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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..022fa67 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63250 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63250) diff --git a/old/63250-0.txt b/old/63250-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 05b7484..0000000 --- a/old/63250-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6535 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Across The Chasm, by Julia Magruder - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Across The Chasm - -Author: Julia Magruder - -Release Date: September 20, 2020 [EBook #63250] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE CHASM *** - - - - -Produced by D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - -ACROSS THE CHASM - - - - - SCRIBNER’S POPULAR SERIES OF - COPYRIGHT NOVELS - - Each 75 - 12mo Cents - - - WILLIAM WALDORF ASTOR VALENTINO: AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE - ARLO BATES A WHEEL OF FIRE - H. H. BOYESEN FALCONBERG - MRS. BURNETT THAT LASS O’ LOWRIE’S - “ “ VAGABONDIA: A LOVE STORY - G. W. CABLE JOHN MARCH, SOUTHERNER - EDITH CARPENTER YOUR MONEY OR YOUR LIFE - EDWARD EGGLESTON THE CIRCUIT RIDER - HAROLD FREDERIC THE LAWTON GIRL - ROBERT GRANT FACE TO FACE - MARION HARLAND JUDITH: A CHRONICLE OF OLD VIRGINIA - JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS FREE JOE AND OTHER SKETCHES - JULIAN HAWTHORNE A FOOL OF NATURE - J. G. HOLLAND SEVENOAKS: A STORY OF TO-DAY - “ “ THE BAY PATH: A TALE OF COLONIAL LIFE - “ “ ARTHUR BONNICASTLE: AN AMERICAN STORY - “ “ MISS GILBERT’S CAREER - “ “ NICHOLAS MINTURN - COM’R J. D. J. KELLEY A DESPERATE CHANCE - G. P. LATHROP AN ECHO OF PASSION - JULIA MAGRUDER ACROSS THE CHASM - BRANDER MATTHEWS THE LAST MEETING - DONALD G. MITCHELL DREAM LIFE - “ “ REVERIES OF A BACHELOR - HOWARD PYLE WITHIN THE CAPES - “Q” (A. T. QUILLER-COUCH) THE SPLENDID SPUR - “ “ “ THE DELECTABLE DUCHY - R. L. STEVENSON THE EBB-TIDE - “ “ TREASURE ISLAND - “ “ THE WRONG BOX - F. J. STIMSON GUERNDALE - FRANK R. STOCKTON RUDDER GRANGE - “ “ THE LADY OR THE TIGER - - - - - ACROSS THE CHASM - - BY - JULIA MAGRUDER - - NEW YORK - CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - 1899 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1885, - BY CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS. - - - MANHATTAN PRESS - 474 W. BROADWAY - NEW YORK - - - - -ACROSS THE CHASM. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -Margaret Trevennon was young and beautiful. Her faithful biographer can -say no less, though aware of the possibility that, on this account, the -satiated reader of romances may make her acquaintance with a certain -degree of reluctance, reflecting upon the two well-worn types--the -maiden in the first flush of youth, who is so immaculately lovely -as to be extremely improbable, and the maturer female, who is so -strong-minded as to be wholly ineligible to romantic situations. If -there be only these two classes Miss Trevennon must needs be ranged -with the former. Certainly the particular character of her beauty -foreordained her to romantic situations, although it must be said, on -the other hand, that the term “strong-minded” was one which had been -more than once applied to her by those who should have known her best. - -She lived with her parents on the outskirts of a small Southern town, -in a dilapidated old house, that had once been a grand mansion. The -days of its splendid hospitality had passed away long since, and as -far back as Margaret’s memory went the same monotonous tranquillity -had pervaded its lofty corridors and spacious rooms. In spite of this, -however, it was a pleasant, cheerful home, and the girl’s life, up -to her nineteenth year, had been passed very happily in it. She had -had occasional changes of scene, such as a visit to New Orleans or a -brief season at some small Southern watering-place; but she had never -been North, and so by birth and circumstance, as well as by instinct -and training, she was a genuine Southern girl. The fact that Mr. -Trevennon had managed to save from the wreck of his large fortune a -small independence, had afforded his daughter the opportunity of seeing -something of men and manners beyond her own hearthstone, and this, -together with her varied and miscellaneous reading, gave her a range of -vision wider and higher than that enjoyed by the other young people of -Bassett, and had imbued her with certain theories and opinions which -made them regard her as eccentric. - -One bright autumnal day, when the weather was still warm and sunny -in this fair Southern climate, Miss Trevennon, clad in an airy white -costume, and protected from the sun by a veil and parasol, took her -way with the rather quick motions usual with her, down the main street -of Bassett. When she reached the corner on which Martin’s drug store -was situated, she crossed over and passed down on the opposite side; -but, doubly screened as she was, she turned her eyes in that direction -and took a hurried survey of the loungers assembled on the pavement. -Perhaps it was because her gaze especially sought him out that she -saw Charley Somers first. This was a young man who had been her -unrequited adorer, hoping against hope, ever since they had gone to -the village school together, and Margaret had all her life been trying, -in a flashing, impetuous way that she had, to fire him with some of -the energy and enthusiasm which she herself possessed so abundantly, -and in which this pleasant, easy, indolent young Southerner was so -absolutely lacking. Young Somers had come of a long line of affluent -and luxurious ancestors, and though cut off from an inheritance in -their worldly possessions, he had fallen heir to many of their personal -characteristics, which hung about him like fetters of steel. - -Although Miss Trevennon hurriedly averted her gaze after that one swift -glance, she had received a distinct impression of Mr. Somers’ whole -manner and attitude, as he sat with his chair tipped back against the -wall, his heels caught on its topmost round, his straw hat pushed back -from his delicate, indolent face, and a pipe between his lips. In -this way he would sit for hours, ringing the changes on the somewhat -restricted theme of county politics with the loungers who frequented -“Martin’s.” The mere thought of it, much more the sight, infuriated -Miss Trevennon. She could not grow accustomed to it, in spite of long -habituation. - -As she tripped along, erect and quick, she heard a familiar footstep -behind her, and in a moment more was joined by the young man. - -“Where are you going?” he said, giving his hat a little careless push -and re-settlement, without lifting it from his head. “May I go with you -and carry your basket?” - -“If you like,” said Margaret, distantly, yielding up to him the little -white-covered basket. “I am going to see Uncle Mose.” - -“As usual! What has Uncle Mose done to be so petted? I wish you would -treat me with half as much consideration.” - -“I don’t think you entitled to it,” she answered. “Uncle Mose is at the -end of a long life of continuous, patient labor, and has won a right to -my consideration, which you never have. You have often heard me say, of -course, that ever since I’ve been able to form an opinion at all, I’ve -been a thorough-going Abolitionist; but all the same, I think there is -virtue in a system which _makes_ a man work, whether he wills it or -not. Servitude itself seems to me a nobler life than absolute idleness.” - -“Oh, the same old thing!” said the young man, wearily. “I wonder when -you will give up expecting me to be a paragon!” - -“I’ve given it up long ago. I’ve seen the futility of any such -expectation; but I will never give up wishing that you would be a man, -and do something worthy of a man.” - -“You can’t say I don’t work. I attend to my cases, and am always on -hand during court week.” - -“Provided it doesn’t clash with fishing week or hunting week, or any -pursuit that happens to offer a more attractive prospect than that of -discussing county politics and smoking bad tobacco with some other -loungers at ‘Martin’s’!” - -“I know I am not what you like,” said Somers despondently; “but there -is one thing that would make me different. If you would give me some -hope for the future----” - -“I begged you never to say that again,” interrupted Margaret, quickly. -“You know how indignant it makes me, and the worst of it is that you -really believe it to be true. If you won’t do right for right’s sake, -you would never do it for mine.” - -He made no answer to her words. But one form of response suggested -itself, and to that he knew she was in no mood to listen; so, for the -space of a few moments, they walked along in silence. But Margaret’s -thoughts were very active, and presently she broke out: - -“Why, Charley, when I heard you complaining the other day, that the -tailor who has a shop opposite you kept you from sleeping in the -morning by his violin practice begun at daylight, I remembered how -you had told me once that you frequently saw him at his work until -after midnight; and do you know what I thought? I thought: I wish to -goodness Charley would try to be a little more like him.” - -“What do you mean?” the young man cried, angrily. “You don’t know what -you are talking about. Do you think I could ever so far forget myself -as to imitate a beastly little Yankee tailor, or to desire to be like -him in any way whatever? I can stand a good deal from you, Margaret, -but this is a little too much!” - -“Of course! His happening to be a Yankee puts him down at once. But -I can tell you what it is, Charley, there is one lesson you might -profitably learn from him, and that the most important in the world -for you. It is, to make something of the powers you have. That poor -little man has no possibilities, I suppose, beyond the attainment of -a certain degree of skill in making clothing, on the one hand, and -learning to play popular airs indifferently on a cracked little fiddle, -on the other. But with you, how different it is! Papa says you would -be an able lawyer, but for the trifling obstacle that you don’t know -any law. We all know how well you talk, on those rare occasions on -which you become really interested. And as to the other point, the -music--oh, Charley, what mightn’t your voice become, if you would avail -yourself of the means of cultivation within your reach? But no! Your -teacher told you that you must practise patiently and continuously to -procure its proper development, and this you would not do; it was too -troublesome!” - -“Trouble apart,” said Somers, “the notion does not please me, and I -must say I wonder that you, who make such a point of manliness in a -man, should favor any one’s regularly preparing himself to be the sort -of drawing-room pet that one of your trained song-singers is certain to -become.” - -“You _can_ say the most aggravating things!” said Margaret. “Is it -possible that you can consider it unmanly to cultivate such a gift as -that? But what’s the use of all this? You don’t care.” - -“No, I don’t care much,” he answered slowly. “When a man has one -supreme, paramount care forever possessing him, and is constantly being -told that the object of his desires is beyond his reach, other things -don’t matter very much.” - -At the sight of the weary discontent on his handsome face, her heart -softened, and as they stopped before the little cabin, which was their -destination, she said kindly: - -“Come in and see Uncle Mose with me, won’t you?” - -But the young man excused himself rather hurriedly, and delivering the -basket into her hands he said good-morning, and walked rapidly back -toward the town. - -Margaret pushed open the door of the wretched little cabin, and -just within sat Uncle Mose, engaged in his customary avocation of -shoemaking, or to speak more accurately, shoe-mending. He was a spare -and sinewy old negro, whose age, according to his own account, was -“somewhar high up in de nineties.” He was much bowed in figure, and -lame in one leg. Bushy tufts of dull gray hair rose on each side -of his brown and polished crown, and his wrinkled and sunken cheeks -were quite beardless. His expression was one of placid benevolence -and contentment--a strange contrast to his surroundings. The room -he occupied was hideously squalid and confused. The roof sloped in -one direction and the floor in another, and the stove, which was -unreasonably large, in a third. Old phials, suspended by their necks -and partly filled with muddy liquids, decorated the walls, together -with a pair of patched boots, a string of red peppers, several ears of -pop-corn, and a leather-covered whipstock. In one corner hung a huge -walking cane. Everything was thickly coated with dust. - -The old man was seated near the perilously one-sided stove, in which a -fire smoked and smouldered, though it was a balmy day, and in front of -which a rusty old iron spade did duty for a door. His few old tools and -pegs and twines were on a broken chair beside him. When he looked up, -over the top of his brass-rimmed spectacles, and saw who his visitor -was, he broke into a broad smile of welcome, as he raised his withered -old hand to his head in token of salutation. - -“Dat you, missis?” he said. “What bin fetch you out dis time o’ day? I -is glad to see you, sho’. Come in, en take a seat.” - -He swept his tools and twines from the wooden seat to the floor, and -rubbed the dusty surface several times with his hard palm. Margaret -at once sat down, laying her long white draperies across her lap, to -protect them from the dusty floor, showing a pair of neat little boots -as she did so. Then she took off the cover of the basket, and revealed -its contents to the old man’s delighted gaze. - -“Well, missis, to be sho’!” he exclaimed, his features relaxing in a -grin of anticipative enjoyment, “Light bread, en chicken, en grapes! -en what’s dis, missis? Gemarna![A] Whoo! How come you bin know so good -what I done bin hankerin’ arter? I gwine tase a little, right now.” - -And using his shoemaking weapon as knife, fork and spoon indifferently, -he fell to in earnest. He had probably been honest in his intention -of only tasting a little, feeling it perhaps a lack of decorum to -eat in the presence of his guest; but once embarked on the alluring -enterprise, he was in no humor to relax, and, uttering from time to -time expressive ejaculations of enjoyment, he went on and on, until -only the fruit remained. As he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, -he drew a long sigh of contented repletion. - -“Dat wor good, sure ’nuff, missis,” he said. “White folks’ vittles tase -mighty chice to me now, I tell you.” - -“I’m glad you liked it, Uncle Mose,” said Margaret. “But tell me--I -always meant to ask you--where that immense stick came from. Did any -one ever use it?” - -“What, dat air ole stick, missis? Why, bress you, honey, dat air ole -stick wor ole mars’r’s, whar he bin use ter take when he druv out in -de kyarrge, arter he bin git so big en fat. Yes, missis; he bin put he -han’s on de top en res’ he chin on ’em, en when I bin had ter git out’n -de ole place, de bin gin it ter me fur a sort o’ memorandum.” - -“You were mighty fond of your old master, weren’t you, Uncle Mose?” -asked Margaret. - -“Ah, dat’s a fac’, missis--dat’s a fac’. Ole mars’r war mighty good -to us. De wor three hund’rd on us, en he wor de mars’r, en we had ter -know it. He done bin gin he niggers mighty good chance, ole mars’r is. -Ebery man bin had he pig en he chickens, en ole mars’r he buy de young -chickens en de eggs, en pay us de market price fur ’em. Yes, missis.” - -“And what would you do with the money, Uncle Mose?” Margaret asked. - -“Dress my wife, missis. Lor’ yes, dress my wife, en Queen. Queen war my -oldes’ daughter; en if you b’lieve me, missis, I dress dem two niggers -same as de done bin white. I bin lucky nigger all my life, missis. -Ole mars’r wor good enough, en when he bin die en young Rawjer take de -place, t’war mos’ same as hebben. I dunno _how_ come young Rawjer wor -so mile, for all he par wor so blusterin’. You see ole mars’r he mighty -quick en hot-heddy. He let out at you sometimes, en hawler ’twel you -think he gwine tar you to pieces; but done you be skeered, missis; he -ain’ gwine hit you a lick. When de new overseers’d come, ole mars’r he -’low de mus’ keep us down en work us hard, but Lor’ missis, he ain’ -mean it. He gwine watch mighty close nobody don’ ’buse his niggers, en -he giv’ ’em plenty good food to eat, and see it done bin cook right, -too. De did’n have no plates en knives to eat with. No missis; but -what dem niggers want long o’ plates en knives? De ain’ got no right -to complain cause de ain’ eat offn chany. De needn’t think ole mars’r -gwine let em come sit down at his table long o’ him, ’kus he worn’ -gwine do it, en he _did’n_ do it. No, missis.” - -The old man’s tone was one of vehement indorsement of his master’s -policy, that there could be no mistaking. - -“Did you marry one of your own master’s slaves, Uncle Mose?” asked -Margaret, presently. - -“No, missis,” Uncle Mose responded blandly; “I marry a gal whar ’long -to one Mr. _Fitz_hugh. De war heap o’ likely gals whar ’long to ole -mars’r, some bright yaller, and some black ez coals, en some mos’ -white, but seem like I could’n make up my mine to marry air one on ’em, -I dunno _what_ make I could’n take to ’em, but ’t’war no use! I bin -sot my eyes on a tall black gal, over to Mars’r George _Fitz_hugh’s, -en ebery other Sad’dy ole mars’r lemme knock off early en go see her. -She done bin younger’n me, some odd yeers, en I tell her I wor’n’ gwine -cheat ’er. I tell her she mought look roun’ a while, ’fo’ we bin settle -de thing. So, eff you b’lieve me, missis, I bin wait on her three -yeers, ’fo’ she compose her mine to marry me.” - -“Well, and what became of her?” said Margaret, as he paused -ruminatively. - -“Alter ’bout fo’ yeers, missis, she wor sole away, Liza wor,” he said -in tones as benign and free from resentment as ever. “Lor’ me, missis, -how well I mine dat day! I bin’ come up from de fiel’ like t’wor down -datterway” (suiting the action to the word), “de paff run long by de -cabin do’ pretty much. It wor like it done bin dis pass Chewsdy dat I -come up to de do’, en Aun’ Tetsy, she tell me she heer ’Liza done bin -sole. I stop short like, en I say ‘_what?_’ en she tell me agin, en say -she bin heer’d de done fotch her down to town ter take her off in de -drove. I struck out for de great-’us at dat, en I tell ole mars’r all -’bout it. ‘Knock off work, Mose,’ ole mars’r say, ‘en go to town en -see eff she’s thar. ’T’ain’ no use try ter keep her, but mebbe you can -see her en de chillun one’t mo’. You kin take White-foot.’ I prick up -my yeers at dat, for White-foot war de fleetes’ horse ole mars’r got. -Lor’, missis, I wish yer could ’a see dat filly. De ain’ no sich hosses -now. Her legs war clean en straight ez a poplar, en her coat----” - -“But, Uncle Mose, go on about ’Liza.” - -“’T’war no use, missis,” he said, with a patient head-shake. “When I -got to town I bin hurry to de jail to see eff de bin lodge de gang in -dar, but de tell me ’Liza bin gone off wid de rest on ’em dat very -mornin’.” - -He ceased speaking, and sat staring in front of him in a preoccupied -and ruminative way, from which Margaret saw it would be necessary to -recall him. - -“Well--what else, Uncle Mose?” she said gently; “what finally became of -your wife?” - -“Which wife, missis?” he replied, rousing himself by an effort, and -looking about him blankly; “I had three on ’em.” - -Margaret refrained from asking whether it had been a case of “trigamy,” -or whether they had been successive, and said: - -“You were telling me about ’Liza’s being sold away. Did you never see -her again?” - -“No, missis,” the old man answered gently. “I never see ’Liza no mo’. -I see a man whar met her on de road, en he say she bin had de baby in -her arms, walkin’ ’long wid de gang, en de t’other chile wor in de cart -wid de balance o’ de chillun, en he say ’Liza busted out a-cryin’, en -’low he mus’ tell her ole man, eff we did’n meet no mo’ here b’low, she -hope to meet in Hebben. En he ax her den whar she gwine ter, en she say -she dunno, she think she bin heerd em say t’wor Alabammer; en dat’s de -las’ word I ever heer o’ ’Liza. Yes, missis.” - -Another meditative pause followed, and Margaret’s sympathetic eyes -could see that he was far back in the past. - -“I bin had a daughter sole away, too, missis,” he went on presently. -“Yes, missis. She ’long to one Mr. Lane. He bin a hard mars’r, en he -treated on her mighty bad, ’twel arter while she run off en went en put -herself in jail. Yes, missis.” - -“How could she put herself in jail?” - -“Dat how de do, missis. You see, when she bin run away, eff she done -git caught, de have to put her in jail. So she jes’ go en give herself -up, en say she won’ go back ter Mr. Lane,--she be sole fust! So arter -Mr. Lane fine out she one o’dat sort, he sole her. It so happen dat my -brother Sawney wor gwine ’long de road, en she wor passin’ in de cart, -en she hawler out: ‘Howdy, Unc’ Sawney!’ en Sawney say: ‘Hi! who dat -know me, en I don’ know dem?’ En she say: ‘Lor’ Unc’ Sawney, don’t you -know Unc’ Mose’s Queen?’ En Sawney say: ‘Hi, Queen! Dat ain’ you! Whar -you gwine to?’ En she say: ‘I dunno, I ruther fer ter go ennywhere den -to stay whar I done bin.’ En I ain’ never heerd o’ Queen since.” - -At this point the old man was seized with a fit of coughing, which he -made great efforts to repress, and fluently apologized for. - -“You must excuse me, young missis,” he said. “I bin cotch a bad cole, -en it cough me all day en cough me all night, clar ’twel mornin’. I’se -gettin’ mighty ole en shacklin’. Yes, missis. - -“De all been mighty good to me, missis,” went on Uncle Mose, after a -short pause, “from ole mars’r down. I hope to meet ’em all in Hebben. -Ole mars’r ain’ bin much fer religion in he life; but he die a mighty -peaceful, happy death, en he forgive all he enemies. He bin kind en -merciful, en I ’low de Lord’ll take him in. He always give his niggers -heap o’ religious encouragement, en when we bin go to de lick to be -_bab_tize, he bin gin us de fines’ kind o’ notes to de preacher, en -eff you bin tell a lie or steal a chicken he ain’ gwine say de fuss -word ’bout it. Ef he come roun’ to de cabin while we bin had meetin’, -he ain’ gwine make no ’sturbance. He wait roun’ ’twel we done sing de -Doxoligum, en den he say what he come fer.” - -“Your religion has been a great comfort to you, Uncle Mose--hasn’t it?” -said Margaret, making an effort to keep back an irrepressible smile. - -“Ah, dat’s a fac’, missis--dat’s a fac’, it has. Sometime it animate -me very strong, en make me tower high ’bove de world; but den agin, -sometime de very las’ bit on it takes to flight, en ef you b’lieve me, -missis, I ain’ got no more religion den de palm o’ your han’!” - -“The greatest saints have complained of that, Uncle Mose,” said -Margaret; “it is one of the devil’s strongest temptations.” - -“What, ole Sat’n, missis? Talk to me ’bout ole Sat’n! Don’t I know him? -You just give him de chance en he gwine fight you, mean enough!” - -Margaret, much amused, was about to make a move to go, when Uncle Mose -arrested her intention by saying: - -“En so Mars’ Rawjer got a little gal gwine git married. Well, well, -well! Is I ever bin tell you, missis, ’bout de time I whip young -Rawjer? Ha! ha! ha! I tell you, missis, I whale him good. He make -me mad one day, ’bout ketchin de white folks’ hosses, en I break me -a little sprout, whar sprung up ’side a ole stump, in de very fiel’ -I help to clar forty yeers ago, en I warm he jacket fer him, good -fashion. I mighty feared he gwine tell he par, but arter I git up by de -stable, I does take my han’ en slap it ’gin de stone fence, en one de -little white boys say, ‘I tell you, Uncle Mose kin hit hard’; en I say -‘Ah, dat I kin, chile; dat’s a fac;’ en eff you b’lieve me, I skeered -dat chile so bad, he ain’ never tell he par yit;” and Uncle Mose went -off into a long chuckle of delight. “When he bin git married en bring -he wife home, we all went up to de house to see ’em, en drink de -healths, en he tell de young missis this war Mose whar bin gin him that -air whippin’ he bin tole her ’bout. She war mighty pretty little thing, -wid yaller hair en great big sof’ blue eyes, en a little han’ ez sof’ -en white ez snow. I was mos’ feared to ketch hold on it, wid my ole -black paw, but she would shake han’s wid me, en she ’lowed maybe t’wor -dat whippin’ what make her husman sich a good man, en Mars’ Rawjer he -look at her fit to eat her up. She bin use ter gin out to de han’s, -arter she come, but Aun’ Kitty she tote de smoke-’us key.” - -As Margaret rose to take leave, the old man rose also. - -“I mighty proud’n dat dinner you bin fotch me, missis,” he said. “Give -my ’spects to yo’ par en mar, en call agin, missis.” And he lifted his -cap and bowed her out with punctilious politeness. - -As Margaret took her way homeward from the old negro’s cabin, she was -conscious of a more than usual softness in her heart for Uncle Mose -and his reminiscences, and all the customs and traditions of which he -was the exponent. Even Charley Somers seemed less reprehensible than -he had been an hour ago, for the old man’s talk had brought before her -mind a system of things of which the inertia and irresponsibleness -that jarred upon her so, in the people around her, seemed the logical -outgrowth. She had often been told that her father, when a small boy, -had been every day drawn to and from his school in a diminutive coach -pulled by ten little negroes; and a number of similar anecdotes which -she could recall gave her an insight into the absolute difference -between that _régime_ and the present, that made her somewhat ashamed -of her intolerance, and mollified considerably her feeling toward -young Somers, whom she determined to serve more kindly at their next -interview. She was prompted further to this resolve by the fact that -she had something to break to the young man, which she feared would go -rather hard with him. - -An opportunity which she had often longed for, to see the great world -beyond her own section of country, and observe the manners and habits -of men and women whose circumstances and traditions were directly -opposed to her own, had been offered recently by a letter, received -from a cousin who had married an army officer and was living in -Washington, which conveyed an invitation for her to make her a visit. -Her father and mother highly approved the plan and it seemed settled -that she was to go, and while she longed for the new experience, she -found her thoughts dwelling rather tenderly on the dear old home and -friends, of whom, it seemed to her now, she had been ungratefully -impatient. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -A few weeks later, Miss Trevennon found herself domesticated in her -cousin’s house in Washington, with surroundings so unfamiliar and -circumstances so new to her that she found something to excite her -interest and surprise almost every hour in the day. The perfect -appointments of the house, which was gotten up with all the appliances -of modern art, delighted and diverted her at every turn. “The -mud-scraper,” she wrote her mother, in her first letter home, “is a -thing of beauty, and the coal-scuttle a joy forever.” - -There were no children in the family, which consisted only of General -and Mrs. Gaston and a bachelor brother of the former, who made his home -with them, although a large portion of his time was spent in New York. -Margaret had already been an inmate of the house for ten days, and as -yet had not seen him. Mrs. Gaston, however, informed her that he might -appear at any moment, his trips to and from New York being too frequent -to entail the formality of announcing himself. - -Mrs. Gaston was a very clever and agreeable woman and pretended, with -some reason, to know the world. Her marriage had been considered -quite a brilliant one, as General Gaston’s position, both social and -official, was extremely good, and he had quite a large private fortune -in addition to his pay. He was not so clever as his wife, but more -thoughtful and perhaps more sincere. It was a successful marriage, and -the Gaston establishment was tasteful and well ordered. Mrs. Gaston, -whose health was indifferent, kept her room a good deal when she could -escape the exactions of society, which she never allowed herself to -shirk; and her husband was so much absorbed in his official and social -duties that Margaret was often alone. - -“I am afraid you are frequently dull, my dear,” Mrs. Gaston said to her -cousin one morning, as the latter sat beside her couch in the little -dressing-room where the invalid was taking her breakfast. “It will be -brighter for you when the season fairly opens; but I purposely begged -you to come now, so that we might have time to make acquaintance while -we are quiet. I wish Louis would come home, but there’s never any -counting on him, he’s so frightfully busy all the time. I never saw a -man work so hard in my life.” - -Margaret looked a little puzzled: “I thought you told me----” she began, - -“That he is well off? So he is. He has quite a nice little fortune -and there’s no earthly reason why he should work so hard, except that -he likes it; and from that point of view I don’t blame him. ‘Pleasure -the way you like it,’ is an axiom for which I have a profound respect, -and Louis undoubtedly finds his chief pleasure in application to his -profession.” - -“What is his profession?” Margaret asked; for, although it was evident -that Mrs. Gaston was very fond of her brother-in-law, she had, for -some reason, said very little about him to her cousin. - -“He’s an architect--I thought you knew--Ames & Gaston. Have you never -heard of them?” - -“No,” said Margaret, shaking her head and smiling, “but that does not -go for much. I am finding out that I have never heard of most things.” - -“It’s really quite delightful that you never heard of Ames & Gaston,” -said Cousin Eugenia, laughing. “I shall inform Louis promptly, though -he won’t believe it, or if he does he’ll set it down to the obtuseness -of Southern people--a foregone conclusion in his mind! I must tell you -that I anticipate some pleasure in seeing you enlighten him on that -score.” - -“I am afraid I shall not be able to do much,” said Margaret. “I do feel -myself extremely ignorant by the side of General Gaston and yourself, -especially when you talk of modern literature and art and music.” - -“You need not, I assure you. We are neither of us more than ‘cleverly -smattered’ on these subjects. Edward knows more than I do, though every -one, himself included, believes the contrary. It’s quite another thing -with Louis, however; he’s a swell at that sort of thing, and is really -thorough, and yet, do you know, I sometimes manage to impose on him -immensely and make him think I’ve penetrated to the very root and fibre -of a matter, when in reality I have only the most superficial knowledge -of it? But all this is a digression. There was something I wanted to -say to you. It was about Edward’s people. You know about the Gastons, I -suppose?” - -Margaret looked slightly puzzled. “What do you mean?” she said. - -“Oh! I mean about their name and history and family traditions. -It’s an old Puritan family and one of the most illustrious in New -England. I read somewhere the other day, that it was one of the few -really historical families in America, and I have no desire to speak -disrespectfully of them, only I do think they make an unnecessary -amount of fuss with themselves. Oh! I _must_ tell you about my first -interview with Mr. Alexander M. Gaston. You know who he is!” - -“Really, I do not,” said Margaret, lifting her eyebrows with a -deprecating smile. - -“Well, you _are_ green! but, however, it’s unnecessary to enlighten you -now, except to say that he is Edward’s uncle, and the head of the great -house of Gaston. He’s been governor and senator and foreign minister -and all sorts of things, and is now one of the most eminent men in -New England, and a very excellent and accomplished gentleman. Well, -soon after I became engaged to Edward he came to call upon me, and I -must say his whole manner and attitude toward me were rather amazing. -He was good enough to say that he welcomed me into the family, but he -took pains to intimate that I was about to be the recipient of a great -honor. The Gastons, he explained, had been for centuries leaders of -public thought and opinion in their own State, and he was obliging -enough to supply me with the dates of the landing in New England of -the founders of the house, and to dwell upon their prominence among -the early Puritans. I listened respectfully to this tirade, and by -the time it came to a conclusion I had my little speech ready, and -when he took my hand and formally welcomed me into the great house -of Gaston, I replied by saying that I knew it ought to be a source -of much satisfaction to Edward and myself that we were, in our small -way, doing something toward healing an old breach. ‘My ancestors were -Cavaliers,’ I said, ‘and for a Cavalier to marry a Puritan, is, even at -this late day, helping at least a little to wipe out the memory of a -long-standing feud.’ Now, I flatter myself that was rather neat.” - -“Oh, Cousin Eugenia, how perfectly delicious!” exclaimed Margaret, with -an outburst of gay laughter. “And what did he say?” - -“I don’t exactly remember, my dear, but it was something clever and -adroit. I know he retired very gracefully, and bore me no malice. He -has been very kind to me always, and I am said to be his favorite of -all his nephews’ wives. He is really a dear old boy, and quite worthy -of all the adulation he receives, if only they wouldn’t put it on the -ground of ancestry. Why, the founder of the family was engaged in some -sort of haberdashery business in London! It’s odd, the inconsistencies -one meets with! But I’m inured to it all now, and have learned to pose -as a Gaston, like the rest of them! But what I wanted particularly to -tell you, and what it concerns you to know is, that the Gastons--Edward -and Louis as well as the others--are greatly prejudiced against -Southerners. That was one reason why I asked you here.” - -“It may make matters very difficult for me,” said Margaret, smiling. - -“Not in the least, my dear. You have only to be yourself, assuming -nothing. I feel a delightful security in letting matters take their -course. You will know perfectly what to do, and I think nothing could -be more inspiring than forcing people to abandon foolish prejudices. I -should not be sorry to have your chance myself.” - -“Surely, the same opportunity must once have been yours.” - -“Oh no, they won’t accord me that for a moment. They say, with -truth, that merely to have been born in the South does not make me a -Southerner, and that, having spent as much time in the North--and, for -that matter, the East and West--as in the South, I must be set down as -a cosmopolitan.” - -“I am almost surprised to hear you say they are prejudiced,” said -Margaret; “I should suppose they were too intelligent for that.” - -“Just what I’ve always said. For my part, I haven’t an atom of -prejudice in my composition. It is unworthy of enlightened human -beings, and so I tell Edward and Louis.” - -“And what do they say?” - -“Oh, that they are not prejudiced, of course. Denial is the only answer -such people can give. But, for all that, they are. I think Northern -people, as a rule, are more prejudiced than Southerners.” - -“They must go great lengths, if they are,” said Margaret; “but I am not -speaking of the more enlightened ones, and I have always supposed that -the existence of such feelings in Bassett was due to the fact that it -is such a small place, and so shut off from contact with the world. -And then, too, I think much of it is to be attributed to the fact that -those poor people suffered so terribly by the war.” - -“Exactly. I often tell Edward and Louis that they are so much less -justifiable, because they were the victors. I’m sure _I_ feel it a very -easy thing to be magnanimous toward a person I’ve got the better of. -But I’ve long since ceased to apply arguments to a prejudice. Finding -they did not answer, I thought a practical illustration might.” - -A moment’s silence ensued, which Margaret presently broke by saying: - -“Is Mr. Louis Gaston younger or older than your husband?” - -“Younger, of course,--years younger. He’s not quite thirty.” - -“Is he a bachelor or a widower?” - -“A bachelor, of course. Fancy Louis being a widower! He stands on the -high vantage-ground of lofty impregnability. He is not in love, and -he would fain have it believed he never has been, or at least only -in a careless and off-hand manner. Not that he avoids women. On the -contrary, he goes into society, and enjoys it very much when he has -time, which is not very often.” - -“Do you mean that he works out of office hours?” - -“He has no particular office hours, and he works at all times, early -and late. His partner lives in New York and he is there a great deal, -and there most of the work is done; but he is always drawing plans and -making estimates here at home, and has a branch office down the street. -Sometimes he works in his room, and sometimes I persuade him to bring -his designs down into the library, when there seems a likelihood of -our having a quiet evening. I pretend I’m interested in them, to please -him,--he does a great deal to please me; but I’m not so, really.” - -“They must be interesting to him, at any rate, to absorb him so -completely.” - -“I should think so! Why, I’ve known Louis, when there was a stress of -work, to sit up the entire night, and then take a cold bath and come -down to breakfast perfectly fresh, and be ready afterward to go off -down town and be at it again until night. It’s enough to make one yawn -to think of it.” - -Mrs. Gaston, suiting the action to the word, was settling herself more -comfortably among the pillows, and so failed to observe the look of -eager interest her words had called up in her companion’s face. She had -just arranged her position to her satisfaction, and turned to continue -the conversation, when a quick step was heard ascending the staircase. - -“That’s Louis’ step,” she said suddenly. “Close the door, please; he -will probably stop to speak to me.” - -Margaret obeyed in silence, and the next moment the footsteps stopped -at the door, and a very pleasantly modulated voice said: - -“Any admittance to a repentant renegade, who comes to make his peace?” - -“No,” said Mrs. Gaston, quietly; “I’m not well--worse than usual, -indeed--used up with recent exertions and in no mood to show clemency -to offenders.” - -“And pray, in what have the recent exertions consisted?” the voice -replied. - -“Oh, the usual round of wearing domestic affairs, with a new item -added.” - -“Ahem!” exclaimed the voice; “it would seem the young Southerner has -arrived. Is it so?” - -“Yes,” said Mrs. Gaston, dryly, “she has.” - -“If I were not too generous, I should say, ‘I told you so,’” went on -the voice. “I have observed that Southern importations into Northern -climates are usually attended with certain disadvantages.” - -“Oh, she’s a very nice little thing,” said Mrs. Gaston, carelessly, “I -think something can be made of her.” - -“And you are to have the pleasure