“Does your master pay you for studying?”
“Does your master pay you for studying?”
The boy’s face grew crimson as he said:
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“If I am not wanted here I can stay away.”
“It would be much pleasanter for me if you would do so. I, myself, am a great reader of poetry, and this seems to be the most appropriate place to read, and I prefer to be alone.”
“I am very sorry that I have been in your way, and I will try in future not to trouble you,” Paul said, as, with a low bow, he left the room.
Irene fairly trembled with rage as she saw Paul bowing with as much politeness and composure as though he really were her equal.
“To think,” she said, “that he dare to look me straight in the eye as though he were reading my very thoughts; just as though he were as good as I am! I will make him learn his place, if Scott cannot; or rather, will not.”
In the hall Paul met June, who came bounding along, dressed in the most becoming blue muslin, trimmed with lace, and her golden hair tied with a blue ribbon and falling to her waist in a most bewitching fashion.
“Come, Paul! Scott says you can drive me out in the phaeton, if you will,” she said, approaching him.
Irene entered the doorway just in time to see Paul playfully pinch June’s pink cheek and to hear him say:
“How sweet you look, June!”
“Why, June,” said Irene, “do you ride with your brother’s hired help?”
“I ride with Paul.”
“Does mama allow it?”
“Why, yes; Scott says I can do so.”
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“And I suppose Scott’s will is law,” she said, trying to look pleasant and to smile.
“Oh, yes,” June said, returning the smile, which she did not understand as well as did Paul. “Yes, I always ask Scott.”
Irene said no more, and she allowed June to give her a good-bye kiss, just as Scott always did if June were going out only for an hour; but she lost no time in seeking an interview with her mother-in-law, whose nature was the most congenial of anyone around her. They were seated in Mrs. Wilmer’s room. Rene, as Mrs. Wilmer always called Scott’s wife, entered with a smile on her face, and of course just happened to speak of Paul and June riding together, not forgetting to mention the little piece of really playful familiarity, but which was highly colored.
“Of course, mama, I would not care, but I do so love darling little June that I really cannot bear to see her do anything improper, and I am sorry to say that she and Scott are both too regardless of caste. Don’t you think so, mama?”
“You are perfectly right, my dear Rene, and I am glad that your ideas coincide with my own. I have two of the dearest children in all the world, but to tell the truth, they are both like their father in regard to pride. The Wilmers never had enough for the high position they occupied in society.”
“Perhaps, between us both we may ingraft a little more pride in their natures, for I see they are sadly lacking.”
“It is possible that with your help I may accomplish83what I have failed to do alone, but I sometimes get really discouraged, for it seems so natural for them to have too little pride. Why, it is just as natural for June to stop and smile on some poor little beggar as if they were dressed in satin, and she has mortified me more than once by bowing to some shabbily-dressed school girl.”
“Of course it will not do. People in our position cannot bend to such servility. One thing I have noticed which I think should be checked, though I hope you will not openly rebuke June, for in that case she might think me a mischief maker, which I would not be for the world; but I have so often noticed Paul’s familiarity, and it has fairly made my blood boil. June says they are like brother and sister, but you know it is very convenient for young people to feel a sort of relationship for each other, and if you will watch closely you will see for yourself that she has a dangerous love for him.”
“It may be true, but I have never thought of June being so silly as to care for the society of Paul, especially as I have so often cautioned her not to bring herself down to his level, and really had felt quite easy on the matter, seeing him appear so distant and seeming to know his place so well; and really, they are nothing but children.”
“Well, of course you must keep this a secret, but June did speak quite impudently to me the other day when I reproved her. She said she would be apt to keep Paul’s company as long as he remained here. You should have seen how angrily the boy looked at me,84and how proud and defiant his look when June defended him. I could have annihilated him, and if June is so determined to keep his company I think the wisest plan is to send him away.”
“Scott would never consent to that. He says he is a perfect jewel and he would not part with him under any consideration, and now, dear Rene, I warn you to deal very cautiously with Scott, for he never commits one act without first studying every particular, and weighing well the result, and I believe if ever I were to wrong Paul, or anyone else, and he knew me to be in the wrong, he would never forgive me until he had seen justice done.”
When Irene spoke so insultingly to Paul it sank like an arrow into his heart.
“I would not care so much if she were not Mr. Wilmer’s wife; but, oh, I do hope she will not make him dislike me; I would rather die,” he said to June.
“Oh, do not say that! I am sure you could live even if Scott were to forsake you.”
