. “It’ll be good for me—I’ll be happier -at home with you!” - -He took her gently in his arms, and she let him kiss her. “You really do -love me!” he whispered. “I can’t understand it, but you really do!” - -And she looked at him with her shining eyes. “I love you,” she -said—“even more than I did when I came. The happiest moment of my life -will be when I can walk out of the church with you, and have nothing -more to do with the world!” - -“Good-bye, Lady Sunshine!” he said. “Good-bye, Lady Sunshine!” - - - - - BOOK III - _Sylvia Loses_ - - - § 1 - -Sylvia returned to New York, where she had some shopping to attend to, -and where also Celeste was waiting for her, expecting to be taken to -theatres, and treated to a new hat and some false curls and boxes of -candy. Celeste had heard all about van Tuiver, it appeared, and was -“thrilled to death”—her own phrase. There was no repressing her -questions—“Is he nice, Sylvia?”—“What does he look like?”—and so on. Nor -was there any concealing her surprise at Sylvia’s reticence and lack of -interest in this subject. - -The elder sister got a sudden realization of the extent to which she had -changed during this last couple of weeks. “They will call you an -Anarchist at home,” Frank had predicted; and now how worldly and hard -seemed Celeste to her—how shameful and cruel her absorption in all the -snobbery of Miss Abercrombie’s! Could it be that she, Sylvia, had ever -been so “thrilled to death” over millionaire beaux and millionairess’ -millinery? Her sister had grown so in the few months that Sylvia hardly -knew her; she had grown, not merely in body but in mind. So serene she -was, so self-possessed, so perfectly certain about herself and her life! -Such energy she had, such determination—how her sharp, black eyes -sparkled with delight in the glories of this world! Sylvia found herself -stealing glances at her during the matinee, and wondering if this could -be “Little Sister”? - -Sylvia had dismissed her multimillionaire from her mind; but she was not -to get rid of him as easily as that. (“He persists and persists,” Bates -had said.) One afternoon, feeling tired, she sent her aunt forth to -attend to some of the family commissions; when to her amazement there -was sent up a note, written upon the hotel stationery, in the familiar -square English handwriting. - -“My dear Miss Castleman,” it ran. “I know that you will be angry when -you see I have followed you to New York. I can only plead with you to -have pity upon me. You have put upon me a burden of contempt which I can -simply not bear; if I cannot somehow manage to win your respect, I -cannot live. I ask only for your respect, and will promise never to ask -for anything else, nor to think of anything else. However bad I may be, -surely you cannot deny me the hope of becoming better!” - -You see, it would have been hard for Sylvia to refuse the request. He -struck the right chord when he asked for her pity, for she pitied all -things that suffered—whether they deserved it or not. - -She pitied him when she saw him, for his face was drawn and his look -haunted. He, the man of fashion, the exemplar of good taste, stood -before her like a whipped schoolboy, afraid to lift his eyes to hers. - -He began, in a low voice, “It is kind of you to see me. There is -something I wish to try to explain to you. I want you to know that I -have thought over what you have said to me. I have hardly thought of -anything else. I have tried to see things from your point of view, Miss -Castleman. I know I have seemed to you monstrously egotistical—selfish, -and all that. I have felt your scorn of me, like something burning me. I -can’t bear it. I simply must show you that I am really not as bad as I -have seemed. I want you to realize my side of it—I mean, how much I’ve -had against me, how hard it was for me to be anything but what I am.” - -He paused. He had his hat in his hands, and Sylvia observed to her -dismay that he was twisting it, for all the world like a nervous -schoolboy. - -“I want to be understood,” he said, “but I don’t know if you are -willing—if I bore you——” - -“Pray go on, Mr. van Tuiver,” she said, in a gentler tone of voice than -she had ever used to him before. - -“This is the point!” he burst out. “You simply can’t know what it’s -meant to be brought up as I was! I’ve come to realize why you hate me; -but you must know that you’re the first who ever showed me any other -viewpoint than that of money. There have been some who seemed to have -other viewpoints, but they were only pretending, they always came round -to the money viewpoint, they gave the money reaction. If you try things -by a certain measure, and they fit it, you come to think that’s the -measure they were made by. And that’s been my experience; since I was a -little child, as far back as I can remember—men and women and even -children, everybody I met was the same—until I met you.” - -He stopped, waiting for her to give some sign. Her eyes caught his and -held them. “How was I able to convince you?” she asked. - -“You—” he said—and then hesitated. “You’ll be angry with me.” - -“No,” she said, “go on. Let us talk frankly.” - -“You refused to marry me, Miss Castleman.” - -“That was the supreme test?” He shrank, but she pursued him. “You hadn’t -thought that any woman would really refuse to marry you?” - -He replied in a low voice: “I hadn’t.” - -Sylvia sat, absorbed in thought. “What a world!” she whispered, half to -herself; and then to him: “Tell me—is Mrs. Winthrop like that?” - -Again he hesitated. “I—I don’t know,” he replied. “I never thought about -her in that way. She already has her money.” - -“If she still had to get it, then you don’t know what she’d be?” - -She saw a quick look of fear. “You’re angry with me again?” he -questioned. By things such as this she realized how thoroughly she had -him cowed. - -“No” she said, gently, “I’m really interested. I do see your side -better. I have blamed you for being what you are, but you’re really only -part of a world, and it’s this world that I hate.” - -“Yes,” he exclaimed, with a sudden light of hope in his eyes. “Yes, -that’s it exactly! And I want you to help me get out of that world—to be -something better, so that you won’t have to despise me. I only ask you -to be interested in me, to help me and advise me. I won’t even ask you -to be my friend—you can decide that for yourself. I know I’m not worthy -of you. Truly, I blush with shame when I think that I asked you to marry -me!” - -“You shouldn’t say that,” she smiled. “It was only so that you really -came to trust me!” - -But he would not jest. He had come there in one last forlorn effort, and -he poured himself out in self-abasement, so that it hurt Sylvia merely -to listen to him. She made haste to tell him that his boon was -granted—she would think of him in a kindlier way, and would let him -write to her of his struggles and his hopes. Some day, perhaps, she -might even see him again and be his friend. - -While they were still talking there came an interruption—a bell-boy with -a telegram addressed to Sylvia. She glanced at it, tore it open and read -it; and then van Tuiver saw her go white. “Oh!” she cried, as if in -sudden pain. “Oh!” - -She started to her feet, and the man did the same. “What is it?” he -asked; but she did not seem to hear him. She stood with her hands -clenched, staring before her, whispering, “Papa! Papa!” - -She looked about her, distracted. “Aunt Varina’s gone!” she cried. “And -I don’t know where she is! We’ll be delayed for hours!” She began to -wring her hands with grief and distress. - -Van Tuiver asked again, more urgently, “What is it?” - -She put the telegram into his hands, and he read the message: “Come home -at once. Take first train. Let nothing delay. Father.” - -“He’s ill!” she cried. “I know he’s ill—maybe dead, and I’ll never see -him again! Oh, Papa!” So she went on, quite oblivious to the presence of -the man. - -“But listen!” he protested. “I don’t understand. This telegram is signed -by your father.” - -“I know!” she cried. “But they’d do that—they’d sign his name, even if -he were dead, so that I wouldn’t know. They’d want me home to break the -news to me!” - -“But,” he asked, “have you reason to think——” - -“He was ill. I didn’t know just how ill, but that’s why I was going -home. He must be dying, or they’d never telegraph me like that.” She -gazed about her, wildly. “And don’t you see? Aunt Varina’s out. I’m -helpless!” - -“We’ll have to find her, Miss Castleman.” - -“But I’ve no idea where she’s gone—she just said she would be shopping. -So we’ll miss the four o’clock train, and then there’s none till eight, -and that delays us nearly a whole day, because we have to lie over. Oh, -God—I must do something. I can’t wait all that time!” - -She sank on a chair by the table and buried her face in her hands, -sobbing like one distracted. The man by her side was frightened, never -having seen such grief. - -“Miss Castleman,” he pleaded, “pray control yourself—surely it can’t be -so bad. There are so many reasons why they might have telegraphed you.” - -“No!” she exclaimed, “no, you don’t understand them. They’d never send -me such a message unless something terrible had happened! And now I’ll -miss the train.” - -“Listen,” he said, quickly, “don’t think anything more about that—let me -solve that problem for you. You can have a special, that will start the -moment you are ready and will take you home directly.” - -“A special?” she repeated. - -“A private car. I’d put my own at your disposal, but it would have to be -sent around by ferry, and that would take too long. I can order another -in a few minutes, though.” - -“But Mr. van Tuiver, I can’t let you——” - -“Pray, don’t say that! Surely in an emergency like this one need not -stand on ceremony. The cost will be nothing to speak of, and it will -give me the greatest pleasure.” - -He took her bewildered silence for consent, and stepped to the ’phone. -While he was communicating with the railroad and giving the necessary -orders, she sat, choking back her sobs, and trying to think. What could -the message mean? Could it mean anything but death? - -She came back to the man; she realized vaguely that he was a great help, -cool, efficient and decisive. He phoned for a messenger, and wrote a -check and an order for the train and sent it off. He had a couple of -maids sent up by the hotel to do the packing. “Now,” he said, “do not -give another thought to these matters—the moment your aunt comes you can -step into a taxi, and the train will take you.” - -“Thank you, thank you!” she said. She had a moment of wonder at his -masterfulness; a special train was a luxury of which she would never -have thought. She realized another of the practical aspects of -Royalty—he would of course use a private car. - -But then she began to pace the room again, her features working with -distress. “Oh, Papa! Papa!” she kept crying. - -“You really ought not to suffer like this, when it may be only a -mistake,” he pleaded. “Give me the address and I will telegraph for -further particulars. You can get the answer on your train, you know. And -meantime I’ll try, and see if we can get your home on the long-distance -’phone.” - -“Can we talk at this distance?” she asked. - -“I don’t know, but at least we can relay a message.” So again she let -him manage her affairs, grateful for his prompt decisiveness, which set -all the machinery of civilization at work in her behalf. - -“Now try to be calm,” he said, “until we can get some more definite -information. People are sometimes ill without dying.” - -“I’ve always known that I was going to lose my father suddenly!” she -broke out. “I don’t know why—he has tragedy in his very face. If you -could only see it—his dear, dear face! I love him so, I can’t tell you. -I wake up in the night, sometimes, and the thought comes to me: ‘Papa -has to die! Some day I’ll have to part from him.’ And then the most -dreadful terror seizes me—I don’t know how I can bear it! Papa, oh, -Papa!” - -She began to sob again; in his sympathy he came and stood by her. -“Please, please,” he murmured. - -“I’ve no right to inflict this upon you,” she exclaimed. - -“Don’t think of that. If I could only help you—if I could suggest -anything.” - -“It’s one of those cases,” she said, “where nothing can be done. -Whatever it is, I’ll have to endure it, somehow. If he’ll only live -until I get there, so that I can see him, speak with him again, hear his -voice. I’ve never really been able to tell him how much I love him. All -that he’s done for me—you see, I’ve been his favorite child, we’ve been -like two playmates. I’ve tended him when he was ill, I’ve read to -him—everything. So he always thinks about me. He wants me to be happy, -and so he hides his troubles from me. He hides them from everybody; and -you know how it is—that makes people lean on him and take advantage of -him. He’s a kind of family drudge—everybody comes to him, his brothers -and sisters, his nephews and nieces—anybody that needs help or advice or -money. He’s so generous—too generous, and so he gets into difficulties. -I’ve seen his light burning till two or three o’clock in the morning, -when he was working over his accounts; and then he looks pale and -haggard, and still he smiles and won’t let me know. But I always know, -because he stays close to me, like a child. And now there’s been an -overflow, and maybe this year’s whole crop is ruined, and that’s a -terrible misfortune, and he’s been worrying about it——” - -Suddenly she stopped. This was Douglas van Tuiver she was talking -to—telling him her family affairs! She had a sudden thrill of fear about -it—she ought not to have let him know that her father was in -difficulties as to money! - -It was only for a moment, however; she could not think very long of -anything but her father. What floods of memories came sweeping over her! -“He was always so proud of me,” she continued. “When I came out, two -years ago—dear old Daddy, he wore his wedding-suit, that he’d had put -away in a cedar chest in the attic. He stood beside mother, under the -lilies and the bright lights, and both of them would look at me and -beam.” - -She had risen to her feet, and was pacing the room, talking brokenly, -but eagerly, as if it were important to make her listener realize how -very lovable her father was. “Just think!” she said. “He had an old -purse in his hand—one that my mother had given him on their wedding -journey. In it was an orange-blossom from their bridal-bouquet, and some -rose leaves that she had bitten off and let fall at his feet, once when -he was courting her. He had treasured them for twenty years; and now -some one brushed against his hand and knocked the dead leaves to the -floor, and they broke and went all to dust, and he got down on his knees -and searched for them with tears in his eyes. I remember how mother -scolded him for making a spectacle of himself, and he got up and went -off by himself, to grieve because his bridal-flowers had turned to -dust.” - -Van Tuiver had listened in silence. When he spoke, his voice held a -strange note. “Never mind,” he said, “you will make it up to him. You -will give him flowers from your bridal wreath.” - -Again Sylvia found herself uncomfortable. But they were interrupted by -the telephone—the connections with her home had been established. She -flew to the booth downstairs, but she could hear nothing but a buzzing -noise, and so there were some torturing minutes while her questions were -relayed—she talking with “Washington,” and “Washington” with “Atlanta,” -and so on. What she finally got was this: No one was ill or dead, but -she must come at once—nothing must delay her. They could not explain -until she arrived. And of course that availed her simply nothing. She -was convinced that they were hiding the truth until she was home. - -When she went back to her room, she found that Aunt Varina had come. -Their trunks were ready, and so they set off for the station, van Tuiver -with them. He saw them settled in their car, and the girl perceived that -at so much as a word from her he would have taken the long journey with -her. She shook hands with him and thanked him—so gratefully that he was -quite transported. As the car started and he hurried to the door and -leaped off, he was a happier-looking van Tuiver than Sylvia had ever -expected to see. - - - § 2 - -By the time that Sylvia’s train reached home, she had gotten herself -together. Although still anxious, she no longer showed it. Whatever the -tragedy might be, she was ready to face it, not asking for help, but -giving help to others. It was surely for that that they had summoned -her. - -She was on the car platform as the train slowed up; and there before her -eyes stood her father. He was haggard, and gray, and old-looking—but -alive, thank God! - -She flew to his arms. “Papa! What’s the matter?” - -“Nothing, my child,” he answered. - -“But who is ill?” - -“Nobody is ill, Sylvia.” - -“Tell me the truth!” - -“No one,” he insisted. - -“But then, why did you send for me?” - -“We wanted you home.” - -“But, Papa! In this fashion—surely you wouldn’t—” She stopped, and the -Major turned to greet his sister. - -Sylvia got into the motor, and they started. “Is Mamma well?” she asked. - -“Yes,” he replied. - -“And the baby?” - -“Everybody is well.” - -“And you, Papa?” - -“I have not been so very fine, but I am better now.” Sylvia suspected he -had got up from his sick-bed to come and meet her, and so her sense of -dread increased. But she put no more questions—she knew she would have -to wait. The Major had begun to talk about the state of the crops. - -The car reached home; and there on the steps were her mother, and the -baby shouting a lusty welcome, and Peggy and Maria dancing with glee—to -say nothing of troops of servants, inside the house and out, grinning -and waiting to be noticed. There was noise and excitement, so much that -for several minutes Sylvia forgot her anxiety. Then everybody wanted to -know if she had brought them presents; she had to stop and think what -she had purchased, and what she had delayed to purchase, and what she -had left behind in the rush of departure. Aunt Varina said something -about the special train, and there were questions about that, and about -Douglas van Tuiver, who had provided it. And still not a word about the -mystery. - -“But, Mamma,” cried Sylvia, at last, “why did you bring me home like -this?” - -“Hush, dear,” said “Miss Margaret.” “Not now.” - -And so more delay. Aunt Nannie was expected shortly—she had said she -would run over to greet the returning voyagers. Sylvia scented trouble -in this, and would no longer be put off, but took her mother aside. -“Mamma,” she pleaded, “please tell me what’s the matter!” - -The other colored. “It isn’t time now, my child.” - -“But why _not_, Mamma?” - -“Wait, Sylvia, please. It is nothing——” - -“But, Mamma, did you send me such a telegram for nothing? Don’t you -realize that I have been almost beside myself? I was sure that somebody -was dead.” - -“Sylvia, dear,” pleaded “Miss Margaret,” “please wait—I will tell you by -and by. There are people here now——” - -“But there’ll always be people here. Come into the library with me.” - -“I beg you to calm yourself——” - -“But, Mamma, I want to _know_! Why should I be tormented with delay? -Can’t I see by the manner of all of you that something is wrong? What is -it?” She dragged her mother off to the library, and shut the door. “Now, -Mamma, tell me!” - -The other looked towards the door, as if she wished to make her escape. -Something about her attitude reminded Sylvia of that “talk” she had had -before her departure for school. “My dear Sylvia,” began the mother, “it -is something—it is very difficult——” - -“For heaven’s sake, go on!” - -“My child, you are going to be dreadfully distressed, I fear. I wish -that I could help you—oh, Sylvia, dear, I’d rather die than have to tell -you this!” - -Sylvia clutched her hands to her bosom in sudden fear. Her mother -stretched out her arms to her. “Oh, my child,” she exclaimed, “you must -believe that we love you, and you must let our love help! We tried to -save you from this—from this——” - -“Tell me!” cried the girl. “Tell me!” - -“Oh, my poor child!” wailed “Miss Margaret” again, “Why did you have to -love him? We were sure he would turn out to be bad! We——” - -Sylvia sprang towards her and shook her by the arm. - -“Mamma, answer me! What is it?” - -“Miss Margaret” began searching in the bosom of her dress. She drew out -a crumpled piece of paper—a telegram. Sylvia took it with trembling -fingers, and spreading it out, read these words: - -“Frank Shirley arrested in disorderly house in Boston, held to await -result of assault on another student. Possibly fatal. Get Sylvia home at -once. Harley.” - -She stood perfectly rigid, staring at her mother. She could not realize -the words, they swam before her in a maze. The paper fluttered from her -fingers. “It’s false!” she cried. “Do you expect me to believe that? -It’s a plot! It’s some trick they’ve played on Frank!” - -Her mother, frightened by the pallor of her face, put her arms around -her. “My daughter—” she began. - -“What have you done about this? I mean—to find out if it is true?” - -“We telegraphed Harley to write us full particulars.” - -“Oh, why did you send for me?” the girl exclaimed, passionately. “If -Frank is arrested, I ought to be there!” - -“Sylvia!” cried her mother, aghast. “Have you read the message? Don’t -you see _where_ he was arrested?” - -Yes, Sylvia had read, but what could she make of it? In her mind was a -medley of emotions: horror at what Frank had done, disbelief that he had -done it, shame of a subject of which she had been taught not to think, -anxiety for her lover in trouble—all these contended within her. - -“The wretch!” exclaimed “Miss Margaret.” “To drag my child’s name in the -mire!” - -“Hush!” cried Sylvia, between her teeth. “It is not true! It’s somebody -trying to ruin him! It’s a horrible, horrible lie!” - -“But, Sylvia! The telegram came from your cousin!” - -“I don’t care! It’s some tale they’ve told to Harley!” - -“But—he says Frank is arrested!” - -“Oh, I ought to go to him! I ought to find out the truth! Frank is not -that kind of man!” - -“My child,” ventured “Miss Margaret,” “how much do you know about men?” - -Sylvia stared at her mother. Vague questions trembled on her lips; but -she saw there was no help in that quarter. “I have always kept my -daughter innocent!” the other was saying. “He ought to be killed for -coming into our home and dragging you into such shame!” - -Sylvia stood silent, utterly bewildered. She knew that there were -dreadful things in the world, of which she had gathered only the vaguest -hints. “A disorderly house!” She had heard the name—she had heard other -such names; she knew that these were unmentionable places, where wicked -women lived and vile things were done; also she knew that men went -there—but surely not the men she knew, surely not gentlemen, not those -who ventured to ask for her love! - -But why should she torment herself with such thoughts now? This charge -against Frank could not be true! “How long will it be,” she demanded, -“before we can have the letter from Harley?” - -“At least another day, your father says.” - -“And there is nothing else we can do?” She tried to think. “We might -telephone to Harley.” - -“Your Aunt Nannie suggested that, but your father would not have such a -matter talked about over the ’phone.” - -Sylvia racked her brains, but there was no other plan she could suggest. -She saw that she had at least one day of torment and suspense before -her. “Very well, Mamma,” she said. “Let me go to my room now. I’ll try -to be calm. But don’t let anybody come, please—I want to be alone.” - -She could hardly endure to go out into the hall, because of her shame, -and the fear of meeting some member of the family. But there was no need -of that—they all knew what was happening, and went about on tiptoe, as -in a house of mourning. Everyone kept out of her way, and she went up to -her room and shut herself in and locked the door. There passed -twenty-four hours of agony, during which she by turns paced the floor, -or lay upon the bed and wept, or sat in a chair, staring into space with -unseeing eyes. They brought her food, but she would not touch it; they -tempted her with wine, with coffee, but for nothing would she open the -door. “Bring me Harley’s letter when it comes,” was all she would say. - - - § 3 - -On the morning of the next day her mother came to her. “Has the letter -come?” asked Sylvia. - -The mother hesitated, and so Sylvia knew that it had come. “Give it to -me!” she cried. - -“It was addressed to your father, Sylvia——” - -“Where is Papa?” - -She started to the door. But “Miss Margaret” stood in her way. “Your -father, my child, has asked your Uncle Basil to come over.” And then, as -Sylvia persisted, “Sylvia, you can’t talk of such things to your father. -He thinks it is a matter which your Uncle Basil ought to attend to. -Please spare your father, Sylvia—he has been ill, and this has been such -a dreadful blow to him!” - -“But for God’s sake, Mamma, what is in the letter?” - -“It justifies our worst fears, my child. But you must be patient—it is -not a thing that a young girl can deal with. Where is your modesty, -Sylvia? Your father will lose respect for you if you do not calm -yourself. You ought to be hating the man who has so disgraced you—who -cares no more for you—” - -“Hush!” cried Sylvia. “You must not say it! You don’t know that it is -true!” - -“But it is true! You will see that it is true. And you ought to be -ashamed of yourself, to cling to a man who has been willing to—to—oh, -what a shameful thing it is! Sylvia, get yourself together, I implore -you—do not let your father and your uncle see you in such a state about -a man—an unworthy man!” - -So there was another hour of distracted waiting, until the Bishop came -up, his gentle face a picture of grief. “Miss Margaret” fled, and Sylvia -shut and locked the door, and turned upon her uncle. “Now, Uncle Basil, -let me see the letter.” - -He put it into her hands without a word. There was also a -newspaper-clipping, and she glanced first at that, and went sick with -horror. There was Frank’s picture, and that of another man, with the -label: “Harvard student who may die as a result of injuries received in -a brawl.” Sylvia’s eyes sped over the reading matter which went with the -pictures; it was from one of the sensational papers, the kind which -revel in personal details, and so she had the whole story. Frank had got -into a fight with a man in a “resort,” and had knocked him down; in -falling, the man had struck his head against a piece of furniture, and -the doctors had not yet determined whether his skull was fractured. In -the meantime, Frank was held in three thousand dollars bail. The account -went on to say that the arrested man had been prominently mentioned as -candidate for class-president, on behalf of the “Yard” against the “Gold -Coast;” also that he was the son of Robert Shirley, who had died in -State’s prison under sentence for embezzlement. - -It seemed hardly necessary to read any more; but Sylvia turned to -Harley’s letter, which gave various additional details, and some -comments. There was one point in particular which etched itself upon her -mind: “There need be no doubt as to the character of the place. It is -one of the two or three high-class houses of prostitution in Boston -which are especially patronized by college men. This is not mentioned in -the newspaper accounts, of course, but I know a man who was present and -saw the row, so there can be no question as to that part of the matter.” - -Sylvia let the letter fall, and sinking down upon the bed, buried her -face in her arms. The Bishop could see her form racked and shuddering. -He came and sat by her, and put his hand upon her shoulder, waiting in -silence. “My poor child!” he began in a whisper, at last. “My poor, poor -child!” - -He dared not let her suffer too long without trying to help her. “My -dear,” he pleaded, “let me talk to you. Make an effort, hear me. Sylvia, -you have to bear it. My heart bleeds for you, but there’s no help—it has -to be borne. Won’t you listen to the advice of an old man, who’s had to -endure terrible grief, and shame—agony almost as great as yours?” - -“Well?” she demanded, suddenly. Her voice sounded strange and hard to -him. - -“Sylvia, dear, I tried to prove God’s words to you by logic, and I could -not. God was never proved by logic, my child—men don’t believe in Him -for that reason. They believe because at some awful moment they could -not face life alone—because suffering and grief had broken their hearts, -and they were forced to pray. Sylvia, there is only one way of help for -you—and that is through prayer.” - -He waited to know what effect his words were having. Suddenly he heard -the strange, hard voice again. “Uncle Basil.” - -“Well, my child.” - -“I want you to tell me one thing. I have to understand this, but I -can’t—I can’t ask anybody.” - -“What is it, Sylvia?” - -“I want to know—do men do such things?” - -The Bishop answered, in a low tone, “Yes, my child, I am sorry to -say—many of them do.” - -“Oh, I hate them!” she cried, with sudden fierceness. “I hate them! I -hate life! It’s a shameful, hideous world, and I wish that I could die!” - -“Ah, don’t say that, my child!” he pleaded. “I beg you not to take it -that way. If we let affliction harden us, instead of chastening and -humbling us, then we miss all the purpose for which it is sent. Who -knows, Sylvia—perhaps this is a punishment which God in His wisdom has -adjudged you?” - -“Punishment, Uncle Basil? What have _I_ done?” - -“You have denied His word, my child. You have presumed to set your own -feeble mind against His will and doctrine. And now——” - -“Oh, Uncle Basil, stop!” she exclaimed. “Your words have no meaning to -me whatever!” She buried her face in the pillow, and terrible sobbing -shook her, burst after burst of it, as a tempest shakes a tree. “Oh, I -loved him so! I loved him so!” - -The old man had tried speaking as a Bishop; now he thought that the time -had come for him to speak as a Castleman. His voice became suddenly -stern. “Sylvia,” he said, “the man was not worthy of your affection, and -you must manage to put him from your thoughts. You are the child of a -proud race, Sylvia—the daughter of pure women! You must bear this -trouble with character, and with the consciousness of your purity.” - -“Uncle Basil,” she answered, “please go. I can’t bear to talk to anyone -now. I must be alone for a while.” - -He rose and stood hesitating. “There’s no way I can help you?” he asked. - -“Nobody can help me,” she answered. “Thank you, Uncle Basil, but please -go.” - - - § 4 - -And so began the second stage of Sylvia’s ordeal. For days she roamed -the house like a guilt-haunted ghost. She could hardly be got to speak -to any one—she avoided even people’s eyes, so great was her shame. She -would not eat, and she could not sleep—at least, not until she had -managed to bring herself to the point of utter exhaustion. Knowing this, -she would pace the room until she sank upon the bed almost fainting. In -their terror they sent for the doctors, but these could do nothing for -her. The Major came several times a day, and made timid efforts to talk -to her about her roses and the new plants he had got for her. But she -could think about nothing but Frank, and sent him away. Once after -midnight he crept to her room and found that she was gone, and -discovered her in the rose-garden, pacing back and forth distractedly, -bare-footed and clad only in her nightgown. He led her in, and found -that her feet were cut and full of gravel and thorns; but she did not -mind this, she said—the pain was good, it was the only way to distract -her mind. - -What made the thing so cruel to her was that element of obscenity in it, -which was like an extinguisher clapped down upon her mind, making it -impossible for her to talk of it, even to think of it. Sylvia had never -discussed such things, and now she hated Frank for having forced them -upon her. She felt herself degraded—made vile to the whole world, and to -her own soul. She knew that everybody she met was thinking one dreadful -thing; she felt that she could never face the world again, could never -lift up her head again. She had given her heart to a man to keep, and he -had taken it to a “high-class house of prostitution!” - -On the third day the Major came to her room and knocked. He had a -painful duty to perform, he explained. (He did not add that there had -been a family council for nearly an hour past, and that he had been -assigned to execute the collective decision.) There had come a letter—a -letter addressed to Sylvia from Frank Shirley. - -The girl sprang to her feet. “Give it to me!” - -“My daughter!” exclaimed the Major, with a shocked face. - -She waited, looking at him with wondering eyes. “What do you mean, -Papa?” - -He took the missive from his pocket, and held it in his hand as he -spoke. “Do you think,” he asked, “that it would be consistent with my -daughter’s dignity to read such a letter? My child, this man has dragged -your name in the mire; do you think that you ought to continue in any -sort of relationship with him? Is he to be able to boast that he had you -so under his thumb, that even after such an outrage as he had inflicted -upon you——” - -The Major stopped, words failing him. “Papa,” pleaded Sylvia, “might -there not be some explanation?” - -“Explanation!” cried the other. “What explanation—that my daughter could -read?” His voice fell low. “That is the point—I do not wish my -daughter’s mind to be soiled with explanations of this subject. Sylvia, -you cannot know about it!” - -There was a silence. “What do you want me to do, Papa?” - -“There is but one thing a proud woman can do, Sylvia. Send back this -letter, with a note saying that you cannot receive communications from -Mr. Shirley.” - -There was a long silence. Sylvia sank down upon the bed, and he heard -her sobbing softly to herself. “Sylvia!” he exclaimed, “this man had -your affection—he kissed your pure young lips!” He saw her wince, and -followed up his advantage—“He kissed you when you were in Boston, did he -not?” - -She could hardly bring herself to answer. “Yes, Papa.” - -“And do you realize that two or three days later he had gone to -this—this place?” He paused, while the words sank into her soul. “My -daughter,” he cried, “where is your pride?” - -There was something commanding in his voice. She looked up at him; his -face was white, his eyes blazing. “Sylvia,” he exclaimed, “you are a -Castleman! You have wept enough! Rise up, my daughter!” - -She rose, like one under a spell. Yes, it was something to be a -Castleman. It meant to be capable of bearing any torture for the sake of -pride, of facing any danger for the sake of honor. How many tales she -had heard of that Castleman honor! Had not the man who stood before her, -the captain of a regiment when only a half-grown youth, marched and -fought with a broken shoulder-blade, and slept in mud and rain without -shelter or even a blanket, living for weeks upon an allowance of six -grains of corn a day? - -She drew herself up, and her face became cold and set. “Very well, -Papa,” she said, “he deserves my scorn.” - -“Then write as I say.” And he stood by her desk and dictated: - -“Mr. Shirley: I have received the enclosed letter, but do not care to -read it. All relationship between us is at an end. Sylvia Castleman.” - -And to such a height of resolution had she been lifted by her Castleman -pride, that she addressed an envelope, and took Frank’s letter, and -folded it and put it inside, and sealed and stamped the envelope, and -gave it to her father. Nor did she give a sign of pain or grief until -after she had dismissed him, and closed and locked the door. - - - § 5 - -In the days that followed, Sylvia’s longing for her sweetheart overcame -her pride many times; she paced her room, tearing at the neck of her -gown like one suffocating, flinging out her arms in abandonment of -grief, crying under her breath (for she must not let others know that -she was suffering), “Oh, Frank, Frank! How _could_ you?” Anger would -come; she hated him—she hated all men! But again the memory of his slow -smile, his straight-forward gaze, his voice of sincerity. She would find -herself whispering, incoherently, “My love! My love!” - -For the sake of her family, she labored to repress her feelings. But she -would have nightmares, and would toss and moan in her sleep, sometimes -screaming aloud. Once she awakened, bathed in tears, and hearing faint -sobbing, put out her hand, and found her mother, crouching in the -darkness, watching, weeping. - -They besought her to let her mind be diverted by others. For many days -there was a regular watch kept, with family consultations daily, and -some one always deputed to be with her—or at least to be near her door. -Little by little, as she yielded to their persuasions, Sylvia got the -views of the various members of her family upon what had occurred. - -Aunt Varina put her arms about her and wept with her. “Oh, it is -horrible, Sylvia,” she said—“but think how much better that you should -find it out before it’s too late! Oh, dear girl, it is so awful to find -it out when it’s too late.” Thus the voice of Aunt Varina’s wasted life! - -Aunt Nannie came later, as tactful as could have been expected. She did -not say, “I told you so,” but she managed to leave with Sylvia the idea -that the outcome was within the limits of human understanding. It was a -matter of “bad blood;” and “bad blood” was like murder—it would always -out. Also Aunt Nannie ventured to hint that it might be that Sylvia had -allowed Frank Shirley to “take liberties” with her; and this, of course, -made its impression upon the girl, who persuaded herself that she must -be partly to blame for her own disgrace. - -She became bitter against men; she did not see how she could ever -tolerate the presence of one. Her mother, discussing the subject, -remarked, “The reason I married your father was that he was the one good -man I knew.” - -“How did you know that he was good?” demanded the girl. - -“Sylvia!” exclaimed her mother, in horror. - -“But how? Because he told you so?” - -“Miss Margaret” answered hesitatingly, choosing her words for a -difficult subject. “I had heard things. Your Aunt Lady told me—how the -young men in your father’s set had tried to get him to—to live the -wicked life they lived. They made fun of him—called him ‘Miss Nancy’—.” -She broke off suddenly. “I cannot talk about such things to my -daughter!” - -Even from “Aunt Mandy,” the old “black mammy” who had been the first -person to hold Sylvia in her arms, the girl now received counsel. “Aunt -Mandy” served the coffee in the early morning, and stood in the bedrooms -and grinned while the ladies of the family gossiped; she often took part -in the conversation, having gathered stores of family wisdom in her -sixty-odd years. “Honey, I’se had my cross to bear,” she said to Sylvia, -and went on to discuss the depravity of the male animal. “I’se had to -beat my old man wid a flatiron, when I ketched him lookin’ roun’ too -much—an’ even dat didn’t help much, honey. Now I got dem boys o’ mine, -what’s allus up in cou’t, makin’ de Major come to pay jail-fines. But -how kin I be cross wid ’em, when I knows it’s my own fault?” - -“Your fault, Mammy?” said Sylvia. “Why, you are as good a mother——” - -“I know, honey, I’se tried to be good; I’se prayed to de Lord—yes, I’se -took dem boys to de foot o’ de cross. But de Lord done tole me it’s my -fault. ‘Mandy,’ he says, ‘Mandy—look at de daddy you give dem niggers!’ -Oh, honey, take dis from yo’ ole mammy, ef you’se gwine ter bring any -chillun into de worl’—be careful what kind of a daddy you gives ’em!” - -The family had gathered in a solid phalanx about Sylvia. Uncle Barry, -whose plantation was a hundred miles away, and who was a most -hard-working and domestic giant, left his overseers and his family and -came to beg her to let him give her a hunting party. Uncle Mandeville -came from New Orleans to urge her to go to a house party he would give -her. Uncle Mandeville it was who had assured Sylvia as a little girl -that he would protect her honor with his life; and now he caused it to -be known throughout Castleman County that if ever Frank Shirley returned -and attempted to see his niece, he, Frank Shirley, would be “shot like a -dog.” And this was not merely because Uncle Mandeville was drunk, but -was something that he soberly meant, and that everybody who heard him -understood and approved. - -Just how tight was the cordon around her, Sylvia learned when Harriet -Atkinson arrived, fresh from a honeymoon-voyage to the Mediterranean and -the Nile. - -“Why, Sunny, what’s this?” she demanded. “Why wouldn’t you see me?” - -“See you?” echoed Sylvia. “What do you mean. I haven’t refused to see -you.” It transpired that Harriet had been writing and ’phoning and -calling for a week, being put off in a fashion which would have -discouraged anyone but the daughter of a self-made Yankee. “I suppose,” -she said, “they thought maybe I’d come from Frank Shirley.” - -Sylvia’s face clouded, but Harriet went on—“My dear, you look like a -perfect ghost! Really, this is horrible!” So she set to work to console -her friend and drag her out of her depression. “You take it too -seriously, Sunny. Beauregard says you make a lot more fuss about the -thing than it deserves. If you knew men better——” - -“Oh don’t, Harriet!” cried the other. “I can’t listen to such things!” - -“I know,” said Harriet, “there you are—the thing I’ve always scolded you -for! You’ll never be happy, Sunny, while you persist in demanding more -than life will give. You say what you want men to be—and paying no -attention at all to what they really are.” - -“Are you happy?” asked Sylvia, trying to change the subject. - -“About as I expected to be,” said the other. “I knew what I was -marrying. The only trouble is that I haven’t been very well. I suppose -it’s too much rambling about. I’ll be glad to settle down in my home.” -She was going to Charleston to live in the old Dabney Mansion, she -explained; at present she was paying a flying visit to her people. - -“Well, Sunny,” she remarked, “you are going to give him up?” - -“How can I do otherwise, Harriet?” - -“I suppose you couldn’t—with that adamantine pride of yours. And of -course it _was_ awkward that he had to get into the papers. But Beau -says these things blow over sooner than one would expect. Nobody thinks -it’s half as bad as they all pretend to think it.” (Harriet, you must -understand, felt rather sorry for Frank, and thought that she was -pleading his cause. She did not understand that her few words would do -more to damn him than all that the family had been able to say.) - -But she perceived that Sylvia did not want to talk about the subject. -“Well, Sunny,” she said, after a pause, “I see you’ve got a substitute -ready.” - -“How do you mean?” asked Sylvia, dully. - -“I mean your Dutch friend.” - -“My Dutch friend? Oh—you are talking about Mr. van Tuiver?” - -“You are most penetrating, Sylvia!” - -“You’ve heard about him?” said the other, without heeding her friend’s -humor. - -“Heard about him! For heaven’s sake, what else can one hear about in -Castleman County just now?” - -Sylvia said nothing for a while. “I suppose,” she remarked, at last, -“it’s because I came in a special train.” - -“My dear,” said the other, “it’s because _he_ came in a special train.” - -“_He_ came?” repeated Sylvia, puzzled. - -And her friend stared at her. “Good Lord,” she said, “I believe you -really don’t know that Mr. van Tuiver’s in town!” - -Sylvia started as if she had been struck. “Mr. van Tuiver _in town_!” -she gasped. - -“Why, surely, honey—he’s been here three or four days. How they must be -taking care of you!” - -Sylvia sprang to her feet. “How perfectly outrageous!” she cried. - -“What, Sunny? That you haven’t seen him?” - -“Harriet, stop joking with me!” - -“But I’m not joking with you,” said Harriet, bewildered. “What in the -world is the matter?” - -Sylvia’s face was pale with anger. “I won’t see him! I won’t see him! He -has no right to come here!” - -“But Sunny—what’s the matter? What’s the man done?” - -“He wants to marry me, Harriet, and he’s come here—oh, how shameful! how -insulting! At such a time as this!” - -“But I should think this was just the time for him to come!” said -Harriet, laughing in spite of herself. “Surely, Sylvia, if you haven’t -gone formally into mourning——” - -“I won’t see him!” cried the other, passionately. “He must be made to -understand it at once—he’ll gain nothing by coming here!” - -“But, Sunny,” suggested her friend, “hadn’t you better wait until he -_tries_ to see you?” - -“Where is he, Harriet?” - -“He’s staying with Mrs. Chilton.” - -“With Aunt Nannie!” Sylvia stood, staring at Harriet with sudden fear in -her face. She saw now why van Tuiver had made no attempt to see her, why -nothing had been said to her as yet! She clenched her hands tightly and -exclaimed, “I won’t marry him! They sha’n’t sell me to him—they sha’n’t, -they sha’n’t!” - -Her friend was gazing at her in wonder, not unmixed with alarm. “Good -God, Sunny,” she exclaimed, “can he be so bad that you’d refuse to marry -him?” - - - § 6 - -All this while, you must understand, there was Sylvia’s “world” outside, -looking on at the drama—pitying, wondering, gossiping, speculating. -Frank arrested, Frank out on bail! Frank let off with a fine, because -the man did not die! Frank leaving college and coming back to his -plantation! Would he try to see Sylvia, and what would Sylvia do about -it? Would Mandeville Castleman carry out his threat to shoot him? How -was Sylvia taking it, anyway? Would she be seen at the next club-dance? -And then—interest piled upon interest—Douglas van Tuiver had come! Was -it true that the Yankee Crœsus wanted to marry Sylvia? Was it true that -he had already asked her? Could it be that she had actually refused to -see him? And what would the family do about that?—All this, you -understand, most decorously, most discreetly—and yet with such thrills, -such sensations! - -When the audience is stirred, the actors know it; and people so -sensitive and proud as the Castlemans could not fail to be aware that -the world’s attention was focussed upon them. So Sylvia was not left for -long to indulge her grief. As soon as her relatives had made sure of her -breach with Frank, they turned their energies to persuading her to -present a smiling front to “society.” “You must not let people see that -you are eating your heart out over a man!”—such was their cry. There -were few things worse that could happen to a woman than to have it known -that she was grieving about a man. Just as a savage laughs at his -enemies while they are torturing him, so must a woman wear a smile upon -her face while her heart was breaking. - -From the first moment, of course, her old suitors rallied to protect -her—a kind of outer phalanx, auxiliary to the family. They wrote to her, -they sent flowers, they called and lingered in the hope that she might -see them. When the time for the club-dance came, the siege of the -suitors became a general assault. A dozen times a day came her mother or -Aunt Varina to plead with her, to scold her. “I don’t want to dance—I -couldn’t dance!” she wailed; but it would be, “Here’s Charlie Peyton on -the ’phone—he begs you to speak to him just a moment. Go, Sylvia, -please—_don’t_ let people think you are so weak!” - -At last she told one man that he might call. Malcolm McCallum it was—the -same who had crawled upon his knees to prove his devotion to her. She -had long ago convinced him that his suit was hopeless, so now he was -able to plead with her without offense. Her friends wanted so to help -her—would she not give them a chance? They were indignant because of the -way a scoundrel had treated her; they wanted somehow to show her their -loyalty, their devotion. If only she would come—such a tribute as she -would receive! And surely she was not going to give up her whole life, -because of one such fellow! She had so many true friends—would she -punish them all for the act of one? No, they would not have it! No, not -if they had to raid the house and carry her away! The belle of Castleman -Hall should not wither up and be an old maid! - -Sylvia promised to think it over; and then came Aunt Nannie, to protest -in the name of all her cousins against her inflicting further notoriety -upon the family. For Sylvia to be exhibiting such unseemly grief over -Frank Shirley was almost as bad as to be engaged to him. She must -positively take up her normal life again; she must go to this dance! - -Sylvia, perceiving that it would be necessary to have the matter out -sooner or later, inquired, “Is Mr. van Tuiver to be there?” - -She was surprised at the answer, “He is not.” - -“Where is he?” she asked; and learned that the visitor had gone with two -of the boys on a fishing-trip. Sylvia and her aunt exchanged looks—as -two swordsmen might, while their weapons are being measured and the -ground laid out for their duel. The girl could imagine what had -happened, almost as well as if she had been present. Van Tuiver, with -his usual crude egotism, had come post-haste to Castleman Hall; it was -Aunt Nannie who had persuaded him to wait, and let her handle the affair -with tact. Sylvia must first be drawn out into social life, and then it -would be less easy for her to avoid van Tuiver. But although Sylvia felt -sure of this, she could not say so. When she hinted the charge, her aunt -had a shrewd retort ready: “I have daughters of my own—and may I not -have plans of my own for so eligible a young man as Douglas van Tuiver?” - - - § 7 - -Sylvia said that she would go to the dance; and great was the -excitement, both at home and abroad. All day long, between fits of -weeping, she labored to steel herself to the ordeal. When night came, -she let herself be arrayed in rosy chiffon, and then went all to pieces, -and fell upon the bed in a paroxysm, declaring that she could not, could -not go. One by one came “Miss Margaret,” Aunt Varina, and Celeste, -scolding her, beseeching her—but all in vain; until at last they sent -for the Major, who, wiser than all of them, arrayed himself in his own -evening finery, and put a white rosebud in his button-hole, and then -went with cheerful face and breaking heart to Sylvia’s room. - -“Come, little girl,” he said. “Daddy’s all ready.” - -Sylvia sat up and stared at him through her tears. “You!” she exclaimed. - -“Why, of course, honey,” he smiled. “Didn’t you know your old Papa was -going with you?” - -Sylvia had not known it, nor had anybody else known it up to a few -minutes before. Her surprise (for the Major almost never went to dances) -was sufficiently great to check her tears; and then came “Miss Margaret” -with a glassful of steaming “hot toddy.” “My child,” she said, “drink -this. You’ve had no nourishment—that’s why you go to pieces.” - -So they washed her face again, and powdered it up; they straightened her -hair and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress, and got her bows and -ribbons in order, and took her down stairs to where Aunt Nannie was -waiting, grim and resolute—a double force of chaperones for this -emergency! - -You can imagine, perhaps, the excitement when they reached the -club-house; how the whisper went round, and the swains crowded in the -doorway to wait for her. The younger ones cheered when she entered—“Hi, -yi! Whoop la! Miss Sylvia.” They came jumping and capering across the -ball-room floor—one of them tearing a great palmetto-leaf from the -decorations on the wall, and performing a wonderful, sprawling salaam -before her. “I’m the King of the Cannibal Islands!” he proclaimed. “Will -you be my Queen, Miss Sylvia?” Several others locked arms and executed a -cake-walk, by way of manifesting their delight. The dance of the -country-club was turned into a reception in her honor. They worshipped -her for having come—it took nerve, by George, and nerve was the thing -they admired. And then how lovely she was—how perfectly, unutterably -lovely! Just a little more suffering like this, and she would be ready -to be carried up in a chariot of fire and set among the seraphim! - -Of course, in the face of such a welcome, it was unthinkable that she -should not carry the thing through triumphantly. In the refreshment-room -were egg-nog and champagne-punch, and she drank enough to keep her in a -glow, to carry her along upon wings of excitement. One by one her old -sweethearts came to claim a dance with her, and one by one they caused -her to understand that hope was springing eternal in their breasts. She -found herself so busy keeping them in order that life seemed quite as it -had always been in Castleman County. - -Save for one important circumstance. There had come a new element into -its atmosphere—something marvellously stimulating, transcending and -overshadowing all that had been before. Sylvia found out about it little -by little; the first hint coming from old Mrs. Tagliaferro—the General’s -wife, you may remember. She had come to Sylvia’s _début_ party, hobbling -with a gold-headed cane; but now, the General having died, she had -thrown away her cane, and chaperoned her great-grandchildren at dances, -because otherwise people would think she was getting old. She shook a -sprightly finger at the belle of the evening, and demanded, “What’s this -I hear, my child, about your latest conquest? I always knew you’d be -satisfied with nothing less than a duke!” Sylvia’s face clouded, and the -other went on her way with a knowing cackle. “Oh, you can’t fool me with -your haughty looks!” - -And then came Mabel Taylor, a girl who had been a hopeless wallflower in -her early days, and had been saved because Sylvia took pity upon her, -and compelled men to ask her to dance. Now she was Sylvia’s jealous -rival; and greeting her in the dressing-room she whispered, “Sylvia, is -he really in love with you?” - -“When Sylvia asked, “Who?” the other replied, “Oh, it’s a secret, is -it!” - -The girl perceived that she must take some line at once. “Are you really -going to marry him?” asked Charlie Peyton, with despair in his voice. -“We can’t stand that sort of competition!” protested Harvey Richards. -“We shall have to have a protective tariff, Miss Sylvia!” (Harvey, as -you may recall, was a steel manufacturer.) - -The thing had got upon Sylvia’s nerves. “Are you so completely awed by -that man?” she demanded, in a voice of intense irritation. - -“Awed by him?” echoed Harvey. - -“Why don’t you at least mention his name? You are the fourth person -who’s talked to me about him to-night and hasn’t dared to utter his -name. I believe it’s not customary for Kings to use their family names, -but they have Christian names, at least.” - -“Why, Miss Sylvia!” exclaimed the other. - -“Let us give him a title,” she pursued, savagely. “King Douglas the -First, let us say!” And imagine the seven pairs of swift wings which -that saying took unto itself! She called him a King! King Douglas the -First! She referred to him as Royalty—she made fun of him as openly and -recklessly as that! “What sublimity!” exclaimed her admirers. “What a -pose!” retorted her rivals. - -But even so, they could not but envy her the pose, and the consistency -with which she adhered to it. She could not be brought to discuss the -King—whether he was in love with her, whether he had asked her to marry -him, whether he had come South on her account; nor did she show any -particular signs of being impressed by him—as if she really did not -consider him imposing, or especially elegant, or in any way unusual. Oh, -but they were a haughty lot, those Castlemans—and Sylvia was the -haughtiest of them all! The country-club began to revise its estimates -of Knickerbocker culture, and to remember that, after all, the only real -blood in America was in the South. - - - § 8 - -The next afternoon came Harriet Atkinson, to bid Sylvia farewell, and -incidentally to congratulate her upon her triumph. After they had -chatted for a while, she put her hand upon her friend’s, and remarked in -a serious tone, “Sunny, I’ve had a letter from Frank Shirley.” - -She felt the hand quiver in hers, and she pressed it more firmly. “He -wanted to explain things to me,” she said. - -“What did he say?” asked Sylvia, in a faint voice. - -But Harriet did not answer. “I wrote to him,” she continued, “that I -declined to have anything to do with the matter.” Seeing her friend’s -lip beginning to tremble, she added, “Sunny, I did it for your own -good—believe me. I don’t want you to open up things with that man -again.” - -“Why not, Harriet?” - -“After what’s happened, you ought to know that your people would never -stand for it—there’d surely be some kind of a shooting-scrape. And even -supposing that you got away with him—what sort of an existence would you -have? Frank Shirley is no money-maker, and somehow I don’t seem to feel -that you were cut out for cottage-life.” - -She stopped and fixed her gaze upon her friend. “Sunny,” she said, “I -want you to marry the other man.” Then, as Sylvia started—“Don’t ask me -what other man. I’m no Mabel Taylor.” - -Sylvia perceived that her words were being cherished these days. -“Harriet,” she exclaimed in an agitated voice, “I can’t endure Douglas -van Tuiver.” - -“Now, Sunny, I want you to listen to me. This may be the last chance -I’ll have to talk to you—I’m going off to-morrow, to settle down to -domestic virtue. I want to give it to you straight—to take the place of -your Aunt Lady in this crisis. You fall in love at first sight, and it -brings you wonderful thrills, and you marry on the strength of it—and -then in a year or two the thrills are gone, and where are you? Take my -advice, Sunny, there’s a whole lot more in life than this young-love -business. Try to look ahead a little and realize the truth about -yourself. If ever there was a creature born to be a sky-lark, it’s you; -and here’s a man who could take you out and give you a chance to spread -your wings. For God’s sake, Sunny, don’t throw the chance away, and -settle down to be a barnyard fowl here in Castleman County.” - -“Harriet!” cried Sylvia, frantically, “I tell you I can’t endure the -man!” - -“I know, Sunny—but that’s just nonsense. You’re in love with one man, -and of course it sets you wild to think of another. But women can get -used to things; and one doesn’t have to be too intimate with one’s -husband. The man is dead in love with you, and so you’d always be able -to manage him. I told you that about Beau—and I can assure you I’ve -found it a convenient arrangement. From what I can make out, Mr. van -Tuiver isn’t a bad sort at all—he seems to have charmed everybody down -here. He’s not bad-looking, and he certainly has wonderful manners. He -can go anywhere in the world, and if he had you to manage him and do -things with him—really, Sunny, I can’t see what more you could want! -Certainly it’s what your family wants—and after all, you’ll find it’s -nice to be able to please your people when you marry. I know how you -despise money, and all that—but, Sylvia, there aren’t many fortunes made -out of cotton planting these days, and if you could hear poor Beau tell -about what his folks have been through, you’d understand that family -pride without cash is like mustard without meat!” - -So Harriet went on. She was a sprightly young lady, and generally able -to hold her audience; but after several minutes of this exhortation, she -stopped and asked, “Sunny, what are you thinking about?” - -And Sylvia, her face grown suddenly old with grief, caught her by the -hand. “Oh, Harriet,” she whispered, “tell me the truth—do you think I -ought to hear his explanation?” - - - § 9 - -There were more dances and entertainments; and each time, of course, it -was harder for Sylvia to escape. She had been to one, and so people -would expect her at the next. There was always somebody who would be -hurt if she refused, and there was always that dreadful phenomenon -called “people”—it would say that the task had been too much for her, -that she was still under the spell of the man who had flaunted her. So -evening after evening Sylvia would choke back her tears, and drink more -coffee, and go forth and pretend to be happy. - -It was at the third of these entertainments that she met Douglas van -Tuiver. No one had told her of his return—she had no warning until she -saw him enter the room. She had to get herself together and choose her -course of action, with the eyes of the whole company upon her. For this -was the meeting about which Castleman County had been gossiping and -speculating for weeks—the rising of the curtain upon the second act of -the thrilling drama! - -He was his usual precise and formal self; unimpeachably correct, and yet -set apart by a something—a reserve, a dignity. This extended even to his -costume, which tolerated no casual wrinkle, no presumptuous speck. There -was always just a slight difference between van Tuiver’s attire and that -of other men—and somehow you knew that this was the difference between -the best and the average. - -It seemed strange to Sylvia to see him here, in her old environment; -strange to compare him with her own people. She realized that she would -have to treat him differently now, for he was a stranger, a guest. She -discovered also a difference in him. He may have been touched by the -change he saw in her; at any rate he was very gentle, and very cautious. -He asked for a dance, and promised that he would not ask for more. To -her great surprise he kept the promise. - -“Miss Sylvia,” he said, when they strolled out after the dance, “may I -call you Miss Sylvia, as they all seem to here? I want to explain -something, if you will let me. I’m afraid that my being here will seem -to you an impertinence. I hope you will accept my apology. When I got -back to Cambridge I learned from your cousin what—what the news would -mean to you; and I came because I thought perhaps I might help. It was -absurd, I suppose—but I didn’t know. Then, when I got here, I did not -dare to ask to see you. I don’t know now if you will send me away——” - -He stopped. “I am sure, Mr. van Tuiver,” she said, quietly, “you have a -perfect right to stay here if you wish.” - -“No right, Miss Sylvia, but the right you give me!” he exclaimed. “I -won’t take refuge in quibbles. I thought that if I promised not to -bother you, and really kept the promise—if I never asked to see you -unless you desired it——” - -It was not easy to send him away upon those terms. She did not see what -good it would do him to stay, but she refrained from asking the -question. He paused—perhaps to make sure that she would not ask. “Miss -Sylvia,” he continued, finally, “I am afraid you will laugh at me—but I -want to be near you, I don’t want to be anywhere else. I want to see the -world you belong in; I want to know your relatives and your friends—your -home, the places you go to—everything. I want to hear people talk about -you. And at the same time I’m uncomfortable, because I know you dislike -me, and I’m afraid I’ll anger you, just by being here. But if you send -me away—you see, I don’t know where to go——” - -He stopped, and there was a long silence. “You are missing your -examinations,” she said, at last. - -“I don’t care anything about Harvard,” he replied. “I’ve lost all -interest—I shall never go back.” - -“But how about the reforms you were going to work for? Have you lost -interest in them?” - -He hesitated. “They’ve all—don’t you see?” He stopped, embarrassed. “The -movement’s gone to pieces.” - -“Oh!” said Sylvia, and felt a slow fire of shame mounting in her cheeks. -It had not occurred to her to think of the plight of the would-be -revolutionists of the “Yard” after their candidate had landed himself in -jail. - -They turned to go in, and van Tuiver asked, timidly, “You won’t send me -away, Miss Sylvia?” - -“I wish,” she answered, “that you would not put the burden of any such -decision upon me.” And so the matter rested, van Tuiver apparently -content with what he had gained. Sylvia’s next partner claimed her, and -she did not see “King Douglas the First” again; a circumstance which, -needless to say, was duly noted by Castleman County, to its great -mystification. Could it be that rumor was mistaken—that he was not -really after Sylvia at all? Could it be that her flouting of “Royalty” -was a common case of “sour grapes”? - - - § 10 - -Sylvia would not be content to drift and suffer indefinitely. It was not -her nature to give up and acknowledge failure, but to make the best of -things. Her thoughts turned to those in her own home, and how she could -help them. - -All through the tragedy she had been aware of her father, moving about -the house like a ghost, silent, wrung with grief; her heart bled for the -suffering she had caused him. Her chief thought was to make it up to -him, to be cheerful and busy for his sake—to put him into the place in -her heart which Frank Shirley had left empty. After all, he was the one -man she could really trust—the one who was good and true and generous. - -She sought him out one night, while the light was burning in his office. -She drew up a chair and sat close to him, so that she could look into -his eyes. “Papa,” she said, “I’ve been thinking hard—and I want to tell -you, I’m going to try to be good.” - -“You are always good, my child,” he declared. - -“I have been selfish and heedless. But now I’m going to think about -other people—about you most of all. I want to do the things I used to be -happy doing with you. Let us begin to-morrow and take care of our roses, -and have beautiful flowers again. Won’t that be nice, Daddy?” - -There were tears in his eyes. “Yes, dear,” he said. - -“And then I must begin and read to you. I know you are using your eyes -too much, and mine are young. And Papa—this is the principal thing—I -want you to let me help you with the accounts, to learn to be of some -use to you in business ways. No, you must not put me off, because I -know—truly I know.” - -“What do you know, dear?” he asked, smiling. - -“I know you work too hard, and that you have things to worry you, and -that you try to hide them from me. I know how many bills there are, and -how everybody wastes money, and never thinks of you. I’ve done it -myself, and now it’s Celeste’s turn—she must have everything, and be -spared every care, and write checks whenever she pleases. Papa, if it’s -true that this year’s crop is ruined, you’ll have to borrow money—” - -“My child!” he began, protestingly. - -“I know—you don’t want me to ask. But see, Papa—if I married, I’d have -to know about my husband’s affairs, and help him, wouldn’t I? And now -that I shall never marry—yes, I mean that, Papa. I want you not to try -to marry me off any more, but to let me stay at home and be a help to -you and Mamma.” - -The other was shrewd enough to humor her. They would get to work at the -roses in the morning, and they would take up Alexander H. Stephens’ -Confederate History without delay; also Sylvia might take the bills as -they came in each month, and find out who had ordered what, and prevent -the tradesmen from charging for the same thing twice over. But of -course, he did not tell her any of his real worries, nor let her see his -bank-books and accounts; nor could he quite see his way to promise that -Aunt Nannie should let her alone while she settled into old-maidenhood. - -Aunt Nannie came round the next morning, as it happened. Sylvia did not -see her, being up to the wrists in black loam in the rose-garden; but -she learned the purpose of the visit at lunchtime. “Sylvia,” said her -mother, “do you think it’s decent for us to go much longer without -inviting Mr. van Tuiver over here?” - -“Do you think he wants to come?” asked Sylvia, with a touch of her old -mischief. - -“Your Aunt Nannie seems to think so,” was the reply—given quite naïvely. -“I wrote to ask him to dinner. I hope you won’t mind.” - -Sylvia said that she would find some way to make the occasion tolerable. -And she found a quite unique way. It was one of her times for -bitterness, when she hated the world, and especially the male animals -upon it, and herself for a fool for not having known about them. It -chanced to be the same day of the week that she had prepared for Frank’s -coming, and had introduced him to the family with so many tremblings and -agonies of soul. So now, when she came to dress, she picked out the gown -she had worn that evening, and had them bring her a bunch of the same -kind of roses: which seemed to her a perfectly diabolical piece of -cynicism—like to the celebrating of a “black mass”! - -She descended, radiant and lovely, in a mood of somewhat terrible -gaiety. She laughed and all but sang at the dinner-table; she joked with -van Tuiver, and flouted him outrageously—and in the next breath charmed -and delighted him, to the bewilderment of the family, who knew nothing -about her adventures with Royalty, and the various strange moods to -which its presence drove her. - -In the course of that meal she told him a story—one of the wildest and -most wonderful of her stories. So at least it seemed to me, who for -years have been longing for a poet to take it up and make a ballad of -it—a real American ballad! It is curious, but I can hear the very rhyme -and rhythm of that ballad, which I cannot write. I wonder if I may not -awaken in some grey dawn, and find it all complete, singing itself in my -mind! - -The story of the burning of “Rose Briar,” it was. “Rose Briar” was the -old home of one of the Peytons, which had stood for three generations on -a high bluff on the river-bank a mile or so from Sylvia’s home. It had -the largest and most beautiful ball-room in the county, and was a centre -of continuous hospitality. One night had come a telephone-message to the -effect that it was on fire, and the neighbors gathered from miles -around; on a wild night, with a gale blowing and the whole roof and -upper part of the house in flames, they saw that the place was doomed. - -And there was the splendid ball-room, in which they and their fathers -and their grandfathers had celebrated so many festivities! “One last -dance!” cried the young folks, and in they trooped. The servants were -trying to get the piano out, but the master of the house himself stopped -them—what was a piano in comparison to a romantic thrill? So one played, -and the rest danced—danced while the fire roared deafeningly in the -stories above them, and creeping veils of smoke gathered about their -heads. They danced like mad creatures, laughing, singing in chorus. -Eddying gusts of flame poured in at the windows, and still they sang— - - “When you hear dem bells go ting-a-ling-a-ling, - All join hands and sweetly we will sing— - There’ll be a hot time in the old town to-night!” - -And so on, until there came a crashing of rafters above them, and -showers of cinders and burning wood through the windows. Then they fled, -and gathered in a group upon the lawn, and watched the roof of their -pleasure-house fall in, sending a burst of flame and sparks to the sky. - -And here, thought Sylvia, was the roof of her pleasure-house falling in! -There was something terrifying in the symbol; the house of civilization -was falling in, and people were dancing, dancing! “Don’t you feel that, -Mr. van Tuiver?” she asked. “It seems to me sometimes that I can see the -world going to destruction before my eyes, and people don’t know about -it, they don’t care about it. They are dancing, drunk with dancing! On -with the dance!” - -She laughed, a trifle hysterically, for her nerves were near the -breaking point. Then she happened to look towards her sister Celeste, -and caught a strange look in her eyes. She took in the meaning of it in -an instant—Celeste was conscious of the presence of Royalty, and shocked -by this display of levity upon a solemn occasion! “Sister, how _dare_ -you?” the look seemed to say; and the message gave a new fillip to the -mad steeds of Sylvia’s fancy. “Never mind, Chicken!” she laughed. -(“Chicken” was a childhood nickname, which, needless to say, was -infuriating to a young lady soon to make her _début_.) “Never mind, -Chicken! The roof will last till you’ve had your dance!” - -And then, the meal at an end, Sylvia took her guest into the library. -She put him in the same chair that Frank had occupied, and turned on the -same lights upon her loveliness; she took her seat, and looked at him -once, and smiled alluringly—and then suddenly looked away, and bit her -lip until it bled, and sprang up and fled from the room, and rushed -upstairs and flung herself upon her bed, sobbing, choking with her -grief. - - - § 11 - -There were ups and downs like this. The next day, of course, Sylvia was -ashamed of her behavior; she had promised to be happy, and not to -distress her people—and this was the way she kept her promise. She began -to make new resolutions, and to think of ways of atoning. She took her -father out into the garden, and pretended deep interest in the new -cinnamon-roses. She spent a couple of hours going over his old -check-stubs and receipted bills, and with evidence thus discovered went -into town and made a row with a tradesman, and saved her father a couple -of hundred dollars. - -Then, after lunch, she took him for a drive behind the new pony which -Uncle Mandeville had given her. She got him out into the country, and -then opened up on him in unexpected fashion. “Papa, it isn’t possible -for people like us to economize, is it?” - -“Not very much, my child,” he answered smiling. “Why?” - -“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “It’s all wrong—but I don’t know what to -do about it. You spent so much money on me; I didn’t want it, but I -didn’t realize it till it was too late. And now comes Celeste’s turn, -and you have to spend as much on her, or she’ll be jealous and angry. -And Peggy and Maria will see what Celeste gets, and they will demand -their turn. And the Baby—he’s smashing his toys now, and in a few years -he’ll be smashing windows, and in a few more he’ll be gambling like -Clive and Harley. And you can’t do anything about any of it!” - -“My child,” he said, “I don’t want you to worry about such things——” - -“No, you want to do all the worrying yourself. But, Papa, I have to make -my life of some use. Since I can’t earn money, I’ve been thinking that -perhaps the most sensible thing would be for me to marry some rich man, -and then help all my family and friends.” - -“Sylvia,” protested the Major, “I don’t like one of my daughters to have -such thoughts in her mind. I don’t want a child of mine to marry for -money—there is no need of it, there never will be!” - -“Not while you can sit up all night and worry over accounts. But some -day you won’t be able to, Papa. I can see that you’re under a strain, -and yet I can’t get you to let me help you. If you make sacrifices for -me, why shouldn’t I make them for you?” - -“Not that kind of a sacrifice, my child. It’s a terrible thing for a -woman to marry for money.” - -“Do you really think so, Papa? So many women do it. Are they all bad, -and are they all unhappy?” - -Thus Sylvia—trying to do her duty, and keep her mind occupied. They got -back home, and she found new diversions—Castleman Lysle had been feeding -himself in the kitchen, and had been picked up black in the face with -convulsions. This, you understand, was one of the features of life at -Castleman Hall; one baby had been lost that way, since which time “Miss -Margaret” always fainted when it occurred. As poor Aunt Varina had not -the physical strength for such emergencies, Sylvia had to get a tub of -hot water, and hold the child in it—while some one else held a spoon in -his mouth, in order that he might not chew his tongue to pieces! - -Thus the afternoon passed busily, and in the evening was the spring -dance of the Young Matrons’ Cotillion Club. Sylvia absolutely had to go -to that, in order to dance with Douglas van Tuiver and atone for her -rudeness. She had promised it by way of pacifying Aunt Nannie; and also -her father had made plans to accompany her again. - -So she put on a new “cloth of silver” gown which she had bought in New -York, and drank a “toddy” of the Major’s mixing, and sallied forth upon -his arm. There were lights and music, happy faces, cheery greetings—so -she was uplifted, dreaming of happiness again. And then came the most -dreadful collapse of all. - -She had strolled out upon the veranda with Stanley Pendleton. Feeling -chilly, she sent her partner in for a wrap; and then suddenly came a -voice—_his_ voice! - -If it had been his ghost, Sylvia could not have been more startled. She -whirled about and stared, and saw him—standing in the semidarkness of -the garden, close to the railing of the veranda. It had rained that day, -and the roads were deep in mire, and he had ridden far. His clothing was -splashed and his hair in disarray; as for his face—never had Sylvia seen -such grief on a human countenance. - -“Sylvia!” he whispered. “Sylvia!” She could only gaze at him, dumb. -“Sylvia, give me one minute! I have come here to tell you——” - -He stopped, his voice breaking with intensity of feeling. “Oh!” she -gasped. “You ought not to be here!” - -“I had to see you!” he exclaimed. “There was no other way——” - -But he got no farther. There was a step behind Sylvia, and she turned, -and at the same moment heard the terrible voice of her father—“What does -this mean?” - -She sprang to him with a quick cry. “Papa!” She caught his arm with her -hands, trying to stop what she feared he might do. “No, Papa, _no_!” For -one moment the Major stood staring at the apparition in the darkness. - -She could feel him trembling with fury. “Sir, how dare you approach my -daughter?” - -“Papa, _no_!” exclaimed Sylvia, again. - -“Sir, do you wish to make it necessary for me to shoot you?” - -Then Frank answered, his voice low and vibrant with pain. “Major -Castleman, I would be grateful to you.” - -The other glared at him for a moment; then he said, “If you wish to die, -sir, choose some way that will not drag my daughter to disgrace.” - -Frank’s gaze had turned to the girl. “Sylvia,” he exclaimed, “I tell you -that I went to that place——” - -“Stop!” almost shouted the Major. - -“Major Castleman,” said Frank, “Allow me to speak to your daughter. It -has been——” - -Sylvia was clutching her father in terror. She knew that he had a -weapon, and was on the point of using it; she knew also that she had not -the physical force to prevent him. She cried hysterically, “Go! Go -away!” - -And Frank looked at her—a last look, that she never forgot all the days -of her life. “You mean it, Sylvia?” he asked, his voice breaking. - -“I mean it!” she answered. - -“Forever?” - -For the smallest part of a second she hesitated. “Forever!” commanded -her father; and she echoed, “Forever!” Frank turned, without another -word, and was gone in the darkness; and Sylvia fell into her father’s -arms, convulsed with an agony that shook her frame. - - - § 12 - -They got her home, where her first action, in spite of her exhaustion, -was to insist upon seeing her Uncle Mandeville. So determined, so -vehement she was, that it was necessary to rout the worthy gentleman out -from a poker-game at two o’clock in the morning. There had been other -witnesses of what Frank had done, and Sylvia knew that her uncle must -hear; so she told him herself, with her arms about him, clinging to him -in frenzy, and beseeching him to give her his word of honor that he -would not carry out his threat against Frank Shirley. - -It was not an easy word to get; she would probably have failed, had it -not been for the Major. He could see the force in her argument that a -shooting-affair would only serve to publish the matter to the world, and -make it seem more serious. After all, from the family’s point of view, -the one thing to be desired was to make certain that there would be no -further communication between the two. And Sylvia was willing to assure -them of that, she declared. She rushed to her desk, and with trembling -fingers wrote a note to “Mr. Frank Shirley,” informing him that the -scene which had just occurred had been intolerable to her, and -requesting him to perform her one last service—to write a note to her -father to the effect that he would make no further attempt to -communicate with her. The Major, after some discussion, decided that he -would accept this as a settlement; and he being the elder brother, his -word was law with Mandeville—at least so long as Mandeville was sober. - -I remember Sylvia’s account of the state of exhaustion in which she -found herself after this ordeal; how for two days she had the sensation -that her mind was breaking up. Yet—a circumstance worth noting—at no -time did she blame those who had put her through this ordeal. She could -not blame the men of her family; if any one were at fault, it was -herself, for being at the mercy of her emotions, and capable of a secret -longing to have parleyings with a man who had dragged her name in the -mire. You see, Sylvia believed in her heritage. She was proud of the -Castlemans—and apparently you could not have rare, aristocratic virtues -without also having terrifying vices. If one’s men-folk got drunk and -shot people, one’s consolation was that at least they did it in a bold -and striking and “high-spirited” way. - -You will perhaps find yourself impatient with the girl at this stage of -her story. I recall my own frantic protests while I listened. What a -cruel, needless tragedy! I cried out for the evidence of some gleam of -sense on the part of any one person concerned. Surely Sylvia, knowing -Frank, must have come to doubt that he could have been unfaithful to -her! Surely, with the hints she got at that meeting, she must have -realized that there was something more to be said! Surely he, on his -part, would have found some way of getting an interview with her, or at -least of sending an explanation by some friend! Surely he would never -have given up until he had done that! - -I have claimed for Sylvia the possession of clear-sightedness. She -displayed it when it was a question of revising her religion, she -displayed it when it was a question of managing her family, and -obtaining permission to be engaged to a convict’s son. But, if you look -to see her display anything of that sort in the present emergency, you -will look in vain. Sylvia could be bold in a matter of theology, she -could be bold in a matter of love, but she could not possibly be bold in -a matter of a house of prostitution. If I were to give you illustrations -of the completeness of her ignorance upon the subject of sex, you would -simply not be able to believe what I told; and not only was she -ignorant, she could not conceive that it was possible for her to be -other than ignorant. She could not conceive that it was possible for a -pure-minded girl to talk about such a subject with any human being, man -or woman. - -I doubt very much, if it had come to an actual test, whether Sylvia -would have been capable of marrying against her family’s will. She had -opposed them vehemently, but this was because she knew that she was -right, and that they, in their inmost hearts, knew it also. The Major -and “Miss Margaret” were good and generous-hearted people, and they -could not sincerely condemn Frank Shirley for his father’s offense. But -how different it was now! In the present matter she faced the phalanx of -the family, not on an open field where she could manœuvre and outwit -them—but in a place of darkness and terror, where she dared not stir a -foot alone. - -And let me tell you also that you mistake Frank Shirley if you count -upon the mere physical fact that he could have got an explanation to -Sylvia. It was not easy for him to explain about such matters to the -woman he loved; and if you think it was easy, you are a modern, -matter-of-fact person, not understanding the notions of an old-fashioned -Southerner. The simple fact was that when Frank wrote to Harriet -Atkinson, to ask her to hear his plea, he felt that he was doing -something desperate and unprecedented; and when Harriet wrote, coldly -refusing to have anything to do with the matter, he felt that she had -rebuked him for his boldness. As for the last effort he had made to see -Sylvia, it was the act of a man driven frantic by love—a man willing to -sacrifice his life, and even his self-respect. I have portrayed Frank -poorly if I have not made you realize that from the first hour he -approached Sylvia with a sense of inferiority and of guilt; that he had -remained her lover against the incessant protests of his pride. People -are making money rapidly these days in the South, and so becoming like -us “Yankees”; yet it will be a long time, I think, before a Southerner -without money will make love to a rich woman without feeling in his -heart that he is acting the knave. - - - § 13 - -There came another long struggle for Sylvia, another climb out of the -pit. For the sake of her father, she could not delay; as soon as she was -able to move about, she was out among her roses again, and reading -Alexander Stephens in the evenings. Within a week she had been to a -card-party and a picnic, and also had received a call from Douglas van -Tuiver. - -Never before had Sylvia worn such an ethereal aspect; he was gentle, -even reverent, in his manner to her. He had a particular reason for -calling to see her, he said. He owned a yacht, considered quite a -beautiful vessel; it was now in commission, but idle, and he had taken -the liberty of ordering it to the Southern coast, and wished to beg her -to use it to bring the color back into her cheeks. She might take her -Aunt Varina, her sister—a whole party, if she chose—and cruise up the -coast, to Maine and the St. Lawrence, or over in the North Sea—wherever -her fancy suggested. He would go with her and take charge, if she would -permit—or he would stay behind, and be happy in the knowledge that she -was recovering her health. - -Of course, Sylvia could not accept such a favor; she insisted that it -was impossible, in spite of all his arguments and urgings. She thanked -him so cordially, however, that he went away quite happy. - -Then came Mrs. Chilton, and there was a conclave of the ladies. Why -should she not accept the offer? It was the very thing she needed to -divert her mind, and get her out of this disgraceful state. - -“Aunt Nannie,” cried the girl, “how can you think of wanting me to -accept such a gift from a comparative stranger? It must cost hundreds of -dollars a month to run such a yacht!” - -“About five thousand dollars a month, my dear,” said the other, quietly. - -Sylvia was aghast; once in a while even a fiery revolutionist like -herself was awe-stricken by the actuality of Royalty. “I don’t want -things like that,” she said, at last. “I want to stay quietly at home -and help Papa.” - -“You need a change,” declared the other. “So long as you are here you -are never safe from that evil man; and anyway you are surrounded by -reminders of him. A yachting-trip would force you to put your mind on -other things. The sea-air would do you good; and if you took Celeste -with you—think what a treat for her!” - -“Oh, Sylvia, please do!” cried Celeste. - -Sylvia looked at her sister. “You’d like to go?” - -“Oh, how can you ask?” she replied. “It would be heaven!” - -Sylvia said that she would think it over. But in reality she wanted to -think about something else. She waited until they left her alone with -her sister, and then she said, “You like Mr. van Tuiver, don’t you?” - -“How could I fail to like him?” asked Celeste. - -The other tried to draw her out. Why did she like him? He had such -beautiful manners, such dignity—there were no loose ends about him. He -had been everywhere, met everybody of consequence; compared with him the -men at home seemed like country-fellows. It was that indescribable thing -called elegance, said Celeste, gravely. She could not understand her -sister’s attitude at all; she thought Sylvia treated van Tuiver -outrageously, and her eyes flashed a danger-signal as she said it. It -was a woman’s right to reject a man’s advances if she chose to; but she -ought not to humiliate him, when his only offense was admiring her to -excess. - -“I only wish it was you he admired,” said Sylvia, who was in a gentle -mood. - -“No chance of that,” remarked the other, with a touch of bitterness in -her voice. “He has no eyes or ears for anybody else when you are about.” - -“I’m going to try to lend him eyes and ears,” responded Sylvia. For that -was the idea that had occurred to her—van Tuiver must be persuaded to -transfer his interest to Celeste! Celeste would marry him; she would -marry him without the least hesitation or distress; and then the elder -sister might settle down with her family and her rose-gardens and her -Confederate History! - - - § 14 - -Sylvia became quite excited over this scheme. When van Tuiver asked -permission to call again, she was glad to say yes; but she kept Celeste -with her, guiding the conversation so as to show off her best qualities. -But alas, “Little Sister” had no qualities to be shown off when van -Tuiver was about! She was so much impressed by him that she trembled -with stage fright. Usually a bright and vivacious girl, although -somewhat hard and shallow, she was now dumb, abject, a booby! Sylvia -raged at her inwardly, and when van Tuiver had taken his departure, she -said, “Celeste, how can you expect to impress a man if you let him see -you are afraid to breathe in his presence?” - -Tears of humiliation came into her sister’s eyes. “What’s the use of -talking about my impressing him? Can’t you see that he pays no more -attention to me than if I were a doll?” - -“_Make_ him pay attention to you!” cried the other. “Shock him, hurt -him, make him angry—do anything but put yourself under his feet!” She -went on to give a lecture on that awe-inspiring phenomenon, the Harvard -manner; trying to prove to her sister that it was an idol with feet of -clay, which would topple if one attacked it resolutely. She told the -story of her own meeting with King Douglas the First, and how she had -been able to subdue him with cheap effrontery. But she soon discovered -that her arguments were thrown away upon Celeste, who was simply shocked -by her story, and had no more the desire than she had the power to -subdue van Tuiver. At first Sylvia had thought it was mere awe of his -millions, but gradually she realized that it was something far more -serious—something quite tragic. Celeste had fallen in love with Royalty! - -But still Sylvia could not give up the struggle. It would have been such -a marvelous solution of her problem! She let van Tuiver call as often as -he wanted to; but she became, all at once, a phenomenon of sisterly -affection. She took Celeste horseback riding with them—and Celeste rode -well. If van Tuiver asked to go automobiling, she found shrewd excuses -for having Celeste go also. But in the end she had to give up—because of -the “English system.” Van Tuiver did not want Celeste, and was so -brutally unaware of her existence that Celeste came home with tears of -humiliation in her eyes. Sylvia went off by herself and shed tears also; -she hated van Tuiver and his damnable manners! - -She realized suddenly to what extent he was boring her. He came the next -day, and spent the better part of an hour talking to her about his -experiences among the elect in various parts of the world. He had been -shooting last fall upon the estates of the Duke of Something in -Scotland. You went out in an automobile, and took a seat in an -arm-chair, and had several score “beaters” drive tame pheasants towards -you; you had two men to load your guns, and you shot the birds as they -rose; but you could not shoot more than so many hundred of a morning, -because the recoil of the gun gave you a headache. The Duke had a couple -of guns which were something special—he valued them at a thousand -guineas the pair. - -“Mr. van Tuiver,” said the girl, suddenly, “there is something I want to -say to you. I have been meaning to say it for some time. I think you -ought not to stay here any longer.” - -His face lost suddenly its expression of complacency. “Why, Miss -Sylvia!” he exclaimed. - -“I want to deal with you frankly. If you are here for any reason not -connected with me, why all right; but if you are here on my account, I -ought not to leave you under any misapprehension.” - -He tried hard to recover his poise. “I had begun to hope”—he began. -“You—are you sure it is true?” - -“I am sure. You realize of course—it’s been obvious from the outset that -my Aunt Nannie has entered into a sort of partnership with you, to help -you persuade me to marry you. And of course there are others of my -friends—even members of my family, perhaps—who would be glad to have me -do it. Also, you must know that I’ve been trying to persuade myself.” -Sylvia lowered her eyes; she could not look at him as she said this. “I -thought perhaps it was my duty—the only useful thing I could do with my -life—to marry a rich man, and use his money to help the people I love. -So I tried to persuade myself. But it’s impossible—I could not, _could_ -not do it!” - -She paused. “Miss Sylvia,” he ventured, “can you be sure—perhaps if you -married me, you might——” - -“No!” she cried. “Please don’t say any more. I know you ought not to -stay! I could never marry you, and you are throwing away your time here. -You ought to go!” - -There was a silence. “Miss Sylvia,” he began, finally, “this is like a -death-sentence to me.” - -“I know,” she said, “and I’m sorry. But there’s no help for it. Putting -off only makes it worse for you.” - -“Don’t think about me,” he said. “I’ve no place to go, and nothing -better I can be doing. If you’ll let me stay, and try to be of some -service”— - -“No,” she declared, “you can be of no service. I want to be alone, with -my father and the people I love; and it is only distressing to me to see -you.” - -He rose, and stood looking at her, crestfallen. “That is all you have to -say to me, Miss Sylvia?” - -“That is all. If you wish to show your regard for me, you will go away -and never think of me again.” - - - § 15 - -Van Tuiver went away; but within a week he was back, writing Sylvia -notes to say that he must see her, that he only sought her friendship. -And then came Aunt Nannie, and there was a family conference—ending not -altogether to Sylvia’s advantage. Aunt Nannie took the same view as Mrs. -Winthrop, that one had no right to humiliate a man who carried such vast -responsibilities upon his shoulders. Sylvia recurred to her old phrase -“Royalty”—and was taken aback when her aunt wanted to know just what -were her objections to Royalty. Had she not often heard her Uncle -Mandeville say that there ought to be a king in America to counteract -the influence of Yankee demagogs? That rather took the wind out of -Sylvia’s sails; for she had a great respect for the political wisdom of -her uncles, and really could give no reason why a king might not be a -beneficent phenomenon. All she could reply was that she did not like -this particular king, and would not see him. When Aunt Nannie insisted -that van Tuiver had been a guest under her roof, and that Sylvia’s -action had been an unheard of discourtesy, the girl said that she was -willing to apologize, either to her aunt or to van Tuiver—but that -nothing could induce her to let him call again. - -King Douglas went off to Newport, where the family of Dorothy Cortlandt -had its granite cottage; and so for two months Sylvia enjoyed peace. She -read to her father, and played cards with him, and took him driving, -exercising her social graces to keep him from drinking too many toddies. -I could wish there were space to recite some of the comical little -dramas that were played round the good Major’s efforts to cheat himself -and his daughter, and exceed the number of toddies which his physician -allowed to him! - -Aunt Nannie being away at the coast, it was easier for the girl to avoid -social engagements, especially with the excuse that her father’s health -was poor, and his plantation duties engrossing. There had been an -overflow in the early spring, just at planting-time, and so there was no -cotton that year. Fences had been swept away, cattle drowned, and -negro-cabins borne off to parts unknown. The Major had three large -plantations, whose negroes must be kept over the year, just as if they -were working. Also there were small farms, rented to negro tenants who -had lost everything; they had to be taken care of—one must “hold on to -one’s niggers.” “Why don’t you let them raise corn?” van Tuiver had -inquired; to which the Major answered, “My negroes could no more raise -corn than they could raise ostriches.” - -So there was much money to be borrowed, and money was “tight.” Everybody -wanted it from the local banks, and as this was the second bad year, the -local banks were in an ungenerous mood. Worse than that, there were -troubles vaguely rumored from “Wall Street.” What this meant to Sylvia -was that her father sat up at night and worried over his books, and -could not be got to talk of his affairs. - -But what distressed her most was that there was no sign of any effort to -curtail the family’s expenditure. Aunt Varina and the children were at -the summer home in the mountains, and so there were two establishments -to be kept going. Also Celeste was giving house parties, and ordering -new things from New York, in spite of the fact that she had come home -from school with several trunkloads of splendor. The Major’s family all -signed his name to checks, and all these checks were like chickens which -came home to roost in the pigeon-holes in the office-desk. - -In the fall the Major’s health weakened under the strain, and the doctor -insisted that he must go away at all hazards. Uncle Mandeville had taken -a place at one of the Gulf Coast resorts, and Sylvia and her father were -urged to come there—just in time for the yachting regatta, wrote the -host. They came; and about two weeks later a great ocean-going yacht -steamed majestically into the harbor, and the dismayed Sylvia read in -the next morning’s paper that Mr. Douglas van Tuiver, who had been -cruising in the Gulf with a party of friends, had come to attend the -races! - -“I won’t see him!” she declared; and Uncle Mandeville, who was in -command here, backed her up, and offered to shoot the fellow if he -molested her. This, of course, was in fun, but Uncle Mandeville was -serious in his support of his niece, maintaining that the Castlemans -needed no Yankee princeling to buttress their fortunes. - -She fully meant not to see him. But he had brought allies to make sure -of her. That afternoon an automobile drew up at the door, and Sylvia, -who was on the gallery, saw a lady descending, waving a hand to her. She -stared, dumb-founded. It was Mrs. Winthrop! - -Mrs. Winthrop—clad in spotless white from hat to shoetips, looking -sunburned and picturesque, and surprisingly festive. No one was in sight -but Sylvia, and so she had a free field for her wizardry. She came -slowly up the gallery-steps, and took the outstretched hands in hers, -and gazed. How much she read in the pale, thin face—and what deeps of -feeling welled up in her! - -“Oh, let me help you!” she murmured. And nothing more. - -“Thank you!” said Sylvia at last. - -“My dryad!” Quick tears of sympathy started in the great lady’s eyes, -and came running down her sunburned cheeks, and had to be brushed away -with a tiny Irish lace handkerchief. - -“Believe me, Sylvia, I too have known grief!” she began, after a minute. -Sylvia was deeply touched; for what grief could be more fascinating than -that which lurked in the dream-laden eyes before her? She found herself -suddenly recalling an irreverent phrase of “Tubby” Bates’: “The -beautiful unhappy wife of a railroad-builder!” - -They sat down. “Sylvia,” said Mrs. Winthrop, “you need diversion. Come -out on the yacht!” - -“No,” she replied, “I don’t want to meet Mr. van Tuiver again.” - -“I appreciate your motives,” said the other. “But you may surely trust -to my discretion, Sylvia. Mr. van Tuiver has recovered himself, and -there is no longer any need for you to avoid him.” - -He was a much changed man, went on “Queen Isabella”; so chastened that -his best friends hardly knew him. He had become a most fascinating -figure, a sort of superior Werther; his melancholy became him. He had -been really admirable in his behavior, and Sylvia owed it to him to give -him a chance to show her that he could control himself, to show his -friends that she had not dismissed him with contempt. There was a -charming party on board the yacht; it included van Tuiver’s aunt, Mrs. -Harold Cliveden, of whom Sylvia had surely heard; also her niece, Miss -Vaillant, and Lord Howard Annersley, who was engaged to her. Sylvia had -probably not seen the accounts of this affair, but it was most romantic. -The girl pleaded that her father was ill and needed her. But he might -come too, said Mrs. Winthrop; the diversion would benefit him. So at -last Sylvia consented to go to lunch. - - - § 16 - -Van Tuiver came to fetch them on the following day. He looked his new -rôle of a leisure-class Werther, and acted up to it quite touchingly. He -was perfect in his attitude toward his guests, carefully omitting all -reference to personal matters, and confining his conversation to the -yachting-trip and the party on board—especially to Lord Howard. Sylvia -said that she had never met a Lord before, and it would seem like a -fairy-story to her. The other was careful to explain that Lord Howard -was not a fortune-hunter, but a friend of his. So Sylvia furbished up -her weapons—but put most of them away when she got on board, and found -out what a very commonplace young man his lordship was. - -It was necessary to extend a return invitation, so Uncle Mandeville took -the party automobiling along the coast, and spread a sumptuous -picnic-luncheon. Then the next day Sylvia let herself be inveigled on a -moonlight sailing-trip; and so it came about that she was cornered in -the bow of the boat, with van Tuiver at her side, declaring in trembling -accents that he had tried to forget her, that he could not live without -her, that if she did not give him some hope he would take his life. - -She was intensely annoyed, and answered him in monosyllables, and took -refuge with Lord Howard, who showed signs of forgetting that he was -already in the midst of a romance. She vowed that she would accept no -more invitations, and that van Tuiver would never deceive her in that -way again. This last with angry emphasis to Mrs. Winthrop, who, -perceiving that something had gone wrong, took her aside as the party -was breaking up. - -“Queen Isabella’s” lovely face showed intense distress. “Oh, these men!” -she cried. “Sylvia, what can we do with them?” And when Sylvia, taken -aback by this appeal, was silent, the other continued, pleadingly, “You -must be loyal to your sex, and help me! We all have to manage men!” - -“But what do you want me to do?” asked the girl. “Marry him?” - -She meant this for the extreme of sarcasm; and great was her surprise -when Mrs. Winthrop caught her hand and exclaimed, “My dear, I want you -to do just that!” - -“But then—what becomes of my fineness of spirit?” cried Sylvia, with -still more withering sarcasm. - -Said “Queen Isabella,” “The man loves you.” - -“I know—but I don’t love him.” - -“He loves you deeply, Sylvia. I think you will really have to marry -him.” - -“In spite of the fact that I don’t love him in the least?” - -The other smiled her gentlest smile. “I want you to let me come and talk -to you about these matters.” - -“But, Mrs. Winthrop, I don’t want to be talked to about marrying Mr. van -Tuiver!” - -“I want to explain things to you, Sylvia. You must grant me that -favor—please!” In the hurry of departure, Sylvia gave no reply, and the -other took silence for consent. - -By what device van Tuiver could have reconciled Mrs. Winthrop, Sylvia -could not imagine; but when the great lady called, the next afternoon, -she was as ardent on the one side as she had formerly been on the other. -She painted glowing pictures of the splendors which awaited the future -Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver. The courts of Europe would be open to her, her -life would be one triumphal pageant. Also, taking a leaf out of “Tubby” -Bates’ note-book, “Queen Isabella” discoursed upon the good that Sylvia -would be able to do with her husband’s wealth. - -This interview with Mrs. Winthrop was important for another reason; it -was the means of setting at rest what doubts were lurking in Sylvia’s -mind as to her treatment of Frank Shirley. The other evidently had the -matter in mind, for Sylvia needed only to allude to it, whereupon Mrs. -Winthrop proceeded, with the utmost tact and understanding, to give her -exactly the information she was craving. The dreadful story was surely -true—everybody at Harvard knew it. All that one heard in defense was -that it was a shame the story had been spread abroad; for there were -men, said Mrs. Winthrop, who did these shameful things in secret, and -had no remorse save when they were found out. Without saying it in plain -words, she caused Sylvia to have the impression that such evils were to -be found among men of low origin and ignominious destinies: a suggestion -which started in Sylvia a brand-new train of thought. Could it be that -_this_ was the basis of social discrimination—the secret reason why her -parents were so careful what men she met? It threw quite a new light -upon the question of college snobbery, if one pictured the club-men as -selected and set apart because of their chaste lives. It made quite a -difference in one’s attitude towards the “exclusiveness” of van -Tuiver—if one might think of him, as Mrs. Winthrop apparently did think -of him, as having been guarded from contamination, from the kind of -commonness to which Frank Shirley had permitted himself to stoop. - - - § 17 - -Van Tuiver of course wrote letters of apology; but Sylvia would not -answer them nor see him. As the yacht still lingered in the harbor, she -became restless, and was glad when the Major decided to return home to -the rose-gardens and Alexander Stephens. Soon afterwards she learned -that the yachting-party had returned to New York; but in a couple of -weeks “King Douglas” was at Aunt Nannie’s again, annoying her with his -letters and his importunities. - -By this time everybody in Castleman County knew the situation; it had -become a sort of State romance—or perhaps it would be better to say a -State scandal. Sylvia became aware of a new force, vaguer, but more -compelling even than that of the family—the power of public opinion. It -was all very well for a girl to have whims and to indulge them; to be -coquettish and wayward—naturally. But to keep it up for so long a time, -to carry the joke so far—well, it was unusual, and in somewhat -questionable taste. It was a fact that every person in Castleman County -shone by the reflected glory of Sylvia’s great opportunity; and -everybody felt himself—or more especially herself—cheated of this glory -by the girl’s eccentricity. You may take this for a joke, but let me -tell you that public opinion is a terrible agent, which has driven -mighty princes to madness, and captains of predatory finance to suicide. - -All this time Sylvia was thinking—thinking. Wherever she went, whatever -she did, she was debating one problem in her soul. As I don’t want -anyone to misunderstand her or despise her, I must try to tell, briefly -and simply, what were her thoughts. - -She had come to hate life. Everything that had ever been sweet to her -seemed to have turned to ashes in her mouth. The social game, for which -she had been trained with so much care and at so great expense, upon -which she had entered with such zest three years before—the game had -become a sordid mockery to her. It was a chase after men, an elaboration -of devices to gain and hold their attention. To be decked out and sent -forth to perform tricks—no, it was an utterly intolerable thing. - -Her whole being was one cry to stay at home with the people she loved. -Here were her true friends, who would always stand by her, who would be -a bulwark against the ugliness of life. A wonderful thing it was, after -all, the family; a kind of army of mutual defense against a hostile, -predatory world. “Life is a case of dog eat dog,” had been the words of -Uncle Mandeville. “You have to eat or be eaten.” And Uncle Mandeville -had seen so much of life! - -So the one high duty that Sylvia could see was to stand by and maintain -the family. And there were increasing signs that this family was in -peril. More and more plainly was worry to be read in the face of the -Major; there were even signs that his worry had infected others. -Curious, incredible as it might seem, “Miss Margaret” was trying to -economize! She wandered over her exquisite velvet carpets in a faded -last year’s gown, and a pair of rusty last year’s slippers; nor could -she be persuaded to purchase new—until the Major himself sent off an -order to her costumer in New Orleans! - -Also Aunt Varina had taken to fretting over the housekeeping -extravagances. So many idle negroes eating their heads off in the -kitchen! Such grocery and laundry bills, beyond all reason and sense! -The echoes of her protest reached even to the tradesmen in the town, who -heard with dismay that at Castleman Hall they were counting the -supplies, and going over the bills, and refusing to pay for goods which -had not been sent, or had been stolen by the negroes employed to deliver -them! - -“Aunt Mandy,” the black cook, had once been heard to declare that -Castleman Hall was not a home, but “a free hotel.” A hotel with great -airy rooms, huge four-poster beds, and quaint old “dressers” and -“armours” of hand-carved mahogany! No wonder the guests came trooping! -“We ought to move into one of the smaller houses on the plantation!” -declared Aunt Varina; and what a horror to have such an idea mentioned -in the family. Fear assailed “Miss Margaret”—what if the neighbors were -to hear of it? Everybody knew that there had been droughts and floods, -and somebody might suspect that these had touched the Castlemans! Mrs. -Castleman decided forthwith that it would be necessary to give a big -reception; and the moment this was announced came a cry from -Celeste—why, if her mother could give a reception, could she not have -the little “electric” for which she had begged all summer? - -Celeste was going back to Miss Abercrombie’s in a week or two. Going -back to Fifth Avenue and its shops—to open accounts at any of them she -chose, and sign her father’s name to checks, just as Sylvia had done. It -would have been a painful matter to curtail this privilege, for Sylvia -was the favorite daughter, and Celeste knew it, and was bitterly -resentful of every sign of favoritism. And yet the privilege was more -dangerous in the case of Celeste, who was careless to the point of -wickedness. You might see her step out of an expensive ball-gown at -night, and leave it a crumpled ring upon the floor until the maid hung -it up in the morning; you might see her kick off her tight, high-heeled -slippers, and walk about the room for hours in her stockinged feet—thus -wearing out a pair of new silk hose that had cost five dollars, and -kicking them to one side to be carried off by the negroes. Celeste would -permit nothing but silk upon her exquisite person, and was given to -lounging about in oriental luxuriance, while Peggy and Maria gazed at -her awe-stricken, as at some princess in a fairy-story book. Sylvia saw -with bewilderment that everywhere about her it was the evil example -which seemed to be prevailing. - - - § 18 - -Sylvia could not plan to stay at home and share in this plundering of -her father. She must marry; yet when it came to the question of -marrying, the one positive fact in her consciousness was that she could -never love any man. No matter how long she might wait, no matter how -much energy she might expend in hesitating and agonizing, sooner or -later she would give herself in marriage to some man whom she did not -love. And after all, there was very little choice among them, so far as -she could see. Some were more entertaining than others; but it was true -of everyone that if he touched her hand in token of desire, she shrunk -from him with repugnance. - -The time came when to her cool reason this shrinking wore the aspect of -a weakness. When so much happiness for all those she loved depended upon -the conquering of it, what folly not to conquer it! Here was the obverse -of that distrust of “blind passion” which they had taught her. Whether -it was an emotion towards or away from a man, was it a thing which -should dominate a woman’s life? Was it not rather a thing for her to -beat into whatever shape her good sense directed? - -Seated one day in her mother’s room, Sylvia asked, quite casually, -“Mamma, how often do women marry the men they love?” - -“Why, what makes you ask that?” inquired the other. - -“I don’t know, Mamma. I was just thinking.” - -“Miss Margaret” considered. “Not often, my child; certainly not, if you -mean their first love.” Then, after a pause, she added, “I think perhaps -it’s well they don’t. Most all those I know who married their first love -are unhappy now.” - -“Why is that, Mamma?” - -“They don’t seem able to judge wisely when they’re young and blinded by -passion.” “Miss Margaret” drifted into reminiscences—beginning with the -case of Aunt Varina, who was in the next room. - -“It seems such a terrible thing,” said Sylvia. “Love is—well, it makes -you want to trust it.” - -“Something generally happens,” replied the other. “A woman has to wait, -and in the end she marries for quite other reasons.” - -“And yet they manage to make out!” said the girl, half to herself. - -“Children come, dear. Children take their time, and they forget. I -remember so well your Uncle Barry’s wife—she visited us in her courtship -days, and she used to wake up in the middle of the night, and whisper to -me in a trembling voice, ‘Margaret, tell me—_shall_ I marry him?’ I -think she went to the altar without really having her mind made up; and -yet, you see, she’s one of the happiest women I know—they are perfectly -devoted to each other.” - -Sylvia went away to ponder these things. The next day Aunt Varina -happened to talk about her life-tragedy, and told Sylvia of the death of -her young love; and later on came Uncle Barry’s wife, traveling a -hundred miles for the sake of a casual conversation upon the state of -happiness vouchsafed to those who chose their husbands in accordance -with reason. All of which was managed with such delicacy and tact that -no one but an utterly depraved person like Sylvia would ever have -suspected that it was planned. - -There was one person from whom the girl hoped for an unworldly opinion; -that was the Bishop. She went to see him one day, and casually brought -up the subject of van Tuiver—a thing which was easy enough to do, since -the man was a guest in the house. - -“Sylvia,” said her uncle, at once, “why don’t you marry him?” - -The girl was astounded. “Why, Uncle Basil!” she exclaimed. “Would you -advise me to?” - -“Nothing would make me happier than the news that you had so decided.” - -Sylvia was at a loss for words. She had thought that here was one person -who would surely not be influenced by Royalty. “Tell me why,” she said. - -“Because, my child,” the Bishop answered, “he’s a Christian gentleman.” - -“Oh! So it’s that!” - -“Yes, Sylvia. You don’t know how often I have prayed that you might have -a religious man for a husband.” - -Sylvia said no more. Her thoughts flew back to Boston, to an incident -which had caused her amusement at the time. She had told “Tubby” Bates -that she would go motoring with van Tuiver on a Sunday morning; and the -answer was that on Sunday mornings van Tuiver passed the -collection-plate in a Very High Church. Bates went on to explain—in his -irreverent fashion—that van Tuiver’s great-uncle had been of the opinion -that the only hope for a young man with so much money was to turn him -over to the Lord; so for his grand-nephew’s head-tutor he had engaged a -clergyman recommended by an English bishop. And now here was another -bishop recommending van Tuiver as an instrument for the converting of -his wayward niece! - -Sylvia went away, and spent more time in doubting and fearing. But there -was a limit to the time she could take, because the man was practically -in her home, moving heaven and earth to get a chance to see her, to urge -his suit, to implore her for mercy, if for nothing more. And truly he -was a pitiable object; if a woman wanted a husband whom she could twist -round her finger, of whom she could be absolute mistress all her days, -here surely was the husband at hand! The voice of old Lady Dee called -out to her from the land of ghosts that her victory and her crown were -here. - -The end came suddenly, being due to a far-off cause. There was a panic -in “Wall Street”; an event of which Sylvia heard vaguely, but without -paying heed, not dreaming that so remote an event could concern her. One -can consult the financial year-books, and learn how many business men -went into bankruptcy as a result of that panic, what properties had to -be sold as a result of it; but it has apparently not occurred to any -compiler of statistics to record the number of daughters—daughters of -poor men and daughters of rich men—who had to be sold as a result of it. - -The Major came home one afternoon and shut himself in his study, and did -not come to dinner. Sylvia knew, by that subtle sixth sense whereby -things are known in families, that something serious had happened. But -she was not allowed to see her father that day or night; and when she -finally did see him, she was dumb with horror. He looked so yellow and -ill—his hands trembled as if palsied, and she knew by the cigar-stumps -scattered about the office, and the decanter of brandy on top of the -desk, that he had been up the entire night at his books. - -He would not tell her what was the matter; he insisted, as usual, that -it was “nothing.” But evidently he had told his wife, for the poor -lady’s eyes were red with weeping. Later on in the day Sylvia, chancing -to answer the telephone, received a message from Uncle Mandeville in New -Orleans, to the effect that he was “short,” and powerless to help. Then -she took her mother aside and dragged the story from her. The local bank -was in trouble, and had called some of the Major’s loans. The blow had -almost killed him, and they were in terror as to what he might do to -himself. - -Mrs. Castleman saw her daughter go white, and added, “Oh, if only you -were not under the spell of that dreadful man!” - -“But what in the world has that to do with it?” demanded the girl. - -“I curse the day that you met him!” wailed the other; and then, as -Sylvia repeated her question—“What else is it that keeps you from loving -a good man, and being a help to your father in this dreadful crisis?” - -“Mamma!” exclaimed Sylvia. She had never expected to hear anything like -this from the gentle “Miss Margaret.” “Mamma, I couldn’t stop the -panic!” - -“You could stop it so far as your father is concerned,” was the answer. - -Sylvia said no more at this time. But later on, when Aunt Nannie came -over, she heard the remark that there were a few fortunate persons who -were not affected by panics; it had been the maxim of van Tuiver’s -ancestors to invest in nothing but New York City real estate, and to -live upon their incomes. It was possible to do this, even in New York, -declared Mrs. Chilton, if one’s income was several millions a year. - -“Aunt Nannie,” said the girl, gravely, “if I promised to marry Mr. van -Tuiver, could I ask him to lend Papa money?” - -Whereat the other laughed. “My dear niece, I assure you that to be the -father of the future Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver would be an asset in the -money market—an asset quite as good as a plantation.” - - - § 19 - -Sylvia made up her mind that day; and as usual, she was both -clear-sighted and honest about it. She would not deceive herself, and -she would not deceive van Tuiver. She sent for the young millionaire, -and taking him into another room than the library, shut the door. “Mr. -van Tuiver,” she began, in a voice she tried hard to keep firm, “you -have been begging me to marry you. You must know that I have been trying -to make up my mind.” - -“Yes, Miss Sylvia?” he said, eagerly. - -“I loved Frank Shirley,” she continued. “Now I can never love again. But -I know I shall have to marry. My people would be unhappy if I didn’t—so -unhappy that I know I couldn’t bear it. You see, the person I really -love is my father.” - -She hesitated again. “Yes, Miss Sylvia,” he repeated. She saw that his -hands were trembling, and that he was gazing at her with feverish -excitement. - -“I would do anything to make my father happy,” she said. “And now—he’s -in trouble—money-trouble. Of course I know that if I married you, I -could help him. I’ve tried to bring myself to do it. To-day I said, ‘I -will!’ But then, there is your side to be thought of.” - -“My side, Miss Sylvia?” - -“I have to be honest with you. I can’t pretend to be what I am not, or -to feel what I don’t feel. If I were to marry you, I should try to do my -duty as a wife; I should do everything in my power, honestly and -sincerely. But I don’t love you, and I don’t see how I ever could love -you.” - -“But—Miss Sylvia—” he exclaimed, hardly able to speak for his agitation. -“You mean that you would marry me?” - -“I didn’t know if you would want to marry me—when I had told you that.” - -He was leaning forward, clenching and unclenching his hands nervously. -“I wouldn’t mind—really!” he said. - -“Even if you knew—” she began. - -“Miss Sylvia,” he cried, “I love you! Don’t you understand how I love -you?” - -“Yes, but—if I couldn’t—if I didn’t love you?” - -“I would take what you could give me! I love you so much, nothing would -matter. I believe that you would come to love me! If you would only give -me a chance, Miss Sylvia—” - -“But suppose!” she protested. “Suppose you found that I never did! -Suppose—” - -But he was in no mood for troublesome suppositions. Any way would do, he -said. He began stammering out his happiness, he fell upon his knees -before her and caught her hand, and sought to kiss it. At first she made -a move to withdraw it; but then, with an inward effort, she let him have -it, and sat staring before her, a mantle of scarlet stealing over her -throat and cheeks and forehead. - -His hands were hot and moist, and quite horrible to her. Once she looked -at him, and an image of him was stamped upon her mind indelibly. It was -an image quite different from his ordinary rigid and sober mask; it was -the face of the man who had always got everything he wanted. Sylvia did -not formulate to herself just what it was that frightened her so—except -for one phrase. She said it seemed to her that he licked his lips! - -He could hardly believe that the long siege was ended, that the guerdon -of victory was his. She had to tell him several times that she would -marry him—that she was serious about it—that would give him her word and -would not take it back. And then she had to prove it to him. He was not -content to clasp her hand, but sought to embrace her; and when she found -that she could not stand it, she had to plead that it was not the -Southern custom. “You must give me a little time to get used to the -idea. I only made up my mind to-day.” - -“But you will change your mind!” he exclaimed. - -“No, no, I won’t do that. That would be wicked of me. I’ve decided what -is right, and I mean to do it. But you must be patient with me at the -beginning.” - -“When will you marry me?” he asked—evidently none too confident in her -resolution. - -“I don’t know. It ought to be soon. I must talk with my parents about -it.” - -“And where will it be?” - -“That’s something I meant to speak of. It can’t be here.” She hesitated. -“I must tell you the truth. There would be too much to remind me. I -couldn’t endure it. This may seem sentimental to you, but I’m quite -determined. But I’ll have a hard time persuading my people—for you see, -they’re proud, and they’ll say the world would expect you to marry me -here. You must stand by me in this.” - -“Very well,” he said. “I will urge them to have the wedding in New -York.” - -There was a pause, then Sylvia added: “Another thing, you must not -breathe a word to anyone of what I’ve told you—about the state of my -feelings—my reasons for deciding—” - -He smiled. “I’d hardly boast about that!” - -“No, but I mean you mustn’t tell your dearest friend—not Aunt Nannie, -not Mrs. Winthrop. You see, I have to make my people believe that I’m -quite sure of my own mind. If my father had any idea that I was thinking -of him, then he’d surely forbid it. If he ever found out afterwards, -he’d be wretched—and I’d have failed in what I tried to do.” - -“I understand,” said van Tuiver, humbly. - -“It’s not going to be easy for me,” she added. “I shall have to make -everybody think I’m happy. You must sympathize with me and help me—and -not mind if I seem unreasonable and full of whims.” - -He said again that he understood, and would do his best. He took her -hand, very gently, and held it in his; he started to kiss it, but when -he saw that she had no pleasure in the ceremony he released it, parting -from her with a formal little speech of thanks. And such was the manner -of Sylvia’s second betrothal. - - - § 20 - -The engagement was announced at once, the wedding to take place six -weeks later in New York. Just as Sylvia had anticipated, the family made -a great to-do over the place of the ceremony; but finding that both she -and van Tuiver were immovable, they cast about for some pretext to make -a New York wedding seem plausible to a suspicious world. They bethought -themselves of an almost forgotten relative of the family, a step-sister -of Lady Dee’s, who had lived in haughty poverty for half a century in -the metropolis, and was now discovered in a boarding-house in Harlem, -and transported to a suite of apartments in the Palace Hotel, to become -responsible for Sylvia’s desertion of Castleman County. She had nothing -to do but be the hostess of her “dear niece”—since Mrs. Harold Cliveden -had kindly offered to see to the practical details of the ceremonial. - -The thrilling news of the betrothal spread, quite literally with the -speed of lightning; the next day all America read of the romance. Since -the story of van Tuiver’s infatuation, his treason to the “Gold Coast” -and his forsaking of college, has been the gossip of New York and Boston -clubs for months, there was a delightful story for the “yellows,” of -which they did not fail to make use. Of course there was nothing of that -kind in the Southern papers, but they had their own way of responding to -the general excitement, of gratifying the general curiosity. - -Sylvia was really startled by the furore she had raised; she was as if -caught up and whirled away by a hurricane. Such floods of -congratulations as poured in! So many letters, from people whose names -she could barely remember! Was there a single person in the county who -had a right to call, who did not call to wish her joy? Even Celeste -wrote from Miss Abercrombie’s—a letter which brought the tears to her -sister’s eyes. - -Through all these events Sylvia played her rôle; she played it day and -night—not even in the presence of her negro maid did she lay it aside! -The rôle of the blushing bride-to-be, the ten-times-over happy heroine -of a romance in high-life! She must be smiling, radiant with animation -decorously repressed; she must go about with the lucky bridegroom-to-be, -and receive the congratulations of those she knew, and be unaware—yet -not ungraciously unaware—of the interest and the stares of those she did -not know. More difficult yet, she had to look the Major in the eyes, and -say to him that she had come to realize that she was fond of “Mr. van -Tuiver,” and that she honestly believed she would be happy with him. -Since her mother and Aunt Varina were dear sentimental Southern ladies, -incapable of taking a cold-blooded look at a fact, she had to pretend -even to them that she was cradled in bliss. - -At first van Tuiver was with her all the time, pouring out the torrents -of his happiness and gratitude. But Aunt Nannie soon came to the rescue -here; Sylvia must not have the inconveniences of matrimony until the -knot had actually been tied. Van Tuiver was ordered off to New York, -until Sylvia should come for the buying of her wedding trousseau. - -The dear old Major had suspected nothing when his friend, the president -of the bank, had suddenly discovered that he could “carry” the -troublesome notes. So now he was completely free from care, and his -daughter had a week of bliss in his company. She read history to him, -and drove with him, and tended his flowers in the conservatory, and was -hardly apart from him an hour in the day. - -Sylvia had set out some months ago at the task of democratizing van -Tuiver; even in becoming engaged she had kept some lingering hope of -accomplishing this. But alas, how quickly the idea vanished before the -reality of her situation! She remembered with a smile how glibly she had -advised the young millionaire to step away from his shadow; and how he -had labored to make plain to her that he could not help being a King. -Now suddenly she found that she could sympathize with him—she who was -about to be a Queen! - -There were a thousand little ways in which she felt the difference. Even -the manner of her friends was changed. She could not go anywhere that -she was not conscious of people staring at her. It was found necessary -to appoint a negro to guard the grounds, because of the number of -strangers who came in the hope of getting a glimpse of her. Her mail -became suddenly a flood: letters from inventors who wished to make her -another fortune; letters from distressed women who implored her to save -them; letters from convicts languishing in prison for crimes of which -they were innocent; letters from poets with immortal, unrecognized -blank-verse dramas; letters from lonely farmers’ wives who thrilled over -her romance, and poured out their souls in ill-spelled blessings; -letters from prophets of the class-war who frightened her with warnings -of the wrath to come! - -On the second day after the engagement was announced, Sylvia went out, -all unsuspecting, for a horseback-ride, and had hardly mounted when a -man with a black box stepped from behind a tree, and proceeded calmly to -snap-shot the fair equestrienne. Sylvia cried out in indignation, and -springing from the horse, rushed in to tell the Major what had happened; -whereupon the Major sallied out with a cane, and there was a -cross-country gallop after the intruder, ending in a violent collision -between the camera and the cane. The funniest part of the matter was -that the photographer spent the better part of a day trying to get a -warrant for his assailant—imagining that it was possible to arrest a -Castleman in Castleman County! By way of revenge he telegraphed the -story to New York, where it appeared, duly worked up—with the old -photograph of the “reigning beauty of the New South,” in place of the -one which had died in the camera! - - - § 21 - -Sylvia came up to New York in due course; and by the time that she had -been there one day, she was able to understand the fondness of the great -for traveling “incog.” She was “snapped” when she descended from the -train—and this time there was no one to assault the photographer. Coming -out of her hotel with van Tuiver she found a battery of cameras waiting; -and being ungracious enough to put up her hand before her face, she -beheld her picture the next morning with the hand held up, and beside it -the “reigning beauty” picture—with the caption, “What is behind the -hand!” - -Van Tuiver was of course known in all the places which were patronized -by the people of his sort; and Sylvia had but to be seen with him once -in order to be equally known. Thereafter when she passed through a -hotel-lobby, or into a tea-room, she would become aware of a sudden -hush, and would know that every eye was following her. Needless to say, -she could count upon the attention of all the “buttons” who caught sight -of her; she lived with a vague consciousness of swarms of blue-uniformed -gnomes with constantly-changing faces, who flitted about her, all but -falling over one another in their zeal, and making her least action, -such as sitting in a chair or passing through a doorway, into a -ceremonial observance. - -The most curious thing of all was to go shopping; she simply dared not -order anything sent home. There would be the clerk, with pad and poised -pencil—“Name, please?” She would say, “Miss Sylvia Castleman,” and the -pencil would begin to write mechanically—and then stop, struck with a -sudden paralysis. She would see the fingers trembling, she would be -aware of a swift, wonder-stricken glance. Sometimes she would pretend to -be unconscious, and the business would go on—“Palace Hotel. To be -delivered this afternoon. Yes, certainly, Miss Castleman.” But sometimes -human feeling would break through all routine. A young soul, hungry for -life, for beauty—and confronting suddenly the greatest moment of its -whole existence, touching the hem of the star-sewn garment of Romance! A -young girl—possibly even a man—flushing scarlet, trembling, stammering, -“Oh—why—!” Once or twice Sylvia read in the face before her something so -pitiful that she was moved to put her hand upon that of her devotee; and -if you are learned in the lore of ancient times, you know what miracles -are wrought by the touch of Royalty! - -What attitude was she to take to this new power of hers? It was -impossible to pretend to be unaware of it—she had too keen a sense of -humor. But was she to spend her whole life in shrinking, and feeling -shame for other people’s folly? Or should she learn somehow to accept -the homage as her due? She saw that the latter was what van Tuiver -expected. He had chosen her among millions because she was the one -supremely fitted to go through life at his side; and if she kept her -promise and tried to be a faithful wife to him, she would have to take -her rôle seriously, and learn to enjoy the performances. - -Meantime, you ask, What of her soul? She was trying her best to forget -it—in excitements and distractions, in meeting new people, going to new -places, buying thousands of dollars worth of new costumes. She would -stay late at dances and supper-parties, trying to get weary enough to -sleep; but then she would have nightmares, and would waken moaning and -sobbing. Always her dream was one thing, in a thousand forms; she was -somewhere in captivity, and some person or creature was telling her that -she could not escape, that it was forever, forever, forever. Her room -had been made into a bower of roses, but she had to send them away, -because one horrible night when she got up and walked about, they made -her think of the gardens at home, and the pacing back and forth in her -nightgown, and the thorns and gravel in her feet. - -As a child Sylvia had read a story of a circus-clown, who had played his -part when ill and almost dying, because of his wife and child at home. -Always thereafter a circus-clown had been to her the symbol of the irony -of human life. But now she knew another figure, equally tragic, equally -terrible to be—the heroine of a State romance. To be photographed and -written about, to see people staring at you, to have to smile and look -like one hearing celestial music—and all the while to have a breaking -heart! - - - § 22 - -Sylvia fought long battles with herself. “Oh, I can’t do it!” she would -cry. “I can’t do it!” And then “You’ve promised to do it!” she would say -to herself. And every day she spent more money, and met more of van -Tuiver’s friends, and read more articles about her Romance. - -Then one morning came a hall-boy with a card. She looked at it, and had -a painful start. “Tubby” Bates! - -He came in, cheerful, jolly, reminding her of so many things—such happy -things! She had had a bad night, and now she simply could not talk; her -words choked her, and she sat staring at him, her eyes suddenly filling -with tears. - -“Why, Miss Castleman!” he exclaimed—and saw such a look upon that lovely -face that his voice died away to a whisper—“You aren’t happy!” - -Still for a while she could not answer. He asked her what was the -matter; and then, again, in greater distress, “Why did you do it?” She -responded, in a faint voice, “I did it on my father’s account.” - -There was a long silence. Then with sudden energy she began, “Mr. Bates, -there is something I want to talk to you about. It’s something -difficult—almost impossible for me to speak of. And yet—I seem to get -more and more desperate about it. I can never be happy in my life until -I’ve talked to some one about it.” - -“What is it, Miss Castleman?” - -“It’s about Frank Shirley.” - -“Oh!” he said, in surprise. - -“You know that I was engaged to him, Mr. Bates?” - -“Yes, I was told that.” - -“And you can guess, perhaps, how I have suffered. I know only what the -newspapers printed—nothing more. And now—you are a man, and you were at -Harvard—you must know. Is it true that Frank—that he did something that -would make it wrong for me ever to see him again?” - -The blood had pressed into Sylvia’s face, but still she did not lower -her eyes. She was gazing intensely at her friend. She must know the -truth! The whole truth! - -He considered, and then said, gravely, “No, Miss Castleman, I don’t -think he did that.” - -There was a pause. “But—it was a place——” she could go no further. - -“I know,” he said. “But you see, Shirley had a room-mate—Jack Colton. -And he was always trying to help him—to keep him out of trouble and get -him home sober——” - -“Oh, then _that_ was it!” The words came in a tone that frightened Bates -by their burden of anguish. - -“Yes, Miss Castleman,” he said. “And as to the row—Shirley saw a woman -mistreated, and he interfered, and knocked a man down. I know the man, -and he’s the sort one has to knock down. The only trouble was that he -hit his head as he fell.” - -“I see!” whispered Sylvia. - -“But even so, there wouldn’t have been any publicity, except that some -of the ‘Auburn Street crowd’ were there. They saw their chance to put -the candidate of the ‘Yard’ out of the running; and they did it. It was -a rotten shame, because everybody knew that Frank Shirley was not that -kind of man——” - -Bates stopped again. He could not bear the look he saw on Sylvia’s face. -She bowed her head in her arms, and silent sobbing shook her. Then she -got up and began to pace back and forth distractedly. He knew very well -what was going on in her thoughts. - -Suddenly she turned upon him. “Mr. Bates,” she exclaimed, “you must help -me! You must stay here and help me!” - -“Certainly, Miss Castleman. What can I do?” - -“In the first place, you must not breathe a word of this to anyone. You -understand?” - -“Of course.” - -“Have you any idea where Frank Shirley is?” - -“I heard that he had gone out to Wyoming with Jack Colton.” - -“Then you must telegraph to Mr. Colton; and also you must telegraph to -Frank Shirley’s home. You must say that Frank is to come to you in New -York at once. He mustn’t lose an hour, you understand; my father will be -here next week. Then, too, Frank will have heard of my engagement, and -you can’t tell what he might do.” - -Bates stared at her. “Do you know what you are doing, Miss Castleman?” -he asked. - -“I do,” she answered. - -“Very well, then,” he said, “I will do what you ask.” - -“Go, do it now,” she cried, and he went—carrying with him for the rest -of his life the memory of her face of agony. He sent the telegrams, and -in due course received replies—which he did not dare to bring to Sylvia -himself, but sent by messenger. The first, from Frank’s home, was to the -effect that his whereabouts were unknown; and the second, from Jack -Colton, was to the effect that Frank had gone away a couple of weeks -before, saying that he would never return. - - - § 23 - -Sylvia wrestled this problem out with her own soul. The only person who -ever knew about it was Aunt Varina, and she knew only because she -happened to awaken in the small hours of the morning and hear signs of a -fit of hysteria which the girl was trying to repress. She went into -Sylvia’s room and found her huddled upon the bed; when she asked what -was the matter, the other sobbed without lifting her face—“Oh, I can’t -marry him! I can’t marry him!” - -Mrs. Tuis stared at her in consternation. “Why, Sylvia!” she gasped. - -“Oh, Aunt Varina,” moaned Sylvia, “I’m so unhappy! It’s so horrible!” - -“But, my child! You are out of your senses! What has happened?” - -“I’ve come to realize the mistake I’ve made! I’d rather die than do it!” - -Poor Aunt Varina was dumb with dismay. Sylvia had played her part so -well that no one had had a suspicion. Now, between her bursts of -weeping, she stammered out what she had learned. Frank was innocent. He -had gone away forever—perhaps he had killed himself. At any rate, his -life was ruined, and Sylvia had done it. - -“But, my child,” protested the other, “you couldn’t help it. How could -you know?” - -“I should have found out! I should have trusted Frank; I should have -known that he could not do what they accused him of. I have been -faithless to him—faithless to our love. And now what will become of -him?” - -Aunt Varina sat gazing at her, tears of sympathy running down her -cheeks. “Sylvia,” she whispered, “what will you do?” - -“Oh, I love Frank Shirley!” moaned the girl. “I never loved anybody -else—I never will love anybody else! And I know—what I didn’t know at -first—that it’s wicked, wicked to marry without love!” - -“But what will you do?” repeated the other, who was dazed with horror. - -For a long time there was no sound but Sylvia’s weeping. “Sylvia dear,” -began Aunt Varina, at last, “you must control yourself. You must not let -these thoughts get possession of you. You will destroy yourself if you -do.” - -“I can’t marry him!” sobbed the girl. - -“I can’t let you go on talking that way!” exclaimed the other, wildly. -“Do you realize what you are saying? Look at me, child, look at me!” - -Sylvia looked at her, wondering a little—for never had she seen such -vehemence exhibited by this gentle and submissive “poor relation.” -“Listen!” Mrs. Tuis rushed on. “How can you know that what you have -heard is true? You say that Frank was innocent—but your Cousin Harley -investigated, and he declared he was guilty. Mrs. Winthrop told you the -same—she said everybody knew. And yet you take the word of one man! And -you told me at Harvard that Mr. Bates was distressed at the idea of your -marrying Mr. van Tuiver. You told me he warned you against him! Isn’t -that so, Sylvia?” - -“Yes, Aunt Varina, but—” - -“He does not like Mr. van Tuiver, and he comes here at a time like this, -and puts such ideas into your thoughts. Don’t you see that was not an -honorable thing to do—when you were on the verge of being married and -couldn’t get out of it! When you know that your father would be utterly -ruined—that your whole family would be wrecked by it!” - -“Surely it can’t be so bad, Aunt Varina!” - -“Think how your father has gone into debt on your account! All the -clothes you have bought—the bills at this hotel—the expenses of the -wedding! Thousands and thousands of dollars!” - -“Oh, I didn’t want all that!” wailed Sylvia. - -“But you did! You insisted on coming here to New York, where a wedding -would cost several times as much as at home! You have come out before -all the world as Mr. van Tuiver’s fiancée—and think of the scandal and -the disgrace, if you were to break it off! And poor Mr. van Tuiver—what -a figure he’d cut! And when he loves you so!” - -Sylvia’s sobbing had ceased during this outburst. When she spoke again, -her voice was hard. “He does not love me,” she said. - -“Why, what in the world do you mean by that?” - -“I mean just what I say. He doesn’t love me—not as Frank loves me. He -isn’t capable of it.” - -“But then—why—for what other reason should he be marrying you?” - -“I’m beautiful, and he wants me. But it’s mainly because I offended his -vanity—yes, just that! I turned him down, I ridiculed him and insulted -him. I was something he couldn’t get; and the more he couldn’t get me, -the more the thought of me rankled in his mind.” - -“Sylvia! How _can_ you be so cynical!” - -“I’m not cynical at all. I just won’t gild things over, as other women -do. I won’t make pretences, I won’t cover myself and my whole life with -a cloak of shams. I know right now that I’m being sold, just as much as -if I were led out to an auction-block with chains about my ankles! I’m -being sold to a man—and I was meant to be sold to a man from the very -beginning of my life!” - -There was a silence; for Aunt Varina was paralyzed by these amazing -words. She had never heard such an utterance in her life before. -“Sylvia!” she cried. “What do you mean? _Who_ is driving you?” - -“I don’t know! But something is!” - -“How can you say it? Can you imagine that your good, kind parents—” - -“Oh, no!” interrupted Sylvia, passionately. “At least—they don’t know -it!” - -Mrs. Tuis sat dumfounded. “Sylvia,” she quavered, at last, “let me -implore you to get yourself together before your father arrives in New -York. If he should hear what you have said to me to-night, he would -never get over it—truly, it would kill him!” - - - § 24 - -An event to which Sylvia looked forward with considerable interest was a -meeting with Mrs. Beauregard Dabney, who was coming to New York for a -visit. Harriet, as her letters showed, was not unappreciative of the -glory which had descended upon her friend, and would enjoy having some -of it reflected upon herself. Thus Sylvia might be shown what emotions -she ought to be feeling; possibly she might even be made to feel some of -them. At any rate, she knew that Harriet would help to keep her courage -screwed up. - -But Sylvia’s pleasure in the visit was marred by a peculiar -circumstance, which she had failed to prepare for, in spite of warnings -duly given. “You must not be surprised when you see me,” Harriet wrote. -“I have been ill, and I’m terribly changed.” Her reason for coming -North, it appeared, was to consult specialists about a mysterious -ailment which had baffled the doctors at home. - -Sylvia was quite horrified when she saw her friend. Never could she have -imagined such a change in anyone in six months’ time. Harriet lifted her -veil, and there was an old woman with wrinkled, yellow skin. “Why, -Harriet!” gasped Sylvia, unable to control herself. - -“I know, Sunny,” said the other. “Isn’t it dreadful?” - -“But for heaven’s sake, what is the matter?” - -“That’s what I’ve come to find out. Nobody knows.” - -“Why, I never heard of such a thing!” Sylvia exclaimed. “What are you -doing?” - -“I’m having all sorts of things done. The doctors give me medicine, but -nothing seems to do any good. I’m really in despair about myself.” - -“How did it begin, Harriet?” - -“I don’t really know. There were so many things, and I didn’t put them -together. I began having headaches a great deal; and then pains that the -doctors called neuralgia. I had a bad sore throat over in Europe; I -thought the climate disagreed with me, but I’ve had it again at home. -And now eruptions break out; the doctors treat them with things, and -they go away, but then they come back. All my hair is falling out, and -I’ve got to wear a wig.” - -“Why, how perfectly horrible!” cried Sylvia. - -She started to embrace her friend, but was repelled. “I mustn’t kiss -anyone,” said Harriet. “You see, it might be contagious—one can’t be -sure.” - -“But what are you going to do, Harriet?” - -“I’ve almost given up hoping. I haven’t really cared so much, since the -doctors told me I can never have another baby. You know, Sunny, it’s -curious—I never cared about children, I thought they were nuisances. But -when mine came, I cared—oh, so horribly! I wanted to have a real one.” - -“A real one?” echoed Sylvia. - -“Yes. I didn’t write you about it, and perhaps I oughtn’t to tell you -just at this time. But you know, Sunny, he didn’t seem like a human -being at all; he was a little gray mummy.” - -“Harriet!” - -“Just like that—a regular skeleton, his skin all loose, so that you -could lift it up in folds. He was a kind of earthy color, and had no -hair, and no finger nails——” - -Sylvia broke out with a cry of horror, and her friend stopped. “I -haven’t talked to anyone about it,” she said—“I guess I oughtn’t to, -even to you.” - -“How long did he live?” - -“About six weeks. Nobody knew what he died of—he just seemed to fade -away. You can’t imagine it, perhaps—but, Sunny, I wanted him to -stay—even him! He was all I could ever have, and it seemed so cruel!” -Suddenly the girl hid her face in her hands and began to sob—the first -time that Sylvia had ever seen her do it in all her life. - -So it was not the cheering visit that Sylvia had anticipated. It left -her with much to think about, and to talk about with other people. Later -on, speaking to Aunt Varina, she happened to mention something that van -Tuiver had said about the matter; whereupon her aunt exclaimed, “You -didn’t talk about it with Mr. van Tuiver!” - -“But why not, Auntie?” - -“You mustn’t do that, dear! You can’t tell.” - -“Can’t tell what?” - -“I mean, dear, that Harriet might have some disease that you oughtn’t to -talk to Mr. van Tuiver about.” Aunt Varina hesitated, then added, in a -whisper, “Some ‘bad disease’.” - -Whereat Sylvia started in sudden dismay. So _that_ was it! A “bad -disease”! - -You must understand how it happened that Sylvia had ideas on this -subject. There was a foreign writer of plays, whose name she had heard. -She had never seen his books, and would not have opened one, upon peril -of her soul; but once, in a magazine picked up in a train, she had read -a casual reference to an Ibsen play, which dealt with a nameless and -dreadful malady. From the context it was made clear that this malady was -a price men paid for evil living—and a price which was often collected -from their innocent wives and children. Now and then the women of -Sylvia’s family spoke in awe-stricken whispers of this mysterious taint, -using the phrase “a bad disease.” Now, apparently, she was beholding the -horror before her eyes! - - - § 25 - -The problem occupied Sylvia’s mind for several days, to the exclusion of -everything else. It lent a new dread to the thought of marriage. How -could a woman be safe from such a thing? Beauregard Dabney was not the -most perfect specimen of manhood that one could have selected, but there -was nothing especial the matter with him that could be observed. Yet see -what had happened to his wife and child! - -Harriet came again, and this time her husband was with her. He was just -as much in love with her as ever—in fact, Sylvia thought that she noted -a new and pathetic clinging on his part. They had been to see a great -specialist, and still there was nothing definite to be learned about the -malady; the doctor, hearing that the couple had journeyed up the Nile, -suggested that possibly it might be an African fever, and promised to -look up the mysterious symptoms in his books. Wasn’t it extraordinary, -exclaimed Harriet; but Sylvia, who could not be deceived for very long, -noticed that Beauregard was not so much excited about the African theory -as his wife. Suddenly the thought came to her, Could it be that the -doctors really knew what the disease was, and would not tell Harriet? -Could it be that Beauregard knew, and was helping in the deception? -Then—horror of horrors—could it be that he had known all along, and had -upon his conscience the crime of having brought the woman he loved into -this state? - -Sylvia’s relentless mind, once having got hold of this problem, clung to -it like a bull-dog to the throat of an enemy. Of course such a disease -was a loathsome thing; a woman could not very well ask questions about -it—yet, what was she to do? Apparently she was dependent upon the man’s -honor; and could it be that a man’s notion of honor permitted him, when -he was desperately in love, to take such chances with a woman’s life? -Sylvia remembered suddenly that Beauregard had made love to _her_. More -than once she had actually permitted him to hold and fondle her hand. -The mere thought made her shrink with horror. - -And then came another idea. (How quickly she was putting things -together!) Men got this disease by evil living. Then Beauregard must -have done the sort of thing that Frank Shirley had been accused of -doing! Also Jack Colton had done the same! Also—had not Bates said that -there were some of the “Auburn Street crowd” in that place? Club-men, -gentlemen, the aristocracy of Harvard! There came back to her the phrase -from Harley’s letter: “one of the two or three high-class houses of -prostitution which are especially frequented by college men!” How much -Sylvia knew about this forbidden subject, when she came to put her mind -to it! More, apparently, than her own parents—for had they not shown -themselves willing for her to fall in love with Beauregard Dabney? More, -also, than Mrs. Winthrop—for had not that lady implied that it was only -low and obscure men who permitted themselves such baseness? - -As you may believe, it was not long before Sylvia’s thoughts came to her -own intended husband. What had been _his_ life? What might be the -chances of her being brought to such a fate as Harriet’s? Apparently -nobody had any thought about it. They had been quick to avail themselves -of the appearance of evil on the part of Frank Shirley; but what had -they done to make sure that van Tuiver had been any better? - -For three days Sylvia debated this problem; and then her mind was made -up—she would do something about it. She would talk to someone. But to -whom? - -She began with her faithful chaperone, mentioning the African fever -theory, and so bringing up the subject of “bad diseases.” Just how much -did Aunt Varina know about these diseases? Not very much, it appeared. -Was there any way to find out about them? There was no way that Aunt -Varina could conceive—it was not a subject concerning which a young girl -ought to inquire. - -“But,” protested Sylvia, “a girl has to marry. And think of taking such -chances! Suppose, for instance, that Mr. van Tuiver—” - -“Ssh!” Aunt Varina almost leaped at her niece in her access of horror. -“Sylvia! how can you suggest such a thing?” - -“But, Auntie, how can I be sure?” - -“You surely know that the man to whom you have given your heart is a -gentleman!” - -“Yes, Auntie, but then I knew that Beauregard Dabney was a gentleman—and -so did you. And see what has happened!” - -“But, Sylvia dear! You don’t know that it’s _that_!” - -“I very nearly know it. And if Beauregard was willing to marry when he—” - -“But _he_ may not have known it, Sylvia!” - -“Well, don’t you see, Aunt Varina? That makes it all the more serious! -If Mr. van Tuiver himself can be ignorant, how can I feel safe?” - -“But, Sylvia, what could you do?” - -“Why, I should think he ought to go to some one who knows—a doctor—and -make sure.” - -The poor old lady was almost speechless with horror. What was the world -coming to? “How can you say such a thing?” she exclaimed. “You, a pure -girl! Who could suggest such a thing to Mr. van Tuiver?” - -“Couldn’t Papa do it?” - -“And pray, who is to suggest it to your father? Surely _you_ couldn’t!” - -“Why no,” said Sylvia, “perhaps not. But couldn’t Mamma?” - -“Your mother would _die_ first!” And Sylvia, remembering her “talk” with -“Miss Margaret,” had to admit that this was probably true. - -But still she could not give up her idea that something ought to be -done. She took a couple of days more to think, and then made up her mind -to write to her Uncle Basil. The family had sent him to talk with her -about Frank’s misconduct, thus apparently indicating him as her proper -adviser in delicate matters. - -So she wrote, at some length—using most carefully veiled language, and -tearing up many pages which contained words she could not endure seeing -on paper. But she made her meaning clear—that she thought someone should -approach her future husband on the subject. - -Sylvia waited the necessary period for the Bishop’s reply, and read it -with trembling fingers and flaming cheeks—although its language was even -more carefully veiled than her own. The substance of it was that van -Tuiver was a Christian gentleman, and this must be Sylvia’s guarantee -that he would not bring any harm to the woman he so deeply revered. -Surely, if Sylvia respected him enough to marry him, she could trust him -in a matter like this! To approach him upon it would be to offer him a -deadly insult. - -Whereupon Sylvia took several days more to worry and wonder. She was not -satisfied at all, and finally summoned her courage and wrote to the -Bishop again. It was not merely a question of honor; if that were true, -she would have to say that Beauregard Dabney was a scoundrel and she did -not believe that. Might it not possibly be _knowledge_ that was lacking? -She begged her uncle to do her the favor of his life by writing to van -Tuiver; and she intimated further that if he would not do it, she would -have to put the matter before her father. - -So there was another wait, and then came a letter from the Bishop, -saying that he was writing as requested. Then, after a third wait, a -letter with van Tuiver’s reply. He had taken the inquiry very -magnanimously; he could understand, he said, how Sylvia had been upset -by the sight of her friend’s illness. As to her own case, she might rest -assured that there could be no such possibility. And so at last Sylvia’s -fears were allayed, and she was free to be unhappy about other matters. - - - § 26 - -You must not imagine that Sylvia was spending these days in moping; all -her thinking had to be done in the odd moments of a strenuous career. -Day and night she had to meet new people, and new people were always an -irresistible stimulus to her curiosity. Not all of them were hall-boys -and shop-clerks, falling instant victims to her charms; on the contrary, -they were Knickerbocker “society”—people not infrequently as wealthy as -her future husband, and having an equally great notion of their own -importance. The tidings that Douglas van Tuiver had picked up a country -girl had not thrilled them with sympathetic emotions. The details of the -newspaper romance inspired them only with contempt. There had to be many -a flash of Sylvia’s rapier-wit, and many a flash of Sylvia’s red-brown -eyes, before these patrician plutocrats had been brought to acknowledge -her an equal. - -A few of these acquaintances were kindly people, whom she could imagine -making into friends, if only there had been time. But she wondered how -anybody ever found time for friendship in this restless and expensive -and highly ornamental life. Such a whirl of dinner-parties and -supper-parties, dances and luncheons and teas! Such august and imposing -splendor, such dignified and even sombre dissipation! The Major had -provided abundant credit for this last splurge; and van Tuiver’s aunt -was also on hand, conspiring with her nephew to smother Sylvia under -loads of gifts. The girl wondered sometimes, was it that van Tuiver had -suspicions of her wavering, and sought to bind her by forcing these -luxuries upon her? Or would she be expected always to live this kind of -Arabian Nights’ existence? - -There came old friends, to bask in the sunlight of her success. Miss -Abercrombie came, effulgent with delight, assured of a lifetime’s -prosperity by this demonstration of her system. With her came Celeste, -playing her difficult part with bitter pride. Harley Chilton ran down -from Boston, bringing the tidings that he had made the “Dickey” and saw -his way clear to the top of the Harvard pyramid. Last of all, two or -three days before the wedding came “Queen Isabella,” distributing her -largess of blessings to all concerned. - -First she met “Miss Margaret” and the Major, and addressed them with -such mystical eloquence that the agitated pair had not a dry eye between -them. After which she sought the prospective bride and bridegroom; and -not even the most reverend millionaire bishop who was to perform the -ceremony could have been more pontifical and impressive than our great -lady in this solemn hour. We live in a cynical world, which affords but -poor soil for the nurture of the finer flowers of the spirit. But Mrs. -Winthrop was one really capable of experiencing the more exalted -emotions, and of giving them ungrudging utterance. She was thrilled now -by the vistas which she saw unfolding; not since the day of her espousal -of the celebrated railroad-builder had the wings of the seraphim rustled -so loudly about her head. She might have been compared to a creative -artist who labors for long in solitude, and who at last, when he reveals -his masterpiece, is startled by the clamor of the world’s applause. - -“Sylvia,” she said, and put both her hands upon the girl’s—“Sylvia, you -have before you a great career, a career of service. You will be happy—I -know you must be happy, dear, when once you have come to realize what an -inspiration you are to others. Such fortune as yours falls but rarely to -a woman, but you will be worthy of it—I believe you will be worthy of -everything that has come to you.” - -“I hope so, Mrs. Winthrop,” answered Sylvia, humbly. - -And then, as van Tuiver discreetly moved away, the other went on, in a -low and deeply-moved voice: “Don’t imagine, dear girl, that I fail to -realize all your doubts and perplexities. I know just how you feel, for -I had to go through with it myself. Every woman does—but believe me, -such tremors are as nothing compared to all the rest of one’s life. We -learn to subordinate our personal feelings, our personal preferences. -That is one of the duties of those who have greatness as their lot—who -have to live what one might call public lives.” - -Now, Sylvia might have her doubts as to the soundness of this doctrine, -but she had none as to the genuineness of the speaker’s feelings; so she -was a trifle shocked when Mrs. Winthrop went away, and she discovered -that her future husband was laughing. - -“What is it?” she asked. - -“Nothing,” he said, “it’s all right—only when you are Mrs. Douglas van -Tuiver, you will receive Isabella’s ecstasies with a trifle more -reserve. You will realize that she has her own axes to grind.” - -“Axes—what do you mean?” - -“Social axes. You’ll understand my world bye-and-bye, Sylvia. Isabella’s -trying to make an impression beyond her income, and she’s seeking -alliances. What you must remember is that the need is on her side.” - -There was a pause, while Sylvia sat thinking. “Tell me,” she said, at -last, “why did Mrs. Winthrop change so suddenly, and begin urging me to -marry you?” - -“It’s the same thing,” he answered. “She couldn’t afford to displease -me. When she found that I was determined to have my way, she tried to -make it seem her work. Naturally, she’d want as much of the prestige of -this wedding as she could get.” - -Again Sylvia pondered. “Hasn’t Mrs. Winthrop’s husband enough money?” -she asked. - -“He has enough, but he won’t spend it. The tragedy of Isabella’s life is -that her husband is really interested in railroads.” - -“But I thought he adored her!” Sylvia remembered a pathetic stout -gentleman she had seen wandering about on the outskirts of a throng of -the great lady’s admirers. - -“Oh, yes,” replied van Tuiver, with laughter. “I never saw a woman who -had a man more completely bluffed. But the trouble is that he offers -himself, and what she wants is his money.” - -There followed a long silence. Van Tuiver had pleasant things to -meditate upon; but suddenly he chanced to look at Sylvia, and exclaimed, -“Why, what’s the matter?” - -“Nothing,” she said, and turned away her head to conceal the tears she -had failed to repress. - -“But what is it?” he demanded, not without a touch of annoyance. - -“There’s no use talking about it,” was Sylvia’s reply. “It’s just that -you promised you would try not to think so much about money. Sometimes I -can’t help being frightened, when I realize that you don’t ever believe -in people—but only in money.” - -She saw the old worried look come back to his face. “You know that I -believe in _you_!” he exclaimed. - -“You told me,” she answered, “that the only way I was able to make an -impression upon you was by refusing to marry you. And now I have given -up that prestige—so aren’t you afraid that you may come to feel about me -as you do about Mrs. Winthrop?” - - - § 27 - -Major and Mrs. Castleman arrived next morning, and after that there were -busy times for Sylvia. There was the wedding-gown to be shown, and the -trousseau and the presents; there were plans for the future to be told -of, and many blessings to be received. “Miss Margaret” was in a “state” -most of the time—tears of joy and tears of sorrow pursuing each other -down her generous cheeks. “Sylvia,” she exclaimed, in one breath, “I -_know_ you will be happy!” And then, in the next breath, “Sylvia, I -_hope_ you will be happy!” And then, in a third breath, “Sylvia, how -will we ever get on without you? Who will dare to spank the baby?” - -It was with her father that she had the really trying ordeal; her father -took her into a room alone, and held her hands in his and tried to read -her soul. “Tell me, my child, are you going to be happy?” - -“I think so, Papa,” she answered; and had to make herself look into his -eyes. - -“I want you to understand me, dear Sylvia—even now, at this last hour, -don’t take the step unless you believe with your best judgment that you -will be happy.” - -There was a moment of madness, when she had the impulse to fling herself -into his arms and cry, “I love Frank Shirley!” But instead of that she -hurried on, “I believe he loves me deeply, Papa.” - -Said the Major, in a trembling voice, “There is no more solemn moment in -a father’s life than when he sees his dearly loved daughter taking this -irrevocable step. I want you to know, my darling, that I have prayed -earnestly, I have done my best to judge what is right for you.” - -“Yes, Papa,” she said, “I know that.” - -“I want you to know that if ever I have seemed to be stern, it has been -because I believed my daughter’s welfare required it.” - -“Yes, Papa,” she said, again. - -“I am sure, this man loves you, Sylvia; and I believe he’s a good man—he -ought to make you happy. But I want you to know that if by any chance my -prayers are denied—if you find that you are not happy—then your father’s -home will always be open to you, his arms will always be stretched wide -to clasp you.” - -“Dear old Daddy!” whispered the girl. She felt the arms about her now, -and she began to sob softly, with a mixture of emotions. Oh, if only she -might stay for the balance of her life in the shelter of those arms, -that were so strong and so dependable! If only there were not the -dreadful thing called marriage—which drove her out into another pair of -arms, from which she shrunk with such unconquerable aversion! - -This was the heart of her difficulty—her inability to conquer her -physical shrinking from the man to whom she was betrothed. Here she was, -upon the very eve of her wedding, and she had made no progress whatever. -Mentally and spiritually she had probed him, and felt that she knew him -intimately; but physically he was still an utter stranger to her—as much -so as any man she might have met upon the street. She would sit talking -with him, trying to forget herself and her fears for a while; and -gradually she would be conscious of his gaze upon her, his eyes -traveling over her form, devouring her in thought, longing for her. Then -she would go almost beside herself—she would have to spring up and break -the chain of his thoughts. It seemed to her that she was like the prey -of some wild beast—or a beast that was just tame enough to wait -patiently, knowing that at a certain time the prey would be in its -grasp. - -On the evening before the wedding van Tuiver was to attend a -“stag-dinner” with his friends; but he called in to see her for a few -minutes, and the family discreetly left them alone. In a sudden access -of longing, he clasped her in his arms, and she forced herself to -submit. Then he began to kiss her, to press passionate kisses upon her -cheek and throat. His breath was hot, and utterly horrible to her; she -could not endure it, and cried out to him to stop, and struggled and -pushed him away. Still holding her, and gazing at her with desire -blazing in his eyes, he whispered, “Not yet?” - -“Oh, how could you?” she cried. - -“Is it not time you were beginning to learn?” he demanded; and then, -wholly beside himself, “Sylvia, how much longer am I to endure this? -Can’t you understand what you make me suffer? I love you—I love you to -distraction, and I get nothing from you—nothing! I dare not even tell -you that I love you!” - -The passion in his voice made her shudder; and yet, too, she pitied him. -She was ashamed of herself for the way she treated him. “What can I do?” -she cried. “I can’t help it—as God is my witness, I can’t control my -feelings. I ask myself, ought I to marry you so?” - -“It seems to me it’s rather late to bring up that question,” he -responded. - -“I know, I know! I have nothing to say for myself—except that I didn’t -know, I couldn’t realize. It’s something I must tell you—how I have come -to feel—that I ought not to marry you, that you ought not to want me to -marry you, while things are like this. You must know this, so that if I -marry you, the responsibility will be yours!” - -“And you think that is fair of you?” he demanded, his voice grown -suddenly hard. - -He meant to rebuke her, and she felt that he had a right to rebuke her; -but the wave of emotion which swept her along was not to be controlled -by her reason. “Oh, you are going to be angry about it!” she cried. “How -horrible of you!” - -He exclaimed, “Sylvia! Can you expect me not to be hurt?” - -“I told you that I couldn’t help it! I told you in the very beginning -that you would have to take me as I was, and be satisfied if I did my -best! I told you that again and again—that I loved another man, that I -love him still—” - -She stopped. A spasm of pain crossed his face—followed by a look of -fear. He hesitated, and then, his voice low and trembling, he began, -“Sylvia, forgive me. I know that you are right—that you are trying to do -your best. I will be patient. You must be patient with me also.” - -She stood, her head bowed, ashamed of what she had said. Yet—she felt -that he ought to have heard it. “I hate to seem unfair,” she whispered, -her voice almost breaking. “I don’t want to give you pain, but I can’t -help these feelings, and I know it’s my duty to tell you of them. I -don’t see how you can go on—I should think you would be afraid to marry -me!” - -For answer he caught her hands, exclaiming, “I will take my chances! I -love you, and I will never rest until you love me!” - - - § 28 - -So far I have put together this story from the memories of Sylvia and -Frank Shirley. But now I have come to the point where you may watch the -events through my own eyes. I will take a paragraph or two to give you -an idea of the quality of these eyes, and then proceed without further -delay. - -Mary Abbott, the teller of this tale, was at the age of forty a crude -farmer’s wife upon a lonely pioneer homestead in Manitoba. In winter in -that part of the world it begins to grow dark at three o’clock in the -afternoon, and it is not fully light until nine o’clock in the morning. -We were a mile from the nearest neighbor, and had often three feet of -snow upon the ground, with fifty degrees below zero and a sweeping wind. -I had a husband whom I feared and despised, and for whom I cooked and -washed and sewed, whether I was well or ill. Under these circumstances I -had raised three children to maturity. I had moved to town and seen them -through high-school; and now, the girl being married, and the two boys -in college, I found myself suddenly free to see the world. - -You must not think of me as altogether ignorant. I had fought -desperately for books, and had grown up with my children. Discovering in -the town the perpetual miracle of a circulating library, I had read -wildly, acquiring a strange assortment of new ideas. But that, I am -ashamed to say, made very little difference when I reached the East. It -is one thing to read up in the theory of Socialism, and say that you -have freed yourself from _bourgeois_ ideals; it is quite another to come -from a raw pioneer community, and be suddenly hit between the eyes by -all the marvels of the great New Nineveh! - -I forgot my principles; I wandered about, breathless with excitement. -Everything that I had ever read about, in Sunday supplements and cheap -magazines—here it was before my eyes! I got myself a hall-room in a -“Greenwich Village” boarding-house, and for days I went, thrusting my -inquisitive country face into everything that was cheap enough. The huge -shops with their amazing treasures of silks and jewels; the great hotels -with their gold and stucco splendors; the dizzy, tower-like -office-buildings; the newspaper offices with their whirling presses; the -theatres, the museums, the parks; the Brooklyn Bridge and the Statue of -Liberty, Grant’s Tomb and the Bowery—I was the very soul of that thing -which the New Yorker derisively calls the “rubber-neck wagon!” I took my -place in one of these moving grand-stands, and listened to all that came -out of the megaphone. Here was the home of the steel-king, which had -cost three millions of dollars! Here was the home where a fifty thousand -dollar chef was employed! Here was the old van Tuiver mansion, where the -millionaire-baby had been brought up! Here was the Palace Hotel, where -Miss Sylvia Castleman was staying! - -It was the day before the wedding; and I, like all the rest of the city, -was thrilling over the Romance, knowing more about the preparations than -the bride herself. I had read all the papers—morning papers and -afternoon papers; I had read descriptions of the wedding-gown, the -trousseau, the rooms full of gift-treasures with detectives on guard. I -had stared at the outside of the church, and imagined the inside. Last -of all, I had wandered up to the Palace Hotel and peered about in the -lobby, amusing myself by imagining that each gorgeous female creature -who floated by and disappeared into a motor-car might possibly be the -Princess herself! - -At the boarding-house we discussed the possibility of seeing the -wedding-cortege, and everybody said that I could not come within a block -of the church. “I’ll fight my way,” I declared; to which the reply was -that I would find out something about New York policemen that would cure -me of my fighting impulses. The result of the discussion was that I set -out immediately after breakfast, fired with the spirit of the -discoverers of Pike’s Peak. - -I must get at least a glimpse, I told myself. What a tale to be able to -tell at the Women’s Club receptions at home! To say: “I saw her! She was -the loveliest thing! And oh, her dress! It was cream-white satin, with -four graduated flounces of exquisite point-lace!” Of course I could have -got all that from the newspapers; but I wanted to be able to say it -truly. - -The wedding-hour was noon, but at nine there was already a respectable -crowd. I established myself upon the steps of a nearby house, with a -newspaper to sit on and a pair of borrowed opera-glasses in my hand-bag. -In the meantime I entertained myself talking with the other watchers, -who were a new type to me, well-dressed women, kept in luxury, whether -legal or otherwise, who fed their empty minds upon fashion sheets and -“society notes,” and had no idea in the world beyond the decking of -their persons and the playing of their little part in the great game of -Splurge. We talked about the van Tuiver family, its history and its -present status; we talked with awe about the bride; we talked about the -presents, the decorations, the costumes—there was so much to talk about! - -Shortly after ten o’clock a calamity befell us—the police began to clear -the steps, driving the crowd far back from the church-entrance. What -agonies, what expostulations! How outrageous—when we had waited there an -hour already! Sometimes the steps were our own steps, sometimes they -were the steps of friends; but even that made no difference. “I’m sorry, -lady, the orders are to clear everything.” They were as gentle about it -as they could be, but that was none too gentle; we had the butt-ends of -clubs, pressing into our stomachs, and back we went, arguing, scolding, -threatening, sometimes weeping or fainting. - -I was tremendously disappointed. To have to go back to the -boarding-house, and admit defeat to the milliner’s assistant who sat -next to me at meals! To hear “I told you so” from the “floor-walker” who -sat across the way! “I won’t do it!” I said to myself. - -And then suddenly came my chance. Behind me there was a commotion, angry -protests—“Officer, let us through here! We have cards!” Cards—how our -souls thrilled as we heard the word! Here, right close to us, were some -of the chosen ones! Let us see them at least—a bit of Royalty at second -hand! - -They pushed their way through—three women and two men. As they neared -me, I saw the engraved invitations in their hands, and it flashed over -me that in my hand-bag was a milliner’s advertisement of nearly the same -size and shape. I dived in, and fished it out with trembling fingers, -and fell in behind the party, and pushed through the crowd past the line -of police. There before me was the open space in front of the church! - -I had acted on impulse, with no idea what to do next. I could scarcely -hope to get in to the wedding on a milliner’s card. But fortunately my -problem solved itself, for there were always the guests pushing into the -entrance, and everybody was perfectly willing to push ahead of me. All I -had to do was to “mark time,” and I was free to stay, inhaling delicious -perfumes and feasting my ears upon scraps of the conversation of the -_élite_. I foresaw that the banner of the great Northwest would wave -triumphantly in “Greenwich Village” that night! - - - § 29 - -I will not stop to detail the separate thrills of this adventure. -Carriage after carriage, motor after motor drew up, and released new -revelations of grace and elegance. The time for the ceremony drew near, -and from the stir in the throng about me I knew that the guests from the -wedding-breakfast were passing. How I longed to talk to someone—to ask -who was this and that and the other one! Then I might have been able to -tell you how “Miss Margaret” wept, and how Aunt Varina trembled, and -what “Queen Isabella” was wearing! But the only persons I could be sure -of were the five lovely bridesmaids, and the bride, leaning upon the arm -of a stately old white-haired gentleman. How we craned our necks, and -what rapture transported us! We heard the thunder of the organ and the -orchestra within, and it corresponded to the state of our souls. - -There was still quite a throng at either side of the entrance—newspaper -reporters, people who had come out of houses nearby, people who, like -myself, had got by the police-lines upon one pretext or another. Down -the street we could see a solid line of bluecoats, and behind them -people crowded upon steps, leaning out of windows, clinging to railings -and lamp-posts. We were in fear lest at any time we might be ordered to -join this throng, so we stayed silent and very decorous, careful not to -crowd or to make ourselves conspicuous. - -You might have expected, perhaps, that when all the protagonists of the -drama had entered the church, the crowd would have dispersed; but not a -soul went. We stood, listening to the faint music, and imagining the -glories that were hid from our eyes. We pictured the procession up the -aisle, with the guests standing on the seats in order to get a glimpse -of it. We pictured the sacred ceremony. (There were some who had -prayer-books in their hands, the better to aid their imaginations.) We -pictured the bride, kneeling upon a white silk cushion embroidered with -gold, receiving the blessings of the millionaire bishop. We heard the -wild burst of chimes which told us that the two were made one, and our -pulses leaped with excitement. - -All this took perhaps half an hour; and I think that about half that -time had passed when I first noticed Claire. I never knew how she got -there; but fate, or providence, or what you will, had set her next to -me, and that strange intuition which sometimes comes to me, and puts me -inside the soul of another person in less time than it takes for my eye -to look them over, gave me the warning of danger from her presence. - -She was a tall and striking woman, beautifully gowned, with high color -and bold black eyes—a woman you would have noticed in any gathering. You -would have thought at once that she was a foreigner, but you might have -been puzzled as to her country, for she had none of the characteristic -French traits, and her English was quite perfect. I glanced at her once, -and thereafter I forgot everything else—the crowd, the ceremony, all. -What was the matter with this woman? - -What first made me turn was a quick motion, as of a nervous spasm. Then -I saw that her hands were clenched tightly, and drawn up in front of her -as if she were struggling with someone. Her lips were moving, yet I -heard no sound; she was staring in front of her fixedly, but at nothing. - -I must explain that it did not occur to me that she had been drinking. -My country imagination was not equal to that flight. To be sure, since -my arrival I had learned that the women of the New Nineveh did drink; I -had peered into the “orange room,” and the “palm room,” and several -other strange rooms, and had seen gorgeous peacock-creatures with little -glasses of highly-colored liquids before them. But I had not got so far -as to imagine any consequences; I had never thought of connecting the -high color in women’s cheeks, the sparkle in women’s eyes, the animation -of women’s chatter with the little glasses of highly-colored liquids. -They had so many other reasons for being animated, these fortunate, -victorious ones! - -No, I only knew that this woman was excited; and I began forthwith to -imagine most desperate and romantic things. You must remember what I -said when I was first telling about Sylvia—that my ideas of the _grand -monde_ had been derived from cheap fiction in “Farm” and “Home” and -“Fireside” publications. You all know the old story of the beautiful -heroine who marries the dissolute duke; how the duke’s cast-off mistress -attends the wedding, and does something melodramatic and -thrilling—perhaps shoots at the duke, perhaps throws vitriol at the -bride, perhaps hands her a letter which is worse than vitriol to her -innocent young soul. I smile when I think how instantly I understood -this situation, and with what desperate seriousness I made ready to play -my part—watching the woman like a cat, ready to spring and seize her at -the first hostile move. And yet, after all, it was no joke, for Claire -was really quite capable of a murderous impulse when she was in her -present condition. - -Other people had begun to notice her peculiar behavior; I saw one or two -women edging away from her, but I stayed all the closer. The time came -when we heard the music of the Mendelssohn March, and the excitement in -the crowd told us what was coming. Suddenly the doors of the church -swung open—and there, in her radiant loveliness—the bride! - -Her veil was thrown back, but her eyes were cast down, and she clung to -the arm of her husband. Oh, what a vision she was, and what a thrill -went about! For myself, however, I scarcely saw her. My eyes were on the -strange woman. - -She looked like a mad creature; quivering in every nerve, her fingers -twisting and untwisting themselves like writhing snakes. She had -crouched, as if ready to spring; and I had my hands within a foot of -hers, ready to stop her. The procession moved through the passage kept -clear by the police, and I literally held my breath while they -passed—held it until the bride had stepped into a limousine, and the -bridegroom had followed, and the door had slammed. Then suddenly the -strange woman drew herself up and turned upon me, her face glaring into -mine. I saw her wild eyes—and also I got a whiff of her breath. She -laughed, a hysterical, hateful laugh, and muttered: “She’ll pay for what -she gets!” - -I whispered “Hush!” But the woman cried again, so that several people -heard her: “She’ll pay for everything she gets from him!” She added a -phrase in French, the meaning and import of which I learned to -understand long afterwards—“_Le cadeau de noce que la maitresse laisse -dans la corbeille de la jeune fille!_” Then suddenly I saw her sway, and -I caught her and steadied her, as I know how to steady people with my -big strong arms. - -And that, reader, was the strange way of my coming into the life of -Sylvia Castleman! - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - NEW BOOKS YOU OUGHT TO READ - - - * * * * * - - -=WRITTEN IN THE SAND.= By G. R. DUVAL - -This is a romance, perhaps it would be truer to say _THE_ romance, of -the Sahara. 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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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Sylvia - A Novel - -Author: Upton Sinclair - -Release Date: April 30, 2020 [EBook #61984] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SYLVIA *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, MWS, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class='tnotes covernote'> - -<p class='c000'><b>Transcriber’s Note:</b></p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='section ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>SYLVIA</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='section ph2'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><em>By Upton Sinclair</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>SYLVIA</div> - <div class='line'>LOVE’S PILGRIMAGE</div> - <div class='line'>PLAYS OF PROTEST</div> - <div class='line'>THE FASTING CURE</div> - <div class='line'>THE JUNGLE</div> - <div class='line'>THE INDUSTRIAL REPUBLIC</div> - <div class='line'>THE METROPOLIS</div> - <div class='line'>THE MONEYCHANGERS</div> - <div class='line'>SAMUEL THE SEEKER</div> - <div class='line'>KING MIDAS</div> - <div class='line'>PRINCE HAGEN</div> - <div class='line'>THE JOURNAL OF ARTHUR STIRLING</div> - <div class='line'>MANASSAS</div> - <div class='line'>THE OVERMAN</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='titlepage box'> - -<div> - <h1 class='c003'>SYLVIA<br /> <span class='xlarge'><em>A NOVEL</em></span></h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>——BY——</div> - <div class='c004'><span class='large'>UPTON SINCLAIR</span></div> - <div class='c002'>THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY</div> - <div><span class='sc'>Philadelphia</span> <span class='sc'>Chicago</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='small'>Copyright, 1913, by</span></div> - <div><span class='small'><span class='sc'>The John C. Winston Co.</span></span></div> - <div class='c002'><span class='small'>Published, May 15, 1913</span></div> - <div><span class='small'>First Printing, April, 1913. Second Printing, May, 1913</span></div> - <div><span class='small'>Third Printing, May, 1913</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='sc'>To</span></div> - <div><span class='sc'>The People at Home</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c004' /> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='CONTENTS'> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='2'><span class='sc'>Book I</span></td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Sylvia Loves</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_11'>11</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='2'><span class='sc'>Book II</span></td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Sylvia Lingers</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_147'>147</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='2'><span class='sc'>Book III</span></td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Sylvia Loses</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_277'>277</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class='section ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>SYLVIA</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span> - <h2 class='c005'><span class='large'>BOOK I</span><br /> <em>Sylvia Loves</em></h2> -</div> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 1</h3> - -<p class='c010'>This is the story of Sylvia Castleman, of her -love and her marriage. The story goes back to -the days of her golden youth; but it has to be -told by an old woman who had no youth at all, -and who never dreamed of having a story to -tell. It begins with scenes of luxury among the -proudest aristocracy of the South; it is told by -one who for the first thirty years of her life was -a farmer’s wife in a lonely pioneer homestead in -Manitoba, and who, but for the pictures and stories -in magazines, would never have known that such -a world as Sylvia Castleman’s existed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Yet I believe that I can tell her story. Eight -years of it I lived with her, so intensely that it -became as my own existence to me. And the -rest I gathered from her lips, even to the tiniest -details. For years I went about my daily tasks -with Sylvia’s memories as a kind of radiance -about me, like a rainbow that shimmers over the -head of a plodding traveler. In the time that -I knew her, I never came to the end of her -picturesque adventures, nor did I ever know -what it was to be bored by them. The incident -might be commonplace—a bit of a flirtation, -the ordering of a costume, the blunder of a negro -servant; but it was always Sylvia who was telling -it—there was always the sparkle of her eyes, the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>mischievous smile, the swift glow of her countenance. -And as the story progressed, suddenly -would come some incident so wild that it would -make you catch your breath; some fantastic, -incredible extravagance; some strange, quixotic -trait of character. You would find yourself face -to face with an attitude to life out of the Middle -Ages, with some fierce, vivid passion that carried -you back even farther.</p> - -<p class='c011'>What a world it is! I know that it exists—for -Sylvia took me home with her twice. I saw -the Major wearing his faded gray uniform (it -was “Reunion Day”) and discoursing upon the -therapeutic qualities of “hot toddies.” I watched -the negro boy folding and unfolding the newspaper, -because Mrs. Castleman was obeying her -physician and avoiding unnecessary exertion. -I shook hands with Master Castleman Lysle, -whose names were reversed by special decree of -the state legislature, so that the memory of his -distinguished ancestress might be preserved to -posterity. And yet it will always seem like a -fairy-story world to me. I can no more believe -in the courtly Bishop, praying over my unrepentant -head, than I can believe in Don Quixote. -As for “Uncle Mandeville”—I could more easily -persuade myself that I once talked with Pan -Zagloba in the flesh.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I have Sylvia’s picture on my desk—the youthful -picture that means so much to me, with its -strange mixture of coquetry and wistfulness, of -mischief and tenderness. Downstairs in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>dining-room is the portrait of Lady Lysle, which -is so much like her that strangers always mistook -it. And if that be not enough, now and then -Elaine steals into my room, and, silent as a shadow, -takes her seat upon the little stool beside me, -watching me with her sightless eyes. Her fingers -fly swiftly at her knitting, and for hours, if need -be, she moves nothing else. She knows by the -sound of my pen that I am busy; with the wonderful -acuteness of the blind she knows whether -I am successful or not, whether what I write be -joyous or painful.</p> - -<p class='c011'>How much she knows—much more than I -dream, perhaps! I wonder about it, but I never -ask her. Both Frank and I have tried to talk -to her, but we cannot; it is cowardly, pitiful, -perhaps—but we cannot! She used to ask questions -in the beginning, but she must have felt -our pain, for she asks no more; she simply haunts -our home, the incarnation of the tragedy. So -much of her mother she has—the wonderful red-brown -eyes, the golden hair, the mobile, delicate -features. But the sparkle of the eyes and the -glow in the cheeks, the gaiety, the rapture—where -are they? When I think of this, I clutch my -hands in a sort of spasm, and go to my work -again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Or perhaps I go into Frank’s den and see him -sitting there, with his haggard, brooding face, -his hair that turned gray in one week. He never -asks the question, but I see it in his eyes: “How -much have you done to-day?” A cruel taskmaster -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>is that face of Frank’s! He is haunted -by the thought that I may not live to finish the -story.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The hardest thing of all will be to make you see -Sylvia as she was in that wild, wonderful youth -of hers, when she was the belle of her state, when -the suitors crowded about her like moths about -a candle-flame. How shall one who is old and -full of bitter memories bring back the magic -spirit of youth, the glamor and the glow of it, -the terrifying blindness, the torrent-like rush, the -sheer, quivering ecstasy of it?</p> - -<p class='c011'>What words shall I choose to bring before you -the joyfulness of Sylvia? When I first met her -she was twenty-six, and had known the kind of -sorrow that eats into a woman’s soul as acid -might eat into her eyes; and yet you would think -she had never been touched by pain—she moved -through life, serene, unflinching, a lamp of cheerfulness -to every soul who knew her. I met her -and proceeded to fall in love with her like the -veriest schoolgirl; I would go away and think -of her, and clasp my hands together in delight. -There was one word that kept coming to me; -I would repeat it over and over again—“Happy! -Happy! Happy!” She was the happiest soul -that I have ever known upon the earth; a veritable -fountain of joy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I say that much; and then I hasten to correct -it. It seems to be easy for some people to smile. -There comes to me another word that I used -to find myself repeating about Sylvia. She was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>wise! She was wise! She was wise with a -strange, uncanny wisdom, the wisdom of ages -upon ages of womanhood—women who have -been mothers and counselors and homekeepers, -but above all, women who have been managers -of men! Oh, what a manager of men was Sylvia! -For the most part, she told me, she managed them -for their own good; but now and then the irresistible -imp of mischievousness broke loose in her, -and then she managed them any way at all, so -long as she managed them!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Yet that, too, does her less than justice, I -think. For you might search all over the states -of the South, where she lived and visited, and -where now they mention her name only in whispers; -and nowhere, I wager, could you find a -man who had ceased to love her. You might -find hundreds who would wish to God that she -were alive again, so that they might run away -with her. For that is the third thing to be noted -about Sylvia Castleman—that she was good. -She was so good that when you knew her you -went down upon your knees before her, and never -got up again. How many times I have seen the -tears start into her eyes over the memory of what -the imp of mischievousness and the genius of -management had made her do to men! How -many times have I heard her laughter, as she -told how she broke their hearts, and then used -her tears for cement to patch them up again!</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 2</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>I realize that I must make some effort to tell -you how she looked. But when I think of words—how -futile, stale and shopworn seem all the -words that come to me. In my early days my -one recreation was cheap paper-covered novels -and historical romances, from which I got my -idea of the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grand monde</span></i>. Now, when I try to -think of words with which to describe Sylvia, -it is their words that come to me. I know that -a heroine must be slender and exquisite, must -be sensitive and haughty and aristocratic. Sylvia -was all this, in truth; but how shall I bring to -you the thrill of wonder that came to me when -I encountered her—that living joy she was to -me forever after, so different from anything the -books had ever brought me!</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was tall and very straight, free in her -carriage; her look, her whole aspect was quick -and eager. I sit and try to analyze her charm, -and I think the first quality was the sense she -gave you of cleanness. I lived with her much; -I saw her, not merely made up for parties, but -as she opened her eyes in the morning; and I -cannot recall that I ever saw about her any of -those things that offend us in the body. Her -eyes were always clear, her skin always fair; I -never saw her with a cold, or heard her speak of -a headache. If she were tired, she would not -tell you so—at least, not if she thought you needed -her. If there was anything the matter with her, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>there was only one way you found it out—that -she stopped eating.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She would do that at home, when someone -was ill and she was under a strain. She would -literally fade away before your eyes—but still -just as cheerful and brave, laughing at the protests -of the doctors, the outcries of her aunts -and her colored “aunties.” At such times she -had a quite new kind of beauty, that seemed to -strike men dumb; she used to make merry over -it, saying that she could go out when other -women had to shut themselves behind curtains. -For thinness brought out every line of her exquisitely -chiseled features; every quiver of her -soul seemed to show—her tense, swift being was -as if cut there in living marble, and she was some -unearthly creature, wraith-like, wonderful, thrilling. -There were poets in Castleman County; -they would meet her in this depleted state, and -behave after the fashion of poets in semi-tropical -climates—stand with their knees knocking and -the perspiration oozing out upon their foreheads; -they would wander off by moonlight-haunted -streams and compose enraptured verses, and come -back and fall upon their knees and implore her -to accept the poor, feeble tribute of their adoration.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I have seen her, too, when she was strong and -happy, and then she would be well-made and -shapely, with a charm of a more earthly sort. -Then her color would be like the roses she always -carried; and in each of her cheeks would appear -the most adorable of dimples, and under her chin -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>another. She had a nose that was very straight -and finely carved; and right in the center, under -the tip, the sculptor had put a tiny little groove. -She had also a chin that was very straight, and -right in the center of this was a corresponding -little groove. You will laugh perhaps; but those -touches added marvelously to the expressiveness -of her countenance. How they would shift and -change when, for instance, her nostrils quivered -with anger, or when the imp of mischievousness -took possession of her, and the network of quaint -wrinkles gathered round her eyes!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Dimples, I know, are an ultra-feminine property; -but Sylvia’s face was not what is ordinarily -called feminine—it was a kind of face that painters -would give to a young boy singing in a church. -I used to tell her that it was the kind they gave -to angels of the higher orders; whereupon she -would put her arms about me and whisper, “You -old goose!” She had a pair of the strangest red-brown -eyes, soft and tender; and then suddenly -lighting up—shining, shining!</p> - -<p class='c011'>I don’t know if I make you see her. I can -add only one detail more, the one that people -talked of most—her hair. You may see her hair, -very beautifully done, in the portrait of Lady -Lysle. The artist was shrewd and put the great -lady in a morning robe, standing by the open -window, the sunlight falling upon a cascade of -golden tresses. The color of Sylvia’s hair was -toned down when I knew her, but they told me -that in her prime it had been vivid to outrageousness. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>I sit before the painting, and the -present slips away and I see her as she was in -the glow of her youth—eager, impetuous, swept -with gusts of merriment and tenderness, like a -mountain lake in April.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So the old chroniclers report her, nine generations -back, when she came over to marry the -Governor of Massachusetts! They have her -wedding gown preserved in a Boston Museum, -and the Lysles have a copy of it, so that each -generation can be married in one like it. But -Sylvia was the first it became, being the first -blonde since her great progenitor. How strange -seems such a whim of heredity—not merely the -color of the hair and eyes, the cut of the features, -but a whole character, a personality hidden away -somewhere in the germ-plasm, and suddenly -breaking out, without warning, after a couple -of hundred years!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 3</h3> - -<p class='c010'>When I think of Sylvia’s childhood and all the -hairbreadth escapes of which she told me, I marvel -that she ever came to womanhood. It would -seem to be a perilous part of the world to raise -children in, with horses and dogs and guns, and -so many half-tamed negroes—to say nothing of -all the half-tamed white people. Sylvia had -three younger sisters and whole troops of cousins—the -Bishop’s eleven children, and the children -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>of Barry Chilton, his brother. I picture their -existence as one long series of perilous escapes, -with runaway horses, kicking mules and biting -dogs, and negroes who shot and stabbed one -another in sudden, ferocious brawls, or set fire -to Castleman Hall in order that some other negro -might be suspected and lynched.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Also there were the more subtle perils of the -pantry and the green-apple orchard. I did not -see any accident during my brief stay at the -place, but I saw the dietetic ferocities of the -family and marveled at them. It seemed to me -that the life of that most precious of infants, -Castleman Lysle, was one endless succession of -adventures with mustard and ipecac and castor -oil. I want somehow to make you realize this -world of Sylvia’s, and I don’t know how I can -do it better than by telling of my first vision of -that future heir of all the might, majesty and -dominion of the Lysles. It was one of the rare -occasions when the Major was taking him on a -journey. The old family horses were hitched to -the old family carriage, and with a negro on the -box, another walking at the horses’ heads, a third -riding on a mule behind, and a fourth sent ahead -to notify the police, the procession set forth to -the station. I know quite well that I shall be -called a liar; yet I can only give my solemn -word that I saw it with my own eyes—the chief -of police, duly notified, had informed all the -officers on duty, and the population of a bustling -town of forty thousand inhabitants, in the United -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>States of America in the twentieth century, were -politely requested not to drive automobiles along -the principal avenue during the half hour that -it took to convey Master Lysle to the train! -And of course such a “request” was a command -to all the inhabitants who were genteel enough -to own automobiles. Was not this the grandson -of the late General Castleman, the grand-nephew -of a former territorial governor? Was he not -the heir of the largest, the oldest and the most -famous plantation in the county, the future dispenser -of favors and arbiter of social fates? Was -he not, incidentally, the brother of the loveliest -girl in the state, to whom most of the automobile -owners in the town had made violent love?</p> - -<p class='c011'>I would like to tell more about that world and -Sylvia’s experiences in it—some of those amazing -tales! Of the negro boy who bit a piece out -of the baby’s leg, because he had heard someone -say that the baby looked sweet enough to eat; -of the negro girl who heard a war-story about -“a train of gun-powder,” and proceeded with -Sylvia’s aid to lay such a train from the cellar -to the attic of the house. I would like to tell -the whole story of her girlhood, and the strange -ideas they taught her; but I have to pick and -choose, saving my space for the things that are -necessary to the understanding of her character.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia’s education was a decidedly miscellaneous -one at first. “I think it is time the child had -some regular training,” her great-aunt, Lady -Dee, would say to the child’s mother. “Yes, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>I suppose you are right,” would be the answer. -But then Lady Dee would go, and Major Castleman -would come in, observing, “It’s marvelous -the way that child picks things up, Miss Margaret.” -(A habit from his courtship days, you -understand.) “We must be careful not to overstimulate -her mind.” To which his wife would -respond, agreeably, “I’m sure you know best, -Mr. Castleman.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Every morning Sylvia would go with her father -on his rounds to interview the managers of the -three plantations; the Major in his black broadcloth -frock-coat, a wide black hat and a white -“bosom” shirt, riding horseback with an umbrella -over his head, and followed at a respectful distance -by his “boy” upon a mule. On these -excursions Sylvia would recite the multiplication -table, and receive lessons in the history of her -country, from the point of view of its unreconstructed -minority. Also she had lessons on this -subject from her great-aunt, who never paid one -of her numerous servants their small quarterly -stipend that she did not exclaim: “Oh, how I -<em>hate</em> the Yankees!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>I must not delay to introduce this great-aunt, -who was Sylvia’s monitress in the arts and graces -of life, and left her on her death-bed such a curious -heritage of worldliness. Lady Dee was the last -surviving member of a younger branch of the -line of the Lysles. She was not a real countess, -like her great ancestress; the name “Lady” had -been given her in baptism. Early in the last -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>century she had come over the mountains in a -lumbering coach, with an escort of mounted -riders, to marry the Surveyor General of the -Territory. She still had a picture of this coach, -along with innumerable other treasures in cedar -chests in her attic: fan-sticks of carved ivory, -inlaid with gold; gold garter buckles with wonderful -enameling; old seals and silver snuff-boxes; -rare jewels, such as white topazes and red -amethysts; and a whole trunkful of the curious -tiny silk parasols with which great ladies used -to protect their creamy complexions—no more -than ten inches across, and with handles of -inlaid and carven ivory. When Sylvia was a -little girl with two pigtails hanging down her -back, it was one of the joys of her life to explore -these treasures, and deck herself in faded ball -costumes and chains of jewels and gold.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Also, from Lady Dee she received contributions -to her moral training; not in set discourses, but -incidentally and by allusions. Rummaging in -the cedar chests she once came upon a miniature -which she had never seen before; a lady in whom -she recognized the eyes of the Lysles, and the -arrogance which all their portraits show. “Who -is this, Aunt Lady?” she asked; and the old -gentlewoman frowned and answered, “We never -speak of her, my dear. She is the one woman -who ever disgraced our name.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia hesitated a long time before she spoke -again. She had heard much of family skeletons -in the table-talk—but always other families. -“What did she do?” she asked, at last.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>“She was married to three men,” was the -reply.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Again Sylvia hesitated. “You mean,” she -ventured—“you mean—at the same time?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Lady Dee stared. “No, my dear,” she said, -gravely. “Her husbands died.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But—but—” began the other, timidly, groping -to find her way in a strange field of thought.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If she had been a woman of delicacy,” pronounced -Lady Dee, “she would have been true -to one love.” Then, after a pause, she added, -solemnly, “Remember this, my child. Think -before you choose, for the women of our family -are like Sterne’s starling—when they have once -entered their cage, they never come out.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was Lady Dee who objected to the desultory -nature of Sylvia’s education, and began a campaign, -as a result of which the Major sent her off -to a “college” at the age of thirteen. You must -not be frightened by this imposing statement, -for it is easy to call yourself a “college” in the -South. Sylvia was away for three years, during -which she really studied, and acquired much more -than the usual accomplishments of a young lady.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had an extraordinarily capable mind; serene -and efficient, like everything else about her. -When I met her I was a woman of forty-five, -who a few years before had broken with my -whole past, having discovered the universe of -knowledge. I had been like a starving person -breaking into a well-filled larder, and stuffing -myself greedily and promiscuously. I had taken -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>upon myself the task of contending with other -people’s prejudices, and my rapture over Sylvia -Castleman was partly the realization that here -was a woman—actually a woman—who had no -prejudices whatever. She wanted me to tell -her all I knew; and it was a great delight to -expound to her a new set of ideas, and see her -mind go from point to point, leaping swiftly, laying -hold of details, ordering, comparing—above -all, applying. That you may have a picture of -this mind in action, let me tell you what she did -in her girlhood, all unassisted—how she broke -with the religion of her forefathers.