of conducting the process of -development, and Edward and I that of looking on at it--is that it? -Where is she, by-the-way? Is there any danger of one’s meeting her -on the stairs, and having to account for one’s self? A civilized -man, encountered unexpectedly, might unsteady the nerves of the -Importation--might he not?” - -“Possibly,” said Mrs. Gaston; “but there’s no danger. I’ve given her -a room far away from yours; so you will still have the privilege of -keeping unearthly hours without disturbing any one.” - -“Thank you; that’s very considerate; but I must be off. I want to get -some papers from my room, and then I must go to keep an appointment.” - -“Of course! I shouldn’t know you if you hadn’t an appointment. It -wouldn’t be you. Go on; but be prompt at dinner.” - -“You may count upon me. And, by-the-way, you’ll let me know whenever -you’d like me to do anything for your young friend’s entertainment. -I shall not be likely to know the tastes and predilections of the -Importation, but if you think of anything I can do, I am at your -service.” - -“Thank you; but I let her look after herself pretty much. I fancy there -will be no occasion to call on you.” - -She threw an amount of careless weariness into her voice as she said -this, that contrasted strongly with the smile of unmixed amusement -with which she turned her eyes on Margaret a moment afterward, as the -footsteps outside were heard ascending the staircase. - -“Well,” she said quietly, “that’s Louis. What do you think of him?” - -“How can I possibly say?” said Margaret, divided between amusement and -indignation. - -“Surely you must have some impression of him,” Mrs. Gaston urged. - -“He has a very pleasant voice.” - -“You couldn’t fail to notice that. I was sure you would. New Englanders -are somewhat maligned in the matter of voices, I think. That dreadful -nasal twang, where it exists at all among the more cultivated, usually -belongs to the women; though I must say Edward has some relations, -male and female, who set my teeth on edge whenever they come near me. -But a really beautiful voice, such as Louis’, is a rarity anywhere, -and he pronounces his words so exquisitely! Only to hear him say -‘Matthew Arnold’ rests every bone in one’s body. I dare say you would -have expected to hear the endless succession of double o’s, always -attributed to _Noo_ Englanders!” - -“Oh, no!” said Margaret. “I always supposed cultivated New Englanders -quite superior to that.” - -“They suppose themselves to be so, also,” said Cousin Eugenia; “but -they are not in all cases, by any means. Edward himself had a decided -tendency in that direction when I married him. I have often told him -that what first suggested to me to accept him was a curiosity to see -whether he would address me as ‘Oogenia,’ when he grew sentimental; and -I protest he did!” - -Margaret could not help laughing at this, but she soon became grave -again, and said seriously: - -“I am afraid I must be rather a _bête noir_ to Mr. Gaston.” - -“It would seem so,” said Cousin Eugenia. - -“I hope you will never call upon him to escort me anywhere, or do -anything whatever for my entertainment,” Margaret continued. “I wish -you would promise me not to.” - -“With all my heart. I promise it as solemnly and bindingly as you like.” - -At this point the footsteps were heard returning down the stairs, and -again they paused outside. - -“Can you come and take this?” the pleasant voice called softly. - -“Open the door and hand it through a little crack,” Mrs. Gaston -answered. - -The knob was turned from without, and the door pushed open just wide -enough to admit the entrance of a neatly done-up parcel, held in a -large, finely formed hand. - -Mrs. Gaston motioned to Margaret, who sat just behind the door, to take -the parcel, and, not daring to protest, the girl moved forward and -received it. - -“Shake hands, in token of pardon for my slurs at the Importation,” the -voice said, in a tone of quiet amusement, and Margaret, obeying another -peremptory nod and glance from Mrs. Gaston, transferred the parcel to -her left hand, and put her right one for a moment into that of Louis -Gaston. - -“I perceive that the toilet is indeed in its initial stages,” he said, -“not a ring in place as yet! I hardly seem to know your hand in its -present unfettered condition. I even think it seems slighter and -colder than usual. The Importation must have taken a good deal out of -you already.” - -Not choosing to have her hand imprisoned longer in that firm and -friendly clasp, Margaret forcibly withdrew it and stepped back, while -Mrs. Gaston said, naturally: - -“Cease your invidious remarks and go to your appointment, Louis. Thank -you for the candy.” - -The door was immediately closed from without, and again the footsteps -retreated. - -“I am glad you’ve shaken hands with Louis,” Mrs. Gaston said; “it’s an -initiation to a friendship between you, and, in the end, you and Louis -must be friends, though there will be certain inevitable obstructions -at first. He is really the best and dearest creature that ever lived. -He had a dreadful illness once from studying too hard for his college -examinations, and Edward and I nursed him through it, and you don’t -know how we did yearn over that boy! He’s been devoted to me ever -since, one proof of which is, that he always brings me this candy from -New York. Have some. I’m sure he ought to be good to me,” she said, -critically peering into the box from which Margaret had just helped -herself, and selecting a plump chocolate drop; “I certainly spoil him -sufficiently. Still, there isn’t very much one can do for a man like -that. He has such frugal habits, it’s quite baffling. But tell me what -you think of him, after a second encounter.” - -“Why, nothing more than I thought before, except that he has a -beautiful hand.” - -“Margaret, you are never disappointing,” said Cousin Eugenia, warmly. -“I felt sure you would observe that. Go now and write the letters that -you spoke of while I dress, and then we’ll go for a drive before lunch. -And, by-the-way, while I think of it, put on your long black dress this -evening, and wear the black lace at the throat and hands, as you had it -the evening that the Kents were here. Don’t wear any color, not even a -bit of gold. You know you gave me leave to make suggestions when you -came, and it’s the first time I’ve used my privilege, though I think I -am usually rather fond of suggesting. Ring for Lucy, please, and then -hurry through your letters, that we may have a nice long drive.” - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -A few minutes before six o’clock that evening, Margaret, clad in a long -black gown that swathed her up to her milk-white throat, came slowly -down the broad staircase of General Gaston’s house and entered the -empty drawing-room. - -Finding herself alone, she moved across the warm, bright room to the -table which stood under the chandelier, and taking up the evening -paper, which had just been brought in, she began rather listlessly -to run her eyes along its columns. Presently some particular item -caught her attention, and so absorbed her that she was unconscious of -approaching footsteps, until she caught sight of a gentleman who was -just entering the room from the hall. - -Lowering the paper, she waited for him to come forward, which he did -with a certain perplexity of expression and a slight confusion of -manner. Seeing these indications, the girl looked into his face with -frank self-possession, and said gently: - -“Miss Trevennon.” - -As there was no immediate response, she presently added: - -“You are Mr. Gaston?” - -The sound of his own name recalled him, and he came up and greeted -her with a perfect ease that instantly put to flight the moment’s -confusion; not however, before a watchful eye, applied to a crack -between the folding-doors of the library, had noted the fact of its -existence. These doors were now suddenly thrown apart, and Mrs. Gaston, -dressed in a gay and ornate costume, entered the room. - -“I beg pardon of you both for not having been on hand to introduce -you,” she said, with careless composure, as she took her -brother-in-law’s hand and turned her cheek to receive his light kiss. -“You have managed to dispense with my offices, I’m glad to see! How -are you, Louis?--though it is the merest form to ask. He is one of -the hopelessly healthy people, Margaret, who are the most exasperating -class on earth to me. Anything in the _Star_, dear? Let me see.” - -She took the paper from Miss Trevennon’s hand, and began carelessly -looking it over. Suddenly her eye lighted. - -“Here’s something that may interest you, Louis,” she said, handing -him the paper, as she pointed with her heavily jewelled finger to a -paragraph headed: - -“Southern Imports.” - -At the same instant General Gaston entered the room, and just afterward -a servant announced dinner. - -Mrs. Gaston had mentioned that it was characteristic of her to be a -magnanimous victor, and it may have been that fact which prompted her -great urbanity to her brother-in-law on the present occasion. She ran -her hand through his arm affectionately, as she walked toward the -dining-room beside him, and thanked him with great effusiveness for the -delicious candy. To all which he answered by the not very relevant -response, uttered half under his breath: - -“Never mind, madam! I’ll settle with you for this.” - -Margaret, of course, was _vis-à-vis_ to Louis Gaston at the table, -and while both joined in the general conversation which ensued, -she perceived, by her quick glances, that he was a man of not more -than medium height, with a straight and well-carried figure and a -dark-skinned, intelligent face. He had dark eyes, which were at once -keen and thoughtful, and very white teeth under his brown mustache. -Although in undoubted possession of these good points, she did not set -him down as a handsome man, though his natural advantages were enhanced -by the fact that he was dressed with the most scrupulous neatness in -every detail, the very cut of his short dark hair, parted straight in -the middle, and brushed smoothly down on top of his noticeably fine -head, and the well-kept appearance of his rather long finger-nails, -giving evidence of the fact that his toilet was performed with -punctilious care. - -It was something very new, and at the same time very pleasant to -Margaret, to observe these little points in a person whose first and -strongest impression upon her had been that of genuine manliness. In -Bassett, the young men allowed their hair to grow rather long and -uneven; and when, for some great occasion, they would pay a visit to -the barber, the shorn and cropped appearance they presented afterward -was so transforming as to make it necessary for their friends to -look twice to be sure of their identity. As to their nails, in many -instances these were kept in check by means of certain implements -provided by nature for purposes of ruthless demolition, and when this -was not the case they were left to work their own destruction, or else -hurriedly disposed of in the intervals of vehement stick-whittling. Not -a man of them but would have set it down as effeminate to manifest the -scrupulous care in dress which was observable in Louis Gaston, and it -was upon this very point that Margaret was reflecting when Gaston’s -voice recalled her. - -“I’m uncommonly glad to get home, Eugenia,” he said, tasting his wine, -as the servant was removing his soup-plate. “I think Ames is beginning -to find out that this Washington office is a mere subterfuge of mine, -and that the real obstacle to my settling down in New York is my -fondness for the domestic circle. I really wish Edward could manage to -get sent to Governor’s Island. I must confess I should prefer New York -as a residence, if I could be accompanied by my household gods and my -tribe. Shouldn’t you, Miss Trevennon?” - -Margaret had been sitting quite silent for some time, and Gaston, -observing this, purposely drew her into the conversation, a thing -his sister-in-law would never have done, for the reason that she had -observed that her young cousin possessed the not very common charm of -listening and looking on with a perfect grace. - -“I have never been to New York,” said Margaret, in answer to this -direct appeal, “and I have only a limited idea of its advantages as a -place of residence, though I don’t doubt they are very great.” - -“They are, indeed,” said Louis, observing her with a furtive scrutiny -across the graceful mass of bloom and leafage in the _épergne_. “You -will like it immensely.” - -“If I ever make its acquaintance,” said Margaret, smiling. “Washington -seemed to me the border-land of the Antipodes before I came here, and I -have never thought of going beyond it.” - -“You have lived, then, altogether in the South?” said Gaston, with a -tinge of incredulity in his voice, so faint as to escape Margaret, but -perfectly evident to Mrs. Gaston, for the reason, perhaps, that she was -listening for it. - -“Yes, altogether,” Margaret answered. - -“My poor little cousin is in a most benighted condition,” Mrs. -Gaston said. “She has not only never been to New York, but--only -think!--until to-day she never heard of Ames & Gaston!” - -“Impossible! Unbelievable!” said Louis. “Was it for this that they -designed ‘All Saints,’ and have even been mentioned in connection with -the new skating-rink? Eugenia, you are a true friend. It will not be -necessary for me to carry a slave about with me to remind me that I am -a man, like the great monarch we read of in history; a sister-in-law is -a capital substitute and performs her office quite as faithfully.” - -“Perhaps it is well for me,” said Margaret, smiling demurely, “that I -began my list of ignorances with such an imposing one; it will make -those that follow seem trivial by comparison.” - -“There is wisdom in what you say, Miss Trevennon,” said Louis; “and if -you wish to impress yourself with the magnitude of the present one, get -Eugenia to take you to see ‘All Saints.’” - -The conversation now turned into other channels, and it was not -until Margaret was saying good-night to Mrs. Gaston, in the latter’s -dressing-room, that she reverted to this subject. - -“I can well believe that Mr. Gaston is a clever architect,” she said, -“his eye is so keen and steady. I should like to see some of his work. -This ‘All Saints’ Church is very beautiful, I suppose. Shall we really -go to see it some day?” - -Mrs. Gaston broke into her little light laugh. - -“That’s a piece of nonsense of Louis’, my dear,” she said. “It’s a -cheap little mission chapel, built by a very poor congregation in a -wretched part of the town. The Travers girls got Louis interested in -it, and he made them the designs and estimates and superintends its -erection. Of course he charged them nothing; in fact, I believe he -subscribed a good deal toward it himself. He is amused at the idea -of their calling it ‘All Saints,’ and making it such a comprehensive -memorial. He and his partner have designed some really beautiful -buildings here, however, which I will show you. Louis is very clever, -don’t you think so?” - -“I hardly feel able to judge, yet,” said Margaret, “but if you say so, -I will believe it, for since I’ve been with you, Cousin Eugenia, I -begin to think I never knew any one before who was clever.” - -“Why are you always forcing one to remind you of your ignorance, -child?” retorted Mrs. Gaston, laughing lightly. “This is the most -convincing proof we have had of it yet.” - -As Margaret went up to say good-night, she felt a strong impulse to -express some of the ever-ready affection which her cousin’s kindness -had awakened in her heart; but Cousin Eugenia was a woman to whom it -was very hard to be affectionate, and she thwarted her young cousin’s -intention now by turning her cheek so coolly that the ardent words -died on the girl’s lips. Mrs. Gaston was naturally unsympathetic, -and it almost seemed as if she cultivated the quality. However that -might be, it was certain that, at the end of a month spent in daily -companionship with this bright and agreeable cousin, Margaret was -obliged to admit to herself that she had not taken one step toward the -intimate friendship she would have liked to establish between them. Her -cousin was kindness itself, and always companionable and agreeable, -but she was scarcely ever really serious, although she had at hand -a reserve of decorous gravity which she could always draw upon when -occasion required. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -“Eugenia,” said Louis Gaston, tapping at his sister-in-law’s door one -morning, “I stopped to say that I will get tickets for Miss Trevennon -and yourself for the opera Monday evening, if you say so.” - -“_I_ don’t say so, my dear Louis, I assure you,” returned Mrs. Gaston -opening her door and appearing before him in a tasteful morning toilet. -“If you take Margaret and me to the opera, it must be for your own -pleasure; she is not the kind of guest to hang heavily on her hostess’ -hands. I’ve never been at a loss for her entertainment for a moment -since she has been here, and what is more, scarcely ever for my own. I -find myself quite equal to the task of providing for her amusement, and -so it has not been difficult for me to keep my promise of not calling -upon you in her behalf.” - -“You certainly never made me any such promise as that, and it would -have been very absurd if you had.” - -“Ah, perhaps then it was to Margaret that I made it! The main point is -that I’ve kept it.” - -“Of course, Eugenia, it goes without saying, that when you have a young -guest in the house my services are at your disposal.” - -“Oh, certainly. Only, in this instance, I prefer to let all suggestions -come from yourself. I know you only put up with my Southern relatives -because of your regard for me, and, strong as is my faith in that -sentiment, I don’t want to test it too severely; but I won’t detain -you. Mrs. Gaston and Miss Trevennon accept with pleasure Mr. Gaston’s -kind invitation for Monday evening. The opera is _Favorita_--isn’t it? -Margaret has never heard it, I know; it will be very nice to initiate -her. Will you be at home to dinner to-day?” - -“Yes, of course,” replied the young man, looking back over his shoulder -as he walked away. - -“Oh, of course!” soliloquized his sister-in-law, as she turned back -into her apartment. “Quite as if you were never known to do otherwise! -Oh, the men! How facile they are! Louis, as well as the rest! I had -expected something to come of this case of propinquity, but I did _not_ -expect it to come so quickly. He hasn’t dined out more than twice since -she’s been here, and then with visible reluctance, and he has only been -once to New York, and I suspect the designs are suffering. And Margaret -too! It’s quite the same with her--saying to me last night that his -manners are so fine that she is constrained to admit that, taking Louis -as an exponent of the Northern system, it must be better than the one -she had always supposed to be the best! It works rapidly both ways, -but there must be a hitch before long, for in reality they are as far -asunder as the poles. Every tradition and every prejudice of each is -diametrically opposed to the other. How _will_ it end, I wonder?” - -It happened that Mrs. Gaston did an unusual amount of shopping and -visiting that day, and was so fatigued in consequence that she had -dinner served to her in her own apartment, and Margaret dined alone -with the two gentlemen. Afterward she went up and spent an hour with -the vivacious invalid, whom she found lying on the bed, surrounded -by an array of paper novels by miscellaneous authors, the titles of -which were of such a flashy and trashy order that Margaret felt sure -she would never have cared to turn the first page of any of them, and -wondered much that her intelligent and cultivated cousin could find -the least interest in their contents. Mrs. Gaston was in the habit of -ridiculing these novels herself, but would say, with a laugh, that -they were “the greatest rest to her,” and Margaret was continually -expecting to find her immersed in some abstruse work, which would -sufficiently tax her mental powers to account for the liberal allowance -of relaxation which was to counteract it; but, so far, she had been -disappointed. - -Mrs. Gaston laid her novel by on Margaret’s entrance, and gave her -young cousin a cordial welcome. The two sat talking busily until -General Gaston came up to his dressing-room to prepare for a lecture to -which he was going, and to which he offered to take Margaret. His wife -put her veto on that plan, however, pronouncing it a stupid affair, and -saying that Margaret would be better entertained at home. - -“But you are not to stay up here with me, my dear,” she said. “Go down -stairs. Some one will be coming in by-and-by, I dare say, and you must -not think of coming back to entertain me. I am bent on seeing how this -absurd story ends; it’s the most deliciously preposterous thing I ever -read,--so bad, that it’s good! Say good-night now, dear. I know you are -never dull; so I dismiss you to your own devices. I don’t know where -Louis is, but he may come and join you after a while. There’s never -much counting on him, however.” - -When Margaret descended to the drawing-room, the library doors were -thrown apart, and through them she could see Louis Gaston bending over -some large sheets of heavy paper, on which he was drawing lines by -careful measurement. He looked up at the sound of her footsteps, and, -as she took a magazine from the table, and seated herself in a large -chair before the fire, he came in with his pencil in his hand, and -leaning his back against the end of the mantel, said: - -“Eugenia tells me you have never seen _Favorita_, and I so rejoiced to -put an end to that state of affairs! You don’t know what an absolute -refreshment it has been to me to observe your enjoyment of the music -you have heard since you have been here. I don’t think I have ever -received from any one such an impression of a true appreciation of -music. It seems rather odd, as you neither play nor sing yourself.” - -“It pleases me to think that my own incapacity does not interfere in -the least with my enjoyment of music,” Margaret said. “When I hear -beautiful music my pleasure in it is not impaired by any feeling of -regret that I cannot produce such a thing myself. It no more occurs to -me to long for that, than to long to create a beautiful sunset when I -see one.” - -“The fact that one is attainable, while the other is not, would make -a difference, I think.” He paused a moment, and then went on with his -pleasant smile: “Do you know this discovery of mine--that of your -fastidious appreciation of music--has been the thing that deterred me -from inflicting any of my own upon you? I was so set against this that -I made Eugenia promise not to acquaint you with the fact that I can -sing a little.” - -“How could you do that?” exclaimed Margaret, reproachfully, with a -keen conception of what lovely effects in singing might be produced by -this richly modulated voice, whose spoken utterances she so admired. -“I might have had such delight in hearing you sing! I am accustomed -to having music so constantly at home. We have a friend there, a -young man, who is almost like one of our own household, who sings -beautifully. He has a lovely voice, so pure and strong, but entirely -uncultivated. In some things it shows this almost painfully, but there -are others that he renders exquisitely. Sacred music he sings best.” - -“Ah, that I have never tried, at least not much. Your friend’s voice -is the opposite of mine. I had really very little to begin with, and -an immense deal of practice and training has not enabled me to do much -more than direct properly the small amount of power I possess, and -disguise its insufficiency more or less. It isn’t very much, after -all, and yet how I have pegged away at my scales and exercises! I had -a most exacting master when I was in Germany, and as I was studying -my profession at the same time, I wore myself almost to a skeleton. I -studied very hard at the School of Architecture, but I never practised -less than three hours a day--often four.” - -He was talking on, very lightly, but he stopped short, arrested by -an expression on the face of his companion that he was at a loss to -account for. There was a look of enthusiastic ardor in her eyes that -amounted to positive emotion. - -“How can you speak so lightly of a thing that was really so noble?” she -said, in a voice full of feeling. - -Louis’ face broke into a smile of sheerest astonishment, but at the -same time he felt himself strangely stirred by the feeling that he had -roused this warm admiration in the breast of this fair young lady. - -“My dear Miss Trevennon,” he said earnestly, “you amaze me by applying -such a word to my conduct. I went abroad to study architecture and -music, and there was every reason why I should make the most of the -three years I had allotted to these purposes. That I did my part with -some degree of thoroughness was only what I felt bound to do, in the -simplest justice to myself and others. When I think of the fellows who -accomplished twice what I did, contending against such obstacles as -poverty, or ill-health, or the absence of proper facilities, I find -the word _noble_, as applied to myself, almost humiliating. Do you -know, your views on some points are extremely puzzling to me?” - -“I am at sea,” said Margaret gently, with a hesitating little smile. -“Things that I see about me seem strange and unfamiliar, and I often -feel that I have lost my bearings. But your resolute application to -studies that must often have been wearying and laborious, to the -exclusion of the relaxations most young men find necessary, rouses my -profound admiration. I have never known a man who was capable of a -thing like that.” - -“Will you do me the kindness to tell me if I am blushing?” said Louis. -“I veritably believe so, and as it is a thing I have never been -known to do before, I should like to have the occurrence certified -to. I venture to hope, however, that the fact is accounted for by my -being physically thick skinned, and not morally so, for I have known -myself to be blushing when the fact would not have been suspected by -outsiders. Just now, however, I fancy it must have been evident to the -most casual observer.” - -He saw that the levity of his words and tones were, for some reason, -discordant to Miss Trevennon, and so he spoke in a graver voice, as he -said: - -“I feel musical to-night, and almost as if I could overcome the -hesitation I have spoken of sufficiently to sing you some of the music -of _Favorita_ in anticipation of Monday night.” - -“Oh, why don’t you? It would be so delightful!” exclaimed Margaret, -fired at the suggestion. - -“I never feel that I can sing well when I have to play my own -accompaniments,” he said. “But for that----” - -“Oh, if you have the music, do let me play for you!” - -“Could you do it? I thought you did not play. Have you also been -practising concealment?” - -“My music amounts to nothing, but I could easily manage an -accompaniment. Have you the notes?” - -“Yes, just at hand. What a delightful idea! I never thought of this. -You shouldn’t have cheated me out of such a pleasure all this time. Let -me open the piano. Come!” - -He tossed his pencil down upon the table, and moved across the room -as he spoke. Seeing his action, Margaret checked herself as she was -following, and said suddenly: - -“I forgot your work. I really cannot interfere with that.” - -“Never mind the work. The work may go. I’ll make it up somehow. Could -you manage this, do you think?” - -By way of answer, Margaret seated herself and ran over the prelude with -tolerable ease, and at the proper time nodded to him to begin. - -There was no interruption until the really impressive voice had died -away in the last note, and then Margaret dropped her hands on her lap -and said, with a long-drawn breath: - -“I can see no lack. It is most beautiful. I think you must have -greatly under-estimated your voice. It has a quality that touches me -deeply.” - -“What there is of it does pretty well,” Louis answered, smiling, well -pleased at her earnest commendation. “Ames says I’m the best singer -to have no voice that he ever heard, which is the greatest amount of -praise I can lay claim to.” - -“I feel more than ever, now, the lack of cultivation in Mr. Somers’ -voice,” said Margaret. “It is really a grand organ, but he scarcely -knows how to sing anything with entire correctness, unless it is -something in which he has been carefully drilled by some one who knows -a little more than himself. I wish he could hear you sing.” - -“I wish I could hear him,” said Louis. “If he has the voice, the -cultivation can be acquired readily enough; but with me the utmost has -been done. Much of this music is rather beyond me. Let us try a ballad.” - -He was bending over the rack, in search of some particular piece, when -the door-bell sounded. They both heard it, and their eyes met with a -look of disappointment. - -“It’s too bad,” said Margaret, regretfully. “I don’t want to be -interrupted.” - -“In that case,” said Louis, promptly, arresting the servant on his way -to the door by a quick motion of the hand, “suppose you allow me to -have the ladies excused.” - -Margaret assented readily, and the order was accordingly given. - -A moment later the servant came into the room, presenting two cards -on a tray. Gaston glanced at them, and Margaret saw his face change -slightly. - -“I am afraid Eugenia will make me suffer for this,” he said. “One of -these visitors was young Leary.” - -“Who is he?” asked Margaret, simply. - -“You surely know who the Learys are?” Gaston replied, in a tone of -reproachful incredulity that was almost severe. “They come of one -of the most distinguished families at the North, and are here for -the winter. The father of this young man has held various important -diplomatic and political offices. They visit very little, and Eugenia -will be annoyed that young Leary has not been admitted. I don’t think -he has ever called here before, except to acknowledge an invitation. He -sat near us at the theatre the other night, and I saw that he observed -you; so this visit is probably a tribute to you.” - -“I don’t know that you have said anything about him to make me regret -him especially,” said Margaret, “only that he’s Mr. Leary; and what’s -in a name? Is there any reason why one should particularly desire him -as an acquaintance?” - -Mr. Gaston looked slightly bewildered. Then he began to speak, and -checked himself suddenly. Then, turning back to the piano, and -beginning to look over the music, he said, somewhat hurriedly: - -“It is only that they are people it’s well to be civil to.” - -There was something in the tone Louis took, in regard to this matter, -that puzzled Margaret--a tone that had also puzzled her in the other -members of the Gaston family. There seemed to be a certain anxiety with -all of them to know the right people, and be seen at the proper houses, -and have only the best people at their own. Margaret Trevennon, for her -part, had never had a qualm of this sort in her life, and supposed, -moreover, that only vulgar or uncertainly posed people could possibly -be subject to them. And yet here were people who were not only not -vulgar but more elegant and charming than any men and women she had -ever known, who were entitled to, and actually held, an unimpeachable -social position, and who yet seemed to find it necessary to struggle -hard to maintain it, and were continually possessed by a positive -anxiety to appear to be distinguished! Really, it seemed their first -and principal concern. This was the first time she had seen a decided -indication of the feeling in Louis Gaston, and somehow it hurt her -more in him than in the others. Unconsciously she gave a little sigh. - -“Dear me!” she thought to herself, “what an unpleasant idea! Why need -people assume anything, when they actually have it all? It never -occurred to me that really nice people could give themselves any -concern of this sort.” - -And then, as she turned and suddenly met Louis’ eyes, her face broke -into a smile of sudden amusement. - -“What is it?” said the young man, eagerly. - -“I was laughing at some lines from the ‘Bab Ballads’ that happened to -come into my head just then,” she said. - -“What were they? I dote upon the Babs. Do let’s have them.” - - “Lord Lardy would smile and observe, - ‘How strange are the customs of France!’” - -quoted Margaret. “I dare say they don’t seem very relevant. But come, -let’s go on with the music,” she added, hurriedly. “We must not prolong -the interruption.” - -Mr. Gaston had smiled at her quotation and then become suddenly grave. -As he selected a sheet of music and put it on the rack before her, he -said seriously: - -“I sometimes see that there are little points that we look at very -differently. Perhaps we may come to understand each other by-and-by. -I hope so, sincerely. And now, are you familiar with this, and do you -care for it?” - -The selection happened to be a favorite of Margaret’s, and she entered -delightedly into its rendition, and very soon the lovely strains of -the sweet, sympathetic voice had banished all discordant thoughts and -memories. - -“There, Miss Trevennon,” he said, as the song came to an end, “you’ve -heard me do my little best now. Your accompaniments suit me perfectly. -I am sure I never sang better. I hope we may have many another pleasant -evening, such as this, together.” - -Margaret had risen from the piano and was standing before the fire, -and she watched him with mingled interest and surprise, as he neatly -replaced the music in the rack, lowered the instrument, and carefully -arranged the cover, with a habit of orderliness of which she had also -seen indications in General Gaston. It was to her almost a new trait, -in men. - -“Cousin Eugenia insists upon early hours, now that I am not going out,” -said Margaret, “so, as it is half-past ten, I will say good-night. -I feel rather guilty,” she added, pausing in the door-way, “for -interrupting your work to-night. I dare say you wanted to finish it.” - -“Oh, as to that, it isn’t a matter of choice,” he murmured; “Ames must -have those estimates to-morrow, and they are bound to go on the morning -train.” - -“And when are they to be done?” - -“Now, at once. I can easily finish them off to-night,” he replied -carelessly. “Pray don’t look as if you had committed a mortal sin, Miss -Trevennon,” he added, smiling. “I assure you I don’t weigh this little -nocturnal application as dust in the balance against the pleasure I’ve -had in this musical evening with you. I hope it is not on my account -you are hurrying off. I assure you there is abundance of time for my -purposes. I shall take these papers to my room and finish them.” - -But Margaret, bent upon not hindering him further, retired at once. - -The next morning Mrs. Gaston asked her brother-in-law at breakfast, -whether he had not passed her room about sunrise, and, with some -confusion, he was compelled to own that he had. - -“What provoking ears you have, Eugenia!” he said; “I flattered myself -that a mouse could not have been more noiseless. I am sorry to have -disturbed you, especially as you had not been feeling well.” - -“Oh, I was awake, at any rate. But what was the occasion of your early -expedition?” she asked, without showing any especial surprise. - -“I had to post some papers to Ames,” he said; “and though I had told -Thomas I would ring for him to take them, the morning was so bright -and clear that I fancied I should like the walk. And really it was most -refreshing.” - -“I can fancy you needed refreshment,” Mrs. Gaston said, “if, as I don’t -doubt, you had been at work all night.” - -Mr. Gaston made no response. He was helping himself from a dish offered -by a servant at the moment, and seemed disposed to let the matter drop; -but Margaret, urged by an irresistible impulse, arrested his eye and -said quickly: - -“Had you?” - -“Had I what, Miss Trevennon?” - -“Had you been at work all night?” - -“Pretty much, I believe; but why do you look so tragic? I am not in -delicate health, that the lack of a little sleep should entail serious -consequences.” - -“‘Pleasure the way you like it’!” said Mrs. Gaston. “Louis really -likes that sort of thing; he deserves no credit for it. I used to -apprehend that I should find myself brother-in-law-less very shortly -in consequence of those habits, but he thrives on them; he’s the -healthiest person I know. Don’t waste your sympathy on him, Margaret; -keep it all for me. It isn’t those who endure hardships, but those who -can’t endure them that should be pitied.” - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -The season was now fairly opened, and Mrs. Gaston kept her young -guest liberally supplied with amusement. There were all sorts of -entertainments for them to go to, some of which Margaret found -very inspiring and delightful, and some extremely dull. Cousin -Eugenia, however, found nothing unprofitable. Every visit and every -entertainment served some purpose, in her abstruse economy, and, if she -failed to derive actual diversion from any, it still fulfilled some -end, and in some manner was turned to account. - -She would take Margaret with her on the endless round of afternoon -calls that she made, never doubting that she was conferring an immense -favor on her young country cousin, until the latter begged to be -excused from some of them, confessing that they wearied her. This was a -great surprise to Cousin Eugenia, who cherished the honest conviction -that every opportunity of catching a glimpse of the great world of -fashion must perforce be esteemed a high privilege and delight by this -little Southern cousin, whom she pitied profoundly for her necessary -isolation from such sources of happiness. Margaret was perfectly aware -of this, and secretly much amused at it. That Cousin Eugenia, or any -one, should commiserate her upon her lot in life was something very -strange to her, for she had always known herself to be a very happy and -fortunate girl. - -“The Kellers give such stupid parties!” said Cousin Eugenia one -evening, as she and Margaret were returning from a large entertainment. -“I haven’t missed one of them for the past five years, and they are -asphyxiating affairs. I’m glad this one is well over.” - -“Why do you go to them, then?” - -“Oh, every one does. At least every one who can. You saw how full the -rooms were this evening, and yet every one there was bored.” - -“I was, undoubtedly,” said Margaret, “and for that reason I should -certainly not go again.” - -“You can afford to be independent, my dear, being here only on a visit, -but if you lived in Washington you’d soon find that it was desirable -for you to be seen at the Kellers’.” - -“Why?” - -“Oh, because of their position.” - -Margaret was silent a moment, and then she said impulsively: - -“Do excuse my asking such a thing, Cousin Eugenia, but I really want -to understand. Could it possibly enhance your social value to be seen -anywhere?” - -Cousin Eugenia gave a little shrug. - -“You put things so oddly, child, with your Southern notions! Of course -our social position is fixed and definite and nobody would dispute -it. But, large as the Kellers’ circle is, their parties are very -_recherché_, and it’s well worth while to be seen