“Could I? I do not believe it.”
“Well, I do not believe she could make Scott dislike you, and if she does, why, I will be your sister always—as long as you live.”
Paul looked a thousand thanks as he turned to June, saying:
“I shall always remember that, my little sister, and if your brother should turn against me, I shall at least have one friend.”
“You may be sure of that; so please do not look sorry85any more. I am sure mama will treat you well, too.”
“Yes, she will, if——”
He was about to say if she is not influenced, but not wishing to hold up before June her mother’s weak traits, he said:
“If she can.”
He knew Mrs. Wilmer’s failing as well as though he had been a man of years.
86CHAPTER XII.A CLOUD.
Two years had gone by since Scott’s marriage, when one evening he entered his wife’s room and found her standing before the mirror putting the finishing touches to her rich and becoming toilet. Scott’s brain was weary, for he had been studying all day over a very perplexing case which he had set out to win, and with very little foundation to work on. He threw himself on the soft velvet cushions of the crimson sofa, placing his hand over his brow, as if to still the throbbing of his temples. Irene, dressed in a pale pink satin, with sweeping train and airy lace overdress looped up with moss rosebuds, with diamond set necklace and bracelets, and the tip of her satin slipper just in view, presented a very pretty picture to Scott, but he was somewhat surprised that she did not speak, or even smile.
“Are you going out?” he asked.
“Oh, Scott! I almost forgot that you were here.”
“So I observe.”
“Yes, I meant to have spoken of it before. Of course you know that this is the night of the Vandyke ball.”
87
“I had not thought of it.”
“Why do you not go?”
“I did not know that anyone wished me to,” he answered.
“Oh, dear! Of course you know that I wish you to go, but you are such a recluse of late that you almost seem out of place in society.”
“Perhaps I am out of place. It would almost seem that I am out of place in my wife’s society.”
“How you talk! You have a right to go if you wish. I suppose you were included in the invitation.”
“I suppose I have a right, but I have no desire.”
“Then I am not to blame.”
“Who attends you?”
“Colonel Brunswick.”
“That villain? You shall not go with him,” he said, starting up.
“Shall not?” she repeated, turning quickly.
“Excuse me, Irene, but it is my wish that you ignore that man’s society at once.”
“He is one of the most stylish men of my acquaintance.”
“He has no principle.”
“Oh, Scott!” she said, with a toss of her head. “Really, you do put a wonderful amount of stress on virtue, and think as little of style as though you were raised among a band of gypsies.”
Scott’s lips closed firmly. Such words from his wife astonished him. He arose, and trying to hide the wound which her words had caused, he said, as he came nearer:
88
“Irene, it is my wish that you either remain at home or allow me to be your escort.”
“How you talk! That would be unreasonable, since I have promised the colonel.”
“And you gave your consent without first consulting your husband?”
“Why, yes; I knew you would not think it proper; and you are so taken up with drudgery that you do not seem to care for society, and the colonel really wishes me to go.”
“Are his wishes to be consulted before mine?”
“Why, no; but really, Scott, you are making a great ado about nothing. If you went into society more you would see how very fashionable it is for married ladies to allow gentlemen, not their husbands, to escort them to parties.”
Scott Wilmer folded his arms across his breast, and with his searching hazel eyes fixed upon his wife’s face, he said:
“Irene, if you leave this house to-night with Colonel Brunswick as your escort you do so entirely against my will. I forbid the action.”
She fastened her rich carriage cloak with nervous fingers, but she did not say that she would remain. She was too vain to think of giving up the pleasure of being the chosen one of the handsomest and most stylishly dressed gentleman who would be at the party. She was not possessed of enough depth of character to see how vastly superior was the man before her to the handsome, unscrupulous villain who was to bear her company. She did not realize the full value of the89pearl she was casting away, and in her weakness she answered:
“I go, leaving youbon gre, mal gre.”
“He is a bold, unscrupulous villain,” said Scott, with a scornful ring in his voice.
“I guess no one thinks so but yourself,” Irene answered, angrily, “and you would not if your tastes were——”
“What?”
“Comme il faut.”
“Thank you!” said Scott, stung to the heart. “I am glad it is so, then. Are you going?”
“I see no way to avoid it now, for the colonel would be much displeased as well as disappointed.”
“Very well,” he said, closing his mouth in a way that Irene knew just how to interpret.
A knock was heard at the door, and Paul, with a low bow, announced a gentleman waiting in the parlor for Mrs. Wilmer.