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 4</h3> - -<p class='c010'>That brings me to the Bishop, Basil Chilton, -who had come into the family by marriage to -one of Sylvia’s aunts. At the time of his marriage -he had been a young Louisiana planter, handsome -and fascinating. He had met Nannie Castleman -at a ball, and at four o’clock in the morning had -secured her promise to marry him before sunset. -People said that he was half drunk at the time, -and this was probably a moderate estimate, for -he had been wholly drunk for a year or two -afterwards. Then he had shot a man in a brawl -and, despite the fact that he was a gentleman, -had almost been punished for it. The peril had -sobered him; a month or two later, at a Methodist -<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>revival, he was converted, made a sensational -confession of his sins, and then, to the horror -of his friends, became a preacher of Methodism.</p> - -<p class='c011'>To the Castlemans this was a calamity—to -Lady Dee a personal affront. “Whoever heard -of a gentleman who was a Methodist?” she demanded; -and as the convert had no precedents -to cite, she quarreled with him and for many -years never spoke his name. Also it was hard -upon Nannie Castleman—who had entered her -cage and had to stay! They had compromised -on the bargain that the children were to be -brought up in her own faith, which was Very -High Church. So now the unhappy preacher, -later Bishop, sat in his study and wrote his sermons, -while one by one his eleven children came -of age, and danced and gambled and drank themselves -to perdition in the very best form imaginable. -When I met the family, the last of the -daughters, Caroline, was just making her <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">début</span></i>, -and her mother, nearly sixty, was the gayest -dancer on the floor. It was the joke of the -county, how the family automobile would first -take the Bishop to prayer meeting, and then return -to take the mother and the children to a ball.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Basil Chilton looked like an old-world diplomat, -as I had come to conceive that personage from -reading novels. He had the most charming -manners—the kind of manners which cannot be -cultivated, but come from nobility of soul. He -was gentle and gracious even to servants; and -yet imposing, with his stately figure and smooth, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>ascetic face, lined by care. He lived just a pony-ride -from Castleman Hall, and almost every -morning during vacations Sylvia would stop and -spend a little while with him. People said that -he loved her more than any of his own children.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So you can imagine what it meant when one -day the girl said to him, “Uncle Basil, I have -something to tell you. I’ve been thinking about -it, and I’ve made up my mind that I don’t believe -in either heaven or hell.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Where had she got such an idea? She had -certainly not learned it at the “college,” for the -institution was “denominational” and had no -text-books of later date than 1850. Somewhere -she had found a volume of Huxley’s “Lay Sermons,” -but she had got nothing out of that, for -the Major had discovered her reading page three, -and had solemnly consigned the book to the -flames. No, it was simply that she had been -thinking for herself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The Bishop took it well. He did not try -to frighten her, he did not even show her his -distress of mind. He told her that she was an -angel, the very soul of purity and goodness, and -that God would surely lead her to truth if only -she kept herself humble. As Sylvia put it to me: -“He knew that I would come back, and I knew -that I would never come back.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And that was the situation between them to -the very end—the bitter end. He always believed -that she would learn to see things as he saw -them. He died a year or so ago, the courtly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>old gentleman—consoled by the thought that he -was now to meet his God and Sylvia face to face, -and hear the former explain to the latter the -difference between Divine Law and mere human -ideas of Justice.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The rest of the family were not so patient -as the Bishop. To have a heretic in the household -was even worse than having a Methodist! -Mrs. Castleman, who agreed with the Bible as -she agreed with everything, was dumb with -bewilderment; while the Major set to work to -hunt out dusty volumes from the attic. He read -every word of Paley’s “Evidences” aloud to his -daughter, and some of Gladstone’s essays, and -several other books, the very names of which -she forgot. You may smile at this picture, but -it was a serious matter to the Castlemans, who -had based their morality upon the fear of fire -and brimstone and the weeping and gnashing of -teeth, and who kept Sylvia three months from -school to impress such images upon her imagination.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There were several religious sects represented -in the county. These were generally at war with -one another, but they all made common cause -in this emergency, and committees of old ladies -from the “Christians,” the “hard-shell Baptists,” -the “predestination Presbyterians,” would come -to condole with “Miss Margaret,” and would -kneel down in the parlor with Sylvia and pray -for her salvation, shedding tears over the cream -velour upholstery of the hand-carved mahogany -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>sofas. A distant cousin who was “in orders,” -a young gentleman of charming presence and -special training in dialectics, was called in to -answer the arguments of this wayward young -lady, and stayed for three days, probing deeply -into his patient’s mind—not merely her theological -beliefs, but the attitude to life which underlay -them. When he had finished he said to her, -“My dear Sylvia, it is my opinion that you are -the most dangerous person in this county.” She -told me the story, and added, “I hadn’t the -remotest idea what the man meant!” But I -answered her that he had been perfectly right. -In truth, he was a seer, that young clergyman!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 5</h3> - -<p class='c010'>There was a general feeling that Sylvia had -learned more than was good for her; and so the -family made inquiries, and selected the most -exclusive and expensive “finishing school” in -New York, for the purpose of putting a stop to -her intellectual development. And so we come -to the beginning of Sylvia’s wordly career, and to -the visit she paid to Lady Dee—who now, at the -age of ninety, felt herself failing rapidly, and wished -to leave to her great-niece her treasures of worldly -counsel.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Lady Dee was one of those quaint figures you -meet in the South, who go to balls and parties -<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>when they are old enough to be sewing the <em>layettes</em> -of their great-grandchildren. I have seen a picture -of her at the age of eighty-five, in a cerise-colored -silk ball-gown with a lace “bertha,” her -white hair curled in front and done in a pile with -a coronet of diamonds. You must imagine her -now, in an invalid’s chair upon the gallery, but still -with her hair dressed as of old; telling to Sylvia -tales of her own young ladyhood—and incidentally, -with such deftness that the girl never guessed -her purpose, introducing instruction in the strategy -and tactics of the sex war.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Life was short, according to Lady Dee, and the -future was uncertain. A woman bloomed but -once, and must make the most of that. To be -the center of events during her hour, that was -life’s purpose; and to achieve it, it was necessary -to know how to hold men. Men were sometimes -said to be strange and difficult creatures, but in -reality they were simple and easily handled. The -trouble was that most women went blindly at -the task, instead of availing themselves of the -wisdom which their sex had been storing up for -ages, in the minds of such authorities as Lady Dee.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The old lady went on to expound the science -of coquetry. I had read of the sex game, as it -is played in the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grand monde</span></i>, but I had never supposed -that the players were as conscious and -deliberate as this veteran expert. She even used -the language of battle: “A woman’s shield, my -child, is her innocence; her sharpest weapon is -her <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">naïveté</span></i>. The way to disarm a man’s suspicions -<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>is to tell him what you’re doing to him—then -you’re sure he won’t believe it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She would go into minute details of these Amazonian -arts: how to beguile a man, how to promise -to marry him without really promising, how to -keep him at the proper temperature by judicious -applications of jealousy. Nor was this sex war -to stop after the wedding ceremony—when most -women foolishly laid down their weapons. A -woman must sleep in her armor, according to -Lady Dee. She must never let her husband -know how much she loved him, she must make -him think of her as something rare and unattainable, -she must keep him in a state where her -smile was the greatest thing in life to him. Said -the old lady, gravely: “The women of our family -are famous for henpecking their husbands—they -don’t even take the trouble to hide it. I’ve -heard your grandfather, the General, say that -it was all right for a man to be henpecked, if -only it was by the right hen.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A training, you perceive, of a decidedly worldly -character; and yet there was nothing upon which -Sylvia’s relatives laid more stress than the preserving -of what they called her “innocence.” -There were wild people in this part of the world—high-spirited -and hot-tempered, hard drinkers -and fast livers; there were deeds of violence, -and strange and terrible tales that you might -hear. But when these tales had anything to do -with sex, they were carefully kept from Sylvia’s -ears. Only once had this rule been broken—an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>occasion which made a great impression upon the -child. The daughter of one of the neighboring -families had eloped, and the dreadful rumor was -whispered that she had traveled in a sleeping-car -with the man, and been married at the end of the -journey, instead of at the beginning.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And there was Uncle Mandeville, the youngest -of the Major’s brothers—half drunk, though -Sylvia did not know it—pacing the veranda and -discussing the offending bridegroom. “He should -have been shot!” cried Mandeville. “The damned -scoundrel, he should have been shot like a dog!” -And suddenly he paused before the startled child. -He was a giant of a man, and his voice had the -power of a church-organ. He placed his hands -upon Sylvia’s shoulders, pronouncing in solemn -tones, “Little girl, I want you to know that -I will protect the honor of the women of our -family with my life! Do you understand me, -little girl?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And Sylvia, awe-stricken, answered, “Yes, Uncle -Mandeville.” The worthy gentleman was so -much moved by his own nobility and courage that -the tears stood in his eyes; he went on, melodramatically, -“With my life! With my life! -And remember the boast of the Castlemans—that -there was never a man in our family who -broke his word, nor a woman with a stain upon -her name!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>That had been in Sylvia’s childhood. But -now she was a young lady, about to start for the -metropolis, and the family judged that the time -<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>had come for her to be instructed in some of these -delicate matters. There had been consultations -between her mother and aunts, in which the -former had been prodded on to the performing -of one of the most difficult of all maternal duties. -Sylvia remembered the occasion vividly, for her -mother’s agitation was painful to witness; she -led the girl solemnly into a darkened room, and -casting down her eyes, as if she were confessing -a crime, she said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My child, you will probably hear evil-minded -girls talking of things of which my little daughter -has never heard. When these things are discussed, -I want you to withdraw quietly from the -company. You should remain away until vulgar -topics have been dismissed from the conversation. -I want your promise to do this, my -daughter.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Her mother’s sense of shame had communicated -itself to Sylvia. At first she had been -staring wonderingly, but now she cast down her -own eyes. She gave the desired promise; and -that was all the education concerning sex that -she had during her girlhood. This experience -determined her attitude for many years—a mingling -of shame and fear. The time had come for -her to face the facts of her own physical development, -and she did so with agony of soul, and in -her ignorance came near to injuring her bodily -health.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Also, the talk had another consequence, over -which Mrs. Castleman would have been sorely -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>distressed had she known it. Though the girl -tried her best, it was impossible for her to avoid -hearing some of the “vulgar” conversation of the -very sophisticated young ladies at the “finishing -school.” In spite of herself, she learned something -of what sex and marriage meant—enough -to make her flesh creep and her cheeks burn with -horror and disgust. It seemed to her that she -could no longer bear to meet and talk to men. -When she came home for the Christmas holidays -and discovered that her mother was expecting a -child, the thought of what this meant filled her -with shame for both her parents; she wondered -how they could expect a pure-minded girl to love -them, when they had so degraded themselves. -So intense was this impression that it continued -over the Easter vacation, when she returned to -find the house in possession of the new heir of -all the might, majesty and dominion of the -Lysles.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 6</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Miss Abercrombie’s “finishing school” was -located on Fifth Avenue, immediately opposite—so -the catalogue informed you—to the mansions -of the oldest Knickerbocker families. It was -Miss Abercrombie’s boast that she had married -more than half her young ladies to millionaires, -and she took occasion to drop allusions to the -subject to all whom it might interest. She ran -<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>her establishment upon an ingenious plan, about -half her pupils being the daughters of Western -buccaneers, who paid high prices, and the other -half being the daughters of Southern aristocrats, -accepted at reduced rates. So the young ladies -from the West got the “real thing” in refinement, -and the young ladies from the South made acquaintances -whose brothers were “eligible.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia had always had everything that she -wanted, and was under the impression that immense -sums of money had been spent upon her -upbringing. But among these new associates she -found herself in the class of the poorest. She -had never owned a dress which they would consider -expensive, whereas the dresses of these girls -were trimmed with real lace, and cost several -hundreds of dollars each. It was a startling -experience to many of them to discover that -a girl who had so few jewels as Sylvia could be -so haughty and self-possessed; which was, of -course, just what they had come for—to acquire -that superiority to their wealth which is the apex -of culture in millionairedom.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So Sylvia became an uncrowned queen, and all -the lumber princesses and copper duchesses and -railroad countesses vied in entertaining her. -They treated her to box-parties, where, duly -chaperoned, they listened to possibly indecent -musical comedies; and to midnight feasts where -they imperiled their complexions with peanut -butter and almond paste and chocolate creams -and stuffed olives and anchovies and crackers -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>and mustard pickles and fruit cake and sardines -and plum pudding and sliced ham and salted -almonds—and what other delicacies might come -along in anybody’s boxes from home. To aid -in the digestion of these “goodies” Sylvia was -taken out twice daily, and marched in a little -private parade up Fifth Avenue, wearing a hat -so large that all her attention was required to -keep it on in windy weather, and so heavy that -it made her head ache if the air were still; a collar -so high that she could not bend her head to balance -the hat; high-heeled shoes upon which she toddled -with her feet crowded down upon the toes; and -a corset laced so tight that her lower ribs were -bent out of shape and her liver endangered. -About the highest testimony that I can give to -the altogether superhuman wonderfulness of Sylvia -is that she stayed for two years at Miss Abercrombie’s, -and came home a picture of radiant health, -eager, joyous—and lovely as the pearly tints of -dawn.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She came home to prepare for her <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">début</span></i>; and -what an outfit she brought! You may picture -her unfolding the treasures in her big bedroom, -which had been freshly done over in pink silk; -her mother and aunts and cousins bending over -the trays, and the negro servants hovering in the -doorway, breathless with excitement, while the -“yard-man” came panting up the stairs with -new trunks. Such an array of hats and gowns -and <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">lingerie</span></i>, gloves and fans, ribbons and laces, -silk hose and satin slippers, beads and buckles! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>The “yard-man,” a negro freshly promoted from -the corn-fields, went down into the kitchen with -shining eyes, exclaiming, “I allus said dis house -was heaven, and now I knows it, ’cause I seen -dem ‘golden slippers’!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was not a time for a girl to do much philosophizing; -but Sylvia knew that these “creations” -of Paris dressmakers had cost frightful sums of -money, and she wondered vaguely why the family -had insisted upon them. She had heard rumors -of a poor crop last year, and of worries about -some notes. Glad as the Major was to see her, -she thought that he looked careworn and tired.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Papa,” she said, “I’ve been spending an awful -lot of money.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, honey,” he answered.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I hope you don’t think I have been extravagant, -Papa.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, no, honey.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I tried to economize, but you’ve no idea how -things cost in New York, and how those girls -spend money. My clothes—Mamma and Aunt -Nannie <em>would</em> have me buy them——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s all right, my child—you have only one -springtime, you know.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia paused a moment. “I feel as if I ought -to marry a very rich man, after all the money -you’ve spent upon me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Whereat the Major looked grave. “Sylvia,” -he said, “I don’t want any daughter of mine to -feel that she has to marry. I shall always be -able to support my children, I hope.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>This was noble, and Sylvia was grateful for it; -but with that serene, observing mind of hers she -could not help noting that if her father by any -chance called her attention to some man of her -acquaintance, it was invariably a “marriageable” -man; and always there was added some detail as to -the man’s possessions. “Billy Harding’s a fellow -with a future before him,” he would remark. -“He’s one of the cleverest business men I know.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was also impressed with a comical -phrase of her mother’s, which seemed to indicate -that that good lady classified poverty with smallpox -and diphtheria. The Major had suggested -inviting to supper a young medical student who -was honest but penniless; and “Miss Margaret” -replied, “I really cannot see what we have to -gain by exposing our daughters to an undesirable -marriage.” Sylvia concluded that her family -pinned its faith to the maxim of Tennyson’s -“Northern Farmer”—</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Doän’t thou marry for munny, but goä wheer -munny is!”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 7</h3> - -<p class='c010'>You must have a glimpse of Castleman Hall -as it was at the time of the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">début</span></i>. The old house -stands upon a hill, terraced on one side, and -overlooking the river from a high bluff on the -other. It is of red brick, originally square, with -a two-storied portico and hanging balcony in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>front; later on there had been added two wings -of white painted wood, for the library and conservatory—now -nearly covered with red roses and -Virginia creepers. On the afternoon of the great -day there was a reception to all the married -friends of the family. They came in conveyances -of every kind, from family coaches to modern -high-power limousines; they came in costumes -varying from the latest Paris modes to the antebellum -splendor of old Mrs. Tagliaferro, who -hobbled cautiously over the polished hardwood -floors, with the help of her gold-headed cane on -one side, and her husband, the General, on the -other. Once arrived, she laid her hands upon -Sylvia’s, and told her how pretty she was, and -how she must contribute a new stone to the -archway through which the Castlemans had -marched to fame for so many generations. There -had been many famous Castleman beauties, -quavered the old gentleman, in his turn, but none -more beautiful than the present one—save only, -perhaps, her mother. (This last as “Miss Margaret” -appeared at his elbow, clad in ample -folds of gray satin and tulle.) So one by one -ladies and gentlemen came up and delivered gallant -speeches and grave exhortations, until Sylvia -was overwhelmed with the sense of responsibility -involved in being a daughter of the Castlemans.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And then came the evening, with the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">début</span></i> -dance for the young people. Ten years later I -saw Sylvia in the gown she wore: white chiffon -over white messaline, with roses and a string of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>pearls. Wonderful she must have been that -night, at the age of eighteen, the climax of her -beauty; eager, glowing, a-quiver with excitement. -I picture her standing before the mirror, childishly -ravished by her own loveliness, her mother -and aunts, scarcely less excited, putting the final -touches to her toilette. I picture her girl friends -in the dressing-room and the hall, gossiping, -chattering, laughing; the buzz of excitement, -then the hush when she appeared, the cries of -congratulation and applause. I picture the downstairs -rooms, decorated with lilies, magnolias and -white ribbons, the furniture covered with white -brocade, the chandeliers turned into great bells -of lilies, the soft light from white-shaded candles -flooding everything. I picture the swains, waiting -eagerly at the foot of the staircase, each with -a bouquet for his chosen one in his hand. I can -hear the strains of the violins floating up the -staircase, and see the shimmering form of Sylvia -floating down, crowned with her dazzling glory -of golden hair. There was no one in Castleman -County who failed to realize that a belle was born -that night!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 8</h3> - -<p class='c010'>It was just a week after these festivities that -there occurred the death of Sylvia’s great-aunt. -Nothing could have been more characteristic -than the method of her departure. She left home -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>and betook herself to an aristocratic boarding-house, -kept by a “decayed gentlewoman” in New -Orleans; she might be a long time a-dying, she -said, and did not want anybody making a fuss -over her. Also she did not care to have her -nieces and nephews calling in to drop hints as -to the disposition of her rosewood bedroom set, -her miniature piano and her Queen Anne baby’s -crib. She left a will in which she bequeathed -her property to her grand-niece, Sylvia Castleman, -to be held in trust for her until she was -forty years of age. “Some man will take care of -her while she is beautiful,” she wrote, “but later -on she may find use for my pittance.” And -finally the old lady put in a clause to the effect -that the bequest was conditional upon her grand-niece’s -obeying her injunction to wear no mourning -for her. “It is impossible to make a woman -with brown eyes look presentable in black,” she -wrote. And this, you understand, in a document -which had to be filed for probate! Most fortunate -it was that all the editors of newspapers in the -South are gentlemen, who can be relied upon not -to print the news.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia obeyed the instructions of this extraordinary -document, and felt it a solemn duty to -go to entertainments, even with tears in her eyes. -So now began a bewildering succession of dinners, -dances and receptions, balls and suppers, house -parties, hunting parties, auto parties, theatre -parties. It speaks marvels for her constitution that -she was able to stand the strain. When the last -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>light had been extinguished she would drag herself -upstairs to bed, a limp train hung over her -limp arm, her feet aching in the tiny slippers -and her back aching in the cruel stays. The -Governor saw fit to appoint her as his “sponsor” -at the state militia encampment; and so for ten -days she would rise every morning at daybreak, -ride out with an “escort” to witness guard-mount, -and remain in the midst of a rush of -gaieties until three or four o’clock the next morning, -when the nightly dance came to an end.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia always refused to give photographs of -herself to men. It was part of her feeling about -them that she could not endure the thought of -her image being in their rooms. But her enterprising -Aunt Nannie, the Bishop’s wife, presented -one to the editor of a metropolitan magazine, -where it appeared under the heading of “A -Reigning Beauty of the New South.” It was -taken up and reproduced in Southern papers, -and after that Sylvia found that her fame had -preceded her—everywhere she went new worshippers -joined her train, and came to her hometown -to lay siege to her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>You may perhaps know something about these -Southern men. I had never dreamed of such, -and I would listen spellbound for hours to Sylvia’s -tales of them. Men who, as Lady Dee had -phrased it, had nothing to do but make love to -their women! There were times when the realization -of this brought me a shudder. I would see, -in a sudden vision, the torment of a race of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>creatures who were doomed to spend their whole -existence in the chase of their females; and the -females devoting their energies to stinging them -to fresh frenzies!</p> - -<p class='c011'>The men liked it; they liked nothing else in the -world so much. “You may make me as unhappy -as you please,” they would tell Sylvia—“if only -you will let me love you!” And Sylvia, in the -course of time, became reconciled to letting them -love her. She learned to play the game—to play -it with constantly increasing excitement, with a -love of mischief and a thirst for triumph.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She would show her latest victim twenty moods -in one evening, alluring him, repelling him, stimulating -him, scorning him, pitying him, bewildering -him. When they met again, she would be -completely absorbed in the conversation of another -man. He would be reduced at last to -begging for a chance to talk seriously with her; -and she, pretending to be touched, might let him -call, and show him her loveliest and most sympathetic -self. So, before he realized it, he would -be caught fast. If he happened to be especially -conspicuous, or especially rich, or especially otherwise -worth while, she might take the trouble to -goad him to desperation. Then he would be -ready to give proofs of his devotion—to go through -West Point, or to be made a judge, if only she -would promise to marry him. Each of these -tasks she set to an unfortunate wretch, who went -off and performed it—and came back and found -her married!</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 9</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Such were the customs of young ladies in -Sylvia’s world; but I must not fail to mention -that she had sometimes the courage to set her -face against this “world.” For instance, she -had a prejudice against drunkenness. She stood -fast by the bold precedent that she would never -permit an intoxicated person to dance with her; -and terrible humiliations she put upon two or -three who outraged her dignity. They hid in -their rooms in an agony of remorse, and sent -deputations of their friends to plead for pardon, -and went away from home and stayed for months, -until Sylvia consented to take them into her -favor again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She took her place upon the icy heights of her -maidenhood, and was not to be drawn therefrom. -There were only two men in the world, outside -of fathers and uncles and cousins, who could -boast that they had ever kissed her. About -both of these I shall tell you in the course of -time. She was famous among other men for -her reserve—they would make wagers and lay -siege to her for months, but no one ever dared -to claim that he had secured his kiss.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With boyish frankness they would tell her of -these things; they told her all they thought -about her. I have never heard of men who -dealt so frankly in personalities, who would discuss -a woman and her various “points” so openly -to her face. “Miss Sylvia, you look like all your -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>roses to-night.”—“Miss Sylvia, I swear you’ve -got the loveliest eyes in the world!”—“You’ll be -fading soon now; you’d better marry while you’ve -got a chance!”—“I came to see if you were as -pretty as they say, Miss Castleman!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She would laugh merrily. “Are you disappointed? -Don’t you find me ado’able?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So far I have made no attempt to give you an -idea of Sylvia’s way of speaking English. It was -a drawl so charming that Miss Abercrombie had -given instructions not to mar it by rash corrections. -I can only mention a few of her words—which -is as if I gave you single hairs out of her -golden glory. She always spoke of “cannles.” -She could, of course, make nothing of the letter r, -and said “funnichuh” and “que-ah” and “befo-ah -mawnin’.” There had been an English heiress -at Miss Abercrombie’s who had won the whole -school over to “gel,” but when Sylvia arrived, she -swept the floor with “go-il.” The most irresistible -word of all I thought was “bug;” there is no way -to indicate this by spelling—you must simply -take three times as long to say it, lingering over -the vowel sound, caressing it as if you thought -that “bu-u-u-gs” were the most “ado’able” -things in all the “wo’il.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia learned to apply with deadly effect the -maxim of Lady Dee—that a woman’s sharpest -weapon is her <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">naïveté</span></i>. “Beware of me!” she -would warn her helpless victims. “Haven’t you -heard that I’m a coquette? No, I’m not joking. -It’s something I’m bitterly ashamed of, but I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>can’t help it; I’m a cold-hearted, selfish creature, -a deliberate breaker of hearts.” And then, of -course, the victim would thrill with excitement -and exclaim, “See what you can do to me, Miss -Sylvia! I’ll send you armfuls of roses if you can -break my heart!” You may judge how these -competitions ended from a chance remark which -Sylvia made to me—“When I look back upon -my life, it seems to me that I waded in a river -of roses.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The only protection which nature has vouchsafed -against these terrors is the fact that sooner -or later such cold and cruel huntresses themselves -get snared. In the simile of “Sterne’s starling,” -they are lured up to a certain cage, and after -much hopping about and hesitating, much advancing -and retreating, much chattering and -chirping, they adorn themselves in satin robes -and lace veils and lilies-of-the-valley, and to the -sound of sweet strains from “Lohengrin” they -enter the golden cage. And then, snap! the door -is shut and locked fast, and the proprietor of the -cage mounts guard over it—in Sylvia’s part of -the world with a shotgun in his hands.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 10</h3> - -<p class='c010'>So I come to the time when this haughty lady -was humbled; that is to say, the time of her -meeting with Frank Shirley. Because it was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>through Harriet Atkinson that she came to know -him, I must first tell you in a few words about -that active and pushing young lady.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Harriet Atkinson was the one weak spot in -the fortifications of respectability which Sylvia’s -parents had built up about her. Harriet’s ancestors -were Yankees, of the very most odious -“carpet-bag” type. Her grandfather had been -a pawnbroker in Boston, so fierce rumor declared; -and her father was a street-railroad president, who -purchased “red-neck” legislators for use in his -business. Harriet herself was a brunette beauty, -so highly colored that she looked artificial, no -matter how hard she tried to look natural.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But in spite of these appalling facts, Harriet -Atkinson was the most intelligent girl whom -Sylvia had met during her three years at the -“college.” She had a wit that was irresistible, -and also she understood people. You might -spend weeks in her company and never be bored; -whereas there were persons who could prove -possession of the “very best blood in the South,” -but who were capable of boring you most frightfully -when they got you alone for half an hour.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was never allowed to go to Harriet’s -home, nor was Harriet ever asked to Castleman -Hall. But Sylvia refused to give up her friend, -and for a year she intrigued incessantly to force -Harriet upon her hostesses, and to persuade her -own suitors to call at the Atkinson home. In -the end she married her off to the scion of a great -family—with consequences which are to be told -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>at a later stage of my story. The point for the -present is that things happened exactly as Sylvia’s -aunts had predicted; through her intimacy with -the undesirable Harriet Atkinson she was “exposed” -to the acquaintance of several undesirable -men, among them Frank Shirley.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia had known about the Shirleys from -earliest childhood. She had heard the topic -talked about at the family dinner-table, and had -seen tears in her father’s eyes when the final -tragedy came. For the Shirleys were among the -“best people,” and this was not the kind of thing -which was allowed to happen to such.</p> - -<p class='c011'>About twelve years previously the legislature -had appropriated money for the building of a -veterans’ home, and the funds had been entrusted -to a committee, of which Robert Shirley was -treasurer. The project had lapsed for a couple -of years, and when the money was called for, -Robert Shirley was unable to produce it. Rumors -leaked out, and there came a demand in the -legislature for an accounting.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The Major was one of a committee of friends -who were asked by the Governor to make a private -investigation. They found that Shirley had -deposited the money to his private bank account, -after the unbusinesslike methods of a Southern -gentleman. Checks had been drawn upon it; -but there was evidence at the bank tending to -show that the checks might not have been signed -by Shirley himself. He had a younger brother, -a spendthrift and gambler, whom he had indulged -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>and protected all his life. Such were the hints -which Sylvia had heard at home—when suddenly -Robert Shirley proceeded to the state Capitol -and requested the Governor to stop the investigation, -declaring that he alone was to blame.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was a terrible thing. Shirley was besought -to fly, he was told by the Governor’s own authority -that he might live anywhere outside the state, -and the search for him would be nominal. But -he stood fast; the money was gone, and some one -must pay the penalty. So the world saw the -unprecedented spectacle of a man of “good -family” standing trial, and receiving a sentence -of five years in the penitentiary.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He left a broken-hearted wife and four children. -Sylvia remembered the horror with which her -mother and her aunts had contemplated the fate -of these latter. Two girls, soon to become young -ladies, and cut off from all hope of a future! -“But, Mamma,” Sylvia cried, “it isn’t <em>their</em> fault!” -She recollected the very tone of her mother’s -voice, the dying away to a horrified whisper at -the end: “My child, their father <em>wore stripes</em>!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The Shirleys made no attempt to hold up their -heads against the storm, but withdrew into strict -seclusion on their plantation. Now, ten years -later, Robert Shirley having died in prison, his -widow was a pitiful shadow, his daughters were -hopeless old maids, and his two sons were farmers, -staying at home and acting as their own managers.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Of these, Frank Shirley was the elder. I am -handicapped in setting out to tell you about him -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>by the fact that he sits in the next room, and -will have to read what I write; he is not a man -to stand for any nonsense about himself—nor yet -one whose ridicule an amateur author would -wish to face. I will content myself with stating -simple facts, which he cannot deny; for example, -that he is a man a trifle below the average height, -but sturdily built and exceedingly powerful. He -had in those days dark hair and eyes, and he -would not claim to have been especially bad-looking. -He is the most reserved man I have -ever known, but his feelings are intense when they -are roused, and on these rare occasions he is -capable of being eloquent. He is, in general, -a very solid and dependable kind of man; he -does not ask anything of anybody, but he is -willing to give, cautiously, after he has made -sure that his motive will be understood. As I -read that over, it seems to me a judicious and -entirely unsentimental statement about him, -which he will have to pass.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was, he tells me, a lively boy; but after -the age of eleven he always had, as the most -prominent fact in his consciousness, the knowledge -that men set him apart as something different -from themselves. And this, of course, made -intercourse with them difficult; if they were -indifferent to him, that was insult, and if they -were cordial, then they were taking pity upon -him. He always knew that the people who met -him, however politely they greeted him, were -repeating behind his back the inevitable whisper, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>“His father wore stripes!” So naturally he found -it pleasanter not to meet people.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then, too, there were his mother and sisters; -it was hard not to be bitter about them. He -knew that the girls were gentle and lovely; and -it rather made men seem cowardly, that it should -be certain that no one in their own social world -would ever ask them in marriage. There is so -much asking in marriage in the South—it is -really difficult for a gentlewoman to be passed -over altogether. The Shirley girls could not -discuss this, even in the bosom of their family; -but Frank came to understand, and to brood -over the thing in secret.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 11</h3> - -<p class='c010'>So you see Frank Shirley was a difficult man to -get at—as much so as if he had been an emperor -or an anchorite. I have been interested in the -psychology of sex, and I wondered how much -this aloofness had to do with what happened to -Sylvia. There were so many men, and they -were all so much alike, and they were all so easy! -But here was a man who was different; a man -whom one could not get at without humiliating -efforts; a man of mystery, about whom one -could imagine things! I asked Sylvia, who -thought there might be something in this; but -much more in a deeper fact, which is known -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>to poets and tellers of love-tales, but has not -been sufficiently heeded by scientists—that intuitive, -commanding and sometimes terrifying revelation -of sexual affinity, which we smile at and -discredit under the name of “love at first sight.” -The first time Sylvia met Frank she did not -know who he was; she saw at first only his back; -and yet she began at once to experience a thrill -which she had never known in her life before. -Absurd as they may sound, I will repeat her -words: “There was something about the back -of his neck that took my breath!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It had been some years since she had heard -the Shirleys mentioned. They had quietly declined -all invitations, and this made it easy for -everybody to do with decency what everybody -wanted to do—to cease sending invitations. The -Shirley plantation was remotely located, some -twenty miles away from Castleman Hall; and -so little by little the family had been forgotten.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But there was a certain Mrs. Venable, a young -widow who owned a hunting-lodge near the Shirley -place; and as fate would have it, she was -one of the people whom Sylvia had persuaded to -take up Harriet Atkinson. One day, as the latter -was driving to the lodge in her automobile, she -was “mired” in the midst of a terrific thunderstorm, -when along came a gentleman on horseback, -who politely insisted upon her taking his -waterproof, and then mounting behind him and -riding to his home up on the hill; by which -romantic method the delighted Harriet found -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>herself conveyed to an old and evidently aristocratic -homestead, and welcomed by some altogether -lovely people.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Being younger than Sylvia, and not so much -on the “inside” as to local history, Harriet had -been obliged to get the story from Mrs. Venable. -It had heightened her interest in the Shirleys—for -Harriet’s great merit was that she was human -and spontaneous where she should have been -respectable. She went to call again on the -family, and when she got home she made haste -to tell Sylvia about it. “Sunny,” she said—that -was her way of taking liberties with Sylvia’s -complexion—“you ought to meet that man -Frank Shirley.” She went on to tell how good-looking -he was, how silent and mysterious, and -what a fine voice he had. “And the sweetest, -lazy smile!” she declared. “I’m sure he could -be a lady-killer if he did not take life so seriously!” -So, you see, Sylvia had something to start her -imagination going, and a reason for accepting -Mrs. Venable’s invitation to a hunting party.</p> - -<p class='c011'>One sunshiny morning in the late fall she was -taking part in a deer-hunt, carrying a rifle and -looking as picturesque as possible. They put her -on a “stand” with Charlie Peyton, who ought -to have been at college, but was hanging round -making a nuisance of himself by sighing and -gazing. After waiting a half hour or so, off in -the woods they heard a dog yelping. Charlie -went off to investigate, thinking it might be a -bear; and so Sylvia was left to her fate.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>She heard a sound in the bushes at one side, -and thought it was a deer. The creature moved -past her, hidden by a dense thicket, and passed -a little way ahead, with a heavy trampling sound. -She had half raised her gun, when suddenly the -bushes parted, and with a leap over a fallen log -there came into view—not a deer, but a horse -with a rider upon his back.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The girl lowered her gun. The dog yelped -again and the man reined up his horse and stood -listening. The horse was restive; as he drew -rein upon it, it turned slightly, exhibiting -the rider’s face. To the outward eye he was a -not unusual figure, wearing the khaki shirt and -knickerbockers affected by the younger generation -of planters when on duty. The shirt was -open, with a red bandana handkerchief tucked -round at the throat.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Sylvia was not looking with the outward -eye. Sylvia had been reading romances, and had -a vague idea of a lover who would some day -appear, being distinguished from the ordinary -admirers of salons and ball-rooms by something -knightly in his aspect. And this man seemed to -have that something. His face was a face of -power, yet not harsh, rather with a touch of -melancholy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As a rule Sylvia was immediately observant -of her own emotional states, especially where -men were concerned; but this once she was too -much interested to think what she was thinking. -She was noting the man’s deeply-shadowed eyes -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>and shiny black hair, his statue-like figure and -his mastery of the horse. She wondered if he -would look in her direction, and she waited, fascinated, -for the moment when his glance would -rest upon her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The moment came. He started slightly, and -then quickly his hand went up to his hat. “I -beg your pardon,” he said, politely.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia noted his deep, full-toned voice; and -with a sudden thrill she recollected Harriet’s -adventure. “Can this be Frank Shirley?” she -thought. She caught herself together and smiled. -“It is for me to beg pardon,” she said. “I came -near shooting at you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I deserved it,” he answered, smiling in turn. -“I was trespassing on my neighbor’s land.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia had by now been “out” a full year, -and it must be admitted that she was a sophisticated -young lady. When she met a man, her -thought was: “Could I love him? And how -would it be if I married him?” Her imagination -would leap ahead through a long series of scenes: -the man’s home, his relatives and her own, his -occupations, his amusements, his ideas. She -would see herself traveling with him, driving with -him, presiding at dinner-parties for him—perhaps -helping to get him sober the next morning. As -a drowning man is said to live over his whole -past in a few seconds, so Sylvia might live her -whole future during a figure at a “german.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But with this man it was different. She could -not imagine him in any position in her world. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>He was an elemental creature, belonging in some -wild place, where there was danger to be faced -and deeds to be done. Sylvia had read “Paul -and Virginia,” and “Robinson Crusoe,” and -“Typee,” and in her mind was a vague idea of -a primitive, close-to-nature life, which one yearned -for when one was tightly laced, or was sent into -the parlor to entertain an old friend of the family. -She imagined this strange knight springing forward -and lifting her upon his saddle-bow, to bear -her away to such a world. She could feel his -powerful arms about her, his whispered words -in her ear; she could hear the clatter of his horse’s -hoofs—away, away!</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had to make another effort, and remember -who she was. “You are not lost, I suppose?” -he was asking.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, no,” she said. “I am on a ‘stand.’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Of course,” he replied; again there was a -pause, and again Sylvia’s brain went whirling. -It was absurd how the beating of her heart kept -translating itself into the clatter of horse’s hoofs.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The man turned for a moment to listen to the -dog; and she stole another look at him. His -eyes came back and caught her glance. She -absolutely had to say something—instantly, to -save the situation. “I—I am not alone,” she -stammered. Oh, how dreadful—that she, Sylvia -Castleman, should stumble over words!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My escort has gone to look for the dog,” she -added. “He will be back in a moment.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh,” he said; and Sylvia noted a sudden -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>change in his expression—a set, repressed look. -She saw the blood mounting slowly, until it -colored his cheeks to a crimson.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I beg your pardon,” he said, coldly. “Good-morning.” -He turned his horse and started on -his way.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He had taken her words as a dismissal. But -that was the least part of the mistake. Sylvia -read his mind in a flash—he was Frank Shirley, -and he thought that she had recognized him, and -was thinking of his father who had worn stripes! -Yes, surely it must be that—for what right had -he to be hurt otherwise—that she did not care -to stand conversing with a strange man in a -forest?</p> - -<p class='c011'>The thought sent her into a panic. She thought -of nothing but the cruelty of that idea. “No, -no!” she cried, the tears almost starting into her -eyes. “I did not mean to send you away at all!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He turned, startled by her vehemence. For -a moment or two they stood staring at each other. -The girl had this one swift thought: “How -dreadful it must be to have such a thing in your -mind, to have to be waiting for insults from -people—or at best, for pity!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then, in his quiet voice, he said, “I really -think I had better go.” Again he turned his -horse, and without another glance rode away, -leaving Sylvia staring at his vanishing figure, -with her hands tightly clutching her gun.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 12</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>After that Sylvia felt that she had in common -decency to meet Frank Shirley. She asked nothing -more about her motives—she simply <em>had</em> to -meet him, to remove one thought from his mind. -But for two days she was at her wit’s end, and -went round bored to death by everything and -everybody. She had a sudden whim to be let -alone; and how difficult it is to be let alone at -a house party! There was the everlasting Charlie -Peyton, looking at her out of sickly blue eyes, and -forever trying to get hold of her hand; there was -Billy Aldrich, with his sybaritic silk socks, his -shiny finger nails and talcum-powdered face; -there was Malcolm McCallum, a dandy from -Louisville, with his endless stream of impeccable -suits and his caravan of trunks; there was Harvey -Richards, a “steel-man” from Birmingham, who -had thrown his business to the winds and settled -down to the task of boring Sylvia. He was big -and burly, and had become the special favorite -of her family; he dandled the baby brother and -made fudge with the sisters—but Sylvia declared -viciously that his idea of love-making was to -poke at her with his finger.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She took to getting up very early in the morning, -so that she could go riding alone. As there -was but one road, it was not her fault if she passed -near the Shirley place. And if by any remote -chance he were to be out riding too——</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was the third morning that she met him. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>He came round a turn, and it all happened in a -flash, before she had time to think. He gave -her the stiffest greeting that was consistent with -good breeding; and then he was past. Of course -she could not look back. It was ten chances to -one that he would not do the same, but still he -might, and that would be dreadful.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She went on. She was angry with herself for -her stupidity. That she should have met him -thus, and had no better wit than to let him get -by! Theoretically, of course, ladies cannot stop -gentlemen to whom they have not been introduced; -but there are always things that can -happen, in cases of emergency like this. She -thought of plans, and then she fell into a rage -with herself for thus pursuing a man.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The next morning when she went riding, she -forced herself to turn the horse’s head in the -other direction from the Shirley place. But her -thoughts would come back to Frank, and presently -she was making excuses for herself. This -man was not as other men; if he avoided her, -it was not because he did not want to know her, -but because of his misfortune. It was wicked -that a man should be tied up in such a net of -misapprehension; to get him out of it would be, -not unmaidenly, but heroic. When she had met -him yesterday morning, she ought to have stopped -her horse, and made him stay and talk with her. -She was to leave in two days more!</p> - -<p class='c011'>She turned her horse and went back; and -when she was near the Shirley house—here he -came!</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>She saw him far down the road, and so had -plenty of time to get her wits together. Had -he, by any chance, come out in the hope of -meeting her? Or would he be annoyed by her -getting in his way? Suppose he were to snub -her—how could she ever get over it?</p> - -<p class='c011'>She took a diamond ring from her finger, and -reached back and shoved it under the saddle-cloth. -It was a “marquise” ring, with sharp -points, and when she threw her weight upon it, -the horse gave a jump. She repeated the action, -and it began to prance. “Now then!” whispered -Sylvia to herself.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 13</h3> - -<p class='c010'>He came near; and she reined up her chafing -steed. “I beg pardon,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He raised his hat, and holding it, looked at -her inquiringly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I think my horse must have a stone in his -foot.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh!” he said, and was off in a moment, throwing -the reins of his mount over its head and -handing them to her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Which foot?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He bent down and examined one hoof, then -another, and so on for all four, without a word. -Then, straightening up, he said, “I don’t see -anything.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>He looked very serious and concerned. How -“easy” he would be! “There really must be -something,” she said. “He’s all in a lather.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There might be something deep in,” he answered, -making his investigation all over again. -“But I don’t see any blood.” (What a fine back -he has! thought Sylvia.)</p> - -<p class='c011'>He stood up. “Let me see his mouth,” he -said. “Are you sure you’ve not held him too -tight?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am used to horses,” was her reply.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Some of them have peculiarities,” he remarked. -“Possibly the saddle has rubbed——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, no,” answered Sylvia, in haste, as he -made a move to lift the cloth.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was always hard for her to keep from laughing -for long; and there was something so comical -in his gravity. Then too, something desperate -must be done, for presently he would mount and -ride away. “There’s surely no stone in his foot,” -he declared.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Whereat Sylvia broke into one of her radiant -smiles. “Perhaps,” she said, “it’s in <em>your</em> horse’s -foot!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He looked puzzled.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t you see?” she laughed. “Something -<em>must</em> be wrong—or you couldn’t be here talking -to me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But he still looked bewildered. “Dear me, -what a man!” thought she.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A color was beginning to mount in his cheeks. -Perhaps he was going to be offended! Clearly, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>with such a man one’s cue was frankness. So -her tone changed suddenly. “Are you Mr. -Shirley?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And do you know who I am?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Miss Castleman.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Our families are old friends, you know.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I know it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And then, tell me—” She paused. “Honestly!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why—yes.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ve been honest and told you—I’m not really -worried about my horse. Now you be honest -and say why you rode out this morning.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He waited before replying, studying her face—not -boldly, but gravely. “I think, Miss Castleman, -that it would be better if I did not.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then it was Sylvia’s turn to study. Was it -a rebuke? Had he not come out on her account -at all? Or was it still the ghost of his father’s -prison-suit?</p> - -<p class='c011'>He did not help her with another word. (I -can hear Frank’s laugh as he told me about this -episode. “We silent fellows have such an advantage! -We just wait and let people imagine -things!”)</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia’s voice fell low. “Mr. Shirley, you have -me at a great disadvantage.” And as she said -this she gazed at him with the wonderful red-brown -eyes, wide open, childlike. So far there -had never been a man who could resist the spell -of those eyes. Would this man be able? The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>busy little brain behind them was watching every -sign.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t understand,” he replied; and she -took up the words:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is <em>I</em> who don’t understand. And I dare -not ask you to explain!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was terrified at this temerity; and yet -she must press on—there was no other way. -She saw gates opening before her—gates into -wonderland!</p> - -<p class='c011'>She leaned forward with a little gesture of -abandonment. “Listen, Frank Shirley!” she -said. (What a masterstroke was that!) “I -have known about you since I was a little girl. -And I understand the way things are now, because -I am a friend of Miss Atkinson’s. She asked -you to come over and meet me, and you didn’t. -Now if the reason was that you have no interest -in me—why then I’m annoying you, and I’m -behaving outrageously, and I’m preparing humiliation -for myself. But if the reason is that you -think I wouldn’t meet you fairly—that I wouldn’t -judge you as I would any other man—why, don’t -you see, that would be cruel, that would be -wicked! If you were afraid that I wanted to—to -patronize you—to do good to you——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She stopped. Surely she had said enough!</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a long silence, while he gazed at -her—reading her very soul, she feared. “Suppose, -Miss Castleman,” he said, at last, “that -I was afraid that you wanted to do <em>harm</em> to me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>That was getting near to what she wanted! -“Are you afraid?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>“Possibly I am,” he replied. “It is easy for -those who have never suffered to preach to those -who have never done anything else.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia did not know quite how to meet that. -It was so much more serious than she had been -looking for, when she had slipped that ring under -the saddle-cloth! “Oh,” she cried, “what shall -I say to you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I will tell you exactly,” he said, “and then -neither of us will be taking advantage of the -other. You are offering me your friendship, are -you not?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, then, can you say to me that if I were -to accept it, the shame of my family would never -make any difference to you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She cried instantly, “That is what I’ve been -trying to tell you! Of course it would not.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You can say that?” he persisted. “It would -make no difference whatever?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was about to answer again; but he stopped -her. “Wait and think. You must know just -what I mean. It is not a thing about which -I could endure a mistake. Think of your family—your -friends—your whole world! And think -of everything that might arise between us!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She stared at him, startled. He was asking -if he might make love to her! She had not -meant it to go so far as that—but there it was. -Her own recklessness, and his forthrightness, had -brought it to that point. And what could she -say?</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>“Think!” he was saying. “And don’t try to -evade—don’t lie to me. Answer me the truth!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His eyes held hers. She waited—thinking, as -he forced her to. At last, when she spoke, it -was with a slightly trembling voice. “It would -make no difference,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And then she tried to continue looking at him, -but she could not. She was blushing; it was -a dreadful habit she had!</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was an absolutely intolerable situation, and -she must do something—instantly. <em>He</em> never -would—the dreadful sphinx of a man! She -looked up. “Now we’re friends?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” he replied.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then,” she said, laughing, “reach under the -saddle-cloth and get out my ring. I might lose -it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Bewildered, he got the ring, and understanding -at last, laughed with her. “And now,” cried -Sylvia, in her friendliest tone of voice, “get on -your horse again and behave like a man of enterprise! -Come!” She touched her mount and -went galloping; she heard him pounding away -behind her, and she began to sing:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Waken, lords and ladies gay,</div> - <div class='line'>On the mountain dawns the day,</div> - <div class='line'>All the jolly chase is near</div> - <div class='line'>With hawk and hound and hunting-spear!”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 14</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>They were good comrades now; all their problems -solved, and a stirrup-cup of happiness to -quaff between them. Sylvia was amazed at herself—the -surge of exultation which arose in her -and swept her along upon its crest. Never in all -her life had she been as full of verve and animation -as she was throughout that ride. She -laughed, she sang, she poured out a stream of -fantasy; and all the while the clatter of the -horses hoofs—romance blending itself with reality!</p> - -<p class='c011'>But also she was studying the man. There -was something in her which must always be -studying people. Thank Heaven, he was a man -who could forget himself, and laugh and be good -fun! It was something to have got him out of -his melancholy, and set him to galloping here—admiring -her, marveling at her! She felt his -admiration like a storm of wind pushing her -along.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At last she drew up, breathless. “Dear me,” -she exclaimed, “what a lot of chattering I have -done! And we must be—how many miles from -home?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ten, I should say,” he replied.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And I’ve had no breakfast!” she said. “We -really <em>must</em> go back.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He made no objection, and they turned. “You -must come and see me at the lodge,” she said. -“I am going home to-morrow afternoon.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But he shook his head. “Don’t ask me,” he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>replied. “You know I don’t belong among -smart people.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She started to protest; but then she thought -of Billy Aldrich with his tight collars and fancy -stick-pins—of Malcolm McCallum with his Japanese -valet; no, there was no use pretending -about such things. And besides, she did not -want these people to know her secret.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But where can we meet?” she said. (How -perfectly appalling was that—without any hint -from him!)</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Can’t we ride again to-morrow morning?” he -asked, quite simply.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so they settled it. He left her at the -place where the road turned in to the lodge. -He tried to thank her for what she had taken -the trouble to do; but she was frightened now—she -dared not stay and listen any longer to his -voice. She waved him a bright farewell, and -rode off, feeling suddenly faint and bewildered.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had half a mile or so to ride alone, and -in that ride it was exactly as if he were by her -side. She still heard his horse’s hoofs, and felt -how he would look if she were to turn. Once -she thought of Lady Dee, and then she could -not help laughing. What <em>would</em> Lady Dee have -said! How many of the rules of coquetry had -she not broken in the space of two brief hours! -But after a little more thought, she consoled herself. -Possibly there were moves in this game -which even Lady Dee had never heard of! “I -don’t think I managed it so badly,” she was saying -to herself, as she dismounted from her horse.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>And that was the view she took when she told -Harriet about it. She had not meant to tell -Harriet at all, but the secret would out—she had -to have some one to talk to. “Oh, my dear,” she -exclaimed, “he’s perfectly wonderful!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who? What do you mean?” asked Harriet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Frank Shirley.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What? You’ve met him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Met him? I’ve been riding with him the -whole morning, and I’ve almost let him propose -to me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia!” cried Harriet, aghast.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other stood looking before her, grown -suddenly thoughtful. “Yes, I did. And what’s -more, I believe that to-morrow morning I’m <em>going</em> -to let him propose to me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sunny,” exclaimed her friend, “are you a -woman, or one of Satan’s imps?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>For answer Sylvia took her seat at the piano -and began to sing—a song by which all her lovers -set much store:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Who is Sylvia? What is she,</div> - <div class='line in2'>That all our swains commend her?</div> - <div class='line'>Holy, fair and wise is she—</div> - <div class='line in2'>The heavens such grace did lend her</div> - <div class='line'>That she might adored be!”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 15</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia did very little thinking that first day—she -was too much possessed by feelings. Besides -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>this she had to go through all the routine of -a house party; to go to breakfast and make -apologies for her singular desire to ride alone; -to go quail-shooting and remind Charlie Peyton -to fire off his gun now and then; to curl her hair -and select a gown for dinner—and all the while -in a glow of happiness so intense as to come -close to the borderland of pain.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was not a definite emotion, but a vague, -suffused ecstasy. She was like one who goes -about hearing exquisite music; angels singing -in the sky above her, little golden bells ringing -in every part of her body. And then always, -penetrating the mist of her feelings, was the -memory of Frank Shirley. She could see his -eyes, as they had looked up at her; she could -hear the tones of his voice—its low intensity as -he had said, “Think of everything that might -happen between us!” She would find herself -blushing crimson at the dinner-table, and would -have to chatter to hide her confusion.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When night came she went into a sleep that -was a half swoon of happiness; and awoke in -the early dawn, first bewildered, then horrified, -because of what she had done—her boldness, -her lack of dignity and reserve. She had thrown -herself at a man’s head! And of course he would -be disgusted and would flee from her. She drank -her coffee and dressed a full half hour too early; -and meanwhile she was planning how she would -treat him that morning. But then, suppose he -did not come that morning?</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>She rode out in the light of a sunrise she did -not see, amid the song of birds she did not hear. -Suppose he did not come! When she saw him, -far up the road, she wanted to turn and flee. -Her heart pounded, her cheeks burned, there was -a clashing as of cymbals in her ears. She reined -up her horse and sat motionless, telling herself -that she must be calm. She clenched her hands -and bit a little hole in her tongue; and so, when -he arrived, he found a young woman of the world -awaiting him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She saw at once that something was wrong -with him. He too had been having moods and -agonies, and had come full of resolutions and -reservations! He greeted her politely, and had -almost nothing to say as they rode away together. -Sylvia’s heart sank. He had come because he -had promised; but he was regretting his indiscretions. -Very well, she would show him that she, -too, could be polite! Under the spur of her fierce -pride, she could be a light-hearted child, utterly -unaware of the existence of any sulking male.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So they rode on. It was such a beautiful -morning, the odor of the pine-forests was so refreshing -and the song of the birds so free, that -Sylvia was soon all that she had set out to pretend. -She forgot her cavalier for several minutes, laughing -and humming. When she realized him again, -she had the boldness to tease him about himself—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Oh, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Alone, and palely loitering?”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>And when he had no poetry ready to reply, she -grew tired of him altogether, and touched her -horse and cantered quickly on. Let him follow -her if he chose—what mattered it! Moreover, -she rode well, and men always noticed it; she -was bare-headed, and no man ever saw the -golden glory of her hair in bright sunlight that -his heart did not begin to quiver within him!</p> - -<p class='c011'>After a while he spurred his horse and rode at -her side, and without looking, she saw that he -was watching her. She gave him just a little -smile, absent-minded and barely polite. Resolving -to punish him still more, she asked him the -time. He gravely drew out his watch and replied -to her question. “I will ride as far as the -spring,” she said. “Then I must be going back.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But he did not make the expected protest. -He was going to lose her, and he did not care! -Oh, what a man!</p> - -<p class='c011'>As they drew near the spring, Sylvia began to -be uneasy again. She did not want him to lose -her; she wanted him to care. She stopped to -breathe her horse, and to look at the moss-ringed -pool of water, and at the field of golden-rod -beyond. “How lovely!” she said; and repeated, -“How lovely!” He never said a word—and -when he might so easily have said, “Let us stay -a while!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was growing desperate. Her horse had got -its breath and had had some water—what else? -“I must have some of that golden-rod!” she -exclaimed, suddenly. What was the matter with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>him, staring into space in that fashion? Had -he no manners at all? “I must have some -golden-rod,” she repeated; and when he still -made no move, she said, “Hold my horse, please,” -and started to dismount.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He sprang off, and took the reins of her horse, -and those of his own in the same hand, giving -his other hand to her. It was the first time he -had touched her, and it sent a shock through her -that sent her flying in a panic—out into the field -of flowers, where she could hide her cheeks and -her trembling!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 16</h3> - -<p class='c010'>He made the horses fast to the fence, carefully -and deliberately; and meantime she was gathering -golden-rod. She knew that she made a -picture in the midst of flowers. She was very -much occupied as he came to her side.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A moment later she heard his voice: “Miss -Castleman.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Panic seized her again, but she looked up, -with her last flicker of courage. “Well?” she -asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There is something I want to tell you,” he -began. “I can’t play this game with you—I am -no match for you at all.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why—what do you mean?” she managed to -say.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As usual, she knew just what he meant. “I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>am not a man who can play with his emotions,” -he said. “You must understand this at the -very outset—the thing is real to me, and I’ve -got to know quickly whether or not it is real to -you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There he was! Like a storm of wind that threatened -to sweep away her pretenses, the whole pitiful -little structure of her coquetry. But she could -not let the structure go; it was her only shelter, -and she strove desperately to hold it in place. -“Why should you assume that I play with my -emotions?” she demanded.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You play, not with your own, but with other -peoples’ emotions,” he replied. “I know; I’ve -heard about you—long ago.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She drew herself up haughtily. “You do not -approve of me, Mr. Shirley? I’m very sorry.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You must know—” he began.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But she went on, in a rush of defensive recklessness: -“You think I’m hollow—a coquette—a -trifler with hearts. Well, I am. It’s all I know.” -She flung her head up, looking at him defiantly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, Miss Castleman,” he said, “it’s <em>not</em> all -you know!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But her recklessness was driving her—that -spirit of the gambler that was in the blood of -all her race. “It <em>is</em> all I know.” She bent over -and began strenuously to pluck sprays of golden-rod.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“To break men’s hearts?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She laughed scornfully. “I had a great-aunt, -Lady Dee—perhaps you’ve heard of her. She -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>taught me—and I’ve found out through much -experience that she was right.” She gazed at -him boldly, over the armful of flowers. “‘Sylvia, -never let yourself be sorry for men. Let them -take care of themselves. They have all the -advantage in the game. They are free to come -and go, they pick us up and look us over and -drop us when they feel like it. So we have to -learn to manage them. And, believe me, my -child, they like it—it’s what they’re made for!’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And you believe such things as that?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She laughed, a superbly cynical laugh, and -began to gather more flowers. “I used to think -they were cruel—when I was young. But now -I know that Aunt Lady was right. What else -have men to do but to make love to us? Isn’t -it better for them than getting drunk, or gambling, -or breaking their necks hunting foxes? ‘It’s the -thing that lifts them above the brute,’ she used -to say. ‘Naturally, the more of them you lift, -the better.’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Did she teach you to deceive men deliberately?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She told me that when she was ordering her -wedding trousseau, she was engaged to a dozen; -a cousin of hers was engaged to another dozen, -and couldn’t make up her mind which to choose, -so she sent notes to them all to say that she’d -marry the man who got to her first.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He smiled—his slow, quiet smile. Sylvia did -not know how he was taking these things; nor -did his next remark enlighten her. “Did it not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>surprise you to be taught that men were the -centre of creation?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No. They taught me that God was a man.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He laughed, then became grave. “Why do -you need so many men? You can’t marry but -one.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not in the South. But when I am ready to -marry that one, I want it to be the one I want; -and the only way to be sure is to have a great -many wanting <em>you</em>. When a man sees a girl so -surrounded with suitors that he can’t get near -her, he knows it’s the one girl in the world for -him. Aunt Lady had a saying about it, full of -wisdom.” And Sylvia looked very wise herself. -“‘Men are sheep!’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I see,” he said, somewhat grimly. “I fear, -Miss Castleman, I cannot enter such a competition.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is it cowardice?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps. It has been said that discretion is -the better part of valor. You see, to me love is -not a game, but a reality. It could never be that -to you, I fear.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Poor Sylvia! She was trying desperately hard -to remember and make use of her training. But -the rules she had learned were, so to speak, for -fresh-water sailing; no one had ever thought -that her frail craft might be blown out upon -a stormy ocean like this. Picture her as a terrified -navigator, striving to steer with a broken -rudder, and gazing up into a mountain-wave that -comes roaring down upon her!</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>He was a man who meant what he said. She -had tried her foolish arts upon him and had only -disgusted him. He was going away; and once -he had left her, she would be powerless to get hold -of him again!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Love could never be a reality to her, he had -said. With sudden tears in her voice she exclaimed, -“It could! It could!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His whole aspect changed in a moment. A fire -seemed to leap into his eyes. “You mean that?” -he asked. And that was enough for her. As -he moved towards her, she backed away a step -or two. She thrust out the great bunch of -golden-rod, filling his arms with that, and retreated -farther into the yellow field.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He stood for a moment, nonplussed, looking -rather comical with his unexpected load. Then -he turned away without a word, and went to -where his horse was fastened, and began to tie -the flowers to his saddle.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She joined him before he had finished and -mounted her own horse, saying casually, “It is -late. We must return.” He mounted and rode -beside her in silence.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At last he remarked, “You are going away -this afternoon?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then where can I see you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You will have to come to my home.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause. “It will be a difficult -experience,” he observed. “You will have to -help me through it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>She answered, promptly, “You must come as -any other man would come. You must learn to -do that—you must simply not <em>know</em> what other -people are thinking.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>At which he smiled sadly. “There is nothing -in that. When everybody in the world is thinking -one thing about you, you find there’s no use -pretending not to know what it is.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There he was again—simple and direct. He -had a vision of the hostility of her relatives, the -horror of her friends; he went on to speak his -thoughts quite baldly. Was she prepared to face -these difficulties? She might have the courage, -she might not; but at least she must be forewarned, -and not encounter them blindly. She -said, “My own people will be kind, I assure you.” -And when he smiled dubiously, she added, -“Leave it to me. I promise you I’ll manage -them.”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 17</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia, as you know, had been taught to discuss -the affairs of her heart in the language of -military science. Continuing the custom, the -fortress of her coquetry had withstood an onslaught -which had brought dismay to the garrison, -who had never before known what it was to -be in real danger. In the hope of restoring confidence -to the troops there was now undertaken -a raid into the territory of perfectly innocent and -defenseless neighbors.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>The first victim was Charlie Peyton. He had -implored one last opportunity to prove his devotion—being -unable to imagine how his devotion -could be of no interest to Sylvia. So the guests -of the house party were treated to the amazing -spectacle of this dignified and self-conscious -youth standing for two hours in the crotch of -an apple-tree. Meanwhile Sylvia went off for -a walk with Malcolm McCallum; and when at -last Charlie’s time was up, and he set out in -search of her, he found his rival occupied in -crawling on his knees the length of a splintery -dock which ran out into the lake. Sylvia sat by, -absorbed in a book, and when Charlie questioned -her as to the meaning of this strange phenomenon, -she replied that Mr. McCallum (known to us -previously as “the Louisville dandy”) was probably -experimenting with the creases in his trousers.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Dressing for luncheon and the trip home, -Sylvia had a consultation with her friend Harriet. -“Do you suppose I’m really in love?” was her -question.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“With whom?” asked Harriet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Sylvia paid no heed to this feeble wit. -“I don’t think he approves of me, Harriet. He -thinks I’m shallow and vain—a trifler with hearts.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What would you have him think?” persisted -the other.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He isn’t like other men, Harriet. He makes -me ashamed of myself. I think I ought to treat -him differently.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Whereat her friend became suddenly serious. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>“Look here, Sunny, don’t you lose your nerve! -You stick to your game!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But suppose he won’t stand it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>Make</em> him stand it! Take my advice, now, -and don’t go trying experiments. You’ve learned -one way, and you’re a wonder at it—don’t get -yourself mixed up at the critical moment.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was gazing at herself in the mirror, -wondering at the look on her own face. “I don’t -know what to do next!” she cried.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The Lord takes care of children and fools,” -said Harriet. “I hope He’s on His job!” Then -the luncheon gong sounded, and they went downstairs.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a new man, who had arrived the -night before. He was named Pendleton, and -Sylvia found herself placed next to him. She -suspected that he had arranged this, and was -bored by the prospect, and purposely talked with -Charlie Peyton on her other side. Towards the -end of the meal a servant came in and whispered -to the hostess, who rose suddenly with the exclamation, -“Frank Shirley is here!” Amid the -general silence that fell Sylvia began suddenly -to eat with assiduity.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The hostess went out, and returned after a -minute or so with Frank at her heels. “Do sit -down,” she was saying. “At least have some of -this sherbet.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ve had my luncheon,” he replied; “I supposed -you’d have finished.” But he seated himself -at the table, as requested. There was a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>general pause, everybody expecting some explanation; -but he volunteered none.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Opposite to Sylvia was Belle Johnston, an -insipid young person who had a reputation for -wit, for which she made other people pay. “Did -you think it looked like rain, Mr. Shirley?” she -inquired. Sylvia could have destroyed her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The weather is very pleasant,” said Frank. -No one could be sure whether he was imperturbable, -or had missed the jest altogether.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Harriet, seeing her friend’s alarming appetite -and discomfort, stepped in now to save the -situation. “I hope you brought me a message -from your sister,” she remarked. “I am expecting -one.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Frank would have none of any such devices. -“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I haven’t -brought it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was furious. Had he no tact, no social -sense at all—not even any common gratitude? -He ought to have waited outside, where he would -have been less conspicuous; instead of sitting -there, dumb as an oyster, looking at her and -obviously waiting for her! Sooner or later everyone -must notice.</p> - -<p class='c011'>With a sudden impulse she turned to the man -at her side. “I am sorry you came so late,” she -said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am more than sorry,” he replied, brightening -instantly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I really must go home this afternoon,” she -said.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>He was encouraged by her tone of regret. -“I think I will tell you something,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I came here on purpose to meet you. I was -visiting my friends, the Allens, at Thanksgiving, -and all the men there were talking of you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This, of course, was ancient history to Sylvia. -“What were they saying?” she asked—and stole -a glance at Frank.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They said you’d never let a man go without -hurting him. At least, not if you thought him -worth while.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dear me!” she exclaimed, astonished and -flattered. “I wonder that you weren’t afraid to -meet me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I was amused,” answered the other. “I -thought to myself, I’d like to see her hurt me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia lifted her delicate eyebrows and gave -him a slow, quiet stare, four-fifths scorn and one-fifth -challenge.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Gad!” he exclaimed. “You are interesting -for a fact! When you look like that!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not otherwise?” she inquired, now wholly -scornful.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, you’re not the most beautiful woman -I ever saw! Nor the cleverest!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do not challenge me like that.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why not?” he laughed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You might regret it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It would be a good adventure—I’d be willing -to pay the price to see the game. I admire a -woman who knows her business.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>So the banter continued; the man displaying -his cleverness and Sylvia casting upon him -glances of mockery, of contempt, half veiling -curiosity and interest. He, of course, being -secretly convinced of his own irresistibility, was -noting these glances and speculating about them, -thrilled by them without realizing it, persuading -himself that the girl was really coming to admire -him. This was a kind of encounter which had -occurred, not once, but a hundred times in Sylvia’s -career, and usually it meant nothing in particular -to her. But now it brought a reckless joy, because -of the shock it was giving to that other -man—the terrible man who sat across the way, -his eyes boring into her very soul!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 18</h3> - -<p class='c010'>When the luncheon was over, Sylvia made -her way to Harriet Atkinson and caught her by -the arm. “Harriet!” she exclaimed. “You -must help me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What?” whispered the other.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can’t see him!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But why not?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He wants to lecture me, and I won’t stand -it! I’m going into the garden—take him somewhere -else—you must!” Then, seeing Frank -making toward her, she gave Harriet a vicious -pinch, and fled from the room. There was a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>summer-house in the garden at the far end, and -thither she went upon flying feet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I was never sure how it happened—whether, -as Harriet always vowed, she tried to hold Frank -and could not, or whether she turned traitor to -her friend. At any rate Sylvia had been there -not more than a minute, and had scarcely begun -to get control of herself, when she heard a step, -and looking up, saw Frank Shirley coming down -the path.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was but one door to the summer-house—and -he soon occupied that. “Go away!” she -cried. “Go away!” (That was all that was -left of her <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">savoir faire</span></i>!)</p> - -<p class='c011'>He stopped. “Miss Castleman,” he said—and -his voice was hard, “I came here to see you. But -now I’m sorry I came.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The garrison rallied as to a trumpet-call. -“That is too bad, Mr. Shirley,” she said, with -appalling <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">hauteur</span></i>. “But you know you do not -have to stay an instant.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He gazed at her in doubt for a moment. Her -heart was pounding and the color flooding her -face. “I don’t believe you know what you are -doing!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Really!” she replied, witheringly. “Do you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” he went on, “I don’t understand you at -all. But I simply <em>will</em> find out!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He strode towards her. She shrank into the -seat, but he caught her hands. For a moment -she resisted; but he held fast, and from his hands -she felt a current as of fire, flowing through all -her veins.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>Slowly he drew her to her feet. “Sylvia!” he -whispered. “Sylvia! Look at me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She obeyed him instinctively, and their eyes -met. “You love me!” he exclaimed. She could -hear his quick breathing. She felt herself sinking -towards him. She felt his arms about her, his -breath upon her cheek.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I love you!” he murmured. And she closed -her eyes, and he kissed her again and again. In -his kisses it seemed to her that she would melt -away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was exultant and happy. The testimony -of his love was rapture to her. But then suddenly -came a fear which they had inculcated in her. -All the women who had ever talked to her on the -problem of the male-creature—all agreed that -nothing was so fatal as to allow the taking of -“liberties.” Also there came sudden shame. -She began to struggle. “You must not kiss me! -It is not right!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Sylvia!” he protested. “I love you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, stop!” she pleaded. “Stop!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You love me!” he whispered.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please, please stop!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A gentle pressure would have held her, but -she felt that he was releasing her—all but one -hand. She sank down upon the seat, trembling. -“Oh, you ought not to have done it!” she cried.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He asked, “Why not?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No man has ever done that to me before!” -The thought of what he had done, the memory -of his lips upon her cheek, sent the blood flying -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>there in hot waves; she began to sob: “No, no! -You should not have done it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia!” he pleaded, surprised by her vehemence. -“Don’t you realize that you love me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know! I’m afraid! I must have -time!” She was weeping convulsively now. -“You will never respect me again!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You must not say such a thing as that! It -is not true!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You will go away and remember it, and you -will despise me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His voice was calm and very soothing. “Sylvia,” -he said, “I have told you that I love you. And -I believe that you love me. If that is so, I had -a perfect right to kiss you, and you had a perfect -right to let me kiss you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There he was, sensible as ever; Sylvia found -the storm of her emotion dying away. She had -time to recall one of the maxims of Lady Dee: -“A woman should never let a man see her weeping. -It makes her cheeks pale and her nose red.” -She resolved that she would stay in the protecting -shadows of the summer-house until after he -had departed.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 19</h3> - -<p class='c010'>She went home; and at the dinner-table she -was telling some of the adventures of the house party. -“Oh, by the way,” she said, carelessly, -“I met Frank Shirley.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>“Really?” exclaimed Mrs. Castleman. “Those -poor, unfortunate people!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He must be quite a man now,” said Aunt -Varina. “How old is he?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“About twenty-one,” said the mother. Sylvia -was amazed; she had not thought definitely of -his age, but he had seemed a mature man to her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I see him now and then,” put in the Major. -“He comes to town. Not a bad-looking chap.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He asked if he might call,” said Sylvia. “I -told him, Yes. Was that right, Papa?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, certainly,” was the reply.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He seems a very shy, silent kind of man,” -she added. “He wasn’t sure that he’d be welcome.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, my dear,” exclaimed Mrs. Castleman. -“I’m sure we’ve never made any difference in our -treatment of the Shirleys!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Bob Shirley’s children will always be welcome -to my home, so long as they behave themselves,” -declared the father.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so Sylvia left the matter, content with -their attitude. Frank was wrong in his estimate -of her family.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Two days later there came a negro man, riding -a mule and carrying a bag, with a note from -Frank. He begged her to accept this present of -quail, because she had lost so much of her hunting -time, and Charlie Peyton’s aim had been so bad. -Sylvia read the note, and got from it a painful -shock. The handwriting was boyish and -the manner of expression crude. She was used -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>to leisure-class stationery, with her monogram -in gold at the top, and this was written upon a -piece of cheap paper. Somehow it made the -whole matter seem unreal and incredible to her. -She found herself trying to recall how he looked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So she went to sleep; and awakening early the -next morning, waiting for the agreeable tinkle of -the approaching coffee-cup—there suddenly he -came to her! Just as real as he had been in the -summer-house, with his breath upon her cheek! -The delicious, blinding ecstasy possessed her -again—and then fresh humiliation at the memory -of his kisses! Oh, why did he not come to see -her—instead of leaving her the prey of her fancy? -She could not escape from the idea that she had -lost his respect by flinging herself at his head—by -permitting him to kiss her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The next morning came the negro again, this -time with a great bunch of golden-rod. “What -a present!” exclaimed the whole family; but -Sylvia understood and was happy. “It’s because -of my hair,” she told the others, laughing. It -must be that he loved her, despite her indiscretions!</p> - -<p class='c011'>He wrote that he was coming to see her that -evening; and that because of the length of the -ride, he would accept her invitation and come to -dinner. So Sylvia braced herself for the ordeal.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She dressed very simply, so as not to attract -attention. Uncle Mandeville was there, and two -girl cousins from Louisville, visiting the family, -and two of the Bishop’s boys and one of Barry -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>Chilton’s, who dropped in at the last moment to -see them. That was the way at Castleman Hall—there -were never less than a dozen people at -any meal, and the cook allowed for twenty. To -all this crowd Sylvia had to introduce her strange -new conquest, ignoring their glances of inquiry -and parrying their mischievous shafts.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I must let you see this family at dinner. At -the head of the table sits the Major, with gray -hair and a gray imperial, wearing his black vest -cut so low that he can plead it is evening dress; -still adhering valiantly to the custom of his -fathers, and carving the roast for his growing -family, while the littlest girls, who come last, -follow each portion with hungry eyes and count -the number intervening. At the foot sits Mrs. -Castleman, serving the salad and dessert, her -ample figure robed in satin. “Miss Margaret” -is just at that stage of her life, after the birth -of the son and heir, when she has definitely -abandoned the struggle with an expanding waistline. -When I met her, some years later, she -weighed two hundred and eighty pounds, and -was the best-natured and most comically inefficient -human soul I have ever encountered in -my life.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There is Aunt Varina Tuis, humble and inconspicuous, -weary after a day of trotting up and -down stairs after the housekeeper, to see that the -embroidered napkins were counted before they -went to the laundry, that the drawing-room furniture -was dusted, the dead flowers taken out of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>the dining-room, the fleas in the servants’ quarters -kept in subjection. Mrs. Tuis’ queer little voice -is seldom heard at the dinner-table, unless she is -appealed to in some matter of family history: -whom this one married, whom that one had -been engaged to, whether or not it was true that -some neighbor’s grandfather had kept a grocery -store, as rumored.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then there is Uncle Mandeville, home to -recuperate from a spree in New Orleans; enormous -in every direction, rosy-faced and prosperous, -with a resounding laugh and an endless flow of -fun. Beside him sits Celeste, the next daughter, -presenting a curious contrast to Sylvia, with her -restless black eyes, her positive manner and -worldly viewpoint. There are the two cousins -from Louisville, healthy and radiant, and the -two Chilton boys, Clive and Harley, and Barry’s -boy, who is a giant like Uncle Mandeville, and -whenever he laughs, makes the cut glass to rattle -on the buffet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>All this family hunts in one pack. They know -all each other’s affairs, and take an interest in -them, and stand together against the rest of the -world. They are a noisy crew, good-humored, -careless, but with hot tempers and little control -of them—so that when their interests clash and -they get on one another’s toes, they quarrel as -violently as before they loved. Their conversation -is apt to be bewildering to a stranger, for -they seldom talk about general questions, having -a whole arcanum of family allusions not easily -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>understood. At this meal, for example, they are -merry for half an hour over the latest tales of the -doings of an older brother of Clive and Harley, -who has married a girl with rich parents, but is -too proud to take a dollar from them, and is -forcing his bride to play at decent poverty. When -the provisions run out they visit the Bishop, or -the Major, or Uncle Barry, as may be most convenient, -and go off with an automobile-load of -hams and sausage-puddings and pickles and -preserves. How many jokes there are, and what -gales of merriment go round the table! The -Bishop’s son the first kleptomaniac in the family! -Barry’s young giant declaring that a single smile -from the bride cost his father a cow and calf! -The little girls, Peggy and Maria, chiming in -with their tale of how the predatory couple found -a lone chicken foraging in the rose-garden, confiscated -it, carried it off under Basil’s coat, tied -it by the leg under the piazza at the back of -their house in town—and then forgot it and let -it starve to death!