there.” - -“I thought----” began Margaret. - -“Well, go on,” said her cousin, as the girl hesitated. “Out with it. -Let me hear.” - -“I was only going to say that I thought a lady, born and reared, never -had to think of anything like that.” - -“Like what?” - -“Where she is seen and whether her associations will be considered -correct. I thought that it would all come of itself--that a lady would -not be in danger of making mistakes of that sort, because what she did -would be the natural outgrowth of what she was.” - -“Those may be the Southern ideas, but you’d not find them to answer -here.” - -“I don’t know whether they are Southern ideas or not,” said Margaret; -“I never knew they were ideas at all. Certainly, I have never heard -them formulated before, and I don’t quite know how to express myself. -They simply seem to me instincts.” - -“That’s because of the associations you have had,” said Mrs. Gaston. -“I have seen very little of your parents of late years, but they have -lived in my mind as people of thorough refinement. Your father is a -model of a gentleman--the most high-bred man I ever knew, I think.” - -A radiant light came into Margaret’s face. - -“My darling, dear old father!” she said, fondly. “There is surely no -one like him, and yet if I were to repeat your compliment to him, how -amazed he would be! He has not an idea how fine he is, and has never -once paused to consider whether he is high-bred or not. He would not -hurt the feelings of the lowest wretch on earth--there is no one too -mean for his kindly consideration. May I tell you an idea that has -occurred to me, when I’ve been in society here, surrounded by such -well-dressed, elegant looking, accomplished men, and have compared them -to him? It is that they are all trying to be what he is.” - -Mrs. Gaston did not reply at once, but her silence proceeded from no -feeling of intolerance of this sentiment. She was not at all given to -resenting things, partly because of a natural indolence, and partly -because she did not feel enough on any subject to be biassed by impulse. - -“I can understand your having that feeling about your father,” she -said, presently, “and it’s quite possible it may be true. We will -submit the point when we find any one wise enough to decide it for us. -But the world is large, and there are many men and many minds, and -manners vary in different places. That line of tactics would not do in -Washington.” - -At this point in their conversation they found themselves at home, and -the subject was consequently dropped. - -It happened about this time that some of Mrs. Gaston’s wide circle -of Southern connections, who were always cropping up in Washington, -came to the city, and Cousin Eugenia took Margaret and went to call -upon--or, as she did not hesitate to put it, to inspect them. They were -a General and Mrs. Reardon, the former an ex-Confederate officer, who -had been previously in the United States army, and who was distantly -related to both Mrs. Gaston and Margaret, though neither of them had -anything more than a slight acquaintance with him. - -Margaret soon perceived that Cousin Eugenia did not consider them up to -the mark socially--a fact which was further evidenced by their being -invited to lunch, and not to dinner, next day. No one was asked to meet -them, and Mrs. Gaston excused the gentlemen on the score of business -hours. Margaret noted the whole proceeding, and saw through it and -beyond it. Cousin Eugenia was perfectly polite and pleasant--extremely -sweet, in fact--and yet there was something in her manner toward these -simple Southern people, of a type so familiar to Margaret Trevennon, -that the girl involuntarily resented. She showed none of this feeling -to Mrs. Gaston, however, for she was beginning to understand that, -although that clever lady in matters of abstract theory appeared to -be most reasonable and open to conviction, she was adamant itself in -carrying out her peculiar designs and purposes, and quite unused to -interference from any one. - -The Reardons came next day, according to appointment, and the little -luncheon-party passed off very pleasantly, greatly owing to Margaret’s -efforts to make it do so. - -When the guests were taking leave, they asked if Mrs. Gaston and -Margaret would not go with them to an Art Exhibition in the evening. -The proposal came, in a subdued and deprecating sort of way, from Mrs. -Reardon, who was still young and pretty enough to be somewhat eager -for pleasure, and although Mrs. Gaston declined it for herself, on the -score of indisposition, she encouraged Margaret to go, and the latter -very willingly agreed to do so. - -She went accordingly, and was pretty well entertained with what -she saw, recognizing some acquaintances, among whom was young Mr. -Leary, who had been sufficiently persevering to call again, with -better success next time, and who had always been especially polite -to Margaret on meeting her in society. Shortly before leaving, an -acquaintance of General Reardon’s came up, to whom Margaret was -presented. He was a Major King, a Southern man, as Margaret somehow -divined at a glance, and a resident of Washington, as it soon appeared. -Before the party separated, he inquired where Miss Trevennon was -staying, and asked her permission to call upon her. Margaret yielded -the permission, of course, but with a strange feeling of reluctance; -she saw that, though a familiar type of Southern man, he was not a -favorable one. There was a sort of aggressive self-confidence in his -bearing, which was unpleasant enough to her, but which she knew would -be positively offensive to the prejudiced minds of the Gastons. He -belonged to a class she knew well--men whose range of vision had been -limited, but who were possessed of a feeling of superiority to others -in general, and an absolute conviction of superiority to the best -Yankee that ever lived. It was an attitude of mind that had always -irritated her, but she had never felt the force of it with such -indignation as now, when she was being hourly impressed with the worth -and superior qualities of these people whom her Southern compatriots -regarded with such scorn. If Major King should come to call, however, -she could feel confident that he would not betray the presence of this -vindictive feeling, for, despite her disapproval of his tone and manner -in general, she felt that she could count upon his possessing a spirit -of courtesy, a hidden germ of which she had rarely found wanting in a -Southern man’s breast. - -Margaret mentioned, at breakfast next morning, the fact of her having -met Major King, and inquired of her friends if they knew him. The two -gentlemen were silent, and Mrs. Gaston replied by a simple negative. -She had intended to mention the fact that he had proposed to call upon -her, but some instinct prevented her doing so. Very probably he would -not come; and, besides, she had an indefinable feeling that there was -danger in the topic. - -It had become a habit with Margaret to go from the breakfast-table to -the bow-window, on the corner of the house, to watch for the coming -of the postman, and recently Mr. Gaston had fallen into the way of -accompanying her. As the two young people found themselves together in -the richly curtained recess, Margaret turned to her companion, with a -smile, and said: - -“Mr. Leary was there last night. He talked to me for quite half an -hour. Ought I to have been elated?” - -“Certainly not,” replied the young man, frowning slightly. “Why do you -ask such a thing? The idea is quite absurd.” - -“Yes, isn’t it?” said Margaret, smiling. “He has so little sense, and -he talks so much about himself. Here comes the postman!” She broke off -suddenly, running to open the door herself, never divining that it -would have been considered more decorous to wait until Thomas came up -from the lower regions, and, with his usual deliberation, brought in -the letters on his silver tray. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -It happened one evening, a few days later on, that Margaret found -herself once more _tête-à-tête_ with Louis Gaston. General and Mrs. -Gaston had gone to a dinner, from which Margaret was not sorry to be -excused. - -It was a cold and rainy evening in December, and the drawing-room, with -its rich drapery and soft, deep Persian carpeting, was delightfully -comfortable and warm, the wind, as it whistled and blustered outside, -adding to this effect. The bright lights which hung from the ceiling, -together with the glowing fire in the grate, shed a perfect wealth of -warmth and radiance around, and brought out the delicious fragrance of -the fresh flowers, which filled a china bowl on a distant table. Louis, -as on the former occasion, bent over the table, just within the library -door, with his back toward the drawing-room, and Margaret, as before, -sat in the deep arm-chair before the fire. - -“This is the lucky chance that I’ve been waiting for,” said Gaston, -turning to look at Margaret, as she settled herself with her book. “It -is such a bad evening that I think we may hope for an immunity from -visitors, and in a few minutes I shall lay by my work and come and try -some new music I’ve provided, if you agree.” - -“I shall be charmed,” said Margaret, with ready acquiescence. “I feel -just in the humor for it. I utterly repel the proposition, however, if -you are going to sit up all night in consequence.” - -“I will not, I assure you. It is not necessary, in the least. I’ll just -finish off a small bit that I am engaged on at present, and then put -the rest by until to-morrow.” - -He returned to his work, and Margaret to her reading, and for a few -moments the silence was unbroken, save by the sound of the wind and -rain outside, and the soft little noises made by Louis with his pencil -and rule. - -Suddenly the door-bell rang, and, as before, they looked at each other -regretfully. Louis was about to make the same proposition that his -companion had responded to so promptly on the former occasion, but a -look at Margaret’s face checked him. An instinct which she scarcely -understood herself, made it impossible for her to do a thing like that -now. The fact that she was conscious of feeling a strong liking for -Louis, restrained her from giving such a proof of it as this would be. - -“I am sorry to give up the music,” she said simply, as Thomas went by -to the door, unchallenged. “There is still room to hope that it is a -call that will not concern us.” - -For a moment this seemed likely, as there was a short colloquy with -Thomas at the door before the visitor was admitted, and even after that -he lingered to remove his overcoat and rubbers in the hall, with a -deliberation that implied a degree of familiarity that Margaret could -not identify as belonging to any visitor at the house whom she had yet -met. - -The next moment, as Louis Gaston and herself were both watching the -door-way, Major King appeared, tall, gaunt, and awkward, but eminently -self-possessed. - -His loosely hung, impractically tall figure was clad in the inevitable -shiny black “best clothes,” that poor Margaret knew so well, even to -the cut of the long frock-coat, with its flapping tails behind and -its bagging, unhindered fronts, between which was displayed, through -a premeditated opening in the vest, a modicum of white shirt-front, -interrupted for an inch or so by the fastening of the upper buttons, -only to reveal itself in more generous expansiveness higher up upon the -Major’s manly bosom. - -Margaret’s quick eye at once perceived the incongruity of the whole -situation, and warned her of the necessity of effort on the part of all -to reconcile and overcome it. She went forward and received Major King -with the perfect politeness which was as natural to her as breathing, -and then turned to present Mr. Gaston, who, with the folding-doors of -the library opened wide, was quite as if he were in the same room. - -Gaston’s aspect, at the first glance she gave him, was absolutely -startling to her. His whole bearing had changed. He had risen from his -seat and turned toward the drawing-room, and was standing by the table, -very erect and still. The expression of his face was repellant to the -last degree, the brows were contracted in a slight but perceptible -frown, and the lips were shut with a firm severity. - -Margaret, as she mechanically named the two men to each other, -could not help drawing a swift mental contrast between the gaunt -Southerner, whose features were, in reality, the handsomer of the -two, and the Northern man, in his quiet evening dress, and wondering -why the latter looked so greatly the superior. Mr. Gaston’s attitude, -despite its stiffness, was dignified and impressive, and Major King’s, -notwithstanding its ease, was slouching and ungainly. - -But the most significant point of contrast came when each man, after -his kind, acknowledged the introduction. - -“Glad to meet you, sir,” said Major King, in loud, reverberating tones, -and made a motion forward, as if to extend his hand. This impulse was -repressed, however, by the short, supercilious bow with which the other -responded, pronouncing the two words, “Good-evening,” with a chilling -and clear-cut utterance that formed the strongest possible contrast to -the stranger’s bluff and off-hand style of address. Margaret observed -that he did not pronounce Major King’s name at all. - -The young girl watched this interchange of greetings with a rush of -conflicting emotions. Indignation, shame, astonishment and real pain -fought for the predominance; but above all, she was conscious of an -instinct which made her feel that the Southern man’s side was her side. - -Mr. Gaston, as soon as the introduction was over, resumed his seat -at the library-table, and went on with his work, turning his back -squarely toward the drawing-room, an action which made it impossible -for Major King to fail to realize that he was being intentionally and -deliberately slighted. How galling this knowledge must be to a Southern -man Margaret well knew, and she felt all her sympathies enlisted for -Major King. With the keenest anxiety she watched to see what his course -would be. - -With a slight flushing of the cheek and a dark flashing of the eye, -the tall Southerner seated himself in a delicate little gilt chair, -which he proceeded to tip backward, until his heavy weight caused the -slight wood-work to creak ominously. Then, in response to a brilliant -leader respecting the weather, thrown out by poor Margaret in her -extremity, he launched into a fluent and somewhat irrelevant strain -of conversation, which soon made it evident that he could go alone. -His voice, alas! was loud and self-asserting, and his whole manner so -arrogant and ill-bred that Margaret felt her spirit of partisanship -growing fainter and fainter. One thing alone was clear to her, and -that was her own course. She heard Major King with polite attention, -and answered his remarks, when his fluency would permit, with entire -courtesy. But Margaret was on the rack the whole time as he talked on, -loud, familiar, and irritating. Louis Gaston, seated just within the -library door, heard every word--as indeed he must have been deaf not -to do--and Margaret fancied she could detect an expression of angry -superciliousness in the very attitude of the well-set shoulders and the -inclination of the close-cropped head. - -The minutes came and went, until they mounted up to hours, and still -Major King sat and talked and laughed and told jokes with a ghastly -hilarity, which his companion found it frightfully hard to respond to. -Nine o’clock struck--ten, eleven, and still he did not go! It could not -be that he was enjoying himself, for the poor girl felt that he was -secretly as uncomfortable as herself, and, besides, he could never -have had a less entertaining companion. She forced herself to attend, -while he was giving an account of a play he had seen the night before, -which must have been lame and impotent enough in the first instance, -but which in the rehash was intolerable. She even tried to laugh when -he came to the amusing parts, which he always indicated by laughing -loudly himself. But it was torture to her. - -All things have an end, however, an indisputable proposition with which -Margaret had buoyed herself up repeatedly during this trying visit, -and at last Major King rose to go. He was not going to be browbeaten -into a hasty retreat, however. Not he! He would take his time about -it, and by way of a parting assertion of ease, he took up a handsome -book from the table, and after reading the title aloud, with a jocular -air and a somewhat defective pronunciation, he tossed it down so -carelessly that the beautiful _edition de luxe_ fell to the floor, with -its delicate leaves crushed open beneath its heavy cover. He made no -effort to recover it, until he saw Margaret stooping to do so, when he -hastily picked it up, and flung rather than placed it on the table. -When Margaret had shaken hands with him, and said good-night, with no -tinge of abatement of the courtesy which had characterized her conduct -throughout, she looked toward the library and saw that Mr. Gaston had -risen and turned toward them, bowing to Major King with exactly the -same motion and expression as that with which he had acknowledged their -introduction. There was one difference, however. The little frigid bow -was given in perfect silence, and not one word of farewell was spoken. -Major King responded by a short, defiant nod, and a flashing glance -which might have surprised the other, had he allowed his gaze to rest -upon the visitor’s face long enough to perceive it. - -There was a necessary delay in the hall over the rubbers and overcoat, -which it seemed to Margaret that he put on with elaborate slowness, and -then, at last, the front door closed behind Major King with a loud, -contemptuous bang. - -The ordeal was over, but it left poor Margaret with a heavy heart; she -felt disgusted with everything and everybody. - -“There’s not a pin to choose between them,” she was saying to herself, -“only Mr. Gaston was the host, and Mr. Gaston is the more enlightened -man, and therefore more bound to know better.” - -She was too angry to look at Louis, and was leaving the room with a -quiet “good-night,” when the young man arrested her by saying, in a -tone of undisguised indignation: - -“Twenty minutes past eleven o’clock; and a first visit too! This is -intolerable!” - -Margaret looked straight into his eyes, with a steady glance of scorn, -that she made no effort to disguise. - -“I dare say Major King was unaware of the lateness of the hour,” she -said, in a cool, high tone. “Good-night, Mr. Gaston.” - -And she walked quietly out of the room, and mounted the stairs to her -own apartment, angrier than she had been yet. - -She closed the door behind her, turned the gas on full, and stretched -herself out at her whole length on the lounge, clasping her hands under -her head. Her thoughts were too confused to be formulated, but the one -that predominated over all the rest was that she could never like Louis -Gaston again. She had the feeling that would have made her wish to -fight him had she been a man. - -Major King’s conduct had been in the highest degree reprehensible, but -he had been led on to it by the slights the other offered him. And -then, too, she had a keen perception of what Major King’s opportunities -had probably been. He belonged to the class of impoverished Southerners -who had lost everything by the war, and had probably spent most of the -years of his manhood in a small village, living in a style that formed -a strong contrast to the affluence of his youth. His bearing, during -this trying evening, she attributed much to ignorance and much to -the stinging sense of failure and defeat, which the war had left on -so many Southern men. Added to all this, there must have been a keen -indignation at the unjustness and insolence with which he was treated -by a man from whom he had a right to expect common civility at least. - -But with Louis Gaston it was different. He could not plead the excuse -of isolation and ignorance. He was a cultivated man of the world, who -had all the advantages of education, travel, and wealth; and, more than -all, his offence was heinous, in a Southern mind, because it had been -committed against the stranger within the gates. - -“Nothing can ever wipe it out,” she muttered to herself; “the longer -one thinks of it the worse it grows. There are half-a-dozen palliations -for Major King, but for Mr. Gaston there is not one. I am certain that -Major King, in spite of it all, would have been incapable of treating -his worst enemy so. What a mortifying, humiliating experience!” - -And, with a gesture of disgust, Miss Trevennon rose and walked to the -dressing-table, beginning slowly to unfasten her little ornaments, in -preparation for the night’s rest, which, in her perturbed state of -mind, was very long in coming to her. - -Louis Gaston, meanwhile, left to his own reflections, grew conscious of -the fact that he was feeling very uncomfortable. The sensation was not -by any means a new one. He had harbored it, uninterruptedly, for the -past three hours, but it had undergone a change in kind and degree. He -was relieved from the intolerable infliction of Major King’s presence, -but unrest in another form had entered his breast; and though its -nature was less tangible and aggressive, it somehow seemed to strike -deeper. - -He could not be blind to the fact that he had offended Margaret, whose -conduct during the evening had really puzzled him as much as his had -puzzled her. How could she bear to be pleasant and civil to a man like -that? It made him angry to think of the fellow’s daring even to speak -to her, and he assured himself that he had been perfectly right to -pursue a course which would free her from such an obnoxious intrusion -in future. And yet, under it all, there was a glimmering, disturbing -little consciousness that he had somehow been in the wrong. It was the -first time in his life that he had had occasion to distrust his social -methods, and he would not quite own to such a state of mind now. There -was, moreover, another feeling at work within his breast, which caused -him to determine that he would make some concessions, if necessary, to -reinstate himself in this young lady’s regard. It was a thing which -he knew he had heretofore enjoyed, and he felt a strong reluctance to -giving it up. - -Neither were Louis Gaston’s slumbers as serene and tranquil as usual -that night. He made some effort to return to his work, but he found it -impossible to fix his attention on it, and so retired to bed to wait -for the sleep that was so strangely long in coming. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -When Miss Trevennon appeared at breakfast, the morning after Major -King’s visit, Mr. Gaston greeted her with more than his usual -cordiality, and for the first time addressed her as “Miss Margaret.” - -The young lady replied to his morning salutation with a composed -civility, and gave no sign of having observed the distinguished -familiarity with which she was treated. She was quite her usual self -during the meal, but she said little to Louis Gaston, and he observed -that she did not voluntarily look at him. By the time that breakfast -was ended she had managed, without awakening the least suspicion on the -part of the others, to convey to Louis Gaston the conviction that she -was set like steel against him. - -It was at the same time depressing and inspiring to the young man to -perceive this. He was sorry to have this charming girl angry with -him, and yet he could well imagine how pleasant a reconciliation with -her would be. He was certainly not a coxcomb, but he was accustomed -to good-humored handling by women, and he had no misgivings as to -his ability to adjust the present little difficulty to his entire -satisfaction. Meantime, there she sat opposite, looking very charming, -with her air of dainty reserve. The impertinent little ignoramus, to -pretend to set _him_ right! He smiled to himself at the absurdity of -the thought. The situation seemed to him extremely piquant. - -He had already settled upon the remark with which he would open the -conversation, when he should presently follow her into the bow-window -as usual, and he was therefore a little disconcerted when Miss -Trevennon passed out of the dining-room by the door that opened into -the hall, and mounted the stairs to her own room, whence she did not -emerge until Louis, after long waiting, had gone off down town. - -Later in the day, when Margaret found herself alone with Mrs. -Gaston, she had some thought of informing the latter of last night’s -occurrences, but upon reflection this appeared so difficult that -she gave it up. It was doubtful if any good purpose could be served -thereby, and besides it would be very hard to describe her own feelings -with sufficient reserve to avoid the rudeness of speaking unwarrantably -to Mrs. Gaston of the brother-in-law who was such a favorite with her. -Apart from all this, though there had been no opportunity for the -positive manifestation of the feeling, it was borne in upon her that -Mrs. Gaston herself would be found ranged on Louis’ side. So she said -nothing about the matter and listened to Cousin Eugenia’s plans for the -day just as usual. - -There was another dinner on hand for this evening, and Mrs. Gaston -expressed her intention of going out to recuperate her energies by -a drive before luncheon, and Margaret presently left her, agreeing -to join her, ready for the expedition, at twelve. In the hall she -met a servant with some letters, one of which proved to be from her -mother. This letter, filled with all manner of little, familiar -domestic details, was read and re-read by Margaret with a degree of -feeling quite inconsistent with the nature of its contents. The quiet -home-pictures presented such a contrast to the annoyances recently -encountered, that for a while she heartily wished herself back at -Bassett. - -There was but one item of especial importance in the letter, and -that was the announcement of the sudden return from Europe of Mrs. -Trevennon’s nephew, Alan Decourcy, an individual who had long reigned -in Margaret’s mind and memory as a veritable Prince Charming, who -possessed to the letter every endowment of nature and advantage of -fortune which the most exacting of maidens could have asked. Margaret -had not seen him since he had come to man’s estate, but, as a boy, he -had spent much of each year at a country home near Bassett, owned by -his mother, and she had always looked upon him as the most fortunate -and gifted of beings. He was an only son, and his sister, who was some -years older than himself, was now married and living in Baltimore. To -this sister Margaret had pledged herself for a visit before returning -to the South. How pleasant it would be to meet Alan there! His mother -was now dead, and after finishing his course at a Northern university -he had gone abroad for a year’s travel, but it was only at the end of -four years that he had now returned. She wondered if he would prove -to be as handsome and charming as memory painted him! His occasional -letters had been very delightful, and led her to believe that all -the bright promises of his youth had been fulfilled. And now he had -actually returned, and she was to see him! Mrs. Trevennon wrote that -she had already sent him her daughter’s address in Washington, saying -that he must run over from Baltimore and see her. She added that her -nephew had said that he would probably linger a while in New York -before joining his sister, and so his movements were rather indefinite. - -The feelings which this announcement of Alan Decourcy’s return awakened -were contradictory. Margaret was naturally very anxious to see this -charming cousin, but she did not want him to come to see her in this -house; she hoped she might never have another visitor here. Alan -Decourcy was sure to be all that was elegant and charming, but since -one person who had come to this house to see her had been treated with -such discourtesy she wished for no more visitors. Already she had begun -to lay plans for the termination of her visit, and she now resolved to -speak to Cousin Eugenia, on the subject of going to Baltimore, as soon -as the opportunity should offer. - -“I wish I had Alan’s New York address,” she said to herself; “I’d write -and tell him I would go to Baltimore, and so prevent his coming here. -What _would_ papa and mamma think if they knew I was staying at a -house where I could not ask my cousin to call upon me, because I had no -assurance that my visitors would not be treated rudely? They would not -believe it. They simply could not understand it. My dear old father! He -would take my letter to the light and read it over with his spectacles -on, to see if there was not some mistake in his understanding of it. -Once convinced, however, I know well enough what his course would be. -He would write me to come away at once.” And Margaret rose to prepare -for her drive with eyes that had grown moist at these recollections of -her far-off home. - -By the time that Cousin Eugenia sent to summon her, however, Miss -Trevennon had recovered her composure, and when, a little later, seated -by her cousin’s side, she was bowling swiftly over the smooth, hard -pavements, the exhilaration of the exercise had roused her spirits to -such buoyancy that small annoyances, past and future, seemed trivial -enough to be ignored. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -Having assisted, humbly and admiringly, at Mrs. Gaston’s elaborate -dinner-toilet that evening, Margaret followed the gracefully cloaked -and hooded figure down the stairs and out to the door-steps, when she -said a gay good-bye to her cousin and General Gaston, and turned and -entered the house. She had been informed that Louis Gaston also had -an engagement, and so she had the not unwelcome prospect of a quiet -evening to herself. There were some things that she wanted leisure to -think out, calmly and deliberately, and as the drawing-room looked very -warm and inviting she turned toward it, and had sunk into her favorite -chair before the fire, when she perceived, for the first time, that the -library doors were thrown open and that Louis Gaston was sitting there -at work. The sight was an irritating one. His very attitude and the set -of his firm, strong shoulders, recalled vividly her discomfiture of -the previous evening, and roused all the quick indignation she had felt -then. She was about to withdraw at once, in the hope that he might not -have perceived her entrance, when he turned suddenly, and, seeing her, -rose and came forward, his face wearing its pleasantest smile, and his -manner at its easiest and friendliest. - -“Well, Cousin Margaret,” he said, “and so they’ve left you behind! -But I can assure you, you needn’t regret it. The party is an old-fogy -affair, which will be long and tedious. There’s some glory to be got -out of it, I dare say, but I’ll wager there isn’t much pleasure.” - -Margaret heard him deliver himself of these affable observations with -intense indignation. “Cousin Margaret” indeed! Did he presume to -suppose for an instant, that he could atone for the indignity he had -offered her, and the positive pain he had caused her, by a few careless -words of flattery and a caressing tone of voice? - -“I shouldn’t have cared to go with them in the least,” she answered -coldly. “I am used to quiet. Cousin Eugenia said you had an engagement.” - -“So I have; but that can be postponed, as also, I suppose, may be -your meditations,” answered Louis, feeling a keener zest in the -accomplishment of this reconciliation with Margaret since he saw it was -likely to cost him some pains. “Suppose now you and I run off to the -theatre. There’s a pretty little play on the boards, and we’ll take our -chances for a seat.” - -“Thank you, I don’t care to go out this evening,” responded Margaret, -in the same voice. - -There was a moment’s silence, which might have lasted longer, but for -some symptoms of flight on the part of Miss Trevennon, which the young -man saw and determined to thwart. - -“I am afraid,” he began, speaking with some hesitation, “that I was so -unfortunate as to offend you in some way last night, when your edifying -visitor was here----” - -“Please don’t refer to that episode, unless you mean to apologize -for what you did,” Margaret interrupted him, with an inflection of -controlled indignation. “Your laughing at him now does not mend -matters.” - -The young man’s whole expression changed. This was really a little too -much. - -“Apologize!” he said quickly, a dark frown gathering. “You are under -some remarkable delusion, Miss Trevennon, if you think I acknowledge -it to be a case for an apology. It was a most presumptuous intrusion, -and as such I was compelled to resent it, on your account as well as my -own.” - -“Don’t let me be considered in the matter, I beg,” said Margaret, with -a little touch of scorn. “I wish no such deed as that to be done in my -name.” - -“May I ask,” said Gaston, in a keen, distinct voice, “whether your -championship of this gentleman is due to an admiration and endorsement -of his manner and conduct, or to the more comprehensive fact of his -being a Southerner? You Southerners are very clannish, I’ve been told.” - -Margaret had always held herself to be superior to sectional -prejudices, but there was something in his manner, as he said this, -that infuriated her. - -“We Southerners,” she answered, feeling a thrill of pride in -identifying herself with the race that, by his looks and tones, he was -so scornfully contemning, “are not only a clannish people, but also a -courteous one, and the very last and least of our number is incapable -of forgetting the sacred law of hospitality to a guest.” - -Undoubtedly Miss Trevennon had forgotten herself, but it was only for -a moment. She had said more than she meant to say, and she checked -herself with an effort, and added hastily: - -“I much prefer not to pursue this subject, Mr. Gaston. We will drop it -just here, if you please.” - -The fact that Mr. Gaston bowed calmly, and quietly returned to his -work, by no means proved that he was in reality either calm or quiet. -It was only by a great effort of self-control that he forced himself to -be silent, for both the words and tones that this young lady had used -were stingingly provoking. But what affected him most was the stunning -presumptuousness of the whole thing. That this ignorant Southern girl, -who had passed most of her life in a little insulated village, should -venture to set him right on a point which affected his bearing as a -man of the world, was infuriating. He mentally assured himself that -his conduct toward the fellow, King, had been exactly what it should -have been, and, moreover, he determined to take occasion to show Miss -Trevennon that he neither regretted nor desired to apologize for it. -He felt eager for an opportunity to do this, and all his accustomed -prejudices and habits of mind grew deeper and stronger. - -For a few moments longer they kept their places in perfect silence, -Margaret in her seat before the fire and Gaston at the writing-table, -when suddenly the door-bell rang. Neither moved nor spoke, and a few -minutes later Thomas announced a gentleman to see Miss Trevennon. - -“Alan Decourcy!” exclaimed Margaret, springing to her feet, in excited -surprise, as the gentleman approached. “Why, Alan, this is unexpected!” - -Mr. Decourcy came nearer, and taking both her hands in his, pressed -them cordially. - -“It would be ungrateful of me not to recognize my cousin Margaret, in -this tall young lady,” he said, looking at her with obvious admiration -in his calm, gray eyes, “and yet it is only by an effort that I can do -so.” - -At this instant Margaret remembered Louis, whom, in the confusion of -this meeting, she had quite forgotten. She turned toward him, naming -the two men to each other, and to her consternation she saw that he -had risen, and was standing erect, with exactly the same repellant -expression and attitude which he had assumed in greeting Major King -the evening before. With the same frigid manner he acknowledged the -present introduction, and after that little icy bow, he seated himself -at his writing and turned his back, as before. - -Mr. Decourcy, meantime, had taken a chair, from which Mr. Gaston’s -attitude was perfectly evident to him, but he showed quite as little -concern thereat as Major King had done. And yet what a different thing -was this form of self-possession! Mr. Decourcy’s low-toned sentences -were uttered with a polished accent that told, as plainly as all the -words in the dictionary could have done, that he was a man of finished -good-breeding. He treated Margaret with an affectionate deference that -she could not fail to find extremely pleasing; inquired for Mr. and -Mrs. Trevennon, and said he was determined to go down to see the old -home and friends before the winter was over; told Margaret he was glad -she had verified his predictions by growing tall and straight; asked if -they still called her Daisy at home, and whether it would be accounted -presumptuous for him to do so; said very little indeed of himself and -his travels, and at the end of about fifteen minutes rose to take leave. - -Margaret quietly replied to all his questions, and when he held out his -hand to say good-bye, she made no motion to detain him, by word or sign. - -“I am going back to Baltimore in a day or two,” he said, “and shall -hardly see you again, but I hope you will allow me to arrange for a -visit from you to my sister, to take place very soon. When she writes -to you on the subject, as she will do at once, do let her find you -willing to co-operate with her.” - -While Margaret was uttering a hearty assent to this plan, Louis Gaston, -who had, of course, heard all that had passed, was rapidly casting -about in his mind as to how he should rescue himself from an odious -position. There was now no more time to deliberate. He must act; and -accordingly he came forward, with a return to his usual manner, which -Margaret had once thought so good, and said frankly: - -“I happened to have an important bit of work on hand, Mr. Decourcy, -which it was necessary for me to finish in haste. I have been obliged, -therefore, to forego the pleasure of making your acquaintance, but I -hope you will give me your address that I may call upon you.” - -“Thank you, I am at the Arlington for a day or two,” responded -Decourcy, with his polished politeness of tone and manner, in which -Margaret felt such a pride at the moment. - -“It is quite early,” Louis went on, “and my brother and sister have -deserted Miss Trevennon for a dinner. Will you not remain and spend the -evening with her?” - -Alan Decourcy possessed to perfection the manner which George Eliot -describes as “that controlled self-consciousness which is the expensive -substitute for simplicity,” and it was apparently with the most perfect -naturalness that he pleaded another engagement and took leave, -with compliments and regards to General and Mrs. Gaston. The price -this young man had paid for this manner was some years of studious -observance of what he considered the best models at home and abroad, -and his efforts had been eminently successful. It imposed upon Margaret -completely, and charming though she saw her cousin