“Au revoir, mon cher!” said Irene, waving her gloved hand to Scott, who stood gazing after her as she left the room.
“Good bye, Irene!” he said, in a firm, low voice. Then he heard the hall door close, and he knew his wife had gone—left his home regardless of his wishes, or the opinion of others, for a few hours of giddy pleasure.
In the last year she had grown careless of his wishes and more selfish in regard to her own. It seemed that she was growing more fond of the gay world, more desirous90of flattery, and more regardless of home happiness.
Scott tried to cover her faults with the generosity of his love, but they were daily becoming more and more apparent. He began to think that the faults had always been there, and that for a time she had been enabled to hide them, and that now, in her weakness, she was unable to do so. The truth was she was simply showing out her nature, which she had deemed it prudent heretofore to conceal.
But she was a Wilmer now, and there was not so much necessity to exert herself to conceal them. She knew, as did others, that she dressed with exquisite taste, and that no lady passed her on the street without a flattering comment. But aside from the outside adornments and fair face none ever thought of praising her. She was two years older than Scott, but she took great care that it should not be spoken of. Scott’s family were highly esteemed, and he was called a talented man, and was wealthy. That was Irene’s reason for wishing to become a Wilmer. But though Irene grew more and more careless, and less fond of her own home, Scott tried to hide her faults from others, resolving to do his best to persuade her to give up some of her vain, trifling pleasures, and he would do all in his power to make her happy.
As Irene left the house Scott followed Paul to the library. Seating himself beside Paul, he said:
“Paul, I wish to give you some instruction in regard to a little business which I wish you to do for me. In the meantime I wish to ask you why you pass so little91of your time in the library of late. Are you tired of your studies?”
“I have not left off my studies, Mr. Wilmer.”
“You do not come to the library as much as usual; why is it?”
Paul cast his eyes to the floor. At length he said in a tremulous voice:
“I study in my room.”
“That is a new freak, is it not? Do you prefer it?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why have you abandoned the habit of coming to the library?”
“I would rather not tell you.”
Scott looked searchingly at the boy for a moment and said:
“Paul, I think there is some reason why you have ceased to come to the library. It may be a good reason or a flimsy one; but there is a reason, and I wish to know it.”
“Mr. Wilmer, there is a reason, and a very good one; will not that satisfy you?”
“No; I must know what it is.”
“You have a right to know, but I would rather you did not.”
“Paul,” he said, “you have been in my home for some time, and since you came you have never disobeyed me in any way, or deceived me by one act; will you begin it now?”
Paul was silent, and Scott continued:
“It may be a trivial matter, but I wish to know it.”
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Paul paused a moment, and then as the tears dropped from his heavy lashes, he said:
“Mr. Wilmer, I do not care for myself, but I know it will grieve you. It was Mrs. Wilmer who ordered me to stay away.”
“What! my mother?”
“No, sir; your wife.”
“What reason did she give?”
“She said she wished to occupy it herself a greater part of the time.”
“Is she really so selfish?” Scott asked.
“I think she had a good reason, or she would not have told me so.”
“There is another subject that I wish to speak of, and that is the use of your money. You never seem to indulge in any extravagant pleasure, as many a boy does, and I would like to ask you what you are doing with it?”
Paul blushed as he answered:
“I have saved all but that which was necessary for me to spend.”
“That is a good plan. I have no doubt you will use it judiciously.”
“I hope to place it where it will bring me more value some day.”
“One thing more I wish to say to you. Then you may be left to your studies. I wish you to do an errand for me to-morrow evening which I cannot well do for myself, as I shall be busy at the time. I am to meet a friend at the depot who is to take the midnight train, and as it will be impossible for me to be there at that93hour, and there is no other whom I feel like trusting, I would like you to do the errand for me. You will not be afraid to be out alone, will you?”
Paul laughed at the idea of a boy of his age being afraid in a little city like Detroit.
Scott left Paul and went to his own room. His brain was too busy for sleep, and he sat down and fell into a deep study. It seemed that there was a world of things on hand to-night. First, there was that intricate suit that he was about to undertake. He was gaining great popularity as a lawyer, and some very important suits had been given into his hands to work up, and now he was about to undertake one which involved a great deal of careful study. Then there was a young man who had held a consultation with him in regard to June. He was desperately in love with her and wished Scott to intercede for him. Then there was Colonel Brunswick, to whom his mind reverted, who was, no doubt, playing the agreeable to his wife, while others were pitying him because she had neglected him for the colonel. He sat studying upon one subject and another, until, weary in body and mind, he sought his couch.