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia sat watching this tableful of care-free, -rollicking people—the men handsome, finely built, -well-fed and well-groomed, the women delicate, -soft-skinned and exquisitely gowned—representing -the best type their civilization could produce. -A pleasant scene it was, with snowy damask cloth -and bouquets of roses, precious old silver and -quaint hand-painted china, with a background of -mahogany furniture and paneled walls. She -watched Frank in the midst of it, thinking of his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>home as Harriet had pictured it—the people -subdued and sombre, the stamp of poverty upon -everything. She was glad to see that he was -able to fit himself into the mood of this company, -enjoying the sallies of fun and pleasing those he -talked to.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The house being full of young couples who -wanted to be alone, Sylvia took Frank into the -library. She liked this room, with its red leather -furniture and cozy fireplace, and queer old book-cases -with diamond-shaped panes of glass. She -liked it because the lights were on the table, and -no woman looks beautiful when lighted from -over her head. This may seem a small matter -to you, but Sylvia had learned how much depends -upon detail. She remembered one of the maxims -of Lady Dee: “Get a man on your home-ground, -where you can have things as you want them; -and then place your chair to show the best side -of your face.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>These things I set down as Sylvia told them -to me—a long time afterwards, when we could -laugh over them. It was a fact about her all the -way through, that whatever she did, good or bad, -she knew why she was doing it. In this she -differed from a good many other women, who -are not honest, even with themselves, and who -feel that things become vulgar only when they -are mentioned. The study of her own person -and its charms was of course the very essence of -her rôle as a “belle.” At every stage of her -life she had been drilled and coached—how to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>dance, how to enter a drawing-room, how to -receive a compliment, how to toy with a suitor. -At Miss Abercrombie’s, the young ladies had -an etiquette teacher who gave them instructions -in the most minute details of their deportment; -not to bend your body too much, but mainly -your knees, when you sat down; not to let your -hands lie flat at your sides, but to turn your -little fingers gracefully out; never to hesitate -or think of yourself when entering a room, but -to fix your thoughts upon some person, and -move towards that person with decision. Sylvia -had needed this last instruction especially, for -in the beginning she had had a terrible time -entering rooms. It should be a comfort to some -would-be belles to know that Sylvia Castleman, -who attained in the end to such eminence in her -profession, was at the outset a terrified child with -shaking knees and chattering teeth, who never -would have gone anywhere of her own choice!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 20</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Now she was ready to try out all these instructions -upon Frank. The scene was set and lighted, -the curtain rose—but somehow there was a hitch -in the performance. Frank was moody again. -He sat staring before him, frowning somberly; -and she looked at him in a confusion of anxieties. -He did not love her after all—she had simply -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>seized upon him and compelled his attention, and -now he was longing to extricate himself! Even -if this were not true, it would soon come to that, -for she could think of nothing interesting to say, -and he would be bored.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She racked her wits. What could she talk -about to a man who knew none of her “set,” -who never went to balls or dinners, who could -not conceivably care about polite gossip? Why -didn’t <em>he</em> say something—the silent man! What -manners to take into company!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I must make him look at me,” she resolved. -So without saying a word, she began taking a -rose from her corsage and adjusting it in her hair. -The motion distracted him, and she saw that he -was watching. She had him!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is that in right?” she asked. Of course a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">la -France</span></i> rose in perfectly arranged hair is always -“in right,” and Sylvia knew it. Her little device -failed abjectly, for Frank answered simply “Yes,” -and began staring into space again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She tried once more, contenting herself with -the barest necessities of conversation. “Did you -shoot those quail yourself?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then he turned. “Miss Sylvia, I have something -I must say to you. I’ve had time to think -things over.” He paused.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Ah, now it was coming! He had had time to -think things over—and he called her “<em>Miss</em> -Sylvia!” Something cried out in her to make -haste and release him before he asked it. But -she could not speak—she was as if pinned by a -lance.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>He went on. “Miss Sylvia, I had made up -my mind that love was not for me. I knew that -to women of my own class I was a man with a -tainted name—a convict’s son; and I would -rather die than marry beneath me. So I shut up -my heart, and when I met a woman, I turned -and went away—as I tried to do with you. But -you would not have it, and I could not resist -you. I’ve been amazed at the intensity of my -own feelings; it’s something I could not have -dreamed of—and unless I’m mistaken, it’s been -the same with you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was a bold man who could use words such -as those to Sylvia. To what merciless teasing he -laid himself open! But she only drew a deep -sigh of relief. He still loved her!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I forced myself to stay away,” he continued, -without waiting for her to answer. “I said, ‘I -must not go near her again. I must run away -somewhere and get over it.’ And then again -I said, ‘I can make her happy—I will marry her.’ -I said that, but I’m not going to do it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He paused. Oh, what a voice he had! Sylvia -felt the blood ebbing and flowing in her cheeks, -pounding in her ears. She could not hear his -words very well—but he loved her!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia,” he was saying, earnestly—as if half -to convince himself—“we must both of us wait. -You must have time to consider what loving me -would mean. You have all these people—happy -people; and I have nothing like that in my life. -You have this beautiful home, expensive clothes—every -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>luxury. But I am a poor man. I have -only a mortgaged plantation, with a mother and -a brother and two sisters to share it. I have no -career—I have not even an education. All your -uncles, your cousins, your suitors, are college -men, and I am a plain farmer. So I face what -seems to me the worst temptation a man could -have. I see you, and you are everything in the -world that is desirable; and I believe that I could -win you and carry you away from here. My -whole being cries out, ‘Go and take her! She -loves you! She wants you to!’ But instead, I -have to come here and say, ‘Think it over. Make -sure of your feelings; that it’s not simply a flush -of excitement.’ You being the kind of tenderhearted -thing you are, it might so easily be a -romantic imagining about a man who’s apart -from other men—one you feel sorry for and would -like to help! You see what I mean? It isn’t -easy for me to say it, but I’d be a coward if I -didn’t say it—and mean it—and stand by it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a long pause. Sylvia was thinking. -How different it was from other men’s love-making! -There was Malcolm McCallum, who -had taken her driving yesterday, and had said -what they all said: “Never mind if you don’t -love me—marry me, and let me teach you to -love me.” In other words, “Stake your life’s -happiness upon a blind chance, at the command -of my desire.” Of course they would surround -her with all the external things of life, build her -a great house and furnish it richly, deck her with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>silks and jewels and supply her with servants. -All the world would come to admire her, and -then she would be so grateful to her generous -lord that she could not but love him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Her voice was low as she answered, “A woman -does not really care about the outside things. -She wants love most. She wants to be sure of -her heart—but of the man’s heart too.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“As to that,” he said, “I will not trust myself -to speak. You are the loveliest vision that has -ever come to me. You are——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know,” she interrupted. “But that, too, -is mostly surface. I am luxurious, I am artificial -and shallow—a kind of butterfly.” This was -what she said to men when she wished to be -most deadly. But now she really meant it; -there was a mist of tears in her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That is nothing,” he answered. “I am not -such a fool that I can’t see all that. There are -two people in you, as in all of us. The question -is, which do you want to be?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How can I say?” she murmured. “It would -be a question of whether you loved me——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah, Sylvia!” he cried, in a voice of pain that -startled her. And suddenly he rose and began to -pace the room. “I cannot talk about my feeling -for you,” he said. “I made up my mind before -I came here that I would not woo you—not if -I had to bite off my tongue to prevent it. I said, -‘I will explain to her, and then I will go away and -give her time.’ I want to play fair. I want to -<em>know</em> that I have played fair.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>As he stood there, she could see the knotted -tendons in his hands, she could see the agitation -of his whole being. And suddenly a great current -took her and bore her to him. She put her hands -upon his shoulders, whispering, “Frank!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He stood stiff and silent.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I love you!” she said. “I love you!” She -gave a little sob of happiness; and he caught her -in his arms and pressed her to his bosom, crushing -all her roses, and stifling her words with his -kisses. And so, a few minutes later, Sylvia was -lying back in her favorite chair, with the satisfaction -of knowing at last that he was looking -at her. A couple of hours later, when he went -away, it was as her plighted lover.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 21</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Frank came again two days later; and then -Mrs. Castleman made her first remark. “Sylvia,” -she said, “you mustn’t flirt with that man.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why not, Mother?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Because he’d probably take it seriously. And -he’s had a hard time, you know. We can’t treat -the Shirleys quite as we do other people.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“All right,” said Sylvia. “I’ll be careful.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Frank wanted the engagement made known at -once—at least to the family. Such was his direct -way. But Sylvia had an instinct against telling; -she wanted a little time to watch and study and -plan.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>It was hard, however; she was absolutely shining -with happiness—there seemed to be a kind -of soul-electricity that came from her and affected -everyone she met. It gathered the men about -her thicker than ever—and at the very time that -she wanted to be alone with Frank and the -thought of Frank!</p> - -<p class='c011'>One evening when the Young Matrons’ Club -gave its monthly cotillion, Frank, knowing nothing -about this event, called unexpectedly. A -visit meant to him forty miles on horseback; -and so, to the general consternation, Sylvia refused -to attend the dance. All evening the telephone -rang and the protests poured in. “We won’t -stand for it!” the men declared; and the women -asked, “Who is it?” She had been to a bridge-party -that afternoon, and everyone knew she was -not sick. But what man could it be, when all -the men were at the cotillion?</p> - -<p class='c011'>So the gossip began; and a week later another -incident gave it wings. It was a great occasion, -the semi-annual ball of the Country Club, and -Frank had been warned that Sylvia would not be -at home. But he wanted to see her in her glory, -and he galloped his twenty miles in darkness and -rain, and turned up at the club-house at midnight, -and stood in the doorway to watch. Sylvia, -seeing him and realizing what his presence meant, -was seized with a sudden impulse to acknowledge -him. She stopped dancing, and sent her partner -away, and stood talking to Frank. Oh, what a -staring, what a wagging of tongues! Frank -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>Shirley! Of all people in the world, Frank -Shirley!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Of course, the news came to the Hall. Early -in the morning, Aunt Nannie called up, announcing -a visit, and there followed a family conclave -with Mrs. Castleman, Aunt Varina and Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia,” said Mrs. Chilton, trying her best to -look casual, “I understand that Frank Shirley -was at the ball.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Aunt Nannie.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause. “What was he doing -there?” asked “Miss Margaret,” evidently having -been coached.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, I’m sure, Mother, I don’t know.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Did you invite him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Indeed, I did not.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He isn’t a member of the Club, is he?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No; but he knows lots of other people who -are.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Everybody is saying he came to see you,” -broke in Aunt Nannie. “They say you stopped -dancing to talk with him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can’t help what they say, Aunt Nannie.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you think,” inquired the Bishop’s wife, -“that it was altogether wise to get your name -associated with his?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Isn’t he a gentleman?” asked Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s all right, my dear, but you’ve got to -remember that you live in the world, and must -consider other people’s point of view.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you mean, Aunt Nannie, that Frank -Shirley’s to be excluded from society because of -his father’s misfortune?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>“Not excluded, Sylvia. There are shades to -such things. The point is that a young girl—a -girl conspicuous, like you——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Aunt Nannie, I asked mother and father, -and they were willing to receive him. Isn’t -that true, Mother?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, yes, Sylvia,” said “Miss Margaret,” -weakly, “but I didn’t mean——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was all right for him to come here, once -or twice,” interrupted Aunt Nannie. “But at a -Club ball——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The point is, Sylvia dear,” quavered Mrs. Tuis, -“you will get yourself a reputation for singularity.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And the mother added, “You surely don’t have -to do that to attract attention!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So there it was. All that fine sentiment about -the unhappy Shirleys went like a film of mist -before a single breath of the world’s opinion! -They would not say it brutally—“He’s a convict’s -son, and you can’t afford to know him -too well.” It was not the Southern fashion—at -least among the older generation—to be outspoken -in worldliness. They had generous ideals, -and made their boast of “chivalry;” but here, -when it came to a test, they were all in accord with -Aunt Nannie, who was said to “talk like a cold-blooded -Northern woman.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia decided at once that some one must -be told; so she went back to lunch with her aunt, -and afterwards sought out the Bishop in his -study. The walls of this room were lined with -ancient theological treatises and sermons in faded -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>greenish-black bindings: an array which never -failed to appal the soul of Sylvia, who realized -that she had consigned to the scrap-heap all this -mass of learning—and had not yet apologized for -her temerity.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Uncle Basil,” she began, “I have something -very, very important to tell you.” The Bishop -turned from his desk and gazed at her. “I am -engaged to be married,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, Sylvia!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And I—I’m very much in love.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who is the man, my dear?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is Frank Shirley.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was used to watching people and reading -their thoughts quickly. She saw that her -uncle’s first emotion was one of dismay. “Frank -Shirley!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Uncle Basil.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then she saw him gather himself together. -He was going to try to be fair—the dear soul! -But she could not forget that his first emotion -had been dismay. “Tell me about it, my child,” -he said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I met him at the Venable’s,” she replied, -“only a couple of weeks ago. He’s an unusual -sort of man, lonely and unhappy, very reserved -and hard to get at. He fell in love with me—very -much in love; but he didn’t want me to -know it. He did tell me at last.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The Bishop was silent. “I love him,” she -added.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Are you sure?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>“As I’ve never loved anybody—as I never -dreamed I could love.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause. “Uncle Basil—he’s a good -man,” she said. “That is why I love him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Again there was a pause. “Have you told -your father and mother?” asked the Bishop.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not yet.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You must tell them at once, Sylvia.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know they will make objections, and I want -you to meet Frank and talk with him. You see, -Uncle Basil, I’m going to marry him—and I -want your help.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The Bishop was silent again, weighing his -next words. “Of course, my dear,” he said, -“from a worldly point of view it is not a good -match, and I fear your parents will regard it as -a calamity. But, as you know, I think of nothing -but the happiness of my darling Sylvia. I won’t -say anything at all until I have met the man. -Send him to see me, little girl, and then I will -give you the best counsel I can.”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 22</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Frank went to pay his call the next day, and -then came back to Sylvia. “He’s a dear old -man,” he said. “And he wants what is best -for you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What does he want?” demanded Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He says we should not marry now—that I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>ought to be better able to take care of you. -And of course he’s right.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause; then suddenly Frank -exclaimed, “Sylvia, I can’t be just a farmer if -I’m going to marry you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What can you be, Frank?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m going to go to college.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But that would take four years!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, it needn’t. I could dig in and get into -the Sophomore class this winter. I’ve been -through a military academy, and I was going to -Harvard, where my father and my grandfather -went, but I thought it was my duty to come -home and see to the place. But now my brother -has grown up, and he has a good head for business.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What would you do ultimately?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ve always wanted to study law, and I think -now I ought to. Nobody is going to be willing -for us to marry at once; and they’re much less -apt to object to me if I’m seriously going to make -something of myself.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia went over the next morning to get her -uncle’s blessing. The good Bishop gave it to -her—together with some exhortations which he -judged she needed. They were summed up in -one sentence which he pronounced: “There is -nothing more unhappy in this world than a -serious-minded man with a worldly-minded wife.” -Poor old Uncle Basil, with his snow-white hair -and his patient, saintly face, worn with care—how -much of his own soul he put into that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>utterance! Sylvia laid her head upon his shoulder, -and let the tears run down upon his coat.</p> - -<p class='c011'>After a while, he remarked, “Sylvia, your aunt -saw Frank come here.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What!” exclaimed Sylvia. “You don’t mean -that she’ll guess!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She’s very clever at guessing, my child.” -So Sylvia, as she rode home, realized that she -had no more time to lose. When she got to the -Hall, she set to work at once to carry out her -plans.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She found her Aunt Varina in her room with -a headache. On her dressing-table was a picture -of the late-lamented Mr. Tuis, which Sylvia picked -up. By manifesting a little interest in it, she -quickly got her aunt to talking on the subject -of matrimony.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Tuis was the youngest of the Major’s -sisters. In the face of the protests of her relatives -she had married a comparatively “common” -man, who was poor and had turned out -to be a drunkard, and after leading Aunt Varina -a dog’s life, had taken chloral. So Mrs. Tuis had -come back to eat the bread of charity—which, -though it was liberally sweetened with affection, -had also a slightly bitter taste of compassion.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Her ill-fated romance was a poor thing, perhaps—but -her own. As she told it her bosom -fluttered and the tears trickled down her cheeks; -and when she had got to a state of complete -deliquescence, her niece whispered: “Oh, Aunt -Varina, I’m so glad you believe in love! Aunt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>Varina, will you keep a solemn secret if I tell -it to you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so came the story of the amazing engagement. -Mrs. Tuis listened with wide-open, startled -eyes, every now and then whispering, “Sylvia! -Sylvia!” Of course she was thrilled to the deeps -of her soul by it; and of course, in the mood -that she had been caught, she could not possibly -refuse her sympathy. “You must help me with -the others,” said the girl. “I’m going to tell -mother next.”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 23</h3> - -<p class='c010'>The first thing that struck you about “Miss -Margaret” was her appalling incompetence. But -underneath it lay the most exclusively maternal -soul imaginable. She had nursed her children -when they were almost two years old, great -healthy calves running about the place and -standing up to suck; she had rocked them to -sleep in her arms when they were big enough -to be reading Virgil; she had shed as many tears -over a broken finger as most mothers shed over -a funeral. She wanted her daughters to be -happy, and to this end she would give them -anything that civilization provided; she would -even be willing that one of them should marry -a man whose father “wore stripes”—so far as -she was concerned, and so long as she remained -alone with the daughter. You must picture her, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>clasping Sylvia in her arms and weeping from -general agitation; moved to pity by the tale of -Frank’s loneliness, moved to awe by the tale of -his goodness—but then suddenly smitten as by -a thunderbolt with the thought: “What will -people say! What will your Aunt Nannie say!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>While Sylvia was bent upon having her way, -you must not imagine that she did not feel any -of these emotions. Although she was mostly -Lady Lysle, her far-off ancestress, she was also -a little of “Miss Margaret,” and was almost -capsized in these gales of emotion. She remembered -a hundred scenes of tenderness and devotion; -she clasped the great girl-mother in her -arms, and mingled their tears and vowed that -she would never do anything to make her unhappy. -It was a lachrymal lane—this pathway -of Sylvia’s engagement!</p> - -<p class='c011'>With her father she took a different line. She -got the Major alone in his office and talked to -him solemnly, not about love and romance, but -about Frank Shirley’s character. She knew that -the Major was disturbed by the wildness of the -young men of the world about him; she had -heard him discuss the pace at which Aunt Nannie’s -boys were traveling. And here was a man -who had sowed no wild oats, and had learned the -lesson of self-control.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was surprised at the way the Major took -it. He clutched the arms of his chair and went -white when he caught the import of her discourse; -but he heard her to the end, and then -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>sat for a long while in silence. Finally, he inquired, -“Sylvia, did anybody ever tell you why -your Uncle Laurence killed himself?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” she replied.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He was engaged to a girl, and her parents -made her break off the match. I never knew -why; but it ruined the girl’s life, as well as his, -and it made a terrible impression on me. So I -made a vow—and now, I suppose, is the time I -have to keep it. I said I would never interfere -in a love-affair of one of my children!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was deeply affected, not only by his -words, but by the intense agitation which she -saw he was repressing. “Papa, does it seem so -very dreadful to you?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Again there was a long wait before he answered. -“It is something quite different from -what I had expected,” he said. “It will make -a difference in your whole life—to an extent -which I fear you cannot realize.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But if I really love him, Papa?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If you really love him, my dear, then I will -not try to oppose you. But oh, Sylvia, be sure -that you love him! You must promise me to -wait until I can be sure you are not mistaken -about that.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I expect to wait, Papa,” she said. “There -will be no mistake.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They talked for half an hour or so, and then -Sylvia went to her room. Half an hour later -“Aunt Sarah,” the cook, came flying to her in -great agitation. “Miss Sylvia, what’s de matter -wid yo’ papa?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>“What?” cried Sylvia, springing up.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He’s sittin’ on a log out beyan’ de garden, -cryin’ fo’ to break his heart!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia fled to the spot, and fell upon her -knees by him and flung her arms about him, -crying, “Papa, Papa!” He was still sobbing; -she had never seen him exhibit such emotion in -her life before, and she was terrified. “Papa, -what is it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She felt him shudder and control himself. -“Nothing, Sylvia. I can’t tell you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Papa,” she whispered, “do you object to -Frank Shirley as much as that?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, my dear—it isn’t that. It’s that the -whole thing has knocked me off my feet. My -little girl is going away from me—and I didn’t -know she was grown up yet. It made me feel -so old!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He looked at her, trying to smile and feeling -a little ashamed of his tears. She looked into -the dear face, and it seemed withered and -wrinkled all of a sudden. She realized with a -pang how much he really had aged. He was -working so hard—she would see him at his accounts -late at night, when she was leaving for a -ball, and would feel ashamed for her joys that he -had to pay for. “Oh, Papa, Papa!” she cried, -“I ought to marry a rich man!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My child,” he exclaimed, “don’t let me hear -you say a thing like that!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Poor, poor Major! He said it and he meant -it; he was, I think, the most <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">naïve</span></i> of all the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>members of his family. He was a “Southern -gentleman,” not a business man; he hated money -with his whole soul—hated it, even while he spent -it and enjoyed what it brought him. He was -like a chip of wood caught in a powerful current; -swept through rapids and over cataracts, to his -own boundless bewilderment and dismay.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 24</h3> - -<p class='c010'>“He is without any pride of family.” That -had been the verdict upon the Major pronounced -by his mother, who had been a grand lady in her -own day. She would turn to her eldest daughter -and say, “Look after him, Nannie! Make him -keep his shoes shined!” And so now, towards -the end of their conference, Sylvia and her father -found themselves looking at each other and saying, -“What will Aunt Nannie say?” Sylvia -was laughing, but all the same she had not the -nerve to face her aunt, and ’phoned the Bishop -to ask him to break the news.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Half an hour later the energetic lady’s automobile -was heard at the door. And now behold, -a grand council, with the Major and his wife, -Mrs. Chilton, Mrs. Tuis, Mr. Mandeville Castleman, -Sylvia and Celeste—the last having learned -that something startling had happened, and being -determined to find out about it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Now,” began Aunt Nannie, “what is this -that Basil has been trying to tell me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>There was no reply.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mandeville,” she demanded, “have you heard -this news?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” said Uncle Mandeville.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That Sylvia has engaged herself to Frank -Shirley!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Good God!” said Uncle Mandeville.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia!” exclaimed Celeste, in horror.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is it true?” demanded Aunt Nannie—in a -tone which said that she declined to comment -until official confirmation had been received.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is true,” said Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And what have you to say about it?” inquired -Aunt Nannie. She looked first at the Major, -then at his wife, and then at Mrs. Tuis; but no -one had anything to say.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can’t quite believe that you’re in your -right senses,” continued the speaker. “Or that -I have heard you say the words. What <em>can</em> -have got into you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nannie,” said the Major, clearing his throat, -“Sylvia doesn’t want to marry him for a long -time.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But she proposes to be engaged to him, I -understand!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” admitted the other.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And this engagement is to be announced?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why—er—I suppose——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Certainly,” put in Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And when, may I ask?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“At once.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And is there nobody here who has thought -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>of the consequences? Possibly you have overlooked -the fact that one of my daughters has -planned to marry Ridgely Peyton next month. -That is to be called off?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What do you mean, Aunt Nannie?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Can you be childish enough to imagine that -the Peytons will consent to marry into a family -with a convict’s son in it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nannie!” protested the Major.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know!” replied Mrs. Chilton. “Sylvia -doesn’t like the words. But if she proposes to -marry a convict’s son, she may as well get used -to them now as later. It’s the thing that people -will be saying about her for the balance of her -days; the thing they’ll be saying about all of us -everywhere. Look at Celeste there—just ready -to come out! How much chance she’ll have—with -such a start! Her sister engaged to Frank -Shirley!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia turned to Celeste, and the eyes of these -two met. Celeste turned pale, and her look was -eloquent of dismay.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nannie,” put in the Major, protestingly, -“Frank Shirley is a fine, straight fellow——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ve nothing to say against Frank Shirley,” -exclaimed the other. “I know nothing about -him, and never expect to know anything about -him. But I know the story of his family, and -I know that he’s no right in ours. And what’s -more, he knows it too—if he were a man with -any conscience or self-respect, he’d not consent to -ruin Sylvia’s life!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>“Aunt Nannie,” broke in the girl, “is one to -think of nothing in marriage but worldly pride?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Worldly pride!” ejaculated the other. “You -call it worldly pride—because you, who have -been the favorite child of the Castlemans, who -have been given every luxury, every privilege, -are asked not to trample your sisters and cousins! -To give way to a blind passion, and put a stain -upon our name that will last for generations! -Where do you suppose you’d have been to-day -if your forefathers had acted in such fashion? -Do you imagine that you’d have been the belle -of Castleman Hall, the most sought-after girl in -the state?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>That was the argument. For some minutes -Mrs. Chilton went on to pour it forth. And -angry as she was, Sylvia could not but feel the -force of it, and realize the effect it was producing -on the other members of the council. It was not -the voice of a woman speaking; it was the voice -of something greater than any of them, or than -all of them together—a thing that had come -from dim-distant ages, and would continue into -an impenetrable future. It was the voice of the -Family! No light thing it was, in truth, to be -the favorite daughter of the Castlemans! Not -a responsibility one could evade, an honor one -could decline!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are where you are to-day,” proclaimed -the speaker, “because other women thought of -you when they chose their husbands. And I -have never observed in you any unwillingness -to accept the advantages they have handed on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>to you, any contempt for admiration and success. -You are only a girl, of course; you can’t -be expected to realize all the meaning of your -marriage to your family; but your mother and -father know, and they ought to have impressed -it on you, instead of leaving you to run wild and -be trapped by the first unprincipled man that -came along!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause. The Major and his wife -sat in silence, with a guilty look upon their faces. -“Worldly pride!” exclaimed Aunt Nannie, turning -upon them. “Have you told her about your -own marriage?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What do you mean?” asked the Major.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You know very well,” was the reply, “that -Margaret, when she married you, was head over -heels in love with a nice, respectable, poor young -preacher. And that she married you, not because -she was in love with you, but because she knew -that you were a noble-minded gentleman, the -head of the oldest and best family in the county.” -And then Aunt Nannie turned upon Sylvia. -“Suppose,” she demanded, “that your mother -had been sentimental and silly, and had run -away with the preacher—have you any idea where -you’d be now?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was hardly to be blamed for having no -answer to this question, which might have been -too much for the most learned scientist. There -was silence in the council.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Or take Mandeville,” pursued the Voice of -the Family.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>“Nannie!” protested Mandeville.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You don’t want it talked about, I know,” -said the other, “but this is a time for truth-telling. -Your Uncle Mandeville was madly in -love with a girl—a girl who had position, and -money too; but he would not marry her because -she had a sister who was ‘fast,’ and he would not -bring such blood into the family.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause. Uncle Mandeville’s head -was bowed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And do you remember,” persisted Aunt -Nannie, “that when the question was being discussed, -your brother here asked that his growing -daughters be spared having to hear about a -scandal? Do you remember that?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” said Mandeville, “I remember that.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And how much nobler was such conduct -than that of your Uncle Tom. Think——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>One could feel a sudden thrill go through the -assembly. “Oh!” cried Miss Margaret, protestingly; -and Mrs. Tuis exclaimed, “Nannie!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Think of what happened to Tom’s wife!” -the other was proceeding; but here she was -stopped by a firm word from the Major. “We -will not discuss that, sister!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a solemn pause, during which Sylvia -and Celeste stared at each other. They knew -that Uncle Tom Harley, their mother’s brother, -was an army officer stationed in the far West; -but they had never heard before that he had -a wife, and were amazed and a little frightened -by the revelation. It is in moments such as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>these, when the tempers of men and women -strike sparks, that one gets glimpses of the skeletons -that are hidden far back in the corners of -family closets!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 25</h3> - -<p class='c010'>There was a phrase which Sylvia had heard -a thousand times in the discussions of her relatives; -it was “bad blood.” “Bad blood” was -a thing which possessed and terrified the Castleman -imagination. Sylvia had but the vaguest -ideas of heredity. She had heard it stated that -tuberculosis and insanity were transmissible, and -that one must never marry into a family where -these disorders appeared; but apparently, also, -the family considered that poverty and obscurity -were transmissible—besides the general tendency -to do things of which your neighbors disapproved. -And you were warned that these evils often skipped -a generation and reappeared. You might pick -out a most excellent young man for a husband, -and then see your children return to the criminal -ways of his ancestors.</p> - -<p class='c011'>That was Aunt Nannie’s argument now. When -Sylvia cried, “What has Frank Shirley done?” -the reply was, “It’s not what he did, but what -his father did.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But,” cried the girl, “his father was innocent! -I’ve heard Papa say it a hundred times!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then his uncle was guilty,” was Aunt Nannie’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>response. “Somebody took the money and -gambled it away.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But is gambling such a terrible offence? It -seems to me I’ve heard of some Castlemans -gambling.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If they do,” was the reply, “they gamble -with their own money.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>At which Sylvia cried, “Nothing of the kind! -They have gambled, and then come to Uncle -Mandeville to get him to pay their debts!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Now that was a body-blow; for it was Aunt -Nannie’s own boys who had adopted this custom, -which Sylvia had heard sternly reprehended in -the family councils. Aunt Nannie flushed, and -Uncle Mandeville made haste to interpose—“Sylvia, -you should not speak so to your aunt.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t see why not,” declared the girl. “I -am saying nothing but what is true; and I have -been attacked in the thing that is most precious -in life to me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Here the Major felt it his duty to enter the -debate. “Sylvia,” he said, “I don’t think you -quite realize your aunt’s feelings. It is no selfish -motive that leads her to make these objections.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not selfish?” asked the girl. “She’s admitted -it’s her fear for her own daughters, Papa——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s just exactly as much for your own sister, -Sylvia.” It was the voice of Celeste, entering -the discussion for the first time. Sylvia stared -at her, astonished, and saw her eyes alight, her -face as set and hard as Aunt Nannie’s. Sylvia -realized all at once that she had an enemy in her -own house.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>She was trembling violently as she made reply. -“Then, Celeste, I have to give up everything -that means happiness in life to me, because I -might frighten away rich suitors from my sister?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia,” put in the Major, gravely, before -Celeste could speak, “you must not say things -like that. It is not because Frank Shirley is poor -that we are objecting. The pride of the Castlemans -is not simply a pride of worldly power.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She degrades us and degrades herself when -she implies it!” exclaimed Aunt Nannie.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is a high and great pride,” continued the -Major. “The pride of a race of men and women -who have scorned ignoble conduct and held themselves -above all dishonor. That is no weak or -shallow thing, Sylvia. It is a thing which sustains -and upholds us at every moment of our -lives: that we are living, not merely for our -individual selves, but for all the generations that -are to be. It may seem a cruel thing that the -sins of the fathers should be visited upon the -children, but it is a law of God. It was something -that Bob Shirley himself said to me, with -tears in his eyes—that his children and his children’s -children would have to pay for what had -been done.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Papa!” cried Sylvia. “They don’t have -to pay it, except that we make them pay it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are mistaken, my child,” said the Major, -quietly. “It’s not we alone. It was the whole -of society that condemned him. We cannot -possibly wipe out the blot on the Shirley -escutcheon.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>“We can only drag ourselves down with them!” -exclaimed Aunt Nannie.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, it’s just as if we said that going to -prison was nothing!” cried Celeste.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You must remember how many people there -are looking up to us, Sylvia,” put in Uncle Mandeville, -solemnly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There they were, all in chorus; Sylvia gazed -in anguish from one to another. She gazed at -her mother, just at the moment that that good -lady was preparing to express her opinion. For -the particular thing which held the imagination -of “Miss Margaret” in thrall was this vision of -the Castlemans living their life as it were upon -a stage, with the lower orders in the pit looking -on, imbibing instruction and inspiration from -the action of the lofty drama.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia had heard it all before, and she could -not bear to listen to it now. The tears, which -had long been in her eyes, suddenly began to roll -down her cheeks; she sprang up, exclaiming passionately, -“You are all against me! Everyone of -you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia,” said her father, in distress, “that is -not true!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We would wade through blood for you!” -exclaimed Uncle Mandeville—who was always -looking for a chance to shoot somebody for the -honor of the Castleman name.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We are thinking of nothing but your own -future,” said the Major. “You are only a child, -Sylvia——”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>But Sylvia cried, “I can’t bear any more! -You promised to stand by me, Papa—and now -you let Aunt Nannie come here and persuade -you—Mamma too—all of you! You will break -my heart!” And so saying she fled from the -room, leaving the family council to proceed as -best it could without her.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 26</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia shut herself in her room and had a -good, exhaustive cry. Then, with her soul atmosphere -cleared, she set to work to think out her -problem.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had to admit that the family had presented -a strong case. There was the matter of heredity, -for example. Just how much likelihood might -there be, in the event of her marrying Frank, of -her finding herself with children of evil tendencies? -Just what truth might there be in Aunt Nannie’s -point of view, that he was a selfish man, seeking -to redeem his family fortunes by allying himself -with the Castlemans? The question sounded -cold-blooded, but then Sylvia always had to face -the truth.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Also there was the problem, to what extent -a girl ought to sacrifice herself to her family. -There was no denying that they had done much -for her. She had been as their right eye to them; -and what did she owe them in return? There -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>was no one of them whom she did not love, sincerely, -intensely; there was no one over whose -sorrows she had not wept, whose burdens she -had not borne. And now she faced the fact that -if she married Frank Shirley, she would cause -them unhappiness. She might argue that they -had no right to be unhappy; but that did not -alter the fact—they would be unhappy. Sylvia’s -life so far had been a process of bringing other -people joy; and now, suddenly, she found herself -in a dilemma where it was necessary for her to -cause pain. Upon whom ought it to fall—upon -her mother and father, her uncles and aunts—or -upon Frank Shirley and herself?</p> - -<p class='c011'>Of all the arguments which produced an effect -upon her, the most powerful was that embodied -in Aunt Nannie’s phrase, “a blind passion.” -Sylvia had been taught to think of “passion” -as something low and shameful; she did not like -the vision of herself as a weak, infatuated creature, -throwing away all that other people had -striven to give her. Many were the phrases -whereby all her life she had heard such conduct -scorned; there was a phrase from the Bible that -was often cited—something about “inordinate -affection.” Just what was the difference between -ordinate and inordinate affection? And how was -she to decide in which category to place her love -for Frank Shirley?</p> - -<p class='c011'>For the greater part of two days and two -nights Sylvia debated these problems; and then -she went to her father. The color was gone from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>her cheeks, and she was visibly thinner; but her -mind was made up.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She told the Major all the doubts that had -beset her and all the arguments she had considered. -She set forth his contention that the -pride of the Castlemans was not a “worldly -pride;” and then she announced her conclusion, -which was that he was permitting himself to be -carried along, against his own better judgment, -by the vanity of the women of his family.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Needless to say, the Major was startled by this -pronouncement, delivered with all the solemnity -of a pontiff <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ex cathedra</span></i>. But Sylvia was ready -with her proofs. There was Aunt Nannie, scheming -and plotting day and night to make great -marriages for her children. Spending her husband’s -money in ways he disapproved, and getting—what? -Was there a single one of her -children that was happy? Was there a single -couple—for all the rich marriages—that wasn’t -living beyond its income, and jealous of other -people who were able to spend more? Harley, -grumbling because he couldn’t have a motor of -his own—Clive, because he couldn’t afford to -marry the girl he loved! And both of them -drinking and gambling, and forcing Uncle Mandeville -to pay their debts.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia, you know I have protested to your -Aunt Nannie.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Papa—but meantime you’re ruining your -own health and fortune to enable your daughters -to run the same race. Here’s Celeste, like a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>hound in the leash, eager to have her chance—just -Aunt Nannie all over again! I know, Papa—it’s -terrible, and I can’t bear to hurt you with -it, but I have to tell you what my own decision -is. I love Frank Shirley; I think my love for -him is a true love, and I can’t for a moment -think of giving it up. I’m sorry to have to -break faith with the Family; I can only plead -that I didn’t understand the bargain when I -made it, and that I shall take care not to make -my debt any greater.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What do you mean, Sylvia?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I mean that I want to give up the social -game. I want to stop spending fortunes on -clothes and travel and luxuries; I want to stop -being paraded round and exhibited to men I’m -not interested in. I want you to give me a little -money—just what I need to live—and let me go -to New York to study music for a year or two -more, until I am able to teach and earn my own -living.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Earn your own living! <em>Sylvia!</em>”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Precisely, Papa. And meantime, Frank can -go through college and law school, and when we -can take care of ourselves, we’ll marry. That’s -my plan, and I’m serious about it—I want you -to let me do it this year.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And there sat the poor Major, staring at her, -his face a study of unutterable emotions, whispering -to himself, “My God! My God!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When Sylvia told me about this scene I reminded -her of her experience with the young -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>clergyman who had come to convert her from -heresy. “Don’t you see now,” I asked, “why he -called you the most dangerous woman in Castleman -County?”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 27</h3> - -<p class='c010'>This procedure of Sylvia’s was a beautiful -illustration of what the military strategists call -an “offensive defence.” By the simple suggestion -of earning her own living, she got everything -else in the world that she wanted. It was agreed -that she might make known her engagement to -Frank Shirley. It was agreed that she need have -no more money spent upon clothes and parties. -Most important of all, it was agreed that Aunt -Nannie was to be informed that Sylvia’s course -was approved by her parents, and that Frank -Shirley was to be welcomed to Castleman Hall.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But of course she was not to be allowed to earn -money. Her father made it clear that the bare -suggestion of this caused him more unhappiness -than she could endure to inflict. When she protested, -“I want to learn something useful!” the -dear old Major was ready with the proposition -that they learn something useful together; and -forthwith unlocked the diamond-paned doors of -the old mahogany book-cases, and dragged forth -dust-covered sets of Grote’s “History of Greece,” -and Hume’s “History of England,” and Jefferson -Davis’ “Rise and Fall of the Confederate -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>Government”—out of which ponderous volumes -Sylvia read aloud to him for several hours each -day thereafter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So from now on this is to be the story of a -wholly reformed and chastened huntress of hearts. -No more for her the tournaments of coquetry, -no more the trumpets of the ball-room peal. No -longer shall we behold her, clad in armor of -chiffon and real lace, with breastplate of American -beauty roses and helmet of gold and pearls. No -longer shall we see the arrows of her red-brown -eyes flying over the stricken field, deep-dyed with -the heart’s blood of Masculinity. Instead of -this the dusty tome and the midnight oil and the -green eye-shade confront us; we behold the uncanny -spectacle of the loveliest of created mortals -clad in blue stockings and black-rimmed spectacles.—All -this scintillating wit, I make haste -to explain, is not mine, but something which -Avery Crittenden, the town wag, dashed off in -a moment of illumination, and which appeared -in the Castleman County <cite>Register</cite> (no names, -if you please!) a couple of weeks after the news -of Sylvia’s reformation had stunned the world.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I wish that space were less limited, so that I -could tell you how Castleman County received -the tidings, and some few of the comical episodes -in the long war which it waged to break down -her resolution of withdrawal. It was the light -of their eyes going out, and they could not and -would not be reconciled to it. They wrote letters, -they sent telegrams; they would come and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>literally besiege the house—sit in the parlor and -condole with “Miss Margaret,” no longer because -Sylvia refused to marry them, but merely because -she refused to lead the german with them! They -would come with bands of music, with negro -singers to serenade her. One spring night a whole -fancy-dress ball adjourned by unanimous consent, -and stormed the terraces of Castleman Hall and -held its revels under the windows; and so of -course Sylvia had to stop trying to read about -Walpole’s ministry and invite them in and give -them wine and cake. On the evening of one of -the club dances there was an organized conspiracy; -seventeen of her old sweethearts sent -her roses, and when in spite of this she did not -come, the next day came seventeen messengers, -bearing seventeen packages, each containing a -little cupid wrapped in cotton-wool—but with his -wings broken!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Such was the pressure from outside; and -within—there would be a new gown sent by -Uncle Mandeville, who was on another spree in -New Orleans; a gown that was really a dream -of beauty and a crime not to wear. Or there -would be talk at the table about Dolly Witherspoon, -Sylvia’s chief rival, and the triumph she -had won at the cotillion last night; how Stanley -Pendleton was “rushing” her, and how Cousin -Harley had been snubbed by her. And then -some one gave a ball, and Charlie Peyton rang -up to say that he was getting drunk and going -to the devil unless Sylvia would come and dance -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>with him! And when this device succeeded, and -the rumor of it spread—how many of the nicest -boys in the county took to getting drunk and -going to the devil, because Sylvia would not -come and dance with them!</p> - -<p class='c011'>I mention these things in order that you may -understand that, sincere as Sylvia was in her -effort to withdraw from “society,” she was not -entirely successful. She still met “eligible” men, -and she was still an object of family concern. -A few days after the council, she had been surprised -by a visit from Aunt Nannie, who came -to apologize and make peace. “I want you to -know, Sylvia dear,” she declared, “that what I -said to you was said with no thought of anything -but your own good.” There was a reconciliation, -with tears in the eyes of both of them—and -a renewal of the activities of Aunt Nannie. How -often it happened to Sylvia, when at some dance -she fell into the clutches of an undesirable man, -that Aunt Nannie found a pretext for joining -them—and presently, without quite realizing -how, Sylvia found that the man was gone, and -that she was settled for a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tête-à-tête</span></i> with a more -suitable companion! Once she stopped to luncheon -with the Bishop, and found herself being -shown a new album of photographs. There -among English cathedrals and Rhenish castles -she stumbled upon a picture of the “Mansion -House,” the home of the wealthy Peytons. -“What a lovely old place!” she exclaimed; and -her aunt remarked, “Charlie will inherit that, -lucky boy!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>She remembered also the case of Ned Scott, -the young West Pointer who came home on -furlough, setting all the girls’ hearts aflutter with -his gray and gold gorgeousness. “My, what a -handsome fellow!” exclaimed Aunt Nannie. “It -makes me happy just to watch him walk!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“An army man always has a good social position,” -remarked “Miss Margaret,” casually.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And an assured income,” added Aunt Varina, -timidly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He has a mole on his nose,” observed Sylvia.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 28</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Frank Shirley had passed the midwinter examinations -at Harvard, and was settled in the dormitory -of his fathers; and so for a while the acute -agitation subsided. It began again in the summer, -however—when Sylvia proposed staying at -the Hall, instead of going with the family to the -summer-place in the mountains of North Carolina. -It was obvious that this was in order to be near -her lover; and so the whole battle had to be -fought over again. Aunt Nannie was unable to -understand how Sylvia could be willing to “publish -her infatuation to the world.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But I have only the summer when I can see -him,” the girl argued.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But even so, my dear—to give up everything -else, to change all your plans, the plans of your -whole family!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>“Nobody need change, Aunt Nannie. Aunt -Varina will stay with me gladly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Others have to stay, if it’s only to hide what -you are doing. It’s not decent, Sylvia! Believe -me, you will lose the man’s own respect if you -behave so. No man can permanently respect -a woman who betrays her feelings so openly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My dear Aunt Nannie,” said Sylvia, quietly, -“I am quite sure that I know Frank Shirley -better than you do.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Poor, deluded child,” was Mrs. Chilton’s -comment. “You’ll find to your sorrow some -day that men are all alike!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But the girl was obdurate. The family had to -proceed to desperate measures. First her mother -declared that she would stay also—she must -remain to protect her unfortunate child. And -then, of course, the Major decided that it was -his duty to remain. There came the question of -Celeste, who had planned a house party, and foresaw -the spoiling of her fun by the selfishness of -her sister. There was also the baby—the precious, -ineffable baby, the heir of all the might, majesty -and dominion of the Lysles. The family physician -intervened—the child must positively have the -mountain air. Also the Major’s liver trouble was -serious, he was sleeping badly and working too -hard, and was in desperate need of a change. -Prompted by Aunt Nannie, the doctor said this -in Sylvia’s hearing—and settled the matter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It had been Frank’s idea to remain at Cambridge -and study during the summer, so as to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>make up some “conditions;” but when he learned -that Sylvia intended to remain at the Hall, he -decided to stand the expense of coming home. -He arrived there to find that she had suddenly -changed her mind and was going—and offering -but slight explanation of her change. Sylvia -was intensely humiliated because of the attitude -of her family, and was trying to spare Frank the -pain of knowing about it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So came the beginning of unhappiness between -them. Frank was acutely conscious of his inferiority -to her in all worldly ways. And he knew -that her relatives were trying to break down her -resolution. He could not believe that they would -succeed; and yet, there was a bitter and disillusioned -man within him who could not believe that -they would fail. In his soul there were always -thorns of doubt, which festered, and now and -then would cause him pangs of agony. But he -was as proud as any savage, and would have -died before he would ask for mercy. When he -learned that she was going away from him, for -no better reason than her relatives’ objections, -he felt that she did not care enough for him. -And then, when he did not protest, it was Sylvia’s -turn to worry. So it really did not matter to -him whether she stayed or not! It might be -that Aunt Nannie was right after all, that a man -ceased to love a woman who gave herself too -freely.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 29</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The matter was complicated by the episode -of Beauregard Dabney, about which I have to -tell.</p> - -<p class='c011'>You have heard, perhaps, of the Dabneys of -Charleston; the names of three of them—Beauregard’s -grandfather and two great-uncles—may -be read upon the memorial tablets in the stately -old church which is the city’s pride. In Charleston -they have a real aristocracy—gentlemen so poor -that they wear their cuffs all ragged, yet are -received with homage in the proudest homes in -the South. The Dabneys had a city mansion -with front steps crumbling away, and a country -house which would not keep out the rain; and -yet when Beauregard, the young scion of the -house, fell prey to the charm and animation of -Harriet Atkinson, whose father’s street railroad -was equal to a mint, the family regarded it as -the greatest calamity since Appomattox.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He had followed Harriet to Castleman County; -and when the news got out, a detachment of -uncles and aunts came flying, and captured the -poor boy, and were on the point of shipping him -home, when Harriet called Sylvia to the rescue. -Sylvia could impress even the Dabneys; and if -only she would have Beauregard and one of the -aunts invited to Castleman Hall, it might yet be -possible to save the situation.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia had met young Dabney once, when -visiting in Charleston. She remembered him as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>an effeminate-mannered youth, with what would -have been a doll-baby face but for the fact that -the nose caved in in the middle in a disturbing -way. “Tell me, Harriet,” she asked, when she -met her friend—“are you in love with him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know,” said Harriet. “I’m afraid -I’m not—at least, not very much.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But why do you want to marry a man you -don’t love?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Harriet was driving, and she grasped the reins -tightly and gave the horse a flick with the whip. -“Sunny,” she said, “you might as well face the -fact—I could never fall in love as you have. -I don’t believe in it. I wouldn’t want to. I’d -never let myself trust a man that much.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But then, why marry?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have to marry. What can I do? I’m tired -of being chaperoned, and I don’t want to be an -old maid.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia pondered for a moment. “Suppose,” -she said, “that you should marry him, and then -meet a man you loved?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ve already answered that—it won’t happen. -I’m too selfish.” She paused, and then added, -“It’s all right, Sunny. I’ve figured over it, and -I’m not making any mistake. He’s a good fellow, -and I like him. He’s a gentleman—he does not -offend me. Also, he’s very much in love with -me, which is the best way; I’ll always be the -boss in my own home. He’s respected, and I’ll -help out my poor struggling family if I marry -him. You know how it is, Sunny—I vowed I’d -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>never be a climber, but it’s hard to pull back -when your people are eager for the heights. And -then, too, it’s always a temptation to want to go -where you’re told you can’t go.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I know that,” said Sylvia. “But that’s -a joke, and marrying’s a serious matter.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s only that because we make it so,” retorted -the other. “I find myself bored to death, and -here’s something that rouses my fighting blood. -They say I sha’n’t have him—and so I want him. -I’m going to break into that family, and then -I’m going to shake the rats out of the hair of some -of those old maid aunts of his!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She laughed savagely and drove on for a while. -“Sunny,” she resumed at last, “you’re all right. -You know it, but I tell you so anyway. You -never were a snob that I know—but I’m cynical -enough to say that it’s only because you are too -proud. Can you imagine how you’d feel if anybody -tried to patronize you? Can you imagine -how you’d feel if everybody did it? I’m tired -of it—don’t you see? And Beauregard is my way -of escape. I’m going to marry him if I possibly -can; my mind is made up to it. I’ve got the -whole plan of campaign laid out—your part -included.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What’s my part, Harriet?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s very simple. I want you to let Beauregard -fall in love with you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“With <em>me</em>!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes. I want you to give him the worst -punishment you ever gave a man in your life.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>“But what’s that for?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He’s in love with me—he wants me—and he’s -too much of a coward to marry me. And I want -to see him suffer for it—as only you can make -him. I want you to take him and maul him, -I want you to bray him and pound him in your -mortar, I want you to roll him and toss him -about, to walk on him and stamp on him, to beat -him to a jelly and grind him to a powder! I want -you to keep it up till he’s thoroughly reduced—and -then you can turn him over to me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And then you will heal him?” inquired Sylvia—who -had not been alarmed by this bloodthirsty -discourse.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps I will and perhaps I won’t,” said the -other. “What is there in the maxims of Lady -Dee about a broken heart?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The best way to catch a man,” quoted Sylvia, -“is on the rebound!”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 30</h3> - -<p class='c010'>I don’t know how this adventure will seem to -you. To me it was atrocious; but Sylvia undertook -it with a child’s delight.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I had on a white hat with pink roses,” she -said, when she told me about it; “and I could -always do anything to a man when I had pink -roses on. Beauregard was waiting for Harriet -to go driving when I first saw him; she was -upstairs, late on purpose. He said something -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>about my looking like a rose myself—he was the -most obvious of human creatures. And when -he asked me to get in and sit by him, I said, -‘Harriet will be jealous.’ Of course he was -charmed at the idea of Harriet’s being jealous. -So he asked me to take a little drive with him, -and we stayed out an hour—and by the time we -got back, I had him!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Two days later he was on his knees begging -Sylvia to marry him. At which, of course, she -was horrified. “Why, you’re supposed to be -in love with my best friend!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was frank about it, poor soul. “Of course, -Miss Sylvia,” he explained, “I was in love with -Harriet; and Harriet’s a fine girl, all right. It’s -bad about her family, but I thought we could go -away where nobody knew her, and people would -accept her as my wife, and they’d soon forget. -She’s jolly and interesting, and all that. But -you understand, surely, Miss Sylvia—no man -would marry Harriet Atkinson if he could get -you. You—you’re quite different, Miss Sylvia. -You’re one of us!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He made Sylvia furious by his matter-of-fact -snobbery; and so she was lovely to him. She -told him that she, too, had been in love, but her -family was opposed to the man, and now she was -very unhappy. She told him that she was not -worthy of the love of such a man as he. Poor -Beauregard tried his best to reassure her, and -followed her about day and night for ten days, -and was a most dreadful nuisance.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>Each day she would report to Harriet the stage -of infatuation to which he had come; until at -last Harriet’s thirst for blood was satisfied. Then, -dressed all in snow-white muslin and lace, Sylvia -took her devoted suitor off to a seat in a distant -grape-arbor, and there administered the dose she -had prepared for him. “Mr. Dabney,” she said, -“this joke has got to be such a bore that I can’t -stand it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What joke?” asked Beauregard, innocently.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You know that I have called myself a friend -of Harriet Atkinson’s. When you came to me -and told me that you loved her, but wanted to -marry me because my family was better than -hers—did it never occur to you how it would -strike her friend? Evidently not. Well, let me -tell you then—I could think that it was the -stupidest joke I had ever heard, or else that you -were the most arrogant jack that ever walked on -two legs. I said that I would punish you—and -I’ve been doing it. You must understand that -I never felt the least particle of interest in you; -I never met a man who’d be less apt to attract -me, and I can’t see how you managed to interest -Harriet. I assure you you’ve no reason for -holding the extravagant opinion of yourself which -you do.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The poor youth sat staring at her, unable to -believe his ears. And so, of course, Sylvia began -to feel sorry for him. “I can see,” she said, -“that there might be something in you to like—if -only you had the courage to be yourself. But -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>you’re so terrorized by your aunts and uncles, -you’ve let them make you into such a dreadful -snob——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She paused. “You really think I am a snob?” -he cried.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The worst I ever met. I couldn’t bring myself -to discuss it with you. Let me give you this -one piece of advice, though; if you think you’re -too good to marry a girl, pray find it out before -you tell her that you love her. Of course, I’m -not sorry that it happened this time, for you -won’t break Harriet’s heart, and she’s a thousand -times too good for you. So I’m not sorry that -you’ve lost her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You—you think that I’ve lost her, Miss -Sylvia?” gasped the other.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Lost her?” echoed Sylvia. “Why, you don’t -mean—” But then she stopped. She must not -make it impossible for him to think of Harriet -again. “You’ve lost her, unless she’s a great -deal more generous than I’d ever be.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Beauregard took his drubbing very well. He -persuaded Sylvia to discuss his snobbery with -him, and confessed the offence, and got up quite -a fire of indignation against his banded relatives. -Also he admitted that Harriet was too good for -him, and that he had treated her like a cad. -His speeches grew shorter and his manner more -anxious, and Sylvia could see that his main -thought was to get back and find out if he’d -really lost Harriet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So she called her friend up on the ’phone and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>announced, “He’s coming. Get on your prettiest -dress without delay!” And then Sylvia went -away and had a cry—first, because she had said -such cruel things, and second, because her mother -and father would be unhappy when they learned -that Beauregard had escaped her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>An hour later Harriet called up to say that it -was all over. “Did you accept him?” asked -Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>To which the other answered, “You may trust -me now, Sunny! You have made him into a -soft dough, and I’ll knead him.” And sure enough, -the new Beauregard Dabney sent his aunts and -uncles flying, and followed Harriet to her summer -home on the Gulf, and was hardly to be induced -to wait for a conventional wedding—so eager was -he to prove to himself and to Sylvia Castleman -that he was really not a coward and a snob!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 31</h3> - -<p class='c010'>It was in the midst of these adventures that -Frank Shirley made his unexpected return from -the North. On the day when he came to see -her first, she naturally forgot about the existence -of Beauregard Dabney—until Beauregard suddenly -appeared and flew into a fit of jealousy. -Then the imp of mischievousness got hold of -Sylvia; she found herself wondering, “Would it -be possible for Frank to be jealous of Beauregard? -And if he was, how would he behave?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>“I knew it was dreadful then,” she told me, -“but I couldn’t have helped it if I’d been risking -my life. I had to see what Frank would do when -he was jealous. I simply <em>had</em> to! It was a kind -of insanity!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So she tried it, and did not get much fun out -of the experience. Frank was like an Indian in -captivity; he could not be made to cry out under -torture. He saw Beauregard’s position, and the -unconcealed delight of the family; but he set -his lips together and never gave a sign. Sylvia -was going away for the summer, and Beauregard -was talking about following her. There would -be other suitors following her, no doubt—and new -ones on the ground. Frank went home, and -Sylvia did not hear from him for several days.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The Beauregard episode came to its appointed -end, and then, in a letter to Frank, Sylvia mentioned -that she had accomplished her purpose—the -youth was engaged to Harriet. She thought -this was explaining things. But how could Frank -imagine the complications of the art of man-catching? -Was Sylvia jesting with him, or trying -to blind him, or apologizing to him, or what?</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia kept putting off her start to the mountains—she -could not bear to go while things were -in such a state between them. But, while she -was still hesitating, to her consternation she -received a note from him saying that he was -starting for Colorado. He had received a telegram -that an aunt was dead; there were business -matters to be attended to—some property which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>for his sisters’ sake could not be neglected. It -was a cold, business-like note, with not a word -of sorrow at parting; and Sylvia shed tears over -it. Such is the irrationality of those in love, she -had forgotten all about young Dabney or any -other cause for doubt and unhappiness she might -have given Frank. She thought that he, and he -alone, had been unkind. And meantime, Frank -had made up his mind that she was repenting -of her engagement, and that it was his duty to -make it easy for her to withdraw.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So the two spent an unhappy summer. Sylvia -let herself be taken about to parties, but she -grew more weary every hour of the social game. -“I’ve smiled until I’ve got the lockjaw,” she -would say. She was losing weight and growing -pale, in spite of the mountain air.</p> - -<p class='c011'>September came, and Harriet’s wedding was -set for the next month, and likewise Frank’s -return to Harvard. He came back from the -West, and Sylvia wrote asking him to come and -visit her for a week. But to her consternation -there came in reply a polite refusal from Frank. -There was so much that needed his attention -on the plantation, and some studying that must -be done if he was to make good. For three days -Sylvia struggled with herself, the last stand of -that barbarian pride of hers; then she gave way -completely and sent him a telegram: “Please -come at once.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She would have recalled it an hour afterwards, -but it was too late; and that evening she received -<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>an answer, to the effect that he would arrive in -the morning. She spent a sleepless night imagining -his coming, and a score of different ways in -which she would meet him. She would throw -herself at his feet and beg him not to torture -her; she would array herself in her newest gown -and fascinate him in the good old way; she would -climb once more upon the pinnacle of her pride -and compel him to humble himself before her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In the morning she drove to meet him, together -with a cousin who had come on the same train. -She never stood a worse social ordeal than that -drive and the luncheon with the family. But at -last they were alone together, and sat gazing at -each other with eyes full of bewilderment and -pain.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia,” said Frank, finally, “you do not -look happy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why should I be happy?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause. “Listen,” he said. “Can -we not deal honestly with each other—openly -and sincerely, for once. Surely that is the best -way, Sylvia—no matter how much it hurts.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am ready to do it,” she replied.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You don’t have to spare my feelings,” he went -on. “I know all you have to contend with, and -I sha’n’t blame you. The one thing I can’t bear -is to be played with, to be lured by false hopes, -to drag on and on, tormented by uncertainty.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was gazing at him, bewildered. “Why do -you say all that, Frank?” she cried.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why should I not say it?” he asked; and -again they stared at each other.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>Suddenly she broke out, in a voice full of -anguish, “Frank, this is what I want to know—answer -me this! Do you love me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do I love you?” he echoed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,”—and with greater intensity, “I want -you to be honest about it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Honey!” he said, his voice trembling, “it’s -the question of whether I’m allowed to love you. -It’s so terrible to me—I can’t stand the uncertainty.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She cried again, “But do you <em>want</em> to love me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She heard his voice break, she saw the emotion -that was shaking him, and with a sudden -sob she was in his arms. “Oh, Frank, Frank!” -she exclaimed. “What <em>have</em> we been doing to -each other?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so at last the fog of misunderstanding was -lifted. “Sweetheart,” he exclaimed, “what could -you have been thinking?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I thought you had stopped loving me because -I had been too bold, because I had been unwomanly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, Sylvia, you must be mad! Have I not -been hungry for your love?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, tell me that I can love you!” she wailed. -“Tell me that you won’t grow tired of me if I -love you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He clasped her in his arms and covered her lips -with kisses; he soothed her like a frightened child. -She was free now to sob out her grief, to tell him -what she had felt throughout all these months of -misery. “Oh, why didn’t you come to me like -this before?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>“But, Sylvia,” he answered, “how could I -know? I saw you letting another man make -love to you——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Frank, that was only a joke!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But how could I know that?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How could you imagine anything else? That -I could prefer Beauregard Dabney to you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s easy to say,” he replied. “But there -was your family—I knew what they’d prefer, -and I saw how they were struggling to keep us -apart. And what was I to think—why should -you be giving him your time, unless you wanted -to let me know——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah, don’t say that! Don’t say that!” she -cried, quickly. “It’s wicked that such a thing -should have happened.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We must learn to talk things out frankly,” -he said. “For one thing you must not let your -family come between us again. You must free -me from this dreadful fear that they are going -to take you from me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And suddenly Sylvia blazed up. All the misunderstanding -had come from the opposition of -her family, and her unwillingness to talk to Frank -about it. “I never saw it so clearly before,” -she exclaimed. “Frank, I can never make them -see things my way. And they’ll always have -this dreadful power over me—because I love -them so!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What can you do then?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m going to betray them to you!” she cried. -And as he looked puzzled, she went on, “I’m -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>going to tell you about them! I’m going to tell -you everything they’ve said and done, and everything -they may say and do in the future!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And that,” said Frank to me, “was the most -loving thing she ever said!” Such was the power, -in Sylvia’s world, of the ideal of the Family!</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span> - <h2 class='c005'><span class='large'>BOOK II</span><br /> <em>Sylvia Lingers</em></h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 1</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>At the railroad station in Boston, on an afternoon -in May, Sylvia Castleman and Mrs. Tuis -were arriving from New York. You must picture -Sylvia in a pale grey cloak, with a pale blue -blouse; also a grey hat with broad brim and -“bluets” on top. You can imagine, perhaps, -how her colors shone from under it. She was -meeting Frank for the first time in eight months.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The host of the occasion was Cousin Harley -Chilton, now also a student at Harvard. It was -mid-afternoon, and he had borrowed a motor-car -to show her something of Cambridge. Their -bags were sent to their hotel in the city, and -Frank took his place by Sylvia’s side. They -had to talk about commonplaces, but he could -feel her delight and eagerness like an electric -radiance. As they flew over the long bridge, -he wrapped a robe about her. What a thrill -went through him as he touched her! “Oh, I’m -so happy! so happy!” she exclaimed, her eyes -shining into his. He had given her a new name -in his letters, and he whispered it now into her -ear: “Lady Sunshine! Lady Sunshine!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They came to a vista of dark stone buildings, -buried in the foliage of enormous elms. “Here -are the grounds,” he said; and Sylvia cried, “Oh -Harley, go slowly. I want to see them.” Her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>cousin complied, and Frank began pointing out -the various buildings by name.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But suddenly the car drew in by the curb and -stopped. Harley leaned forward, remarking, -“Spark-plug loose, I think.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Now the sparking seemed to be all right, so -far as Frank could judge, but he did not know -very much about automobiles. In general he was -a guileless nature, and did not understand that -this was the beginning of Sylvia’s social career at -Harvard. But Sylvia, who knew about automobiles, -and still more about human nature, saw -two men strolling in her direction, and now about -twenty yards away—upper-classmen, clad in white -flannel trousers, blue coats, huge straw hats like -baskets, and ties knotted with that elaborately -studied carelessness which means that the wearer -has spent fifteen minutes before the mirror prior -to emerging from his room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Naturally Sylvia looked at them, for they -were interesting figures; and naturally they -looked back, for Sylvia was an interesting figure -too. One could not hear, but could almost see -them exclaiming: “By Jove! Who is she?” -They went by—almost, but not quite. They -stopped, half turned and stood hesitating.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Harley looked up from his spark-plugs, a frown -of annoyance on his face. He glanced toward -the two men. “Hello, Harmon,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Hello, Chilton,” was the reply. “Something -wrong?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” said Harley. “Can’t make it out.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>The two approached, lifting their hats, the -one who had spoken a trifle in advance. “Can -I help?” he asked, solicitously.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I think I can manage it,” answered Harley; -but the men did not move on. “Whose car?” -asked the one called Harmon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Bert Wilson’s,” said Harley. “I don’t know -its tricks.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other’s eyes swept the car, and of course -rested on Sylvia, who was in the seat nearest the -curb. That made an awkward moment—as he -intended it should. “Mr. Harmon,” said Harley, -“let me present you to my cousin, Miss Castleman.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The man brightened instantly and made a bow. -“I am delighted to meet you, Miss Castleman,” -he said, and introduced his companion. “You -have just arrived?” he inquired.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” said Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But you’ve been here before?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Never befo-ah,” said Sylvia; whereupon he -knew from what part of the world she had come. -There began an animated conversation—Harley -and his spark-plugs being forgotten entirely.</p> - -<p class='c011'>All this Frank watched, sitting back in his -seat in silence. He knew these men to be Seniors, -high and mighty swells from the “Gold Coast;” -but he had never been introduced to them, and -so he was technically as much a stranger to them -as if he had just arrived from the far South himself. -Sylvia, who was new to the social customs -of Harvard, never dreamed of this situation, and -so left him to watch the comedy undisturbed.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>There came along a couple of Freshmen; classmates -of Harley’s and members of his set. He -was buried in his labors, but they were not to -be put off. “What’s the matter, old man?” -they asked; and when he answered, “Don’t -know,” they stood, and waited for him to find -out, stealing meantime fascinated glances at the -vision in the car.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next came two street-boys; and of course -street-boys always stop and stare when there -is a car out of order. Then came an old gentleman, -who paused, smiling benevolently, as he -might have paused to survey a florist’s window. -So there was Sylvia, quite by accident, and in -perfect innocence, holding a levee on the sidewalk, -with two men whose ties proclaimed them -members of an ineffable and awe-inspiring “final” -club doing homage to her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My cousin’s a Freshman,” she was saying. -“So I’ll have three years more to come here.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, but think of us!” exclaimed the basket-hats -together. “We go out next month!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Can’t you manage to fail in your exams?” -she inquired. “Or is that impossible at Harvard?” -She looked from one to another, and -in the laugh that followed even the street-boys -and the benevolent old gentleman joined.</p> - -<p class='c011'>By that time the gathering was assuming the -proportions of a scandal. Men were coming -from the “Yard” to see what was the matter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Hello, Frank Shirley,” called a voice. “Anybody -hurt?” And Sylvia answered in a low -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>voice, “Yes, several.” She looked straight into -Harmon’s eyes, and she got his answer—that she -had not spoken too rashly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">séance</span></i> came to a sudden end, because -Harley realized that he was subjecting club-men -to an ordeal on the street. He straightened up -from his spark-plug. “I think she’s all right -now,” he said—and to one of the street-boys, -“Crank her up, there.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Where are you stopping?” asked Harmon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Harley named the hotel, but did not take the -hint—which was presumptuous in a Freshman.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Good-bye, Miss Castleman,” said the Senior, -wistfully; and the crowd parted and the car -went on.</p> - -<p class='c011'>After which Sylvia sank back in her seat and -looked at Frank and laughed. “Isn’t it wonderful,” -she exclaimed, “what a woman can do with -her eyes!”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 2</h3> - -<p class='c010'>They returned to the hotel, where there were -engagements—a whole world waiting to be conquered. -But Sylvia delivered an ultimatum; -she would pay no attention to anyone until she -had an hour alone with Frank. When Aunt -Varina had meekly left her, she first flew into -Frank’s arms and permitted him to kiss her; -and then, seated decorously in a separate chair, -she proceeded to explain to him the mystery of -her presence there.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>She had come to New York to buy clothes for -herself and the rest of the family; that much -Frank had known. He had begged her to run -up to Cambridge, but the family had refused -permission. Celeste was going to have a house -party, the baby had been having more convulsions—these -were only two of a dozen reasons -why she must return. Frank had been intending -to go down to New York to see her—when suddenly -had come a telegram, saying that she would -arrive the next afternoon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was my scheme,” she said, “and I expect -you to be proud of me when you hear it. If -you scold me about it, Frank——!” She said -this with the tone of voice that she used when -it was necessary to disarm some one.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was difficult for Frank to imagine himself -objecting to any device which had brought her -there. “Go ahead, honey,” said he.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It has to do with Harley,” she explained. -“Mother sent me one of his letters, telling about -the terrible time he’s been having here. You -see, he’s scared to death for fear he won’t make -the ‘Dickey’—or that he won’t be among the -earlier tens. So they were all upset, and they’ve -been scurrying round getting letters of introduction -for him, moving heaven and earth to get -him in with the right people. I read his letter, -and then suddenly the thought flashed over me, -‘There’s my chance!’ Don’t you see?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” said Frank, and shook his head—“I -don’t see at all.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>“Sometimes,” said the girl, “when I think -about you, I get frightened, because—if you -knew how wicked I really am—! Well, anyhow, -I sat down and wrote to Harley that he was a -goose, and that if he had sense enough to get -me to Harvard, he’d make the ‘Dickey,’ and -one of the ‘final’ clubs as well. I told him to -write Aunt Nannie at once; and sure enough, -just about the time they got Harley’s letter, -there came a telegram saying I might come!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was impossible for Frank not to laugh—if -it were only because Sylvia was so happy. “So,” -he said, “you’ve come to be a social puller-in -for Harley!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Now, Frank, don’t be horrid! I saw it this -way—and it’s obvious arithmetic: If I do this, -I’ll see Frank part of every day for a couple of -weeks; if I don’t, I’ll only see him for a day -when he comes to New York. There’s only one -trouble—you must promise not to mind.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We must not tell anybody that we’re engaged. -If people knew that, I couldn’t do much with -them.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But I’ve told some people.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Whom?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, my room-mate.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He’s not a club man, so that won’t matter. -It doesn’t really matter, if we simply don’t announce -it. You must promise not to mind, -Frank—be good, and let me have my fun in my -foolish way, and you sit by and smile, as you did -in the car.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>Frank’s answer was that he expected to sit by -and smile all his life; a statement which led to -a discussion between them, for Sylvia made -objection to his desire to shrink from the world, -and declared that she meant to fight for him, and -manage him, and make something out of him. -When these discussions arose he would laugh, -in his quiet, good-natured way, and picture himself -as a diplomat at St. James’, wearing knee-breeches -and winning new empires by means of -the smiles of “Lady Sunshine.” “But, you -forget one thing,” he said—“that I came to -Harvard to learn something.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“When you go out into the world,” propounded -Sylvia, “you’ll realize that the things one knows -aren’t half so important as the people one knows.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Frank laughed. “That wouldn’t be such a -bad motto for our Alma Mater,” he said; then, -thinking it over, “They might put it up as an -inscription, where Freshmen with social ambitions -could learn it. A motto for all college climbers—‘Not -the things one knows, but the people one -knows!’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was looking at him, a trifle worried. -“Frank,” she said, “suppose you go through life -finding fault with everything in that fashion?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know,” he replied. “But I shall -always fight a wrong when I see one. Wait till -you’ve been here a while, and you’ll see about -this!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I ought to have come before,” she said; “I -could have solved so many problems for you. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>It’s the same everywhere in life—those who are -out rail at those who are in, but when you hear -both sides, you see the matter differently. I’ve -a grudge against you, Frank—you misrepresented -things. You told me they had abolished the -Fraternity system here, and I didn’t know about -the clubs, and so I permitted you to be a ‘goat.’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They call it a ‘rough-neck’ here,” he corrected.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, a ‘rough-neck.’ Anyway, I let you -take a back seat. And just as if you didn’t have -ability——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ability!” Frank exclaimed. Then, checking -himself, he went on gently to explain the social -system he had found at Harvard. In the Southern -colleges, ability and good breeding might still -get a poor man recognition. But the clubs here -were run by a little group of Boston and New -York society men, who had been kept in a “set” -from the day they were born. They went to -kindergarten together, to dancing school together—their -sisters had private sewing circles, instead -of those at church. They had their semi-private -dormitories on Auburn Street—one might come -with a string of automobiles and a stud of polo -ponies, but he would find that his money would -not rent one of those places unless the crowd had -given its O. K. They roomed apart, they ate and -drank apart, and the men in their own class never -even met them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia listened in bewilderment. “Surely, -Frank,” she exclaimed, “there must be some -friendliness——”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>He smiled. “Just as I said, honey—you’re -judging by the South. We’ve snobbery enough -there, God knows—but some of us are kind-hearted. -You can’t imagine things up here—how -cold and formal people are. They have -their millions of dollars and the social position -this gives them; they are jealous of those who -have more and suspicious of those who have -less—and they’ve been that way for so long that -every plain human feeling is dead in them. Take -a man like Douglas van Tuiver, for example. -You’ve heard of him, I suppose?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ve heard of the van Tuivers, of course.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, Douglas is our bright particular social -star just now. He’s inherited from three estates -already—the Lord only knows how many tens of -millions in his own right. He’s gone the ‘Gold -Coast’ crowd one better—has his own private -house here in Cambridge, and an apartment in -Boston also, I’m told. He entered society there -at the same time that he entered college; and he -doesn’t think much of our social life—except the -little set he’d already met in Boston and New -York. He’s stiff and serious as a chief justice—self-conscious, -condescending——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you know him?” asked Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I never met him, of course; but I see him -all the time, because he’s in some of my sections.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In some of your sections!” cried Sylvia. -“And you never met him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other laughed. “You see, honey,” he said, -“how little you are able to imagine life at Harvard! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>Douglas, my dear, has been yachting with -English peers; he has Scotch earls for ancestors, -and an accent that he has acquired in their honor. -He sets more store by them, I suppose, than he -does by his old Knickerbocker ancestors, who left -him several farms between Fifth and Madison -Avenues.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is he a club man?” asked Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He lives to set the social standards for our -clubs; a sort of <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">arbiter elegantiarum</span></i>. It’s one of -the sayings they attribute to him, that he came -to Harvard because American university life was -in need of ‘tone.’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Sylvia; and again, -in a lower voice, “Oh, dear me!” She pondered, -and then with sudden interest inquired, “He’d -be a good man for Harley to meet, wouldn’t he?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“None better,” smiled Frank, “if he wants to -make the ‘Dickey.’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then,” said Sylvia, “he’s the man I’d best -go after.