to be, she would -have said that his manners were as unstudied as a child’s. - -Louis Gaston, on his part, considered the matter more understandingly. -He recognized in this cousin of Miss Trevennon a polished man of the -world. The type was familiar enough to him, but he knew that this was -an exquisite specimen of it, and the very fineness of Mr. Decourcy’s -breeding made his own recent bearing seem more monstrously at fault. He -felt very anxious to set himself right with Miss Trevennon at once, but -almost before he had time to consider the means of doing this she had -said good-night and gone up stairs. - -He stood where she had left him, abstracted and ill at ease. What a -power this girl had of making him feel uncomfortable; for it was not -Decourcy’s censure and disapprobation that he deprecated half so much -as Margaret’s. Again there came into his breast that new, strange -feeling of self-distrust. He shook it off with a sigh, tired of -self-communing and reflection, and anxious to act. He felt his present -position unendurable. - -Accordingly, he rang for Thomas and sent him to ask Miss Trevennon if -he could speak to her for a few minutes. Thomas carried the message, -and presently returned to say that Miss Trevennon would come down. - -When she entered the room, soon after, she looked so stately, and met -his eyes with such a cold glance, that a less determined man might have -faltered. He was very much in earnest, however, and so he said at once: - -“I ventured to trouble you to return, Miss Trevennon, in order that I -might apologize to you for what I acknowledge to have been an act of -rudeness. I am exceedingly sorry for it, and I ask your pardon.” - -“You have it, of course, Mr. Gaston. An offence acknowledged and -regretted is necessarily forgiven. I want you to tell me explicitly, -however, what act you refer to.” - -“I feel myself to have acted unwarrantably, indeed rudely, in my manner -of receiving your cousin. I was angry at the time, and I forgot myself. -I have done what little I could to atone for it to Mr. Decourcy, but I -felt that I owed you an apology, because in acting thus toward a guest -of yours I was guilty of a rudeness to you.” - -Margaret was silent; but how she burned to speak! - -“Am I forgiven?” said Gaston, after a little pause, for the first time -smiling a little, and speaking in the clear, sweet tones that she had -lately thought the pleasantest in the world. If she thought so still, -she denied it to her own heart. - -“I need hardly say, Mr. Gaston,” she answered, forcing back a sigh, -“that as far as I am concerned, you have quite atoned for your -treatment of my cousin.” - -“Then am I reinstated in your favor, great Queen Margaret, and will you -give me your royal hand upon it?” - -He extended his hand, but Margaret quickly clasped hers with its -fellow, and dropped them in front of her, while she slowly shook her -head. There was none of the bright _naïveté_ so natural to her, in this -action; she looked thoughtful and very grave. - -The young man felt his pulses quicken; he resolved that she should make -friends with him, cost what it might. It had become of the very first -importance to him that he should be reinstated in that place in her -regard which he knew that he had once held, and which he now felt to be -so priceless a treasure. - -“I am still unforgiven, I see,” he said; “but you will at least tell me -what is my offence that I may seek to expiate it.” - -Margaret raised her candid eyes to his and looked at him a moment with -a strange expression; doubt, disappointment and glimmering hope were -mingled in it. - -“Shall I be frank with you?” she said, speaking from a sudden impulse. -“I should like to, if I dared.” - -“I shall be distressed if you are not,” he said, almost eagerly. “I beg -you to say freely what you have in your mind.” - -She did not speak at once, but sank into a chair, with a long-drawn -respiration that might mean either sadness or relief. When Gaston -had brought another chair and placed it close beside her and seated -himself, she looked up and met his gaze. In the eyes of both there was -the eagerness of youth--in the girl’s a hesitating wistfulness, in -the man’s a subdued fire, somewhat strange to them. He was conscious -of being deeply stirred, and if he had spoken first his words would -probably have betrayed this, but it was Margaret who broke the silence, -in tones that were calm and steady, and a little sad. - -“Mr. Gaston,” she said, turning her eyes away from his face and looking -into the fire, “it wouldn’t be worth while, I think, for me to pretend -to feel the same toward you, after what has happened; it would be only -pretence. Twenty-four hours ago I should have said you were the young -man of all my acquaintance whom I felt to be the truest gentleman. I -would not say this to your face now, except that it is quite passed.” - -“I am glad that you have said it--most glad that it was ever so,” he -said, with a hurried ardor; “but it is a great height to fall from. And -have I indeed fallen?” - -“Yes,” replied Margaret, not smiling at all, but speaking very gravely. -“You began to fall the moment Major King came into this room last -night, and you have been falling ever since, as I have gone over it all -in my mind. You reached the bottom when my cousin came in this evening, -and the shock was so great that it caused a slight rebound; but I don’t -suppose that signifies much.” - -If the girl’s eyes had not been fixed upon the fire she would probably -have checked her speech at the sight of the expression which settled -upon her companion’s face the moment Major King’s name was mentioned. -But she did not see it, and was therefore unprepared for the hard, cold -tone in which his next words were uttered. - -“I have felt and acknowledged my fault, where your cousin was -concerned,” he said. “Mr. Decourcy is a gentleman, and nothing but the -fact of my being preoccupied with the resentment I felt at certain -words of yours at the time, would have caused me to act toward him -as I did. This explains, but does not justify my conduct, which I -have acknowledged to be unjustifiable. But in the other case, Miss -Trevennon, I must maintain that I acted rightly.” - -“If that is your feeling about it,” Margaret said, “I think this -conversation had better end here.” - -“Why, Miss Trevennon?” he asked, a little defiantly. “I see no reason -why it should.” - -“Because its object, as I suppose, has been to bring about an -understanding between us; and since you have defined your sentiments, -it is clear to me that we could no more come to understand each other -than if you spoke Sanscrit and I spoke French.” - -“I believe you are mistaken,” he said. “I have a feeling that our -positions are not so widely different as they may appear to be. Don’t -refuse to listen to me, Miss Trevennon; that would be unjust, and you -are not an unjust woman.” - -It was a wonderful proof of the hold she had laid upon him that he -took such trouble to exonerate himself in her eyes, and he felt it so -himself, but he no longer denied the fact that Miss Trevennon’s good -opinion was a matter of vast importance to him. The little impulses of -anger which her severe words now and then called forth, were always -short lived. One glance at the lovely face and figure near him was -generally enough to banish them, and now, as he treated himself to a -long look at the fair countenance, with its sweet downcast eyes and -slightly saddened mouth, the impossibility of quarrelling with this -exquisite creature presented itself so strongly, that he grew suddenly -so friendly and at ease, that he was able to assume a tone that was -pleasant, and almost gay, as he said: - -“Now, Miss Trevennon, honor bright! You know perfectly well that you -don’t like that man one bit better than I do.” - -“I don’t like him at all. I yield that point at once, but I fail to -see how that affects the matter. Children and savages regulate their -manners according to their tastes and fancies, but I had always -supposed that well-bred men and women had a habit of good-breeding that -outside objects could not affect.” - -“A gentleman’s house is his castle, Miss Trevennon,” said Gaston, with -a return to his former tone and manner; “and it is one of the plainest -and most sacred of his duties to see that the ladies of his household -are protected from all improper contact. In my brother’s absence I -stood in the position of the gentleman of the house, and I did right to -adopt a line of conduct which would save you from a like intrusion in -future. I owed it to you to do so.” - -“I beg your pardon,” said Margaret, waving her hand with a pretty -little motion of scornful rejection. “You allowed your consideration -for me to constrain you too far. I have led a free, unrestricted life, -and am accustomed to contact with those who come and go. No man has a -finer feeling as to what is fitting for the ladies of his family than -my father, but though I should live to reach old age, I shall never see -him pay so great a price for my immunity from doubtful association as -an act of rudeness to any one whomsoever.” - -“I’ll tell you what it is, Miss Trevennon,” said Gaston, speaking -rather warmly, “if you lived in Washington, you would see things -differently. There’s no end to the pushing impertinence of the people -who hang about a city--this one especially, and a gentleman does not -like to have his friends in danger of meeting these obnoxious creatures -at his house. It looks very queer, and people think so, too.” - -“Is a gentleman’s position, then, so easily impeached? Now I should -have thought that, with your name and prestige, you might weather a -good many queer appearances. An annoyance of this sort would not be -likely to happen often. That it is an annoyance, I do not deny; but I -think there must be a better way of preventing such things than the one -you adopted. And oh, Mr. Gaston, while we are on this subject, I wonder -how you can ignore one point, the agony that you caused me!” - -“That _I_ caused you, Miss Trevennon? It is hard, indeed, to lay at my -door the discomfiture you endured last evening.” - -“I think it was the most wretched evening I ever passed,” said -Margaret, “and it was only your conduct that made it so.” - -“My conduct? Now you _are_ unjust!” - -“Not at all,” said Margaret. “I am not so wholly uninured to the -necessity of sometimes hearing annoyances, as to be made miserable by -having to talk for several hours with a man I do not like. You will -never believe it, of course, but I do not think Major King is a man -who lacks good feeling, the essence and soul of politeness. He belongs -to a type that I know very well. He is an ignorant man and a very -self-opinionated one, and he has been so long in need of association -with his superiors that he has begun to think that he has none. He -does not know the world, and is therefore unaware of the fact, that -a man who holds the position of a gentleman may be guilty of many -lapses without losing that position. I spoke just now of its being -rather a light tenure, but, in some ways, it is very strong, it seems. -I have said I do not like Major King, but I believe it is a mistake -to call him vulgar. He is foolish and conceited, because he has had -very slender opportunities to learn better. But oh, Mr. Gaston, how -different with you! It is impossible not to draw the contrast. You know -the world. You have studied and travelled. You are clever, cultivated -and accomplished, and to what end? It has all resulted in an act which -yesterday I would have wagered my right hand you were incapable of.” - -She spoke with real feeling in her voice, and Gaston caught this -inflection, and the sound of it quickened his blood. His ideas and -emotions were strangely confused. He felt that he ought to be angry and -resentful, but he was conscious only of being contrite. - -“I have said too much. I have spoken far too freely,” said Margaret, -breaking in upon his reflections. “I meant to be quite silent, but when -you urged me to speak I forgot myself. I am sorry.” - -“Don’t be,” the young man answered gently; “the fact that these are -your opinions entitles them at least to my respect. But there is one -thing I must mention before we drop this subject. I cannot be satisfied -to allow you to retain the idea that I was accountable for the -discomfiture you endured yesterday evening. You must know that I would -joyfully shield you from all vexations and annoyances.” - -“No,” said Margaret gently, shaking her head; “it was you, and not -Major King, who made those hours so wretched to me. You made no effort -to conceal the fact that you were outraged and indignant, and what -could be clearer than that I had been the means of bringing this deeply -resented annoyance upon you? If you had thought of me, you must have -seen that.” - -“I thought of you continually. It was chiefly upon your account that I -resented the intrusion. It matters little to a man whom he happens to -rub against, but it pains me deeply that a lady--that _you_ should not -be screened from such intercourse.” - -In spite of herself, Margaret was touched by this. A hundred times, -since she had known him, she had seen Louis Gaston give evidence of an -exquisite feeling of deference to women, and she could readily believe -that he had been influenced on this occasion partly by consideration -for herself; and while she resented the means used she did justice to -the motive. - -“It is much better that we have talked of this,” she said presently. “I -do thank you for having that feeling about me. You could not know it -was not needed. I will try to forget it all.” - -“But you will not succeed,” he said; “your tone convinces me of that. I -wish we understood each other better, Miss Trevennon, and I do not yet -give up the hope that in time we may.” - -He drew out his watch and looked at it, saying in tones that showed him -to be in a serious mood: - -“I have an appointment to see a man on business, and I must go and keep -it. I shall probably be late coming in, and shall hardly see you again, -so I’ll say good-night.” - -As he spoke, he turned and went into the hall, and a moment later -Margaret heard the front door close behind him. - -As she slowly mounted the stairs to her room, she remembered that -he had not asked her again to shake hands with him, in token of a -re-establishment of the old relationship between them, and, on the -whole, she did not regret it. It was as well that he should know that -he was not restored to his former place in her regard. Her faith in him -had been terribly shaken, and it seemed impossible he could ever be to -her again the man she had once thought him. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -When Mrs. Gaston and Miss Trevennon were driving along the avenue next -morning, the former said abruptly, “Why didn’t you tell me of your -cousin’s visit?” - -“Oh, I didn’t see you when you came in, you know,” answered Margaret -evasively. “Who told you?” - -“Louis: and I gathered from certain indications that there had been -something unpleasant in this meeting. I didn’t ask him to explain it to -me, and I don’t ask you. I hate explanations. I have always foreseen -that a certain amount of clashing was inevitable between you and Louis. -You are both very well in your ways, but your ways are very different -and not very reconcilable. I am very sorry anything of the sort -happened; but I don’t let it prey upon my mind, and I hope you will not -either.” - -“Oh no,” said Margaret; “it was nothing very important. Mr. Gaston was -rude to Alan when he first came in, but he atoned for it as far as he -could afterward.” - -At this moment a handsome drag containing two gentlemen and a liveried -servant was seen approaching, and, as it came up to them, one of the -gentlemen recognized Margaret with a bow and a smile. - -“There’s Alan now!” said Margaret. “I wonder who the gentleman is, who -is driving.” - -“It’s young Lord Waring,” said Mrs. Gaston, with animation. “He is -attached to the British Legation--the minister’s nephew, I believe. -And so that was Alan Decourcy! What a charming young man! I wonder how -Louis could be rude to a man like that.” - -It was Margaret’s usual habit to pass over such remarks as this from -Cousin Eugenia, as she was convinced of the fruitlessness of argument -in her case; but this speech touched her on such a sore point that she -could not help saying, in rather keen tones: - -“A man who could be rude to any one whomsoever, must be somewhat -difficult to count upon, I should think. He must be often puzzled to -decide whom to treat civilly and whom to snub.” - -“Oh, there you go, with your high-flown Southern notions,” retorted -Mrs. Gaston, with imperturbable good-humor. “You’re your father’s own -child! But we must have this elegant young man to dinner. Do you happen -to know if he is engaged for this evening?” - -“No,” said Margaret, “I didn’t hear him say.” - -“He will probably call during the day.” - -“No, he will not,” said Margaret, decidedly. “He told me he should not -see me again before going to Baltimore. But he is to make arrangements -for me to go over for a little visit soon, and I shall see him then.” - -“Nonsense! He’s to come and see you at my house, and he’s to make -friends with us all. Louis has been in the wrong, and he shall be made -to see it. Leave that to me. I shall write young Decourcy a note as -soon as I get home; and you shall write too, and endorse my invitation.” - -Margaret felt very anxious that her cousin should come and dine at the -Gastons’, but she seriously doubted his willingness to do so. Despite -his perfect courtesy, there had been something in his manner toward -Louis Gaston that made it clear that he did not desire to improve the -latter’s acquaintance, and she wanted him to see that in the interview -he had had with Gaston he had seen Louis at his worst, and to realize -that he had a better side. And, on the other hand, she wanted the -Gastons to see Alan Decourcy as a specimen of a Southern gentleman, who -not only possessed, by inheritance, all the instincts and traditions -that she clung to and respected, but who, in addition to these, had had -sufficient contact with the world to get rid of that colossal belief in -himself and his own methods and manners, as the only commendable ones, -which she felt to be one of the chief failings of her countrymen. She -had been too long accustomed to the arrogant assumption that a Southern -man had better take the wrong way in any issue than learn the right -way from a Yankee, not to rejoice in the prospect of presenting to her -friends a young Southerner who was really enlightened, and who, if he -loved his own land best, did so because he had compared it with others, -and not because he was ignorant of everything beyond it. - -But when Mrs. Gaston had despatched her note, inviting Mr. Decourcy -to dine with them that evening at six, and there came a response -regretting that a previous engagement for dinner prevented his -accepting her invitation, Mrs. Gaston was quite provoked about it, and -when they were at dinner she confided her disappointment to her husband -and his brother. - -“I called on him at the Arlington, this morning,” said Louis, “but he -was out.” - -“Yes, we met him,” said Mrs. Gaston. “He was driving with Lord Waring.” - -Margaret felt a little throb of gratification, as her cousin made this -announcement, of which she was deeply ashamed the next instant. “I -am getting the most horrid ideas into my head,” she said to herself; -“what a little snob I should have felt myself two months ago, to be -filled with vulgar elation at the thought of Alan Decourcy being seen -driving with a lord! It’s perfectly humiliating!” But all the same, the -satisfaction remained. - -“I wonder where he is going to dine,” Mrs. Gaston went on, presently. -“He will call, of course, in acknowledgment of my invitation, and when -he does, Margaret, you must ask him.” - -The next morning he did call, and Mrs. Gaston and Margaret were at home -to receive him. Margaret asked him, in the course of their talk, where -he had dined the day before, and convicted herself a second time of -snobbishness by the pleasure she felt in hearing him answer: - -“At the British Legation. The minister happens to be an old -acquaintance, and Waring and I were great chums at one time. -By-the-way, he was, for some reason, rather struck with you, Daisy. He -was with me when I met you driving yesterday, you remember. I told him -you were a pet cousin of mine, and it may have been on that account -that he asked me to bring him to call upon you.” - -“I hope you will do so,” Mrs. Gaston said. “We should be glad to see -him.” - -There was no under-bred eagerness in her tones as she said it, but -Margaret suspected that there might be a little in her heart, and she -was not sorry when Decourcy answered, merely: - -“Thank you; you’re very kind,” and then changed the subject by saying: - -“I picked up a little present for you, when I was in Naples, Margaret. -I unpacked it this morning and will send it to you.” - -A few minutes after this he took leave, having made on both ladies an -extremely good impression, which Mrs. Gaston owned to, in voluble -phrases, and which Margaret concealed under a very calm exterior. - -A day or two later Alan called again, and brought with him Lord Waring, -who proved to be a little dull. He was shy and constrained in manner -and hampered by a certain gawkiness which Decourcy’s exquisite ease of -breeding made the more apparent. In spite of all this, however, there -was something rather distinguished in the young foreigner, a sincerity -and simplicity that stamped him as a man of worth, and a commanding -self-security that was as far removed from self-sufficiency as possible. - -It was arranged between Miss Trevennon and her cousin that they were -to go to Baltimore in a few days, and it was not until he rose to take -leave that he put into her hands a box, which he told her contained the -little present he had spoken of. - -As soon as the two gentlemen had gone, Margaret tore open the parcel -with the eagerness of a girl to whom presents are somewhat rare, and -discovered, in a beautiful little mosaic box, an antique silver -chatelaine of the most rare and exquisite workmanship. There was a -small watch, and other richly chased pendents, and the whole thing was -pretty enough to delight any girl alive, even in the absence of a just -appreciation of its value. Cousin Eugenia, however, being thoroughly -initiated in all such matters, was handling and examining it with a -depth of appreciation that almost brought tears to her eyes. - -“Why, Margaret, it is a superb present,” she exclaimed; “a veritable -antique, such as not one woman in a thousand is lucky enough to -possess. You _must_ let me show it to Mrs. Norman; she is continually -flaunting hers in peoples’ faces, and it doesn’t compare with this. I -should say it is quite modern beside this. Just look at these clasps. -The watch is not so antique, but the chains and clasps are wonderful.” - -Margaret, as she looked on and listened, could scarcely conceal the -amusement she felt. She had often before this had reason to observe -the almost solemn emotion with which Cousin Eugenia was wont to regard -certain articles of great luxuriousness or magnificence. She had seen -her stirred to the soul by a plush _portière_, and almost tearful at -the mere recollection of a French costume. Appreciation was one thing, -but this was another. It transcended mere appreciation, and seemed, in -some way, to be tinctured with the heroic. - -“What an æsthete you would have made, Cousin Eugenia, if only the -proper influences had been brought to bear!” said Margaret, laughing. -“I can fancy you speaking, in awed and hushed accents, of a strange -and mysterious color, or a significant and subtle bit of drapery. -You consider yourself unemotional, but you have depths which may be -stirred. It takes a silver chatelaine of a rare order to compass it, -however, or something as imposing. I have to thank you for enlightening -me as to the value of Alan’s gift. If I tell him you wept upon it, it -may compensate in some measure for my Philistinism.” - -“He must have taken great care in the selection of this present for -you,” Mrs. Gaston said. “He admires you very much, Margaret. I begin to -wonder what it means.” - -Margaret laughed gayly. - -“It means nothing whatever,” she said; “for goodness’ sake, don’t get -up any absurd notion about Alan Decourcy and me. It’s a brand-new idea.” - -“To you it may be--not to him. He has a way of watching you that -means something. A careful, scrutinizing interest in all you do is -observable, and often it changes into those quiet signs of approbation, -which mean so much in a man like that. I shall be prepared for a prompt -surrender, so don’t be afraid of startling me if you have anything -to communicate from Baltimore. He told me the other day, that he had -reached an eminently marriageable age, and was dreadfully afraid of -passing beyond it. He also said that he much preferred to marry one of -his own countrywomen; and I believe that is what brings him home.” - -Margaret gave an amused attention to her cousin’s speculations, after -which they fell to talking of the proposed visit to Baltimore, which -Cousin Eugenia acquiesced in only on condition that it should be of but -one week’s duration, and that Margaret should return to Washington for -Christmas. This she agreed to do, resolving, if she found it desirable, -to arrange for another visit before returning to the South. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -Margaret had been, from the first, eager to hear Decourcy’s criticism -of the Gastons, and when she found herself seated by her cousin’s -side, in the train on the way to Baltimore, with the prospect of an -hour’s _tête-à-tête_ before her, she felt sure he would volunteer his -impressions. She only hoped that he would remember that, in spite of -all, she really liked them, and that he would refrain from speaking -too resentfully on the subject. She was full of unuttered criticism -herself, but a feeling of loyalty to the friends who had shown her -so much kindness deterred her from introducing the topic. It soon -appeared, however, that Mr. Decourcy had no intention of speaking of -it at all. Of course they talked about the Gastons, but it was only in -incidental allusions, and, after all, it was Margaret who invited his -criticism by saying directly: - -“What do you think of them, Alan?” - -“Oh, pretty well,” he answered lightly. “The General is a little heavy, -but his wife has vivacity enough to counterbalance him, and I should -say the brother is a fine fellow.” - -Margaret’s eyes opened wide with astonishment. Forgetting all her good -resolutions, now that she and her cousin had so decidedly shifted -positions, she said excitedly: - -“Why, Alan, I supposed you thought him simply intolerable.” - -Her cousin, in his turn, looked surprised. - -“You know him better than I,” he said, “and it may be that that is -his real character; but I met him at the club the other night and -was rather struck with him. It may be all surface, however. He is a -good-looking fellow--and has very good manners.” - -“Good manners! Oh, Alan! His conduct, the first time you met him, was -really terrible; it filled me with shame for him.” - -“Oh yes; I remember that very well,” said Decourcy, quietly; “but I -rather fancied, from certain signs, that that was mostly due to his -being at odds with you, in some way. Yes,” he went on, looking faintly -amused at the reminiscence, “he evidently intended to annihilate me, -but when he saw that he had better not think of it, I must say he -gave up with a good grace, and since then he has done everything in -his power to manifest an intention to be civil. In this condition of -affairs, I find him a very likeable, intelligent fellow.” - -“And you bear him no grudge for the manner in which he treated you?” - -“My dear Daisy! what’s the use of bearing grudges? Life is much too -short. And besides, a great many people are like that.” - -“What sort of people? Vulgar people and ignorant people, I suppose!” - -“Well, not necessarily. I have often seen such conduct from people whom -I could not, on the whole, call either ignorant or vulgar. It seems to -be the instinct with some men to consider every stranger a blackguard, -until he has proved himself not to be one.” - -“It is abominable,” said Margaret; “perfectly barbarous! Such people -have no right to claim to be civilized.” - -“In point of fact, it is only a very small class, my dear, who can -justly lay claim to that estate. I understand your feeling. How it -carries me back! I used to feel much as you do, before I went out into -the world.” - -“I should think a knowledge of the world would make one more fastidious -instead of less so,” said Margaret, sturdily. - -“I think you are wrong in that. One learns to take things as they come, -and loses the notion of having all things exactly to one’s taste.” - -“But surely such flagrant impoliteness as Mr. Gaston’s would be -condemned anywhere,” said Margaret. “You should have seen his treatment -of Major King.” - -She then proceeded to give a spirited account of that episode, to her -cousin’s manifest interest and amusement. - -“And how your hot Southern blood did tingle!” he commented, as she -ended her recital. “You felt as if a crime had been committed in your -sight, which it was your sacred duty to avenge--did you not? I had -such feelings once myself, and perhaps, in both our cases, they may be -traced to the same cause. Constant observation of such a model as your -father presents would put most of the world at a disadvantage. There -is a fineness of grain in him that one meets with but rarely anywhere. -With him the feeling is that every man must be regarded and treated as -a gentleman, until he has proved himself not to be one. It is a better -way. But I think, after all, Margaret, that absolute good-breeding is a -thing we must look for in individuals, and not in classes. It certainly -does not exist in any class with which I have been thrown, and I cannot -quite see how it could, as long as our social system of standards and -rewards remains what it is. Do you remember a clever squib in _Punch, -àpropos_ of all this?” - -Margaret shook her head. - -“I very rarely see _Punch_,” she said. - -“It represents a conversation on the deck of an ocean steamer, -between a beautiful American girl, returning from Europe, and several -Englishmen, who are grouped about her. One of these is saying: ‘Now, -Miss ----, do tell us. You’ve travelled a great deal, and seen the -world, where have you met with the most elegant, refined, and high-bred -men and women?’ ‘Among your British aristocracy,’ replies the young -lady, frankly. Her response is greeted with a flutter of delight by -the group, and their spokesman puts another question: ‘Now tell us, -on the other hand,’ he says, ‘where you have met with the greatest -ill-breeding and vulgarity.’ The answer comes as promptly as before: -‘Among your British aristocracy.’ That,” proceeded Decourcy, after -waiting for Margaret’s ready tribute of appreciation, “according to -my own small experience, states the case exactly, and, with certain -limitations, the same thing is true of the aristocracy of every -country. A low-born ignoramus could never be the finished snob that a -man of some enlightenment may be; he wouldn’t know how. But confess, -Margaret,--hot little rebel as you are!--have you never encountered the -elements of snobbishness among your own people?” - -“Yes; but I always supposed it came from ignorance and was greatly -due to the fact that, since the war, our people have had so little -opportunity of seeing the world, and have become insulated and -prejudiced in consequence.” - -“There is something in that; but it was always so, I fancy, more -or less. We are by nature and habit a self-opinionated race, with -certain honorable exceptions, of course. But this I will say--by way -of a little private swagger between ourselves--that I think we are a -courteous people, indeed the most courteous I have known, with more -inherent good-feeling for others. That ought to comfort you.” - -“Yes,” said Margaret, rather wistfully; “but there are so many other -things. Our people are so indolent, it seems to me--at least since the -war.” - -“You always make me laugh, Daisy, when you introduce that little -phrase, ‘since the war.’ You seem to find in it a satisfactory excuse -for all the delinquencies of your beloved people. But the South, my -sweet cousin, has never been a Utopia, any more than other lands. Wheat -and tares must grow together everywhere.” - -“I am glad you call them my beloved people,” said Margaret, after a -little silence. “At home they do not think me very patriotic.” - -“Whom do you mean by ‘they’?” - -“I was thinking of Charley Somers----” - -“Oh, by-the-way, I meant to ask about that pretty young fellow,” said -Decourcy. “I used to make him very angry by telling him he ought to -induce Bassett to take a newspaper, and suggesting that the name of the -town should be changed to Cosmopolis. I am afraid Charley never loved -me. I shudder still at the remembrance of the scowls he would cast -upon me whenever I went near you. How is he?” - -“Very well,” said Margaret; “not changed at all.” - -“He hasn’t followed my advice about the paper, then? How about his -voice? It bid fair to be superb. I hope it has developed well.” - -“I don’t think it has developed at all,” said Margaret. “Certainly it -has had no training worthy the name. It is a shame to see him throwing -that magnificent gift away. I have thought of it so much, in hearing -Mr. Gaston sing. He has no voice at all, compared to Charley’s, but -he has spent such patient labor on its cultivation that his method is -exquisite, and his singing would charm any one. Isn’t it a fine thing -to think how he worked over it, while all the time he was studying hard -at his profession too.” - -“So Gaston is lucky enough to have won your approbation, in one -quarter, at least, though he does come under your ban in another,” -said Decourcy. “You are exacting, Margaret, and severe in your ideals: -I foresee that I shall be afraid of you. It would be interesting to -make the acquaintance of the lucky man who is destined to command your -entire approval, and win your fair hand.” - -Margaret laughed brightly: - -“Cousin Eugenia says I shall never marry,” she answered; “she says -I expect as much as if I were an heiress, and a beauty, and an -intellectual prodigy, all in one. But I tell her my comfort is that -the sort of man I should care for invariably falls in love with his -inferior.” - -At this point the train glided into the station, and the conversation -between the cousins came to an end. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -Under the stimulating pressure of recent experiences Margaret had taken -up her music again, with great ardor and determination. Mr. Gaston had -encouraged her to believe that she might yet make a good performer, -and had managed to instil into her some of his own spirit of thinking -it worth while to achieve the best attainable, even though great -proficiency might be out of reach. There was so little time during -the day when she could count upon remaining in undisturbed possession -of the piano that, for some time before leaving Washington, she had -been in the habit of rising earlier and practising for an hour before -breakfast, and she was resolved that her visit to Baltimore should -not interfere with this routine. Indeed, she would have felt its -interruption to be a serious moral retrogression, and so, with Mrs. -Guion’s sanction, she kept up her morning labors, and when the family -met at breakfast every day, she had already accomplished her allotted -period of practising. Alan used to laugh at her about it, and tell -her she was becoming Yankeeized. He was apt to be late for breakfast -himself, and Mrs. Guion took a great deal of trouble in having things -kept hot for him, and would arrange little delicacies for him, much as -if he had been an invalid lady, as Margaret more than once remarked -with a certain degree of impatience. It quite irritated her to see -how his sister pampered and indulged him and how carelessly, and as a -matter of course, he accepted it all. - -The Guions had only recently come to Baltimore from the South. Their -old home had been very near to Margaret’s, and she had consequently -seen much more of Mrs. Guion, of late years, than of Alan. The -children, of whom there were three, ranging from two to seven years -of age, were cherished acquaintances of Margaret’s, and hailed her -arrival with a hearty enthusiasm, that she responded to with much -cordiality. Ethel, the eldest, had been taught by her mother, long ago, -to call Miss Trevennon “Auntie Margaret,” and Amy and Decourcy had, of -course, adopted the title. They were charming children, rather delicate -in health, and watched and guarded with such care by their anxious -mother, that they had the air of frail exotics. Mr. Guion had died when -Decourcy was a baby, and it was because Alan had decided to settle in -Baltimore for the practise of his profession, the law, that Mrs. Guion -had moved her little family there. She was enthusiastically attached to -her only brother, and never wearied of discoursing upon his perfections -and displaying the numberless useful and ornamental presents that he -lavished upon her children and herself. - -“Wasn’t it good of Alan to insist upon our coming to Baltimore, that -he might make his home with us?” said Mrs. Guion, talking to her -young cousin, the day after the latter’s arrival. “So many young men -would have thought it a nuisance to be hampered by a woman and three -children; but he insisted on our coming.” - -“I can hardly see how he could regard you in the light of a nuisance,” -said Margaret, smiling; “your chief object in life seems to be to humor -his whims and caprices. He could certainly not secure such comfort as -you administer to him, in any bachelor-quarters on earth.” - -This view of the case had never occurred to Mrs. Guion, and she -rejected it almost indignantly, and argued long to convince her cousin -that she was, in all respects, the favored one; but without much -success. - -It was by a mere accident that Margaret discovered, a day or two after -her arrival, that Alan’s sleeping-apartment, situated just above the -front drawing-room, had been exchanged for one on the other side of the -hall. In an instant it flashed upon her that her morning performance on -the piano had been the cause of it. To be quite certain, however, she -went to Mrs. Guion and asked her directly if it was not so. - -“How did you find it out?” said Mrs. Guion; “you were not to know -anything about it. The other room is quite as convenient for Alan. He -says he likes it just as well, and he wouldn’t for the world have you -know that he moved on that account. But, you know, he never could bear -noise. Even the children understand that they must be quiet when he is -here.” - -“Is he an invalid, in any way?” asked Margaret. - -“Oh, dear no! but he always had that objection to noise, and I think he -is more set in his ways now than ever. I tell him he ought to marry.” - -“If he values his personal ease so much, it might be a mistake to -imperil it by matrimony,” said Margaret, with a touch of contempt in -her voice not discernible to her unsuspecting cousin. - -“Affluence and idleness have made him luxurious,” said Margaret to -herself, reflectively, when Mrs. Guion had left her alone. “I suppose -those two things are apt to go together. And yet Cousin Eugenia says -Mr. Gaston has always been well off, and certainly the veriest pauper -could not work harder! And still----” - -The sentence ended in a little sigh. There was no denying the fact that -Louis Gaston’s descent from the pedestal upon which she had mentally -placed him, had been a great blow. - -Miss Trevennon’s time passed very agreeably in Baltimore. Mrs. Guion, -as yet, had only a small circle of friends, but most of these called -upon her cousin, and several invitations resulted from these visits. -As to Alan, the number of invitations he received was quite amusing. -He had been twice to the club, and had delivered only one or two of -his various letters, and made only one or two visits, when the cards -of invitation began to pour in. He happened to have a few desirable -acquaintances in Baltimore, his appearance was distinguished, and -he was known to be rich, and these three facts, taken together, -sufficiently account for the degree of popularity of which he found -himself possessed. - -One thing that rather surprised Margaret was the readiness with which -her cousin would throw aside other engagements in order to drive her -out, or take her to the theatre, or contribute, in any way, to her -enjoyment. He even stayed at home one whole rainy evening, when Mrs. -Guion was engaged up-stairs with one of the children, who was unwell, -in order, as he distinctly avowed, to have a long talk with her. - -When Miss Trevennon and Mr. Decourcy found themselves alone in the -drawing-room, the latter threw himself, at full length, upon a low -lounge, drawn up before the fire, and, fixing his eyes enjoyingly -on Margaret, as she sat opposite, he drew a long breath of restful -satisfaction, saying: - -“Now this is real enjoyment. You don’t know it, perhaps, but it is -just what I have longed for. Amy has really done this room charmingly, -and has contrived to get precisely the atmosphere I like in it. The -confusion of sweet and pungent odors from those plants yonder is just -faint enough to be agreeable; and, far above all, my fair cousin, with -her silken draperies and beautiful pose, puts a climax to my happiness. -You have a talent for attitude, my Marguerite--do you know it? You -always place yourself to advantage. I don’t know whether it is nature -or art, but it is equally admirable, in either case.” - -Margaret, who sat in a deep chair with her arms laid along its padded -sides, and her hands lightly clasping the rounded ends, her long silk -gown falling away to the left, while her figure was slightly turned -toward her cousin at her right, fixed her eyes upon the points of her -little slippers, crossed before her, and remained profoundly still. - -For a moment the young man looked at her in silence, and then he said: - -“Why are you so quiet, dear Daisy?” - -“I am unwilling to alter the pose that has won your approbation,” she -said demurely. “Don’t you think if I retained it long enough I might -‘be struck so,’ as the man in _Patience_ says?” - -“I should be inclined to discourage that idea,” said Alan, “as I was -about to ask you to draw your seat a little nearer, and transfer your -hands from the chair’s arms to my head. You know I always liked you to -run your long fingers through and through my hair. Have you forgotten -how you used to do it? I can assure you I have not.” - -As Margaret made no answer, he went on: - -“You were quite a child when you used first to do it--a tall little -maid, even then, with such imperious ways! But you were always willing -to do anything for your big boy cousin, and he has never forgotten you. -All the time he was at college, and afterward, when he went abroad and -travelled about in many strange and distant places, he carried with him -always the image of that little maid, and when, at last, he turned -homeward, one of his pleasantest visions was that of meeting her again.” - -Margaret had changed her position and turned more directly toward him; -she was looking straight into his eyes, with her direct and candid -gaze, which his own met rather dreamily. She did not speak in answer to -these fond assurances of his, but as she listened she smiled. - -“And are you glad to hear that I have always had this _tendre_ for my -sweet cousin, which I somehow can’t get over, even yet?” - -“Oh yes,” said Margaret, gently, “very glad,” and she looked at him -with a deep and searching gaze, which he could not quite understand. - -“Come nearer, dear,” he said, “and take your old place at my head, and -try to twist my short locks into curls, as you used to do. You will -discover a secret known only to myself and the discreet fraternity -of barbers. Come and see!” and he extended a white hand, somewhat -languidly, to draw her toward him. - -“I think not,” said Margaret, drawing herself upright, into an attitude -of buoyant self-possession. “You and the barbers may keep your secret, -for the present. I won’t intrude.” - -“Ah, but I want you. Come!” he said urgently, still holding out the -delicate hand, on which a diamond sparkled. - -But Margaret shook her head. - -“Consider,” she said, with a little smile; “hadn’t I better stay where -I am and pose for you, ‘talking platitudes in stained-glass attitudes,’ -than put myself there, out of sight, encroaching upon the barbers’ -privileges in more ways than one? As there is only one of me, I think -you had better let me stay where I am. There ought to be five or -six--one at your Sereneness’ head, and another at your feet. Two with -jingling anklets and bangles, to dance in that space over yonder, and -two just back of them, to discourse sweet music on their ’citherns and -citoles’!” - -Decourcy smiled at her banter, but he fancied he discerned in her voice -a faint ring of earnestness, tinctured with scorn, that disconcerted -him. - -“What is the use of six,” he said, “when I have the sweet ministrations -of all, merged into one?--the little maid of long ago! Her comforting -offices are an old experience, and, without having seen her dance, I’m -willing to pit her against any pair of houris in the Orient; and as to -music, I prefer the piano to citherns and citoles.” - -“Especially in the early morning hours,” said Margaret, slyly, “when -your Sereneness is enjoying your nap.” - -“Who told you anything about that?” he said, starting, and turning -toward her abruptly. - -“I guessed the truth and asked Amy, and she had to own it.” - -“I don’t hear you in the least, where I am now. I hope you have not -given up your practising on my account. I am afraid you have!” - -“On the contrary,” answered Margaret, “my effort is to make more noise, -and I constantly use the loud pedal. If my instrument had been as -movable as your apartment, I should have followed you across the hall.” - -“Why do you talk to me like this, Daisy?” - -“Because I think you ought to come down in time for breakfast, and not -give Amy the trouble of having things prepared afresh for you.” - -“Amy likes it,” he said, smiling. - -“It is very fortunate, if she does,” said Margaret; “but I fancy she -would do it all the same, whether she liked it or not. Amy never thinks -of herself.” - -At this moment, Mrs. Guion entered, having at last soothed her little -patient to sleep. Her first act was to bring a light screen and put it -before her brother’s face, to shield it from the fire. - -“Amy, why will you?” said Margaret. “You spoil Alan frightfully. He’s -badly in need of discipline.” - -“I wish you would take me in hand,” he said, looking at her from behind -the screen with an eager expression, that disconcerted her. - -Mrs. Guion’s entrance introduced new topics, and the _tête-à-tête_ -between the cousins was not renewed. - -The next morning being rainy, Margaret betook herself, after breakfast, -to the little up-stairs apartment which was the children’s general -play-room, and as the three little creatures gathered around her, she -drew Amy to her side and asked her to tell her what she thought of -Baltimore on serious consideration. - -“I don’t like it one bit, Auntie Mard’ret,” said Amy. “I think it’s a -nasty, hateful, dirty place.” - -“Why, Amy!” said Margaret, reproachfully, “I am shocked at your using -such words. Where did a sweet little girl like you ever hear such bad -words?” - -“Oh, Auntie Mard’ret, I know a dreat deal worse words than that,” said -Amy, with her eyes opened very wide. “Why, if I was to tell you the -words I’m thinkin’ of, why you’d jump up and wun out of the woom.” - -“Amy, I must insist upon your telling me,” said Margaret, feeling in -duty bound to restrain her amusement, and administer the rebuke. “What -words do you mean?” - -“Oh, Auntie Mard’ret,” said Amy, solemnly, “they’s jes’ is bad is they -kin be--_awful_ words! I couldn’t never tell you.” - -Margaret insisted that she must be told, and after much reluctance on -Amy’s part, and a demanded banishment of Ethel and Dee to the other end -of the room, she put her arms around her cousin’s neck, and whispered -in awe-struck, mysterious tones: - -“I was thinkin’ of _devil_ and _beast_.” - -Margaret caught the little creature in her arms and kissed her -repeatedly, in the midst of such a merry outburst of laughter as made -reproof impossible. - -Amy, who seemed greatly relieved to have rid her conscience of this -burden, without any penance in consequence, ran off to play with the -other children, and Margaret had just cut the leaves of a new magazine -she had brought up with her and begun to look over the illustrations, -when she became aware of a commotion among the children at the other -end of the room and a confusion of excited voices. Presently little -Decourcy came running toward her in much perturbation, and said, with a -rising sob: - -“Auntie Mard’rit, is I a bullabulloo? Amy says I’se a bullabulloo. Now, -is I?” - -“No, Dee,” said Margaret, soothingly, “you are no such thing. Tell Amy -I say you are not.” - -Dee ran back to the closet, on the floor of which Amy was seated -dressing her doll, and Margaret heard him say, triumphantly: - -“Auntie Mard’rit says I’se not no bullabulloo.” - -Amy, taking a pin out of her mouth to fasten the insufficient scrap -of ribbon which she had been straining around her daughter’s clumsy -waist, looked up into his face with great, serious eyes, and said -mysteriously: - -“Yes, Dee, you _are_ a bullabulloo. Auntie Mard’rit don’t know it, and -you don’t know it; _but you are_.” - -This idea was so hopelessly dreadful that poor little Dee could control -himself no longer. He dropped his apronful of blocks upon the floor, -and burst into a howl of despair. - -Margaret flew to the rescue, and, lifting him in her arms, carried -him off to the window, muttering soothing denials of his remotest -connection with bullabulloos. When he was in some slight measure -comforted, Margaret called Amy to her and rebuked her sternly for -teasing her little brother. What was her amazement to see Amy, as soon -as she had finished, look up at her with the same serious gaze, and -say, gravely: - -“Auntie Mard’rit, he _is_ a bullabulloo. You don’t know it, and Dee -don’t know it; but _he is_.” - -At this poor Dee began to howl again, refusing to be comforted, until -it occurred to Margaret to suggest that if he was a bullabulloo Amy -must be one, too, as she was his sister. This idea, once mastered, -proved consoling, and Dee stopped crying. Margaret, to try to banish -the remembrance of his trouble, turned him around to the window and -called his attention to the children next door, who were running about -the back yard in the rain and apparently enjoying it immensely. Ethel -and Amy had joined them at the window, the latter standing on tip-toe -to look. - -“That’s Jack and Cora,” she said, still grasping her doll with one -arm, while she held on to the window-ledge with the other. “Oh, Auntie -Mard’rit, they’re such awful bad children. They don’t mind their mamma -nor nuthin’. You jes’ ought to see how bad they are. I jes’ expeck -they’ll all grow up to be Yankees.” - -Margaret burst into a peal of laughter. - -“What makes you think they’ll grow up to be Yankees, Amy?” she said. -“Did anybody ever tell you so?” - -“No, Auntie Mard’rit, but they’re so awful bad; and if they’re that bad -when they’re little, I bet they _will_ grow up to be Yankees.” - -At this point Mrs. Guion entered, and Margaret related the story to her -with great zest. - -“How _do_ you suppose they got hold of such an idea?” she said. - -“I can’t imagine,” said Mrs. Guion, “I’m sure they never got it from -me. Alan will insist that they did, as he considers me a most bigoted -rebel. But certainly I have never taught any such sentiment as that to -the children. They must simply have imbibed it with the air they have -breathed.” - -“It’s an excellent story,” said Margaret, laughing over it still; “I -shall have no rest until I have told it to Mr. Gaston.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -Ever since Mrs. Gaston had called attention to the fact that Alan -Decourcy had a habit of watching her, Margaret had been conscious that -it was really the case. He always listened attentively when she spoke, -applauding by eloquent looks and smiles when her sentiments pleased -him, and looking annoyed and disappointed when they did not. She could -not help seeing that he was studying her with a deliberateness she felt -somewhat inclined to resent. - -It was hard to cherish any feeling of resentment against him, however, -during that pleasant week in Baltimore, for he was kindness itself, -contributing in every possible way to her comfort and enjoyment. Every -night there was something pleasant going on, and Alan was always at -hand, to act as escort, if no one else held the place. Margaret was -delighted with Baltimore, and when she expressed herself to this -effect, Mr. Decourcy showed such manifest approval of the sentiment -that she half regretted it the next minute. She was beginning to feel a -little disconcerted by certain signs she saw in Alan. - -This young lady got so much pleasure and entertainment out of -everything, that it often surprised her to catch glimpses of a -carefully concealed _ennui_ in the expression of her cousin’s guarded -countenance. - -“I should not like to be as thoroughly initiated as you are, Alan,” she -said to him one day. “You’ve seen and done pretty much everything, I -suppose, and nothing has any particular zest for you now.” - -“You audacious young fledgeling!” exclaimed her cousin. “How dare you -make me out such a _blasé_ old fellow? How old am I, do you suppose?” - -“I really don’t quite know.” - -“I am just barely thirty-three--not entirely superannuated yet!” - -“About three years older than Mr. Gaston!” said Margaret, reflectively. - -“I can’t understand the inflection of your voice,” said Alan, rather -eagerly; “do I seem that much older than he?” - -“I hardly know,” answered Margaret, still in the same thoughtful tone. -“Mr. Gaston is such a busy man that he bears the impress of cares and -responsibilities, and that makes him seem older; but in his feelings he -seems worlds younger than you.” - -“And haven’t I cares and responsibilities too, I’d like to know! Wait -till I’m fairly launched in my profession, and see how I will peg away -at my briefs and documents.” - -“Oh, Alan!” said Margaret, smiling indulgently, in a way that irritated -him; “it is impossible to imagine you really at work. Have you ever -practised at all?” - -“Not yet. Circumstances have prevented, and I remained abroad much -longer than I had any idea of doing; but one thing after another -detained me. After Christmas, however, I am going to open an office -and go to work in earnest.” - -He spoke with confidence, but his tone did not impose upon his cousin, -who in her heart had but small belief in his work. The fact was -becoming more and more evident to her, that the nomadic life this -elegant young gentleman had led had held him back from strong purposes, -however much it had advanced him in social accomplishments and graces. - -“If a man has done nothing, from choice, up to thirty,” she said to -herself, reflectively, “the chances are that, if the power of choice -remains, he will continue to do nothing.” - -“I am so glad you are pleased with Baltimore, Margaret,” said her -cousin, interrupting her reverie. “How do you think you should like it -as a residence?” - -“Oh, I should like my home, wherever it chanced to be,” said Margaret. -“It is people, and not places, that make one’s happiness, I think. I am -sure I could be happy wherever my dear father and mother were.” - -“But you cannot have them always. By-and-by some one must take their -place.” - -“Yes,” said Margaret, “I suppose so, but I try not to think of that.” - -“Do you never think of marriage, Margaret? I suppose all young ladies -must.” - -“Not often, as applied to myself,” she said. - -“Don’t you think matrimony desirable?” - -“I really don’t know,” said Margaret, a little uneasily. “Not as we -usually see it, certainly. I suppose under the very best conditions -marriage is the happiest life--but I know nothing about it.” - -“I am quite sure it is the happiest life,” said Alan, “for both men and -women, and it is the greatest possible mistake to put it off too long. -Don’t be too fastidious as to conditions, Margaret, and too high-flown -in your notions. Mutual liking and respect, and congeniality of -tastes are a good enough foundation--the rest will follow. A cheerful -disposition is an immense consideration, and that you have. You will -always make the best of whatever comes. I don’t think I ever saw a -woman better fitted for matrimony.” - -He spoke so earnestly and looked at her with such intentness, that -Margaret felt herself somewhat ill at ease, and was relieved when the -door burst open and Decourcy came running in. - -“Auntie Mard’rit, Ethel says you’re not my really auntie,” he said, -wofully; “you is, now--ain’t you, Auntie Mard’rit?” - -“I love you just the same as if I were, Dee,” said Margaret, lifting -him to her knee. “I couldn’t be your real auntie, you know, because I’m -not your mother’s or your father’s sister. Can you understand that?” - -“But Mrs. Gregg is Jack and Cora’s auntie,” said Amy, who had come to -take part in the discussion, “and she’s not their mamma’s sister or -their papa’s either; she only married their uncle.” - -“And if Margaret married your uncle, she would be your really auntie, -too,” said Alan, quietly. “She could settle the whole matter, if she -would, and don’t you think she might? I do.” - -“Oh! Auntie Mard’rit, won’t you please marry uncle?” cried Amy, -imploringly, while Dee, partially seizing the idea, repeated faintly: - -“Auntie Mard’rit, peese marry uncle.” - -“Run away, children,” said Margaret, provoked to feel herself blushing. -“Alan, how can you put such nonsense into their heads?” - -“I am afraid it is but too true that you consider it nonsense,” he -said, with a gravity that surprised her. Immediately afterward he -left the room, and Margaret found herself alone with the children, -who insisted on pushing the question to its remotest issue with a -persistency that was almost distracting. - -After this it was impossible but that she should realize that her -cousin was studying her with a purpose. She could hardly suppose that -he thought seriously of asking her to marry him, and yet the interest -he displayed in trying to direct her opinions pointed that way. -She made a strong effort to shake off the idea. Its deliberateness -shocked her. Charming as her cousin was, his calm philosophicalness -often irritated her, and she was at times inclined to believe him -cold-blooded and selfish, until perhaps, just afterward, some act of -kindness to herself or his sister or the children made her heartily -ashamed of this suspicion. And, indeed, it was an easy thing to judge -Alan Decourcy kindly. So he kept his place as a trusty and beloved -kinsman. - -Shortly before the end of Margaret’s allotted week in Baltimore, -Mrs. Gaston forwarded to her an invitation to a large party to be -given by some people who happened to be friends of Alan Decourcy -also, and insisted that both of them should come over in time for -the entertainment. Margaret’s week would be out, she said, and no -extension of leave would be granted. So she was to come without fail, -and to bring Mr. Decourcy with her. Alan readily acquiesced in the -arrangement, and at the proper time they set forth together. - -Margaret was feeling particularly well-disposed toward her cousin that -afternoon, as they steamed along in the express train together. She had -the recollection of a host of kind acts toward herself stored away in -her mind, and it seemed to come almost more naturally than usual to her -to like this pleasant, considerate, affectionate cousin. - -When they had reached Washington, and were driving swiftly along the -smooth asphalt pavements in Cousin Eugenia’s snug coupé, Margaret said, -cordially: - -“You’ve done _everything_ to make my visit a happy one, Alan! I do -thank you so much.” - -“It has been a happy time to me,” he said; “_so_ happy! How capitally -we get on together, Daisy--don’t we?” - -“It always makes me think of dear papa to hear you call me Daisy,” -answered the girl, instinctively avoiding a direct answer to his -appeal. “I had forgotten that you called me so.” - -“I have adopted it intentionally,” he said. “Margaret seems cold, -and I want to get rid of the sense of distance between us which our -long separation has engendered, for who knows but by-and-by what you -are pleased to call nonsense now may come to look differently, as -use familiarizes it? Don’t turn upon me in that sudden way, dear. I -wouldn’t startle you for the world. I only want you to promise to think -of me often, until after a while I come to see you down in Bassett, and -we can talk things over quietly and calmly.” - -“I shall always think of you as a kind and dear cousin,” answered -Margaret. - -“But I cannot promise I shall always be content with that,” he said, -bending toward her, with a motion of great gentleness, and softly -laying his gloved hand over hers. “My sweet Margaret,” he murmured; “my -strong hope is, that some day I can teach you to think of me as I would -have you. And, meantime, I can wait.” - -Margaret made an effort to withdraw her hand, but he held it in a -close, detaining clasp, and, looking up, she met his eyes fixed on -her, with a gaze so sweet and tender, that it somehow seemed to soothe, -while it agitated her. Once more she attempted to withdraw her hand, -and this time he released it, but before doing so he raised it to his -lips and kissed it. - -Margaret felt deeply disturbed. It was something very new to her to see -this phase in her cousin’s relationship toward her, and the very fact -that she felt in her heart no response to these signs of tenderness, -distressed her. She knew the time must come when she would have to deny -and thwart him, and the idea gave her pain. If she had hitherto doubted -that he really loved her, she doubted it no longer. That look of his, -as he lifted her hand to kiss it, made doubt impossible. It was no -cool, cousinly affection; it was a passionate emotion that looked out -from his eyes. - -She felt relieved when the carriage stopped at General Gaston’s door, -and Alan, after handing her out, took leave, to be driven to his hotel -to dine and dress. The remembrance of that look of his would not be -shaken off, however, and she appeared before Mrs. Gaston in a somewhat -pensive mood. - -Cousin Eugenia was delighted to see her, and declared she had missed -her unendurably. She informed her, hurriedly, that they were all well, -and that Louis was in New York, having been there ever since the day -after her own departure for Baltimore; and then they fell to discussing -Margaret’s costume for the party. - -“My white silk is all ready,” said Margaret, somewhat listlessly. “I -have not worn it yet, you know. It is high, and perhaps better suited -to a dinner, but I like it, and suppose it will do.” - -“That splendid old lace would make it elegant enough for any occasion,” -said Mrs. Gaston; “and as to the high neck, somehow that style suits -you, in spite of the eminent presentability of your neck and arms. But -go now to your room and take a good nap. Ring for a cup of tea when you -get up. I want you to look very fresh to-night.” - -When Margaret entered her apartment, she caught sight of a letter on -her dressing-table, and immediately her brows contracted. She knew the -hand. It was from Charley Somers, and, to tell the truth, this young -gentleman was somewhat in disgrace. He had some friends in Washington, -and, a short time back, he had written to Margaret to ask her to allow -him to come on and see her, with the ostensible purpose of visiting -these friends. Margaret had written at once, and distinctly forbidden -him to come. The mere suggestion made her indignant. It had the air of -asserting a claim when no shadow of such existed. She supposed she had -finally settled the matter, and what had he to say in this letter? She -tore it open hastily and ran her eyes down the length of its pages; -when she reached the end she threw it from her, with a motion of angry -indignation. Mr. Somers wrote to say that the tone of her letter -had made him feel so uneasy that, even at the risk of incurring her -displeasure, he was coming on to Washington. Margaret hastily pulled -out her watch. There was yet time to catch the Southern mail. She threw -off her hat and wraps, and sitting down at her desk scratched off a few -hurried lines, saying to Mr. Somers, that he might come to Washington -or not, exactly as it suited his pleasure, but forbidding him, in plain -terms, to call upon her in the event of his doing so. Without pausing -to read it over, she addressed and sealed the letter, and rang for a -servant to post it. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -When Miss Trevennon, dressed for the ball, descended to join her -cousin that memorable December evening, she looked undeniably lovely, -and so Mrs. Gaston admitted to herself with supreme satisfaction. The -young girl’s tall beauty was superbly displayed by this rather severe -costume--with its heavy, gleaming drapery falling about her, white and -plain. The flounces of rich lace made a splendid trimming for the long -skirt, which trailed behind her in a graceful, shimmering mass, and the -pointed body outlined to perfection her round and pliant waist. The -dress was cut high, and a fall of the lovely lace finished the throat -and sleeves. - -Miss Trevennon’s clear-cut, soft-tinted face was somewhat inanimate -this evening. The ball had lost much of its charm since she had -contemplated the prospect in the morning. In the first place, the -possibility of Charley Somers coming to Washington troubled her, and, -in the second, Alan Decourcy’s words and looks, with a chance of their -repetition this evening, made her uneasy. Besides these, there was a -feeling of disappointment, all the keener for being unowned, even to -herself, that Louis Gaston should not be here to welcome her back, and -to share the interest and pride Cousin Eugenia so evidently took in her -appearance at this ball. - -Arrived at their destination, Mrs. Gaston and Margaret, escorted by -General Gaston, were passing through the main hall on their way to the -dressing-rooms, when they came upon Alan Decourcy, with a sumptuously -apparelled lady on his arm. She was a decidedly pretty woman, and -Margaret observed that she clung to her companion with an air of the -friendliest familiarity. She also observed that her pink gauze costume -was somewhat _decolleté_, and that a strap of black velvet stood in -lieu of a sleeve across her white shoulder, a similar bit supporting a -superb pendant of diamonds, which ornamented her fair, round throat. - -This lady bowed affably to Mrs. Gaston, and regarded Margaret with a -broad stare. Alan, of course, spoke also, but for some reason Margaret -avoided doing more than just glancing at him as she passed on toward -the staircase. - -“And so Mrs. Vere already has your cousin in her toils!” said Mrs. -Gaston, as they were approaching the dressing-room. - -“Was that Mrs. Vere?” said Margaret. “Who is she?” - -“Oh, she’s one of the most noted of the married belles!” said Mrs. -Gaston. “If Mr. Decourcy were not a man of the world and well able to -take care of himself, it might be well for you to warn him. As it is, I -feel no anxiety about him.” - -“And who is Mr. Vere?” - -“Mrs. Vere’s husband. He may or may not be here. He’s apt to turn up in -the supper-room.” - -Margaret said no more, but set herself to the adjustment of her toilet -with a certain air of preoccupation. Having ascertained by a glance -that her costume was in order, she stood looking very thoughtful as she -waited for her cousin, whose touches here and there consumed a much -longer time. - -When the two ladies emerged from the dressing-room together, they found -Alan Decourcy, with General Gaston, awaiting them. He had freed himself -from Mrs. Vere, in some way, and offered his arm to take Margaret -into the room. She laid her hand within it lightly, and they followed -General and Mrs. Gaston in silence. - -After they had spoken to their hostess and her daughters, Decourcy led -Miss Trevennon away to make the tour of the rooms, which were ablaze -with lights and flowers, and gorgeous to behold. - -“There’s something very distinguished about this dress you are wearing, -Margaret,” he said, in a tone that was caressingly sweet, “or is it, -perhaps, my cousin’s lovely face and figure that make it appear so? You -are looking your very best, yet I never saw you so devoid of color.” - -“It’s the contrast with Mrs. Vere’s gorgeousness, perhaps!” said -Margaret, with a rather strained little laugh. “When did you meet Mrs. -Vere, by-the-way?” - -He turned suddenly, and looked at her with a glance of keen scrutiny, -but, seeing the utter unsuspiciousness of her frank gaze, he said -carelessly: - -“Mrs. Vere? Oh, she’s a very old friend! I hardly remember the time -when I didn’t know Antoinette Vere.” - -“Did you know of her being in Washington?” - -“Yes, indeed; I saw her when I was in town, the other day. She lives -here.” - -“Why, I wonder you did not tell me you had this great friend living -here, and make her come to see me!” said Margaret, in her honest way. - -“I didn’t think of it,” he said, somewhat constrainedly. “I didn’t -suppose you’d care for it.” - -He turned, then, and called her attention to some especially pretty bit -of decoration, and Mrs. Vere was not mentioned again. - -In a few minutes Mr. Leary came up to speak to Miss Trevennon, and, -soon after, one or two other acquaintances appeared, and Margaret was -importuned for dances. - -“I shall not dance this evening,” she said, forming the resolution -suddenly. She had not thought of the matter before, but when the time -came she found herself indisposed to dance. There were strong protests -from the young gentlemen, but these her decided manner soon silenced, -and when Mr. Leary offered his arm, to take her to look for a seat, she -looked around for Decourcy and found that he was gone. - -For a long while after this, she had not time to think of her cousin. -Scores of people were presented to her, by Mrs. Gaston and others, -and the General whispered to her that his popularity with the young -gentlemen this evening was something phenomenal. She went into the -drawing-room and looked on for a while, and though she kept to her -resolution she might have had two partners for every dance, if she had -chosen. Most of the men whom she declined to dance with manifested an -entire willingness to stop and talk instead, and throughout the evening -she was so well attended, that Cousin Eugenia, who had heard with -quaking of her resolution not to dance, admitted to herself, in the -end, that it had given her young cousin a more distinguished appearance. - -When the evening was growing old, and the flowers began to droop and -the music to flag; when the girls began to look the worse for too much -dancing, and the men, in many cases, the worse for too much wine, Miss -Trevennon, finding herself a little weary, yielded to the suggestion -of her companion for the moment, who happened to be Lord Waring, and -allowed herself to be led to a cool, dim recess in the conservatory, -where she sank into a seat to wait, while Lord Waring went for a glass -of water for her. It was very still and quiet here. Almost every one -was occupied either in the supper-room or in dancing, and Margaret -supposed herself to be quite alone, until the sound of low-toned -voices arrested her attention. Turning, she caught sight, between the -branches of some densely leaved palms, of the figures of a man and -woman. The latter’s back was turned, but Margaret recognized the pink -costume and smooth, bare shoulders. The head was raised to meet the -ardent gaze of the man who bent above her. This man’s face was turned -full toward Margaret, and she, too, could see that gaze--a tender, -fervid look that, but a few hours since, had been bent upon herself. -Instinctively she closed her eyes, afraid to look longer, and feeling -a quick pang of horror as she remembered that so recently this man had -kissed her hand. Thank Heaven he had never, for one instant, touched -her heart--that she cared not an atom for him! But suppose it had been -different! Suppose the tenderness he had so successfully counterfeited, -the significant words she had so implicitly believed, had awakened an -answering tenderness in her heart! - -As these hurried thoughts rushed through her mind, she rose to her -feet, confused and agitated. Again her troubled gaze rested for one -instant upon another vision of those two figures through the vista -of flowers and leaves, but it was for an instant only, for she felt -a swift instinct of flight, and forgetting Lord Waring and the fact -that he would expect to find her where he had left her, she fled from -the conservatory and entered the room beyond. Bewildered, agitated, -weak, uncertain, she looked about her with a troubled gaze, and met the -steadfast eyes of Louis Gaston. - -With a look of joyful relief she hastened toward him and placed her -hand, with a confiding motion, within the arm he extended. His calm -and self-collected aspect, the firm support of his strong arm, the -repose of his quiet manner, the freshness of his evening toilet, -recently made, which contrasted so pleasantly with the somewhat -dishevelled and flushed appearance of many of the men at this late -hour, all these were so restful and reassuring that Margaret drew a -long breath of contentment to find herself so safe. - -“Where did you come from?” she said. “You were the very last person I -expected to see.” - -“I returned from New York by the evening train, and, late as it was, -I concluded to dress and come to the ball. I have seen my hostess, -who has kindly forgiven my tardiness, and my next thought was to find -you. I was in the act of seeking you in the supper-room when you -unexpectedly appeared before me, solitary and alone.” - -“I was _so_ glad to see you,” she said, with the unconscious simplicity -a child might have shown. - -He took her words as naturally as they were uttered, and said simply: - -“How did you happen to be alone?” - -“Oh, Lord Waring was with me,” she said, suddenly, remembering her -errant knight. “He went to get me some water. I wonder where he is.” - -At this moment Lord Waring appeared at the door of the conservatory, -glass in hand. - -Margaret hurriedly made her apologies, explaining her having caught -sight of Mr. Gaston unexpectedly, his recent return from New York, etc. - -His lordship accepted her explanation in good part, and when Margaret -had drunk the water rather eagerly he went off to return the glass, -saying he would see her again. - -He had scarcely disappeared when Gaston and Margaret, going out into -the hall, saw Mrs. Vere and Alan Decourcy coming toward them. - -Gaston suddenly stood still, detaining his companion by a slight -pressure of the arm, and said, hurriedly: - -“It is just possible that Mrs. Vere may ask you to join a theatre-party -she is getting up for to-morrow evening. Forgive me if I take the -liberty of suggesting that you shall decline if she should do so. Make -an engagement to go with me instead, and just excuse yourself on the -plea of a previous engagement. I hope you will pardon my venturing to -advise you.” - -“Certainly,” said Margaret; “but she will not ask me. I do not know -her.” - -Mrs. Vere, however, was coming straight toward them, and she now -stopped in front of them, and giving Louis a tap with her fan, said: - -“Present me to Miss Trevennon,” and when Gaston had complied, she went -on in a rather boisterous tone: - -“I’ve been teasing your cousin to present me to you all the evening, -Miss Trevennon; but I suppose he wanted the monopoly of you, for he -would not even bring me into your neighborhood.” - -“It may have been that he wanted the monopoly of yourself,” said -Gaston, looking at her keenly and speaking in his quietest tones. - -“Well, it’s more than you’ll ever want, then!” said Mrs. Vere, pertly; -“so you can just keep yourself out of the matter.” - -“I have every intention of doing so, madam,” said Gaston, gravely. “I -know my place, and I value my peace of mind.” - -Mrs. Vere flashed a quick, vindictive glance at him, as he uttered -these quiet words, and then turning to Margaret, she said: - -“I want to ask you to join a little theatre-party I am giving to-morrow -evening, Miss Trevennon. There will be eight of us, and we are going to -see _As You Like It_, and have a little supper at my house afterward. -Now don’t say you have any other engagement.” - -“Unfortunately I must,” said Margaret, conscious of the insincerity of -the qualifying term, and yet too grateful to Louis for preparing her -for this contingency to feel very contrite on account of it. “I have -already pledged myself elsewhere.” - -“How tiresome!” said Mrs. Vere, darting a suspicious glance at Louis, -which he met with imperturbable gravity. “By-the-way, I called on you -while you were in Baltimore. I suppose you got my card.” - -And, without waiting for an answer, she moved away, on Decourcy’s arm, -saying, as if half involuntarily: - -“I detest that man.” - -Decourcy, who was looking somewhat preoccupied, made no answer, until -she gave his arm a little jerk and said, with the petulance of a child: - -“What’s the matter with you? Why don’t you speak?” - -“What can I say, except that I feel deeply sorry for poor Gaston, and -appropriately grateful that I do not happen to be in his place.” - -He spoke in his softest tones, but Mrs. Vere knew instinctively that -her spell was, for the time being, broken. Well! it had been broken -before, she reflected, and she had always succeeded in mending it, and -she felt confident she could do so again. - -Meantime, as Margaret and Louis walked away, to look for Mrs. Gaston, -the former said: - -“Was it not rather odd that Mrs. Vere didn’t ask you to join her party?” - -“She did,” said Louis. “She wrote me a note, which was forwarded to me -in New York.” - -“And what did you do?” asked Margaret. - -“Excused myself on the score of another engagement.” - -“But you didn’t----” she began, and then stopped with uplifted eyebrows. - -“I know,” he answered, smiling; “but I foresaw at least the possibility -that you would be propitious.” - -“I think she’s angry with you about it.” - -“Very likely. She’s been angry with me before.” - -“I didn’t know, until to-night, that she was an old friend of Alan’s,” -said Margaret. - -“Oh yes,” he answered, indifferently; “it’s an affair of long standing, -I hear.” - -“What do you mean?” said Margaret, facing him with a sudden surprise, -and then, remembering the scene she had witnessed in the conservatory, -she averted her eyes, and was silent. - -“I merely meant,” he answered, in a tone of quick regret, “that I -happened to hear Waring say that they were friends in London, last -year. Mr. and Mrs. Vere spent the season there, and your cousin -happening to be there also, naturally saw them often--all being -Americans together.” - -At this point they caught sight of Mrs. Gaston, and Margaret hastened -to join her, and so the subject was very willingly dropped by them both. - -Cousin Eugenia declared and reiterated that Margaret had been a shining -success at this ball, but of that the girl thought and cared little. -But for many days to come, the recurring thoughts of that evening -brought with them certain memories that rankled, as well as certain -others that comforted and soothed. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -“And so Mrs. Vere wanted you in her theatre-party!” said Cousin Eugenia -to Margaret, the next morning, as they were driving about in a flutter -of preparation for Christmas. Margaret had sent off a charming box -home, and she was now assisting Mrs. Gaston in the completion of her -various Christmas schemes. - -“Yes,” she answered quietly, “and I declined.” - -“Louis told me about it. It’s just as well you got out of it. He was -afraid he had ventured too far in advising you. He said he felt he had -no sort of right to do it, and that, in most cases, he should have held -his peace; but he couldn’t bear to think of you in the midst of Mrs. -Vere’s set, and he found the impulse to prevent it too strong to be -resisted.” - -“He was quite right,” said Margaret, feeling a little throb of pleasure -in the considerate interest implied in what Mr. Gaston had said. “I -should not have wanted to go, in any case, but I might not have known -how to avoid it, and he gave me the means. I felt very thankful to him. -But what is it that makes both you and Mr. Gaston distrust Mrs. Vere?” - -Cousin Eugenia gave a little shrug. - -“Mrs. Vere is extremely pretty,” she said, “and of course she has -admirers. She is certainly very free in her ways with them, but I know -no more than that, and I certainly don’t care to know more. I asked -Louis why he objected to your going with her, and he said, with that -frown of his, that you could not possibly find any pleasure in her -acquaintance. He would say nothing more, but I felt sure, by the way he -looked, that there was a good deal kept back.” - -“I wonder at Alan Decourcy,” said Margaret. - -“Do you?” said Mrs. Gaston. “I don’t. I have long since ceased to -wonder at any man’s admiring any woman.” - -“But how can he? He is so fastidious.” - -“Perhaps I used the wrong word,” said Mrs. Gaston; “to admire a woman -is one thing and to find her amusing is another. I fancy Mr. Decourcy -finds Mrs. Vere amusing--most men do, indeed--and your cousin is the -sort of man with whom that is paramount. With men of a certain type the -woman who can furnish them most amusement will ever have the strongest -hold upon them, and to that type I rather think your fascinating cousin -belongs. As I said, most men find Mrs. Vere amusing, and as her husband -does not look after her at all, the coast is clear for them to come and -be amused; and they come.” - -“I don’t think Mr. Gaston finds her amusing,” said Margaret. - -“Louis! I should think not!” said Mrs. Gaston, warmly. “My dear, -you don’t know Louis yet--perhaps you never will. Very few people -besides Edward and I know what that boy is. I know him, through and -through, and I unhesitatingly declare that he’s an angel. I believe -he’s of a different grain from other men. Mrs. Vere could no more -ensnare him than she could put shackles on a mist-cloud; and for that -reason--because she knows her usual darts are powerless with him--she -is feverishly anxious to get him in her toils. I’ll do her the justice -to say her efforts have been masterly. She’s left no stone unturned. -She’s tried the musical dodge, and invited him to warble duets with -her. That must have been a temptation, for you know how he loves music, -and her voice is charming. She’s tried the charity dodge, and has come -to him with tears in her eyes to get him to make plans for cottages she -proposed to erect for poor people on her estate in the outer antipodes. -He told me about that himself, and what do you suppose was his answer -to her appeal? He told her that when she had made arrangements with -the builder to go to work, to tell the latter to write to him on the -subject and he would gladly furnish the plans for her cottages and -feel himself honored in advancing her good work--begged her not to -mention the question of payment, and bowed her out of his office with -the assurance that the builder’s letter should find him most willing -to co-operate, and insisted that she should wash her fair hands of -these dry business details and leave them entirely to the builder and -himself. She plucked up courage on the landing, to tell him she had -some plans to submit. He replied to this that, as he had long since -submitted himself and all his designs and aspirations to his partner, -and as he did not venture to call his soul, much less his squares and -angles, his own, without the approbation of Mr. Ames, her plans must -be submitted to the firm at New York, where he would promise to give -them his circumspect attention under the judicious eye of his chief. -It must have been a funny scene,” said Cousin Eugenia, smiling. “Poor -Mrs. Vere! She let him alone severely for some time after that, but -she finally began again on another tack. I think she is beginning to -understand now that there is one man who can resist her, and when once -she is quite persuaded that she is vanquished, how she will hate him! -There’s nothing she wouldn’t do to avenge herself; but I fancy Louis is -as far beyond the range of her revenge as he is of her fascination. The -truth is, as to Louis,” Cousin Eugenia went on, after a moment’s pause, -“that he’s radically cold-blooded. He’s affectionate to his friends -and relatives, and really fond of many of them, but he’s absolutely -unemotional--not to be roused to deep feeling. But for this fact I fear -Mrs. Vere’s efforts would have been long since crowned with success. -It is really a valuable trait for a man to have, if it were only for -its uniqueness, but occasionally it’s a little bit exasperating. Who -but Louis, for instance, would have lived all these weeks in the same -house with a charming girl like you without falling, at least a little, -in love with her? For you are a charming girl, my dear, and Louis -accurately appreciates the fact; but there it ends. At first I thought -I saw signs of a speedy capitulation, but it came to nothing. I ought -to have known the frogginess of my brother-in-law better. I should have -liked Louis to fall in love with you, no matter how it ended. It would -have been nice to have you for a sister and neighbor, and if that was -not to be, it would have been a satisfaction to see Louis stirred out -of his eternal calm, and concerning himself about something over and -above designs and estimates. But I am afraid I am never to have the -supreme delight of seeing Louis love-lorn. And you, my dear,” said -Cousin Eugenia, turning to look at her, “I begin to fear you’re not -very far from being rather froggy yourself. It’s a very good thing -that you’ve taken no more of a fancy to Louis, as it all turns out--(I -fancied you, too, were in some danger at first!)--but I do wonder how -you have kept so cool about that captivating young man, your cousin, -with his sweet, caressing smiles and artful, foreign ways. The Mrs. -Vere episode would have been rather a blow, I fear, if you had set your -affections in that quarter.” - -“On the whole,” said Margaret, smiling, “it seems to me that I am -escaping a good many breakers by remaining fancy free. But here we are -at our destination.” - -And so the conversation ended. - -During this day--the one that followed the party--Margaret received a -note from Charley Somers, bearing a Washington post-mark. Observing -this, her first angry thought was to return it unopened, so indignant -was she at his persistence, and when she presently decided to read it, -its humble and imploring tone did not mollify her in the least. Her -letter of course had not reached him, and he had grown impatient and -concluded not to wait to hear from her. - -She wrote him a few lines, declining explicitly to see him, feeling -herself justified in taking so extreme a measure, as lesser ones had -failed to repress the young man’s ardor. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - -On Christmas-eve, after dinner, as General and Mrs. Gaston, Miss -Trevennon and Mr. Louis Gaston were seated around the drawing-room -fire, a card of invitation was brought in by Thomas, and delivered to -General Gaston. As he took it and scanned it through his glasses, a -perceptible gleam of satisfaction came into his eyes, and he handed it -to Mrs. Gaston, saying: - -“A card for General Morton’s supper.” - -“Indeed!” returned his wife, with a reflection of his gratified -expression. “Really, this is very kind.” - -As she took the card and looked at it, Margaret surveyed her -wonderingly. Turning her eyes away from her cousin’s face, an instant -later, she saw that Louis Gaston was regarding her with a sort of -deprecating amusement. He was seated near to her, and so he alone -distinguished her words, when she murmured, in an undertone: - -“‘How strange are the customs of France’!” - -She smiled as she said it, and Cousin Eugenia, who saw the smile, but -missed the words she had uttered, said explainingly: - -“This supper of General Morton’s is an annual affair. He has given one -on New Year’s night ever since he has been in Washington. They are -limited to twenty-five gentlemen, and of course these are carefully -selected. It is always the most _recherché_ stag-party of the season, -and one is sure of meeting there the most distinguished and agreeable -people the city will afford. He has always been so kind in asking -Edward, though of course the invitations are greatly in demand, and -residents cannot always expect to receive them.” - -Nothing further was said about the matter just then, but it was -evident that this attention from General Morton had put Mrs. Gaston in -unusually high spirits, and her husband, on his part, was scarcely less -elated. - -A little later, when Louis and Margaret happened to be alone, the -former said: - -“I wish you would tell me what it was that amused you about that -invitation. The system of social tactics, of which you are the -exponent, begins to interest me extremely. What was it that brought -that puzzled look to your face just now?” - -“Shall I really tell?” the girl asked, doubtfully. - -“Pray do--frankly. I’m so interested to know.” - -“I was wondering who this General Morton could be, that a card to his -supper should be deemed such an acquisition. I have discovered the -fact that you Gastons are proud of your lineage, and, as I have heard -it said that yours is one of the few really historical families of -America, perhaps it should not be wondered at. Who then, can General -Morton be, I was thinking, to be in a position to confer honor on the -Gastons? I suppose he’s some one very grand, but I’m such an ignoramus -that I really don’t know who the Mortons are, when they’re at home.” - -“I believe Morton’s origin was very common,” said Louis. “Certainly, -he has no sort of claim to aristocratic distinction. He has a high -official position and is very rich and a very good-natured, sensible -sort of man, but it is out of the question that he could, socially -speaking, confer honor upon my brother.” - -“And yet it was evident,” began Margaret--but she stopped abruptly, and -Louis made no motion to help her out. - -“Do you know,” he said, presently, “that, through your influence, -Miss Trevennon, I have been gradually undergoing certain changes in -my points of view. I am getting an insight into your social basis -and system, and, stubborn Yankee as I am, I must admit that there’s -something fine in it. I really think I begin to feel myself veering -perceptibly. Until I met you, I had no idea what a difference there was -between the Northern and Southern ideas of these matters.” - -“But I must not be taken as a strict representative of the Southern -idea--nor you, I suppose, for a strict representative of the Northern -idea,” said Margaret. “At home, they think me a great radical. I have -no special respect for pedigrees in general. That one’s forefathers -should have been honest is the first thing, it seems to me, and that -they should have been social luminaries should come a long way after.” - -“You rather amaze me in that,” said Louis. “I thought there were no -sticklers for birth and ancestry like the Southerners.” - -“It is perfectly true of a large class of them,” said Margaret; “but -I have seen too much of the degeneration of distinguished families in -the South, to have much sympathy with that idea. In too many cases -they have lacked the spirit to save them from such degeneration, and, -that being the case, what does their blood go for? It ought to go for -nothing, I think--worse than nothing, for if it has any virtue at all, -it should make its possessors independent and manly.” - -“You have sometimes sneered a little gentle sneer at the Gaston -pride--have you not?” said Louis; “and I’ve sometimes thought it odd, -because I had always been told that the pride of the Southern people is -unprecedented.” - -“It is of a different sort,” said Margaret; “for instance----” - -But she checked herself, and colored. - -“Oh, pray give me the example,” said Louis, earnestly. “Illustrations -are such helps. I beg you will not let any over-sensibility prevent -your speaking plainly. It may be that you’ve got the best of these -social questions. I want to be able to judge.” - -“How honest and fair you are!” said Margaret, “and how rare that spirit -is! I really think I’ll tell you frankly what I was going to say. You -know what an appreciation of your brother I have, and how entirely his -fine qualities command my respect, but I will not deny that his bearing -in the matter of this invitation has amazed me. I think I am safe in -saying that no Southern man, in your brother’s sphere of society, -could possibly be found--no matter how insulated or behind the times -he might be--no matter how poor or incapable or ignorant, who could be -agitated and flattered by an invitation from General Morton or General -anybody else. The notion would never penetrate their brains. But I am -very bold,” she said, checking herself suddenly. “I am afraid I have -said too much.” - -“It would be too much for any one else to say to me certainly,” said -Louis, looking steadily at her, “and I cannot say the idea you suggest -is exactly palatable; but I think I could hardly take offence at words -of yours.” - -At that moment the door-bell rang, and presently Thomas announced -General Reardon. - -“Generals seem to be the order of the day,” said Margaret, with a -smile, as the visitor was crossing the hall. “I might be back in -Bassett for the prevalence of titles.” - -Miss Trevennon greeted General Reardon with great cordiality, and -set herself at once to the task of entertaining him. He called only -occasionally at the Gastons’ house, as he did not enjoy their society -any more than they did his. He had been in the United States Army -before the war, and had been extremely popular among the officers, -being possessed of a fund of anecdote and humor, which congealed -instantly in the atmosphere of the Gastons’ drawing-room, but flowed -freely enough in camps and barracks. He was of a good Southern family, -and essentially a gentleman. His visits, as has been indicated, -were not especially inspiring to the Gastons, but Cousin Eugenia -had detected in her husband a faint tendency to slight this distant -cousin of hers, and it was just like her, after that, to treat him -with greater distinction. General Gaston, in truth, found it a little -difficult to ignore the fact that he was an officer in the Federal army -who had gone with the South, and certainly did not enjoy his visits; -but he stood in some awe of his wife, which enabled him partially to -conceal the fact that he chafed under her cousin’s companionship. - -When Thomas had summoned his master and mistress to the drawing-room, -Mrs. Gaston seated herself near General Reardon, and at once fell into -fluent conversation with him. General Gaston, for his part, established -himself half-way between this couple and the pair who were seated on -the other side of the fire-place. He sat very straight and erect in his -chair, occasionally making a rather forced remark to General Reardon, -who, in his turn, was conscious of being bored and ill at ease, but -entirely unconscious of being the object of any slight whatever. It -occurred to him, perhaps, that his host’s manner was peculiar, even -unfortunate, but it would have taken a great deal to convey to his -honest breast the suspicion that any gentleman alive could mean to -slight a visitor in his own house. - -Mrs. Gaston, when she chose, could talk agreeably to any one on almost -any subject, and she was now discussing crops and market-gardening, -and listening, with great vivacity of expression, to a detailed account -that General Reardon was giving of the reports his wife--whom he called -“Loose,” her name being Lucy--related of the result of a little venture -in the way of a market-garden which they had made. - -“By-the-way, General,” said the visitor, breaking off suddenly from -his conversation with Mrs. Gaston, and turning to address her husband, -as if struck with a sudden thought; “are you invited to this supper of -General Morton’s?” - -Imperceptible bristles began to rise over General Gaston’s surface. He -drew himself still more erect, and cleared his throat once or twice -before answering. - -“Ah--I beg your pardon--ah--yes,” said General Gaston, with an -inflection that suggested that he was rather asking a question than -answering one. He cleared his throat again and went on, with a certain -superciliousness that Margaret noted carefully. “General Morton has -been kind enough to remember me and send me a card. There is always -a very distinguished company at these suppers of his, and I shouldn’t -think of missing this.” - -“Loose wants me to go,” responded General Reardon, in indolent, -indifferent tones that set Margaret’s blood a-tingling with delight; -“but I don’t care anything about it. I s’pose the men’ll all wear -swallow-tails, and I haven’t got one. I’ll tell Morton he’ll have to -let me off.--What I was going to tell you about the potato crop, is -this,” he said, returning to his conversation with Mrs. Gaston, as -being the more interesting of the two. “Loose says, if we’d planted -Early Rose----” - -But Margaret listened no further. She knew Louis was looking at her, -and she had drawn down the corners of her mouth, demurely, in her -efforts not to laugh; but her eyes brimmed over with such sparkling -merriment, that the mouth’s quiescence went for little. - -Mr. Gaston presently drew out his watch, and reminded Miss Trevennon -of the fact that it was nearly time to set out for the theatre, in -fulfilment of their engagement, so she excused herself, and went to put -on her wraps. - -When the two young people found themselves alone together, in the -clear, bracing atmosphere of the city streets--they had chosen to -walk--Margaret began the conversation by saying: - -“Alan Decourcy called while we were out driving this morning. I hope we -shall not happen to be in view of the theatre-party to night; it would -be a little awkward, as we both refused to join it.” - -“Not at all,” said Louis, “they need never know but that our engagement -antedated their invitation. Don’t give yourself any uneasiness about -that.” - -When they had gone on a few moments in silence, Louis said in his -pleasant voice, which even in the darkness indicated that he was -smiling: - -“Well, you had your little triumph this evening!” - -“I did,” returned Margaret, with a soft, little laugh, “and I must -say I enjoyed it. But I was wondering how he happened to know General -Morton.” - -“Oh, I dare say they were chums in the United States Army, before the -war,” said Louis. “Only think what a chance that man threw away! Why, -if he had remained in the Union army he might have been a Major-General -by this time.” - -“He is a Major-General, I think,” said Margaret, demurely; “or is it -only a Brigadier?” - -“You impertinent little rebel!” said Louis. “How dare you say that to -me? How do you know I will submit to such audacity? You make heavy -draughts upon my clemency.” - -“I’m afraid I do,” said Margaret; “but I’ve always had them generously -honored. But while we are on the subject, there’s one thing that I do -want to say to you. Do you know, I have observed that your brother -never gives General Reardon his title? In speaking of him to me or -Cousin Eugenia, he always says ‘your cousin,’ and in speaking to him -he avoids calling him anything at all. Once only, when he had to say -something, he called him ‘Mr. Reardon.’ He did indeed!” - -“Well, in point of fact, you know,” said Louis, rather uncomfortably, -“he’s got no more right to the title of General than you have. The -point has been definitely decided. It is only a matter of courtesy.” - -“I don’t know who had the power to decide it,” Margaret said; “but we -are not considering the point of legal right. Its being, as you admit, -a matter of courtesy, should settle the thing, I think. Don’t you?” - -“Yes,” he said, “I do. I’m not sure I always thought so, but I do now.” - -When they reached the theatre, they found the overture just begun. A -few minutes later they saw Mrs. Vere’s party enter and place themselves -in their box. The dashing young hostess led the way, and seated herself -_en évidence_, with a brilliant party grouped about her. One or two -of these Margaret recognized, and Louis knew them all, naming them, -without comment, to Margaret. There was some one whom they did not -see, sitting in the shadow behind the curtain, and to this person Mrs. -Vere directed a greater part of her attention. She constantly leaned -to speak to him, or bowed her head to catch his utterances, casting -toward him now and then the languishing looks which her peculiarly long -eyelashes rendered so effective. Margaret felt that this person was -Alan Decourcy, and at the end of the first act her suspicion was proved -to be correct, as he then rose and came to Mrs. Vere’s side to take a -survey of the house. He looked very graceful and elegant, but, in some -way, the great charm his appearance had once possessed for her was gone. - -When she turned her eyes away from him, they rested, almost without -any volition of her own, upon Louis Gaston’s quiet profile. He was -looking away from her, and so she could scan at leisure the earnest -lineaments that had in them a genuineness and nobleness so much better -than beauty. The more she felt her disappointment in Alan Decourcy, -the more she believed in and rested upon Louis Gaston’s friendship. -Imperceptibly her regard for him had widened and deepened, until now -merely to think of him was to feel peaceful and safe and at rest. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - -Christmas Day was fine and brilliant, and Margaret awaked early. Her -first thoughts were of home and distant friends. How well she knew -that the dear father and mother, far away in Bassett, were thinking of -her! As she rose and dressed, her heart was in full unison with the -day’s sweet lesson of peace and goodwill, and when she knelt to say her -morning prayers, she had a vague feeling that somehow this Christmas -Day was a fuller and better one than any she had known before. She did -not ask herself what was the new element in her life that made it so; -it was too indefinite to be formulated into a tangible idea, but she -felt conscious of its presence. - -General and Mrs. Gaston had a charming present for her when she went -down to breakfast--a pair of exquisite gold bracelets of the most -beautiful design and workmanship, and, as they seemed really pleased -with the little presents that she had prepared for them, they had a -very satisfactory beginning of their Christmas Day. After breakfast, -she went to her room to write a letter home, and when that was done it -was time to dress for church. - -A little before eleven, as Miss Trevennon was standing in the deep -bow-window of the drawing-room, equipped for the morning service, she -heard a firm tread on the carpet behind her, and the next moment her -somewhat rusty little Prayer-book and Hymnal were slipped from her -hand, and a marvellous tortoise-shell case, containing two beautiful -little books, substituted for them. Margaret looked up quickly, and -met Louis Gaston’s smiling eyes. He had searched New York over for the -prettiest set he could find, and the result satisfied him. - -“You will use these instead, will you not?” he said. “I wanted to give -you some little thing.” - -A flush of pleasure rose to Margaret’s face. - -“I never saw anything half so lovely,” she said, handling them -delightedly. “To think of your taking the trouble! I suspect my shabby -little books offended your fastidious taste. I never dreamed of your -remembering me in this kind way. I wish I had a present for you.” - -“You might give me the old ones, perhaps,” he said, hesitatingly. “I -should think it a munificent return, for, as you say, they are worn and -shabby, and that comes only from much using. How often they have been -in your hands when your thoughts were away with God! I should like to -keep them as a souvenir of you. May I, if you don’t particularly value -them?” - -“I should be only too glad for you to have them,” said Margaret, in -a low voice. “Only I did not think you would care for anything like -that. I asked Cousin Eugenia once what church your family belonged to, -and she said you called yourselves Unitarians, but practically you -were pagans. I couldn’t help hoping it was not really true--of you at -least.” - -“It isn’t in the least true of me,” he said, frowning, and looking so -displeased that Margaret was almost sorry she had spoken. “I would not, -for anything, have you to suppose me an irreligious man, for it is not -true, and I never even called myself a Unitarian. On the contrary, I -was wishing a little while ago that I could go with you to church, so -that you and I might keep this day holy together.” - -“Do,” said Margaret, earnestly. “I have seen that you do not very often -go. Go with us to-day, and make a resolve for better things in future. -You would be so wise to do it.” - -“I don’t think I will go this morning,” he said; “Eugenia has not -room for me in the coupé. But will you let me take you to-night? We -will walk, perhaps, if it remains fine, and the music will be lovely. -Perhaps, if we’re lucky, they will get some good voice to sing the -_Cantique de Noël_.” - -“I love that so dearly,” Margaret said. “I shall be delighted to go -with you.” - -A little sigh rose, as she spoke. This was one of Charley Somers’ -favorites; she had taken pains to see that he sang it correctly, and -his voice was trained to it beautifully. - -Her reflections were cut short by the appearance of Mrs. Gaston, who -swept down the steps, elaborately arrayed in furs and velvets, and -signified her readiness to set out. - -Louis helped them into the carriage, and then turned away, saying he -was going for a long walk. There was a look of gravity on his face that -Margaret found herself recalling long afterward. - -The weather continued fine, and it proved quite mild enough for Louis -and Margaret to walk to church in the evening. As they took their way -along the gayly lighted streets, the young man turned suddenly and, -looking down into her face, said: - -“Do you know, I found a little pressed flower in my Hymnal, when I -opened it this morning. Am I to keep it or return it to you?” - -They were just under a gas-light, and Margaret, though she would not -drop her eyes under his searching gaze, felt that she looked confused, -as she said: - -“No; you must give that back to me. I had forgotten it.” - -It was a little flower that Charley Somers had put in there one -evening, and she had never happened to remove it. - -Mr. Gaston put his hand into his pocket and took out the book. It -opened easily at the place, and he removed the flower, which was run -into a little slit, and handed it to her as they entered the church -vestibule. - -“There were some initials under it,” he said. - -“Oh, you can just rub those out. It doesn’t matter,” said Margaret, -as she took the flower. She was about to crush and throw it from her, -when a pang of pity for poor Charley checked her; so she opened her own -Prayer-book and hurriedly slipped it among the leaves. - -The service seemed wonderfully sweet to her that night. The hymns and -anthems were triumphant and inspiring, and the sermon was simple, -earnest and comforting. Louis found his places, and used his little -book sedulously, and Margaret felt intuitively that this service was -sweet to him also. As she glanced at him occasionally, she saw that his -face looked serious and a little careworn, now that she saw it in such -perfect repose. - -The sermon was ended now. The congregation had risen at its -termination, and had settled again in their seats. The wardens were -walking up the aisle to receive the alms-basins, when the organ began -to murmur a low prelude. Louis and Margaret glanced at each other -quickly. It was the _Cantique de Noël_. - -Margaret leaned back in her seat, serene and restful, prepared for a -deep enjoyment of the pleasure before her, and at that moment a rich, -sweet voice, high up in the choir behind her began: - - “Oh, holy night----” - -At the first note uttered by that voice the color rushed to Miss -Trevennon’s cheeks, and she drew in her breath with a sound that was -almost a gasp. - -And up on high the beautiful voice sang on: - - “It is the night of the dear Saviour’s birth.” - -Higher and sweeter it soared--thrilling, rich, pathetic--and how -familiar to the young girl’s ears was every modulation and inflection! -How often had that flood of melody been poured forth, for her ear -alone, in the old parlor at home! - -It was Charley Somers, and she knew that he had seen her, and that he -was singing to her now, no less than then. She listened, as in a dream, -while the wistful, yearning voice sang on. And now came the words: - - “Fall on your knees! fall on your knees!” - -They were somewhat indistinct, in their mingling of sweet sounds, and, -in some vague way, it seemed to Margaret that they were a direct appeal -from Charley Somers to her for mercy and pardon. - -It was all so moving, and Gaston felt so touched by it himself, that -it scarcely surprised him when he glanced at Margaret, as the sweet -voice died away, to see that her eyes were full of tears. As they -knelt for the concluding prayer she brushed away the traces of these, -and when they walked down the aisle together her calmness had quite -returned. And how calm and quiet her companion looked! His perfectly -chosen clothes, the smooth neatness of his short, dark hair, and, more -than all, his self-collected bearing and thoughtful face, made him a -contrast to the rather carelessly dressed young man, with dishevelled, -curly locks, and eager, restless eyes, who stood in the vestibule, -at the foot of the gallery steps, rapidly scanning the faces of the -dispersing congregation, in complete unconsciousness of the fact that -his somewhat singular conduct and appearance were being observed -by those around him. As his restless gaze at last fell upon Miss -Trevennon, his knit brows relaxed, and he pressed forward. - -“May I come to see you to-morrow?” he said, in eager tones, which, -though low, were distinctly audible to Louis. - -“Yes,” replied Margaret at once, in a somewhat tremulous voice, “at -eleven in the morning.” - -Then, taking her companion’s arm, she passed on. Louis had observed -that the two did not shake hands, nor exchange any word of greeting. -This hurried question and answer was all that passed between them. What -had there been in a short, casual meeting like that to make the girl -look pale and excited, as her companion saw by a furtive glance that -she was? He could feel her hand tremble slightly when she first laid -it within his arm, but the little, almost imperceptible flutter soon -ceased, and she walked on very quiet and still. And so they took their -way along the streets in silence. She did not seem inclined to talk, -and he would not jar her by speaking. - -Margaret, as she mused upon this meeting, was blaming herself for the -concession she had made, which was indeed attributable altogether to -the music. - -“I have no resolution or power of resistance whatever, when I’m under -the influence of music,” she said to herself, half angrily. “It takes -away my moral accountability. I don’t believe the story of the sirens -is a fable. A beautiful voice could draw me toward itself as truly as -the pole draws the magnet. It is intense weakness. I ought to have told -him No, and ended the matter at once.” - -Remembering that her companion would have reason to wonder at her -silence, Margaret roused herself with an effort and made some comment -on the service. - -“It was all very beautiful,” said Louis. “I felt it very much, and I -feel very happy to have gone. That solo was exquisitely sung. The voice -does not seem to be highly cultivated, but it was thrillingly sweet.” - -“It was Mr. Somers, the young man from Bassett, whose voice I have -spoken to you of. He has just come to Washington, and I knew he would -want to see me, so I named an hour when I was sure to be free.” - -When they had reached home and were going up the steps, they found -Thomas opening the door for a colored servant-man, who had two small -parcels in his hand. He took off his hat and stepped back as they came -up, and Thomas said: - -“It is a parcel for Miss Trevennon.” - -Margaret turned and held out her hand for it. - -“Where from?” she said. - -“From the Arlington, Miss,” replied the man, in evident trepidation. -“I’m very sorry, Miss, but there’s been a mistake. It was to have been -sent this morning, but it has been such a busy day that it has been -forgotten. Mr. Decourcy left particular orders, and I hope you’ll be -kind enough to excuse the delay, Miss.” - -Margaret turned the parcel so as to get the light from the hall -gas upon it. As she did so, her expression changed quickly. It was -addressed to Mrs. Vere. - -“There is some mistake,” she said, coldly, with a certain high turn of -the head that Louis knew. “This is not for me.” - -The poor negro, who was perhaps somewhat the worse for the wine -remnants left by the Arlington’s Christmas guests, was overwhelmed with -confusion, and, quickly extending the other package, explained that he -had made a mistake between the two, and asked Miss Trevennon rather -helplessly to see if this one was not addressed to herself. - -It proved to be so; and though, under the circumstances, Margaret -would have preferred not to touch it, she was compelled to take it and -dismiss the man, which she did somewhat curtly. - -She did not examine her parcel until she reached her own room, and -even then she tossed it on the bed, and removed her wraps and hat and -put them away before she untied the string which bound it. Once she -thought she would put it out of sight until to-morrow, but, despite her -disfavor toward the giver, she had a young lady’s natural curiosity as -to the gift, and so she presently took it up and untied it. A little -note fell out. It was dated Christmas morning at nine, and ran: - - “I am just leaving for Baltimore, under a pledge to spend to-day with - Amy and the children. I have been more than disappointed--_hurt_ at - missing you, both when I called and at the theatre last evening. I did - not know you had been present, until I heard it by accident, after we - had left. It had not at all entered into my calculations to forego the - pleasure of taking leave of you in person, and I propose to get the - better of fate by returning in a day or two for this purpose. - - “Merry Christmas, dear Daisy, and all good wishes for the coming year! - Who knows what it may have in store for us? - - “Wear my little present sometimes for the sake of yours devotedly, A. - D.” - -“So much for note number one!” said Margaret. “It would be interesting -to have a glance at note number two, which I have no doubt is equally -tender and gracious.” - -She took up the little leather case and opened it, revealing a -beautiful locket. In spite of herself, she could not withhold a tribute -to her cousin’s taste. The workmanship and design of this little -ornament were so effective and so uncommon that she felt sure Alan -must have gone to some trouble about it, and most likely had it made -expressly for her. - -“He _is_ kind,” she said, regretfully. “It _was_ good of him to go -back to Baltimore, in order that Amy and the children should not be -disappointed. I almost wish I had not made this new discovery about -him; but no, no, no! It would have been dreadful to be ignorant of the -real truth of the matter.” - -It occurred to her now to open the locket and, on doing so, her -cousin’s high-bred face looked out. The very sight of it made her -recoil inwardly. How well she remembered the look of these same eyes, -as they had been bent upon Mrs. Vere, with an expression she would -have liked to forget. What right had he to expect her to wear his -picture? Why should she? - -He had sent another note and another present elsewhere. Was there -another picture, which some one else had been gracefully urged to wear, -for the sake of hers devotedly? It was more than probable! - -“I half believe I begin to understand him,” she said to herself, -indignantly. “It is one of his sage and correct opinions that a man -should marry, but all the same a man wants his little diversions. Under -these circumstances he had better marry an amiable, easy-going young -thing, who is healthy and cheerful, who knows nothing of the world, and -who will leave him to pursue his little diversions undisturbed. It is -perfectly humiliating! I will return his locket, for the very sight of -it would always sting me.