94CHAPTER XIII.A BOLD PLOT.
“June, can you tell me where Irene has gone?” said Scott the next evening, as he entered the family sitting-room.
“No,” June replied, “she told me she was obliged to go and see a friend, and would not be home until quite late.”
“Was she dressed as though going to a party?”
“Oh, no; she wore a very dark suit and the plainest hat she has.”
“It is strange,” Scott said, as he seated himself in an easy-chair. “Do you think she went unattended?”
“I am quite sure she did,” June said, noticing the troubled look on Scott’s face, and then seating herself close beside him, and leaning on the cushioned arm of his chair, she said:
“Scott, how weary and troubled you look! Please tell me what makes you.”
“Do I look troubled? Well, I have a very perplexing case on hand, and I am bound to see justice done to the party who is deserving, whichever one it is.”
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“Oh, but you must remember you are a lawyer, and you must win whatever side you take.”
“If I find I am wrong, I would rather fail than win.”
“Then is that all that troubles you?”
“Oh, no,” Scott answered with a smile. “There was a very important case came before me to-day—or, let me see—I guess it was yesterday. A very much love-smitten youth by the name of Jones interviewed me for the purpose of speaking to me of my sister June.”
“Oh, dear! Henry Jones! I sent him a note only a week ago, refusing his attentions.”
“He is quite persistent.”
“I think he is; but is that all that troubles you? Tell me, truly, Scott, are you not troubled about Rene?”
“Never mind, June; we will not talk about her. I think she will return soon.”
“Certainly; she has not gone to stay.”
Scott looked about the richly furnished room and wondered why his wife could not find enough of happiness in her own beautiful home, without seeking it abroad, as she seemed of late to do.
“June, go find Paul, please, and tell him to bring ‘Bitter Sweet’ and read to me.”
“That will be delightful. I love to hear him read better than any person I ever listened to,” June said, as she went in search of Paul.
“I never have any trouble finding him,” she said, as she returned; “for if he is not in the library he is in his own room, and I found him working away with his pen as though his living depended upon it.”
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“I am afraid it would be a poor living that I would gain from that,” said Paul, as he took a seat by the table.
The time passed much quicker to Scott than he had imagined, for the clear, rich tones and the perfect elocution of the boy’s reading served in a measure to carry his mind away to the scenes portrayed in the poem, and ere he was aware the time came for Paul to prepare to attend to the transaction of the business which Scott had spoken of the evening previous. Scott having some letters and manuscripts of importance to examine, went to his room to attend to the work, saying that he wished to retire as early as possible, as he was very much in need of rest, and cautioning Paul to go out well protected against the weather, for it was growing very cold.
The clouds were hanging darkly overhead, and by the time that Paul had finished his errand an intense darkness covered the city. The clouds had begun to throw out a snowflake here and there, and the driving wind from the river kept up a furious howl. Paul was passing an old shed that stood in a woodyard, when he thought he saw a dark figure glide along and crouch under its roof. His curiosity was aroused, as no one, he thought, would be in such a place at such an hour of the night unless bent on mischief. Paul walked on as though he had not noticed the figure, and stole slyly around to the back of the old building, coming so close to the figure that only the boards separated the two. It was so dark that Paul had no fear of detection, so he stood there awaiting further developments. A half97hour passed when the man, muttering, as though speaking to himself, said:
“She’s a devilish long time getting here.”
At that moment another person entered the old building. Paul could not see the face, but the sound of the voice caused his heart to beat wildly. It was a woman’s voice, and one strangely familiar. He pressed his hand above his heart to still its wild throbbing, and in breathless silence listened to the words which followed, placing his ear close to a crevice in the partition.
“You were a devilish long while getting here,” said the man. “Why don’t you keep a fellow standing here all night? Who do you think wants to freeze?”
“Well, you need not be so cross, Mr. Crisp. You are rightly named, any way. I came as soon as I could; of course I had to be cautious; you must know that.”
“Where is your husband?”
“At home, asleep, I suppose.”
“Devilish fool! He had better be looking after his wife.”
“Oh, I do not think he suspects.”
“Good thing for you.”
“And a good thing for you, too.”
“Well, hand over the money!”
“I have none to-night. I was obliged to use all I had for other purposes, and my allowance is gone.”