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other laughed. “All right, honey. But -you’ll find him hard to interest, I warn you. His -career has all been planned—he’s to marry -Dorothy Cortlandt, who’ll bring him ten or -twenty millions more.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And Sylvia set her lips in a dangerous expression. -“He can marry Dorothy Cortlandt,” she -said, “but not until I’ve got through with him!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 3</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>That evening was reserved for a performance -of the “Glee Club;” and just before dinner -Harley came in, bubbling over with delight, to -say that Harmon had called up and invited him -to bring his cousin and share his box.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so behold Sylvia, clad in pale blue silk, -with touches of gold embroidery and a gold band -across one shoulder, swimming like a new planet -into the ken of the watchers of these brilliantly -lighted skies. There were few acquaintances of -“Bob” Harmon who did not come to the door -of the box to get a closer view of the phenomenon; -while the delighted cousin found himself besieged. -Sedate upper-classmen put their arms across his -shoulders, tremendous club-men got him by the -coat sleeve in the lobby. “Let us in on that, -Chilton!” “Now don’t be a hog, old man!”—“You -know me, Chilton!” Yes, Harley knew -them all, and calculated to keep knowing them -for some time to come.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The next morning he came early, and took Sylvia -for a drive, to lay before her the whole situation, -and coach her for the part she was to play; for -this was the enemy’s country, and there were -many pitfalls to be avoided.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It ought perhaps to be explained at the outset -how it happened that Aunt Nannie, whose time -was spent in erecting monuments to Southern -heroes, had sent one of her sons to the headquarters -of those who had slain them. It had come about -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>through the seductions of a young lady named -Edith Winthrop, whose father was building a -railroad through half a dozen of the Southern -states. He had brought a private-train party -upon an inspection trip, and the Major and -Harley, happening to be at the capital, had met -them at a luncheon given by the Governor. -Everybody knows, of course, that the Winthrops -live in Boston; and everybody in Boston knows -of Mrs. Isabel Winthrop, that charming matron -whose home has been as the axle of the Hub for -the past twenty years. At Cambridge it was at -first a scandal, and later a tradition, how the -lovely lady was strolling in the “Yard” one -spring evening, and a group of Seniors broke into -the merry chorus of a popular musical-comedy -air—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Isabella, Isabella,</div> - <div class='line'>Is a queen of good society!</div> - <div class='line'>Isabella, Isabella,</div> - <div class='line'>Is the dandy queen of Spain!”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>And now Harley had come to Cambridge to -lay siege to the princess of this line. They had -invited him to tea, where he had felt himself an -obscure and humiliated Freshman. In his pride -he had gone away, vowing that he would not -return until he had made the “Dickey,” and made -it without any social aid from the lady of his -adoration. But, alas, Harley had found this a -task of undreamed-of difficulty. There were so -many Edith Winthrops in Boston, New York, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>Philadelphia and other centers of good breeding; -and there were so many obscure Freshmen trying -to make the “Dickey” in order to shine before -them!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You can’t imagine how it is, Sylvia,” he said. -“They don’t know us here—we’re nobodies. -I’ve met all the Southern men who amount to -anything, but it’s Eastern men who run the -worth-while clubs. And it’s almost impossible to -meet them—I’d be ashamed to tell you how I’ve -had to toady.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Harley!” exclaimed the girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll tell you the facts,” he answered—“you’ll -have to face them—just as I did.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But how could you stay?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He laughed. “I stayed,” he said, “because I -wanted Edith.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He paused, then continued: “First I thought -I’d try football; but you see I haven’t weight -enough—I only made the Freshman ‘scrub.’ -I joined the Shooting Club—and I certainly can -shoot, you know; but that hasn’t seemed to help -very much. I went in for the Banjo Club, and -I’ve worked my fingers off, and I expect to make -the Board, but I don’t think that will be enough. -You see, ability really doesn’t count at all.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s what Frank said,” remarked Sylvia, -sympathetically. “What is it that counts? -Learning?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Rot—no!” exclaimed Harley.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then what is it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s knowing the right people. But you can’t -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>manage that here—it has to be done before you -get to college. The crowd doesn’t need you, -they don’t care what you think about them—and -I tell you, they know how to give you the cold -shoulder!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was indignant in spite of herself. “You, -a Castleman!” she exclaimed. “Why, your -ancestors were governors of this place while -theirs were tavern-keepers and blacksmiths!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know,” said the other—“but it isn’t ancestors -that count here—it’s being on the ground and -holding on to what you’ve got.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They’re all rich men, I suppose?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perfectly rotten! You’re simply out of it -from the start. I heard of a man last year who -spent fifty thousand dollars trying to make the -‘Dickey,’ and then only got in the seventh ten! -You’ve no idea of the lengths men go to; they -pull every sort of wire, social and business and -financial and political—they bring on their fathers -and brothers to help them——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And their cousins,” said Sylvia, and brought -the discussion to an end with a laugh. “Now -come, Harley,” she said, after a pause. “Let’s -get down to business. You want me to meet -the right men, and to make them aware of the -existence of my Freshman cousin. Have you got -a list of the men? Or am I to know by their -ties?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Harley named and described several she would -meet. Through them she would, of course, meet -others; she must feel her way step by step, being -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>guided by circumstances. There was another -matter, which was delicate, but must be broached. -“I don’t want to seem like a cad,” said he, -“but you see, Frank Shirley isn’t a club man—he -hasn’t tried to be—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I understand,” said Sylvia, with a smile.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Of course, the fact that you come from his -home town, that’s excuse enough for his knowing -you. But if you make it too conspicuous—that -is—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Harley stopped. “It’s all right, Harley,” -smiled Sylvia; “you may be sure that Frank -Shirley has too much of a sense of humor to want -to get in our way.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other hesitated over the remark. It -looked like deep water, and he decided not to -venture in. “It’s not only that,” he went on—“there’s -Frank’s crowd. They’re all outsiders, -and one or two of them especially are impossible.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In what way?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, there’s Jack Colton, Frank’s room-mate. -He’s gone out of his way to make himself obnoxious -to everybody. He’s done it deliberately, and I -suppose he has his reasons for it. I only hope he -has sense enough not to want to ‘queer’ you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What’s he done?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He’s a Western chap—from Wyoming, I -think. Seems to have more money than he -knows how to spend decently. He insisted on -smoking a pipe in his Freshman year, and when -they tried to haze him, he fought. He’s wild -as anything, they say—goes off on a spree every -month or two—”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>“How does Frank come to be rooming with -such a man?” asked Sylvia, in surprise.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Met him traveling, I understand. They -were in a train-wreck.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, that’s the man! But Frank didn’t tell -me he was wild.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well,” said the other, “Frank would naturally -stand up for him. I suppose he’s trying to keep -him straight.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a silence. Then suddenly Sylvia -asked, “Harley, did you ever meet Douglas van -Tuiver?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No!” replied Harley. “Why do you ask?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nothing—only I heard of him, and I was -thinking perhaps he’d be a good man to help -you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Small doubt of that,” said the boy, with a -laugh. “But it might be difficult to meet him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, he picks the people he meets. And he -doesn’t come to public affairs.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Stop and think a minute. Is there nobody -who might know him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why—there’s Mrs. Winthrop.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He goes there?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They’re great chums, I understand. I could -get her to invite you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Sylvia, after a moment’s thought, shook her -head. “No,” she said, “I think I’ll let him take -me to her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“By Jove!” laughed Harley. “That’s cool!” -And then he asked, curiously, “What makes you -pick him out?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>“I don’t know,” said Sylvia. “I find myself -thinking about him. You see, I meet men like -Mr. Harmon and the others last night—they’re -all obvious. I’ve known them by the dozen -before, and I can always tell what they’ll say. -But this man sounds as if he might be different.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Humph!” said Harley. “I wish you could -get a chance! But I fear you’d find him a difficult -proposition. Girls must be forever throwing -themselves at his head—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” said Sylvia. “But I wouldn’t make -that mistake.” Then, after a pause, she added, -“I think it might be good for him, too. I might -make a man of him!”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 4</h3> - -<p class='c010'>There was a Senior named Thurlow, whom -Sylvia had met at the “Glee Club” affair, and -who, after judicious approach through Harley and -Aunt Varina, had secured her promise to come to -tea in his rooms. So she saw one of the dormitories -on Auburn Street, having such modern -conveniences as “buttons,” a squash court, and -a white marble swimming pool—with a lounging -room at one end, and easy chairs from which to -watch one’s fellow mermen at play.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Thurlow showed her about his own apartments, -equipped with that kind of simplicity that is so -notoriously expensive. He showed her his tennis -cups and rowing trophies, talking most interestingly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>about the wonderful modern art, the -pulling of an oar—in which there are no less than -seventy errors a man can commit in the “catch,” -and a hundred-and-seventy in the “stroke.” -Thurlow, it appeared, must have committed several -in last year’s race, for he had snapped his -oar, and only saved the day by jumping overboard, -being picked up in a state of collapse, -and reported as drowned in the first newspaper -extras.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There came others of his set: Jackson, the -coxswain of the crew, known as “Little Billee,” -a wizened up and drolly cynical personage; also -Bates, his room-mate, who was called “Tubby,” -and was hard put to it when the ladies asked him -why, because he could not explain that he was -“a tub of guts.” The vats declared that he -weighed two hundred and twenty when he was -in training for the fat man’s race; he had been -elected the official funny man of his class, and -whenever he made a joke he led off with a queer -little cackle of high-pitched laughter, which never -failed to carry the company with him. There -came Arlow Bynner, the famous quarter-back, -and Tom, his twin brother, so much like him that -when he had first come to college the Sophomores -had dyed his hair. There came Shackleford, -millionaire man of fashion, who had been picked -for president of the new Senior Class, and who -looked so immaculate that Sylvia thought of -magazine advertisements of leisure-class brands of -tobacco.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>There were six men in the room, and only two -women—of which one was Aunt Varina, the chaperone. -You can imagine that it was an ordeal -for the other woman! It is easy enough for a -girl to make out when she is looking at memorial -inscriptions and historic elm trees, at smoking -outfits and rowing sculls; but it’s another matter -to be cornered by six fastidious upper-classmen, -their looks saying plainer than words: “We’ve -been hearing about you, but we’re from Missouri—now -bring out your bag of tricks!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Poor Sylvia—she began, as usual, by having -a fright. She could think of nothing to say to -all these men. She chose this moment to recollect -some warnings which had been given by Harriet, -before she left home, as to the exactingness -and blaséness of Northern college men; also -some half-ventured hints of her cousin, that -possibly her arrows might be too light in the -shaft for the social heavyweights of this intellectual -center. She gazed from one to another -in agony; she bit her tongue until she tasted -blood, scolding and exhorting herself like a football -coach driving a “scrub” team.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was “Bob” Harmon whose coming saved -her. The very sight of him brought her inspiration. -She had managed him, had she not? -Where was the man she had ever failed to manage? -She recollected how she had looked at him, and -what she had said to him in the auto; there came -suddenly the trumpet-call in her soul, in the far -deeps of her the trampling and trembling, the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>fluttering of banners and murmuring of voices—signs -of the arrival of that rescuing host which -came to her always in emergencies, and constituted -the miracle of Sylvia. Her friend Harriet Atkinson, -herself no dullard in company, would sit by -and watch the phenomenon in awe. “Sunny,” -she would say, “I can see it coming! I can see -it beginning to bubble! The light comes into -your eyes, and I whisper to myself, ‘Now, now! -She’s going to make a killing!’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>What is it—who can say? That awakening in -the soul of man, that sense of uplift, of new -power arriving, of mastery conscious and exultant! -To some it is known as genius, and to others as -God. To have possessed it in some great crisis -is to have made history; and most strange have -been the courses to which men have been lured -by the dream of keeping it continuously—to stand -upon a pillar and be devoured by worms, to hide -in desert caves and lash one’s flesh to strips—or -to wear tight stays and high-heeled shoes, and -venture into a den of Harvard club-men!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 5</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Half an hour or so later, when they were -passing tea and cake, the flame of her fun burned -less brightly for a few minutes, and she had time -to remember a purpose which was stored away -in the back of her mind. All her faculties now -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>became centered upon it; and those who wish -may follow the winding serpent of her cunning.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had been telling them about the negro -boy who had bitten a piece out of the baby. -Thurlow remarked, “Yours must be an interesting -part of the world.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We love it,” she said. “But you wouldn’t.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why not?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You’d miss too many things you are used to. -Our college boys have no such luxury as this.” -She looked about her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You think this so very luxurious?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I do indeed. I’m not sure that I think it’s -good taste for young fellows.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But why not?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It gets you out of touch with life,” replied -Sylvia, with charming gravity. (“Don’t play too -long on one string!” had been a maxim of Lady -Dee.) “I think it’s demoralizing. This place -might be a sanatorium instead of a dormitory—if -only you had elevators to take the invalids -upstairs.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Somebody remarked, “We have elevators in -many of the dormitories.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is that really so?” asked Sylvia. “I don’t -see how you can go beyond that—unless some -of you take to having private houses.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a laugh. “We’ve come to that, -too,” said Bates.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What?” cried the girl. “Surely not!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Douglas van Tuiver has a house,” replied -Bates.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>“Surely you are jesting!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No! I’ll show it to you, Miss Castleman.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who is Douglas van Tuiver?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The men glanced at one another. “Haven’t -you ever heard of the van Tuivers?” asked one.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who are they?” countered Sylvia, who never -lied when she could avoid it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They are one of our oldest families,” said -Shackleford—who came from New York. “Also -one of the best known.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well,” said Sylvia, duly rebuked, “you see -how very provincial I am.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He’s a nephew of Mrs. Harold Cliveden,” -ventured Harmon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Cliveden?” repeated Sylvia. “I think I’ve -heard that name.” She kept a straight face—though -the lady was the reigning queen of Newport, -and a theme of the society gossip of all -American newspapers. Then, not to embarrass -her friends by too great ignorance, she hurried -on, “But you surely don’t mean that this man has -a house all to himself?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He has,” said Thurlow.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He has more than that,” said Jackson. “He -has a castle in Scotland.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t mind castles so much. One can -inherit them——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, he bought this one.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, even so—castles are romantic and -interesting. One might have a dream of founding -a family. But for a man to come to college and -occupy a whole house—what motive could he -have but ostentation?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>No one answered—though she waited for an -answer. At last, with a grave face, she pronounced -the judgment, “I would expect to find -such a man a degenerate.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They were evidently shocked, but covered it -by laughing. “Lord!” said Bates, “I’d like to -have van Tuiver hear that!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Probably it would be good for him,” replied -Sylvia, coldly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Everybody grinned. “Wish you’d tell him!” -said the man.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’d be delighted.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Would you really?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why certainly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“By Jove, I believe you’d do it!” declared -Bates.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But why shouldn’t I do it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know. When people meet van -Tuiver they sometimes lose their nerve.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is he so very terrible?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, he’s rather imposing.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then Sylvia took a new line. “Of course,” -she said, hesitatingly, “I wouldn’t want to be -irreverent——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“May I go and bring him here?” inquired -Bates, eagerly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>To which she replied, “Perhaps one owes more -deference to Royalty. Shouldn’t you take me to -him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We’ll keep you on a throne of your own,” -said Thurlow—“at least, while you are here.” -(It was quite as if he had been a Southern man.)</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>But Bates was not to be diverted from his -idea. “Won’t you let me go and get him?” he -inquired.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Does he visit in dormitories?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Really, Miss Castleman, I’m not joking. -Wouldn’t you like to meet him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why should I?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Because—we’d all like to see what would -happen.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“From what you say about him,” remarked -Sylvia, “he sounds to me like a bore. Or -at any rate, a young man who is in need of -chastening.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Exactly!” cried Bates. “And we’d like to -see you attend to it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The time had come, Sylvia thought, to play -upon a new string. She looked about her with -a slightly <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">distrait</span></i> air. “Don’t you think,” she -inquired, “that we are giving him too large a -portion of this charming afternoon?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The men appreciated the compliment; but the -other theme still enticed them. Said Jackson, -“We can’t give up the idea of the chastening, Miss -Castleman.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Of course, if you are afraid of him—” added -Bates, slyly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a momentary flash in Sylvia’s eyes. -But then she laughed—“You can’t play a game -like that on me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We would <em>so</em> like,” said Jackson, “to see -van Tuiver get a drubbing!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please, Miss Castleman!” added Harmon, -“give him a drubbing!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>But the girl only held out her white-gloved -hands. “Look at these,” she said, “how pure -and spotless!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Said “Tubby”: “I hereby register a vow, I will -never partake of food again until you two have -met!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia rose, looking bored. “I’m going to run -away,” she said, “if you don’t find something -interesting to talk about.” And strolling towards -a cabinet, “Mr. Thurlow, come and introduce -me to this charming little Billikin!”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 6</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia had promised to go with Frank the next -day to a luncheon in his rooms. She found herself -looking forward with relief to meeting his -“crowd.” “Oh, Frank,” she said, when they -had set out together, “you’ve no idea how glad -I am to see you. I have such a craving for -something home-like. You can’t understand, -perhaps——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps I can,” said Frank, smiling. “I -can’t say that I’ve been in Boston society, but -I’ve been on the outskirts.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Frank,” she exclaimed, “you don’t ever worry -about me, do you? Truly, the more I see of -other people, the more I love you. And all I -want is to be alone with you. I’m tired of the -game. Everybody expects me to be pert and -saucy; and I can be it, you know——”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>She stopped, and he smiled. “Yes, I know.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But since I’ve met you, I get sorry, sometimes -even ashamed. You see what you’ve done to -me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What in the world have you been doing?” -he asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, some day I’ll tell you—don’t ask me now. -It’s just that I’m tired of society—I wasn’t cut -out for the life.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, it was only a few days ago that you -were talking about bringing me out!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know, Frank. I try to play the game, but -deep down in my soul I hate it. I’m successful -now, but it’s the truth that in the beginning -I never took a step that I wasn’t driven. When -I went into a ball-room, my teeth would chatter -with fright, and I’d want to hide in a corner. -Aunt Nannie would get hold of me, and take me -into the dressing-room, and scold me and stir -me up. I can hear her now. ‘You! Sylvia -Castleman, my niece, a wallflower! Have you -forgotten who you are?’ So then, of course, I’d -have to think of my ancestors and be worthy of -them. She’d pinch my cheeks until they were -red, and wipe the wet corners of my eyes, and -put a fresh dab of powder on my nose, and stick -in a strand of hair, and twist a curl, and shift -a bow of ribbon to the other shoulder—and then -out I’d go to be stared at.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You’ve got the job pretty well in hand by -now,” smiled Frank.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I know, but I don’t really like it—not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>with my real self. I’m always thinking what -fun it would be to be natural! I wonder what -I’d turn into! And whether you’d like me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’d take my chances.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Would you really, Frank? Just suppose I -stopped dressing, for instance? Suppose I never -wore high heels and stiff collars? Suppose I dispensed -with my <em>modiste</em>, and you discovered that -I had no figure.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’d take my chances,” he laughed again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You look at me, and you like what you see. -But you’ve no idea what a work of art I am, nor -how much I cost—thousands and thousands of -dollars! And so many people to watch me and -scold me—so much work to be done on me, day -after day! Suppose my hair wasn’t curled, for -instance! Or suppose my nose were shiny!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t mind shiny so much, Sylvia——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah! But if it was red! That’s what they’re -always hammering into me—whenever I forget -my veil. Or look at these lovely soft hands of -mine—such beautiful nails. Do you realize that -I have to keep them in glycerine gloves all night—and -ugh! how clammy and nasty they are when -it’s cold! And the time it takes to keep the nails -polished!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You see,” she went on, after a pause, “you -don’t take my wickedness seriously. But you -should ask Harriet Atkinson about some of the -things we’ve done. She’ll come and say, ‘There’s -a new man coming to-night. Teach me a “spiel”!’ -She’ll tell me all about him, where he comes from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>and what he likes, and I’ll tell her what to say -and what to pretend to be. And I’ve done it -myself—hundreds of times.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Did you do it for me?” asked Frank, -innocently.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia paused. “I tried to,” she said. “Sometimes -I did, but then again I couldn’t.” She -put her hand upon his arm, and he felt a pressure, -thrilling him with a swift delight.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But they had come now to the dormitory, so -her outburst had to end. She took her hand from -his arm, saying, “Frank, I don’t want you to kiss -me any more until we’re married. I’m going to -stop doing everything that makes me ashamed!”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 7</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Behold now a new “Lady Sunshine,” in a clean -white apron which her hosts had provided for -the occasion, stirring mushrooms in cream and -superintending stewed chicken, while Frank -washed salad in the bathroom, and Jack Colton -was half way up to his elbows in mayonnaise. -This was the first time that Sylvia had met -Frank’s room-mate, with whom she had intended -to be very stern, because of his “wildness.” -Although she was used to wild boys, and had -helped to tame a number of them, she did not -approve of such qualities in a companion of her -lover.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>Jack, however, was a boy with what the Irish -call “a way with him.” He had curly brown hair -and a winning countenance, and such a laugh -that it was not easy to disagree with him. Moreover -a halo of romance hung about him, owing to -the fact that Frank had first met him after a -railroad wreck, sitting in the snow and holding -in his lap a baby whose mother had been killed. -Jack had engaged a nurse and sent the child all -the way out to his own mother in Wyoming; -and how could any girl object to a friendship -begun under such auspices? If his mother was -indulgent and sent him more pocket money than -he could decently spend, might not one regard -that as the boy’s misfortune rather than his -fault?</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was Dennis Dulanty, a fair-haired young -Irishman who wrote poems, and was Sylvia’s -slave from the first moment she entered the -room. There was Tom Firmin, a heavily built -man with a huge head made bigger by thick, -black hair. Firmin was working his way through -college and had no time for luncheon parties, but -he had come this once to meet Sylvia. The girl -listened to him with some awe, because Frank -had said he had the best mind in the class. -Finally there was Jack’s married sister, who -lived in Boston, and was chaperone.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There were four little tables with four chafing -dishes, and two study tables put together and -covered with a spread of linen and silver. There -were strawberries which Dulanty had dropped -upon the floor; there were sandwiches which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>Tom Firmin had tried in vain to cut thin, and -wine about which Jack Colton talked far too -wisely, for one so young. Jack had been round -the world, and had tasted the vintage of many -countries, and told such interesting adventures -that one forgot one’s disapproval.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia found herself happy here, and decided -that Frank’s crowd was far more interesting than -Thurlow’s. All these men were outsiders, holding -themselves aloof from the social life of the University -and resentful of the conditions they had -found there. After awhile it occurred to Sylvia -that it would be entertaining to hear what these -men would have to say upon a subject which had -been occupying her mind; so, by a few deft -touches, she brought the conversation to a point -where some one else was moved to mention the -name of Douglas van Tuiver.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Immediately she discovered that she had -touched a live wire. There was Tom Firmin, -frowning under his thick black eyebrows. “For -my part, I have just one thing to say: a man who -has any pretense at self-respect cannot even know -him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is he as bad as all that?” Sylvia asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s not a question of personality—it’s a -question of the amount of his wealth.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia would have appreciated this if it had -been a jest. But apparently the speaker was -serious, and so she gazed at him in perplexity. -“Is a very rich man to have no friends?” she -asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>“Never fear,” laughed Jack, “there are plenty -of tuft-hunters who will keep him company.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But why should you sentence him to the -company of tuft-hunters, just because he happens -to be born with a lot of money?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It isn’t I that sentence him,” said Firmin—“it’s -the nature of things.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But,” exclaimed the girl, “I’ve had millionaires -for friends—and I hope I’m not the dreadful -thing you say.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other smiled for the first time. “Frank -Shirley insists that there are angels upon earth,” -he said. “But if you don’t mind, Miss Castleman, -I’d prefer to illustrate this argument by -every-day mortals like myself. I’m willing to -admit, as a theoretical proposition, that there -might be a disinterested friendship between a -poor man and a multimillionaire; but only if -the poor man is a Diogenes and stays in his tub. -I mean, if he has no business affairs of any sort, -and takes no part in social life; if he never lets -the multimillionaire take him automobiling or -invite him to dinner; if he has no marriageable -sisters, and the multimillionaire has none either. -But all these, you must admit, make a difficult -collection of circumstances.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Castleman,” said Jack, “you can see -why we call Tom Firmin our Anarchist.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Sylvia was not to be diverted. She had -never heard such ideas as this, and she wanted -to understand them. “You must think hardly -of human nature!” she objected.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>“As I said before, it has nothing whatever to -do with personality, it’s the automatic effect of -a huge sum of money. Take my own case, for -example—so I can talk brutally and not hurt -anyone. I want to be a lawyer, but meanwhile -I have to earn my living. I love a girl, but I’ve -no hope of marrying, because I’m poor and she’s -poor. If I struggle along in the usual way, it’ll -be five years—maybe ten years—before we can -marry. But here I am in college, and here’s -Douglas van Tuiver; if by any device of any -sort I can manage to penetrate his consciousness—if -I can make him think me a wit or a scholar, -a boon companion or a great soul, the best halfback -in college or an amusing old bull in the -social china shop—why, then right away things -are easier for me. You’ve heard what Thackeray -said about walking down Piccadilly with a duke -on each arm? If I can walk across the Yard -with Douglas van Tuiver, then a lot of important -men suddenly realize that I exist; the first thing -you know I make a club, and so when I come out -of college I’m the chum of some of the men who -are running the country, and I have a salary of -five thousand a year at the start, and ten thousand -in a year or two, a hundred thousand before I’m -forty, and a go at a rich marriage into the bargain. -Do you think there are many would-be lawyers -to whom all that would be no temptation? Let -me tell you, it’s the temptation which has turned -many a man in this college into a boot-licker!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Mr. Firmin!” cried Sylvia, in dismay. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>“What is your idea? Would you forbid rich men -coming to college?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>To which the other replied, “I’d go much farther -back than that, Miss Castleman—I’d forbid rich -men existing.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was genuinely shocked. She had never -heard such words even in jest, and she thought -Tom Firmin a terrifying person. “You see,” -laughed Jack, “he really <em>is</em> an Anarchist!” And -Sylvia believed him, and resolved to remonstrate -with Frank about having such friends. But -nevertheless she went out from that breakfast -party with something new to think about in -connection with Douglas van Tuiver—and with -her mind made up that Mr. “Tubby” Bates would -have to die of starvation!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 8</h3> - -<p class='c010'>That afternoon Sylvia was invited to one of -the club teas. These were very exclusive affairs, -and Jackson, who asked her, mentioned that -among those who poured tea would be Mrs. -Isabel Winthrop; also that Mrs. Winthrop had -expressed a particular desire to meet her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>This would mark a new stage in Sylvia’s campaign -for her cousin; but quite apart from that, -she was curious to meet this <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">belle ideal</span></i> of Auburn -Street. Sylvia had listened attentively to what -the denizens of the “Gold Coast” had to say about -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>“Queen Isabella,” and had found herself rather -awe-stricken. When one spoke of a favorite -hostess in the South, one gave her credit for -tact, for charm, perhaps even for brilliance. But -apparently Mrs. Winthrop was the possessor of -a much more difficult and perplexing attribute—a -rare and lofty soul. She was a woman of real -intellect, they said—she had written a book upon -theories of æsthetics, and had taken a degree in -philosophy at the older Cambridge across the -seas. Such things were quite unknown in Southern -society, where a girl was rather taught to hide -her superfluous education, for fear of scaring the -men away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So Sylvia found herself in a state of considerable -apprehension. If it had been a man, she -would have taken her chances; when she had -attended Commencement at her State University, -there were professors who would call and talk -about Assyrian bricks, and the relation between -ions and corpuscles—yet by listening closely, and -putting in a deft touch now and then to make -them talk about themselves, Sylvia had managed -to impress them as an intellectual young lady. -But now she had to deal with that natural enemy -of a woman—another woman. How was the -ordeal to be faced?</p> - -<p class='c011'>Lady Dee had handed down the formula: -“When in difficulty, look the person in the eyes, -and remember who you are.” This was the -counsel which came to Sylvia’s rescue at the -moment of the dread encounter. She knew Mrs. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>Winthrop as soon as she caught sight of her; -she looked a woman of thirty-five—instead of -forty-five, which she really was—tall and -slender, undoubtedly beautiful, undoubtedly -proud, and yet with a kind of <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">naïve</span></i> sincerity. -They met in the dressing-room by accident, and -the lady, recognizing Sylvia, took her hand and -gazed into her face; and Sylvia gazed back, with -those wide, clear eyes of hers, steadily, unflinching, -without a motion or a sound. At last Mrs. -Winthrop, putting her other hand upon the girl’s, -clasped it and whispered intensely, “We met a -thousand years ago!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia had no information as to any such -event, and she had not expected at all that kind -of welcome. So she continued to gaze—steadily, -steadily. And the spell communicated itself to -Mrs. Winthrop. “I heard that you were lovely,” -she murmured, in a strange, low voice, “but I -really had no idea! Sylvia Castleman, you are -like a snow-storm of pear blossoms! You are a -Corot symphony of spring time!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Now Sylvia had seen some of Corot’s paintings, -but she had not learned to mix the metaphors of -the arts, and so she had no idea what Mrs. Winthrop -meant. She contented herself with saying -something about the pleasure she felt at this -meeting.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But the other was not to be brought down to -mundane speech. “Dryad!” she murmured. -She had a manner and voice all her own, sybilline, -oracular; you felt that she was speaking, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>not to you, but to some disembodied spirit. It -was very disconcerting at first.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You bring back lost youth to the world,” she -said. “I want to talk to you, Sylvia—to find -out more about you. You aren’t vain, I know. -You are proud!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why—I’m not sure,” said Sylvia, at a loss -for a moment.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, don’t be vain!” said the lady. “Remember—I -was like you once.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Which gave Sylvia an opportunity of the sort -she understood. “I will look forward,” she -said, “to the prospect of being like you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The radiant lady pressed her hand. “Very -pretty, my child,” she said. “Quite Southern, -too! But I must take you in and give the others -some of this joy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Such was the beginning of the acquaintance -so utterly different from all possible beginnings, -as Sylvia had imagined them. She found in Edith -Winthrop, whom she met a few minutes later, a -person much nearer to what she had expected in -the mother. Miss Edith had her mother’s beauty -and her mother’s pride, but no trace of her -mother’s sybilline qualities. A badly spoiled -young lady, was Sylvia’s first verdict upon this -New England <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">belle</span></i>; a verdict which she delivered -promptly to her infatuated cousin, and which -she never found occasion to revise.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The friendship thus begun progressed rapidly. -Mrs. Winthrop asked if she might call, and coming -the next day, discovered in Aunt Varina the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>perfect type of the Southern gentlewoman. So -the three were soon absorbed in talking genealogy. -At Miss Abercrombie’s Sylvia had been surprised -to learn that it was bad form to talk about one’s -ancestors; but apparently it was still permissible -in Boston—as it assuredly was in the South.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Winthrop invited Sylvia to a party she -was giving; and when Sylvia spoke of having to -leave Boston, “Oh, stay,” said the great lady. -“Come and stay with me—always!” Finally -Sylvia said that she would come to the party.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll invite your cousin for the extra man,” -said the other. “It is to be a new kind of party—you -know how desperately one has to struggle -to keep one’s guests from being bored. I got -this idea from a Southern man, so perhaps it’s -an old story to you—a ‘Progressive Love’ party?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, yes, we often have them,” replied Sylvia. -She had not supposed that these intellectual -people would condescend to such play—having -pictured Boston society as occupied in translating -Meredith and Henry James.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“People have to be amused the world over,” -said Mrs. Winthrop. And when Sylvia looked -surprised to have her thought read, the other -gave her a long look, and smiled a deep smile. -“Sylvia,” she propounded, “you and I understand -each other. We are made of exactly the -same material.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 9</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>There followed after this meeting a trying time -for the girl. She went to a theatre in the evening, -and when she came back to the hotel she found -her aunt suffering acutely, with symptoms of -appendicitis. Although there was a doctor and -a nurse, she spent the entire night and half the -next day by her aunt’s bedside. Sylvia’s love -for her family appeared at a time like this a sort -of frenzy; she would have died a thousand deaths -to save them from suffering, and there was no -getting her to spare herself in any way.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Her sympathy for Aunt Varina was the greater, -because this poor little lady was so patient and -unselfish. Whenever there was anything the -matter with her, she would make no trouble for -anyone, but crawl away and endure by herself. -She was one of those devoted souls, of which -there is one to be found in every big family, -who do not have a life of their own, but are -ground up daily, as it were, to make oil to keep -the great machine running smoothly. Sylvia, -who had in herself the making of such a family -lubricant, was irresistibly drawn to this gentle -soul in distress.</p> - -<p class='c011'>All night she helped the nurse with hot -“stoups;” and even when the danger was passed -she could not be persuaded to rest, but sat by -the bedside, applying various kinds of smelling -salts and lavender water, trying to be so cheerful -that the patient would forget her pain. She -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>smoothed the white forehead, noticing as she -did so how thin the gray hairs were getting. -She could look back to childhood days, when -Aunt Varina had been bright and young-looking—there -were even pictures of her as a girlish -beauty; but now her neck was scrawny and her -cheeks were wan, and most of her hair lay upon -her dressing-table.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The day passed, and then Sylvia was reminded -that she had promised to go to a college entertainment -with Harley. She ought to have gone -to bed, but she did not like to disappoint her -cousin, so she drank a cup or two of strong coffee, -and was ready for anything that might come -along.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I used to say that I never knew a person who -could <em>disappear</em> so rapidly as Sylvia; who could -literally eat up the flesh off her bones by nervous -excitement. After a night and a day like this -she was another woman—that strange arresting -creature who made men start when they saw her, -and set poets to dreaming about angels and stars. -She wore a soft white muslin dress and a hat -with a white plume in it—not intending to be -ethereal, but because an instinct always guided -her hand towards the color that was right.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The entertainment being not very interesting, -and the hall being close, after an hour or so she -asked her cousin to take her out. It was a perfect -night, and she drank in the soft breeze and -strolled along, happy to watch the lights through -the trees and to hear singing in the distance. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>But suddenly she discovered that she had lost -a medallion which she had worn about her neck. -“We must find it!” she exclaimed. “It’s the one -with the picture of Aunt Lady!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Are you sure you had it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I remember perfectly having it in the hall. -We’ll find it if we’re quick. Hurry! I can’t, -with these heels on my shoes.” So Harley started -back, and Sylvia began to walk slowly, looking -on the sidewalk.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Five or ten minutes passed thus; when, hearing -steps behind her, she glanced up, and saw a man -attired in evening dress. There was a light near -by, shining into her face, and she saw that he -looked at her; also, with her woman’s intuition, -she realized that he had been startled.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He stopped. “Have you lost something?” he -asked, hesitatingly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Could I be of any help?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Thank you,” said Sylvia. “My cousin has -gone back to look. He will be here soon.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>That was all. Sylvia resumed her search. -But the man’s way was the same as hers, and -he did not go as fast as before. She was really -worried about her loss, and barely thought of -him. His voice was that of a gentleman, so his -nearness did not disturb her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Was it something valuable?” he asked, at -last.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was a medallion with a picture that I -prize.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>She stopped at a corner, uncertain of the street -by which she and Harley had come. He stopped -also. “I would be very glad to help,” he said, -“if you would permit me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Thank you,” she said, “but I really think -that my cousin will find it. We had not come -far.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Again there was a pause. As she went on, -he was near her, looking diligently. After a -while she began to find the silence awkward, but -she did not like to send him away, and she did -not like to speak again. So it was with real -relief that, looking down the street, she saw -Harley coming. “There’s my cousin!” she said. -“Oh, I <em>do</em> hope he’s found it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He doesn’t act as if he had,” remarked the -other; and Sylvia’s heart sank, for she saw that -Harley walked slowly, and with his eyes on the -ground.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When he was near enough she asked, “You -haven’t found it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” he answered. “It’s gone, I fear.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, too bad! too bad! What can we do?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Harley had come near. Sylvia saw that he -looked at the man she was with, but there was -no recognition between them. Evidently they -did not know each other. Then, without offering -to stop, Harley passed them, saying, “I’ll look -back this way.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t think that’s worth while,” said the -girl. “I’ve searched carefully there.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’d better look,” replied the other, who had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>quickened his pace and was already some distance -off.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But wait, Harley!” she called. She wanted -to explain to him how thoroughly she had searched; -and, more important yet, she wanted to get -decently rid of the stranger.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Harley went on, paying no attention to -her. She called him again, with some annoyance, -but he did not stop, and in a moment more had -turned a corner. She was perplexed and angered -by his conduct—more and more so as she thought -of it. How preposterous for him to brush past -in that fashion, and leave her with a man she -did not know! “What in the world can he -mean?” she exclaimed. “There’s no need to -search back there any more!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She stood, staring into the half-darkness. -When after a moment he did not reappear, she -repeated, helplessly, “What did he mean? -What did he mean?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She looked at her companion, and saw an amused -smile upon his face. Her eyes questioned him, -and he said, “I suspect he saw you were with -<em>me</em>.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>For a moment Sylvia continued to stare at -him. Then, realizing that here was a serious -matter, she looked down at the ground—something -which the search for the medallion gave -her the pretext for doing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He saw you were with <em>me</em>.” The more she -pondered the words, the more incredible they -seemed to her. Taken as they had come, with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>the tone and the accent and the smile, there was -only one thing they could mean. A week ago -Sylvia would have been incapable of comprehending -that meaning; but now she had seen so -much of social climbing that she had developed -a new sensitiveness. She understood—and yet she -could not believe that she understood. This man -did not know Harley, but Harley knew him, and -knew him to be somebody of importance—of such -importance that he had deliberately gone on and -left her standing there, so that she might pick -up an acquaintance with him on the street! And -the man had watched the little comedy, and -knowing his own importance, was chuckling with -amusement.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As the realization of this forced itself upon -Sylvia, the blood mounted to the very roots of -her hair. She was seized by a perfect fury of -shame and indignation; it was all that she could -do to keep from turning upon the man and telling -him what a cad and a puppy she thought him. -But then came a second thought—wasn’t it true, -what he believed? What other explanation could -there be of Harley’s conduct? It was her cousin -who was the puppy and the cad; she wanted to -run after him and tell him in the man’s hearing. -But then again her anger turned upon the -stranger. If he had been a gentleman, would -he ever have let her know what he thought? -Would he have stood there now, grinning like a -pot-boy?</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia finished her meditations, and lifted her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>eyes from the ground. She was clear as to what -she would do—she would punish this man, as -never in her life had she punished a man before. -She would punish him, even though to do it she -had to walk on the proprieties with the sharp -heels of her white suede slippers.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I beg your pardon,” she said, gently. “I -hope I don’t presume——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it?” he asked, and she looked him -over. He was a tall man, with a pale, lean face, -prominent features, and a large mouth which -drooped at the corners with heavy lines. He was -evidently a serious person, mature looking for a -student.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Are you by any chance an instructor in the -University?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, no,” he said, surprised.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But then—are you a public official of some -sort?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” he said, still more surprised. “Why -should you think that?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, my cousin seemed to know you, and -yet not to know you. He seemed willing to -leave me with you, so I thought you might be—possibly -a city detective——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She saw him wince, and she feigned quick -embarrassment. “I hope you’ll excuse me!” she -said. “You see, my position is difficult.” Then, -with one of her shining smiles, “Or have I perchance -met Sir Galahad—or some other comforter -of distressed damsels—St. George, or Don -Quixote?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>When an outrage is offered to you by one of -the loveliest beings that you have ever beheld, -with the face of a higher order of angels, and a -look straight into your eyes, so eloquent of -simplicity and trustfulness—what more can you -do than to look uncomfortable?</p> - -<p class='c011'>And Sylvia, of course, did not help him. She -just continued to gaze and smile. He got his -breath and stammered, “Really—I think—if you -will permit me——” He paused, and then drew -himself up. “I think that I had best introduce -myself.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am willing to accept the rebuke,” said -Sylvia, “without putting you to that trouble.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She saw that he did not even understand. He -went on—his manner that of a man laboring -with a very serious purpose. “I really think that -I should introduce myself.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Are we not having a pleasant time without -it?” she countered.</p> - -<p class='c011'>This, of course, was a complete blockade. He -stood at a loss; and meantime Sylvia waited, with -every weapon ready and every sense alert. “I -beg pardon,” he said, at last, “but may I ask -you something? I’ve a feeling as if I had met -you before.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am sure that you have not,” she said, -promptly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are from the South, are you not? I -have been in the South several times.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But still she would not give an inch; and -he became desperate. “Pardon me,” he said, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>“if I tell you my name. I am Douglas van -Tuiver.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Now if there was ever a moment in her life -when Sylvia needed her social training, it was -then. He was looking into her face, watching for -the effect of his announcement. But he never saw -so much as the flicker of an eyelid. Sylvia said, -quietly, “Thank you,” and waited to load her -batteries. She had meant harm to him before. -Imagine what she meant now!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is an unusual name,” she observed, casually. -“German, I presume?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dutch,” said he.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah, Dutch. But then—you speak English -perfectly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My ancestors,” he said, “came to this country -in sixteen hundred and forty.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah!” exclaimed Sylvia. “How curious! Mine -came the same year. Perhaps that was where -we met—in a previous incarnation.” Then, -after a pause, “Van Tuivel, did you say?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She could feel his start, and she waited breathlessly -to see what he would do. But there were -the soft, red-brown eyes and the look of utter -innocence—how <em>could</em> he gaze into them and -doubt? “Van Tuiver,” he said, gravely. “Douglas -van Tuiver.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, I beg your pardon,” Sylvia responded. -“Van Tuiver. I have it now.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She waited, feeling sure that he could not bear -to leave it there. And so it proved. “The name -is well known in New York,” he remarked.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>“Ah,” she said, “but then—there are so <em>many</em> -people in New York!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Again there was a pause, while he took thought. -Sylvia remarked, helpfully, “In the South, you -see, everybody knows everybody else.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am not at all sure,” said he, stiffly, “that -I should find that a desirable state of affairs.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Neither should I,” said she—“in New York.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Now perhaps you think that this kind of thing -is no particular strain upon the nerves of a young -girl; but Sylvia was seeking a way of escape. -Where was the villain Harley, and how much -longer did he mean to keep her on the rack? -At this moment she saw a taxicab coming down -the street, and she recognized her chance.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please call it!” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Instinctively her companion raised his hand. -Equally instinctive was his exclamation: “Are -you going?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Her answer was her action; as the vehicle -drew up by the curb, she opened the door herself, -and stepped in. “To Boston,” she said; and -the cab moved on. “Good-bye, Mr. van Tuiver,” -she called to her surprised companion. “Good-bye, -until the next incarnation!”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 10</h3> - -<p class='c010'>News spread rapidly in Cambridge, Sylvia -found. The next afternoon she received a call -from Mr. “Tubby” Bates, and one glimpse of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>his features told her that he was moved by some -compelling impulse.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“May I sit down, Miss Castleman?” he asked. -“I’ve something to ask you about. But I’m not -sure, Miss Castleman—that is—whether I’ve a -right to talk about it. You may think that I’m -gossiping——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, but I adore gossiping,” put in the girl; -whereat the other stopped stammering and beamed -with relief. He was more like a Southern man -than anyone Sylvia had met here; she knew just -how to deal with him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Thank you ever so much!” he exclaimed. -“It’s really very good of you.” He drew his -chair an inch or two nearer, and in a confidential -voice began, “It’s about Douglas van Tuiver.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I supposed so,” said Sylvia, with a smile.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, then something <em>did</em> happen!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Now, Mr. Bates,” she laughed, “tell your -story.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This noon,” he said, “van Tuiver called me -on the ’phone—or at least his secretary did—and -asked me if I’d lunch at the club. When we sat -down, there were two other chaps, both wondering -what was up. Pretty soon he got to a subject—” -Bates stopped uneasily. “I’m afraid that -perhaps I won’t express myself in the right way, -Miss Castleman—that I may say something you -don’t like——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Go on,” smiled Sylvia. “I’m possessed by -curiosity.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, it came out that he’d had an adventure. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>He was walking last evening, and he met a lady. -She was tall and rather pale, he said—a Southern -girl. She was dressed in white and had golden -hair. ‘Have any of you met such a girl?’ he -asked. I kept silent and let the rest do the answering. -They hadn’t. ‘It was a lady in distress,’ -van Tuiver went on, ‘and I offered my assistance -and she accepted’——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, I did <em>not</em>!” cried Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oho!” exclaimed Bates, “I knew it! Tell -me, what did you do?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This is your story,” she laughed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, he said it was a novel rôle for him—that -of Sir Galahad, or St. George, or Don Quixote. -He found it embarrassing. I said, ‘Was it the -novelty of the rôle—or perhaps the novelty of -the lady?’ ‘Well,’ said van Tuiver, ‘that’s just -it. She was one of the most bewildering people -I ever met. She talked’—you won’t mind my -telling this, Miss Castleman?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not a bit—go on.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Some of it isn’t very complimentary——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m wild with suspense, Mr. Bates!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“‘Well,’ he said, ‘she looked like a lady, but -she talked like an actress in a comedy. I never -heard anybody rattle so—I never knew a girl -so pert. She talked just—<em>amazingly</em>.’ That -was his word. I asked him just what he meant, -but that was all I could get him to say. Finally -he asked, ‘Do you know the lady?’ and of course -I had to answer that I thought I did; I could -be sure if he’d give me a sample of her conversation. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>‘She has a cousin named Harley,’ he said, -and I said, ‘Yes—he’s Chilton, a Freshman. Her -name is Miss Castleman.’ Then he wanted to -know all about you. I said, ‘I met her at a tea -at Thurlow’s, and about all I know of her is that -she talks amazingly.’ I thought that was paying -him back.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And then?” laughed Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, he wanted to know what I thought of -you; and I said I thought you were the loveliest, -and the cleverest, and the sweetest person that -I’d ever met in my life. I really think that, you -know. And then van Tuiver said—” But here -Bates stopped himself suddenly. “That’s all,” -he said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, surely not, Mr. Bates!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But really it is. You see, we were interrupted——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But not until Mr. van Tuiver had said that -he thought I was horrid, and he thought I was -shallow, and he thought I was vain.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other flushed slightly. Sylvia went on, -“I don’t mind it, because the truth is, I’d been -thinking it myself. You see, I really <em>was</em> mean -to him, Mr. Bates. I said things to hurt him, -without his knowing I meant them; but after -he went off, he must have understood. Why -should we want to hurt people?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know,” said Tubby, bewildered by -this unexpected new turn. He wanted Sylvia -to tell him the story of what had happened that -evening; but she refused. Then he went on to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>a new proposition—he wished to bring van Tuiver -to call. But she refused again and begged him -not to think about the matter any further. He -pleaded with her, in semi-comic distress; he was -so anxious to see what would happen—everyone -was anxious to see what would happen! He -implored her, in the name of good society; it -was cruel, wicked of her to refuse! But Sylvia -was obdurate, and in the end he took his departure -lamenting, but vowing that he would not give up.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Just as he was leaving, Harley arrived. He -came to get his scolding for his conduct of the -previous night. But the scolding was more -serious than he had expected. To his dismay -Sylvia declared that she was sincere in her refusal -to meet van Tuiver again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The truth is,” she said, “I’ve changed my -mind about the whole matter. I don’t care to -have anything to do with the man.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But why not?” asked Harley, in amazement.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Because—I don’t think that poor people like -us have any right to. We can’t meet him and -keep our self-respect.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Great God, girl! Aren’t we van Tuiver’s -social equals.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We think we are, but he doesn’t; and his view -prevails. When you came up here and fell in -love with a girl in his set, you found that his -view prevailed. And look what you did last -night! Don’t you see the degradation—simply -to be near such a man?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s all very well,” objected Harley, “but -can I keep van Tuiver from coming to Harvard?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>“No, you can’t; but you can help to keep him -from having his way after he has got here. You -can stand out against him and all that he represents.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause. Harley had nothing to -say to that. Sylvia stood with her brows knitted -in thought. “I’ve made up my mind,” she said, -“there’s something very wrong about it all. The -man has too much money. He has no right to -have so much—certainly not unless he’s earned -it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Whereat her cousin exclaimed, “For God’s -sake, Sylvia, you talk like an Anarchist!”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 11</h3> - -<p class='c010'>A couple of days later came Mrs. Winthrop’s -“Progressive Love” party. At this party there -were twenty-four guests, twelve men and twelve -women, appearing in purple silk dominoes and -golden silk masks supplied by the hostess. Twelve -short dances were followed by intermissions, -during which the guests retired to cosy corners, -and the men made ardent love to their unknown -partners. “Tubby” Bates, of whom there was -too much to be concealed by any domino, was -appointed door-keeper, and it was his business -to select the couples, so that each would have -a new partner for every dance. At the end, -every person voted for the most successful “lover” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>and also the worst, and there were prizes and -“booby” prizes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Love-making, more or less disguised, being the -principal occupation of men and women in the -South, Sylvia counted herself an expert at this -game. She had learned to assume a different -personality, disguising her voice, and doing it -quite naturally—not by the crude method of -putting a button under her tongue. She took -her seat after the first dance, perfectly mistress -of herself and pleasantly thrilled with curiosity. -All of the “younger set” at home had made love -to her in earnest, and their methods were an oft-told -tale. But how would these strange men of -Harvard play the game?</p> - -<p class='c011'>The tall domino at her side was in no hurry -to begin. He sat very stiff and straight upon the -velvet cushions; and finally it came to Sylvia -that he was suffering from embarrassment. She -leaned towards him, so as to display “a more -coming-on disposition.” “Sir,” she whispered, -“faint heart ne’er won fair lady.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The tall domino considered this in silence. -“You’ll have to excuse me,” he said, “I never -played this game before.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is the most wonderful game in the world!” -said Sylvia, fervently.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps,” was the reply. “To me it seems -a very foolish game, and I think it was poor -taste on Mrs. Winthrop’s part.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dear me!” thought the girl, “what kind of -a fish have I caught here?” There was something -<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>strangely familiar about the voice, but she -could not place it. She had met so many men -in the last week or two.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sir,” she said, “I fear me that you lack a -little of that holiday glee which is necessary to -such occasion as this. I would that I could sing -a song to cheer your moping spirit—”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Nymphs and shepherds come away,</div> - <div class='line'>For this is Flora’s holiday!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Then, leaning a little nearer yet, “Come, sir, you -must make an effort.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What shall I do?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You must manage to throw yourself into a -state of rapture. You must tell me that you -adore me. You must say that my blue eyes -make dim the vault of heaven——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But I can hardly see your eyes.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You should not expect to see them. Have -you not been told that Love is blind?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So she tried to drive this tall domino to play; -but it was sorry frisking that he did. “You -must fall down upon your knees before me,” she -said; but he protested that he could really not -do that. And when she insisted, “You must!” -he got down, with such deliberation that the girl -was half convulsed with laughter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sir,” she chided, “that will not do. When -you stop to ease each trouser-knee, how can I -believe that you are overcome with the ardor -of your feelings? You must get up and try -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>again.” And actually she made him get up and -plump down suddenly upon his knees; and was -so mischievous and so merry about it that she -got even him to laughing in the end.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was sure by this time that she had met -the man before, and she found herself running -over the list of her acquaintances, trying to -imagine which one could be capable of making -love in such a fashion. But she could not think -of one. She fell to studying the domino and -the mask before her, wondering what feelings -could be behind them. Was it timidity and -lack of imagination? Or could it be that the -man was sulky and uncivil as he seemed? When -the bell rang and she rose, she breathed to herself -the prayer that she might be spared running into -another “stick” like that.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The next partner was Harmon, as she recognized -before he had said a dozen sentences. -Harmon did not know her, but being in love, he -knew how to behave. He poured out to Sylvia -all the things which she had known for the past -week he was longing to say to her; and Sylvia -said in reply everything which she had no intention -of saying in reality. So the episode passed -pleasantly, and the girl thought somewhat better -of Mrs. Winthrop’s talents as a hostess.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Number Three was again a tall domino. He -seated himself, and there was a long pause. -“Well, sir,” said Sylvia, inquiringly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The domino delayed again. “You’ll have to -excuse me,” he said, at last; “I never played -this game before.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>And Sylvia realized in a flash of dismay that -it was the first man again! The same voice—even -the same words! “Sir,” she said, coldly, -“you are mistaken. You played the same game -with me not twenty minutes ago.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The tall domino expressed bewilderment. “I beg -your pardon—there has been some mistake.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There has indeed,” said Sylvia. “The door-keeper -has evidently got our numbers mixed.” -She pondered for a moment. Should she go and -tell Mr. Bates?</p> - -<p class='c011'>But she realized that it was too late. The -couples were all settled and the game proceeding. -It was the kind of blunder that was always being -made at these parties—either because the door-keeper -was stupid, or was bribed by some man -who wanted to make love in earnest. It spoiled -the game—but then, as Sylvia had just said, Love -is blind.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What shall we do—wait?” she asked; to which -the man replied, “I don’t mind.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Thank you,” she said, graciously. “We’ll -have to make the best of it. Don’t you think -you can manage to do a little better than the last -time?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll try,” he replied. “It’s beastly stupid, I -think.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia considered. “No,” she declared, “I -believe it’s the game of all games for you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How so?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Go down into the deeps of you. Haven’t -you something there that is real—something -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>primitive and untamed, that chafes against -propriety, and wishes it had not been born in -Boston?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I was not born in Boston,” said he.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps not in your body,” said Sylvia, “but -your soul is a Boston soul. And now think of -this opportunity to fling loose, to be just as bad -as you want to be—and quite without danger -of detection, of having your reputation damaged! -Surely, sir, there could be no game more adapted -to the New England conscience!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“By Jove!” exclaimed the man; and actually -there was warmth in his tone. Sylvia’s heart -leaped, and she caught him by the hand. “Quick! -Quick!” she cried. “Gather ye rosebuds while -ye may—old time is still a-flying!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“By Jove!” exclaimed the man again; and -Sylvia, kindling with mischief, pressed his hand -more tightly and brought him upon his knees -before her. “Make haste! You have but one -life—one chance to be yourself—to vent your -emotions! I’ve no idea who you are, I can’t -possibly tell on you—and so you may utter those -things which you keep hidden even from yourself!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“By Jove!” he exclaimed for the third time. -“Really, if I had you to make love to——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But you have me! You have me! For -several precious minutes—alone and undisturbed! -You are not a Boston Brahmin in a domino—you -are a faun in the forests of Arcady. Come, -Mr. Faun!” And Sylvia began to sing in a low, -caressing manner:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>“Oh, come, my love, to Arcady!</div> - <div class='line in2'>A dream path leads us, dear.</div> - <div class='line'>One hour of love in Arcady</div> - <div class='line in2'>Is worth a lifetime here!”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause. She could feel the man’s -hand trembling. “I am waiting!” she whispered; -to which he answered, “I wish <em>you</em> would talk! -You make love so much better than I!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia broke into one of her merry laughs. -“A leap-year party!” she cried.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But the other was in earnest. “I like to listen -to you,” he said. “Please go on!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was laughing so that she felt tears in -her eyes, and she wanted to wipe them away -under her mask. Her handkerchief was gone, -and she looked for it—in her lap, beside her on -the seat, and then on the floor. This led to a -curious and unexpected turn in the adventure—her -recognition of this New England faun. Seeing -what she was doing, he said, “I beg pardon. -Have you lost something?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was like an explosion in Sylvia’s mind. Not -merely the same words—but the same manner, -the same accent, the same personality!</p> - -<p class='c011'>The search for the handkerchief gave her the -chance to recover her breath. The Lord had -delivered him into her hands again!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sir,” she said. “I resume. You have overwhelmed -me with the torrent of your ardor. I -feel myself swept away in a flood which my feeble -will cannot resist. You come to me like a royal -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>wooer—like some god out of the skies, stunning -the senses of a mere mortal maiden! Who can -this be—I ask myself. From what source can -such superhuman eloquence and fervor spring? -Can I endure it? I cry—or shall I be burned up -and destroyed, like Danaï in the legend? It is -just so that he descends upon me—like Jupiter, -in a shower of gold!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia could feel the tall domino stiffen and -rear himself. She had meant to go on, but she -stopped, so great was her curiosity. How would -he take it?</p> - -<p class='c011'>At last came the voice from under the mask. -“I see,” it said, “that you have the advantage -of me. You <em>do</em> know who I am.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was almost transported—by a combination -of amazement and amusement. “Know who -you are?” she cried. “How could I fail to -know who you are? You, my divinity! You, -to whom all the world bends the knee! Sire, -receive my homage—I bow in adoration before -the Golden Calf!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And she sunk down upon one knee before the -tall domino!</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was putting herself into his hands. She was -fully prepared to see him rise and stalk away—but -so possessed was she that she would have -enjoyed even that! Fortunately, however, at -this moment the bell rang, saving her. She -sprang to her feet, and caught the hand of her -divinity in one quick clasp of parting. “Good-bye, -Mr. van Tuiver!” she exclaimed. “Good-bye—until -the next incarnation!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 12</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>For the next dance Sylvia’s partner was a youth -whom she could not identify. He had evidently -been reading the poets, for his declarations of -devotion were lacking in naught but rhyme. -Sylvia accepted him politely, hardly hearing his -words—so busy was she with the thought of van -Tuiver. Had it been accident, or a trick? She -would soon know.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There came another dance—and again a tall -domino. Sylvia suspected, but was not sure, -until they were in their seats, when the domino -sat stiff and straight, and she was certain. “Is -that you?” she asked; and the answer came, -“It is.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is evident that some one is amusing himself -at our expense,” said Sylvia, coldly. “I really -think we shall have to stop it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Castleman,” broke in the other. “I -hope you will believe me that I have had absolutely -nothing to do with this.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She answered, consolingly, “I assure you, Mr. -van Tuiver, your unpreparedness has been quite -evident.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause, while he considered that. -“What shall we do?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I think that you had best see Mr. Bates, and -make clear to him that we have had enough.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He hesitated. “Is—is that really necessary?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What else can we do—spend the evening -together?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I really wish we could, Miss Castleman!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>“What—and you making love as you have -been?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can do better now. I really am quite -charmed with the game. I’d like to make love -to you—for a long time.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Most flattering, Mr. van Tuiver—but how -about me? We’ve conversed a lot already, and -you haven’t said one interesting thing.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Castleman!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not one—excepting one or two that have -been insolent.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause. “Really,” he pleaded, -“that is a hard thing to say!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you mean,” she inquired, coldly, “that -you have not realized the meaning of what you -said to me when we met on the street?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know just what you refer to,” he -replied, “but you must admit that you had me -at a great disadvantage that evening.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What disadvantage, Mr. van Tuiver? The -fact that I did not know who you were?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She could feel him wince. She was prepared -for a retort—but not so severe as the one which -came. “The disadvantage,” he said, “that you -<em>pretended</em> not to know who I was.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why,” she exclaimed, “what do you mean?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He answered. “If we are going to fight, it -ought to be upon a fair field. You pretended -that evening that you had never heard my name. -But I learned since that only a day or two before -you had had a quite elaborate conversation about -me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia’s first impulse was to inquire sarcastically -<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>what right he had to assume that his illustrious -name would stay in her memory. But she -realized that that was a poor retort; and then her -sense of fair play came in. After all, he was -right—the joke was on her, and she rather admired -his nerve.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So she began to laugh. “Mr. van Tuiver,” -she said, “you have annoyed me so that I won’t -even take the trouble to think up new lies to tell -you. Realize, if you can, the impression you -managed to make upon a young girl—you and -your reputation together—that she should be -moved to use such weapons against you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He forgot his anger at this. “That’s just it, -Miss Castleman! I don’t understand it at all! -What have I done that you should take such an -attitude towards me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia pondered. “I fear,” she said, “that -you would not thank me for telling you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are mistaken!” he exclaimed. “I really -would like to know.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I could not bring myself to do it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But why not?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know it could not do any good.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But how can you say that—when I assure -you I am in earnest? I have a very sincere -admiration for you—truly. You are one of the -most—one of the most amazing young women -I ever met. I don’t say that in a bad sense, you -understand——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I understand,” said Sylvia, smiling. “I have -tried my best to be amazing.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>“It is evident that you dislike me intensely,” -he went on. “I ask you to tell me why. What -have I done?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It isn’t so much what you have done—it is -what you <em>are</em>.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And what <em>am</em> I, Miss Castleman?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know just how to put it into words. -You are some sort of monstrosity; something -that when I see it, fills me with a blind rage, so -that I want to fly at its throat. And then I -realize that even in attacking it I am putting -myself upon a level with it—and so I want to -turn and flee for my life—or rather for my self-respect. -I want to flee from it, Mr. van Tuiver, -and never see it, never hear its voice, never even -know of its existence! Do you see?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I see,” said the man, in a voice so faint as -to be hardly audible; and then suddenly came -the sound of the bell, and Sylvia sprang up.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I flee!” she said.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 13</h3> - -<p class='c010'>There came a new dance, the sixth, and a new -partner, who was short, and was speedily discovered -to be Jackson. Then came the seventh -dance, and Sylvia expected that it would be her -Faun again, but was disappointed. It was a man -unknown, and she wondered if Bates had lost his -nerve. But with Number Eight came the inevitable -return.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>Van Tuiver was so anxious this time that he -asked before he began to dance, “Is that you?” -And when Sylvia answered “Yes,” she could -hear his sigh of relief. All through the dance -she could feel his excitement. Once or twice he -tried to talk, but she whispered to him to keep -the rules.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The moment they were seated he said, “Miss -Castleman, you must explain to me what you -mean.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I knew I’d have to explain,” she responded. -“I’ve been thinking how I could make you -understand. You see, I’m a comparative stranger -to this world of yours, and things might shock -me which would seem to you quite a matter of -course. I suppose I’m what you’d call a country -girl, and have a provincial outlook.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please go on,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, Mr. van Tuiver, you have an enormous -amount of money. Twenty or thirty million -dollars—forty or fifty million dollars—the authorities -don’t seem to agree about it. As well as I -can put the matter, you have so much that it has -displaced <em>you</em>; it isn’t you who think, it isn’t -you who speak—it’s your money. You seem to -be a sort of quivering, uneasy consciousness of -uncounted millions of dollars; and the only thing -that comes back to you from your surroundings -is an echo of that quivering consciousness.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do I really seem like that to you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s the impression you’ve made upon everyone -who knows you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>“Oh, surely not!” he cried.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Quite literally that,” said Sylvia. “I hated -you before I ever laid eyes on you—because of -the way you’d impressed your friends.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause; when van Tuiver spoke -again it was in a low and uncertain voice. “Miss -Castleman,” he said, “has it ever occurred to -you to think what might be the difficulties of my -situation?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, I haven’t had time for that.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, take this one fact. You say that I -have made a certain impression upon everyone -who knows me. But you are the first person in -my whole lifetime who’s ever told me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia gave an exclamation of incredulity.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t you see?” pressed on the other, eagerly. -“What is a man to do? I have a great deal of -money. I can’t help that. And I can’t help the -fact that it gives me a great deal of power. I -can’t help having a sense of responsibility.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The sense of responsibility has been too much -for you,” said Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was too subtle for him. He hurried on: -“Maybe it’s right, maybe it’s wrong—but circumstances -have given me a certain position, and -I have to maintain it. I have certain duties which -I must fulfill, which I can’t possibly get away -from.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause. He seemed to feel that -the situation was not satisfactory, and started -again. “It’s all very well for you, who don’t realize -my position, the responsibilities I have—it’s all -<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>very well for you to talk about my consciousness -of money. But how can I get away from it? -People know about my money, they think about -it—they expect certain things of me. They put -me in a certain position, whether I will or not.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He stopped again. He was so greatly agitated -that Sylvia was beginning to feel pity. “Do you -have to be what people expect you to be?” she -said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But,” he argued, “I have the money, and -I have to make use of it—to invest it—to protect -it——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah, but all that is in the business world. -What I’m talking about is in a separate sphere—your -social relations.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Miss Castleman, that’s just it—<em>is</em> it -separate? It ought to be, you’ll say—but <em>is</em> it? -I tell you, you simply don’t know, that’s all. -People profess friendship for me, but they want -something, and by and by I find out what it is -they want. You say that’s monstrous; I know, -I used to think it was, myself. You say, I ought -not to know it; but I can’t <em>help</em> knowing it; it’s -forced upon me by all the circumstances of my -life. Sometimes I think I’ve never had a disinterested -friend since I was born!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia perceived the intensity behind his words, -and was silent for a minute. “But surely,” she -said, “here—in the democracy of college life——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s exactly the same here as anywhere else. -Here are clubs, social cabals, everybody pushing -and intriguing, exactly as in New York society. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>Take that fact you spoke of—that all the fellows -dislike me, and yet not one of them has dared -to tell me so!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>Dared?</em>” repeated Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, well, perhaps they dared—the point is, -they didn’t. The ones who had to make their -own way were busy making it; and the others, -who had got in of right—well, they believe in -money. They’d all shrug their shoulders and -say, ‘What’s the use of antagonizing such a -man?’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I see,” said Sylvia, fascinated.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Whatever the reason is, they never call me -down—not a man of them. And then, as for the -women——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia had not made any sound, but somehow -he felt her sudden interest. He said, with signs -of agitation, “Please, Miss Castleman, don’t be -offended. You asked me to talk about it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Go on,” she said. “I’m really most curious. -I suppose all the women want to marry you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It isn’t only that. They want anything. -They just want to be seen with me. Of course, -when they start to make love to me—” He -paused.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You stop them, I hope,” said Sylvia, modestly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I do when I know it. But, you see——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He paused again; it was evidently a difficult -topic. “Pray don’t mind,” said Sylvia, laughing. -“They’re subtle creatures, I know. Do many -of them make love to you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know you’re laughing at me, Miss Castleman. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>But believe me, it’s no joke. If you’d -see some of the letters I get!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, they write you love letters?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not only love letters. I don’t mind them—but -the letters from women in distress, the most -terrible stories you can imagine. Once I was -foolish enough—didn’t anybody tell you the scrape -I got into?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s curious—they generally like to tell it. -I was weak enough to let one woman get into -my house in Cambridge. She had a tragedy to -rehearse, and I listened to her, and finally she -wanted ten thousand dollars. I didn’t know if -her story was true, and I said No, and then she -began to scream for help. The servants came -running, and she said—well, you can imagine, -how I’d insulted her, and all that. I told my -man to throw her out, but she said she’d scratch -his eyes out, she’d scream from the window, -she’d stand on the street outside and denounce -me till the police came, she’d give the newspapers -the whole story of the way I’d abused her. -And so finally I had to give her all the money I -happened to have on me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Great Heavens!” exclaimed Sylvia, who had -not thought of anything so serious as that.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You see how it is. For the most part I’ve -escaped that kind of thing, because I was taught. -My Great-uncle Douglas, who died recently—he -was my guardian, and he taught me all about -women when I was very young—not more than -<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>ten. He had charge of my upbringing, and he -wouldn’t allow a woman in my household.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dear me,” said Sylvia, “what a cynic he must -have been!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He died a bachelor,” said the other, “and -left me a great deal of money. So you see—that -is——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He’d <em>had</em> to be a cynic!” laughed the girl. -And van Tuiver laughed with her—more humanly -than she had ever thought possible.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She considered for a moment, and then suddenly -asked, “Mr. van Tuiver, has it never occurred -to you that <em>I</em> might be making love to you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She could not see his face, but she knew that -he was staring at her in dismay. “Oh, surely -not, Miss Castleman!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But how can you be sure?” she asked. -“Where is your training?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Castleman,” he said, “please take me -seriously.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m quite serious. In fact, I think I ought -to tell you, I <em>have</em> been making love to you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Surely not!” he said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I mean it, quite literally. I’ve been doing -it from the first moment I met you—doing it in -spite of all my resolutions to the contrary!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But why?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, because I hated you, and also because -I pitied you. I said, I’ll get him in my power -and punish him—and at the same time teach -him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh!” exclaimed van Tuiver; and she thought -that she detected a note of relief in the word.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>“You are glad I don’t mean to marry you,” -she said; and when he started to protest, she cut -him short with, “You’re not applying the wisdom -of your great-uncle! I say I don’t want to -marry you, but most likely that’s a device to disarm -you, to make you want to marry <em>me</em>.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>In spite of his evident distress, she was incorrigible. -“You ought to be up and away,” she -declared—“scared out of your wits. I tell you -I’m the most dangerous woman you’ve ever met. -And I mean it literally. I’ll wager that if your -great-uncle had ever met my great-aunt, he -would not have died a bachelor! Take my -advice, and fall ill and leave this party at once.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why should I be afraid of you?” he demanded. -“Why shouldn’t I marry you if I want to?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What! a poor girl like me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, I don’t know. I can afford to marry -a poor girl if I feel like it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But—think of the ignominy of being trapped!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He considered this. “I’m not afraid of that -either,” he said. “If you’ve had the wit to do -it—and none of the others had——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh!” she laughed. “Then you’re willing to -be hunted!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Castleman,” he protested, “you are -unkind. I’ve thought seriously. You really are -a most beautiful woman, and at the same time -a most amazingly clever woman. You would -be an ornament in my life—I’d always be proud -of you—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He paused. “Mr. van Tuiver,” she demanded, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>“am I to understand that this is a serious -proposal?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She could feel his quiver of fear. “Why,” he -stammered—“really——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t you see how dangerous it is!” she -exclaimed. “You were almost caught! Make -your escape, Mr. van Tuiver!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And then came the sound of the bell. She -started up. “Go and tell Mr. Bates!” she cried. -“Don’t let him do this again—if you do, you are -lost forever!”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 14</h3> - -<p class='c010'>The next partner was Harley. It was a nuisance -having to entertain your own cousin, but -Sylvia amused herself by keeping Harley from -recognizing her. And in the meantime she was -wondering what her Victim would do next.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She knew his very style of dancing by now, -and needed to make no inquiries of Number Ten. -“You did not take my advice,” she remarked, -when they were seated.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” he said. “On the contrary, I told -Bates to put us together the rest of the time.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, no!” she protested.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I want to talk to you,” he declared. “I <em>must</em> -talk to you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But you had no right! He will tell, and -everybody will be talking about it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t care if they do.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>“But <em>I</em> care, Mr. van Tuiver—you should not -have taken such a liberty.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please, Miss Castleman,” he hurried on, -“please listen to me. I’ve been thinking about -it, and it interests me keenly. I believe that in -you I might really have a friend—if only you -would. A real friend, I mean—who’d tell me the -truth—who’d be absolutely disinterested——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The fun of it was too much for Sylvia. -“Haven’t I explained to you that I mightn’t -be disinterested?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll trust you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Of course,” she went on, gravely. “I might -give you my word of honor that I wouldn’t marry -you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” he agreed, “I suppose so——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The girl was convulsed with laughter. “Mr. -van Tuiver,” she remarked, “I see you are an -earnest man; I really ought to stop teasing you. -Don’t you think I ought?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” he replied, dubiously. “At least—I -never liked to be teased before.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, I will tell you this for your comfort. -There’s no remotest possibility of my ever marrying -you, so you can feel quite safe.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Somehow he did not seem sure whether he was -pleased at this pledge. After a pause he went -on: “What I mean is that I think a man in my -position ought to have somebody to tell him the -truth.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Something like the court-jesters in old days,” -said Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>But he was not interested in mediæval customs. -He was interested in his own need, and she had -to promise that she would admit him to the -arcanum of her friendship, and that she would -always tell him exactly what she thought about -him—his actions, his ideas, even his manners. -In fulfilment of which promise she spent the rest -of that <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">séance</span></i>, and the two that followed, in -listening to him talk about himself and his life.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was really most curious—an inside glimpse -into a kind of life of which one heard, but with -no idea of ever encountering it; just as one read -of train-robbers and safe-blowers, but never -expected to sit and chat with them. Douglas -van Tuiver had achieved notoriety before he had -cut a single tooth; his mother and father having -been killed in a railroad accident when he was -two months old, the courts had appointed trustees -and guardians, and the newspapers had undertaken -a kind of unofficial supervision. The -precious infant had been brought up by a staff -of tutors, with majordomos and lackeys in the -background, and two private detectives and a -great-uncle and Mrs. Harold Cliveden to oversee -the whole. It did not need much questioning -to get the details of this life—the lonely palace -on Fifth Avenue, the monumental “cottage” at -Newport, the “camp” in the Adirondacks, the -yacht in the West Indies; the costly toys, the -“blooded” pets, the gold plate, the tedious, suffocating -solemnity. If Sylvia had been furious -with van Tuiver before, she was ready now to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>go to the opposite extreme and weep over him. -A child brought up wholly by employees, with no -brothers and sisters to kick and scratch him into -decency, no cousins, no playmates even—unless -he was first togged out in an Eton suit and escorted -by a tutor to the birthday party of some other -little togged-out aristocrat!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Yes, assuredly this unhappy man needed someone -to tell him the truth! Sylvia resolved that -she would fill the rôle. She would be quite unmoved -by his Royalty (the word by which she -had come to sum up to herself the whole phenomenon -of van Tuiverness). She would persist in -regarding him as any other human being, saying -to him what she felt like, pretending to him, and -even to herself, that he really was not Royalty at -all!</p> - -<p class='c011'>But alas, she soon found what a task she had -undertaken! The last dance had been danced, -and amid much merriment the guests unmasked—and -still van Tuiver wanted to stay and talk -to his one friend. He escorted her to supper, -in spite of the fact that Mrs. Winthrop had other -arrangements for him. And even if he had -behaved himself, there was the tale which -“Tubby” Bates had been diligently spreading. -The girl realized all at once that she had achieved -a new and startling kind of prominence; all the -guests, men and women, were watching her, -whispering about her, envying her. She felt a -wicked thrill of triumph and pleasure. She, -a stranger, an obscure girl from the provinces, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>who would ordinarily have been an object of -suspicion and investigation—she had leaped at -one moment into supremacy! She had become -the favorite of the King!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pretty soon came Harley, a-tremble with -delight. “Gee whiz, old girl, you sure have -scored to-night! For God’s sake, how did you -manage it?” Sylvia felt herself hot with sudden -shame.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And then came Bates. She tried to scold him, -but he would simply not have it. “Now, Miss -Castleman! Now, Miss Castleman!”—that was -all he would say. What it meant was: “It is -all right for you to pretend, of course; but you -can’t persuade me that you are really angry!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please go away,” she said at last; but he -wanted to tell her what different people said, and -would not be shaken off. While he was still -teasing, there swept past them a girl to whom -Sylvia had not been introduced—a solid-looking -young Amazon with a freckled snub nose. She -gave Sylvia what appeared to be a haughty look, -and Bates whispered, “Do you know who that -is? That’s Dorothy Cortlandt!—the girl van -Tuiver is to marry.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Really!” exclaimed Sylvia, who was cross -with all the world. “How did her nose get -broken?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And the other answered with a grin, “You -ought to know—you did it!” And so, as -Sylvia could not help laughing, Bates counted -himself forgiven.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>A little later came the encounter with Edith -Winthrop. It was after supper, and the two -found themselves face to face. “What a charming -party it has been!” said Sylvia, and the other -gave her what was meant to be a freezing stare. -It was so rude that Sylvia thought she must -have been misunderstood. “The party’s been a -success,” she ventured. “Don’t you think so?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ideas of success differ,” remarked the other, -coldly, and turned her back and began an animated -conversation with someone else.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dear me,” thought Sylvia, as she moved on, -“What have I done?” She saw in another part -of the room her hostess talking to van Tuiver, -and made up her mind at once that she would -find out if the beautiful soul-friendship was shattered -also. She moved over towards the two, -resisting an effort on the part of Harmon to draw -her into a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tête-à-tête</span></i>.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mrs. Winthrop,” she said, “I’m so glad I -stayed over.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Queen Isabella” turned the mystical eyes upon -her, one of the deep, inscrutable gazes. Sylvia -waited, knowing that it might mean anything -from reverie to murder. “My dear Sylvia,” she -said at last, “you are pale to-night.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This, in the presence of van Tuiver, probably -meant war. “Am I?” asked the girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, my dear, don’t dissipate too much! -Women of your type fade quickly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What?” laughed the other, gaily. “With -my red eyes and red hair? A century could not -extinguish me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>She passed on, and discovered that van Tuiver -was following her. “You aren’t going, are you, -Miss Castleman?” he asked; and while he was -begging her to stay, Sylvia saw her hostess move -across the room to Dorothy Cortlandt. These -two stood conversing earnestly, and one glance -was enough to tell Sylvia what they were conversing -about.</p> - -<p class='c011'>All this was a sore temptation, but Sylvia was -in a virtuous mood. “Mr. van Tuiver,” she said, -“there is something I want to say to you. I’ve -thought it over, and made up my mind that it -is impossible for me to be the friend you want.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, Miss Castleman!” he exclaimed, in -distress. “What is the matter?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can’t explain——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But what have I <em>done</em>?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s nothing that you’ve done. It’s simply -that I couldn’t stand the world you live in. Oh, -I’d be a dreadful woman if I stayed very long!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please, listen—” he implored.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But she cut him short. “I am sorry to give -you pain, but I have made up my mind absolutely. -There is no possible way I can help you. -I am not willing to see you again, and you must -positively not ask it.” After which speech she -went to look for her cousin, leaving van Tuiver -such a picture of agitation that everyone in the -room observed it. Could the King’s nose be -broken too?</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 15</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The next morning came a note from van Tuiver. -He was sure that Miss Castleman must have -reconsidered her cruel decision, and he begged -her to grant him one brief interview. Might -he take her riding in his car that morning? The -bearer would wait for an answer. Sylvia replied -that her decision was unchanged and unchangeable—she -was sorry to hurt his feelings, but she -must ask him to give up all thought of her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A couple of hours later came van Tuiver himself, -and sent up his card and with a line scribbled -on it, “What have I done to anger you?” She -wrote back, “I am not angry, but I cannot see -you.” After which an hour more elapsed and -there came a telephone-call from “Tubby” Bates, -who begged the honor of a few minutes talk.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I ought to refuse to speak to you again,” -said Sylvia. But in the end she gave way and -told him he might call.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He had come as an emissary, of course. The -young millionaire was in a dreadful state, he -explained, being convinced that he had committed -some unmentionable offence.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t care to talk about the matter,” said -Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But,” persisted Bates, “he declares that I -got him into the predicament, and now I’m -honor-bound to get him out.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So she had to set to work to explain her point -of view. Mr. Bates, who himself owed no particular -<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>allegiance to Royalty, should be able to -understand; he must realize that her annoyance -was not personal, but was, so to speak, an affair -of State. This had been her first experience at -Court, she said; and the atmosphere had proven -bad for her—had made her pale, and would soon -turn her into a faded old woman.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Evidently “Tubby” had heard that part of -the story also; first he grinned, and then in his -rôle of diplomat set to work to smooth away -her objections. “You surely don’t mind a little -thing like that,” he pleaded. “Haven’t you any -jealous ladies down South?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If we are going to discuss this question, Mr. -Bates, I must speak frankly. Our hostesses are -polite to their guests.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other began suddenly to laugh. “Even -when the guests steal?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“When they steal?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Jewels!” exclaimed the other. “Bright, particular, -conspicuous jewels—crown-jewels, precious -beyond replacing! Think, Miss Castleman, -you trust a guest, you admit him to your castle—and -suddenly you find that the great ruby of -your diadem is gone!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is it that Mrs. Winthrop hopes to marry van -Tuiver to her daughter?” asked Sylvia, crossly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, no,” said Bates. “He is to marry Dorothy -Cortlandt—that was arranged when they were -babies, and Mrs. Winthrop wouldn’t dream of -cutting in on it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But then, if I haven’t robbed Edith——”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>“My dear Miss Castleman,” said the other, -“you’ve robbed Mrs. Winthrop herself.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But I don’t understand,” said the girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please don’t <em>mis</em>understand,” said Bates. -“It’s all perfectly proper and noble, you know—and -all that. I’ve nothing to say against Mrs. -Winthrop—she’s a charming woman, and has a -right to be admired by everybody. But being -a queen, you see, she has to have a court, with -a lot of distinguished courtiers. She reads poetry -to them, and they write it to her, and they sit -at her feet and dream wonderful dreams, and she -gazes at them. I know a dozen fellows who’ve -been that way all through college; and I suppose -it does them good—they tell me I haven’t any -soul and can’t understand these things. What -I’ve always said is, ‘Maybe you’re right, and -maybe I’m a brute, but it looks to me like the -same old game.’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The same old game,” repeated Sylvia, wonderingly. -She found herself thinking suddenly -of one of the maxims of Lady Dee—one which -she had been too young to understand, but had -been made to learn nevertheless: “The young -girl’s deadliest enemy is the married flirt!” -Could it be that Mrs. Winthrop was anything -so desperate as that?</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mr. van Tuiver is one of these poets?” she -asked, finally.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t think van Tuiver goes in for poetry; -but he’s strong on manners and things like that, -and he says that Mrs. Winthrop is the only hostess -<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>in America who has the old-world charm. Of -course that ravished her, and they’ve been great -chums.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And I came and spoiled it all!” exclaimed the -girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You came and spoiled it all!” said Bates.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia sat for a while in thought. “You know, -Mr. Bates,” she remarked, “it rather puzzles -me that people consider Mr. van Tuiver as having -distinguished manners. I really haven’t been -impressed that way.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other laughed. “My dear Miss Castleman, -don’t you know that van Tuiver’s in love -with you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No! Surely not!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perfectly head over heels in love with you. -He’s been that way since the first moment he -laid eyes on you. And the way you’ve treated -him—you know you are rather high-handed. -Anyhow, it’s rattled him so, he simply doesn’t -know whether he’s on his head or his feet.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Did he tell you that, Mr. Bates?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not in words—but by everything about him. -I never saw a man so changed. Honestly, you -don’t know him at all, as we’ve known him. -You’d not believe it if I described him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tell me what you mean?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, in the first place, he’s always dignified—stately, -even. When he speaks, it’s he speaking, -and his Yea is Yea and his Nay is Nay. Then -he’s very precise—he never does anything upon -impulse, but always considers whether it’s the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>right thing for Douglas van Tuiver to do. You -see, he has an acute consciousness of his social -task—I mean, being a model to all the little -people in the world. You wouldn’t understand -his manners unless you realized that they’re -imported from England. In England—have you -ever been there?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” said Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, you’re walking along a country road, -and you’re lost, and you see a gentleman coming -the other way. You stop and begin, ‘I beg pardon’—and -he goes by you with his eyes to the -front, military fashion. You see, you’re not -supposed to exist.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How perfectly dreadful!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I remember once I was walking in the country, -and there came a carriage with two ladies in it. -It stopped as I passed, and so I stopped. ‘Can -you tell me where such and such a house is?’ she -asked, and I replied that it was in such and such -a direction. And then, without even a look, -she sank back in her cushions, and the coachman -drove on. She was a lady, and she thought it -was a grand carelessness.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, but surely she must have belonged to -the ‘<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">nouveaux riches</span></i>’!” exclaimed Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“On the contrary, she may have had the best -blood in England. You see, that’s their system. -They have a ruling caste, whose rudeness is their -religion.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We have our family pride in the South,” -said Sylvia, “but it’s supposed to show itself in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>a superior courtesy. In fact, if a person’s rude -to his inferiors, we’re sure there must be plebeian -blood somewhere.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Exactly, Miss Castleman—that’s what I’ve -always been taught.” There was a pause; then -suddenly Bates began to laugh. “They tell -such a funny story about van Tuiver,” he went -on. “It was a club-tea, and there were two -ladies whom everybody knew to be social rivals. -Van Tuiver was talking to Mrs. A. and suddenly, -without any warning, he walked over and began -to talk to Mrs. B. Afterwards somebody said to -him, ‘Why did you leave Mrs. A. and go directly -to Mrs. B.? You know they hate each other—did -you want to make it worse?’ ‘No, I never -thought of it,’ he said. ‘The point was, there -was a fireplace at my back, and I don’t like a -fireplace at my back.’ ‘But did you tell that to -Mrs. A?’ asked the friend. ‘No,’ said van Tuiver—‘I -told it to Mrs. B.’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, dear me!” cried Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And you must understand that he saw nothing -funny in it. And the significant thing is that he -gets away with that pose!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In other words, he has introduced the English -system into America,” said Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s what it comes to, Miss Castleman.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You have a king at Harvard!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The man hesitated, and then a smile spread -over his face. “Of course you realize,” he said, -“that it’s a game we’re playing.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A game?” she repeated.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>“Do you know they had a queen in New -York, Miss Castleman—until she died, just recently? -You came to the city, you intrigued and -pulled wires, and perhaps she condescended to -receive you—seated upon a regular throne of -state, painted and covered with jewels like a -Hindoo idol. Everybody agreed she was the -queen, and nobody could go anywhere or do -anything unless she said so. Only, of course, -ninety-nine people out of a hundred paid no -attention to her, and went ahead and lived their -lives just as if she weren’t queen. And it’s the -same way here.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tubby” paused for encouragement; this was -unusual eloquence for him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“As to our king,” he continued, “one-eighth -of the college pays him homage, and another -eighth rebels against him—and the other three-quarters -don’t know that he’s here. They’re -busy cramming for exams, or training for the -boat-race, or having a good time spending papa’s -money. In other words, Miss Castleman, van -Tuiver is our king when we are snobs; and some -of us are snobs all the time, and others of us only -when we go calling on the ladies. Do you understand?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I understand,” said Sylvia, intensely amused. -“I suspect that you are one of the rebellious subjects. -You are certainly a frank ambassador, -Mr. Bates!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was his turn to laugh. “The truth is, -van Tuiver’s been three years posing in a certain -<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>rôle, and he can’t turn round now and play a -different one for you. I thought it over as I was -coming here, and I said to myself, ‘I’ll ask her -to see him, but I’ll be damned’—pardon me, but -that’s what I said—‘I’ll be damned if I’ll help -him to deceive her.’ You see, Miss Castleman—I -hope I don’t presume—but I know van Tuiver’s -in love with you, and I thought—well—I——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The genial “Tubby” had turned several shades -redder, and now he fell silent. “You may feel -quite at ease, Mr. Bates,” smiled Sylvia. “The -danger you fear does not exist at all.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not by any possibility, Miss Castleman?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not by any possibility, Mr. Bates.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He—he has an enormous lot of money!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“After all our conversation! There are surely -a few things in America which are not for sale.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tubby” drew a deep breath of relief. “I -was scared,” he said—“honest.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How lovely of you!” said Sylvia. She suddenly -felt like a mother to this big fat boy who -was said to have no soul.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I said to myself,” he continued, “‘I’ll tell her -the truth about van Tuiver, even if she never -forgives me for it.’ You see, Miss Castleman, -I see the real man—as you’d never be allowed -to, not in a thousand years. And you must take -my word and be careful, for van Tuiver’s a man -who has never had to do without anything in -his whole lifetime. No matter what it’s been -that he’s wanted, he’s had it—always, <em>always</em>! -I’ve seen one or two times when it looked as if -<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>he mightn’t get it—and I can tell you that he’s -cunning, and that he persists and persists—he’s -a perfect demon when he’s got his mind fixed on -something he wants and hasn’t got.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dear me!” said Sylvia. “That <em>is</em> a new view -of him!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, I said I’d warn you. I hope you don’t -mind.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia smiled. “I thought you had set out -to persuade me to see him again!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Bates watched her. “I don’t know,” he said, -“maybe mine was the best way to persuade you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, how charming!” she exclaimed, with a -laugh. “You are really subtle.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We want to fight the introduction of the -English system, Miss Castleman! I don’t mind -an aristocracy, because I’m one of ’em; but -I don’t want any kings in America! It’s a -patriotic duty to pull them off their thrones and -keep them off.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia pondered. It was a most entertaining -view. “And the queens too?” she laughed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, and the queens too!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause, while she thought. Then -she said, “Yes, I think you’re right, Mr. Bates. -You may tell His Majesty that I’ll see him—once -more!”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 16</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia had said that she would go motoring -with van Tuiver the following afternoon. He -<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>came in a cab, explaining that he had been to -dinner in Cambridge, and that his car had run -out of fuel. “I’ve a chauffeur who is troubled -with absent-mindedness,” he remarked, with what -Sylvia soon realized was enforced good-nature. -For the car was longer in coming than he expected, -and when at last it arrived, she was given an -exhibition of his system of manners as applied to -servants.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The chauffeur tried to make some explanation. -There had been an accident, which he wanted -to tell of; but the other would not give him a -chance. “I’ve not the least desire to listen to -you,” he said. “I do not employ you to make -excuses. I told you when you came to me that -I required promptness from my servants. You -have had your opportunity, and you are not equal -to it. You may consider yourself under notice.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Very good, sir,” said the man; and Sylvia -stepped into the car and sat thinking, not hearing -what van Tuiver said to her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was not the words he had used; he had a -right to give his chauffeur notice, she told herself. -It was his tone which had struck her like a knife—a -tone of insolence, of deliberate provocativeness. -Yet he, apparently, had no idea that she -would notice it; doubtless he would think it -meant a lack of breeding in her to notice it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She wished to do justice to him; and she knew -that it was partly her Southern shrinking from -the idea of white servants. She was used to -negroes, about whose feelings one did not bother.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>If Aunt Nannie discovered one of the chambermaids -trying on her mistress’ ball-gown, it would -be, “Get out of here, you bob-tailed monkey!” -Or if Uncle Mandeville’s boy forgot to feed a -favorite horse, the rascal would be dragged out -by one ear and soundly caned—and would expect -it, knowing that if it was never done the horse -would never be fed. But to talk so to a white -man—and not in a blaze of anger, but with cold -and concentrated malevolence!</p> - -<p class='c011'>The purpose of this ride was a definite one—that -van Tuiver might find out the meaning of -Sylvia’s change of mind at the dance. He propounded -the question very soon; and the girl -had to try to explain the state of mind in which -she found herself. She would begin, she said, with -the situation she had found at Harvard. Here -were two groups of men, working for different -ends, one desiring democracy in college life, and -the other wishing to preserve the old spirit of -caste. The conflict between them had become -intense, and Sylvia’s sympathies were with van -Tuiver’s opponents.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tell me,” she said, “what has Harvard meant -to you? What has it given you that you couldn’t -have got elsewhere? Here are men from all over -America, but you’ve only met one little set. -All the others—whom you’re probably too refined -to call ‘rough-necks’—could none of them have -taught you anything?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps they could,” he answered, “but it’s -not easy to know them. If I met people promiscuously, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>they’d presume upon the acquaintance. -I’d have no time to myself, no privacy——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He saw the scorn in Sylvia’s face. “That’s all -very well,” he cried, “but you simply don’t realize! -Take your own case—do <em>you</em> meet anybody who -comes along?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am a girl,” said Sylvia. “People seem to -think it’s necessary to protect girls. But even -so, I remember experiences that you might profit -by. I went last year to our State University, -where one of my cousins was graduating. At -one of the dances I was accidentally introduced to -a man, a decent fellow, whom I liked. ‘I won’t -ask you to dance with me, Miss Castleman,’ he -said. I asked, ‘Why not?’ and he said, ‘I’m a -“goat”.’ I said, ‘I’ll dance with a goat, if he’s -a good dancer,’ and so we danced. And then -came my cousin. ‘Sylvia, don’t you know who -the man is you were dancing with? He’s a -“goat”!’ ‘I like him,’ I said, ‘and he dances as -well as any of you. I shall dance with him.’ -‘But, Miss Castleman,’ they all said, ‘you’ll -break up the fraternity system in the college.’ -‘What strange fraternity!’ I answered. ‘I think -it needs breaking up. I’ll dance with him, and -if anybody doesn’t like it, I won’t dance with -<em>him</em>.’ So I had my way.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s all right,” said the other. “If a pretty -girl chooses to have her whim, everybody can -allow for it. But if you set to work to run a -college on that basis, you’d abolish social life -there. Men of a certain class would simply not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>go where they had undesirable companionship -forced upon them. Is that what you want to -bring about?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia thought for a moment, and then countered, -“Is the only way you can think of to -avoid undesirable companionship to have a private -house?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A house?” replied van Tuiver. “Lots of -people live in houses. Doesn’t your father?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My father has a family,” said Sylvia. “You -have no one but yourself—and you don’t have -the house because you need it, but simply for -ostentation.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was very patient. “My dear Miss Castleman,” -he said, “it happens that I was raised in -a house, and I’m used to it. And I happen to -have the money—why shouldn’t I spend it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You might spend it for the good of others.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You mean in charity? Haven’t you learned -that charity never does any good?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sometimes I wish that I were a man, so that -I could understand these things,” exclaimed Sylvia. -“But surely you might find some way of doing -good with your money, instead of only harm, as -at present.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Only harm, Miss Castleman?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are spending your money setting up -false ideals in your college. You are doing all -in your power to make everyone who meets you, -or sees you, or even knows of you, a toady or -else an Anarchist. And at the same time you -are killing the best things in the college.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>“What, for instance?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There is Memorial Hall—a building that -stands for something. I can see that, even if all -my people were on the other side in the war. -There you find the democracy of the college, the -spirit of real comradeship. But did you ever -eat a meal in Memorial Hall?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” said he, “I never did.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia thought for a moment. “Do ladies -eat there?” she asked; and when he answered -in the negative, she laughed. “Of course, that -was only a ‘pretty girl’s whim’—as you call it. -But if you, Douglas van Tuiver, would go there, -as a matter of course—right along, I mean——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Eat at Memorial Hall!” he exclaimed. “My -dear Miss Castleman, I wouldn’t eat—I’d be -eaten!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In other words,” said she, coldly, “you admit -that you can’t take care of yourself as a man -among men.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was amusing to perceive his dismay over -her idea. He came back to it, after a minute. -He wanted to know if that was the sort of thing -he’d have to do to win her regard; and he repeated -the phrase with a sort of fascinated horror. “Eat -at Memorial Hall!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Until at last Sylvia declared with asperity, -“Mr. van Tuiver, I don’t care whether you eat -at all, until you’ve found something better to do -with your life.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 17</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>He took these rages of hers very humbly. He -was becoming extraordinarily tame. “I suppose -you find me exasperating,” he said, “but you -must realize that I’m trying my best to understand -you. You want me to make my life all -over, and it isn’t easy for me to see the necessity -of it. What harm do I do here, just by keeping -to myself?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was touched by his tone, and she tried -again to explain. “It isn’t that you keep to -yourself,” she said. “You cultivate a contempt -for your classmates, and they reply with hatred -and envy, and so you break up college life. It’s -true, isn’t it, that there’s a struggle going on now?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The class elections, you mean?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, that’s what I mean. So much bitterness -and intriguing, because you keep to yourself! -Why do you come to college at all? Surely you -won’t say it’s the professors and the studies!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” said he, smiling in spite of himself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You come, and you make yourself into a kind -of idol. Excuse me, if it isn’t polite, but what -I said the other night is the truth—the Golden -Calf! And what I say is, try the other plan a -while. Stop thinking about yourself, and what -they are thinking about you—above all, what -they are thinking about your money. They -won’t all be thinking about your money.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He did not answer promptly. “Apparently,” -she said, “you don’t feel quite sure. If you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>can’t, I know several real men that I could -introduce you to—men right in your own -class.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who are they?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She hesitated. She was about to say Frank -Shirley, but concluded not to. “I met one the -other day—he doesn’t belong to a club, yet he’s -the most interesting person I’ve encountered -here. He talked about you, and he wasn’t complimentary; -but if you sought him out in the -right way, and made it clear you weren’t trying -to patronize him, I’m sure he’d be a friend.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What’s his name?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mr. Firmin.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh!” said van Tuiver, and looked annoyed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You know him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“By sight. He has a bitter tongue.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No more bitter than you need, Mr. van Tuiver—if -you are going to hear the truth about yourself.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other hesitated. “I really do want to -win your regard—” he began.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t want you to do anything to win my -regard! If you do these things, it must be because -you want to do them. At present you’re just -your money, your position—your Royalty, as I’ve -come to call it. But I’m not the least bit concerned -about your Royalty; your houses and your -servants and your automobiles are a bore to me—worse -than that, they’re wicked, for no man -has a right to spend so much money on himself, -to have a whole house to himself——.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>“Please,” he pleaded, “stop scolding about my -house. I couldn’t change now, for it’s only a -couple of weeks to Commencement.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It would have all the more effect,” she declared, -“if you moved into a dormitory now. -Here are the class elections, and your class split -up——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You don’t realize my position,” he interrupted. -“It’s not merely a question of what -I want. There’s Ridgely Shackleford, our candidate -for class president; if I deserted him and -went over to the ‘Yard,’ they’d say I was a -traitor, a coward—worse than that, they’d say -I was a fool! I wouldn’t have a friend left in -the college.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You really think it would be so bad?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It would be worse. I haven’t told you half. -When the story got about, I’d become a booby -in society; I’d have to give up my clubs, I’d be -a complete outcast. I tell you, you simply can’t -break down the barriers of your class.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia sat in silence, pondering his words. -Suddenly she became aware that he was gazing -at her eagerly. “Miss Castleman,” he began, -his voice trembling slightly, “what I want above -all else is your friendship. I’d do anything to -win it—I’d give up anything in the world. I -have a regard for you—a most intense admiration. -If I knew it would make me mean something to -you—why then, I’d be willing to go to any -extreme, to defy everybody else. But suppose -I do this, and I’m left all alone——”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>“If you did this you’d have new friends—real -friends.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But the friend I want is <em>you</em>!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia answered, “If you did what was right -because it was right, if you showed yourself -willing to dare something for the sake of principle—why -then, right away you’d become worth -while. You’d not have to ask for my friendship.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He hesitated. “Suppose—suppose that I -should find that I wanted <em>more</em> than friendship——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had been prepared for that—and she stopped -him instantly. “Friendship comes first,” she -said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But,” he pleaded, “give me some idea. Could -I not expect——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You asked me to be a friend to you, to help -you by telling you the truth. That is what we -have been discussing. Pray let there be no -mistake about it. Friendship comes first.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Why did Sylvia take such a course with him? -You would have a false idea of her character if -you did not realize that it was the first time she -had ever done such a thing—and that it was a -hard thing for her to do. To refuse to let a man -propose to her! To forbear to draw him on, to -investigate him, to see what he would reply to -various baffling remarks!</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was not because she was engaged to Frank -Shirley. Under the code which Lady Dee had -taught her that made simply no difference whatever. -Under that code it was her duty to secure -<span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>every man who came into her reach; she might -remain uncertain in her own mind, she might -continue to explore and experiment up to the -very moment when the wedding ring was slipped -upon her finger. Sylvia had never forgotten -Aunt Lady’s vivid image: “Stand them up in -a line, my child, and when you get ready, walk -down the line and pick the one you want!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had set up a barrier before van Tuiver, -and he pushed against it. The more firm she -made it, the more he was moved to push. But -suppose she gave way the least little bit, suppose -he felt the barrier breaking—then would he not -stop pushing, would he not shrink away? What -fun to try him, to watch him hesitating, advancing -and retreating, trembling with desire and -with terror! To analyze the mixture of his longing -and his caution, to add a little to the one or -the other, and then see the result. Sylvia with -a new man was like a chemist’s assistant, mixing -strange liquids in a test-tube, possessed with a -craze to know whether the precipitate would be -red or green or yellow—and quite undeterred by -the possibility of being blown through the skylight.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But tempting as was the game, she could not -play it with Douglas van Tuiver. It was as if -an angel stood between them with a flaming -sword. Douglas van Tuiver was no subject for -joke, he was not a man as other men—he was -Royalty. With Royalty one must be stern and -unfaltering. “Friendship comes first,” she had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>said; and though before that ride was over he -had come again and again to the barrier, he never -broke past it, nor felt any sign of its yielding to -his touch.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 18</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia was making her plans to leave in a couple -of days. It was close to Commencement, and she -would have liked to stay, but there had come a -disturbing letter from home—the Major was not -well, and there had been an overflow, entailing -serious damage to the crops and still more serious -cares. At such a time the family reached out -blindly to Sylvia—no matter what was going -wrong, they were sure it would go right if she -were present.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And besides, her work at Harvard was done. -This was duly certified to by Harley, who came -to see her the next morning, in such a state of -bliss as is not often vouchsafed to Freshmen. -“It’s all right, old girl,” he said, “you can go -whenever you get ready. You surely are a witch, -Sylvia!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What has happened?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I had a call from Douglas van Tuiver last -night.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You don’t mean it, Harley!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes. Did you ask him to do it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I should think I did <em>not</em>!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, whatever the reason was, he was as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>nice as could be. Said he was interested in me, -and that he’d back me for one of the earlier tens.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How perfectly contemptible of him!” exclaimed -Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Needless to say, this was a turn not expected -by Harley. “See here,” he protested, “it seems -to me you’re taking a little too high a line with -van Tuiver. There’s really no need to go so -far——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Now please,” said Sylvia, “don’t concern -yourself with that. I came up here to help you, -and I’ve done it, and that’s all you can ask.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, very well,” he said, and there was a sulky -pause. Finally, however, the sun of his delight -broke through the clouds again. “Say, Sylvia!” -he exclaimed. “Do you know, the whole college -is talking about what happened at that dance. -Tell me, honestly—did you know anything about -what they meant to do?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I think that’s a question you’d know better -than to ask, Harley.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I was ready to knock a fellow down because -he hinted it. But Bates is square—he takes it -all on himself. They say Mrs. Winthrop will -never forgive him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia pondered. “Won’t it make Edith angry -with you?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll keep away from her for a few days,” -laughed Harley. “If I get my social position -established, she’ll get over her anger, never fear. -By the way, would you like to know what Edith -thinks about you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>“Why—did she tell you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, but there’s a chap in my class who knows -her. He told me what she said—only of course -one can’t be sure.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tell me what it was,” said Sylvia, “and I’ll -know if she said it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That you were shallow; that with the arts -you used any woman could snare a man. But -she would scorn to use them.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” laughed the other, “she said it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Are you really as bad as that?” asked Harley. -“What arts does she mean?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This is a woman’s affair, Harley. What else -did she say?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She said her mother was disappointed in you. -She thought you had a beautiful soul, but you’d -let it be spoiled by flattery. She said you had -no real understanding of a character like van -Tuiver, or the responsibilities of his position.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia said nothing, but sat considering the -matter. She had no philosophy about these -affairs; she was following her instincts, and sometimes -she was assailed by doubts and troubled by -new points of view. She was surprised to realize -how very revolutionary a standpoint she had -come to take in the matter of Mrs. Winthrop’s -favorite. Why should she, Sylvia Castleman, a -descendant of Lady Lysle, be trying to pull down -the pillars of the social temple?</p> - -<p class='c011'>That was still her mood when, after Harley’s -departure, the telephone rang and she found herself -voice to voice with “Queen Isabella.” “Won’t -<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>you come and have luncheon with me, Sylvia?” -asked the latter. “I’ve sent Edith away, so that -we can be to ourselves. I want to have a long -talk with you.” And Sylvia, in a penitent state, -answered that she would come.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 19</h3> - -<p class='c010'>She chose for this visit one of her simplest -costumes—a white muslin, with pale green sprigs -in it, and a pale green toque of a most alluringly -Quakerish effect. A poet had designed it for her—one -of her victims at the State University—and -had specified that she must never wear it -without a prayer-book in her hand. In this costume -she sat in Mrs. Winthrop’s sombre paneled -dining-room, with generations of sombre Puritan -governors staring down from the walls at her; -while the strange white servants stole noiselessly -about on the velvet carpets, she gazed with wide, -innocent eyes, and listened to her hostess’ delicately-worded -sermon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Winthrop appreciated the symbolism of -the costume, and used it in making a cautious -approach to her subject. She said that Sylvia -had wonderful gifts of beauty—not merely of -the person, but of taste and understanding. -Women so favored owed a great debt to life, -and must needs feel keenly the desire to make -recompense for their privileges. That, said Mrs. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>Winthrop, was something always present in her -own thoughts. How could she pay for her -existence? It was fatally easy to fall into the -point of view of those who rebelled against social -conditions, and justified the discontent of the -poor. “You know, we have such people even in -Boston,” she explained, “and they win a good -deal of sympathy. But there is a deeper and -saner view, it seems to me. Life must have its -graces, its embellishments; there must be those -who embody a higher ideal than mere animal -comfort. I think we should take our stand there—we -should justify ourselves, having the consciousness -of a mission in preserving the allurements -and amenities of life. People talk about -the poor shop-girls, and how hard they have to -work; they seem to desire that one should give -up one’s ease, one’s culture, and go and join the -shop-girls. But I say, No, I am not to be seduced -by such arguments. I am something in the lives -of those shop-girls, something definite, something -vital; I am to them an uplifting vision, an ideal -of grace and dignity. When one goes among -the lower classes and sees the brutality, the sordid -animalism of their lives—oh, it is terrifying! -One flies back to the world of refinement and -serenity as to a city of refuge.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Winthrop paused. Her beautiful eyes had -talked with her; they had gazed terrified into -social abysses, and now they came back to regions -of brooding calm. Sylvia was under their spell, -and was not conscious of any extravagance in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>the lady’s next utterance: “Speaking with a deep -conviction, I say that I am something necessary -to life, that the world could not get on without -me. I say, I am Beauty, I am Art! Have you -ever felt that, Sylvia?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have thought a good deal about such things, -Mrs. Winthrop. But as a rule, I only manage to -bewilder myself and make myself unhappy. -There is so much terrible suffering in the world!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” said the other. “How many times I -find myself asking, with tears in my eyes, ‘How -can you be happy, while all around you the world -is dying? Go, bow your head with shame, because -you have been happy!’” And sure enough, -Mrs. Winthrop bowed her head, and two glistening, -pearly tears trickled slowly from her eyes. -“It is a faith I have had to fight for,” she continued, -“something I feel most earnestly about. -For we live in times when, as it seems to me, -civilization is threatened by the terrible forces -of materialism—by the blind greed of the masses -especially. And I think that we who have the -task of keeping alive the flame of beauty ought -to be aware of our mission, and to support one -another.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia thought that this was the point of approach -to the real subject; but she said nothing, -and Mrs. Winthrop veered off again. “I have -always been especially interested in University -life,” she said. “My father was a University -professor, and I was brought up in a University -town. After I was married and found that I had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>leisure and opportunity, I said to myself that it -would be my task in life to do what I could to -influence young men during their student years, -by teaching them generous ideals, and above -all by giving them a model of a dignified and -gracious social life. It is in these years, you see, -that the tastes of young men are formed; afterwards -they go out to set an example to the rest -of the world. More than any university, I think, -Harvard is our source of culture and idealism; -our crude Western colleges look to its graduates -for teachers, and to its standards for their models. -So you see it is really no little thing to feel that -you are helping to guide and shape the social life -of Harvard.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can understand that,” said Sylvia, much -impressed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You come from another part of our country,” -continued Mrs. Winthrop—“a part which has -its own lovely culture. Whether you have ever -realized it consciously or not, I am sure that -ideas such as these must have been often impressed -upon you by your family.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” said Sylvia, “my mother often talks of -such things.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I felt that, Sylvia, when I saw you. I said, -‘Here is an ally.’ You see, I must have help -from the young people—especially from the girls, -if I am to do anything with the men.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a solemn pause. “I hope I haven’t -disappointed you too much,” said Sylvia at last.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Winthrop fixed upon her one of those -<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>intense gazes. “I’ve been perplexed,” she said. -“You must understand, I can’t help hearing -what’s going on. People come to ask me for -advice, and I must give it. And I’ve felt that -what I’ve learned made it really necessary for -me to talk to you. I hope that you won’t mind, -or think that I’m presuming.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My dear Mrs. Winthrop,” said Sylvia, “please -don’t apologize. I am glad to have your advice.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I will speak frankly, then. As well as I can -read the situation, you seem to have taken offense -at the social system we have at Harvard. Is -that true?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia thought. “Yes,” she said—“some parts -of it have offended me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Can you explain, Sylvia?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know that I can. It’s a thing that one -feels. I have had a sense of something cruel -about it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Something cruel? But can’t one feel that -about any social system? Haven’t you classes -at home? Don’t your people hold themselves -above some others?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, but I don’t think they are so hard about -it—so deliberate, so matter of fact.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah,” said Mrs. Winthrop, “that is something -I have often talked about with Southern people. -The reason is that in the South you have a social -class which is definitely separated by color, and -which never thinks of crossing the line. But in -the North, my dear, our servants look like us, -and it’s not quite so simple drawing the line.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>“Oh, but I’m not talking of servants, Mrs. -Winthrop. I mean here, within the boundaries -of a college class. Your servants do not go to -college.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other laughed. “But they do,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, surely not!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It costs a hundred and fifty dollars a year -to go to Harvard. Any man can come, black or -white, who can borrow the money. He may -come, and earn his living while he’s here by tending -furnaces. As a matter of fact, there’s a man -in the class with Douglas van Tuiver whose -father is a butler.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A man,” said Mrs. Winthrop, “named -Firmin.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was aghast. “Tom Firmin!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes. Have you heard of him before?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She answered in a faint voice, “Yes,” and -then was silent.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You see, my dear,” said the other, gently, -“why we are conscious of our class lines in the -North!”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 20</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia judged that it was about time for the -cat to come out of the bag. And now she observed -him emerging—with a grave and stately -tread, as became a feline of New England traditions. -Said Mrs. Winthrop: “I have just had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>a talk with Douglas van Tuiver. Of course, you -must know, Sylvia, that he has conceived an -intense admiration for you. And you must know -that when a man so intensely admires a woman, -she has a great influence upon him—an influence -which she can use either for good or for evil.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Mrs. Winthrop,” said Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I gather that his admiration for you is—is -not entirely reciprocated, Sylvia.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Er—no,” said the girl, “not entirely.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He has come to me in great distress. You -have criticized him, and he has felt your disapproval -keenly. I won’t need to repeat what -he said—no doubt you understand. The point -is that you have brought Douglas to a state of -distraction; he wants to please you, and he -doesn’t know how to do it. You have put ideas -into his head—really, Sylvia, you will ruin the -man—you will utterly destroy him. I cannot -but feel that you have acted without fully realizing -the gravity of the situation—the full import -of the demands you have made upon him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Really,” protested Sylvia, “I have made no -demands upon him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not formally, perhaps. But you must understand, -the man is beside himself, and he takes -them as demands.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was an awkward silence. “I have tried -earnestly to avoid Mr. van Tuiver,” said Sylvia. -“I would prefer never to see him again.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But that is not what I want. You can’t -help seeing him—he is determined to see <em>you</em>. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>My point is that your advice to him should take -another form—you should realize the peculiar -position of a man like Douglas, the immense -responsibilities he carries, and which he cannot lay -aside. If you could sympathize with him——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was again a pause. “I hope you won’t -think it obstinate of me,” said the girl, “but I -know that I could never change my attitude—that -unless Mr. van Tuiver changed his way of -life, he could never be a friend of mine.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Sylvia dear,” remonstrated the other, -gently, “he has been a friend of <em>mine</em>.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so the real battle was on. There have -been defences of the Divine Right of Kings, -composed by eminent and learned men; there -have been treatises composed upon the upbringing -of statesmen and princes—from Machiavelli -and Castiglione on; Sylvia was ignorant of their -very existence, and so she was in no way a match -for a scholarly person like Mrs. Winthrop. But -one thing she knew, and knew it with overwhelming -certainty, and repeated it with immovable -obstinacy—she did not like van Tuiver as he was, -she could not tolerate him as he was. Mrs. -Winthrop argued and pleaded, apologized and -philosophized, interpreting most eloquently the -privileges and immunities incidental to the possession -of fifty millions of dollars. But Sylvia -did not like van Tuiver, she could not tolerate -van Tuiver.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At last Mrs. Winthrop stopped, the edges of -her temper somewhat frayed. She gazed at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>Sylvia intently. “May I ask you one thing?” -she said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it?” inquired the girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Has Douglas asked you to marry him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, he has not.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you think that he will ask you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I really don’t know; but I can assure you -that he will not if I can prevent it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a long pause, while the other weighed -this utterance. “Sylvia,” she said, at last, “he -has a great deal of money.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have heard that fact mentioned,” responded -the girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But have you realized, my dear, how <em>much</em> -money he has?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>To which Sylvia answered, “We are not taught -to think so deliberately about money in the -South.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Again there was a silence. She divined that -Mrs. Winthrop was struggling desperately to be -noble. “Do I understand you to mean, Sylvia, -that you would really refuse to marry him if he -asked you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I most certainly mean it,” was her reply—and -it was given convincingly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other drew a breath of relief. She had -found the struggle exhausting. “My dear child,” -she said, “I appreciate your fineness of character.” -She paused. “But tell me this—if you do not -intend to marry Douglas, ought you to permit -him to compromise himself for you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Compromise himself, Mrs. Winthrop? I -don’t understand you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>“I mean, Sylvia, that he is exposing himself -to the ridicule of his friends—he is making a -spectacle of himself to the whole University. -And then, after he has done this, you propose -to cap the climax of his humiliation by refusing -to marry him!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia had so far been most decorous; but at -this point her sense of fun was too much for her, -and merriment broke out upon her countenance. -“Mrs. Winthrop,” she declared, “there is but one -way out—you must keep Mr. van Tuiver from -proposing to me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other’s pose became haughty and full of -rebuke; but Sylvia was not to be frightened. -“See the dilemma I am in!” she exclaimed. “If -I refuse him, I humiliate him and compromise -him. But if I marry him—what becomes of my -fineness of character?” She paused for a moment, -then added, “You must do this, Mrs. Winthrop; -you must take the responsibility of forbidding -me to see him again. You must make it so -emphatic that I’ll simply have to obey you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Queen Isabella’s” feelings were approaching -a state of turmoil; but the girl urged her proposition -seriously, finding a quite devilish amusement -in plaguing her hostess with it. The other protested -that she would not, she could not, she -<em>dared</em> not take the responsibility of interfering -with Mr. van Tuiver’s love affairs; and all without -having the least idea of the abysses of malice -which were hidden within the circumference of -the pale green Quaker bonnet in front of her!</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 21</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Frank Shirley came to call that afternoon, and -revealed the fact that the gossip had reached -even him. “Sylvia, you witch,” he exclaimed, -and pinched her ear—“what in the world have -you been doing to Douglas van Tuiver?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She caught his hand and held it in both hers. -“What has happened, Frank?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A miracle, my dear—simply a miracle! Van -Tuiver has been to call on Tom Firmin!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, how interesting!” cried Sylvia. “How -was he received?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tell me first—did you suggest it to him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m a woman—my curiosity is much less -endurable than yours. Tell me instantly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, he came—very much subdued and ill at -ease. Said he’d realized the split in the class, -and how very unfortunate it was, and he wanted -to help mend matters.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What did Mr. Firmin say?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He asked why van Tuiver had begun with -him. ‘Because I’d heard you didn’t like me,’ -said van Tuiver, ‘and I wanted to try to put -matters on a better footing. I’d like to be a -friend of yours if I might.’ Tom—you know -him—said that friendship wasn’t to be had for -the asking—he’d have to look van Tuiver over -and see how he panned out. First of all, they -must understand each other on one point—that -he, Tom, wouldn’t be patronized, and that anybody -who tried it would be ordered out.” Frank -<span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>paused, and laughed his slow, good-natured laugh. -“Poor van Tuiver!” he said. “I feel sorry for -him. Imagine him having to say he’d be willing -to take the risk! It’s about the funniest thing -I ever heard of. What I want to know is, is it -true that you did it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Would you be very angry if I said ‘Yes’?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, no,” he answered—“only I suppose -you know you’re getting a lot of publicity?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia paused for a while. “I suppose it was -a mistake all through,” she said, “but I was -ignorant when I started, and since then I’ve -been dragged along. Mr. van Tuiver has kept -at me to tell him why I didn’t like him—and I’ve -told him, that’s about all. I thought that your -friend Mr. Firmin was one who’d do the same.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He’s that, all right,” laughed Frank.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause, then suddenly Sylvia exclaimed, -“By the way, there’s something I meant -to ask you. Is it true that Mr. Firmin’s father -is a butler?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is, Sylvia.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And did you know that when you introduced -him to me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was Frank’s turn to counter. “Would you -be very angry if I said I did?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why—not angry, Frank. But you must -realize that it was a new experience.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Did you find him ill-bred?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, no—not that; but——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I thought you might as well see all sides of -college life. I knew you’d meet the club-men. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>And there’s a particular reason why you’ll have -to be nice to Tom—he wants to make me president -of the class just now.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“President of the class!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes. Politics, you see!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But,” she exclaimed, “why haven’t you told -me about it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I didn’t know until yesterday. Things have -been shaping themselves. You see, the feeling -in the ‘Yard’ has grown more bitter, and yesterday -a committee came to me and asked if I’d -stand against Shackleford, who’s been picked by -the Auburn Street crowd, and was expected to go -in without opposition. I said I’d have to think -it over. I might accept the position if I was -elected, but of course, I wouldn’t do any wire-pulling—wouldn’t -seek any man’s vote. They -said that was all they wanted. But I don’t -know; it’s a difficult question for me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But why?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, you see, they’ll rake up the story of -my father.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia gave a cry of horror. “Frank!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If there’s a contest, it’ll be war and no -quarter.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But would they do such a thing as that?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They would do it,” said Frank, grimly. “So -my first impulse was to refuse. But I rather -thought you’d want me to run. For you see, -I’ll have that old scandal all my life, whatever -I try to do; and I suppose you won’t let me -keep out of everything.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>“But, Frank, how will they know about your -father?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Lord, Sylvia, don’t you suppose with all the -social climbing there is in this place, they’ve had -that morsel long ago? There are fellows here -from the South—your cousin, for one. It doesn’t -matter, as long as I’m a nobody; but if I set out -to beat the ‘Gold Coast crowd’—then you’d -see!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was amusing to Frank to see how her eyes -blazed. “Oh, I ought to stay to help you!” -she exclaimed. “If it only weren’t for father!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t worry, Sylvia. I wouldn’t let you stay -for anything. I don’t want you mixed up in -such affairs.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Frank, think what it would mean! -What a blow to the system you hate! And I -could pull you through—you needn’t laugh, I -really could! There are so many men I could -manage!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Frank went on laughing. “Honey,” he -said, “you’ve done quite enough—too much—already. -How are you going to pay van Tuiver -for what he’s done?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Pay him, Frank?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Of course. Do you imagine, dear, that van -Tuiver’s a man to do anything without being -paid? He’ll hand in his bill for services rendered, -and he’ll put a high value on his services! -And what will you do?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She sat, deep in thought. “Frank,” she exclaimed, -“you’ve been so good—not to worry -about me and that man!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>He smiled. “Don’t I know what a proud lady -you are?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What’s that got to do with it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Honey, if I had been afraid about van Tuiver, -do you suppose I’d have dared let you know it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She looked at him, her eyes shining. “How -nicely you put it!” she said. “You’re the dearest -fellow in the world, a regular haven of refuge to -fly to!” Then suddenly her mood became grave, -and she said, “Let me tell you the truth; I’m -glad I’m going away from the man and his money! -It isn’t that it’s a temptation—I don’t know how -to say it, but it’s a nightmare, a load on my -mind. I think, ‘Oh, how much good I could -do with that money!’ I think, ‘So much power, -and he hasn’t an idea how to use it!’ It’s monstrous -that a man should have so much, and no -ideas to go with it. It’s all very well to turn your -back on it, to say that you despise it—but still -it’s there, it’s working all the time, day and night—and -working for evil! Isn’t that true?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was watching her with a quizzical smile. -“You’re talking just like Tom!” he said. -“They’ll call <em>you</em> an Anarchist at home!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was interested in the idea of being an -Anarchist, and would have got Frank started -upon a lecture on economics. But there came an -interruption in the form of a knock on the door -and a boy with a card. Sylvia glanced at it, and -then, without a word, passed it to Frank. He -read it and they looked at each other.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well?” he asked. “Are you going to see -him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>“I don’t know,” she said. “What do you say?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can stand it if you can,” laughed Frank; -and so Sylvia ordered Mr. van Tuiver shown up.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 22</h3> - -<p class='c010'>He stood in the doorway, clad in his faultless -afternoon attire. Somehow he had recovered -the hard brilliance, the look of the man of the -world, which Sylvia had noticed the first evening. -He gazed at Frank, not hiding very well his -annoyance at finding a third party.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mr. van Tuiver, Mr. Shirley,” said Sylvia. -“You do not know each other, I believe.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know Mr. Shirley by sight,” said van -Tuiver, graciously. He seated himself on a -spindle-legged Louis Quinze chair—so stiffly that -Sylvia thought of a purple domino. She beamed -from one to the other, and then remarked, “What -a curious commentary on the Harvard system! -Two men studying side by side for three years, -and not knowing each other!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was aware that this remark was not of the -most tactful order. She made it on purpose, -thinking to force the two into a discussion. But -van Tuiver was not minded that way. “Er—yes,” -he said, and relapsed into silence.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Castleman’s notions of courtesy are -derived from a pastoral civilization,” said Frank, -by way of filling in the breach. “You don’t -realize the size of Harvard classes, Sylvia.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>The girl was watching the other man, and she -saw that he had instantly noted Frank’s form of -address. He looked sharply, first at his rival, and -then at her. “Mr. Shirley is also from the -South?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” said Sylvia, “we are near neighbors.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, I see,” said van Tuiver. “Old friends, -then, I presume.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Quite,” said Sylvia, and again there was a -pause. She was willing to let the two men -worry through without help, finding it fascinating -to watch them and study them. What a curious -contrast they made! She found herself wondering -how far van Tuiver would have got in college -life if he had had the handicaps of her lover!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Frank was talking about the prospects of the -baseball team. He was pleasant and friendly, -and of course quite unmoved by the presence of -Royalty. He seemed to be wholly unaware of -the tension in the air, the restlessness and impatience -of the man he was talking to. But -Sylvia knew and was thrilled.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was a moment full of possibilities of drama. -She asked some question of Frank, and he answered, -casually, “Of course, honey.” He went -on, unconcerned and unperceiving; but Sylvia -saw the other man wince as if he had been touched -by something red hot. He looked at her, but -found that she was looking away. She stole a -glance at him again, and saw that he was watching -his rival with strained attention, his countenance -several shades paler in hue.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>That was the end of conversation, so far as -van Tuiver was concerned. He answered in -monosyllables, and his eyes went from Frank to -Sylvia like those of a hunted animal in a corner. -The girl got a new and sharp realization of his -condition. She had gone into this affair as a -joke, but now, for a moment, she was frightened. -The man was terrible; every minute, as he watched -Frank, his brow grew darker, he was like a thundercloud -in the room. And this the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">arbiter</span></i> of Harvard’s -best society!</p> - -<p class='c011'>At last, she took pity on him. It was really -preposterous of Frank to go on gossiping about -the prospects of a truce with the Princeton -“tiger,” and the resumption of football contests. -So, smiling cheerfully at him, she remarked, -“You’ll be missing the lecture, won’t you?” -And Frank, realizing that he was a third party, -made his excuses and withdrew.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Van Tuiver barely waited until Frank had -closed the door. Then, with a poor effort at -nonchalance, he remarked, “You know Mr. -Shirley quite intimately.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, yes,” said Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You—you like him very much, Miss Castleman?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He’s a splendid fellow,” she replied. “He’s -one of the men you ought to have been cultivating.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But the other would not be diverted for a -moment. “I—I wish—pardon me, Miss Castleman, -but I want you to tell me—what is your -relation to him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>“Why, really, Mr. van Tuiver——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know I’ve no right—but I’m desperate!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But—suppose I don’t care to discuss the -matter?” She was decided in her tone, for she -saw that stern measures were necessary if he was -to be checked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But nothing could stop him—he was beyond -mere convention. “Miss Castleman,” he rushed -on, “I must tell you—I’ve tried my best, but -I can’t help it! I love you—as I’ve never dreamed -that a man could love. I want to marry you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He stopped, breathing hard; and Sylvia, -off her guard, exclaimed, “No!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I mean it!” he declared. “I’m in earnest—I -want to marry you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She caught herself together. She had not -meant this to happen. She answered, with a tone -of <em>hauteur</em>, “Mr. van Tuiver, you have no right -to say that to me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But why not? I am making you an offer of -marriage. You must understand. I mean it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am able to believe that you mean it; but -that is not the point. You have no right to ask -me to marry you, when I have refused you my -friendship.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause. He sat staring at her in -pitiful bewilderment. “I thought,” he said, “this -was more serious.” And then he stopped, reading -in her face that something was wrong. “Isn’t -an offer of marriage more serious than one of -friendship?” he inquired.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“More serious?” repeated Sylvia. “More -important, you mean?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>“Exactly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“More attractive, that is?” she suggested.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why—yes.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In other words, Mr. van Tuiver, you thought -that a man with so much money might be accepted -as a husband when he’d been rejected as a friend?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why—not exactly that, Miss Castleman——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Sylvia hardly heard his denial. A wave of -annoyance, of disgust, had swept over her. She -rose to her feet. “You have justified my worst -opinion of you!” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What have I done?” he cried, miserably.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It isn’t what you’ve done, as I’ve told you -before—it’s what you are, Mr. van Tuiver. You -are utterly, utterly impossible, and I’m furious -with myself for having heard what you have just -said to me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Castleman! I beseech you——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But she would not hear him further. She -could not endure his presence. “There is no -use saying another word,” she declared. “I will -not talk to you. I will not know you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The madness of love was upon him; he held -out his hands imploringly. But she repelled him -with blazing eyes. “You must go!” she said. -“Go at once! I will not see you again—I positively -forbid you to come near me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He tried twice to speak, but each time she -stopped him, crying, “Go, Mr. van Tuiver!” -And so at last he went, almost crying with humiliation -and distress, in his agitation forgetting his -hat and gloves. So furious was Sylvia that she -shut the door, and fell on the sofa weeping.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>When she came to look back on it, she was -amazed by her vehemence. It could not have -been the manner of the proposal, for he had been -insufferable many times before, and she had -managed to take a humorous view of it. Had -it perhaps been seeing him in opposition to Frank -which had fired the powder mine of her rage? -Was it that jealousy of his power, of which she -had spoken? Or was it the protective instinct -with which Nature had endowed her maidenhood—that -she could jest with him while he was -seeking her friendship, but was convulsed with -anger when he spoke to her of love?</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 23</h3> - -<p class='c010'>That evening there was an entertainment of -the “Hasty Pudding” Club, and the next afternoon -Sylvia was to take her departure. All the -morning she held an informal levee of those who -came to bid her good-bye, and to make their -comments on the amazing events which were -transpiring. For one thing, the candidacy of -Frank Shirley for class-president was formally -announced; and for another, Douglas van Tuiver -had declared his intention to move from his -house into one of the cheaper dormitories, and to -take his seat at the common dining-tables in -Memorial Hall.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Earliest of all came Harley, in a terrible state. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>“What can have got into you? You’ve ruined -everything—you’ve undone all the good you did -for me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“As bad as that, Harley?” she asked. She -was gentle with him, realizing suddenly how -completely she had overlooked him and his -interests in the last few crowded days.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What does it all mean?” he went on. “What -has made you want to smash things like this?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She knew, of course, that there was no use -trying to explain to him. She contented herself -with saying that things could not be as bad as -he thought.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They couldn’t be worse!” he exclaimed. -“Van Tuiver’s gone over to the ‘Yard,’ bag and -baggage, and the club-men are simply furious. -They’re denouncing you, because you made him -do it, and when they can’t get at you, they’ll -take it out on me. Sooner or later they are -bound to learn that you’re engaged to Frank -Shirley; and then they’ll say you did it all to -help him—that you fooled van Tuiver and made -a cat’s paw of him for the sake of Frank.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>That was a new aspect of the matter, and a -serious one; but Sylvia realized that there was -no remedying it now. She was glad when other -callers arrived, so that she might send her cousin -away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There came Thurlow, who, as a chum of Shackleford, -wished to protest to Sylvia against the harm -she was doing to the latter’s candidacy, and to -all that was best in Harvard’s social life. There -<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>came Jackson, who, as van Tuiver’s best friend, -painted a distressful picture of the collapse of -his prestige. There came Harmon, also pledged -to plead the cause of “Auburn Street,” but proving -a poor ambassador on account of his selfish weakness. -He spoke of van Tuiver’s pitiful state, but -a very little contriving on Sylvia’s part sufficed to -bring him to his knees, beseeching her to make -him the happiest man in the world.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia rather liked Harmon; she was grateful -to him for having been the first man at Harvard -to fall in love with her, thus helping her over a -time of great self-distrust. He made his offer -with more eloquence than one would have expected -from a reserved upper-class club man; -and Sylvia gently parried his advances, and wiped -away one or two tears of genuine sympathy, and -promised to be a sister to him in the most orthodox -old Southern style.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And then came “Tubby” Bates. “Tubby” -did not ask her to marry him, but he made her -several speeches which were even more pleasant -to hear. She had finished her packing, and had -on her gray traveling dress when he called. He -stood in the middle of the floor, gazing at her -approvingly, his round face beaming and his eyes -twinkling with fun. “Oh, what a stir in the frog-pond -we’ve made!” he exclaimed. “And now -you’re running off and leaving me to face the -racket alone!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What in the world have <em>you</em> to do with it?” -she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>“Me? Doesn’t everybody know that it was -I who set you on van Tuiver? Didn’t I bring -you together at that fatal dance? And now all -the big guns in the college are aiming murder -at me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other laughed. “Surely, Mr. Bates, your -social position can stand a strain!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He laughed in return, but suddenly became -serious. He said: “I wouldn’t care anyhow. -Honest to God, Miss Castleman! There’s something -I wanted to say to you—I have to thank -you for teaching me a lesson.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A lesson?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You know, we don’t live in such a lovely -world—and I’m afraid I’ve got to be cynical. -But you’ve made me ashamed of myself, and -I want to tell you. It’s something I shall never -forget; it may sound melodramatic—but I shall -always think better of women for what you’ve -done.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She looked at him and grew serious. “Tell -me, just what have I done that seems so extraordinary -to you? I haven’t felt a bit heroic.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll answer you straight. You turned down -van Tuiver and his money!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And does that really surprise you so?” she -asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can only tell you that I didn’t believe there -was a woman in America who’d do it. I can tell -you also that van Tuiver didn’t believe it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia could not help laughing. “But, really, -Mr. Bates, how could you expect so badly of me—that -I’d sell my soul for luxury?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>“It isn’t luxury, Miss Castleman. That’s -nothing. You can buy a whole lot of luxury -with no more money than I’ve got. But with -van Tuiver it would be something else—something -that not one woman in a million has offered to -her. It’s power, its supremacy—it’s really what -you called Royalty.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And you thought that would buy me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He sat watching her intently; he did not answer.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tell me truly,” she said. “I won’t mind.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” he said, “there’s something beyond -that. I’ve read you, Miss Castleman, and I -thought he’d get you this way—you’d think of -all that could be done with his money. How -many people you knew that you could help! -How much good you could do in the world! -You’d think of starving children to be fed, of -sick children to be healed. You’d say, ‘I could -make him do good with that money, and nobody -else in the world could!’ That’s the way he’d -get you, Miss Castleman!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was gazing at him, fascinated. He saw -a strange look in her eyes, and he felt, rather -than saw, that she drew a long breath. “You -see!” he said. “You <em>did</em> have to be heroic!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So, when “Tubby” Bates took his departure, -he held her hand longer than any of her other -callers had been permitted to. “Dear Miss -Castleman,” he said, “I’ll never forget you; -and if you need a friend, count on me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He went away, and Sylvia sat in her chair, -gazing before her, deep in thought. There came -<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>a knock, and a note was brought in. She frowned -before she looked at it—she had come to know -where these notes came from.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My dear Miss Castleman,” it read, “I have -just learned that you are going away. I implore -you to give me one word. I stand ready to do -all that you have asked me, and I throw myself -on your mercy. I must see you once again.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>For a moment Sylvia was frightened, wondering -if she had a madman to deal with. Then -she crumpled the paper in her hand, and going -to the desk, seized a pen and wrote, with the -swiftness of one enraged:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mr. van Tuiver, I have asked you to do nothing. -I wish you to do nothing. All you can -accomplish is to inflict disagreeable notoriety -upon me. I demand that you give up all thought -of me. I am engaged to marry another man, and -I will under no circumstances consent to see you -again.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>This note she sent down by the boy, and when -Frank came for her with a motor-car, she kept -him in the room and sent Aunt Varina down into -the lobby to make sure that van Tuiver was not -waiting there. Some instinct made her feel that -she must not let the two men meet again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Also this gave her a little interval with Frank. -She put her hands in his, exclaiming, “I’m so -glad I’ve got you, Frank! Hurry up—get through -with this place and come home!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You didn’t like it here?” he smiled.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m glad I came,” she answered. “It’ll be -good for me—I’ll be happier at home with you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>He took her gently in his arms, and she let -him kiss her. “You really do love me!” he -whispered. “I can’t understand it, but you -really do!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And she looked at him with her shining eyes. -“I love you,” she said—“even more than I did -when I came. The happiest moment of my life -will be when I can walk out of the church with -you, and have nothing more to do with the -world!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Good-bye, Lady Sunshine!” he said. “Good-bye, -Lady Sunshine!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span> - <h2 class='c005'><span class='large'>BOOK III</span><br /> <em>Sylvia Loses</em></h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 1</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia returned to New York, where she had -some shopping to attend to, and where also -Celeste was waiting for her, expecting to be -taken to theatres, and treated to a new hat and -some false curls and boxes of candy. Celeste -had heard all about van Tuiver, it appeared, -and was “thrilled to death”—her own phrase. -There was no repressing her questions—“Is he -nice, Sylvia?”—“What does he look like?”—and -so on. Nor was there any concealing her surprise -at Sylvia’s reticence and lack of interest in this -subject.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The elder sister got a sudden realization of the -extent to which she had changed during this -last couple of weeks. “They will call you an -Anarchist at home,” Frank had predicted; and -now how worldly and hard seemed Celeste to -her—how shameful and cruel her absorption in -all the snobbery of Miss Abercrombie’s! Could -it be that she, Sylvia, had ever been so “thrilled -to death” over millionaire beaux and millionairess’ -millinery? Her sister had grown so in the few -months that Sylvia hardly knew her; she had -grown, not merely in body but in mind. So -serene she was, so self-possessed, so perfectly -certain about herself and her life! Such energy -she had, such determination—how her sharp, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>black eyes sparkled with delight in the glories -of this world! Sylvia found herself stealing -glances at her during the matinee, and wondering -if this could be “Little Sister”?</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia had dismissed her multimillionaire from -her mind; but she was not to get rid of him as -easily as that. (“He persists and persists,” -Bates had said.) One afternoon, feeling tired, -she sent her aunt forth to attend to some of the -family commissions; when to her amazement -there was sent up a note, written upon the hotel -stationery, in the familiar square English handwriting.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My dear Miss Castleman,” it ran. “I know -that you will be angry when you see I have followed -you to New York. I can only plead with -you to have pity upon me. You have put upon -me a burden of contempt which I can simply -not bear; if I cannot somehow manage to win -your respect, I cannot live. I ask only for your -respect, and will promise never to ask for anything -else, nor to think of anything else. However -bad I may be, surely you cannot deny me the -hope of becoming better!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>You see, it would have been hard for Sylvia -to refuse the request. He struck the right chord -when he asked for her pity, for she pitied all -things that suffered—whether they deserved it -or not.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She pitied him when she saw him, for his face -was drawn and his look haunted. He, the man -of fashion, the exemplar of good taste, stood -<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>before her like a whipped schoolboy, afraid to -lift his eyes to hers.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He began, in a low voice, “It is kind of you -to see me. There is something I wish to try -to explain to you. I want you to know that I -have thought over what you have said to me. -I have hardly thought of anything else. I have -tried to see things from your point of view, Miss -Castleman. I know I have seemed to you monstrously -egotistical—selfish, and all that. I have -felt your scorn of me, like something burning me. -I can’t bear it. I simply must show you that -I am really not as bad as I have seemed. I want -you to realize my side of it—I mean, how much -I’ve had against me, how hard it was for me to -be anything but what I am.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He paused. He had his hat in his hands, and -Sylvia observed to her dismay that he was twisting -it, for all the world like a nervous schoolboy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I want to be understood,” he said, “but I -don’t know if you are willing—if I bore you——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Pray go on, Mr. van Tuiver,” she said, in a -gentler tone of voice than she had ever used to -him before.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This is the point!” he burst out. “You -simply can’t know what it’s meant to be brought -up as I was! I’ve come to realize why you hate -me; but you must know that you’re the first -who ever showed me any other viewpoint than -that of money. There have been some who -seemed to have other viewpoints, but they were -only pretending, they always came round to the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>money viewpoint, they gave the money reaction. -If you try things by a certain measure, and they -fit it, you come to think that’s the measure they -were made by. And that’s been my experience; -since I was a little child, as far back as I can -remember—men and women and even children, -everybody I met was the same—until I met you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He stopped, waiting for her to give some sign. -Her eyes caught his and held them. “How was -I able to convince you?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You—” he said—and then hesitated. “You’ll -be angry with me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” she said, “go on. Let us talk frankly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You refused to marry me, Miss Castleman.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That was the supreme test?” He shrank, -but she pursued him. “You hadn’t thought -that any woman would really refuse to marry -you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He replied in a low voice: “I hadn’t.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia sat, absorbed in thought. “What a -world!” she whispered, half to herself; and then -to him: “Tell me—is Mrs. Winthrop like that?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Again he hesitated. “I—I don’t know,” he -replied. “I never thought about her in that -way. She already has her money.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If she still had to get it, then you don’t know -what she’d be?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She saw a quick look of fear. “You’re angry -with me again?” he questioned. By things such -as this she realized how thoroughly she had him -cowed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No” she said, gently, “I’m really interested. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>I do see your side better. I have blamed you for -being what you are, but you’re really only part -of a world, and it’s this world that I hate.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” he exclaimed, with a sudden light of -hope in his eyes. “Yes, that’s it exactly! And -I want you to help me get out of that world—to -be something better, so that you won’t have -to despise me. I only ask you to be interested -in me, to help me and advise me. I won’t even -ask you to be my friend—you can decide that for -yourself. I know I’m not worthy of you. Truly, -I blush with shame when I think that I asked you -to marry me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You shouldn’t say that,” she smiled. “It -was only so that you really came to trust me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But he would not jest. He had come there in -one last forlorn effort, and he poured himself out -in self-abasement, so that it hurt Sylvia merely to -listen to him. She made haste to tell him that -his boon was granted—she would think of him -in a kindlier way, and would let him write to -her of his struggles and his hopes. Some day, -perhaps, she might even see him again and be -his friend.</p> - -<p class='c011'>While they were still talking there came an -interruption—a bell-boy with a telegram addressed -to Sylvia. She glanced at it, tore it open and -read it; and then van Tuiver saw her go white. -“Oh!” she cried, as if in sudden pain. “Oh!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She started to her feet, and the man did the -same. “What is it?” he asked; but she did not -seem to hear him. She stood with her hands -<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>clenched, staring before her, whispering, “Papa! -Papa!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She looked about her, distracted. “Aunt -Varina’s gone!” she cried. “And I don’t know -where she is! We’ll be delayed for hours!” She -began to wring her hands with grief and distress.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Van Tuiver asked again, more urgently, “What -is it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She put the telegram into his hands, and he -read the message: “Come home at once. Take -first train. Let nothing delay. Father.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He’s ill!” she cried. “I know he’s ill—maybe -dead, and I’ll never see him again! Oh, Papa!” -So she went on, quite oblivious to the presence -of the man.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But listen!” he protested. “I don’t understand. -This telegram is signed by your father.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know!” she cried. “But they’d do that—they’d -sign his name, even if he were dead, so -that I wouldn’t know. They’d want me home -to break the news to me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But,” he asked, “have you reason to -think——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He was ill. I didn’t know just how ill, but -that’s why I was going home. He must be dying, -or they’d never telegraph me like that.” She -gazed about her, wildly. “And don’t you see? -Aunt Varina’s out. I’m helpless!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We’ll have to find her, Miss Castleman.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But I’ve no idea where she’s gone—she just -said she would be shopping. So we’ll miss the -four o’clock train, and then there’s none till eight, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>and that delays us nearly a whole day, because -we have to lie over. Oh, God—I must do something. -I can’t wait all that time!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She sank on a chair by the table and buried -her face in her hands, sobbing like one distracted. -The man by her side was frightened, never having -seen such grief.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Castleman,” he pleaded, “pray control -yourself—surely it can’t be so bad. There are -so many reasons why they might have telegraphed -you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No!” she exclaimed, “no, you don’t understand -them. They’d never send me such a message -unless something terrible had happened! And -now I’ll miss the train.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Listen,” he said, quickly, “don’t think anything -more about that—let me solve that problem -for you. You can have a special, that will start -the moment you are ready and will take you -home directly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A special?” she repeated.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A private car. I’d put my own at your disposal, -but it would have to be sent around by -ferry, and that would take too long. I can order -another in a few minutes, though.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But Mr. van Tuiver, I can’t let you——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Pray, don’t say that! Surely in an emergency -like this one need not stand on ceremony. The -cost will be nothing to speak of, and it will give -me the greatest pleasure.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He took her bewildered silence for consent, and -stepped to the ’phone. While he was communicating -<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>with the railroad and giving the necessary -orders, she sat, choking back her sobs, and trying -to think. What could the message mean? -Could it mean anything but death?</p> - -<p class='c011'>She came back to the man; she realized vaguely -that he was a great help, cool, efficient and decisive. -He phoned for a messenger, and wrote a -check and an order for the train and sent it off. -He had a couple of maids sent up by the hotel -to do the packing. “Now,” he said, “do not -give another thought to these matters—the -moment your aunt comes you can step into a -taxi, and the train will take you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Thank you, thank you!” she said. She had -a moment of wonder at his masterfulness; a -special train was a luxury of which she would -never have thought. She realized another of the -practical aspects of Royalty—he would of course -use a private car.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But then she began to pace the room again, -her features working with distress. “Oh, Papa! -Papa!” she kept crying.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You really ought not to suffer like this, when -it may be only a mistake,” he pleaded. “Give -me the address and I will telegraph for further -particulars. You can get the answer on your -train, you know. And meantime I’ll try, and -see if we can get your home on the long-distance -’phone.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Can we talk at this distance?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know, but at least we can relay a -message.” So again she let him manage her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>affairs, grateful for his prompt decisiveness, which -set all the machinery of civilization at work in -her behalf.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Now try to be calm,” he said, “until we can -get some more definite information. People are -sometimes ill without dying.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ve always known that I was going to lose -my father suddenly!” she broke out. “I don’t -know why—he has tragedy in his very face. If -you could only see it—his dear, dear face! I -love him so, I can’t tell you. I wake up in the -night, sometimes, and the thought comes to me: -‘Papa has to die! Some day I’ll have to part -from him.’ And then the most dreadful terror -seizes me—I don’t know how I can bear it! -Papa, oh, Papa!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She began to sob again; in his sympathy he -came and stood by her. “Please, please,” he -murmured.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ve no right to inflict this upon you,” she -exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t think of that. If I could only help -you—if I could suggest anything.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s one of those cases,” she said, “where -nothing can be done. Whatever it is, I’ll have -to endure it, somehow. If he’ll only live until I -get there, so that I can see him, speak with him -again, hear his voice. I’ve never really been -able to tell him how much I love him. All that -he’s done for me—you see, I’ve been his favorite -child, we’ve been like two playmates. I’ve -tended him when he was ill, I’ve read to him—everything. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>So he always thinks about me. He -wants me to be happy, and so he hides his troubles -from me. He hides them from everybody; and -you know how it is—that makes people lean on -him and take advantage of him. He’s a kind of -family drudge—everybody comes to him, his -brothers and sisters, his nephews and nieces—anybody -that needs help or advice or money. -He’s so generous—too generous, and so he gets -into difficulties. I’ve seen his light burning till -two or three o’clock in the morning, when he was -working over his accounts; and then he looks -pale and haggard, and still he smiles and won’t -let me know. But I always know, because he -stays close to me, like a child. And now there’s -been an overflow, and maybe this year’s whole -crop is ruined, and that’s a terrible misfortune, -and he’s been worrying about it——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Suddenly she stopped. This was Douglas van -Tuiver she was talking to—telling him her family -affairs! She had a sudden thrill of fear about -it—she ought not to have let him know that her -father was in difficulties as to money!</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was only for a moment, however; she could -not think very long of anything but her father. -What floods of memories came sweeping over her! -“He was always so proud of me,” she continued. -“When I came out, two years ago—dear old -Daddy, he wore his wedding-suit, that he’d had -put away in a cedar chest in the attic. He stood -beside mother, under the lilies and the bright -lights, and both of them would look at me and -beam.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>She had risen to her feet, and was pacing the -room, talking brokenly, but eagerly, as if it were -important to make her listener realize how very -lovable her father was. “Just think!” she said. -“He had an old purse in his hand—one that my -mother had given him on their wedding journey. -In it was an orange-blossom from their bridal-bouquet, -and some rose leaves that she had -bitten off and let fall at his feet, once when he -was courting her. He had treasured them for -twenty years; and now some one brushed against -his hand and knocked the dead leaves to the -floor, and they broke and went all to dust, and -he got down on his knees and searched for them -with tears in his eyes. I remember how mother -scolded him for making a spectacle of himself, -and he got up and went off by himself, to grieve -because his bridal-flowers had turned to dust.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Van Tuiver had listened in silence. When he -spoke, his voice held a strange note. “Never -mind,” he said, “you will make it up to him. -You will give him flowers from your bridal wreath.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Again Sylvia found herself uncomfortable. But -they were interrupted by the telephone—the -connections with her home had been established. -She flew to the booth downstairs, but she could -hear nothing but a buzzing noise, and so there -were some torturing minutes while her questions -were relayed—she talking with “Washington,” -and “Washington” with “Atlanta,” and so on. -What she finally got was this: No one was ill -or dead, but she must come at once—nothing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>must delay her. They could not explain until -she arrived. And of course that availed her -simply nothing. She was convinced that they -were hiding the truth until she was home.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When she went back to her room, she found -that Aunt Varina had come. Their trunks were -ready, and so they set off for the station, van -Tuiver with them. He saw them settled in their -car, and the girl perceived that at so much as a -word from her he would have taken the long -journey with her. She shook hands with him -and thanked him—so gratefully that he was -quite transported. As the car started and he -hurried to the door and leaped off, he was a -happier-looking van Tuiver than Sylvia had ever -expected to see.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 2</h3> - -<p class='c010'>By the time that Sylvia’s train reached home, -she had gotten herself together. Although still -anxious, she no longer showed it. Whatever -the tragedy might be, she was ready to face it, -not asking for help, but giving help to others. -It was surely for that that they had summoned -her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was on the car platform as the train slowed -up; and there before her eyes stood her father. -He was haggard, and gray, and old-looking—but -alive, thank God!</p> - -<p class='c011'>She flew to his arms. “Papa! What’s the -matter?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>“Nothing, my child,” he answered.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But who is ill?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nobody is ill, Sylvia.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tell me the truth!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No one,” he insisted.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But then, why did you send for me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We wanted you home.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Papa! In this fashion—surely you -wouldn’t—” She stopped, and the Major turned -to greet his sister.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia got into the motor, and they started. -“Is Mamma well?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” he replied.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And the baby?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Everybody is well.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And you, Papa?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have not been so very fine, but I am better -now.” Sylvia suspected he had got up from his -sick-bed to come and meet her, and so her sense -of dread increased. But she put no more questions—she -knew she would have to wait. The -Major had begun to talk about the state of the -crops.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The car reached home; and there on the steps -were her mother, and the baby shouting a lusty -welcome, and Peggy and Maria dancing with glee—to -say nothing of troops of servants, inside the -house and out, grinning and waiting to be noticed. -There was noise and excitement, so much that for -several minutes Sylvia forgot her anxiety. Then -everybody wanted to know if she had brought -them presents; she had to stop and think what -<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>she had purchased, and what she had delayed -to purchase, and what she had left behind in the -rush of departure. Aunt Varina said something -about the special train, and there were questions -about that, and about Douglas van Tuiver, who -had provided it. And still not a word about the -mystery.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Mamma,” cried Sylvia, at last, “why -did you bring me home like this?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Hush, dear,” said “Miss Margaret.” “Not -now.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so more delay. Aunt Nannie was expected -shortly—she had said she would run over to greet -the returning voyagers. Sylvia scented trouble -in this, and would no longer be put off, but took -her mother aside. “Mamma,” she pleaded, -“please tell me what’s the matter!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other colored. “It isn’t time now, my -child.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But why <em>not</em>, Mamma?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wait, Sylvia, please. It is nothing——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Mamma, did you send me such a telegram -for nothing? Don’t you realize that I -have been almost beside myself? I was sure -that somebody was dead.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia, dear,” pleaded “Miss Margaret,” -“please wait—I will tell you by and by. There -are people here now——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But there’ll always be people here. Come -into the library with me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I beg you to calm yourself——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Mamma, I want to <em>know</em>! Why should -<span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>I be tormented with delay? Can’t I see by the -manner of all of you that something is wrong? -What is it?” She dragged her mother off to -the library, and shut the door. “Now, Mamma, -tell me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other looked towards the door, as if she -wished to make her escape. Something about -her attitude reminded Sylvia of that “talk” she -had had before her departure for school. “My -dear Sylvia,” began the mother, “it is something—it -is very difficult——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“For heaven’s sake, go on!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My child, you are going to be dreadfully -distressed, I fear. I wish that I could help you—oh, -Sylvia, dear, I’d rather die than have to -tell you this!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia clutched her hands to her bosom in sudden -fear. Her mother stretched out her arms to -her. “Oh, my child,” she exclaimed, “you must -believe that we love you, and you must let our -love help! We tried to save you from this—from -this——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tell me!” cried the girl. “Tell me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, my poor child!” wailed “Miss Margaret” -again, “Why did you have to love him? We -were sure he would turn out to be bad! We——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia sprang towards her and shook her by -the arm.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mamma, answer me! What is it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Margaret” began searching in the bosom -of her dress. She drew out a crumpled piece of -paper—a telegram. Sylvia took it with trembling -fingers, and spreading it out, read these words:</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>“Frank Shirley arrested in disorderly house in -Boston, held to await result of assault on another -student. Possibly fatal. Get Sylvia home at -once. Harley.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She stood perfectly rigid, staring at her mother. -She could not realize the words, they swam before -her in a maze. The paper fluttered from her -fingers. “It’s false!” she cried. “Do you expect -me to believe that? It’s a plot! It’s some -trick they’ve played on Frank!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Her mother, frightened by the pallor of her -face, put her arms around her. “My daughter—” -she began.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What have you done about this? I mean—to -find out if it is true?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We telegraphed Harley to write us full -particulars.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, why did you send for me?” the girl -exclaimed, passionately. “If Frank is arrested, -I ought to be there!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia!” cried her mother, aghast. “Have -you read the message? Don’t you see <em>where</em> he -was arrested?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Yes, Sylvia had read, but what could she make -of it? In her mind was a medley of emotions: -horror at what Frank had done, disbelief that he -had done it, shame of a subject of which she had -been taught not to think, anxiety for her lover in -trouble—all these contended within her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The wretch!” exclaimed “Miss Margaret.” -“To drag my child’s name in the mire!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Hush!” cried Sylvia, between her teeth. “It -<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>is not true! It’s somebody trying to ruin him! -It’s a horrible, horrible lie!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Sylvia! The telegram came from your -cousin!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t care! It’s some tale they’ve told to -Harley!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But—he says Frank is arrested!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, I ought to go to him! I ought to find -out the truth! Frank is not that kind of man!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My child,” ventured “Miss Margaret,” “how -much do you know about men?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia stared at her mother. Vague questions -trembled on her lips; but she saw there was no -help in that quarter. “I have always kept my -daughter innocent!” the other was saying. “He -ought to be killed for coming into our home and -dragging you into such shame!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia stood silent, utterly bewildered. She -knew that there were dreadful things in the world, -of which she had gathered only the vaguest hints. -“A disorderly house!” She had heard the name—she -had heard other such names; she knew -that these were unmentionable places, where -wicked women lived and vile things were done; -also she knew that men went there—but surely -not the men she knew, surely not gentlemen, -not those who ventured to ask for her love!</p> - -<p class='c011'>But why should she torment herself with such -thoughts now? This charge against Frank could -not be true! “How long will it be,” she demanded, -“before we can have the letter from Harley?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“At least another day, your father says.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>“And there is nothing else we can do?” She -tried to think. “We might telephone to Harley.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Your Aunt Nannie suggested that, but your -father would not have such a matter talked about -over the ’phone.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia racked her brains, but there was no -other plan she could suggest. She saw that she -had at least one day of torment and suspense -before her. “Very well, Mamma,” she said. -“Let me go to my room now. I’ll try to be calm. -But don’t let anybody come, please—I want to -be alone.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She could hardly endure to go out into the -hall, because of her shame, and the fear of meeting -some member of the family. But there was -no need of that—they all knew what was happening, -and went about on tiptoe, as in a house of -mourning. Everyone kept out of her way, and -she went up to her room and shut herself in and -locked the door. There passed twenty-four -hours of agony, during which she by turns paced -the floor, or lay upon the bed and wept, or sat -in a chair, staring into space with unseeing eyes. -They brought her food, but she would not touch -it; they tempted her with wine, with coffee, but -for nothing would she open the door. “Bring -me Harley’s letter when it comes,” was all she -would say.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 3</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>On the morning of the next day her mother -came to her. “Has the letter come?” asked -Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The mother hesitated, and so Sylvia knew that -it had come. “Give it to me!” she cried.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It was addressed to your father, Sylvia——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Where is Papa?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She started to the door. But “Miss Margaret” -stood in her way. “Your father, my child, has -asked your Uncle Basil to come over.” And -then, as Sylvia persisted, “Sylvia, you can’t talk -of such things to your father. He thinks it is a -matter which your Uncle Basil ought to attend -to. Please spare your father, Sylvia—he has been -ill, and this has been such a dreadful blow to -him!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But for God’s sake, Mamma, what is in the -letter?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It justifies our worst fears, my child. But -you must be patient—it is not a thing that a -young girl can deal with. Where is your modesty, -Sylvia? Your father will lose respect for you if -you do not calm yourself. You ought to be -hating the man who has so disgraced you—who -cares no more for you—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Hush!” cried Sylvia. “You must not say it! -You don’t know that it is true!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But it is true! You will see that it is true. -And you ought to be ashamed of yourself, to cling -to a man who has been willing to—to—oh, what -<span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>a shameful thing it is! Sylvia, get yourself together, -I implore you—do not let your father -and your uncle see you in such a state about a -man—an unworthy man!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So there was another hour of distracted waiting, -until the Bishop came up, his gentle face a picture -of grief. “Miss Margaret” fled, and Sylvia -shut and locked the door, and turned upon her -uncle. “Now, Uncle Basil, let me see the letter.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He put it into her hands without a word. There -was also a newspaper-clipping, and she glanced -first at that, and went sick with horror. There -was Frank’s picture, and that of another man, -with the label: “Harvard student who may die -as a result of injuries received in a brawl.” -Sylvia’s eyes sped over the reading matter which -went with the pictures; it was from one of the -sensational papers, the kind which revel in personal -details, and so she had the whole story. -Frank had got into a fight with a man in a -“resort,” and had knocked him down; in falling, -the man had struck his head against a piece of -furniture, and the doctors had not yet determined -whether his skull was fractured. In the -meantime, Frank was held in three thousand -dollars bail. The account went on to say that -the arrested man had been prominently mentioned -as candidate for class-president, on behalf of the -“Yard” against the “Gold Coast;” also that he -was the son of Robert Shirley, who had died in -State’s prison under sentence for embezzlement.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It seemed hardly necessary to read any more; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>but Sylvia turned to Harley’s letter, which gave -various additional details, and some comments. -There was one point in particular which etched -itself upon her mind: “There need be no doubt -as to the character of the place. It is one of the -two or three high-class houses of prostitution in -Boston which are especially patronized by college -men. This is not mentioned in the newspaper -accounts, of course, but I know a man who was -present and saw the row, so there can be no -question as to that part of the matter.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia let the letter fall, and sinking down upon -the bed, buried her face in her arms. The Bishop -could see her form racked and shuddering. He -came and sat by her, and put his hand upon her -shoulder, waiting in silence. “My poor child!” -he began in a whisper, at last. “My poor, poor -child!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He dared not let her suffer too long without -trying to help her. “My dear,” he pleaded, -“let me talk to you. Make an effort, hear me. -Sylvia, you have to bear it. My heart bleeds -for you, but there’s no help—it has to be borne. -Won’t you listen to the advice of an old man, -who’s had to endure terrible grief, and shame—agony -almost as great as yours?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well?” she demanded, suddenly. Her voice -sounded strange and hard to him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia, dear, I tried to prove God’s words -to you by logic, and I could not. God was -never proved by logic, my child—men don’t -believe in Him for that reason. They believe -<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>because at some awful moment they could not -face life alone—because suffering and grief had -broken their hearts, and they were forced to -pray. Sylvia, there is only one way of help for -you—and that is through prayer.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He waited to know what effect his words were -having. Suddenly he heard the strange, hard -voice again. “Uncle Basil.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, my child.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I want you to tell me one thing. I have to -understand this, but I can’t—I can’t ask anybody.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it, Sylvia?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I want to know—do men do such things?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The Bishop answered, in a low tone, “Yes, -my child, I am sorry to say—many of them do.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, I hate them!” she cried, with sudden -fierceness. “I hate them! I hate life! It’s a -shameful, hideous world, and I wish that I could -die!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah, don’t say that, my child!” he pleaded. -“I beg you not to take it that way. If we let -affliction harden us, instead of chastening and -humbling us, then we miss all the purpose for -which it is sent. Who knows, Sylvia—perhaps -this is a punishment which God in His wisdom -has adjudged you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Punishment, Uncle Basil? What have <em>I</em> -done?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You have denied His word, my child. You -have presumed to set your own feeble mind -against His will and doctrine. And now——”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>“Oh, Uncle Basil, stop!” she exclaimed. “Your -words have no meaning to me whatever!” She -buried her face in the pillow, and terrible sobbing -shook her, burst after burst of it, as a tempest -shakes a tree. “Oh, I loved him so! I loved -him so!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The old man had tried speaking as a Bishop; -now he thought that the time had come for him -to speak as a Castleman. His voice became -suddenly stern. “Sylvia,” he said, “the man -was not worthy of your affection, and you must -manage to put him from your thoughts. You -are the child of a proud race, Sylvia—the daughter -of pure women! You must bear this trouble with -character, and with the consciousness of your -purity.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Uncle Basil,” she answered, “please go. I -can’t bear to talk to anyone now. I must be -alone for a while.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He rose and stood hesitating. “There’s no -way I can help you?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nobody can help me,” she answered. -“Thank you, Uncle Basil, but please go.”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 4</h3> - -<p class='c010'>And so began the second stage of Sylvia’s -ordeal. For days she roamed the house like a -guilt-haunted ghost. She could hardly be got -to speak to any one—she avoided even people’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>eyes, so great was her shame. She would not -eat, and she could not sleep—at least, not until -she had managed to bring herself to the point -of utter exhaustion. Knowing this, she would -pace the room until she sank upon the bed almost -fainting. In their terror they sent for the doctors, -but these could do nothing for her. The Major -came several times a day, and made timid efforts -to talk to her about her roses and the new plants -he had got for her. But she could think about -nothing but Frank, and sent him away. Once -after midnight he crept to her room and found -that she was gone, and discovered her in the -rose-garden, pacing back and forth distractedly, -bare-footed and clad only in her nightgown. He -led her in, and found that her feet were cut and -full of gravel and thorns; but she did not mind -this, she said—the pain was good, it was the only -way to distract her mind.</p> - -<p class='c011'>What made the thing so cruel to her was that -element of obscenity in it, which was like an -extinguisher clapped down upon her mind, making -it impossible for her to talk of it, even to think -of it. Sylvia had never discussed such things, -and now she hated Frank for having forced them -upon her. She felt herself degraded—made vile -to the whole world, and to her own soul. She -knew that everybody she met was thinking one -dreadful thing; she felt that she could never -face the world again, could never lift up her -head again. She had given her heart to a man -to keep, and he had taken it to a “high-class -house of prostitution!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>On the third day the Major came to her room -and knocked. He had a painful duty to perform, -he explained. (He did not add that there had -been a family council for nearly an hour past, -and that he had been assigned to execute the -collective decision.) There had come a letter—a -letter addressed to Sylvia from Frank Shirley.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The girl sprang to her feet. “Give it to me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My daughter!” exclaimed the Major, with a -shocked face.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She waited, looking at him with wondering -eyes. “What do you mean, Papa?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He took the missive from his pocket, and held -it in his hand as he spoke. “Do you think,” he -asked, “that it would be consistent with my -daughter’s dignity to read such a letter? My -child, this man has dragged your name in the -mire; do you think that you ought to continue -in any sort of relationship with him? Is he to be -able to boast that he had you so under his thumb, -that even after such an outrage as he had inflicted -upon you——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The Major stopped, words failing him. -“Papa,” pleaded Sylvia, “might there not be -some explanation?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Explanation!” cried the other. “What explanation—that -my daughter could read?” His -voice fell low. “That is the point—I do not -wish my daughter’s mind to be soiled with explanations -of this subject. Sylvia, you cannot -know about it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a silence. “What do you want -me to do, Papa?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>“There is but one thing a proud woman can -do, Sylvia. Send back this letter, with a note -saying that you cannot receive communications -from Mr. Shirley.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a long silence. Sylvia sank down -upon the bed, and he heard her sobbing softly to -herself. “Sylvia!” he exclaimed, “this man had -your affection—he kissed your pure young lips!” -He saw her wince, and followed up his advantage—“He -kissed you when you were in Boston, did -he not?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She could hardly bring herself to answer. -“Yes, Papa.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And do you realize that two or three days -later he had gone to this—this place?” He -paused, while the words sank into her soul. -“My daughter,” he cried, “where is your pride?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was something commanding in his voice. -She looked up at him; his face was white, his -eyes blazing. “Sylvia,” he exclaimed, “you are -a Castleman! You have wept enough! Rise -up, my daughter!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She rose, like one under a spell. Yes, it was -something to be a Castleman. It meant to be -capable of bearing any torture for the sake of -pride, of facing any danger for the sake of honor. -How many tales she had heard of that Castleman -honor! Had not the man who stood before -her, the captain of a regiment when only a half-grown -youth, marched and fought with a broken -shoulder-blade, and slept in mud and rain without -shelter or even a blanket, living for weeks -upon an allowance of six grains of corn a day?</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>She drew herself up, and her face became cold -and set. “Very well, Papa,” she said, “he -deserves my scorn.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then write as I say.” And he stood by her -desk and dictated:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mr. Shirley: I have received the enclosed -letter, but do not care to read it. All relationship -between us is at an end. Sylvia Castleman.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And to such a height of resolution had she -been lifted by her Castleman pride, that she -addressed an envelope, and took Frank’s letter, -and folded it and put it inside, and sealed and -stamped the envelope, and gave it to her father. -Nor did she give a sign of pain or grief until -after she had dismissed him, and closed and -locked the door.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 5</h3> - -<p class='c010'>In the days that followed, Sylvia’s longing for -her sweetheart overcame her pride many times; -she paced her room, tearing at the neck of her -gown like one suffocating, flinging out her arms -in abandonment of grief, crying under her breath -(for she must not let others know that she was -suffering), “Oh, Frank, Frank! How <em>could</em> you?” -Anger would come; she hated him—she hated -all men! But again the memory of his slow smile, -his straight-forward gaze, his voice of sincerity. -She would find herself whispering, incoherently, -“My love! My love!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>For the sake of her family, she labored to -repress her feelings. But she would have nightmares, -and would toss and moan in her sleep, -sometimes screaming aloud. Once she awakened, -bathed in tears, and hearing faint sobbing, put -out her hand, and found her mother, crouching -in the darkness, watching, weeping.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They besought her to let her mind be diverted -by others. For many days there was a regular -watch kept, with family consultations daily, and -some one always deputed to be with her—or at -least to be near her door. Little by little, as she -yielded to their persuasions, Sylvia got the views -of the various members of her family upon what -had occurred.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aunt Varina put her arms about her and wept -with her. “Oh, it is horrible, Sylvia,” she said—“but -think how much better that you should -find it out before it’s too late! Oh, dear girl, it -is so awful to find it out when it’s too late.” -Thus the voice of Aunt Varina’s wasted life!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aunt Nannie came later, as tactful as could -have been expected. She did not say, “I told -you so,” but she managed to leave with Sylvia -the idea that the outcome was within the limits -of human understanding. It was a matter of -“bad blood;” and “bad blood” was like murder—it -would always out. Also Aunt Nannie -ventured to hint that it might be that Sylvia -had allowed Frank Shirley to “take liberties” -with her; and this, of course, made its impression -upon the girl, who persuaded herself that she -must be partly to blame for her own disgrace.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>She became bitter against men; she did not -see how she could ever tolerate the presence of -one. Her mother, discussing the subject, remarked, -“The reason I married your father was -that he was the one good man I knew.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How did you know that he was good?” demanded -the girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia!” exclaimed her mother, in horror.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But how? Because he told you so?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Margaret” answered hesitatingly, choosing -her words for a difficult subject. “I had -heard things. Your Aunt Lady told me—how -the young men in your father’s set had tried to -get him to—to live the wicked life they lived. -They made fun of him—called him ‘Miss -Nancy’—.” She broke off suddenly. “I cannot -talk about such things to my daughter!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Even from “Aunt Mandy,” the old “black -mammy” who had been the first person to hold -Sylvia in her arms, the girl now received counsel. -“Aunt Mandy” served the coffee in the early -morning, and stood in the bedrooms and grinned -while the ladies of the family gossiped; she often -took part in the conversation, having gathered -stores of family wisdom in her sixty-odd years. -“Honey, I’se had my cross to bear,” she said to -Sylvia, and went on to discuss the depravity of -the male animal. “I’se had to beat my old man -wid a flatiron, when I ketched him lookin’ roun’ -too much—an’ even dat didn’t help much, honey. -Now I got dem boys o’ mine, what’s allus up in -cou’t, makin’ de Major come to pay jail-fines. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>But how kin I be cross wid ’em, when I knows -it’s my own fault?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Your fault, Mammy?” said Sylvia. “Why, -you are as good a mother——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know, honey, I’se tried to be good; I’se -prayed to de Lord—yes, I’se took dem boys to -de foot o’ de cross. But de Lord done tole me -it’s my fault. ‘Mandy,’ he says, ‘Mandy—look -at de daddy you give dem niggers!’ Oh, honey, -take dis from yo’ ole mammy, ef you’se gwine -ter bring any chillun into de worl’—be careful -what kind of a daddy you gives ’em!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The family had gathered in a solid phalanx -about Sylvia. Uncle Barry, whose plantation -was a hundred miles away, and who was a most -hard-working and domestic giant, left his overseers -and his family and came to beg her to let -him give her a hunting party. Uncle Mandeville -came from New Orleans to urge her to go -to a house party he would give her. Uncle -Mandeville it was who had assured Sylvia as a -little girl that he would protect her honor with -his life; and now he caused it to be known throughout -Castleman County that if ever Frank Shirley -returned and attempted to see his niece, he, -Frank Shirley, would be “shot like a dog.” And -this was not merely because Uncle Mandeville -was drunk, but was something that he soberly -meant, and that everybody who heard him understood -and approved.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Just how tight was the cordon around her, -Sylvia learned when Harriet Atkinson arrived, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>fresh from a honeymoon-voyage to the Mediterranean -and the Nile.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, Sunny, what’s this?” she demanded. -“Why wouldn’t you see me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“See you?” echoed Sylvia. “What do you -mean. I haven’t refused to see you.” It transpired -that Harriet had been writing and ’phoning -and calling for a week, being put off in a fashion -which would have discouraged anyone but the -daughter of a self-made Yankee. “I suppose,” -she said, “they thought maybe I’d come from -Frank Shirley.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia’s face clouded, but Harriet went on—“My -dear, you look like a perfect ghost! Really, -this is horrible!” So she set to work to console -her friend and drag her out of her depression. -“You take it too seriously, Sunny. Beauregard -says you make a lot more fuss about the thing -than it deserves. If you knew men better——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh don’t, Harriet!” cried the other. “I can’t -listen to such things!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know,” said Harriet, “there you are—the -thing I’ve always scolded you for! You’ll never -be happy, Sunny, while you persist in demanding -more than life will give. You say what you want -men to be—and paying no attention at all to -what they really are.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Are you happy?” asked Sylvia, trying to -change the subject.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“About as I expected to be,” said the other. -“I knew what I was marrying. The only trouble -is that I haven’t been very well. I suppose it’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>too much rambling about. I’ll be glad to settle -down in my home.” She was going to Charleston -to live in the old Dabney Mansion, she explained; -at present she was paying a flying visit to her -people.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, Sunny,” she remarked, “you are going -to give him up?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How can I do otherwise, Harriet?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I suppose you couldn’t—with that adamantine -pride of yours. And of course it <em>was</em> awkward -that he had to get into the papers. But Beau -says these things blow over sooner than one -would expect. Nobody thinks it’s half as bad -as they all pretend to think it.” (Harriet, you -must understand, felt rather sorry for Frank, and -thought that she was pleading his cause. She -did not understand that her few words would do -more to damn him than all that the family had -been able to say.)</p> - -<p class='c011'>But she perceived that Sylvia did not want to -talk about the subject. “Well, Sunny,” she said, -after a pause, “I see you’ve got a substitute -ready.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How do you mean?” asked Sylvia, dully.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I mean your Dutch friend.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My Dutch friend? Oh—you are talking about -Mr. van Tuiver?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are most penetrating, Sylvia!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You’ve heard about him?” said the other, -without heeding her friend’s humor.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Heard about him! For heaven’s sake, what -else can one hear about in Castleman County -just now?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>Sylvia said nothing for a while. “I suppose,” -she remarked, at last, “it’s because I came in a -special train.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My dear,” said the other, “it’s because <em>he</em> -came in a special train.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>He</em> came?” repeated Sylvia, puzzled.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And her friend stared at her. “Good Lord,” -she said, “I believe you really don’t know that -Mr. van Tuiver’s in town!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia started as if she had been struck. “Mr. -van Tuiver <em>in town</em>!” she gasped.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, surely, honey—he’s been here three -or four days. How they must be taking care of -you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia sprang to her feet. “How perfectly -outrageous!” she cried.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What, Sunny? That you haven’t seen him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Harriet, stop joking with me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But I’m not joking with you,” said Harriet, -bewildered. “What in the world is the matter?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia’s face was pale with anger. “I won’t -see him! I won’t see him! He has no right to -come here!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But Sunny—what’s the matter? What’s the -man done?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He wants to marry me, Harriet, and he’s -come here—oh, how shameful! how insulting! -At such a time as this!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But I should think this was just the time for -him to come!” said Harriet, laughing in spite of -herself. “Surely, Sylvia, if you haven’t gone -formally into mourning——”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>“I won’t see him!” cried the other, passionately. -“He must be made to understand it at once—he’ll -gain nothing by coming here!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Sunny,” suggested her friend, “hadn’t -you better wait until he <em>tries</em> to see you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Where is he, Harriet?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He’s staying with Mrs. Chilton.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“With Aunt Nannie!” Sylvia stood, staring -at Harriet with sudden fear in her face. She -saw now why van Tuiver had made no attempt -to see her, why nothing had been said to her as -yet! She clenched her hands tightly and exclaimed, -“I won’t marry him! They sha’n’t sell -me to him—they sha’n’t, they sha’n’t!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Her friend was gazing at her in wonder, not -unmixed with alarm. “Good God, Sunny,” she -exclaimed, “can he be so bad that you’d refuse -to marry him?”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 6</h3> - -<p class='c010'>All this while, you must understand, there -was Sylvia’s “world” outside, looking on at the -drama—pitying, wondering, gossiping, speculating. -Frank arrested, Frank out on bail! Frank -let off with a fine, because the man did not die! -Frank leaving college and coming back to his -plantation! Would he try to see Sylvia, and -what would Sylvia do about it? Would Mandeville -Castleman carry out his threat to shoot him? -How was Sylvia taking it, anyway? Would she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>be seen at the next club-dance? And then—interest -piled upon interest—Douglas van Tuiver -had come! Was it true that the Yankee Crœsus -wanted to marry Sylvia? Was it true that he -had already asked her? Could it be that she had -actually refused to see him? And what would -the family do about that?—All this, you understand, -most decorously, most discreetly—and yet -with such thrills, such sensations!</p> - -<p class='c011'>When the audience is stirred, the actors know -it; and people so sensitive and proud as the -Castlemans could not fail to be aware that the -world’s attention was focussed upon them. So -Sylvia was not left for long to indulge her grief. -As soon as her relatives had made sure of her -breach with Frank, they turned their energies -to persuading her to present a smiling front to -“society.” “You must not let people see that -you are eating your heart out over a man!”—such -was their cry. There were few things worse -that could happen to a woman than to have it -known that she was grieving about a man. Just -as a savage laughs at his enemies while they are -torturing him, so must a woman wear a smile -upon her face while her heart was breaking.</p> - -<p class='c011'>From the first moment, of course, her old suitors -rallied to protect her—a kind of outer phalanx, -auxiliary to the family. They wrote to her, -they sent flowers, they called and lingered in -the hope that she might see them. When the -time for the club-dance came, the siege of the -suitors became a general assault. A dozen times -<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>a day came her mother or Aunt Varina to plead -with her, to scold her. “I don’t want to dance—I -couldn’t dance!” she wailed; but it would be, -“Here’s Charlie Peyton on the ’phone—he begs -you to speak to him just a moment. Go, Sylvia, -please—<em>don’t</em> let people think you are so weak!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>At last she told one man that he might call. -Malcolm McCallum it was—the same who had -crawled upon his knees to prove his devotion to -her. She had long ago convinced him that his -suit was hopeless, so now he was able to plead -with her without offense. Her friends wanted -so to help her—would she not give them a chance? -They were indignant because of the way a scoundrel -had treated her; they wanted somehow to -show her their loyalty, their devotion. If only -she would come—such a tribute as she would -receive! And surely she was not going to give -up her whole life, because of one such fellow! -She had so many true friends—would she punish -them all for the act of one? No, they would not -have it! No, not if they had to raid the house -and carry her away! The belle of Castleman -Hall should not wither up and be an old maid!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia promised to think it over; and then came -Aunt Nannie, to protest in the name of all her -cousins against her inflicting further notoriety -upon the family. For Sylvia to be exhibiting -such unseemly grief over Frank Shirley was almost -as bad as to be engaged to him. She must positively -take up her normal life again; she must -go to this dance!</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span>Sylvia, perceiving that it would be necessary -to have the matter out sooner or later, inquired, -“Is Mr. van Tuiver to be there?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was surprised at the answer, “He is not.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Where is he?” she asked; and learned that -the visitor had gone with two of the boys on a -fishing-trip. Sylvia and her aunt exchanged -looks—as two swordsmen might, while their -weapons are being measured and the ground laid -out for their duel. The girl could imagine what -had happened, almost as well as if she had been -present. Van Tuiver, with his usual crude egotism, -had come post-haste to Castleman Hall; -it was Aunt Nannie who had persuaded him to -wait, and let her handle the affair with tact. -Sylvia must first be drawn out into social life, -and then it would be less easy for her to avoid -van Tuiver. But although Sylvia felt sure of -this, she could not say so. When she hinted the -charge, her aunt had a shrewd retort ready: -“I have daughters of my own—and may I not -have plans of my own for so eligible a young -man as Douglas van Tuiver?”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 7</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia said that she would go to the dance; -and great was the excitement, both at home and -abroad. All day long, between fits of weeping, -she labored to steel herself to the ordeal. When -<span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span>night came, she let herself be arrayed in rosy -chiffon, and then went all to pieces, and fell upon -the bed in a paroxysm, declaring that she could -not, could not go. One by one came “Miss -Margaret,” Aunt Varina, and Celeste, scolding her, -beseeching her—but all in vain; until at last -they sent for the Major, who, wiser than all of -them, arrayed himself in his own evening finery, -and put a white rosebud in his button-hole, and -then went with cheerful face and breaking heart -to Sylvia’s room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come, little girl,” he said. “Daddy’s all -ready.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia sat up and stared at him through her -tears. “You!” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, of course, honey,” he smiled. “Didn’t -you know your old Papa was going with you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia had not known it, nor had anybody else -known it up to a few minutes before. Her surprise -(for the Major almost never went to dances) -was sufficiently great to check her tears; and -then came “Miss Margaret” with a glassful of -steaming “hot toddy.” “My child,” she said, -“drink this. You’ve had no nourishment—that’s -why you go to pieces.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So they washed her face again, and powdered -it up; they straightened her hair and smoothed -out the wrinkles in her dress, and got her bows -and ribbons in order, and took her down stairs -to where Aunt Nannie was waiting, grim and -resolute—a double force of chaperones for this -emergency!</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span>You can imagine, perhaps, the excitement when -they reached the club-house; how the whisper -went round, and the swains crowded in the doorway -to wait for her. The younger ones cheered -when she entered—“Hi, yi! Whoop la! Miss -Sylvia.” They came jumping and capering across -the ball-room floor—one of them tearing a great -palmetto-leaf from the decorations on the wall, -and performing a wonderful, sprawling salaam -before her. “I’m the King of the Cannibal -Islands!” he proclaimed. “Will you be my -Queen, Miss Sylvia?” Several others locked -arms and executed a cake-walk, by way of manifesting -their delight. The dance of the country-club -was turned into a reception in her honor. -They worshipped her for having come—it took -nerve, by George, and nerve was the thing they -admired. And then how lovely she was—how -perfectly, unutterably lovely! Just a little more -suffering like this, and she would be ready to be -carried up in a chariot of fire and set among the -seraphim!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Of course, in the face of such a welcome, it -was unthinkable that she should not carry the -thing through triumphantly. In the refreshment-room -were egg-nog and champagne-punch, and -she drank enough to keep her in a glow, to carry -her along upon wings of excitement. One by one -her old sweethearts came to claim a dance with -her, and one by one they caused her to understand -that hope was springing eternal in their -breasts. She found herself so busy keeping them -<span class='pageno' id='Page_316'>316</span>in order that life seemed quite as it had always -been in Castleman County.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Save for one important circumstance. There -had come a new element into its atmosphere—something -marvellously stimulating, transcending -and overshadowing all that had been before. -Sylvia found out about it little by little; the -first hint coming from old Mrs. Tagliaferro—the -General’s wife, you may remember. She had -come to Sylvia’s <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">début</span></i> party, hobbling with a -gold-headed cane; but now, the General having -died, she had thrown away her cane, and chaperoned -her great-grandchildren at dances, because -otherwise people would think she was getting -old. She shook a sprightly finger at the belle -of the evening, and demanded, “What’s this -I hear, my child, about your latest conquest? -I always knew you’d be satisfied with nothing -less than a duke!” Sylvia’s face clouded, and the -other went on her way with a knowing cackle. -“Oh, you can’t fool me with your haughty looks!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And then came Mabel Taylor, a girl who had -been a hopeless wallflower in her early days, -and had been saved because Sylvia took pity -upon her, and compelled men to ask her to dance. -Now she was Sylvia’s jealous rival; and greeting -her in the dressing-room she whispered, “Sylvia, -is he really in love with you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“When Sylvia asked, “Who?” the other replied, -“Oh, it’s a secret, is it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The girl perceived that she must take some -line at once. “Are you really going to marry -<span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span>him?” asked Charlie Peyton, with despair in his -voice. “We can’t stand that sort of competition!” -protested Harvey Richards. “We shall -have to have a protective tariff, Miss Sylvia!” -(Harvey, as you may recall, was a steel manufacturer.)</p> - -<p class='c011'>The thing had got upon Sylvia’s nerves. “Are -you so completely awed by that man?” she -demanded, in a voice of intense irritation.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Awed by him?” echoed Harvey.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why don’t you at least mention his name? -You are the fourth person who’s talked to me -about him to-night and hasn’t dared to utter -his name. I believe it’s not customary for Kings -to use their family names, but they have Christian -names, at least.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, Miss Sylvia!” exclaimed the other.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Let us give him a title,” she pursued, savagely. -“King Douglas the First, let us say!” And -imagine the seven pairs of swift wings which -that saying took unto itself! She called him a -King! King Douglas the First! She referred to -him as Royalty—she made fun of him as openly -and recklessly as that! “What sublimity!” -exclaimed her admirers. “What a pose!” retorted -her rivals.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But even so, they could not but envy her the -pose, and the consistency with which she adhered -to it. She could not be brought to discuss the -King—whether he was in love with her, whether -he had asked her to marry him, whether he had -come South on her account; nor did she show -<span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span>any particular signs of being impressed by him—as -if she really did not consider him imposing, or -especially elegant, or in any way unusual. Oh, -but they were a haughty lot, those Castlemans—and -Sylvia was the haughtiest of them all! The -country-club began to revise its estimates of -Knickerbocker culture, and to remember that, -after all, the only real blood in America was in -the South.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 8</h3> - -<p class='c010'>The next afternoon came Harriet Atkinson, to -bid Sylvia farewell, and incidentally to congratulate -her upon her triumph. After they had -chatted for a while, she put her hand upon her -friend’s, and remarked in a serious tone, “Sunny, -I’ve had a letter from Frank Shirley.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She felt the hand quiver in hers, and she pressed -it more firmly. “He wanted to explain things -to me,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What did he say?” asked Sylvia, in a faint -voice.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Harriet did not answer. “I wrote to him,” -she continued, “that I declined to have anything -to do with the matter.” Seeing her friend’s -lip beginning to tremble, she added, “Sunny, I -did it for your own good—believe me. I don’t -want you to open up things with that man again.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why not, Harriet?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“After what’s happened, you ought to know -<span class='pageno' id='Page_319'>319</span>that your people would never stand for it—there’d -surely be some kind of a shooting-scrape. -And even supposing that you got away with -him—what sort of an existence would you have? -Frank Shirley is no money-maker, and somehow -I don’t seem to feel that you were cut out for -cottage-life.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She stopped and fixed her gaze upon her friend. -“Sunny,” she said, “I want you to marry the -other man.” Then, as Sylvia started—“Don’t -ask me what other man. I’m no Mabel Taylor.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia perceived that her words were being -cherished these days. “Harriet,” she exclaimed -in an agitated voice, “I can’t endure Douglas -van Tuiver.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Now, Sunny, I want you to listen to me. -This may be the last chance I’ll have to talk to -you—I’m going off to-morrow, to settle down to -domestic virtue. I want to give it to you straight—to -take the place of your Aunt Lady in this -crisis. You fall in love at first sight, and it -brings you wonderful thrills, and you marry on -the strength of it—and then in a year or two the -thrills are gone, and where are you? Take my -advice, Sunny, there’s a whole lot more in life -than this young-love business. Try to look -ahead a little and realize the truth about yourself. -If ever there was a creature born to be -a sky-lark, it’s you; and here’s a man who could -take you out and give you a chance to spread -your wings. For God’s sake, Sunny, don’t throw -the chance away, and settle down to be a barnyard -fowl here in Castleman County.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_320'>320</span>“Harriet!” cried Sylvia, frantically, “I tell you -I can’t endure the man!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know, Sunny—but that’s just nonsense. -You’re in love with one man, and of course it -sets you wild to think of another. But women -can get used to things; and one doesn’t have to -be too intimate with one’s husband. The man -is dead in love with you, and so you’d always -be able to manage him. I told you that about -Beau—and I can assure you I’ve found it a convenient -arrangement. From what I can make -out, Mr. van Tuiver isn’t a bad sort at all—he -seems to have charmed everybody down here. -He’s not bad-looking, and he certainly has wonderful -manners. He can go anywhere in the world, -and if he had you to manage him and do things -with him—really, Sunny, I can’t see what more -you could want! Certainly it’s what your family -wants—and after all, you’ll find it’s nice to be -able to please your people when you marry. -I know how you despise money, and all that—but, -Sylvia, there aren’t many fortunes made out -of cotton planting these days, and if you could -hear poor Beau tell about what his folks have -been through, you’d understand that family pride -without cash is like mustard without meat!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So Harriet went on. She was a sprightly young -lady, and generally able to hold her audience; -but after several minutes of this exhortation, she -stopped and asked, “Sunny, what are you thinking -about?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And Sylvia, her face grown suddenly old with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_321'>321</span>grief, caught her by the hand. “Oh, Harriet,” -she whispered, “tell me the truth—do you think -I ought to hear his explanation?”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 9</h3> - -<p class='c010'>There were more dances and entertainments; -and each time, of course, it was harder for Sylvia -to escape. She had been to one, and so people -would expect her at the next. There was always -somebody who would be hurt if she refused, and -there was always that dreadful phenomenon -called “people”—it would say that the task had -been too much for her, that she was still under -the spell of the man who had flaunted her. So -evening after evening Sylvia would choke back -her tears, and drink more coffee, and go forth and -pretend to be happy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was at the third of these entertainments -that she met Douglas van Tuiver. No one had -told her of his return—she had no warning until -she saw him enter the room. She had to get -herself together and choose her course of action, -with the eyes of the whole company upon her. -For this was the meeting about which Castleman -County had been gossiping and speculating for -weeks—the rising of the curtain upon the second -act of the thrilling drama!</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was his usual precise and formal self; -unimpeachably correct, and yet set apart by a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_322'>322</span>something—a reserve, a dignity. This extended -even to his costume, which tolerated no casual -wrinkle, no presumptuous speck. There was -always just a slight difference between van -Tuiver’s attire and that of other men—and somehow -you knew that this was the difference between -the best and the average.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It seemed strange to Sylvia to see him here, -in her old environment; strange to compare him -with her own people. She realized that she would -have to treat him differently now, for he was a -stranger, a guest. She discovered also a difference -in him. He may have been touched by the -change he saw in her; at any rate he was very -gentle, and very cautious. He asked for a dance, -and promised that he would not ask for more. -To her great surprise he kept the promise.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Sylvia,” he said, when they strolled out -after the dance, “may I call you Miss Sylvia, -as they all seem to here? I want to explain something, -if you will let me. I’m afraid that my -being here will seem to you an impertinence. -I hope you will accept my apology. When I got -back to Cambridge I learned from your cousin -what—what the news would mean to you; and -I came because I thought perhaps I might help. -It was absurd, I suppose—but I didn’t know. -Then, when I got here, I did not dare to ask to -see you. I don’t know now if you will send me -away——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He stopped. “I am sure, Mr. van Tuiver,” -she said, quietly, “you have a perfect right to -stay here if you wish.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_323'>323</span>“No right, Miss Sylvia, but the right you -give me!” he exclaimed. “I won’t take refuge -in quibbles. I thought that if I promised not to -bother you, and really kept the promise—if I -never asked to see you unless you desired it——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was not easy to send him away upon those -terms. She did not see what good it would do -him to stay, but she refrained from asking the -question. He paused—perhaps to make sure -that she would not ask. “Miss Sylvia,” he -continued, finally, “I am afraid you will laugh -at me—but I want to be near you, I don’t want -to be anywhere else. I want to see the world -you belong in; I want to know your relatives and -your friends—your home, the places you go to—everything. -I want to hear people talk about -you. And at the same time I’m uncomfortable, -because I know you dislike me, and I’m afraid -I’ll anger you, just by being here. But if you -send me away—you see, I don’t know where to -go——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He stopped, and there was a long silence. -“You are missing your examinations,” she said, -at last.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t care anything about Harvard,” he -replied. “I’ve lost all interest—I shall never go -back.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But how about the reforms you were going -to work for? Have you lost interest in them?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He hesitated. “They’ve all—don’t you see?” -He stopped, embarrassed. “The movement’s -gone to pieces.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_324'>324</span>“Oh!” said Sylvia, and felt a slow fire of shame -mounting in her cheeks. It had not occurred to -her to think of the plight of the would-be revolutionists -of the “Yard” after their candidate had -landed himself in jail.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They turned to go in, and van Tuiver asked, -timidly, “You won’t send me away, Miss Sylvia?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I wish,” she answered, “that you would not -put the burden of any such decision upon me.” -And so the matter rested, van Tuiver apparently -content with what he had gained. Sylvia’s next -partner claimed her, and she did not see “King -Douglas the First” again; a circumstance which, -needless to say, was duly noted by Castleman -County, to its great mystification. Could it be -that rumor was mistaken—that he was not really -after Sylvia at all? Could it be that her flouting -of “Royalty” was a common case of “sour -grapes”?</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 10</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia would not be content to drift and suffer -indefinitely. It was not her nature to give up -and acknowledge failure, but to make the best -of things. Her thoughts turned to those in her -own home, and how she could help them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>All through the tragedy she had been aware -of her father, moving about the house like a -ghost, silent, wrung with grief; her heart bled -for the suffering she had caused him. Her chief -<span class='pageno' id='Page_325'>325</span>thought was to make it up to him, to be cheerful -and busy for his sake—to put him into the place -in her heart which Frank Shirley had left empty. -After all, he was the one man she could really -trust—the one who was good and true and -generous.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She sought him out one night, while the light -was burning in his office. She drew up a chair -and sat close to him, so that she could look into -his eyes. “Papa,” she said, “I’ve been thinking -hard—and I want to tell you, I’m going to -try to be good.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are always good, my child,” he declared.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have been selfish and heedless. But now -I’m going to think about other people—about -you most of all. I want to do the things I used -to be happy doing with you. Let us begin -to-morrow and take care of our roses, and have -beautiful flowers again. Won’t that be nice, -Daddy?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There were tears in his eyes. “Yes, dear,” -he said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And then I must begin and read to you. -I know you are using your eyes too much, and -mine are young. And Papa—this is the principal -thing—I want you to let me help you with -the accounts, to learn to be of some use to you -in business ways. No, you must not put me off, -because I know—truly I know.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What do you know, dear?” he asked, smiling.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know you work too hard, and that you -have things to worry you, and that you try to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_326'>326</span>hide them from me. I know how many bills -there are, and how everybody wastes money, -and never thinks of you. I’ve done it myself, -and now it’s Celeste’s turn—she must have -everything, and be spared every care, and write -checks whenever she pleases. Papa, if it’s true -that this year’s crop is ruined, you’ll have to -borrow money—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My child!” he began, protestingly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know—you don’t want me to ask. But -see, Papa—if I married, I’d have to know about -my husband’s affairs, and help him, wouldn’t I? -And now that I shall never marry—yes, I mean -that, Papa. I want you not to try to marry -me off any more, but to let me stay at home -and be a help to you and Mamma.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other was shrewd enough to humor her. -They would get to work at the roses in the -morning, and they would take up Alexander H. -Stephens’ Confederate History without delay; -also Sylvia might take the bills as they came -in each month, and find out who had ordered -what, and prevent the tradesmen from charging -for the same thing twice over. But of course, -he did not tell her any of his real worries, nor -let her see his bank-books and accounts; nor -could he quite see his way to promise that Aunt -Nannie should let her alone while she settled into -old-maidenhood.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aunt Nannie came round the next morning, -as it happened. Sylvia did not see her, being -up to the wrists in black loam in the rose-garden; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_327'>327</span>but she learned the purpose of the visit at lunchtime. -“Sylvia,” said her mother, “do you think -it’s decent for us to go much longer without -inviting Mr. van Tuiver over here?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you think he wants to come?” asked -Sylvia, with a touch of her old mischief.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Your Aunt Nannie seems to think so,” was -the reply—given quite naïvely. “I wrote to ask -him to dinner. I hope you won’t mind.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia said that she would find some way to -make the occasion tolerable. And she found -a quite unique way. It was one of her times -for bitterness, when she hated the world, and -especially the male animals upon it, and herself -for a fool for not having known about them. -It chanced to be the same day of the week that -she had prepared for Frank’s coming, and had -introduced him to the family with so many -tremblings and agonies of soul. So now, when -she came to dress, she picked out the gown she -had worn that evening, and had them bring her -a bunch of the same kind of roses: which seemed -to her a perfectly diabolical piece of cynicism—like -to the celebrating of a “black mass”!</p> - -<p class='c011'>She descended, radiant and lovely, in a mood -of somewhat terrible gaiety. She laughed and -all but sang at the dinner-table; she joked with -van Tuiver, and flouted him outrageously—and -in the next breath charmed and delighted him, -to the bewilderment of the family, who knew -nothing about her adventures with Royalty, and -the various strange moods to which its presence -drove her.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_328'>328</span>In the course of that meal she told him a -story—one of the wildest and most wonderful of -her stories. So at least it seemed to me, who -for years have been longing for a poet to take -it up and make a ballad of it—a real American -ballad! It is curious, but I can hear the very -rhyme and rhythm of that ballad, which I cannot -write. I wonder if I may not awaken in some -grey dawn, and find it all complete, singing itself -in my mind!</p> - -<p class='c011'>The story of the burning of “Rose Briar,” it -was. “Rose Briar” was the old home of one of -the Peytons, which had stood for three generations -on a high bluff on the river-bank a mile or -so from Sylvia’s home. It had the largest and -most beautiful ball-room in the county, and was -a centre of continuous hospitality. One night -had come a telephone-message to the effect that -it was on fire, and the neighbors gathered from -miles around; on a wild night, with a gale blowing -and the whole roof and upper part of the house in -flames, they saw that the place was doomed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And there was the splendid ball-room, in which -they and their fathers and their grandfathers had -celebrated so many festivities! “One last dance!” -cried the young folks, and in they trooped. The -servants were trying to get the piano out, but -the master of the house himself stopped them—what -was a piano in comparison to a romantic -thrill? So one played, and the rest danced—danced -while the fire roared deafeningly in the -stories above them, and creeping veils of smoke -<span class='pageno' id='Page_329'>329</span>gathered about their heads. They danced like -mad creatures, laughing, singing in chorus. Eddying -gusts of flame poured in at the windows, and -still they sang—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“When you hear dem bells go ting-a-ling-a-ling,</div> - <div class='line'>All join hands and sweetly we will sing—</div> - <div class='line in2'>There’ll be a hot time in the old town to-night!”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>And so on, until there came a crashing of rafters -above them, and showers of cinders and burning -wood through the windows. Then they fled, and -gathered in a group upon the lawn, and watched -the roof of their pleasure-house fall in, sending a -burst of flame and sparks to the sky.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And here, thought Sylvia, was the roof of her -pleasure-house falling in! There was something -terrifying in the symbol; the house of civilization -was falling in, and people were dancing, dancing! -“Don’t you feel that, Mr. van Tuiver?” she -asked. “It seems to me sometimes that I can -see the world going to destruction before my -eyes, and people don’t know about it, they don’t -care about it. They are dancing, drunk with -dancing! On with the dance!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She laughed, a trifle hysterically, for her nerves -were near the breaking point. Then she happened -to look towards her sister Celeste, and caught a -strange look in her eyes. She took in the meaning -of it in an instant—Celeste was conscious of -the presence of Royalty, and shocked by this -display of levity upon a solemn occasion! “Sister, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_330'>330</span>how <em>dare</em> you?” the look seemed to say; and the -message gave a new fillip to the mad steeds of -Sylvia’s fancy. “Never mind, Chicken!” she -laughed. (“Chicken” was a childhood nickname, -which, needless to say, was infuriating to a young -lady soon to make her <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">début</span></i>.) “Never mind, -Chicken! The roof will last till you’ve had your -dance!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And then, the meal at an end, Sylvia took her -guest into the library. She put him in the -same chair that Frank had occupied, and turned -on the same lights upon her loveliness; she took -her seat, and looked at him once, and smiled -alluringly—and then suddenly looked away, and -bit her lip until it bled, and sprang up and fled -from the room, and rushed upstairs and flung -herself upon her bed, sobbing, choking with her -grief.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 11</h3> - -<p class='c010'>There were ups and downs like this. The -next day, of course, Sylvia was ashamed of her -behavior; she had promised to be happy, and -not to distress her people—and this was the -way she kept her promise. She began to make -new resolutions, and to think of ways of atoning. -She took her father out into the garden, and -pretended deep interest in the new cinnamon-roses. -She spent a couple of hours going over -his old check-stubs and receipted bills, and with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_331'>331</span>evidence thus discovered went into town and -made a row with a tradesman, and saved her -father a couple of hundred dollars.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then, after lunch, she took him for a drive -behind the new pony which Uncle Mandeville -had given her. She got him out into the country, -and then opened up on him in unexpected fashion. -“Papa, it isn’t possible for people like us to economize, -is it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not very much, my child,” he answered -smiling. “Why?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “It’s all -wrong—but I don’t know what to do about it. -You spent so much money on me; I didn’t want -it, but I didn’t realize it till it was too late. And -now comes Celeste’s turn, and you have to spend -as much on her, or she’ll be jealous and angry. -And Peggy and Maria will see what Celeste gets, -and they will demand their turn. And the Baby—he’s -smashing his toys now, and in a few years -he’ll be smashing windows, and in a few more -he’ll be gambling like Clive and Harley. And -you can’t do anything about any of it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My child,” he said, “I don’t want you to -worry about such things——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, you want to do all the worrying yourself. -But, Papa, I have to make my life of some -use. Since I can’t earn money, I’ve been thinking -that perhaps the most sensible thing would -be for me to marry some rich man, and then -help all my family and friends.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia,” protested the Major, “I don’t like -<span class='pageno' id='Page_332'>332</span>one of my daughters to have such thoughts in -her mind. I don’t want a child of mine to marry -for money—there is no need of it, there never -will be!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not while you can sit up all night and worry -over accounts. But some day you won’t be -able to, Papa. I can see that you’re under a -strain, and yet I can’t get you to let me help -you. If you make sacrifices for me, why shouldn’t -I make them for you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not that kind of a sacrifice, my child. It’s -a terrible thing for a woman to marry for -money.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you really think so, Papa? So many -women do it. Are they all bad, and are they all -unhappy?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Thus Sylvia—trying to do her duty, and keep -her mind occupied. They got back home, and -she found new diversions—Castleman Lysle had -been feeding himself in the kitchen, and had -been picked up black in the face with convulsions. -This, you understand, was one of the features of -life at Castleman Hall; one baby had been lost -that way, since which time “Miss Margaret” -always fainted when it occurred. As poor Aunt -Varina had not the physical strength for such -emergencies, Sylvia had to get a tub of hot -water, and hold the child in it—while some one else -held a spoon in his mouth, in order that he might -not chew his tongue to pieces!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Thus the afternoon passed busily, and in the -evening was the spring dance of the Young -<span class='pageno' id='Page_333'>333</span>Matrons’ Cotillion Club. Sylvia absolutely had -to go to that, in order to dance with Douglas -van Tuiver and atone for her rudeness. She -had promised it by way of pacifying Aunt Nannie; -and also her father had made plans to accompany -her again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So she put on a new “cloth of silver” gown -which she had bought in New York, and drank -a “toddy” of the Major’s mixing, and sallied -forth upon his arm. There were lights and music, -happy faces, cheery greetings—so she was uplifted, -dreaming of happiness again. And then -came the most dreadful collapse of all.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had strolled out upon the veranda with -Stanley Pendleton. Feeling chilly, she sent her -partner in for a wrap; and then suddenly came -a voice—<em>his</em> voice!</p> - -<p class='c011'>If it had been his ghost, Sylvia could not -have been more startled. She whirled about and -stared, and saw him—standing in the semidarkness -of the garden, close to the railing of -the veranda. It had rained that day, and the -roads were deep in mire, and he had ridden far. -His clothing was splashed and his hair in disarray; -as for his face—never had Sylvia seen -such grief on a human countenance.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia!” he whispered. “Sylvia!” She could -only gaze at him, dumb. “Sylvia, give me one -minute! I have come here to tell you——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He stopped, his voice breaking with intensity -of feeling. “Oh!” she gasped. “You ought -not to be here!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_334'>334</span>“I had to see you!” he exclaimed. “There -was no other way——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But he got no farther. There was a step -behind Sylvia, and she turned, and at the same -moment heard the terrible voice of her father—“What -does this mean?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She sprang to him with a quick cry. “Papa!” -She caught his arm with her hands, trying to -stop what she feared he might do. “No, Papa, -<em>no</em>!” For one moment the Major stood staring -at the apparition in the darkness.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She could feel him trembling with fury. “Sir, -how dare you approach my daughter?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Papa, <em>no</em>!” exclaimed Sylvia, again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sir, do you wish to make it necessary for me -to shoot you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then Frank answered, his voice low and vibrant -with pain. “Major Castleman, I would be -grateful to you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other glared at him for a moment; then he -said, “If you wish to die, sir, choose some way -that will not drag my daughter to disgrace.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Frank’s gaze had turned to the girl. “Sylvia,” -he exclaimed, “I tell you that I went to that -place——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Stop!” almost shouted the Major.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Major Castleman,” said Frank, “Allow me -to speak to your daughter. It has been——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was clutching her father in terror. She -knew that he had a weapon, and was on the -point of using it; she knew also that she had -not the physical force to prevent him. She cried -hysterically, “Go! Go away!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_335'>335</span>And Frank looked at her—a last look, that she -never forgot all the days of her life. “You mean -it, Sylvia?” he asked, his voice breaking.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I mean it!” she answered.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Forever?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>For the smallest part of a second she hesitated. -“Forever!” commanded her father; and she -echoed, “Forever!” Frank turned, without another -word, and was gone in the darkness; and -Sylvia fell into her father’s arms, convulsed with -an agony that shook her frame.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 12</h3> - -<p class='c010'>They got her home, where her first action, in -spite of her exhaustion, was to insist upon seeing -her Uncle Mandeville. So determined, so vehement -she was, that it was necessary to rout the -worthy gentleman out from a poker-game at two -o’clock in the morning. There had been other -witnesses of what Frank had done, and Sylvia -knew that her uncle must hear; so she told him -herself, with her arms about him, clinging to him -in frenzy, and beseeching him to give her his -word of honor that he would not carry out his -threat against Frank Shirley.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was not an easy word to get; she would -probably have failed, had it not been for the -Major. He could see the force in her argument -that a shooting-affair would only serve to publish -<span class='pageno' id='Page_336'>336</span>the matter to the world, and make it seem more -serious. After all, from the family’s point of -view, the one thing to be desired was to make -certain that there would be no further communication -between the two. And Sylvia was willing -to assure them of that, she declared. She rushed -to her desk, and with trembling fingers wrote a -note to “Mr. Frank Shirley,” informing him -that the scene which had just occurred had been -intolerable to her, and requesting him to perform -her one last service—to write a note to her -father to the effect that he would make no further -attempt to communicate with her. The Major, -after some discussion, decided that he would -accept this as a settlement; and he being the -elder brother, his word was law with Mandeville—at -least so long as Mandeville was sober.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I remember Sylvia’s account of the state of -exhaustion in which she found herself after this -ordeal; how for two days she had the sensation -that her mind was breaking up. Yet—a circumstance -worth noting—at no time did she blame -those who had put her through this ordeal. She -could not blame the men of her family; if any -one were at fault, it was herself, for being at the -mercy of her emotions, and capable of a secret -longing to have parleyings with a man who had -dragged her name in the mire. You see, Sylvia -believed in her heritage. She was proud of the -Castlemans—and apparently you could not have -rare, aristocratic virtues without also having -terrifying vices. If one’s men-folk got drunk and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_337'>337</span>shot people, one’s consolation was that at least -they did it in a bold and striking and “high-spirited” -way.</p> - -<p class='c011'>You will perhaps find yourself impatient with -the girl at this stage of her story. I recall my -own frantic protests while I listened. What a -cruel, needless tragedy! I cried out for the evidence -of some gleam of sense on the part of any -one person concerned. Surely Sylvia, knowing -Frank, must have come to doubt that he could -have been unfaithful to her! Surely, with the -hints she got at that meeting, she must have -realized that there was something more to be -said! Surely he, on his part, would have found -some way of getting an interview with her, or -at least of sending an explanation by some friend! -Surely he would never have given up until he -had done that!</p> - -<p class='c011'>I have claimed for Sylvia the possession of clear-sightedness. -She displayed it when it was a question -of revising her religion, she displayed it when -it was a question of managing her family, and -obtaining permission to be engaged to a convict’s -son. But, if you look to see her display anything -of that sort in the present emergency, you will -look in vain. Sylvia could be bold in a matter -of theology, she could be bold in a matter of -love, but she could not possibly be bold in a matter -of a house of prostitution. If I were to give -you illustrations of the completeness of her ignorance -upon the subject of sex, you would simply -not be able to believe what I told; and not only -<span class='pageno' id='Page_338'>338</span>was she ignorant, she could not conceive that it -was possible for her to be other than ignorant. -She could not conceive that it was possible for -a pure-minded girl to talk about such a subject -with any human being, man or woman.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I doubt very much, if it had come to an actual -test, whether Sylvia would have been capable of -marrying against her family’s will. She had -opposed them vehemently, but this was because -she knew that she was right, and that they, in -their inmost hearts, knew it also. The Major -and “Miss Margaret” were good and generous-hearted -people, and they could not sincerely condemn -Frank Shirley for his father’s offense. But -how different it was now! In the present matter -she faced the phalanx of the family, not on -an open field where she could manœuvre and -outwit them—but in a place of darkness and -terror, where she dared not stir a foot alone.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And let me tell you also that you mistake -Frank Shirley if you count upon the mere physical -fact that he could have got an explanation to -Sylvia. It was not easy for him to explain about -such matters to the woman he loved; and if you -think it was easy, you are a modern, matter-of-fact -person, not understanding the notions of an -old-fashioned Southerner. The simple fact was -that when Frank wrote to Harriet Atkinson, to -ask her to hear his plea, he felt that he was -doing something desperate and unprecedented; -and when Harriet wrote, coldly refusing to have -anything to do with the matter, he felt that she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_339'>339</span>had rebuked him for his boldness. As for the last -effort he had made to see Sylvia, it was the act -of a man driven frantic by love—a man willing -to sacrifice his life, and even his self-respect. -I have portrayed Frank poorly if I have not made -you realize that from the first hour he approached -Sylvia with a sense of inferiority and of guilt; -that he had remained her lover against the incessant -protests of his pride. People are making -money rapidly these days in the South, and so -becoming like us “Yankees”; yet it will be a -long time, I think, before a Southerner without -money will make love to a rich woman without -feeling in his heart that he is acting the knave.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 13</h3> - -<p class='c010'>There came another long struggle for Sylvia, -another climb out of the pit. For the sake -of her father, she could not delay; as soon as -she was able to move about, she was out among -her roses again, and reading Alexander Stephens -in the evenings. Within a week she had been -to a card-party and a picnic, and also had received -a call from Douglas van Tuiver.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Never before had Sylvia worn such an ethereal -aspect; he was gentle, even reverent, in his -manner to her. He had a particular reason for -calling to see her, he said. He owned a yacht, -considered quite a beautiful vessel; it was now -<span class='pageno' id='Page_340'>340</span>in commission, but idle, and he had taken the -liberty of ordering it to the Southern coast, and -wished to beg her to use it to bring the color -back into her cheeks. She might take her Aunt -Varina, her sister—a whole party, if she chose—and -cruise up the coast, to Maine and the St. -Lawrence, or over in the North Sea—wherever -her fancy suggested. He would go with her and -take charge, if she would permit—or he would -stay behind, and be happy in the knowledge that -she was recovering her health.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Of course, Sylvia could not accept such a favor; -she insisted that it was impossible, in spite of all -his arguments and urgings. She thanked him so -cordially, however, that he went away quite -happy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then came Mrs. Chilton, and there was a conclave -of the ladies. Why should she not accept -the offer? It was the very thing she needed to -divert her mind, and get her out of this disgraceful -state.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Aunt Nannie,” cried the girl, “how can you -think of wanting me to accept such a gift from -a comparative stranger? It must cost hundreds -of dollars a month to run such a yacht!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“About five thousand dollars a month, my -dear,” said the other, quietly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was aghast; once in a while even a fiery -revolutionist like herself was awe-stricken by the -actuality of Royalty. “I don’t want things like -that,” she said, at last. “I want to stay quietly -at home and help Papa.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_341'>341</span>“You need a change,” declared the other. -“So long as you are here you are never safe from -that evil man; and anyway you are surrounded -by reminders of him. A yachting-trip would -force you to put your mind on other things. -The sea-air would do you good; and if you took -Celeste with you—think what a treat for her!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Sylvia, please do!” cried Celeste.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia looked at her sister. “You’d like to go?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, how can you ask?” she replied. “It -would be heaven!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia said that she would think it over. But -in reality she wanted to think about something -else. She waited until they left her alone with -her sister, and then she said, “You like Mr. van -Tuiver, don’t you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How could I fail to like him?” asked Celeste.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other tried to draw her out. Why did -she like him? He had such beautiful manners, -such dignity—there were no loose ends about -him. He had been everywhere, met everybody -of consequence; compared with him the men at -home seemed like country-fellows. It was that -indescribable thing called elegance, said Celeste, -gravely. She could not understand her sister’s -attitude at all; she thought Sylvia treated van -Tuiver outrageously, and her eyes flashed a -danger-signal as she said it. It was a woman’s -right to reject a man’s advances if she chose to; -but she ought not to humiliate him, when his -only offense was admiring her to excess.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I only wish it was you he admired,” said -Sylvia, who was in a gentle mood.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_342'>342</span>“No chance of that,” remarked the other, with -a touch of bitterness in her voice. “He has no -eyes or ears for anybody else when you are -about.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m going to try to lend him eyes and ears,” -responded Sylvia. For that was the idea that -had occurred to her—van Tuiver must be persuaded -to transfer his interest to Celeste! Celeste -would marry him; she would marry him without -the least hesitation or distress; and then the elder -sister might settle down with her family and her -rose-gardens and her Confederate History!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 14</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia became quite excited over this scheme. -When van Tuiver asked permission to call again, -she was glad to say yes; but she kept Celeste -with her, guiding the conversation so as to show -off her best qualities. But alas, “Little Sister” -had no qualities to be shown off when van Tuiver -was about! She was so much impressed by him -that she trembled with stage fright. Usually a -bright and vivacious girl, although somewhat -hard and shallow, she was now dumb, abject, -a booby! Sylvia raged at her inwardly, and -when van Tuiver had taken his departure, she -said, “Celeste, how can you expect to impress -a man if you let him see you are afraid to breathe -in his presence?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_343'>343</span>Tears of humiliation came into her sister’s -eyes. “What’s the use of talking about my -impressing him? Can’t you see that he pays no -more attention to me than if I were a doll?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“<em>Make</em> him pay attention to you!” cried the -other. “Shock him, hurt him, make him angry—do -anything but put yourself under his feet!” -She went on to give a lecture on that awe-inspiring -phenomenon, the Harvard manner; trying to -prove to her sister that it was an idol with feet -of clay, which would topple if one attacked it -resolutely. She told the story of her own meeting -with King Douglas the First, and how she -had been able to subdue him with cheap effrontery. -But she soon discovered that her arguments -were thrown away upon Celeste, who was simply -shocked by her story, and had no more the desire -than she had the power to subdue van Tuiver. -At first Sylvia had thought it was mere awe of -his millions, but gradually she realized that it -was something far more serious—something quite -tragic. Celeste had fallen in love with Royalty!</p> - -<p class='c011'>But still Sylvia could not give up the struggle. -It would have been such a marvelous solution of -her problem! She let van Tuiver call as often -as he wanted to; but she became, all at once, a -phenomenon of sisterly affection. She took -Celeste horseback riding with them—and Celeste -rode well. If van Tuiver asked to go automobiling, -she found shrewd excuses for having Celeste go -also. But in the end she had to give up—because -of the “English system.” Van Tuiver did not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_344'>344</span>want Celeste, and was so brutally unaware of -her existence that Celeste came home with tears -of humiliation in her eyes. Sylvia went off by -herself and shed tears also; she hated van Tuiver -and his damnable manners!</p> - -<p class='c011'>She realized suddenly to what extent he was -boring her. He came the next day, and spent -the better part of an hour talking to her about -his experiences among the elect in various parts -of the world. He had been shooting last fall -upon the estates of the Duke of Something in -Scotland. You went out in an automobile, and -took a seat in an arm-chair, and had several score -“beaters” drive tame pheasants towards you; -you had two men to load your guns, and you shot -the birds as they rose; but you could not shoot -more than so many hundred of a morning, because -the recoil of the gun gave you a headache. -The Duke had a couple of guns which were something -special—he valued them at a thousand -guineas the pair.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mr. van Tuiver,” said the girl, suddenly, -“there is something I want to say to you. I -have been meaning to say it for some time. -I think you ought not to stay here any longer.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His face lost suddenly its expression of complacency. -“Why, Miss Sylvia!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I want to deal with you frankly. If you are -here for any reason not connected with me, why -all right; but if you are here on my account, -I ought not to leave you under any misapprehension.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_345'>345</span>He tried hard to recover his poise. “I had -begun to hope”—he began. “You—are you sure -it is true?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am sure. You realize of course—it’s been -obvious from the outset that my Aunt Nannie -has entered into a sort of partnership with you, -to help you persuade me to marry you. And -of course there are others of my friends—even -members of my family, perhaps—who would be -glad to have me do it. Also, you must know that -I’ve been trying to persuade myself.” Sylvia -lowered her eyes; she could not look at him as -she said this. “I thought perhaps it was my -duty—the only useful thing I could do with my -life—to marry a rich man, and use his money to -help the people I love. So I tried to persuade -myself. But it’s impossible—I could not, <em>could</em> -not do it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She paused. “Miss Sylvia,” he ventured, -“can you be sure—perhaps if you married me, -you might——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No!” she cried. “Please don’t say any more. -I know you ought not to stay! I could never -marry you, and you are throwing away your time -here. You ought to go!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a silence. “Miss Sylvia,” he began, -finally, “this is like a death-sentence to me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know,” she said, “and I’m sorry. But -there’s no help for it. Putting off only makes it -worse for you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t think about me,” he said. “I’ve no -place to go, and nothing better I can be doing. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_346'>346</span>If you’ll let me stay, and try to be of some -service”—</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” she declared, “you can be of no service. -I want to be alone, with my father and the people -I love; and it is only distressing to me to see you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He rose, and stood looking at her, crestfallen. -“That is all you have to say to me, Miss Sylvia?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That is all. If you wish to show your regard -for me, you will go away and never think of me -again.”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 15</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Van Tuiver went away; but within a week he -was back, writing Sylvia notes to say that he must -see her, that he only sought her friendship. And -then came Aunt Nannie, and there was a family -conference—ending not altogether to Sylvia’s -advantage. Aunt Nannie took the same view -as Mrs. Winthrop, that one had no right to -humiliate a man who carried such vast responsibilities -upon his shoulders. Sylvia recurred to -her old phrase “Royalty”—and was taken aback -when her aunt wanted to know just what were -her objections to Royalty. Had she not often -heard her Uncle Mandeville say that there ought -to be a king in America to counteract the influence -of Yankee demagogs? That rather took the wind -out of Sylvia’s sails; for she had a great respect -for the political wisdom of her uncles, and really -could give no reason why a king might not be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_347'>347</span>a beneficent phenomenon. All she could reply -was that she did not like this particular king, and -would not see him. When Aunt Nannie insisted -that van Tuiver had been a guest under her roof, -and that Sylvia’s action had been an unheard of -discourtesy, the girl said that she was willing to -apologize, either to her aunt or to van Tuiver—but -that nothing could induce her to let him call -again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>King Douglas went off to Newport, where the -family of Dorothy Cortlandt had its granite cottage; -and so for two months Sylvia enjoyed peace. -She read to her father, and played cards with -him, and took him driving, exercising her social -graces to keep him from drinking too many -toddies. I could wish there were space to recite -some of the comical little dramas that were played -round the good Major’s efforts to cheat himself -and his daughter, and exceed the number of -toddies which his physician allowed to him!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aunt Nannie being away at the coast, it was -easier for the girl to avoid social engagements, -especially with the excuse that her father’s health -was poor, and his plantation duties engrossing. -There had been an overflow in the early spring, -just at planting-time, and so there was no cotton -that year. Fences had been swept away, cattle -drowned, and negro-cabins borne off to parts -unknown. The Major had three large plantations, -whose negroes must be kept over the year, -just as if they were working. Also there were -small farms, rented to negro tenants who had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_348'>348</span>lost everything; they had to be taken care of—one -must “hold on to one’s niggers.” “Why -don’t you let them raise corn?” van Tuiver had -inquired; to which the Major answered, “My -negroes could no more raise corn than they could -raise ostriches.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So there was much money to be borrowed, and -money was “tight.” Everybody wanted it from -the local banks, and as this was the second bad -year, the local banks were in an ungenerous mood. -Worse than that, there were troubles vaguely -rumored from “Wall Street.” What this meant -to Sylvia was that her father sat up at night and -worried over his books, and could not be got to -talk of his affairs.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But what distressed her most was that there -was no sign of any effort to curtail the family’s -expenditure. Aunt Varina and the children were -at the summer home in the mountains, and so -there were two establishments to be kept going. -Also Celeste was giving house parties, and ordering -new things from New York, in spite of the -fact that she had come home from school with -several trunkloads of splendor. The Major’s -family all signed his name to checks, and all -these checks were like chickens which came home -to roost in the pigeon-holes in the office-desk.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In the fall the Major’s health weakened under -the strain, and the doctor insisted that he must -go away at all hazards. Uncle Mandeville had -taken a place at one of the Gulf Coast resorts, -and Sylvia and her father were urged to come -<span class='pageno' id='Page_349'>349</span>there—just in time for the yachting regatta, -wrote the host. They came; and about two -weeks later a great ocean-going yacht steamed -majestically into the harbor, and the dismayed -Sylvia read in the next morning’s paper that -Mr. Douglas van Tuiver, who had been cruising -in the Gulf with a party of friends, had come to -attend the races!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I won’t see him!” she declared; and Uncle -Mandeville, who was in command here, backed -her up, and offered to shoot the fellow if he molested -her. This, of course, was in fun, but -Uncle Mandeville was serious in his support of -his niece, maintaining that the Castlemans needed -no Yankee princeling to buttress their fortunes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She fully meant not to see him. But he had -brought allies to make sure of her. That afternoon -an automobile drew up at the door, and -Sylvia, who was on the gallery, saw a lady -descending, waving a hand to her. She stared, -dumb-founded. It was Mrs. Winthrop!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Winthrop—clad in spotless white from -hat to shoetips, looking sunburned and picturesque, -and surprisingly festive. No one was in -sight but Sylvia, and so she had a free field for -her wizardry. She came slowly up the gallery-steps, -and took the outstretched hands in hers, -and gazed. How much she read in the pale, -thin face—and what deeps of feeling welled up -in her!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, let me help you!” she murmured. And -nothing more.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_350'>350</span>“Thank you!” said Sylvia at last.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My dryad!” Quick tears of sympathy started -in the great lady’s eyes, and came running down -her sunburned cheeks, and had to be brushed -away with a tiny Irish lace handkerchief.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Believe me, Sylvia, I too have known grief!” -she began, after a minute. Sylvia was deeply -touched; for what grief could be more fascinating -than that which lurked in the dream-laden eyes -before her? She found herself suddenly recalling -an irreverent phrase of “Tubby” Bates’: “The -beautiful unhappy wife of a railroad-builder!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They sat down. “Sylvia,” said Mrs. Winthrop, -“you need diversion. Come out on the -yacht!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” she replied, “I don’t want to meet Mr. -van Tuiver again.