“Gone! Don’t your father keep you in change?”
“Yes, but——”
“But what?”
“I let the colonel have my last installment. The98poor fellow got into trouble, and I had to help him out.”
“A pretty piece of business! I guess you had better look out for your own people first, if you know what is good for you. Remember, if you don’t come to time you know what will happen. You understand, don’t you?”
“Of course; but I see no way but for you to wait until I get my next installment. You know I can’t get the money until then.”
“The deuce! Do you think I am going to wait that long? Go to your husband! You married him to get the use of his money; you know you did.”
“Yes; but I cannot go to him for that amount.”
“You must! What do you think I’m going to do your thieving work for if I don’t get pay for it? Send Brunswick to the devil. I’ve got into a scrape, too, that nothing but money will get me out of, and you must get it, or by Heaven, I’ll tell your husband all—even about the will.”
“Crisp, don’t you dare to tell him that.”
“What don’t I dare do?”
“Anything, I guess; but I don’t see how I can do anything for you now.”
“I won’t wait, and that is all there is about it. I must have the money to-morrow. If you can’t do it one way, you must another.”
“What can I do?”
“I’ll contrive a plan for you.”
“What?”
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“Go to your husband’s purse and get the money for me.”
“I can’t do it, for if he should find me out it would ruin all my plans. You know I have twice taken money for you, and if he should miss it again, he would investigate until every one in the house was brought before him. He is more cunning than you can imagine.”
“Then drug him, and I’ll do the work if you will find a way for me to get in.”
“He is a good man; you must not harm him.”
“Well, you trust to me! Oh, you need not go to putting on any of your airs. What would you be if you hadn’t money? And how would you have gotten the money if it hadn’t been for old——”
“Hush! Don’t you breathe it.”
“Well, then, don’t forget what you owe old Meg. You know what you promised. I’ve got the will right here, and when you get the money you can have it.”
“Hark! Some one will hear you! You promised my father something long ago, and you never have done it yet.”
“Well, now, see here, Rene, if you will find a way for me to put my hands on two hundred to-morrow night—no, that would not do. I must have it to-morrow, and to-night is the last chance. If you will arrange for me to find it I will fix the business up for you right away.”
“I’ll do my best. You will find the amount in my husband’s drawer in the right hand corner of a little private secretary in his sleeping-room. He always100keeps his spare change there. Come at two to-night, and I will see that everything is ready for you; but Crisp, I wanted to ask you if you have the girl now.”
“No; she ran away one night in a thunderstorm, and we hain’t found her yet.”
“That is fine! Suppose something should happen that some one should find her!”
“Oh, how the deuce is anyone going to find it out? There ain’t the least thing to go by. Why, she may be dead before this time.”
“Yes, she may be, but it is not very likely that she is.”
Paul grew almost faint. He knew that the woman’s voice was that of Scott’s wife. He was sure of it. And the man had called her Rene. But why was she there at that late hour conversing in such a place with such a man? Oh, how Paul’s heart ached for good, generous, noble, much wronged Scott Wilmer! He hoped Scott would never know of his wife’s treachery. He had learned now from her own lips that she had not married Scott for love, but for wealth and a position in society. How could Irene help seeing what a prize she had won in such a man!
“Now, don’t you forget what you are about,” said Crisp, for he it was who had been holding the conversation with Scott’s wife.
“No,” she answered, folding her dark wrap close about her. “I am nearly frozen, and I must get home.”
She left the place, and ere long was followed by Crisp, who, when he reached the walk, went in an opposite direction. Paul waited until the two had gone far101enough that they could not hear his footsteps. He followed Irene, however, keeping well in the rear. He wished to be certain that he had not been deceived, so he kept up his watch until he saw her enter the great hall door.
After remaining long enough outside so not to arouse her suspicions he entered the house, going directly to his room.