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I appreciate your motives,” said the other. -“But you may surely trust to my discretion, -Sylvia. Mr. van Tuiver has recovered himself, -and there is no longer any need for you to avoid -him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was a much changed man, went on “Queen -Isabella”; so chastened that his best friends -hardly knew him. He had become a most fascinating -figure, a sort of superior Werther; his -melancholy became him. He had been really -admirable in his behavior, and Sylvia owed it to -him to give him a chance to show her that he -could control himself, to show his friends that she -had not dismissed him with contempt. There -was a charming party on board the yacht; it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_351'>351</span>included van Tuiver’s aunt, Mrs. Harold Cliveden, -of whom Sylvia had surely heard; also her niece, -Miss Vaillant, and Lord Howard Annersley, who -was engaged to her. Sylvia had probably not -seen the accounts of this affair, but it was most -romantic. The girl pleaded that her father was -ill and needed her. But he might come too, said -Mrs. Winthrop; the diversion would benefit him. -So at last Sylvia consented to go to lunch.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 16</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Van Tuiver came to fetch them on the following -day. He looked his new rôle of a leisure-class -Werther, and acted up to it quite touchingly. -He was perfect in his attitude toward his guests, -carefully omitting all reference to personal matters, -and confining his conversation to the yachting-trip -and the party on board—especially to -Lord Howard. Sylvia said that she had never -met a Lord before, and it would seem like a fairy-story -to her. The other was careful to explain -that Lord Howard was not a fortune-hunter, but -a friend of his. So Sylvia furbished up her -weapons—but put most of them away when she -got on board, and found out what a very commonplace -young man his lordship was.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was necessary to extend a return invitation, -so Uncle Mandeville took the party automobiling -along the coast, and spread a sumptuous picnic-luncheon. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_352'>352</span>Then the next day Sylvia let herself -be inveigled on a moonlight sailing-trip; and so -it came about that she was cornered in the bow -of the boat, with van Tuiver at her side, declaring -in trembling accents that he had tried to -forget her, that he could not live without her, -that if she did not give him some hope he would -take his life.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was intensely annoyed, and answered him -in monosyllables, and took refuge with Lord -Howard, who showed signs of forgetting that he -was already in the midst of a romance. She -vowed that she would accept no more invitations, -and that van Tuiver would never deceive her in -that way again. This last with angry emphasis -to Mrs. Winthrop, who, perceiving that something -had gone wrong, took her aside as the party -was breaking up.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Queen Isabella’s” lovely face showed intense -distress. “Oh, these men!” she cried. “Sylvia, -what can we do with them?” And when Sylvia, -taken aback by this appeal, was silent, the other -continued, pleadingly, “You must be loyal to -your sex, and help me! We all have to manage -men!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But what do you want me to do?” asked the -girl. “Marry him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She meant this for the extreme of sarcasm; -and great was her surprise when Mrs. Winthrop -caught her hand and exclaimed, “My dear, -I want you to do just that!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But then—what becomes of my fineness of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_353'>353</span>spirit?” cried Sylvia, with still more withering -sarcasm.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Said “Queen Isabella,” “The man loves you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know—but I don’t love him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He loves you deeply, Sylvia. I think you will -really have to marry him.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In spite of the fact that I don’t love him in -the least?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The other smiled her gentlest smile. “I want -you to let me come and talk to you about these -matters.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Mrs. Winthrop, I don’t want to be talked -to about marrying Mr. van Tuiver!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I want to explain things to you, Sylvia. -You must grant me that favor—please!” In the -hurry of departure, Sylvia gave no reply, and -the other took silence for consent.</p> - -<p class='c011'>By what device van Tuiver could have reconciled -Mrs. Winthrop, Sylvia could not imagine; -but when the great lady called, the next afternoon, -she was as ardent on the one side as she -had formerly been on the other. She painted -glowing pictures of the splendors which awaited -the future Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver. The -courts of Europe would be open to her, her life -would be one triumphal pageant. Also, taking -a leaf out of “Tubby” Bates’ note-book, “Queen -Isabella” discoursed upon the good that Sylvia -would be able to do with her husband’s wealth.</p> - -<p class='c011'>This interview with Mrs. Winthrop was important -for another reason; it was the means of -setting at rest what doubts were lurking in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_354'>354</span>Sylvia’s mind as to her treatment of Frank -Shirley. The other evidently had the matter -in mind, for Sylvia needed only to allude to it, -whereupon Mrs. Winthrop proceeded, with the -utmost tact and understanding, to give her exactly -the information she was craving. The dreadful -story was surely true—everybody at Harvard -knew it. All that one heard in defense was -that it was a shame the story had been spread -abroad; for there were men, said Mrs. Winthrop, -who did these shameful things in secret, and -had no remorse save when they were found -out. Without saying it in plain words, she -caused Sylvia to have the impression that such -evils were to be found among men of low origin -and ignominious destinies: a suggestion which -started in Sylvia a brand-new train of thought. -Could it be that <em>this</em> was the basis of social discrimination—the -secret reason why her parents -were so careful what men she met? It threw -quite a new light upon the question of college -snobbery, if one pictured the club-men as selected -and set apart because of their chaste lives. It -made quite a difference in one’s attitude towards -the “exclusiveness” of van Tuiver—if one might -think of him, as Mrs. Winthrop apparently did -think of him, as having been guarded from contamination, -from the kind of commonness to -which Frank Shirley had permitted himself to -stoop.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_355'>355</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 17</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Van Tuiver of course wrote letters of apology; -but Sylvia would not answer them nor see him. -As the yacht still lingered in the harbor, she -became restless, and was glad when the Major -decided to return home to the rose-gardens and -Alexander Stephens. Soon afterwards she learned -that the yachting-party had returned to New -York; but in a couple of weeks “King Douglas” -was at Aunt Nannie’s again, annoying her with -his letters and his importunities.</p> - -<p class='c011'>By this time everybody in Castleman County -knew the situation; it had become a sort of -State romance—or perhaps it would be better -to say a State scandal. Sylvia became aware of -a new force, vaguer, but more compelling even -than that of the family—the power of public -opinion. It was all very well for a girl to have -whims and to indulge them; to be coquettish -and wayward—naturally. But to keep it up -for so long a time, to carry the joke so far—well, -it was unusual, and in somewhat questionable -taste. It was a fact that every person in -Castleman County shone by the reflected glory -of Sylvia’s great opportunity; and everybody felt -himself—or more especially herself—cheated of -this glory by the girl’s eccentricity. You may -take this for a joke, but let me tell you that -public opinion is a terrible agent, which has -driven mighty princes to madness, and captains -of predatory finance to suicide.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_356'>356</span>All this time Sylvia was thinking—thinking. -Wherever she went, whatever she did, she was -debating one problem in her soul. As I don’t -want anyone to misunderstand her or despise -her, I must try to tell, briefly and simply, what -were her thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had come to hate life. Everything that -had ever been sweet to her seemed to have turned -to ashes in her mouth. The social game, for which -she had been trained with so much care and at -so great expense, upon which she had entered -with such zest three years before—the game had -become a sordid mockery to her. It was a chase -after men, an elaboration of devices to gain and -hold their attention. To be decked out and -sent forth to perform tricks—no, it was an utterly -intolerable thing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Her whole being was one cry to stay at home -with the people she loved. Here were her true -friends, who would always stand by her, who -would be a bulwark against the ugliness of life. -A wonderful thing it was, after all, the family; -a kind of army of mutual defense against a -hostile, predatory world. “Life is a case of dog -eat dog,” had been the words of Uncle Mandeville. -“You have to eat or be eaten.” And -Uncle Mandeville had seen so much of life!</p> - -<p class='c011'>So the one high duty that Sylvia could see -was to stand by and maintain the family. And -there were increasing signs that this family was -in peril. More and more plainly was worry to -be read in the face of the Major; there were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_357'>357</span>even signs that his worry had infected others. -Curious, incredible as it might seem, “Miss Margaret” -was trying to economize! She wandered -over her exquisite velvet carpets in a faded last -year’s gown, and a pair of rusty last year’s slippers; -nor could she be persuaded to purchase -new—until the Major himself sent off an order -to her costumer in New Orleans!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Also Aunt Varina had taken to fretting over -the housekeeping extravagances. So many idle -negroes eating their heads off in the kitchen! -Such grocery and laundry bills, beyond all reason -and sense! The echoes of her protest reached -even to the tradesmen in the town, who heard -with dismay that at Castleman Hall they were -counting the supplies, and going over the bills, -and refusing to pay for goods which had not -been sent, or had been stolen by the negroes -employed to deliver them!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Aunt Mandy,” the black cook, had once -been heard to declare that Castleman Hall was -not a home, but “a free hotel.” A hotel with -great airy rooms, huge four-poster beds, and quaint -old “dressers” and “armours” of hand-carved -mahogany! No wonder the guests came trooping! -“We ought to move into one of the smaller -houses on the plantation!” declared Aunt Varina; -and what a horror to have such an idea mentioned -in the family. Fear assailed “Miss Margaret”—what -if the neighbors were to hear of it? Everybody -knew that there had been droughts and -floods, and somebody might suspect that these -<span class='pageno' id='Page_358'>358</span>had touched the Castlemans! Mrs. Castleman -decided forthwith that it would be necessary to -give a big reception; and the moment this was -announced came a cry from Celeste—why, if her -mother could give a reception, could she not -have the little “electric” for which she had begged -all summer?</p> - -<p class='c011'>Celeste was going back to Miss Abercrombie’s -in a week or two. Going back to Fifth Avenue -and its shops—to open accounts at any of them -she chose, and sign her father’s name to checks, -just as Sylvia had done. It would have been a -painful matter to curtail this privilege, for Sylvia -was the favorite daughter, and Celeste knew it, -and was bitterly resentful of every sign of -favoritism. And yet the privilege was more -dangerous in the case of Celeste, who was careless -to the point of wickedness. You might see -her step out of an expensive ball-gown at night, -and leave it a crumpled ring upon the floor until -the maid hung it up in the morning; you might -see her kick off her tight, high-heeled slippers, -and walk about the room for hours in her stockinged -feet—thus wearing out a pair of new silk -hose that had cost five dollars, and kicking them -to one side to be carried off by the negroes. -Celeste would permit nothing but silk upon her -exquisite person, and was given to lounging about -in oriental luxuriance, while Peggy and Maria -gazed at her awe-stricken, as at some princess -in a fairy-story book. Sylvia saw with bewilderment -that everywhere about her it was the evil -example which seemed to be prevailing.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_359'>359</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 18</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia could not plan to stay at home and -share in this plundering of her father. She must -marry; yet when it came to the question of marrying, -the one positive fact in her consciousness -was that she could never love any man. No -matter how long she might wait, no matter how -much energy she might expend in hesitating and -agonizing, sooner or later she would give herself -in marriage to some man whom she did not love. -And after all, there was very little choice among -them, so far as she could see. Some were more -entertaining than others; but it was true of -everyone that if he touched her hand in token -of desire, she shrunk from him with repugnance.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The time came when to her cool reason this -shrinking wore the aspect of a weakness. When -so much happiness for all those she loved depended -upon the conquering of it, what folly -not to conquer it! Here was the obverse of that -distrust of “blind passion” which they had -taught her. Whether it was an emotion towards -or away from a man, was it a thing which should -dominate a woman’s life? Was it not rather a -thing for her to beat into whatever shape her -good sense directed?</p> - -<p class='c011'>Seated one day in her mother’s room, Sylvia -asked, quite casually, “Mamma, how often do -women marry the men they love?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, what makes you ask that?” inquired -the other.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_360'>360</span>“I don’t know, Mamma. I was just thinking.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Margaret” considered. “Not often, my -child; certainly not, if you mean their first love.” -Then, after a pause, she added, “I think perhaps -it’s well they don’t. Most all those I know who -married their first love are unhappy now.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why is that, Mamma?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They don’t seem able to judge wisely when -they’re young and blinded by passion.” “Miss -Margaret” drifted into reminiscences—beginning -with the case of Aunt Varina, who was in the -next room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It seems such a terrible thing,” said Sylvia. -“Love is—well, it makes you want to trust it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Something generally happens,” replied the -other. “A woman has to wait, and in the end -she marries for quite other reasons.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And yet they manage to make out!” said the -girl, half to herself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Children come, dear. Children take their -time, and they forget. I remember so well your -Uncle Barry’s wife—she visited us in her courtship -days, and she used to wake up in the middle -of the night, and whisper to me in a trembling -voice, ‘Margaret, tell me—<em>shall</em> I marry him?’ -I think she went to the altar without really having -her mind made up; and yet, you see, she’s one -of the happiest women I know—they are perfectly -devoted to each other.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia went away to ponder these things. The -next day Aunt Varina happened to talk about -her life-tragedy, and told Sylvia of the death of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_361'>361</span>her young love; and later on came Uncle Barry’s -wife, traveling a hundred miles for the sake of -a casual conversation upon the state of happiness -vouchsafed to those who chose their husbands in -accordance with reason. All of which was managed -with such delicacy and tact that no one but -an utterly depraved person like Sylvia would -ever have suspected that it was planned.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was one person from whom the girl -hoped for an unworldly opinion; that was the -Bishop. She went to see him one day, and -casually brought up the subject of van Tuiver—a -thing which was easy enough to do, since the -man was a guest in the house.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia,” said her uncle, at once, “why don’t -you marry him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The girl was astounded. “Why, Uncle Basil!” -she exclaimed. “Would you advise me to?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nothing would make me happier than the -news that you had so decided.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was at a loss for words. She had -thought that here was one person who would -surely not be influenced by Royalty. “Tell me -why,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Because, my child,” the Bishop answered, -“he’s a Christian gentleman.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh! So it’s that!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Sylvia. You don’t know how often I -have prayed that you might have a religious man -for a husband.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia said no more. Her thoughts flew back -to Boston, to an incident which had caused her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_362'>362</span>amusement at the time. She had told “Tubby” -Bates that she would go motoring with van -Tuiver on a Sunday morning; and the answer -was that on Sunday mornings van Tuiver passed -the collection-plate in a Very High Church. -Bates went on to explain—in his irreverent -fashion—that van Tuiver’s great-uncle had been -of the opinion that the only hope for a young -man with so much money was to turn him over -to the Lord; so for his grand-nephew’s head-tutor -he had engaged a clergyman recommended by -an English bishop. And now here was another -bishop recommending van Tuiver as an instrument -for the converting of his wayward niece!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia went away, and spent more time in -doubting and fearing. But there was a limit -to the time she could take, because the man was -practically in her home, moving heaven and -earth to get a chance to see her, to urge his suit, -to implore her for mercy, if for nothing more. -And truly he was a pitiable object; if a woman -wanted a husband whom she could twist round -her finger, of whom she could be absolute mistress -all her days, here surely was the husband at -hand! The voice of old Lady Dee called out to -her from the land of ghosts that her victory and -her crown were here.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The end came suddenly, being due to a far-off -cause. There was a panic in “Wall Street”; -an event of which Sylvia heard vaguely, but -without paying heed, not dreaming that so remote -an event could concern her. One can consult -<span class='pageno' id='Page_363'>363</span>the financial year-books, and learn how many -business men went into bankruptcy as a result -of that panic, what properties had to be sold as -a result of it; but it has apparently not occurred -to any compiler of statistics to record the number -of daughters—daughters of poor men and -daughters of rich men—who had to be sold as -a result of it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The Major came home one afternoon and shut -himself in his study, and did not come to dinner. -Sylvia knew, by that subtle sixth sense whereby -things are known in families, that something -serious had happened. But she was not allowed -to see her father that day or night; and when -she finally did see him, she was dumb with horror. -He looked so yellow and ill—his hands trembled -as if palsied, and she knew by the cigar-stumps -scattered about the office, and the decanter of -brandy on top of the desk, that he had been up -the entire night at his books.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He would not tell her what was the matter; -he insisted, as usual, that it was “nothing.” -But evidently he had told his wife, for the poor -lady’s eyes were red with weeping. Later on in -the day Sylvia, chancing to answer the telephone, -received a message from Uncle Mandeville in -New Orleans, to the effect that he was “short,” -and powerless to help. Then she took her mother -aside and dragged the story from her. The local -bank was in trouble, and had called some of the -Major’s loans. The blow had almost killed him, -and they were in terror as to what he might do -to himself.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_364'>364</span>Mrs. Castleman saw her daughter go white, -and added, “Oh, if only you were not under the -spell of that dreadful man!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But what in the world has that to do with -it?” demanded the girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I curse the day that you met him!” wailed -the other; and then, as Sylvia repeated her -question—“What else is it that keeps you from -loving a good man, and being a help to your -father in this dreadful crisis?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mamma!” exclaimed Sylvia. She had never -expected to hear anything like this from the -gentle “Miss Margaret.” “Mamma, I couldn’t -stop the panic!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You could stop it so far as your father is -concerned,” was the answer.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia said no more at this time. But later -on, when Aunt Nannie came over, she heard the -remark that there were a few fortunate persons -who were not affected by panics; it had been -the maxim of van Tuiver’s ancestors to invest -in nothing but New York City real estate, and -to live upon their incomes. It was possible to -do this, even in New York, declared Mrs. Chilton, -if one’s income was several millions a year.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Aunt Nannie,” said the girl, gravely, “if I -promised to marry Mr. van Tuiver, could I ask -him to lend Papa money?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Whereat the other laughed. “My dear niece, -I assure you that to be the father of the future -Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver would be an asset in -the money market—an asset quite as good as a -plantation.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_365'>365</span> - <h3 class='c009'>§ 19</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia made up her mind that day; and as -usual, she was both clear-sighted and honest -about it. She would not deceive herself, and she -would not deceive van Tuiver. She sent for the -young millionaire, and taking him into another -room than the library, shut the door. “Mr. -van Tuiver,” she began, in a voice she tried hard -to keep firm, “you have been begging me to -marry you. You must know that I have been -trying to make up my mind.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Miss Sylvia?” he said, eagerly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I loved Frank Shirley,” she continued. “Now -I can never love again. But I know I shall have -to marry. My people would be unhappy if I -didn’t—so unhappy that I know I couldn’t bear -it. You see, the person I really love is my father.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She hesitated again. “Yes, Miss Sylvia,” he -repeated. She saw that his hands were trembling, -and that he was gazing at her with feverish -excitement.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I would do anything to make my father -happy,” she said. “And now—he’s in trouble—money-trouble. -Of course I know that if I married -you, I could help him. I’ve tried to bring -myself to do it. To-day I said, ‘I will!’ But -then, there is your side to be thought of.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My side, Miss Sylvia?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have to be honest with you. I can’t pretend -to be what I am not, or to feel what I don’t feel. -If I were to marry you, I should try to do my duty -<span class='pageno' id='Page_366'>366</span>as a wife; I should do everything in my power, -honestly and sincerely. But I don’t love you, -and I don’t see how I ever could love you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But—Miss Sylvia—” he exclaimed, hardly -able to speak for his agitation. “You mean that -you would marry me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I didn’t know if you would want to marry -me—when I had told you that.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was leaning forward, clenching and unclenching -his hands nervously. “I wouldn’t -mind—really!” he said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Even if you knew—” she began.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Miss Sylvia,” he cried, “I love you! Don’t -you understand how I love you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, but—if I couldn’t—if I didn’t love you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I would take what you could give me! I -love you so much, nothing would matter. I believe -that you would come to love me! If you would -only give me a chance, Miss Sylvia—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But suppose!” she protested. “Suppose you -found that I never did! Suppose—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But he was in no mood for troublesome suppositions. -Any way would do, he said. He -began stammering out his happiness, he fell upon -his knees before her and caught her hand, and -sought to kiss it. At first she made a move to -withdraw it; but then, with an inward effort, -she let him have it, and sat staring before her, -a mantle of scarlet stealing over her throat and -cheeks and forehead.</p> - -<p class='c011'>His hands were hot and moist, and quite horrible -to her. Once she looked at him, and an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_367'>367</span>image of him was stamped upon her mind indelibly. -It was an image quite different from -his ordinary rigid and sober mask; it was the -face of the man who had always got everything -he wanted. Sylvia did not formulate to herself -just what it was that frightened her so—except -for one phrase. She said it seemed to her that he -licked his lips!</p> - -<p class='c011'>He could hardly believe that the long siege -was ended, that the guerdon of victory was his. -She had to tell him several times that she would -marry him—that she was serious about it—that -would give him her word and would not take it -back. And then she had to prove it to him. He -was not content to clasp her hand, but sought to -embrace her; and when she found that she could -not stand it, she had to plead that it was not the -Southern custom. “You must give me a little -time to get used to the idea. I only made up my -mind to-day.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But you will change your mind!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, no, I won’t do that. That would be -wicked of me. I’ve decided what is right, and -I mean to do it. But you must be patient with -me at the beginning.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“When will you marry me?” he asked—evidently -none too confident in her resolution.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know. It ought to be soon. I must -talk with my parents about it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And where will it be?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s something I meant to speak of. It -can’t be here.” She hesitated. “I must tell you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_368'>368</span>the truth. There would be too much to remind -me. I couldn’t endure it. This may seem sentimental -to you, but I’m quite determined. But -I’ll have a hard time persuading my people—for -you see, they’re proud, and they’ll say the world -would expect you to marry me here. You must -stand by me in this.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Very well,” he said. “I will urge them to -have the wedding in New York.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause, then Sylvia added: “Another -thing, you must not breathe a word to -anyone of what I’ve told you—about the state -of my feelings—my reasons for deciding—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He smiled. “I’d hardly boast about that!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, but I mean you mustn’t tell your dearest -friend—not Aunt Nannie, not Mrs. Winthrop. -You see, I have to make my people believe that -I’m quite sure of my own mind. If my father -had any idea that I was thinking of him, then -he’d surely forbid it. If he ever found out afterwards, -he’d be wretched—and I’d have failed in -what I tried to do.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I understand,” said van Tuiver, humbly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s not going to be easy for me,” she added. -“I shall have to make everybody think I’m happy. -You must sympathize with me and help me—and -not mind if I seem unreasonable and full of -whims.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He said again that he understood, and would -do his best. He took her hand, very gently, and -held it in his; he started to kiss it, but when he -saw that she had no pleasure in the ceremony -<span class='pageno' id='Page_369'>369</span>he released it, parting from her with a formal -little speech of thanks. And such was the manner -of Sylvia’s second betrothal.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 20</h3> - -<p class='c010'>The engagement was announced at once, the -wedding to take place six weeks later in New -York. Just as Sylvia had anticipated, the -family made a great to-do over the place of the -ceremony; but finding that both she and van -Tuiver were immovable, they cast about for -some pretext to make a New York wedding seem -plausible to a suspicious world. They bethought -themselves of an almost forgotten relative of -the family, a step-sister of Lady Dee’s, who had -lived in haughty poverty for half a century in -the metropolis, and was now discovered in a -boarding-house in Harlem, and transported to -a suite of apartments in the Palace Hotel, to -become responsible for Sylvia’s desertion of -Castleman County. She had nothing to do but -be the hostess of her “dear niece”—since Mrs. -Harold Cliveden had kindly offered to see to the -practical details of the ceremonial.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The thrilling news of the betrothal spread, -quite literally with the speed of lightning; the -next day all America read of the romance. Since -the story of van Tuiver’s infatuation, his treason -to the “Gold Coast” and his forsaking of college, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_370'>370</span>has been the gossip of New York and Boston -clubs for months, there was a delightful story for -the “yellows,” of which they did not fail to make -use. Of course there was nothing of that kind -in the Southern papers, but they had their own -way of responding to the general excitement, of -gratifying the general curiosity.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was really startled by the furore she -had raised; she was as if caught up and whirled -away by a hurricane. Such floods of congratulations -as poured in! So many letters, from -people whose names she could barely remember! -Was there a single person in the county who -had a right to call, who did not call to wish her -joy? Even Celeste wrote from Miss Abercrombie’s—a -letter which brought the tears to her -sister’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Through all these events Sylvia played her -rôle; she played it day and night—not even in -the presence of her negro maid did she lay it -aside! The rôle of the blushing bride-to-be, -the ten-times-over happy heroine of a romance in -high-life! She must be smiling, radiant with -animation decorously repressed; she must go -about with the lucky bridegroom-to-be, and -receive the congratulations of those she knew, -and be unaware—yet not ungraciously unaware—of -the interest and the stares of those she did -not know. More difficult yet, she had to look -the Major in the eyes, and say to him that she -had come to realize that she was fond of “Mr. -van Tuiver,” and that she honestly believed she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_371'>371</span>would be happy with him. Since her mother -and Aunt Varina were dear sentimental Southern -ladies, incapable of taking a cold-blooded look -at a fact, she had to pretend even to them that -she was cradled in bliss.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At first van Tuiver was with her all the time, -pouring out the torrents of his happiness and -gratitude. But Aunt Nannie soon came to the -rescue here; Sylvia must not have the inconveniences -of matrimony until the knot had -actually been tied. Van Tuiver was ordered off -to New York, until Sylvia should come for the -buying of her wedding trousseau.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The dear old Major had suspected nothing -when his friend, the president of the bank, had -suddenly discovered that he could “carry” the -troublesome notes. So now he was completely -free from care, and his daughter had a week of -bliss in his company. She read history to him, -and drove with him, and tended his flowers in -the conservatory, and was hardly apart from -him an hour in the day.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia had set out some months ago at the -task of democratizing van Tuiver; even in -becoming engaged she had kept some lingering -hope of accomplishing this. But alas, how -quickly the idea vanished before the reality of -her situation! She remembered with a smile -how glibly she had advised the young millionaire -to step away from his shadow; and how he had -labored to make plain to her that he could not -help being a King. Now suddenly she found -<span class='pageno' id='Page_372'>372</span>that she could sympathize with him—she who -was about to be a Queen!</p> - -<p class='c011'>There were a thousand little ways in which -she felt the difference. Even the manner of her -friends was changed. She could not go anywhere -that she was not conscious of people staring at -her. It was found necessary to appoint a negro -to guard the grounds, because of the number -of strangers who came in the hope of getting a -glimpse of her. Her mail became suddenly a -flood: letters from inventors who wished to make -her another fortune; letters from distressed -women who implored her to save them; letters -from convicts languishing in prison for crimes -of which they were innocent; letters from poets -with immortal, unrecognized blank-verse dramas; -letters from lonely farmers’ wives who thrilled -over her romance, and poured out their souls -in ill-spelled blessings; letters from prophets of -the class-war who frightened her with warnings -of the wrath to come!</p> - -<p class='c011'>On the second day after the engagement was -announced, Sylvia went out, all unsuspecting, -for a horseback-ride, and had hardly mounted -when a man with a black box stepped from behind -a tree, and proceeded calmly to snap-shot -the fair equestrienne. Sylvia cried out in indignation, -and springing from the horse, rushed in -to tell the Major what had happened; whereupon -the Major sallied out with a cane, and there -was a cross-country gallop after the intruder, -ending in a violent collision between the camera -<span class='pageno' id='Page_373'>373</span>and the cane. The funniest part of the matter -was that the photographer spent the better part -of a day trying to get a warrant for his assailant—imagining -that it was possible to arrest a Castleman -in Castleman County! By way of revenge -he telegraphed the story to New York, where -it appeared, duly worked up—with the old photograph -of the “reigning beauty of the New South,” -in place of the one which had died in the camera!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 21</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia came up to New York in due course; -and by the time that she had been there one -day, she was able to understand the fondness -of the great for traveling “incog.” She was -“snapped” when she descended from the train—and -this time there was no one to assault the -photographer. Coming out of her hotel with -van Tuiver she found a battery of cameras waiting; -and being ungracious enough to put up her -hand before her face, she beheld her picture the -next morning with the hand held up, and beside -it the “reigning beauty” picture—with the -caption, “What is behind the hand!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Van Tuiver was of course known in all the -places which were patronized by the people of -his sort; and Sylvia had but to be seen with him -once in order to be equally known. Thereafter -when she passed through a hotel-lobby, or into -<span class='pageno' id='Page_374'>374</span>a tea-room, she would become aware of a sudden -hush, and would know that every eye was following -her. Needless to say, she could count upon -the attention of all the “buttons” who caught -sight of her; she lived with a vague consciousness -of swarms of blue-uniformed gnomes with constantly-changing -faces, who flitted about her, -all but falling over one another in their zeal, and -making her least action, such as sitting in a chair -or passing through a doorway, into a ceremonial -observance.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The most curious thing of all was to go shopping; -she simply dared not order anything sent -home. There would be the clerk, with pad and -poised pencil—“Name, please?” She would say, -“Miss Sylvia Castleman,” and the pencil would -begin to write mechanically—and then stop, -struck with a sudden paralysis. She would see -the fingers trembling, she would be aware of a -swift, wonder-stricken glance. Sometimes she -would pretend to be unconscious, and the business -would go on—“Palace Hotel. To be delivered -this afternoon. Yes, certainly, Miss -Castleman.” But sometimes human feeling -would break through all routine. A young soul, -hungry for life, for beauty—and confronting suddenly -the greatest moment of its whole existence, -touching the hem of the star-sewn garment of -Romance! A young girl—possibly even a man—flushing -scarlet, trembling, stammering, “Oh—why—!” -Once or twice Sylvia read in the face -before her something so pitiful that she was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_375'>375</span>moved to put her hand upon that of her devotee; -and if you are learned in the lore of ancient -times, you know what miracles are wrought by -the touch of Royalty!</p> - -<p class='c011'>What attitude was she to take to this new -power of hers? It was impossible to pretend to -be unaware of it—she had too keen a sense of -humor. But was she to spend her whole life in -shrinking, and feeling shame for other people’s -folly? Or should she learn somehow to accept -the homage as her due? She saw that the latter -was what van Tuiver expected. He had chosen -her among millions because she was the one -supremely fitted to go through life at his side; -and if she kept her promise and tried to be a -faithful wife to him, she would have to take -her rôle seriously, and learn to enjoy the performances.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Meantime, you ask, What of her soul? She -was trying her best to forget it—in excitements -and distractions, in meeting new people, going -to new places, buying thousands of dollars worth -of new costumes. She would stay late at dances -and supper-parties, trying to get weary enough -to sleep; but then she would have nightmares, -and would waken moaning and sobbing. Always -her dream was one thing, in a thousand forms; -she was somewhere in captivity, and some person -or creature was telling her that she could -not escape, that it was forever, forever, forever. -Her room had been made into a bower of roses, -but she had to send them away, because one -<span class='pageno' id='Page_376'>376</span>horrible night when she got up and walked about, -they made her think of the gardens at home, -and the pacing back and forth in her nightgown, -and the thorns and gravel in her feet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As a child Sylvia had read a story of a circus-clown, -who had played his part when ill and -almost dying, because of his wife and child at -home. Always thereafter a circus-clown had -been to her the symbol of the irony of human -life. But now she knew another figure, equally -tragic, equally terrible to be—the heroine of a -State romance. To be photographed and written -about, to see people staring at you, to have to -smile and look like one hearing celestial music—and -all the while to have a breaking heart!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 22</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia fought long battles with herself. “Oh, -I can’t do it!” she would cry. “I can’t do it!” -And then “You’ve promised to do it!” she would -say to herself. And every day she spent more -money, and met more of van Tuiver’s friends, -and read more articles about her Romance.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then one morning came a hall-boy with a card. -She looked at it, and had a painful start. -“Tubby” Bates!</p> - -<p class='c011'>He came in, cheerful, jolly, reminding her of -so many things—such happy things! She had -had a bad night, and now she simply could not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_377'>377</span>talk; her words choked her, and she sat staring -at him, her eyes suddenly filling with tears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, Miss Castleman!” he exclaimed—and -saw such a look upon that lovely face that his -voice died away to a whisper—“You aren’t -happy!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Still for a while she could not answer. He -asked her what was the matter; and then, again, -in greater distress, “Why did you do it?” She -responded, in a faint voice, “I did it on my father’s -account.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a long silence. Then with sudden -energy she began, “Mr. Bates, there is something -I want to talk to you about. It’s something -difficult—almost impossible for me to speak of. -And yet—I seem to get more and more desperate -about it. I can never be happy in my life until -I’ve talked to some one about it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it, Miss Castleman?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s about Frank Shirley.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh!” he said, in surprise.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You know that I was engaged to him, Mr. -Bates?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I was told that.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And you can guess, perhaps, how I have -suffered. I know only what the newspapers -printed—nothing more. And now—you are a -man, and you were at Harvard—you must know. -Is it true that Frank—that he did something that -would make it wrong for me ever to see him -again?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The blood had pressed into Sylvia’s face, but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_378'>378</span>still she did not lower her eyes. She was gazing -intensely at her friend. She must know the -truth! The whole truth!</p> - -<p class='c011'>He considered, and then said, gravely, “No, -Miss Castleman, I don’t think he did that.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause. “But—it was a place——” -she could go no further.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know,” he said. “But you see, Shirley -had a room-mate—Jack Colton. And he was -always trying to help him—to keep him out of -trouble and get him home sober——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, then <em>that</em> was it!” The words came in -a tone that frightened Bates by their burden of -anguish.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Miss Castleman,” he said. “And as -to the row—Shirley saw a woman mistreated, -and he interfered, and knocked a man down. -I know the man, and he’s the sort one has to -knock down. The only trouble was that he hit -his head as he fell.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I see!” whispered Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But even so, there wouldn’t have been any -publicity, except that some of the ‘Auburn Street -crowd’ were there. They saw their chance to -put the candidate of the ‘Yard’ out of the running; -and they did it. It was a rotten shame, -because everybody knew that Frank Shirley was -not that kind of man——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Bates stopped again. He could not bear the -look he saw on Sylvia’s face. She bowed her -head in her arms, and silent sobbing shook her. -Then she got up and began to pace back and forth -<span class='pageno' id='Page_379'>379</span>distractedly. He knew very well what was going -on in her thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Suddenly she turned upon him. “Mr. Bates,” -she exclaimed, “you must help me! You must -stay here and help me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Certainly, Miss Castleman. What can I do?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In the first place, you must not breathe a -word of this to anyone. You understand?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Of course.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Have you any idea where Frank Shirley is?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I heard that he had gone out to Wyoming -with Jack Colton.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then you must telegraph to Mr. Colton; -and also you must telegraph to Frank Shirley’s -home. You must say that Frank is to come to -you in New York at once. He mustn’t lose an -hour, you understand; my father will be here -next week. Then, too, Frank will have heard -of my engagement, and you can’t tell what he -might do.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Bates stared at her. “Do you know what you -are doing, Miss Castleman?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I do,” she answered.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Very well, then,” he said, “I will do what you -ask.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Go, do it now,” she cried, and he went—carrying -with him for the rest of his life the -memory of her face of agony. He sent the telegrams, -and in due course received replies—which -he did not dare to bring to Sylvia himself, but -sent by messenger. The first, from Frank’s -home, was to the effect that his whereabouts -<span class='pageno' id='Page_380'>380</span>were unknown; and the second, from Jack Colton, -was to the effect that Frank had gone away -a couple of weeks before, saying that he would -never return.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 23</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Sylvia wrestled this problem out with her own -soul. The only person who ever knew about it -was Aunt Varina, and she knew only because -she happened to awaken in the small hours of -the morning and hear signs of a fit of hysteria -which the girl was trying to repress. She went -into Sylvia’s room and found her huddled upon -the bed; when she asked what was the matter, -the other sobbed without lifting her face—“Oh, -I can’t marry him! I can’t marry him!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Tuis stared at her in consternation. -“Why, Sylvia!” she gasped.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Aunt Varina,” moaned Sylvia, “I’m so -unhappy! It’s so horrible!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, my child! You are out of your senses! -What has happened?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ve come to realize the mistake I’ve made! -I’d rather die than do it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Poor Aunt Varina was dumb with dismay. -Sylvia had played her part so well that no one -had had a suspicion. Now, between her bursts -of weeping, she stammered out what she had -learned. Frank was innocent. He had gone -away forever—perhaps he had killed himself. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_381'>381</span>At any rate, his life was ruined, and Sylvia had -done it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, my child,” protested the other, “you -couldn’t help it. How could you know?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I should have found out! I should have -trusted Frank; I should have known that he could -not do what they accused him of. I have been -faithless to him—faithless to our love. And -now what will become of him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aunt Varina sat gazing at her, tears of sympathy -running down her cheeks. “Sylvia,” she -whispered, “what will you do?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, I love Frank Shirley!” moaned the girl. -“I never loved anybody else—I never will love -anybody else! And I know—what I didn’t know -at first—that it’s wicked, wicked to marry without -love!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But what will you do?” repeated the other, -who was dazed with horror.</p> - -<p class='c011'>For a long time there was no sound but Sylvia’s -weeping. “Sylvia dear,” began Aunt Varina, at -last, “you must control yourself. You must -not let these thoughts get possession of you. -You will destroy yourself if you do.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can’t marry him!” sobbed the girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can’t let you go on talking that way!” -exclaimed the other, wildly. “Do you realize -what you are saying? Look at me, child, look -at me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia looked at her, wondering a little—for -never had she seen such vehemence exhibited by -this gentle and submissive “poor relation.” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_382'>382</span>“Listen!” Mrs. Tuis rushed on. “How can you -know that what you have heard is true? You -say that Frank was innocent—but your Cousin -Harley investigated, and he declared he was -guilty. Mrs. Winthrop told you the same—she -said everybody knew. And yet you take the -word of one man! And you told me at Harvard -that Mr. Bates was distressed at the idea of your -marrying Mr. van Tuiver. You told me he warned -you against him! Isn’t that so, Sylvia?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Aunt Varina, but—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He does not like Mr. van Tuiver, and he -comes here at a time like this, and puts such ideas -into your thoughts. Don’t you see that was not -an honorable thing to do—when you were on -the verge of being married and couldn’t get out -of it! When you know that your father would -be utterly ruined—that your whole family would -be wrecked by it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Surely it can’t be so bad, Aunt Varina!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Think how your father has gone into debt -on your account! All the clothes you have -bought—the bills at this hotel—the expenses of -the wedding! Thousands and thousands of -dollars!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, I didn’t want all that!” wailed Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But you did! You insisted on coming here -to New York, where a wedding would cost several -times as much as at home! You have come out -before all the world as Mr. van Tuiver’s fiancée—and -think of the scandal and the disgrace, if you -were to break it off! And poor Mr. van Tuiver—what -<span class='pageno' id='Page_383'>383</span>a figure he’d cut! And when he loves -you so!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia’s sobbing had ceased during this outburst. -When she spoke again, her voice was -hard. “He does not love me,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, what in the world do you mean by -that?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I mean just what I say. He doesn’t love -me—not as Frank loves me. He isn’t capable -of it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But then—why—for what other reason should -he be marrying you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m beautiful, and he wants me. But it’s -mainly because I offended his vanity—yes, just -that! I turned him down, I ridiculed him and -insulted him. I was something he couldn’t get; -and the more he couldn’t get me, the more the -thought of me rankled in his mind.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia! How <em>can</em> you be so cynical!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m not cynical at all. I just won’t gild -things over, as other women do. I won’t make -pretences, I won’t cover myself and my whole -life with a cloak of shams. I know right now -that I’m being sold, just as much as if I were led -out to an auction-block with chains about my -ankles! I’m being sold to a man—and I was -meant to be sold to a man from the very beginning -of my life!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a silence; for Aunt Varina was -paralyzed by these amazing words. She had -never heard such an utterance in her life before. -“Sylvia!” she cried. “What do you mean? -<em>Who</em> is driving you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_384'>384</span>“I don’t know! But something is!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How can you say it? Can you imagine that -your good, kind parents—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, no!” interrupted Sylvia, passionately. -“At least—they don’t know it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mrs. Tuis sat dumfounded. “Sylvia,” she -quavered, at last, “let me implore you to get -yourself together before your father arrives in -New York. If he should hear what you have -said to me to-night, he would never get over -it—truly, it would kill him!”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 24</h3> - -<p class='c010'>An event to which Sylvia looked forward with -considerable interest was a meeting with Mrs. -Beauregard Dabney, who was coming to New -York for a visit. Harriet, as her letters showed, -was not unappreciative of the glory which had -descended upon her friend, and would enjoy -having some of it reflected upon herself. Thus -Sylvia might be shown what emotions she ought -to be feeling; possibly she might even be made -to feel some of them. At any rate, she knew -that Harriet would help to keep her courage -screwed up.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Sylvia’s pleasure in the visit was marred -by a peculiar circumstance, which she had failed -to prepare for, in spite of warnings duly given. -“You must not be surprised when you see me,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_385'>385</span>Harriet wrote. “I have been ill, and I’m terribly -changed.” Her reason for coming North, it -appeared, was to consult specialists about a -mysterious ailment which had baffled the doctors -at home.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia was quite horrified when she saw her -friend. Never could she have imagined such a -change in anyone in six months’ time. Harriet -lifted her veil, and there was an old woman with -wrinkled, yellow skin. “Why, Harriet!” gasped -Sylvia, unable to control herself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know, Sunny,” said the other. “Isn’t it -dreadful?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But for heaven’s sake, what is the matter?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s what I’ve come to find out. Nobody -knows.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, I never heard of such a thing!” Sylvia -exclaimed. “What are you doing?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m having all sorts of things done. The -doctors give me medicine, but nothing seems to -do any good. I’m really in despair about myself.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How did it begin, Harriet?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t really know. There were so many -things, and I didn’t put them together. I began -having headaches a great deal; and then pains -that the doctors called neuralgia. I had a bad -sore throat over in Europe; I thought the climate -disagreed with me, but I’ve had it again at -home. And now eruptions break out; the doctors -treat them with things, and they go away, -but then they come back. All my hair is falling -out, and I’ve got to wear a wig.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_386'>386</span>“Why, how perfectly horrible!” cried Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She started to embrace her friend, but was -repelled. “I mustn’t kiss anyone,” said Harriet. -“You see, it might be contagious—one can’t be -sure.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But what are you going to do, Harriet?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ve almost given up hoping. I haven’t -really cared so much, since the doctors told me -I can never have another baby. You know, -Sunny, it’s curious—I never cared about children, -I thought they were nuisances. But when -mine came, I cared—oh, so horribly! I wanted -to have a real one.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A real one?” echoed Sylvia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes. I didn’t write you about it, and perhaps -I oughtn’t to tell you just at this time. -But you know, Sunny, he didn’t seem like a -human being at all; he was a little gray mummy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Harriet!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Just like that—a regular skeleton, his skin -all loose, so that you could lift it up in folds. -He was a kind of earthy color, and had no hair, -and no finger nails——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia broke out with a cry of horror, and her -friend stopped. “I haven’t talked to anyone -about it,” she said—“I guess I oughtn’t to, -even to you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How long did he live?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“About six weeks. Nobody knew what he -died of—he just seemed to fade away. You -can’t imagine it, perhaps—but, Sunny, I wanted -him to stay—even him! He was all I could ever -<span class='pageno' id='Page_387'>387</span>have, and it seemed so cruel!” Suddenly the girl -hid her face in her hands and began to sob—the -first time that Sylvia had ever seen her do -it in all her life.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So it was not the cheering visit that Sylvia -had anticipated. It left her with much to think -about, and to talk about with other people. -Later on, speaking to Aunt Varina, she happened -to mention something that van Tuiver had said -about the matter; whereupon her aunt exclaimed, -“You didn’t talk about it with Mr. van Tuiver!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But why not, Auntie?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You mustn’t do that, dear! You can’t tell.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Can’t tell what?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I mean, dear, that Harriet might have some -disease that you oughtn’t to talk to Mr. van -Tuiver about.” Aunt Varina hesitated, then -added, in a whisper, “Some ‘bad disease’.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Whereat Sylvia started in sudden dismay. So -<em>that</em> was it! A “bad disease”!</p> - -<p class='c011'>You must understand how it happened that -Sylvia had ideas on this subject. There was -a foreign writer of plays, whose name she had -heard. She had never seen his books, and would -not have opened one, upon peril of her soul; -but once, in a magazine picked up in a train, -she had read a casual reference to an Ibsen -play, which dealt with a nameless and dreadful -malady. From the context it was made clear -that this malady was a price men paid for evil -living—and a price which was often collected -from their innocent wives and children. Now -<span class='pageno' id='Page_388'>388</span>and then the women of Sylvia’s family spoke in -awe-stricken whispers of this mysterious taint, -using the phrase “a bad disease.” Now, apparently, -she was beholding the horror before her -eyes!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 25</h3> - -<p class='c010'>The problem occupied Sylvia’s mind for several -days, to the exclusion of everything else. It -lent a new dread to the thought of marriage. -How could a woman be safe from such a thing? -Beauregard Dabney was not the most perfect -specimen of manhood that one could have -selected, but there was nothing especial the matter -with him that could be observed. Yet see what -had happened to his wife and child!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Harriet came again, and this time her husband -was with her. He was just as much in love with -her as ever—in fact, Sylvia thought that she -noted a new and pathetic clinging on his part. -They had been to see a great specialist, and still -there was nothing definite to be learned about -the malady; the doctor, hearing that the couple -had journeyed up the Nile, suggested that possibly -it might be an African fever, and promised to -look up the mysterious symptoms in his books. -Wasn’t it extraordinary, exclaimed Harriet; but -Sylvia, who could not be deceived for very long, -noticed that Beauregard was not so much excited -about the African theory as his wife. Suddenly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_389'>389</span>the thought came to her, Could it be that the -doctors really knew what the disease was, and -would not tell Harriet? Could it be that Beauregard -knew, and was helping in the deception? -Then—horror of horrors—could it be that he had -known all along, and had upon his conscience the -crime of having brought the woman he loved -into this state?</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia’s relentless mind, once having got hold -of this problem, clung to it like a bull-dog to the -throat of an enemy. Of course such a disease -was a loathsome thing; a woman could not very -well ask questions about it—yet, what was she -to do? Apparently she was dependent upon the -man’s honor; and could it be that a man’s notion -of honor permitted him, when he was desperately -in love, to take such chances with a woman’s -life? Sylvia remembered suddenly that Beauregard -had made love to <em>her</em>. More than once she -had actually permitted him to hold and fondle -her hand. The mere thought made her shrink -with horror.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And then came another idea. (How quickly -she was putting things together!) Men got this -disease by evil living. Then Beauregard must -have done the sort of thing that Frank Shirley -had been accused of doing! Also Jack Colton -had done the same! Also—had not Bates said -that there were some of the “Auburn Street -crowd” in that place? Club-men, gentlemen, the -aristocracy of Harvard! There came back to her -the phrase from Harley’s letter: “one of the two -<span class='pageno' id='Page_390'>390</span>or three high-class houses of prostitution which -are especially frequented by college men!” How -much Sylvia knew about this forbidden subject, -when she came to put her mind to it! More, -apparently, than her own parents—for had they -not shown themselves willing for her to fall in -love with Beauregard Dabney? More, also, -than Mrs. Winthrop—for had not that lady -implied that it was only low and obscure men -who permitted themselves such baseness?</p> - -<p class='c011'>As you may believe, it was not long before -Sylvia’s thoughts came to her own intended -husband. What had been <em>his</em> life? What -might be the chances of her being brought to -such a fate as Harriet’s? Apparently nobody -had any thought about it. They had been quick -to avail themselves of the appearance of evil -on the part of Frank Shirley; but what had they -done to make sure that van Tuiver had been any -better?</p> - -<p class='c011'>For three days Sylvia debated this problem; -and then her mind was made up—she would do -something about it. She would talk to someone. -But to whom?</p> - -<p class='c011'>She began with her faithful chaperone, mentioning -the African fever theory, and so bringing -up the subject of “bad diseases.” Just how -much did Aunt Varina know about these diseases? -Not very much, it appeared. Was -there any way to find out about them? There -was no way that Aunt Varina could conceive—it -was not a subject concerning which a young -girl ought to inquire.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_391'>391</span>“But,” protested Sylvia, “a girl has to marry. -And think of taking such chances! Suppose, for -instance, that Mr. van Tuiver—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ssh!” Aunt Varina almost leaped at her -niece in her access of horror. “Sylvia! how can -you suggest such a thing?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Auntie, how can I be sure?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You surely know that the man to whom you -have given your heart is a gentleman!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Auntie, but then I knew that Beauregard -Dabney was a gentleman—and so did you. -And see what has happened!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Sylvia dear! You don’t know that it’s -<em>that</em>!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I very nearly know it. And if Beauregard -was willing to marry when he—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But <em>he</em> may not have known it, Sylvia!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, don’t you see, Aunt Varina? That -makes it all the more serious! If Mr. van Tuiver -himself can be ignorant, how can I feel safe?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But, Sylvia, what could you do?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, I should think he ought to go to some -one who knows—a doctor—and make sure.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The poor old lady was almost speechless with -horror. What was the world coming to? “How -can you say such a thing?” she exclaimed. “You, -a pure girl! Who could suggest such a thing to -Mr. van Tuiver?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Couldn’t Papa do it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And pray, who is to suggest it to your father? -Surely <em>you</em> couldn’t!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why no,” said Sylvia, “perhaps not. But -couldn’t Mamma?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_392'>392</span>“Your mother would <em>die</em> first!” And Sylvia, -remembering her “talk” with “Miss Margaret,” -had to admit that this was probably true.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But still she could not give up her idea that -something ought to be done. She took a couple -of days more to think, and then made up her -mind to write to her Uncle Basil. The family -had sent him to talk with her about Frank’s misconduct, -thus apparently indicating him as her -proper adviser in delicate matters.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So she wrote, at some length—using most -carefully veiled language, and tearing up many -pages which contained words she could not -endure seeing on paper. But she made her -meaning clear—that she thought someone should -approach her future husband on the subject.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sylvia waited the necessary period for the -Bishop’s reply, and read it with trembling fingers -and flaming cheeks—although its language was -even more carefully veiled than her own. The -substance of it was that van Tuiver was a -Christian gentleman, and this must be Sylvia’s -guarantee that he would not bring any harm to -the woman he so deeply revered. Surely, if -Sylvia respected him enough to marry him, she -could trust him in a matter like this! To approach -him upon it would be to offer him a deadly -insult.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Whereupon Sylvia took several days more to -worry and wonder. She was not satisfied at all, -and finally summoned her courage and wrote to -the Bishop again. It was not merely a question -<span class='pageno' id='Page_393'>393</span>of honor; if that were true, she would have to -say that Beauregard Dabney was a scoundrel -and she did not believe that. Might it not -possibly be <em>knowledge</em> that was lacking? She -begged her uncle to do her the favor of his life -by writing to van Tuiver; and she intimated -further that if he would not do it, she would have -to put the matter before her father.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So there was another wait, and then came a -letter from the Bishop, saying that he was writing -as requested. Then, after a third wait, a -letter with van Tuiver’s reply. He had taken -the inquiry very magnanimously; he could understand, -he said, how Sylvia had been upset by the -sight of her friend’s illness. As to her own case, -she might rest assured that there could be no such -possibility. And so at last Sylvia’s fears were -allayed, and she was free to be unhappy about -other matters.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 26</h3> - -<p class='c010'>You must not imagine that Sylvia was spending -these days in moping; all her thinking had -to be done in the odd moments of a strenuous -career. Day and night she had to meet new -people, and new people were always an irresistible -stimulus to her curiosity. Not all of them were -hall-boys and shop-clerks, falling instant victims -to her charms; on the contrary, they were Knickerbocker -“society”—people not infrequently as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_394'>394</span>wealthy as her future husband, and having an -equally great notion of their own importance. -The tidings that Douglas van Tuiver had picked -up a country girl had not thrilled them with -sympathetic emotions. The details of the newspaper -romance inspired them only with contempt. -There had to be many a flash of Sylvia’s rapier-wit, -and many a flash of Sylvia’s red-brown eyes, -before these patrician plutocrats had been brought -to acknowledge her an equal.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A few of these acquaintances were kindly -people, whom she could imagine making into -friends, if only there had been time. But she -wondered how anybody ever found time for -friendship in this restless and expensive and -highly ornamental life. Such a whirl of dinner-parties -and supper-parties, dances and luncheons -and teas! Such august and imposing splendor, -such dignified and even sombre dissipation! -The Major had provided abundant credit for this -last splurge; and van Tuiver’s aunt was also -on hand, conspiring with her nephew to smother -Sylvia under loads of gifts. The girl wondered -sometimes, was it that van Tuiver had suspicions -of her wavering, and sought to bind her by forcing -these luxuries upon her? Or would she be -expected always to live this kind of Arabian -Nights’ existence?</p> - -<p class='c011'>There came old friends, to bask in the sunlight -of her success. Miss Abercrombie came, effulgent -with delight, assured of a lifetime’s prosperity by -this demonstration of her system. With her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_395'>395</span>came Celeste, playing her difficult part with -bitter pride. Harley Chilton ran down from -Boston, bringing the tidings that he had made -the “Dickey” and saw his way clear to the top -of the Harvard pyramid. Last of all, two or -three days before the wedding came “Queen -Isabella,” distributing her largess of blessings to -all concerned.</p> - -<p class='c011'>First she met “Miss Margaret” and the Major, -and addressed them with such mystical eloquence -that the agitated pair had not a dry eye between -them. After which she sought the prospective -bride and bridegroom; and not even the most -reverend millionaire bishop who was to perform -the ceremony could have been more pontifical -and impressive than our great lady in this solemn -hour. We live in a cynical world, which affords -but poor soil for the nurture of the finer flowers -of the spirit. But Mrs. Winthrop was one really -capable of experiencing the more exalted emotions, -and of giving them ungrudging utterance. She -was thrilled now by the vistas which she saw -unfolding; not since the day of her espousal of -the celebrated railroad-builder had the wings of -the seraphim rustled so loudly about her head. -She might have been compared to a creative -artist who labors for long in solitude, and who -at last, when he reveals his masterpiece, is startled -by the clamor of the world’s applause.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sylvia,” she said, and put both her hands -upon the girl’s—“Sylvia, you have before you a -great career, a career of service. You will be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_396'>396</span>happy—I know you must be happy, dear, when -once you have come to realize what an inspiration -you are to others. Such fortune as yours -falls but rarely to a woman, but you will be -worthy of it—I believe you will be worthy of -everything that has come to you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I hope so, Mrs. Winthrop,” answered Sylvia, -humbly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And then, as van Tuiver discreetly moved away, -the other went on, in a low and deeply-moved -voice: “Don’t imagine, dear girl, that I fail to -realize all your doubts and perplexities. I know -just how you feel, for I had to go through with it -myself. Every woman does—but believe me, -such tremors are as nothing compared to all the -rest of one’s life. We learn to subordinate our -personal feelings, our personal preferences. That -is one of the duties of those who have greatness -as their lot—who have to live what one might -call public lives.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Now, Sylvia might have her doubts as to the -soundness of this doctrine, but she had none -as to the genuineness of the speaker’s feelings; -so she was a trifle shocked when Mrs. Winthrop -went away, and she discovered that her future -husband was laughing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nothing,” he said, “it’s all right—only when -you are Mrs. Douglas van Tuiver, you will receive -Isabella’s ecstasies with a trifle more reserve. -You will realize that she has her own axes to -grind.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_397'>397</span>“Axes—what do you mean?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Social axes. You’ll understand my world -bye-and-bye, Sylvia. Isabella’s trying to make -an impression beyond her income, and she’s -seeking alliances. What you must remember is -that the need is on her side.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a pause, while Sylvia sat thinking. -“Tell me,” she said, at last, “why did Mrs. -Winthrop change so suddenly, and begin urging -me to marry you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s the same thing,” he answered. “She -couldn’t afford to displease me. When she found -that I was determined to have my way, she tried -to make it seem her work. Naturally, she’d -want as much of the prestige of this wedding as -she could get.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Again Sylvia pondered. “Hasn’t Mrs. Winthrop’s -husband enough money?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He has enough, but he won’t spend it. The -tragedy of Isabella’s life is that her husband is -really interested in railroads.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But I thought he adored her!” Sylvia remembered -a pathetic stout gentleman she had -seen wandering about on the outskirts of a throng -of the great lady’s admirers.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, yes,” replied van Tuiver, with laughter. -“I never saw a woman who had a man more -completely bluffed. But the trouble is that he -offers himself, and what she wants is his money.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There followed a long silence. Van Tuiver -had pleasant things to meditate upon; but suddenly -he chanced to look at Sylvia, and exclaimed, -“Why, what’s the matter?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_398'>398</span>“Nothing,” she said, and turned away her -head to conceal the tears she had failed to repress.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But what is it?” he demanded, not without -a touch of annoyance.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There’s no use talking about it,” was Sylvia’s -reply. “It’s just that you promised you would -try not to think so much about money. Sometimes -I can’t help being frightened, when I realize -that you don’t ever believe in people—but only -in money.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She saw the old worried look come back to his -face. “You know that I believe in <em>you</em>!” he -exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You told me,” she answered, “that the only -way I was able to make an impression upon you -was by refusing to marry you. And now I have -given up that prestige—so aren’t you afraid that -you may come to feel about me as you do -about Mrs. Winthrop?”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 27</h3> - -<p class='c010'>Major and Mrs. Castleman arrived next morning, -and after that there were busy times for -Sylvia. There was the wedding-gown to be -shown, and the trousseau and the presents; there -were plans for the future to be told of, and many -blessings to be received. “Miss Margaret” was -in a “state” most of the time—tears of joy and -tears of sorrow pursuing each other down her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_399'>399</span>generous cheeks. “Sylvia,” she exclaimed, in one -breath, “I <em>know</em> you will be happy!” And then, -in the next breath, “Sylvia, I <em>hope</em> you will be -happy!” And then, in a third breath, “Sylvia, -how will we ever get on without you? Who -will dare to spank the baby?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was with her father that she had the really -trying ordeal; her father took her into a room -alone, and held her hands in his and tried to -read her soul. “Tell me, my child, are you -going to be happy?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I think so, Papa,” she answered; and had to -make herself look into his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I want you to understand me, dear Sylvia—even -now, at this last hour, don’t take the step -unless you believe with your best judgment that -you will be happy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was a moment of madness, when she -had the impulse to fling herself into his arms and -cry, “I love Frank Shirley!” But instead of that -she hurried on, “I believe he loves me deeply, -Papa.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Said the Major, in a trembling voice, “There -is no more solemn moment in a father’s life than -when he sees his dearly loved daughter taking -this irrevocable step. I want you to know, my -darling, that I have prayed earnestly, I have done -my best to judge what is right for you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, Papa,” she said, “I know that.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I want you to know that if ever I have seemed -to be stern, it has been because I believed my -daughter’s welfare required it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_400'>400</span>“Yes, Papa,” she said, again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am sure, this man loves you, Sylvia; and -I believe he’s a good man—he ought to make -you happy. But I want you to know that if -by any chance my prayers are denied—if you -find that you are not happy—then your father’s -home will always be open to you, his arms will -always be stretched wide to clasp you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dear old Daddy!” whispered the girl. She -felt the arms about her now, and she began to -sob softly, with a mixture of emotions. Oh, if -only she might stay for the balance of her life -in the shelter of those arms, that were so strong -and so dependable! If only there were not the -dreadful thing called marriage—which drove her -out into another pair of arms, from which she -shrunk with such unconquerable aversion!</p> - -<p class='c011'>This was the heart of her difficulty—her -inability to conquer her physical shrinking from -the man to whom she was betrothed. Here -she was, upon the very eve of her wedding, and -she had made no progress whatever. Mentally -and spiritually she had probed him, and felt -that she knew him intimately; but physically he -was still an utter stranger to her—as much so -as any man she might have met upon the street. -She would sit talking with him, trying to forget -herself and her fears for a while; and gradually -she would be conscious of his gaze upon her, his -eyes traveling over her form, devouring her in -thought, longing for her. Then she would go -almost beside herself—she would have to spring -<span class='pageno' id='Page_401'>401</span>up and break the chain of his thoughts. It -seemed to her that she was like the prey of some -wild beast—or a beast that was just tame -enough to wait patiently, knowing that at a -certain time the prey would be in its grasp.</p> - -<p class='c011'>On the evening before the wedding van Tuiver -was to attend a “stag-dinner” with his friends; -but he called in to see her for a few minutes, and -the family discreetly left them alone. In a sudden -access of longing, he clasped her in his arms, -and she forced herself to submit. Then he began -to kiss her, to press passionate kisses upon her -cheek and throat. His breath was hot, and -utterly horrible to her; she could not endure it, -and cried out to him to stop, and struggled and -pushed him away. Still holding her, and gazing -at her with desire blazing in his eyes, he whispered, -“Not yet?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, how could you?” she cried.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is it not time you were beginning to learn?” -he demanded; and then, wholly beside himself, -“Sylvia, how much longer am I to endure this? -Can’t you understand what you make me suffer? -I love you—I love you to distraction, and I get -nothing from you—nothing! I dare not even tell -you that I love you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The passion in his voice made her shudder; -and yet, too, she pitied him. She was ashamed -of herself for the way she treated him. “What -can I do?” she cried. “I can’t help it—as God -is my witness, I can’t control my feelings. I ask -myself, ought I to marry you so?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_402'>402</span>“It seems to me it’s rather late to bring up that -question,” he responded.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know, I know! I have nothing to say for -myself—except that I didn’t know, I couldn’t -realize. It’s something I must tell you—how -I have come to feel—that I ought not to marry -you, that you ought not to want me to marry -you, while things are like this. You must know -this, so that if I marry you, the responsibility will -be yours!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And you think that is fair of you?” he demanded, -his voice grown suddenly hard.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He meant to rebuke her, and she felt that he -had a right to rebuke her; but the wave of emotion -which swept her along was not to be -controlled by her reason. “Oh, you are going to -be angry about it!” she cried. “How horrible -of you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He exclaimed, “Sylvia! Can you expect me not -to be hurt?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I told you that I couldn’t help it! I told -you in the very beginning that you would have -to take me as I was, and be satisfied if I did my -best! I told you that again and again—that -I loved another man, that I love him still—”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She stopped. A spasm of pain crossed his -face—followed by a look of fear. He hesitated, -and then, his voice low and trembling, he began, -“Sylvia, forgive me. I know that you are right—that -you are trying to do your best. I will be -patient. You must be patient with me also.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She stood, her head bowed, ashamed of what -<span class='pageno' id='Page_403'>403</span>she had said. Yet—she felt that he ought to -have heard it. “I hate to seem unfair,” she -whispered, her voice almost breaking. “I don’t -want to give you pain, but I can’t help these -feelings, and I know it’s my duty to tell you of -them. I don’t see how you can go on—I should -think you would be afraid to marry me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>For answer he caught her hands, exclaiming, -“I will take my chances! I love you, and I will -never rest until you love me!”</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 28</h3> - -<p class='c010'>So far I have put together this story from the -memories of Sylvia and Frank Shirley. But -now I have come to the point where you may -watch the events through my own eyes. I will -take a paragraph or two to give you an idea of -the quality of these eyes, and then proceed without -further delay.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mary Abbott, the teller of this tale, was at the -age of forty a crude farmer’s wife upon a lonely -pioneer homestead in Manitoba. In winter in -that part of the world it begins to grow dark at -three o’clock in the afternoon, and it is not fully -light until nine o’clock in the morning. We were -a mile from the nearest neighbor, and had often -three feet of snow upon the ground, with fifty -degrees below zero and a sweeping wind. I had -a husband whom I feared and despised, and for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_404'>404</span>whom I cooked and washed and sewed, whether -I was well or ill. Under these circumstances -I had raised three children to maturity. I had -moved to town and seen them through high-school; -and now, the girl being married, and the -two boys in college, I found myself suddenly free -to see the world.</p> - -<p class='c011'>You must not think of me as altogether ignorant. -I had fought desperately for books, and had -grown up with my children. Discovering in the -town the perpetual miracle of a circulating -library, I had read wildly, acquiring a strange -assortment of new ideas. But that, I am ashamed -to say, made very little difference when I reached -the East. It is one thing to read up in the theory -of Socialism, and say that you have freed yourself -from <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bourgeois</span></i> ideals; it is quite another to -come from a raw pioneer community, and be -suddenly hit between the eyes by all the marvels -of the great New Nineveh!</p> - -<p class='c011'>I forgot my principles; I wandered about, -breathless with excitement. Everything that I -had ever read about, in Sunday supplements and -cheap magazines—here it was before my eyes! -I got myself a hall-room in a “Greenwich Village” -boarding-house, and for days I went, thrusting -my inquisitive country face into everything that -was cheap enough. The huge shops with their -amazing treasures of silks and jewels; the great -hotels with their gold and stucco splendors; the -dizzy, tower-like office-buildings; the newspaper -offices with their whirling presses; the theatres, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_405'>405</span>the museums, the parks; the Brooklyn Bridge -and the Statue of Liberty, Grant’s Tomb and the -Bowery—I was the very soul of that thing which -the New Yorker derisively calls the “rubber-neck -wagon!” I took my place in one of these moving -grand-stands, and listened to all that came out -of the megaphone. Here was the home of the -steel-king, which had cost three millions of dollars! -Here was the home where a fifty thousand -dollar chef was employed! Here was the old -van Tuiver mansion, where the millionaire-baby -had been brought up! Here was the Palace -Hotel, where Miss Sylvia Castleman was staying!</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was the day before the wedding; and I, like -all the rest of the city, was thrilling over the -Romance, knowing more about the preparations -than the bride herself. I had read all the papers—morning -papers and afternoon papers; I had -read descriptions of the wedding-gown, the trousseau, -the rooms full of gift-treasures with detectives -on guard. I had stared at the outside of -the church, and imagined the inside. Last of -all, I had wandered up to the Palace Hotel and -peered about in the lobby, amusing myself by -imagining that each gorgeous female creature -who floated by and disappeared into a motor-car -might possibly be the Princess herself!</p> - -<p class='c011'>At the boarding-house we discussed the possibility -of seeing the wedding-cortege, and everybody -said that I could not come within a block -of the church. “I’ll fight my way,” I declared; -to which the reply was that I would find out something -<span class='pageno' id='Page_406'>406</span>about New York policemen that would cure -me of my fighting impulses. The result of the -discussion was that I set out immediately after -breakfast, fired with the spirit of the discoverers -of Pike’s Peak.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I must get at least a glimpse, I told myself. -What a tale to be able to tell at the Women’s -Club receptions at home! To say: “I saw her! -She was the loveliest thing! And oh, her dress! -It was cream-white satin, with four graduated -flounces of exquisite point-lace!” Of course -I could have got all that from the newspapers; -but I wanted to be able to say it truly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The wedding-hour was noon, but at nine there -was already a respectable crowd. I established -myself upon the steps of a nearby house, with -a newspaper to sit on and a pair of borrowed -opera-glasses in my hand-bag. In the meantime -I entertained myself talking with the other -watchers, who were a new type to me, well-dressed -women, kept in luxury, whether legal or -otherwise, who fed their empty minds upon -fashion sheets and “society notes,” and had no -idea in the world beyond the decking of their -persons and the playing of their little part in -the great game of Splurge. We talked about the -van Tuiver family, its history and its present -status; we talked with awe about the bride; -we talked about the presents, the decorations, the -costumes—there was so much to talk about!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Shortly after ten o’clock a calamity befell us—the -police began to clear the steps, driving the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_407'>407</span>crowd far back from the church-entrance. What -agonies, what expostulations! How outrageous—when -we had waited there an hour already! -Sometimes the steps were our own steps, sometimes -they were the steps of friends; but even -that made no difference. “I’m sorry, lady, the -orders are to clear everything.” They were as -gentle about it as they could be, but that was -none too gentle; we had the butt-ends of clubs, -pressing into our stomachs, and back we went, -arguing, scolding, threatening, sometimes weeping -or fainting.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I was tremendously disappointed. To have -to go back to the boarding-house, and admit -defeat to the milliner’s assistant who sat next -to me at meals! To hear “I told you so” from -the “floor-walker” who sat across the way! -“I won’t do it!” I said to myself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And then suddenly came my chance. Behind -me there was a commotion, angry protests—“Officer, -let us through here! We have cards!” -Cards—how our souls thrilled as we heard the -word! Here, right close to us, were some of the -chosen ones! Let us see them at least—a bit of -Royalty at second hand!</p> - -<p class='c011'>They pushed their way through—three women -and two men. As they neared me, I saw the -engraved invitations in their hands, and it flashed -over me that in my hand-bag was a milliner’s -advertisement of nearly the same size and shape. -I dived in, and fished it out with trembling fingers, -and fell in behind the party, and pushed through -<span class='pageno' id='Page_408'>408</span>the crowd past the line of police. There before -me was the open space in front of the church!</p> - -<p class='c011'>I had acted on impulse, with no idea what to -do next. I could scarcely hope to get in to the -wedding on a milliner’s card. But fortunately -my problem solved itself, for there were always -the guests pushing into the entrance, and everybody -was perfectly willing to push ahead of me. -All I had to do was to “mark time,” and I was -free to stay, inhaling delicious perfumes and -feasting my ears upon scraps of the conversation -of the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">élite</span></i>. I foresaw that the banner of the -great Northwest would wave triumphantly in -“Greenwich Village” that night!</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>§ 29</h3> - -<p class='c010'>I will not stop to detail the separate thrills of -this adventure. Carriage after carriage, motor -after motor drew up, and released new revelations -of grace and elegance. The time for the ceremony -drew near, and from the stir in the throng -about me I knew that the guests from the wedding-breakfast -were passing. How I longed to talk to -someone—to ask who was this and that and the -other one! Then I might have been able to tell -you how “Miss Margaret” wept, and how Aunt -Varina trembled, and what “Queen Isabella” was -wearing! But the only persons I could be sure -of were the five lovely bridesmaids, and the bride, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_409'>409</span>leaning upon the arm of a stately old white-haired -gentleman. How we craned our necks, -and what rapture transported us! We heard the -thunder of the organ and the orchestra within, -and it corresponded to the state of our souls.</p> - -<p class='c011'>There was still quite a throng at either side -of the entrance—newspaper reporters, people who -had come out of houses nearby, people who, like -myself, had got by the police-lines upon one -pretext or another. Down the street we could -see a solid line of bluecoats, and behind them -people crowded upon steps, leaning out of windows, -clinging to railings and lamp-posts. We -were in fear lest at any time we might be ordered -to join this throng, so we stayed silent and very -decorous, careful not to crowd or to make ourselves -conspicuous.</p> - -<p class='c011'>You might have expected, perhaps, that when -all the protagonists of the drama had entered the -church, the crowd would have dispersed; but not -a soul went. We stood, listening to the faint -music, and imagining the glories that were hid -from our eyes. We pictured the procession up -the aisle, with the guests standing on the seats -in order to get a glimpse of it. We pictured the -sacred ceremony. (There were some who had -prayer-books in their hands, the better to aid -their imaginations.) We pictured the bride, -kneeling upon a white silk cushion embroidered -with gold, receiving the blessings of the millionaire -bishop. We heard the wild burst of chimes -which told us that the two were made one, and -our pulses leaped with excitement.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_410'>410</span>All this took perhaps half an hour; and I think -that about half that time had passed when I -first noticed Claire. I never knew how she got -there; but fate, or providence, or what you will, -had set her next to me, and that strange intuition -which sometimes comes to me, and puts me -inside the soul of another person in less time -than it takes for my eye to look them over, gave -me the warning of danger from her presence.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was a tall and striking woman, beautifully -gowned, with high color and bold black eyes—a -woman you would have noticed in any gathering. -You would have thought at once that she -was a foreigner, but you might have been puzzled -as to her country, for she had none of the characteristic -French traits, and her English was -quite perfect. I glanced at her once, and thereafter -I forgot everything else—the crowd, the -ceremony, all. What was the matter with this -woman?</p> - -<p class='c011'>What first made me turn was a quick motion, -as of a nervous spasm. Then I saw that her hands -were clenched tightly, and drawn up in front of -her as if she were struggling with someone. -Her lips were moving, yet I heard no sound; she -was staring in front of her fixedly, but at nothing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I must explain that it did not occur to me -that she had been drinking. My country -imagination was not equal to that flight. To -be sure, since my arrival I had learned that the -women of the New Nineveh did drink; I had -peered into the “orange room,” and the “palm -<span class='pageno' id='Page_411'>411</span>room,” and several other strange rooms, and had -seen gorgeous peacock-creatures with little glasses -of highly-colored liquids before them. But I had -not got so far as to imagine any consequences; -I had never thought of connecting the high color -in women’s cheeks, the sparkle in women’s eyes, -the animation of women’s chatter with the little -glasses of highly-colored liquids. They had so -many other reasons for being animated, these -fortunate, victorious ones!</p> - -<p class='c011'>No, I only knew that this woman was excited; -and I began forthwith to imagine most desperate -and romantic things. You must remember what -I said when I was first telling about Sylvia—that -my ideas of the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grand monde</span></i> had been derived -from cheap fiction in “Farm” and “Home” and -“Fireside” publications. You all know the old -story of the beautiful heroine who marries the -dissolute duke; how the duke’s cast-off mistress -attends the wedding, and does something melodramatic -and thrilling—perhaps shoots at the -duke, perhaps throws vitriol at the bride, perhaps -hands her a letter which is worse than vitriol to -her innocent young soul. I smile when I think -how instantly I understood this situation, and -with what desperate seriousness I made ready -to play my part—watching the woman like a -cat, ready to spring and seize her at the first -hostile move. And yet, after all, it was no joke, -for Claire was really quite capable of a murderous -impulse when she was in her present condition.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Other people had begun to notice her peculiar -<span class='pageno' id='Page_412'>412</span>behavior; I saw one or two women edging away -from her, but I stayed all the closer. The time -came when we heard the music of the Mendelssohn -March, and the excitement in the crowd -told us what was coming. Suddenly the doors -of the church swung open—and there, in her -radiant loveliness—the bride!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Her veil was thrown back, but her eyes were -cast down, and she clung to the arm of her husband. -Oh, what a vision she was, and what a -thrill went about! For myself, however, I -scarcely saw her. My eyes were on the strange -woman.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She looked like a mad creature; quivering in -every nerve, her fingers twisting and untwisting -themselves like writhing snakes. She had -crouched, as if ready to spring; and I had my -hands within a foot of hers, ready to stop her. -The procession moved through the passage kept -clear by the police, and I literally held my -breath while they passed—held it until the bride -had stepped into a limousine, and the bridegroom -had followed, and the door had slammed. Then -suddenly the strange woman drew herself up and -turned upon me, her face glaring into mine. -I saw her wild eyes—and also I got a whiff of her -breath. She laughed, a hysterical, hateful laugh, -and muttered: “She’ll pay for what she gets!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>I whispered “Hush!” But the woman cried -again, so that several people heard her: “She’ll -pay for everything she gets from him!” She -added a phrase in French, the meaning and import -<span class='pageno' id='Page_413'>413</span>of which I learned to understand long afterwards—“<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le -cadeau de noce que la maitresse -laisse dans la corbeille de la jeune fille!</span></i>” Then -suddenly I saw her sway, and I caught her and -steadied her, as I know how to steady people -with my big strong arms.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And that, reader, was the strange way of my -coming into the life of Sylvia Castleman!</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c004' /> -</div> -<div class='section ph2'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>NEW BOOKS YOU OUGHT TO READ</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class='c014' /> -<p class='c015'><span class='large'><b>WRITTEN IN THE SAND.</b></span> By G. R. DUVAL</p> - -<p class='c011'>This is a romance, perhaps it would be truer to say <em>THE</em> romance, of -the Sahara. For the desert, ever changing, ever mysterious, is less a setting -for than an actor in this dramatic story of love and adventure, -wherein the eternal word of all romance is written in the sand by a -beautiful English girl as her answer to a French captain of spahees.</p> - -<p class='c011'><b>Cloth, 335 pages. Decorated Jacket and Frontispiece by George Gibbs. -Price, $1.20 net. Postage, 14 cents.</b></p> - -<p class='c015'><span class='large'><b>THE RELUCTANT LOVER.</b></span> By STEPHEN McKENNA</p> - -<p class='c011'>The Reluctant Lover is the most modern of modern young men, and -still more advanced is the determined girl who sets out to capture his cool, -chaste heart. In portraying her and her preference for an unwilling rather -than a willing lover, Mr. Stephen McKenna strikes a note of refreshing -unconventionality and shows a profound knowledge of modern feminine -psychology that will especially delight his women readers.</p> - -<p class='c011'><b>Cloth, 340 pages. Decorated Jacket. Price, $1.20 net. Postage, 14 cts.</b></p> - -<p class='c015'><span class='large'><b>THE MYSTERY OF 31, NEW INN.</b></span> By R. AUSTIN FREEMAN</p> - -<p class='c011'>The fact that Jeffrey Blackmore made two wills, seemingly alike yet -cunningly different, caused John Thorndyke, master-mind, to suspect a -tragedy. With the logic and cool analysis of a lawyer and scientist he -works out and proves his theory in the most startling manner, bringing -the work to an amazing but thoroughly logical conclusion. In John -Thorndyke, Mr. Freeman has created one of the most fascinating -characters of recent fiction.</p> - -<p class='c011'><b>Cloth, 340 pages. Price, $1.20 net. 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This revelation by one “on the inside” is sure to appeal to a -large circle of readers.</p> - -<p class='c011'><b>Cloth, 320 pages. Price, $1.20 net. Postage, 12 cents.</b></p> - -<hr class='c016' /> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>The John C. Winston Company</div> - <div>WINSTON BUILDING PHILADELPHIA</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c004' /> -</div> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='section ph2'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - - <ol class='ol_1 c002'> - <li>Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - - </li> - <li>Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. - </li> - </ol> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sylvia, by Upton Sinclair - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SYLVIA *** - -***** This file should be named 61984-h.htm or 61984-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/1/9/8/61984/ - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, MWS, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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