He would bear any pain rather than see Scott’s suffering, should the truth be revealed, so whatever he planned must be done without help and without his employer’s knowledge. He knew the exact hour when the villain would make his appearance and he waited patiently for the time to come. The door of his room, which opened into Scott’s, he left lightly ajar, that he might watch every movement, for he knew that Crisp would enter from the hall. Irene had gone to her own room. The inmates of the house were all asleep except Paul and Irene, both waiting and watching with feverish anxiety. With cautious step Irene glided down the softly carpeted stairs, and turned the lock in the great heavy door; then returned to her room to wait for the villain who was to take her husband’s money, and perhaps his life. A stealthy footstep soon fell upon the hall floor, and a man stealing along with catlike motions pushed the door carefully open and entered Scott’s room. He stopped for a moment under the dim gaslight which fell upon his hideous features, and, looking about the room, gave one long stride and reached the money drawer. Paul’s heart throbbed wildly. He knew there was no time to be lost. Should he take the102villain’s life? He knew he deserved it, but could he do the deed? Yes, rather than that Scott should suffer, he could. There was a slight movement of the bedclothes, and, with the look of a demon resting on his face, Crisp drew a long knife from his pocket and raised his hand to strike. Quick as the lightning’s flash Paul raised his pistol, and with steady aim fired. The ball struck the villain’s arm and he fled like a wounded deer, screaming with pain. Paul stooped and picked up the knife and a paper which the wounded man had dropped, and placed them in his pocket. Scott raised his head just as Crisp was leaving the door. Mrs. Wilmer entered the room, pale and trembling, and, sinking into a chair, asked:
“Oh, Scott, are you killed?”
“No one is harmed but a burglar,” Paul answered, calmly, “and he is only wounded. I just caught sight of him in the act of drawing a knife over Mr. Wilmer’s head. I expect he was looking for money, as his first attempt was in that direction, but when he saw Mr. Wilmer move he thought best to quiet him, so I judge by his actions. I did not intend to kill him, but I guess he has learned a lesson which he will not soon forget.”
The next day the sole topic of conversation throughout the house was the heroic action of Paul, who had saved its inmates from a terrible sorrow, and not one could find words to express their deep gratitude unless it might have been Irene. She tried hard to join the rest in praising Paul, but he knew that in her heart she was laying up curses against him, though he did not know just how deeply she had planned to ruin him.
“O, Scott! Are you killed?”
“O, Scott! Are you killed?”
103CHAPTER XIV.BRIGHT HOPES.
It was June’s seventeenth birthday. She stood on the broad veranda gazing up at the sky. The day was not as bright as June wished it to be, for the sun would peep out now and then to stay but a moment, then hide behind a cloud, which seemed to waft a breeze softly down on June’s bright, happy face.
“I hope it will be a pleasant evening,” she said, half aloud, “for it is so much nicer to have a party when the weather is fine, and I shall almost be out of patience if it rains.”
Scott and Paul were just coming up the shady walk.
“Will you not take the time to visit me a little while this morning?” she asked. “You know I shall never be seventeen years old again, and I would like to speak to you of the party I shall give to-night.”
“Here is your first guest, then,” said Paul, as he accepted the seat June offered him. “I present him to you with my sincere wish that every birthday may be as bright as this your seventeenth.”
“Thank you, Paul! Many thanks for so lovely a104present,” June said, as she lifted the bright cage containing a parrot, which Paul offered her.
“What is your name, sir?” she asked.
“Bob!” croaked the bird. “Pretty Bob.”
“I shall cherish him in remembrance of you, Paul,” said June, “and how nice he will be to amuse poor Papa. He is obliged to keep his room so much of late.”
“Is he no better to-day?” Scott asked, with an anxious look.
“Yes, much better, and is out riding with mama.”
“Sit down here, little one,” Scott said, drawing a chair near his own. “I have brought you a little present to start the day with. I wish you to look at it.”
June seated herself by Scott and took from his hand a beautifully bound book of poems.
“It is by some new author—at least new to me; but it is a beautiful poem. I took the liberty to read it before presenting it to you.”
“‘A Gift from the Sea,’” said June, looking at the title. “I wonder——”
“What?”
“I was thinking that perhaps it might be Rene who wrote this.”
“I hardly think so,” said Scott, “although she does considerable writing, I do not think she ever wrote that.”
“Why?”
“One reason is that I do not think she would ever have the patience. This work is prepared with a great deal of care. I thought perhaps you might be interested,105as well as to gain some valuable information from it, for there are some rare gems of thought contained in its pages.”
“I know I shall enjoy it,” said June.
“You will find, by careful perusal, that it is like a fine edifice, each stone of which is laid by a master workman. The inborn talent is the cornerstone, and each rock is carefully hewn and placed in its proper niche, making the foundation solid as well as beautiful.”
“Do you think, then,” Paul asked, “that the poet who wrote that worked hard to construct it?”
“Poets are born, not made; but careful study and patience serve to smooth the rough edges, as the edges are natural to the unhewn marble. The finest quality wears not its glassy surface until the sculptor’s hand has chiselled and polished it to his will, and while the edifice may be beautiful to look upon for a time, without the solid foundation it may be broken by the first touch of the critic’s hand. The poet who wrote that little book never did so without work, although he may have felt the inspiration of poetic zeal while he worked.”
“It is strange,” said June, “that we have such different qualifications. I can see great beauty in some poems, but I never could put the beauty there.”
“I can see much beauty in that poem. I can feel its loveliness, but I could never put the poem together as that poet did, any more than I could trim a lady’s bonnet,” said Scott.
“Then you believe that every person is born with a taste for a certain occupation?” said June.
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“Yes,” said Scott, “everyone must have a talent, either small or great, and each one must work to cultivate it, if he would have it increase, or he may let it die for want of proper training.”
“I guess my talent must have died, then,” said June, “for I shall never make a mark in the world at anything.”
“Every true, good, pure-minded woman makes a mark, my dear sister, and it is not always the great in name who are really the most worthy of note, although I honor the labor of a grand achievement. The private soldier who is foremost in battle is far more a hero than the most noted general, though he wears not the sword and plume.”
“I am afraid it would be the hardest work of all for me to be a hero in goodness,” said Paul.
“Why?” asked June.
“Because it is so natural to be wicked and selfish.”
“I think all your selfishness lies in your desire for knowledge,” said June.
“That is no doubt uncontrollable,” said Scott, looking at Paul and wondering how June or any one else could resist the charm of his great dreamy eyes. But he supposed that June had hardly thought of love, and Paul was only a boy. He thought of it being her birthday, but could hardly realize that she was seventeen. He knew that she had plenty of admirers, but he hoped that she had not thought of marrying one of them.
She spoke to Scott of the number of invitations107sent out, and among them was the name of Colonel Brunswick.
“Did you invite Brunswick?” he asked.
“Rene sent him the invitation,” said June.
Scott’s hazel eyes grew darker with the fire that shone in them. Paul, with his keenly perceptive powers, knew that there was a fierce struggle going on in his breast, and never did he pity the most miserable slave more than he pitied him at that moment. He was aware of Scott’s wonderful self-control, and he sent up a silent prayer that he might become like him, and that the noble man might yet see happier hours. Of Irene’s true character Paul already knew more than did Scott, and he feared that instead of his life clouds dispersing, they would continue to grow blacker; but he had a hope, slight though it was, that the scene which had been enacted on that dismal night would not be repeated.
“It looks cloudy,” said June. “I want my birthday of all the year to be a pleasant one.”
“I hope they will all be cloudless,” said Scott, “but, June, I can hardly realize that you are seventeen. Many a young lady is married at that age.”
“Many are very silly, then. I have not the least idea of giving up the best of my life by getting married.”
“You are looking as sweet as a rose, June,” Irene said as she entered June’s room, faultlessly dressed, on the evening of that day. “I know mama will be delighted with your dress; it fits to perfection. I hope you will make the most of your opportunities. Mr. Linton will be captivated, I know.”
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“Mr. Linton!” June repeated, as her lip curled scornfully.
“Oh, I know what that means. It is a very good sign,” Rene said laughing.
“It is a sign that I care very little for Mr. Linton’s opinion. His dress will no doubt be faultless.”
“And he be perfectly irresistible.”
“Not so much so as Mr. Horton,” June said, looking archly at Rene.
“Who is this Mr. Horton that you have invited?”
“Guy Horton and sister have both been invited. They live out West, and are visiting the Egglestons, where I met them some time ago. They are relatives of Mrs. Platts’ of this city.”
“Country people, are they? Why, what will Mr. Linton think?”
“What do I care what he thinks? He is not superintending this affair. Perhaps I had better try the power of this new dress on Colonel Brunswick.”
A jealous pang shot through Irene’s heart, but she dare not reveal it, but June looked up just in time to catch the strange look that passed over her sister’s face, for she had been suspicious of Rene’s admiration for the colonel, and June never forgot the look which Irene gave her. Her eyes grew strangely large and dark, and her face flushed and paled alternately, but June was wise enough not to betray her suspicion, though she decided from that moment to find, if possible, what Irene really did think of him. Max Brunswick was a very handsome man, but she wondered that Rene could not see at once that he never would, or ever could, reach109the standard of true greatness that Scott occupied. She would not accuse her sister, even in thought, if she were guiltless, so she determined to satisfy herself if she could.
Irene calmed her enraged feelings enough to speak, and turning her face that the light might not fall full upon it, she said:
“Oh, as to Max Brunswick, I would not waste my time on him, when there are golden fish floating so near, and all you have to do is to bait with a smile.”
“But Brunswick is very handsome,” June said, as she arose and walked carelessly past Rene toward the mirror, and glancing at her face to note the effect of her words, “and since so many of the girls are half crazy about him, I should follow the fashion, although none of them know the first word of his pedigree. And really it is not only the young, but the married ladies as well.”
“Of course the married ones have no idea of falling in love with him, but he is such a society man, and of course it is nothing more than belongs to fashionable society to accept the attention of such men. It is very pleasant to entertain them.”
“If I ever marry I shall never accept or even wish to accept attentions from any but the man I marry.”
“Suppose that you marry a man entirely unsuited to your tastes, what then? Suppose that he is so taken up with his books or his business that he has no time or desire for pleasure of any kind, what would you do?”
The question went like an arrow to June’s heart, for she knew that Rene’s mind dwelt on her own choice,110though she uttered the words not thinking how they would sound to June.
“Rene,” June said in a sober tone, “I have made up my mind to one thing, and that is that I shall never be married without first studying the character of the man I intend to marry.”
“Oh, dear,” said Rene with a laugh, “you will have a great job on your hands if you set out to find what sort of a husband you are getting.”
“I will undertake the job.”
“I think, then, you will be an old maid.”
“That would be preferable to living an inharmonious life.”
“I think you will find Mr. Linton quite to your taste.”
“I think the colonel might suit me better,” said June, looking again at Irene.
“Silly, like a great many other girls,” said Rene with a forced laugh, thinking at the time that she would spoil her little game. “But,” said she, turning around before the mirror, “you have not told me how you like my costume.”
“You look very pretty, Rene, and that cream silk is wonderfully becoming. I am sure Scott will be pleased with your choice. You dress with exquisite taste.”
“Thank you for the compliment, but as regards Scott, I do not think he ever knows what I wear. Why, the night that I attended the party with the colonel, you remember I wore pale pink satin, and he just went into ecstacies over it, and said I was the most beautiful111and the most tastily dressed woman there. But Scott never even told me I looked pretty.”
“He may have thought so, though; you know Scott is not at all given to flattery, and he thinks much more than he says.”
“I would rather he would do more talking and less thinking, then. There is some satisfaction in knowing whether you please one or not.”
“I should be quite satisfied to know that I did not displease.”
“You are more easily satisfied than I am; but, June, I cannot get over the idea of your inviting those country people. I hope they will not look real shabby.”
“Oh, I guess they will at least have clean faces,” said June, significantly.
“The guests are already beginning to arrive,” said Paul, as he stepped to the door.
“Is it not too bad? I asked Paul to take part in some of the dances, and he very politely but decidedly refused. He said that he might look in occasionally, but the greater part of the evening he should devote to papa’s amusement.”
“That is quite proper, and it is well for you that he refused. It would have looked extremely out of place for your brother’s valet to appear with your guests.”
“I suppose it would have been the means of our losing caste,” said June, a little sarcastically.
At that moment Scott appeared.
He stopped a moment, feasting his eyes on June’s bright face and beautiful dress, then an admiring glance112rested on his wife, but he said nothing, only politely offering himself as their escort.
It seemed a wonder to Irene that Scott could not see how sweetly June was dressed. Her dress of pale blue satin, cut just low enough to reveal the lovely white neck, the delicate sprays of forget-me-not and sapphire jewels were wondrously becoming to her fair complexion and sunny hair, and Irene, although possessed of an envious nature, could not help acknowledging that June looked lovely indeed.
“June,” said Irene, as later in the evening they were standing together, “who is that sweet looking girl you introduced me to—the one in that rich garnet silk? I did not quite understand her name.”
“Why, that is Miss Horton, the country girl,” said June, biting her under lip.
“Why, what little dimpled hands she has.”
“Yes; they are very pretty. That fine, intelligent young man talking to Scott is her brother Guy.”
“Is it possible? Thereissomething fine looking about him.”
“Oh, yes; they say he is quite an orator, as well as a literary person, and is talking of starting a publishing house somewhere. Mr. Eggleston tells me he is very ambitious.”
“You must introduce me when he and Scott have finished that very earnest conversation. You know I am partial to literary people, and don’t forget to mention that I write.”
“You have forgotten that he is from the country.”