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - -Mr. Somers came promptly at eleven, the next morning, and Margaret -received him in the drawing-room alone. She had given orders that she -should be denied to any early visitors who might be coming in, and was -resolved that she would be just and patient with the young man, though -she was also resolved that the nature of their relationship should be -definitely settled and understood, during this interview. - -They had not been seated long when Margaret heard Louis Gaston’s voice -speaking to a servant in the hall. She looked up in surprise, as she -had supposed him to be at his office an hour ago. He came in, with his -overcoat on, and his hat in his hand, and when Margaret presented him -to Mr. Somers he cordially offered him his disengaged hand. Margaret -was struck with the contrast between the two general exteriors, as -she had been the night before, but she was not a whit ashamed of her -old friend. She told herself that no man with eyes in his head could -fail to see that Somers was a gentleman, and, for the rest, it did not -matter. - -“I learned from my sister-in-law,” said Louis, addressing Mr. Somers, -“that Miss Trevennon was receiving a visit from a friend from home; and -Mrs. Gaston has authorized me to come and engage you for dinner to-day, -if you have no other appointment. I hope you will be able to come.” - -Margaret, glancing at Mr. Somers, was distressed to see that he looked -decidedly ungracious. She saw, by his manner, that he suspected that -this smooth-spoken Yankee was going to patronize him, though nothing -could have been franker and less patronizing than Gaston’s whole -bearing. - -“Thank you,” Mr. Somers answered, rather curtly, “I have another -engagement.” - -Louis expressed the hope that he would give them another day while he -was in Washington, and asked for his address, saying that he would call -upon him. - -Mr. Somers, having a hazy impression that to hand his card was the -proper thing, and not wishing to be outdone in _savoir-faire_, fumbled -in his pocket and produced a tumbled envelope, out of which he drew -a visiting-card of imposing proportions. Margaret glanced at it -quickly, and saw, to her horror, that it was printed! In the midst of -a wide expanse of tinted pasteboard was inscribed _C. R. Somers_, in -aggressive German type. She smiled to herself, as she made a swift -mental comparison between this card and another--a pure-white little -affair, with _Mr. Louis Gaston_ engraved on it in quiet script. She -knew well what Gaston was thinking of Charley, as he waited quietly -while the latter wrote his address and handed him the cumbrous card -with rather a bad grace, and she knew as well what Charley, as he -scribbled off the street, and number of his friend’s house, was -thinking of Mr. Gaston. It was all very absurd, and she could not help -feeling and perhaps looking amused. - -Louis lingered to make a few more friendly overtures, but these were -so loftily received by Mr. Somers that he soon found it best to take -leave, and, with a pleasant “_Au revoir_” to both, he turned and left -the room. - -“A French-talking, phrase-turning dandy!” said Charley, as soon as his -back was turned. “I wonder that you can tolerate such a man, Margaret.” - -“It would be interesting to ascertain his opinion of you,” returned -Margaret. “If he puts no higher estimate on your conduct on this -occasion than I do, perhaps it is as well for us to remain in ignorance -of it.” - -“And do you suppose I care one penny for his opinion? If you do, you -are much mistaken. I was obliged to give my address when he asked for -it, but I hope he’ll not trouble himself to call. I have no desire to -improve his acquaintance.” - -“And yet you might find it not only pleasant but profitable,” said -Margaret. “There are many things that you might, with great benefit, -learn from him.” - -“Upon my word, Margaret, this is a little too much,” exclaimed Somers. -“You have abandoned and repudiated your own people in a very short -while, when you can talk of my learning from a conceited Yankee fop -like that.” - -“It isn’t the first time I’ve advised you to take lessons from the -Yankees,” said Margaret; “and as to Mr. Gaston’s being conceited, -I really think he’s less so than you are, Charley, though he knows -much more. As to his being a Yankee--well, yes, he is a Yankee, as we -should say, and he’s a very capable and accomplished one. And as to the -third point, of his being a dandy, you know very well he is simply a -remarkably well-dressed man, whose appearance in your heart you admire, -in spite of your tall talking. But what’s the use of all this? It -isn’t dress, nor nationality, nor deportment even, that makes the man. -Superficially, you two are very unlike, but I think the discrepancy as -to your real natures is by no means so great. You are a pair of true -and honorable gentlemen at heart--at least, I believe Mr. Gaston to be -such, and I know you are, Charley.” - -She spoke in a tone of great gentleness for she knew that, before this -interview ended, she must say words which would bruise his poor heart -cruelly, and it was a kind and honest heart, which had long cherished -for her a true and steadfast devotion By degrees she led him on to a -quieter mood, and spoke to him gravely and earnestly of their future -lives--his and hers--which, as she gently tried to show him, must needs -lie apart. He had heard her utter these sad words before, but there was -a difference--an absolute resolve in looks and tones that compelled him -to realize that this time they were final. And yet she had never been -so gentle and so kind. - -“I think too highly of you, Charley,” she said, when their interview -was drawing to a close, “to believe that you will let this feeling for -me ruin your life. There is so much a man may do! The very thought of -it is tantalizing to a woman sometimes. Oh, Charley, be in earnest. It -is all you lack. Do something--no matter what, so it is _work_, and do -it faithfully and well. I think that, in itself, would make you almost -happy. But don’t think about happiness. Indeed, I think that does not -signify so very much. Think only of filling your place in the world and -doing your duty to God and man, and happiness will come of itself.” - -When she sent him from her at last, the hope which had until now lived -in his bosom was quite, quite dead, never to revive again; and yet, -with the relinquishment of that hope, a new life seemed to spring up -within him, which made him resolve, before he left her presence, that -he would win her approval though he could never win her love. He knew -he could not feel that he had ever possessed her entire approbation, -and it was well worth striving for--better, he said to himself, -as many another good man has said, in those first moments of sad -renunciation, than another woman’s love. - -That evening Charley Somers formed a sudden resolution. He would not go -back to the South and the old stagnating life, which had already made -its sad impress upon his mind and character. He would set out at once -to South America, to join some resolute fellows who were friends of -his, who had gone to seek their fortunes, and had often urged him to -come to them. He did not see Margaret again, but wrote her a manly note -of farewell, over which she shed tears enough to have recalled him from -the ends of the earth, if, by ill-luck, he could have seen them. - -It happened that Louis Gaston, chancing to meet her on her way to her -room with this letter, which she had just been reading, open in her -hand, saw her tearful eyes and pale, distressed face; he further noted -traces of weeping that would have escaped a superficial observer, when -she appeared at dinner an hour later. He could not help associating -these signs with Mr. Somers, and when he took occasion to mention -the latter’s name, in speaking to Mrs. Gaston after dinner, he was -scarcely surprised when she informed him that she had heard, through -Margaret, that Mr. Somers had already left for South America, to be -gone indefinitely. - -“He goes to seek his fortune,” said Mrs. Gaston; “therefore I say his -return is indefinite.” - -“And if he finds it,” said Louis Gaston to himself, “and the girl he -loves consents to share it with him, a man might well envy him. And if -she consents not, what will the fortune avail him? It may be that she -has already consented! Most likely the sweet pledge has been given, -and he goes to seek his fortune with the knowledge that her hopes and -fears are entwined about him. What mightn’t a man accomplish with such -a reward as his in view?” - -These reflections passed through his mind, as he sat quietly on one -side of the room watching Miss Trevennon as she sat talking to his -brother, only her fair, sweet profile turned toward him, and a slightly -distressed look on her face, which his searching eyes alone discovered. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - -A few days after Christmas, as Margaret was in her room, writing one -of her frequent long letters home, Mr. Decourcy’s card was brought to -her. It was with a strong feeling of reluctance that she went down to -him, and she stopped at Mrs. Gaston’s door, hoping her cousin would -accompany her. Mrs. Gaston, however, was lying on the lounge, reading -a novel, and she declared herself to be too tired to stir; so Margaret -was obliged to go down alone. - -After her first impulse had died away, she had concluded to keep the -locket, as she felt she had no reason to take so extreme a step as to -return it. Nothing, however, would induce her to wear Alan Decourcy’s -picture, and that she meant to let him know. - -It was the first time that Margaret had spoken to her cousin since -witnessing the scene with Mrs. Vere in the conservatory, and the -recollection of that scene necessarily threw a certain amount of -constraint into her manner. - -Not observing this, however, Mr. Decourcy came toward her, with some -words of ardent greeting, and when she extended her hand he made a -motion to raise it to his lips. With a movement that was almost rough -in its suddenness, Margaret snatched her hand away. - -“Margaret! What can this mean?” said Decourcy, in a tone of surprised -reproach. - -Miss Trevennon gave a little, constrained laugh. - -“I don’t like that sort of thing,” she said, lightly. “Don’t do it -again. It’s unpleasant to me.” - -“Forgive me,” he answered, with the utmost gentleness, untinged by any -shade of pique. “I beg your pardon. I am very sorry.” - -“Oh, never mind! It doesn’t matter,” said Margaret, hurriedly. “Thank -you so much for the locket, Alan. It is lovely--far lovelier than I -have any idea of, I dare say, for I am so ignorant about such things.” - -“I hoped it would please you,” he said. “You saw the picture I ventured -to put in it? And will you consent to wear it?” - -“I don’t know about that,” she said, somewhat uneasily. “It was very -kind of you to put it in, but I never have worn any one’s picture. I -know you’re a cousin, and all that, but I think, if you don’t mind, -I’ll take the picture out and put it----” - -But he interrupted her. - -“It isn’t because I am your cousin, Margaret, that I want you to wear -my picture,” he said. “On the contrary, I hope for the time when you -will forget that relationship in a nearer and tenderer one----” - -“Alan! Stop. You must not go on,” said Margaret, with sudden vehemence. -“There can be no thought of a nearer relationship between us at -any time. If we are to be friends at all, this subject must not be -mentioned again.” - -“Forgive me; I have startled you,” he said. “I meant not to do that. I -do not want to constrain you or to force this hope of mine upon you too -suddenly, but I cannot lightly give it up. It has been with me, during -all my wanderings to and fro--if not the definite hope, at least an -appreciation of the fact that my sweet cousin was endowed, more than -any woman whom I had known, with all the attributes and qualities a -man could desire in his companion for life. I cannot, even yet, quite -abandon the hope that I may yet induce you to accept my devotion.” - -Margaret might have borne the rest, but this word galled her. - -“Devotion!” she said mockingly, with a little scornful laugh. “Oh, -Alan!” - -“What do you mean? Why should you speak to me in that tone? It is -unfair, Margaret. It is not like you.” - -“I mean,” she said, growing grave, and speaking with a sudden, earnest -vehemence, “that you degrade the word devotion, when you call the -feeling you have to offer me by that name. I know too well what real -devotion means. I have too just an estimate of its goodness and -strength to call the cool regard you have for me devotion! A cool -regard between cousins does well enough, but that feeling in connection -with marriage is another thing, and I had better tell you, here and -now, that I would live my life out unloved and alone, sooner than I -would wrong myself by accepting such a counterfeit devotion as this -that you offer me.” - -Decourcy, who was, of course, entirely ignorant of the ground on which -Margaret’s strong feeling was based, heard her with amazement. The only -explanation that suggested itself was that some one, who happened to be -aware of his rather well-known affair with Mrs. Vere, had informed his -cousin. It was, therefore, with a tone of injured gentleness, that he -said: - -“Margaret, you surprise and grieve me inexpressibly by such words as -those. I can only account for them by the possibility of some one’s -having given you false ideas about me. There are always people to do -these things, unfortunately,” he went on, with a little sigh of patient -resignation; “but you should have hesitated before believing a story to -my disadvantage. I would have been more just to you.” - -“There has been no story told,” said Margaret. “If there were any -stories to tell, they have been kept from me. Do not let us pursue this -topic, Alan, and when we drop it now, let it be forever. It is quite -out of the question that we can ever be more to each other than we are -now.” - -“As you have said it,” he replied, “my only course is a silent -acquiescence. Painful and disappointing as such a decision is to me, -since it is your decision I have no word to say against it. But with -regard to the lightness and insincerity you have charged me with, I -have a right to speak and I must.” - -Reassured by Margaret’s assertion that no one had maligned him to her, -he felt strong to defend himself, and it was, therefore, in the most -urgent tone that he said: - -“I feel it hard, Margaret, very hard, that you should harbor such -opinions of me, when my thoughts of you have been all tenderness and -trust. Was it not enough that you should deprive me, at one blow, of -the hope that I have cherished as my dearest wish for the future, -without adding to the bitterness of that disappointment, the still -keener one of feeling that I must endure your contempt?” - -There was no doubt of his earnestness now. He was fired by a genuine -interest, and he longed to recover the good opinion of this spirited, -high-souled girl more than he had longed for anything for years. - -“You were never unreasonable, Margaret,” he went on, “and therefore I -feel sure I may rely upon you to give me your reasons for this change -toward me--for you will not deny that you are changed.” - -“Why talk about it, Alan? I like you very well. I suppose you’re -as much to be believed in as other men. The mistake I made was in -supposing you to be superior to them. You would not like the idea of -being on a pedestal, I know; so be content, and let us say no more -about the matter.” - -“Excuse me, if I cannot consent,” he answered, gravely. “It is no light -matter to me to lose your regard; and when you remember that I have -long hoped to make you my wife, some day, I think you will feel that -that fact creates an indebtedness on your part to me, and gives me the -right to demand an explanation from you.” - -His tone of conscious rectitude and the reproachful sadness of the eyes -he turned upon her, made Margaret so indignant and angry that she said, -with some heat: - -“We are playing a farce, Alan, and it had better come to an end. I -am perfectly willing to accord you all the credit you deserve. You -are a charming man of the world,” she added, falling into a lighter -tone, “and I admire your manners immensely. I am perfectly willing -to continue to be on good terms with you, but there must be certain -limitations to our friendship. I could not consent to a return to the -old intimacy, and you must not expect it.” - -“But why?” he said, urgently. “I insist that you tell me. Margaret, -remember how important this is to me; remember how I love you!” - -And in a certain way his words were true. He felt himself, at this -moment, really in love. Now that he found himself likely to lose her, -this handsome, spirited, honest-hearted girl, grew inestimably more -dear to him. He longed to be able to control her--to settle it, then -and there, that she was to be his own. So it was with the fire of real -feeling in his eyes that he drew nearer and eagerly sought her averted -gaze, and even ventured to take her hand. But the moment she met -that look, and felt that touch, Margaret sprang to her feet and half -involuntarily took her position behind a large chair, where she stood, -resting upon its high back and looking at him with an expression of -defiant scorn. - -“Margaret,” he said, rising too, and bending upon her again that eager -look that galled her so, “do you shrink from my mere look and touch? -There must be a reason for your manner, and that reason I must and will -know.” - -“You shall!” she answered, excitedly, unable to bear his tone of -injured superiority any longer. “I witnessed a scene between you and -Mrs. Vere in the conservatory at the ball that night, that made me -despise you. It revealed your true nature to me, at a glance, and I -am glad of it. I should not have spoken of it. I could have managed -to hold my peace and meet you calmly as a casual acquaintance; but -that you would not have. But when you presume to offer me what you -are pleased to call your devotion, with the memory of that scene in -my mind, I can be silent no longer. And now,” she went on, after an -instant’s pause, “I have spoken, and we understand each other. Let the -whole subject be dropped just here, forever.” - -She had avoided looking at him, as she spoke, and even now she -hesitated to meet his eyes. There was a moment’s deep stillness, and -then, to the relief of both, Cousin Eugenia’s silken robes were heard -sweeping down the staircase. - -She entered, and the room’s whole atmosphere changed. Her graceful -toilet, well-turned phrases and studious correctness of demeanor, -recalled the usages of the world in which they lived, and Margaret -and Decourcy resumed their seats and began to talk of snow-storms and -sleigh-rides, following Cousin Eugenia’s lead. - -When Margaret presently glanced at Mr. Decourcy, she saw that he was -very pale, but that was all. He had never been more self-possessed. - -When he rose to go, Mrs. Gaston, seeing that something was amiss, -discreetly walked over to the window for a moment, and Decourcy, -taking a step toward Margaret, said in a low tone: - -“You have been very hard to me, Margaret, and have judged me hastily. -The time may come when you will see that it is so, and for that time I -shall wait.” - -He said good-bye then, without offering his hand, and Margaret, to her -amazement, found herself feeling like a culprit. There was such an air -of gentle magnanimousness about Mr. Decourcy, that it made her feel -quite contrite. In exciting which sensation Mr. Decourcy had obtained -exactly the result he had aimed at. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - -It was two evenings prior to the day fixed for Miss Trevennon’s -return to her home. January, with its multifarious engagements, had -passed, and February was well advanced. It had been a very happy time -to Margaret, and, now that her visit was almost at an end, she found -herself much prone to reverie, and constantly falling into quiet fits -of musing. There was much pleasant food for thought in looking back, -but an instinct constantly warned her against looking forward. - -On this particular evening, Miss Trevennon and Louis Gaston were alone. -Cousin Eugenia had gone to her room, and General Gaston was out. -Margaret had observed that she quite often found herself alone with -Mr. Gaston lately, and she even fancied sometimes that Cousin Eugenia -contrived to have it so. She smiled to think of the multiplicity of -Cousin Eugenia’s little manœuvres, and the book she had been reading -fell to her lap. She glanced toward Louis, sitting some little distance -off at the other side of the fire-place; but he was quite lost to view -behind the opened sheet of the _Evening Star_. So Miss Trevennon fixed -her eyes on the fire, and fell into a fit of musing. - -She was looking her best to-night. There had been guests at dinner, -and she was dressed accordingly. Black suited her better than anything -else, and the costume of black silk and lace which she wore now was -exquisitely becoming. Her rounded, slender arms were bare, and a snowy -patch of her lovely neck was visible above the lace of her square -corsage. Her long black draperies fell richly away to one side, over -the Turkey rug, and as she rested lightly on the angle of her little -high heel, with one foot, in its dainty casing of black silk stocking -and low-cut slipper, lightly laid across the other, her graceful, easy -attitude and elegant toilet made her a striking figure, apart from the -distinguished beauty of her face. Louis Gaston, who had noiselessly -lowered his paper, took in every detail of face, figure, attitude and -costume, with a sense of keen appreciation, and, as he continued to -look, a sudden smile of merriment curved his lips. Miss Trevennon, -looking up, met this smile, and smiled in answer to it. - -“What is it?” she said. “What were you thinking of?” - -“May I tell you?” he asked, still smiling. - -“Yes; please do.” - -“I was recalling the fact that, when you first arrived--before I had -seen you--I used to speak of you to Eugenia as ‘The Importation.’ It is -no wonder that I smile now at the remembrance.” - -“It was very impertinent, undoubtedly,” said Margaret; “but I won’t -refuse to forgive you, if you, in your turn, will agree to forgive me -my impertinences, which have been many.” - -“It would be necessary to recall them first,” he said, “and that I am -unable to do.” - -“I have been dictatorial and critical and aggressive, and I have had no -right to be any of these. I have magnified my own people persistently, -in talking to you, and depreciated yours. You mustn’t take me as a -specimen of Southern courtesy. Wait till you see my father. I’m a -degenerate daughter.” - -“I hope I may see him some time. Knowing you has made me wish to know -your people better. If I ask you, some day, to let me come and make -their acquaintance, what will you say?” - -“Come, and welcome,” said Margaret, heartily; and then, as a -consciousness of the warmth of her tone dawned upon her, she added: -“We are a hospitable race, you know, and hold it a sacred duty to -entertain strangers. But I fear you would find us disappointing in a -great many ways. In so many points, and these very essential ones, we -are inferior to you. If only we could both get rid of our prejudices! -Just think what a people we might be, if we were kneaded together, -each willing to assimilate what is best in the other! But I suppose -that is a Utopian dream. As far as my small observation goes, it seems -to me that we in the South see things on a broader basis, and that a -gentleman’s claim to meet another gentleman on equal terms rests upon -something higher and stronger than trifling technicalities such as -using printed visiting-cards, or calling a dress-coat ‘a swallow-tail,’ -for instance!” she said, with twinkling eyes. “I know you’ve had those -two scores against my compatriots on your mind. Now, haven’t you?” - -“I will wipe them off instantly, if I have,” he said, laughing. “I feel -amiably disposed to-night. I think it is the prospect of your departure -that has softened me. I hope you are one little bit sorry to leave -us. It would be but a small return for the colossal regret we feel at -parting from you.” - -“I am sorry,” she said, with her eyes fixed on the fire--“very, very -sorry.” - -“Really?” he said quickly, not daring to give voice to the delight -with which her fervently uttered admission filled him. - -“Yes, really. You have all been so good to me. I think General Gaston -has even decided to forgive me for being a Southerner, since I could -not possibly help it, which is a higher tribute than the regard of -Cousin Eugenia and yourself, perhaps, as you had no prejudices to -overcome.” - -“You have paid me the greatest possible compliment,” said Louis. “I -would rather you should say that than anything, almost. You must admit, -however, that at one time you would not have said it.” - -“That is quite true; but I think now that I did you injustice.” - -“No, I don’t think you did. It was true at one time that I was very -prejudiced, and to a certain extent it is true yet; but you’ve worked -wonders with me, Miss Trevennon. I do think I see things more fairly -than I did. I had a great deal of hereditary and inherent prejudice to -overcome, and I think I have got rid of a good portion of it, thanks -to you! Who knows but, if you could have kept me near you, you might -have reformed me yet? Of course, I should not venture to criticise a -decision of yours, but when Eugenia urged you so, the other day, to -stay a month longer, do you know, I almost held my breath to hear what -you would say? And your positive refusal quite cut me. It’s rather hard -on a man, to learn that his education is to be cut short at one fell -blow like that; and I am in horrible fear of retrogression.” - -“Oh, don’t laugh at me, Mr. Gaston,” said Margaret, rather confusedly. -“I am afraid I must often have seemed to you conceited and pert. I -believe I am, a little. Even my dear father tells me so, now and then.” - -“How you love your home and your parents!” said Louis, looking at her -very gently. “I have so often observed it. Is it a provincial trait? I -never saw a stronger feeling than the one you have for your household -gods.” - -“Yes, I do love them,” Margaret said; “and I can give no stronger proof -of it than that Cousin Eugenia’s invitation does not tempt me to -remain longer away from them.” - -“And do they love you very much--or not?” he asked, looking into her -face and smiling brightly. - -“Oh yes,” she answered, smiling too; “as if I were perfection.” - -“I almost think you are,” he replied. “I said to myself, from the -first, ‘She is well-named Margaret, for she’s just a pearl.’” - -Simply and quietly as he said it, there was something in his tone that -thrilled her with a sudden emotion. She dared not raise her eyes to -his, and so she turned away her flushed face as she answered, with an -effort to speak as usual: - -“I am named for my mother. Papa calls me Daisy, to distinguish us.” - -“I think that suits you almost as well,” he said. “Your feelings are -so fresh--not a whiff of their perfume brushed away yet. What a thing -it would be for one of the careworn, weary worldlings one meets every -day, to have your heart in her bosom for just one hour! And oh, what -a revelation of falseness and hollowness and envy it would be to you -to see into a heart like that! God protect you from it, Margaret! I am -almost glad that you are going back to that quiet old country-place. -It gives me a pang merely to think of the possibility of your being -contaminated by the world. I could not bear to face the thought that -the pearl might lose its pureness and the daisy wither. I have tried -that no one shall suspect the fact, but you don’t know how I have -watched over you. It was presumptuous of me, perhaps, but now that you -know it, do you forgive me?” - -Poor Margaret! She made a brave struggle for self-mastery, but it was -only half successful. Apart from his words, there was something in his -looks and tones that made what he had said a revelation to her. There -could be but one meaning in those fervent, tender eyes, and the sound -of the caressing voice. - -“You once refused to shake hands with me,” Louis went on, presently. -“Do you remember? I was in disgrace then, but I can’t help hoping I’m -restored. Will you give me your hand now, in token of full pardon for -the past?” - -He had taken a seat very near to her, and when he extended his hand she -laid hers in it, without moving from her place. He held it close, for -an instant, and then, stooping, laid his lips upon it. - -Margaret suffered the caress in silence. She felt nerveless and -irresponsible, but her whole nature responded to these signs of -tenderness from him. She knew his heart was seeking hers, which was -ready to answer, at a touch. She felt confused and tremulous, but very -happy and contented and safe, and when she presently withdrew her -hand from Louis’, she gave him, in its stead, a look of the deepest -confidence and kindness. - -“There is something I want to tell you, Margaret----” he began, and -while she was almost holding her breath to listen, the sound of -General Gaston’s key was heard in the lock, and, with a quick motion, -they moved apart. - -As Louis stood up and turned to meet his brother, Margaret sank back in -her seat with a quick sigh. The interruption was almost a relief. The -sharp strain of this new-born hope and doubt and wonder was a pain to -her, and she was glad to wait. The joy that had been thus held out to -her was still to be secured, and she felt a happy safety in the bright -future before her. - -As for Louis, his pulses thrilled with triumphant hope. All his doubts -and misgivings melted like snow beneath the sweet, confiding looks -and tones that Margaret had vouchsafed to him this evening. He forgot -Charley Somers and all his old mistrust concerning him, and felt happy -in the present and almost secure of the future. His ardent blood was -stirred as it had never been before. If Mrs. Gaston could have looked -into his heart to-night, she could never again have called him cold and -unemotional! - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - -Ames & Gaston had been awarded the designs for some important -buildings, to be erected at a distance of a few miles from Washington, -and it was in connection with this matter that Louis Gaston, the -morning after the interview with Miss Trevennon, just recorded, stepped -into a street-car which was to take him within a short distance of the -site of these buildings. - -As he glanced around on entering, he met the smiling and enticing gaze -of Mrs. Vere. There was a vacant seat beside her, but he did not choose -to take it. His mind, since last night’s episode, had been full of -memories and anticipations with which the very thought of Mrs. Vere was -discordant. So he merely raised his hat, in answer to her greeting, and -seated himself at some distance from her, near the door, turning his -face to the window. But, as the car went on toward the suburbs, the -passengers gradually departed, and he presently became aware of the -fact that only Mrs. Vere and himself remained. Even then his aversion -to an interview with her, in his present mood, was so strong that he -kept his place, choosing to ignore the fact of their being left alone -together. In a very few minutes, however, Mrs. Vere crossed to his -side, saying, with an airy little laugh: - -“As the mountain won’t come to Mahomet----” - -Louis, of course, turned at once and resigned himself to the inevitable -interview. - -“To what fortunate circumstance am I to attribute the honor of Mrs. -Vere’s society, so far outside the pale of civilization?” he said, -adopting the bantering tone he usually made use of in talking to Mrs. -Vere, in order to veil his real feeling. - -“I am going out to see the Temples,” she replied; “I shall have to walk -from the terminus. It’s such a nuisance having no carriage, and I’m -sure I think I deserve one--don’t you? But what brings you out so far -during business hours?” - -“Business,” answered Gaston. “I am going to spy out the land for a new -building enterprise.” - -“What sort of building enterprise? I should say a charming cottage, -suitable for a pair of domestic neophytes, designed by the architect -for his own occupancy, if it were not that a dishevelled young -Southerner, with an eccentric tailor and a beautiful voice, stands -in the way of that idea! I’m afraid Miss Trevennon, for all her -gentleness, must be rather cruel; for, judging by superficial -evidences, she has beguiled the wary Mr. Gaston to the point of a -futile hankering after Mr. Somers’ place. I suppose she has had the -conscience to tell you she’s engaged.” - -“Miss Trevennon?” said Louis, meeting her searching gaze without -flinching, though his heart gave a great leap and then seemed to stand -still. “She has not made me her confidant as to her matrimonial -intentions; but if what you say is true, young Somers is a man I well -might envy, whether I do or not.” - -He hated the idea of seeming to discuss Margaret with this woman, and -yet he was burning to hear more. He asked no questions, feeling sure -that he could become possessed of whatever information Mrs. Vere had, -without that concession on his part. - -“Oh, there’s no doubt about its being true,” went on Mrs. Vere. “I -happen to know the Welfords, the people Mr. Somers stayed with, very -well. Mrs. Welford told me all about it. It seems this young fellow is -troubled with a certain degree of impecuniosity, and he had received -an offer from some people in South America to come out and join them -in some business enterprise, and so he came on at once to consult Miss -Trevennon; and it was agreed between them that he should go. The plan -is that he is to return a millionnaire and marry her. I wonder she -hasn’t told you.” - -“Why should she? Ladies are apt to be reserved about such matters, -however garrulous a man may think proper to be, and Mr. Somers, for -one, seems to have been sufficiently communicative.” - -“Oh, I suppose he only told Mrs. Welford, and she only told me. You -must consider it confidential.” - -“Certainly,” replied Louis; “but here is the terminus, and we must -abandon our equipage.” - -He walked with her as far as the Temples’ place, which was a very short -distance off, and then he bowed and left her with unbroken serenity. - -Mrs. Vere was a woman who, in point of fact, was by no means incapable -of deep duplicity, but in the present instance she had been guilty only -of stating as facts what Mrs. Welford had told her more in the form of -conjectures. She had happened to meet Somers at this friend’s house -one evening, and had introduced the topic of Miss Trevennon, adroitly -plying the young man with questions, and had satisfied herself that he -was certainly in love with and probably engaged to her. On this basis -she and Mrs. Welford had constructed the story which she told with such -confidence to Gaston. - -As for Louis, he made but little headway with his estimates and -prospecting that morning. His first impulse had been to disbelieve -this story, and the remembrance of Margaret’s looks and tones as he -had talked with her last night made it seem almost incredible. But -then, as he looked back into the past, he recalled the incident of -the pressed flower, and the emotion Margaret had shown on hearing Mr. -Somers sing that Christmas night, and the long interview that followed -next morning, and, more than all, the traces of tears he had afterward -detected; and, as he thought of all these things, his heart grew very -heavy. - -He soon resolved that he would go at once to Margaret, and learn the -truth from her own lips. - -When he reached the house, he found Thomas engaged in polishing the -brasses of the front door, which stood partly open. Being informed -by him that Miss Trevennon was in the drawing-room alone, he stepped -softly over the carpeted hall and entered the library. From there he -could see Margaret, seated on a low ottoman before the fire, her hands -clasped around her knees, and her eyes fixed meditatively upon the -glowing coals. How his young blood leaped at the sight of her! How -lovely and gentle she looked! Was she not the very joy of his heart, -and delight of his eyes? Where was another like her? - -He stood a moment silently observing her, and then he cautiously drew -nearer, treading with great care, and shielding himself behind a large -screen that stood at one side of the fire-place. In this way he was -able to come very near without having his approach suspected. He meant -to get very close and then to speak her name, and see if he could call -up again the sweet, almost tender regard with which she had looked at -him last night. Somehow, he felt sure that he should see that look -again. He had half forgotten Charley Somers and Mrs. Vere. He kept -his position in silence a moment. It was a joy just to feel himself -near her, and to know that by just putting out his hand he might touch -her. His eager gaze was fixed upon her fair, sweet profile, and sought -the lovely eyes which were still gazing into the fire. He could see -their musing, wistful look, and, as he began to wonder what it meant, -those gentle eyes became suffused with tears. He saw them rise and -fill and overflow the trembling lids, and fall upon a letter in her -lap. At sight of that letter his heart contracted, and a sudden pallor -over-spread his face. He had been so uncontrollably drawn to her that, -in another moment, the burning words of love must have been spoken, -and the eager arms outstretched to clasp her to his heart. But this -letter was in a man’s handwriting, and his keen eyes detected the South -American stamp on the envelope. His blood seemed to congeal within him, -and his face grew hard and cold. - -He stepped backward, with an effort to escape, but his wits seemed -to have deserted him; he stumbled against a chair, and, at the sound, -Margaret looked up. Oh, _why_ were his eyes so blindly turned away -from her? _Why_ did he not see that ardent, happy look with which she -recognized him? Surely it was all and more than memory pictured it! -Surely then he must have known, beyond a doubt, that her whole heart -bade him welcome! - -But he would not look at her. He turned to make his way out, as he had -come, pausing merely to ask, with resolutely averted eyes: - -“Excuse me, but can you tell me where Eugenia is?” - -“In her dressing-room, I think,” said Margaret, in a voice that, in -spite of her, was husky. - -“I want to speak to her,” he said, and, without another word or look, -he walked away. - -Poor Margaret! Her heart was sore and troubled at the sad words of -Charley Somers’ note. In her own state of happiness and hope, they -struck her as a thousand times more touching. She felt restless -and uneasy, and she would have given much for some slight sign of -protecting care and tenderness from Louis. She was ready to relinquish -everything for him. She knew that he could make up to her for the loss -of all else; but although he must have seen that she was troubled, he -could bear to leave her with that air of cold composure! A dreadful -doubt and uncertainty seized upon her, and she went to her room feeling -lonely and dispirited. - -There was to be a large ball that night, and it was not until Margaret -came down to dinner, and observed that Mr. Gaston’s place was vacant, -that she learned from Cousin Eugenia that he had excused himself from -both dinner and the ball. She did not ask for any explanation, and Mrs. -Gaston only said that she supposed he had work to finish. No one took -any special heed of his absence, but Margaret remembered that it was -her last dinner with them, and felt hurt that he should have absented -himself; the ball was suddenly bereft of all its delight. She knew -there was something wrong, and her heart sank at the thought that -there might be no opportunity for explanation between them. But then -she remembered the unfinished sentence that General Gaston’s entrance -had interrupted the night before, and she felt sure that all must come -right in the end. - -Animated by this strong conviction, and remembering that she would -not leave until late in the afternoon of the next day, she dressed -for the ball in a beautiful toilet of Cousin Eugenia’s contriving, -composed of white silk and swan’s-down, resolved to throw off these -fancied doubts and misgivings as far as possible. In spite of all, -however--though Cousin Eugenia went into ecstacies over her appearance, -and she had more suitors for her notice than she could have remembered -afterward--the evening was long and wearisome to her, and she was glad -when Cousin Eugenia came to carry her off rather early, in anticipation -of the fatigues of the next day. - -When they reached home there was a bright light in the library, and -Louis was sitting at the table writing. - -“Is that you, Louis?” said Mrs. Gaston, calling to him from the hall: -“Margaret must give you an account of the ball, for I am too utterly -worn out. Go, Margaret--and lest you should not mention it, I’ll -preface your account by saying that Miss Trevennon was, by all odds, -the beauty and belle of the occasion.” - -With these words she vanished up the staircase, whither her husband had -preceded her. - -Half glad and half timid, Margaret advanced toward the centre of the -room, and when Louis stood up to receive her, she could not help -observing how careworn and grave he looked. There was a troubled -expression in his face that touched her very much. Something had -happened since last night. She felt more than ever sure of it; and it -was something that had stirred him deeply. - -“I am glad the last ball was such a successful one,” he said, placing a -chair for her, and then, going over to the mantel, he stood and faced -her. - -“It was a beautiful ball,” said Margaret; “the rooms were exquisite.” - -“Were they supplied with mirrors?” he asked, folding his arms as he -looked down at her, steadily. - -“Mirrors? Oh yes; there were plenty of mirrors.” - -“And did you make use of them, I wonder, Miss Trevennon? Do you know -just how you look, in that beautiful soft gown, with the lovely white -fur around your neck and arms? I should fancy it might tempt one to the -mermaid fashion of carrying a mirror at the girdle.” - -He smiled as he spoke--a resolute, odd smile that had little merriment -in it. - -“What have you been doing, all this time?” she asked, wishing to lead -the conversation away from herself. - -“Working,” he answered; “writing letters--doing sums--drawing plans.” - -“How you love your work!” she said. - -“Yes, I love my work, thank God!” he answered, in a fervid tone. “It -has been my best friend all my life, and all my dreams for the future -are in it now.” - -“You love it almost too much, I think. It takes you away from -everything else. Do you mean to work in this way always? Have you no -other visions of the future?” - -“Oh, I have had visions!” he said, thrusting his hands into the -pockets of his sack-coat, and bracing himself against the end of the -mantel, while he looked at her steadily as he spoke. “I have had -visions--plenty of them! They mostly took the form of very simple, -quiet dreams of life; for I have already told you, Miss Trevennon, -by what a very demon of domesticity I am haunted. The sweetest -of all thoughts to me is that of home--a quiet life, with a dear -companion--that would be my happiness. Exterior things would be very -unimportant.” - -He seemed to rouse himself, as if from some sort of lethargy which he -dreaded, and, standing upright, he folded his arms across his breast, -and went on: - -“But if I had this vision once, I have put it from me now, and only the -old routine remains--business and reading and a half-hearted interest -in society. There is music, but that I mistrust; it brings the old -visions back, and shows me the loneliness of a life in which they can -have no part. So it is no wonder, is it, that I call my work my best -friend?” - -Poor, poor Margaret! Her heart sank lower and lower, and when he -finished with this calmly uttered question, a little shudder ran -through her. - -“I am cold,” she said, rising; “I must go.” - -He went and brought her white wrap from where she had thrown it on a -chair, and with one of his peculiarly protecting motions he threw it -around her. Then, gathering the soft folds in his hands on each side, -he drew them close across her breast, and held them so a moment, as he -said: - -“Yes, Margaret, you must go. And it is not for the night, nor for the -season, nor even for the year; it is forever. What would you say to me, -if you knew we were never to see each other again?” - -“Most likely we never shall,” she said, speaking in a cold, vacant way. - -“And what will you say to me? What will you give me to remember?” - -“I can only say good-bye,” she answered in the same dull tone. - -“Good-bye, then, Margaret. Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye; and may God -Almighty bless you,” he said, and she felt the hands that rested -against hers trembling. He looked long and searchingly into her face, -with a scrutinizing steady gaze, as if he would photograph upon his -mind its every line and feature. And then the light folds of her wrap -were loosened, his hands fell heavily to his side, and he stepped back -from her. - -Like a woman walking in her sleep she passed him, her long draperies -trailing heavily after her as she crossed the hall and began to -ascend the stairs. Her step was heavy and she moved slowly, and Louis, -watching her from below with eyes that were wild with longing and -lips that were stern with repression, held his breath in passionate -expectation that, as she turned at the bend of the stairs, she might -give him one last look. But her eyes, as the sweet profile came in -view, were looking straight before her, and the tall white-clad figure -was almost out of sight when, without willing it, without meaning -it, absolutely without knowing it, he arrested her by a hurried, -half-articulate call. - -“Margaret!” he cried, in a voice that seemed not to be his own, so -strange and altered was it. - -The weary figure paused, and she turned and looked down at him. A -little glimmer of the bright joy, which had been so lately smothered -out of life, shot up in her heart as she heard him call her name, but -when she looked at him, it died. He was standing with his arms folded -tightly together, and a look of the most rigid self-control in his -whole aspect. A man that loved her could never look at her like that, -she thought, and she felt at that instant, more than ever, that she had -deceived herself. Complete weariness seemed to master her. Her chief -feeling was that she was tired to death. What was the use of going back? - -“I have something to say to you,” said Louis, in a voice that was -colder than it had been yet. “Come back, for a moment only.” - -She was very weak, and it seemed easier to comply than to refuse; so, -very silently and slowly, Margaret retraced her steps. - -As the beautiful white vision drew nearer, step by step, the young -man’s whole heart and soul went out to meet her, but at the same moment -his physical frame retreated, and he withdrew into the room before -her, conscious only that he still held possession of himself, and -that the spirit within him was still master of the body. Long habit -had accustomed him to frequent renunciation. All these years he had -been resisting and overcoming, in smaller things, with the conscious -knowledge that he was thereby acquiring power which would enable him to -conquer when greater temptations should come. And now he knew that his -mightiest temptation was hard upon him. - -He pressed his arms tighter together across his breast, set his lips -and held his breath, as his temptation, clad in a wondrous long white -garment, wafting a sweet fragrance and waking a murmuring silken sound, -came near to him, and passed him by. - -When Margaret had actually moved away from him, and thrown herself -weakly into a low, deep chair, and he realized that his arms were -still folded, his lips still set, he drew in his breath, with a long -respiration that seemed to draw into his heart a mortal pain; and -he knew that his practice had stood him in good stead, and that his -strength had proved sufficient in his hour of need. - -It would have been only for a moment. All he wanted was to take her in -his arms an instant, and kiss her just once, and then he could have -let her go forever, and counted himself a happy man to have lived that -moment’s life. That was all; but that he felt himself in honor bound to -renounce, because he believed her to be pledged to another man. And he -had accomplished the renunciation; but now that this was so, he felt an -impatient rebellion against further discipline. The resistless torrent -of his love and despair rushed over him, and nothing should keep him -from speaking! Words could do her no harm, and there were words that -burnt upon his lips, whose utterance alone, it seemed to him, could -keep his brain from bursting. - -He opened his lips to speak, but the words refused to come. There was -a spell in the silence that he felt powerless to break. The room was -absolutely free from either sound or motion. Margaret had dropped her -weary body sideways in the cushioned chair, with her long white robe -sweeping behind her, and her face turned from him, so that only her -profile was in view. - -The young man stood and looked at her, possessed by the sense of her -nearness, enthralled by the spell of her beauty. He could see the rise -and fall of her bosom under its covering of silk and fur, and there -was a dejectedness in her attitude that made a passionate appeal to -his tenderness. She was very pale, and her lowered lids and a little -drooping at the corners of her mouth gave her lovely face a most -plaintive look. She was tired too; the inertness of the pliant figure, -with the motionless bare arms and relaxed, half-open hands, showed -that plainly enough. Fragile and slight and weary as she was, how -could she endure the battle of life alone, and who, of all men in the -world, could strive and struggle for her as he could? The thought of -her woman’s weakness was a keen delight to him at that moment. He had -never felt himself so strong. With a quick motion that emphasized his -thought, without interrupting the stillness, he threw out his right -arm and clinched his hand with a conscious pleasure in his strength. -Nerves and veins and muscles seemed to tingle with sentient animal -force. - -All these excited thoughts passed through his brain with lightning-like -swiftness, but now, at last, the silence was broken by a sound. It was -a very gentle one--a short, faint sigh from Margaret; but its effect -was powerful. It roused the young man from his absorption and recalled -him to reality. - -He sat down a little space away from her, and with his fervid eyes -fixed on her pale profile and lowered lids, began to speak. - -“It was an impulse, not a deliberate purpose, that made me call you -back,” he said. “I should perhaps have done better to let you go, but I -did not, and now you are here, and I am here, and we are alone in the -stillness together, Margaret, and you will have to listen to what I -have to say. I think you must know what it is. My efforts to keep the -truth out of my eyes when I looked at you, and out of my voice when I -spoke to you, have seemed to me miserable failures many a time, and I -dare say you have known it all along.” - -He paused a moment, still looking at her. There was not a quiver in -the still face pressed against the cushions, but at his last words the -beautiful arm was uplifted and laid against her cheek, hiding her face -from view, as the slim hand closed upon the top of the chair, above her -head. It was an attitude full of grace. The white wrap had fallen back, -leaving bare the lovely arms and shoulders, and revealing perfectly the -symmetry of the rounded figure. Although the face was hidden, he could -see every exquisite line and tint of it, in his mind’s eye, almost as -plainly as he saw, with his actual vision, the soft masses of hair -drawn back from the little shell-like ear, and the portion of white -cheek and throat which her screening arm did not conceal. - -In spite of strong repression, the hot blood overflowed the young man’s -bounding heart and sent a glow of dark color surging over his face. -Something--a little fluttered movement of the breast--revealed to his -confused consciousness that Margaret herself was not unmoved. He rose -and advanced toward her. - -“You know it,” he said; “but let me put into words the sweet, -despairing truth. I love you, Margaret. Oh, good and beautiful and true -and sweet, how could I choose but love you!” - -He dropped upon his knees before her, and in this low position he could -see her lovely, tremulous lips. At something in their expression a -sudden little flame of hope shot up in his heart. - -“Margaret,” he said, in a deep, commanding tone that was almost stern, -while all the time his hands were clinched together, so that he touched -not so much as the hem of her dress--“Margaret, look at me. Let me see -straight into your eyes.” - -There was no disobeying that tone, which he now used to her for the -first time. She felt herself mastered by it, and, lowering her arm, she -showed to him her loving eyes, her trembling lips, her entranced and -radiant face. Instantly his arms were around her, his lips to hers, in -an embrace so tender, a kiss so sweet, as can come only in that rare -union of freshness and completeness for which all the past lives of -these two young souls had been a preparation. - -“You were wrong. I did _not_ know,” she said, presently, breaking the -long silence and murmuring the words very softly in his ear. - -“Then you have been dull and blind and deaf, my darling, my darling, -my darling!” he said, lingering caressingly upon the repetition of the -poor little word, which is the best we have to convey the tenderest -message of our hearts. “Do you know it now, or do you need to have it -proved to you still further? Let me look at you.” - -But she would not lift her head from its safe and happy resting-place, -and her eyes refused to meet his until he said again: - -“Margaret,” in that stern, sweet voice which thrilled and conquered -her; and then she lifted up her eyes, and fixed them with a fervent -gaze on his. - -“God help me to deserve you, Margaret, my saint,” he murmured, as he -met that look of lovely exaltation. “It hurts me that you have to stoop -so far.” - -“I do not stoop,” she answered. “You have pointed me to heights I never -dreamed of. We will try to reach them together.” - - * * * * * - -Later, when their long talk, including the short explanation of their -misunderstanding, was over, and they were parting for the night, with -the blessed consciousness that they would meet to-morrow in the same -sweet companionship--with the thought in the mind of each that the -future was to be always together, never apart, Louis went with her into -the hall, to watch her again as she ascended the stairs. - -When she had gone but a few steps, she paused, leaning over the -banister: - -“Doesn’t it seem funny,” she said, the serious happiness her face had -worn giving place to a merry smile, “such a Yankee and such a Rebel, as -you and I! Let us set an example of letting by-gones be by-gones, and -shake hands across the bloody chasm!” - - -THE END. - - - - -MRS. 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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/license - - -Title: Across The Chasm - -Author: Julia Magruder - -Release Date: September 20, 2020 [EBook #63250] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE CHASM *** - - - - -Produced by D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" width="50%" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h1>ACROSS THE CHASM</h1> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - -<tr><td> </td><td class="tdc"><span class="xlarge">SCRIBNER’S POPULAR SERIES OF</span></td><td> </td></tr> - - -<tr><td class="tdc"><span class="large">Each</span></td> <td class="tdc" rowspan="2"><span class="xlarge">COPYRIGHT NOVELS</span></td> <td class="tdc"><span class="large">75</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdc"><span class="large">12mo</span></td> <td class="tdc"><span class="large">Cents</span></td></tr> - -</table> -<p> </p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">William Waldorf Astor</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Valentino: An Historical Romance</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Arlo Bates</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">A Wheel of Fire</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">H. H. Boyesen</span> </td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Falconberg</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Mrs. Burnett</span> </td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">That Lass o’ Lowrie’s</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="gap">“</span><span class="gap2">“</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Vagabondia: A Love Story</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">G. W. Cable</span> </td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">John March, Southerner</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Edith Carpenter</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Your Money or Your Life</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Edward Eggleston</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">The Circuit Rider</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Harold Frederic</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">The Lawton Girl</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Robert Grant</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Face to Face</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Marion Harland</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Judith: A Chronicle of Old Virginia</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Joel Chandler Harris</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Free Joe and Other Sketches</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Julian Hawthorne</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">A Fool of Nature</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">J. G. Holland</span> </td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Sevenoaks: A Story of To-Day</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="gap">“</span><span class="gap2">“</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">The Bay Path: A Tale of Colonial Life</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="gap">“</span><span class="gap2">“</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Arthur Bonnicastle: An American Story</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="gap">“</span><span class="gap2">“</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Miss Gilbert’s Career</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="gap">“</span><span class="gap2">“</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Nicholas Minturn</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Com’r J. D. J. Kelley</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">A Desperate Chance</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">G. P. Lathrop</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">An Echo of Passion</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Julia Magruder</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Across the Chasm</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Brander Matthews</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">The Last Meeting</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Donald G. Mitchell</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Dream Life</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="gap5">“</span><span class="gap4">“</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Reveries of a Bachelor</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Howard Pyle</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Within the Capes</span></td></tr> -<tr><td>“Q” (<span class="smcap">A. T. Quiller-Couch</span>)</td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">The Splendid Spur</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="gap">“</span><span class="gap2">“</span><span class="gap3">“</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">The Delectable Duchy</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">R. L. Stevenson</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">The Ebb-Tide</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="gap">“</span><span class="gap3">“</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Treasure Island</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="gap">“</span><span class="gap3">“</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">The Wrong Box</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">F. J. Stimson</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Guerndale</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Frank R. Stockton</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Rudder Grange</span></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="gap">“</span><span class="gap4">“</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">The Lady or the Tiger</span></td></tr> -</table></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<div class="titlepage"> -<p><span class="smcap"><span class="xxlarge">Across the Chasm</span></span></p> - - -<p>BY<br /> -<span class="large">JULIA MAGRUDER</span></p> - -<p>NEW YORK<br /> -CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS<br /> -1899</p></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1885,<br /> -<span class="smcap">By</span> CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS.<br /> -<br /> - -MANHATTAN PRESS<br /> -474 W. BROADWAY<br /> -NEW YORK</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span> - -<p class="ph1"><span class="smcap">Across the Chasm.</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I.</h2></div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">MARGARET TREVENNON was young and -beautiful. Her faithful biographer can -say no less, though aware of the possibility -that, on this account, the satiated reader of -romances may make her acquaintance with a -certain degree of reluctance, reflecting upon the -two well-worn types—the maiden in the first -flush of youth, who is so immaculately lovely as -to be extremely improbable, and the maturer -female, who is so strong-minded as to be wholly -ineligible to romantic situations. If there be -only these two classes Miss Trevennon must -needs be ranged with the former. Certainly -the particular character of her beauty foreordained -her to romantic situations, although -it must be said, on the other hand, that the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span> -term “strong-minded” was one which had -been more than once applied to her by those -who should have known her best.</p> - -<p>She lived with her parents on the outskirts -of a small Southern town, in a dilapidated old -house, that had once been a grand mansion. -The days of its splendid hospitality had passed -away long since, and as far back as Margaret’s -memory went the same monotonous tranquillity -had pervaded its lofty corridors and spacious -rooms. In spite of this, however, it was a -pleasant, cheerful home, and the girl’s life, up -to her nineteenth year, had been passed very -happily in it. She had had occasional changes -of scene, such as a visit to New Orleans or a -brief season at some small Southern watering-place; -but she had never been North, and so -by birth and circumstance, as well as by instinct -and training, she was a genuine Southern -girl. The fact that Mr. Trevennon had -managed to save from the wreck of his large -fortune a small independence, had afforded his -daughter the opportunity of seeing something<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span> -of men and manners beyond her own hearthstone, -and this, together with her varied and -miscellaneous reading, gave her a range of -vision wider and higher than that enjoyed by -the other young people of Bassett, and had -imbued her with certain theories and opinions -which made them regard her as eccentric.</p> - -<p>One bright autumnal day, when the weather -was still warm and sunny in this fair Southern -climate, Miss Trevennon, clad in an airy white -costume, and protected from the sun by a veil -and parasol, took her way with the rather -quick motions usual with her, down the main -street of Bassett. When she reached the corner -on which Martin’s drug store was situated, -she crossed over and passed down on the opposite -side; but, doubly screened as she was, -she turned her eyes in that direction and took -a hurried survey of the loungers assembled -on the pavement. Perhaps it was because her -gaze especially sought him out that she saw -Charley Somers first. This was a young man -who had been her unrequited adorer, hoping<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span> -against hope, ever since they had gone to the -village school together, and Margaret had all -her life been trying, in a flashing, impetuous -way that she had, to fire him with some of the -energy and enthusiasm which she herself possessed -so abundantly, and in which this pleasant, -easy, indolent young Southerner was so absolutely -lacking. Young Somers had come of a -long line of affluent and luxurious ancestors, -and though cut off from an inheritance in their -worldly possessions, he had fallen heir to -many of their personal characteristics, which -hung about him like fetters of steel.</p> - -<p>Although Miss Trevennon hurriedly averted -her gaze after that one swift glance, she had -received a distinct impression of Mr. Somers’ -whole manner and attitude, as he sat with his -chair tipped back against the wall, his heels -caught on its topmost round, his straw hat -pushed back from his delicate, indolent face, -and a pipe between his lips. In this way he -would sit for hours, ringing the changes on the -somewhat restricted theme of county politics<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span> -with the loungers who frequented “Martin’s.” -The mere thought of it, much more -the sight, infuriated Miss Trevennon. She -could not grow accustomed to it, in spite of -long habituation.</p> - -<p>As she tripped along, erect and quick, she -heard a familiar footstep behind her, and in a -moment more was joined by the young man.</p> - -<p>“Where are you going?” he said, giving -his hat a little careless push and re-settlement, -without lifting it from his head. “May -I go with you and carry your basket?”</p> - -<p>“If you like,” said Margaret, distantly, yielding -up to him the little white-covered basket. -“I am going to see Uncle Mose.”</p> - -<p>“As usual! What has Uncle Mose done to -be so petted? I wish you would treat me with -half as much consideration.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think you entitled to it,” she answered. -“Uncle Mose is at the end of a long -life of continuous, patient labor, and has won -a right to my consideration, which you never -have. You have often heard me say, of course,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span> -that ever since I’ve been able to form an opinion -at all, I’ve been a thorough-going Abolitionist; -but all the same, I think there is virtue -in a system which <i>makes</i> a man work, -whether he wills it or not. Servitude itself -seems to me a nobler life than absolute idleness.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, the same old thing!” said the young -man, wearily. “I wonder when you will give -up expecting me to be a paragon!”</p> - -<p>“I’ve given it up long ago. I’ve seen the -futility of any such expectation; but I will -never give up wishing that you would be a -man, and do something worthy of a man.”</p> - -<p>“You can’t say I don’t work. I attend to my -cases, and am always on hand during court -week.”</p> - -<p>“Provided it doesn’t clash with fishing -week or hunting week, or any pursuit that -happens to offer a more attractive prospect -than that of discussing county politics and -smoking bad tobacco with some other loungers -at ‘Martin’s’!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span>“I know I am not what you like,” said Somers despondently; -“but there is one thing that -would make me different. If you would give -me some hope for the future——”</p> - -<p>“I begged you never to say that again,” interrupted -Margaret, quickly. “You know how -indignant it makes me, and the worst of it is -that you really believe it to be true. If you -won’t do right for right’s sake, you would never -do it for mine.”</p> - -<p>He made no answer to her words. But one -form of response suggested itself, and to that -he knew she was in no mood to listen; so, -for the space of a few moments, they walked -along in silence. But Margaret’s thoughts -were very active, and presently she broke out:</p> - -<p>“Why, Charley, when I heard you complaining -the other day, that the tailor who has a -shop opposite you kept you from sleeping in -the morning by his violin practice begun at -daylight, I remembered how you had told me -once that you frequently saw him at his work -until after midnight; and do you know what I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span> -thought? I thought: I wish to goodness -Charley would try to be a little more like him.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” the young man cried, -angrily. “You don’t know what you are talking -about. Do you think I could ever so far forget -myself as to imitate a beastly little Yankee -tailor, or to desire to be like him in any way -whatever? I can stand a good deal from you, -Margaret, but this is a little too much!”</p> - -<p>“Of course! His happening to be a Yankee -puts him down at once. But I can tell you -what it is, Charley, there is one lesson you -might profitably learn from him, and that the -most important in the world for you. It is, to -make something of the powers you have. That -poor little man has no possibilities, I suppose, -beyond the attainment of a certain degree of -skill in making clothing, on the one hand, and -learning to play popular airs indifferently on a -cracked little fiddle, on the other. But with -you, how different it is! Papa says you would -be an able lawyer, but for the trifling obstacle -that you don’t know any law. We all know<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span> -how well you talk, on those rare occasions on -which you become really interested. And as -to the other point, the music—oh, Charley, -what mightn’t your voice become, if you would -avail yourself of the means of cultivation within -your reach? But no! Your teacher told you -that you must practise patiently and continuously -to procure its proper development, and -this you would not do; it was too troublesome!”</p> - -<p>“Trouble apart,” said Somers, “the notion -does not please me, and I must say I wonder -that you, who make such a point of manliness -in a man, should favor any one’s regularly preparing -himself to be the sort of drawing-room -pet that one of your trained song-singers is -certain to become.”</p> - -<p>“You <i>can</i> say the most aggravating things!” -said Margaret. “Is it possible that you can -consider it unmanly to cultivate such a gift as -that? But what’s the use of all this? You -don’t care.”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t care much,” he answered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> -slowly. “When a man has one supreme, paramount -care forever possessing him, and is -constantly being told that the object of his desires -is beyond his reach, other things don’t -matter very much.”</p> - -<p>At the sight of the weary discontent on his -handsome face, her heart softened, and as they -stopped before the little cabin, which was -their destination, she said kindly:</p> - -<p>“Come in and see Uncle Mose with me, -won’t you?”</p> - -<p>But the young man excused himself rather -hurriedly, and delivering the basket into her -hands he said good-morning, and walked rapidly -back toward the town.</p> - -<p>Margaret pushed open the door of the wretched -little cabin, and just within sat Uncle Mose, -engaged in his customary avocation of shoemaking, -or to speak more accurately, shoe-mending. -He was a spare and sinewy old -negro, whose age, according to his own account, -was “somewhar high up in de nineties.” He -was much bowed in figure, and lame in one leg.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span> -Bushy tufts of dull gray hair rose on each side -of his brown and polished crown, and his -wrinkled and sunken cheeks were quite beardless. -His expression was one of placid benevolence -and contentment—a strange contrast to -his surroundings. The room he occupied was -hideously squalid and confused. The roof -sloped in one direction and the floor in another, -and the stove, which was unreasonably -large, in a third. Old phials, suspended by -their necks and partly filled with muddy liquids, -decorated the walls, together with a pair -of patched boots, a string of red peppers, -several ears of pop-corn, and a leather-covered -whipstock. In one corner hung a huge walking -cane. Everything was thickly coated with -dust.</p> - -<p>The old man was seated near the perilously -one-sided stove, in which a fire smoked and -smouldered, though it was a balmy day, and in -front of which a rusty old iron spade did duty -for a door. His few old tools and pegs and -twines were on a broken chair beside him.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span> -When he looked up, over the top of his brass-rimmed -spectacles, and saw who his visitor was, -he broke into a broad smile of welcome, as he -raised his withered old hand to his head in -token of salutation.</p> - -<p>“Dat you, missis?” he said. “What bin -fetch you out dis time o’ day? I is glad to see -you, sho’. Come in, en take a seat.”</p> - -<p>He swept his tools and twines from the -wooden seat to the floor, and rubbed the dusty -surface several times with his hard palm. Margaret -at once sat down, laying her long white -draperies across her lap, to protect them from -the dusty floor, showing a pair of neat little -boots as she did so. Then she took off the -cover of the basket, and revealed its contents -to the old man’s delighted gaze.</p> - -<p>“Well, missis, to be sho’!” he exclaimed, his -features relaxing in a grin of anticipative enjoyment, -“Light bread, en chicken, en grapes! -en what’s dis, missis? Gemarna!<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> Whoo! -How come you bin know so good what I done<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span> -bin hankerin’ arter? I gwine tase a little, -right now.”</p> - -<p>And using his shoemaking weapon as knife, -fork and spoon indifferently, he fell to in earnest. -He had probably been honest in his intention -of only tasting a little, feeling it perhaps -a lack of decorum to eat in the presence -of his guest; but once embarked on the alluring -enterprise, he was in no humor to relax, -and, uttering from time to time expressive ejaculations -of enjoyment, he went on and on, until -only the fruit remained. As he wiped his -mouth on the back of his hand, he drew a long -sigh of contented repletion.</p> - -<p>“Dat wor good, sure ’nuff, missis,” he said. -“White folks’ vittles tase mighty chice to me -now, I tell you.”</p> - -<p>“I’m glad you liked it, Uncle Mose,” said -Margaret. “But tell me—I always meant to -ask you—where that immense stick came from. -Did any one ever use it?”</p> - -<p>“What, dat air ole stick, missis? Why, bress -you, honey, dat air ole stick wor ole mars’r’s,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span> -whar he bin use ter take when he druv out in -de kyarrge, arter he bin git so big en fat. Yes, -missis; he bin put he han’s on de top en res’ -he chin on ’em, en when I bin had ter git out’n -de ole place, de bin gin it ter me fur a sort o’ -memorandum.”</p> - -<p>“You were mighty fond of your old master, -weren’t you, Uncle Mose?” asked Margaret.</p> - -<p>“Ah, dat’s a fac’, missis—dat’s a fac’. Ole -mars’r war mighty good to us. De wor three -hund’rd on us, en he wor de mars’r, en we had -ter know it. He done bin gin he niggers -mighty good chance, ole mars’r is. Ebery -man bin had he pig en he chickens, en ole -mars’r he buy de young chickens en de eggs, -en pay us de market price fur ’em. Yes, -missis.”</p> - -<p>“And what would you do with the money, -Uncle Mose?” Margaret asked.</p> - -<p>“Dress my wife, missis. Lor’ yes, dress my -wife, en Queen. Queen war my oldes’ daughter; -en if you b’lieve me, missis, I dress dem -two niggers same as de done bin white. I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> -bin lucky nigger all my life, missis. Ole mars’r -wor good enough, en when he bin die en young -Rawjer take de place, t’war mos’ same as hebben. -I dunno <i>how</i> come young Rawjer wor so -mile, for all he par wor so blusterin’. You see -ole mars’r he mighty quick en hot-heddy. He -let out at you sometimes, en hawler ’twel you -think he gwine tar you to pieces; but done -you be skeered, missis; he ain’ gwine hit you -a lick. When de new overseers’d come, ole -mars’r he ’low de mus’ keep us down en work -us hard, but Lor’ missis, he ain’ mean it. He -gwine watch mighty close nobody don’ ’buse -his niggers, en he giv’ ’em plenty good food to -eat, and see it done bin cook right, too. De -did’n have no plates en knives to eat with. No -missis; but what dem niggers want long o’ -plates en knives? De ain’ got no right to complain -cause de ain’ eat offn chany. De needn’t -think ole mars’r gwine let em come sit down at -his table long o’ him, ’kus he worn’ gwine do it, -en he <i>did’n</i> do it. No, missis.”</p> - -<p>The old man’s tone was one of vehement indorsement<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> -of his master’s policy, that there -could be no mistaking.</p> - -<p>“Did you marry one of your own master’s -slaves, Uncle Mose?” asked Margaret, presently.</p> - -<p>“No, missis,” Uncle Mose responded blandly; -“I marry a gal whar ’long to one Mr. <i>Fitz</i>hugh. -De war heap o’ likely gals whar ’long -to ole mars’r, some bright yaller, and some -black ez coals, en some mos’ white, but seem -like I could’n make up my mine to marry air -one on ’em, I dunno <i>what</i> make I could’n -take to ’em, but ’t’war no use! I bin sot my -eyes on a tall black gal, over to Mars’r George -<i>Fitz</i>hugh’s, en ebery other Sad’dy ole mars’r -lemme knock off early en go see her. She -done bin younger’n me, some odd yeers, en I -tell her I wor’n’ gwine cheat ’er. I tell her -she mought look roun’ a while, ’fo’ we bin -settle de thing. So, eff you b’lieve me, missis, -I bin wait on her three yeers, ’fo’ she compose -her mine to marry me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, and what became of her?” said Margaret, -as he paused ruminatively.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span>“Alter ’bout fo’ yeers, missis, she wor sole -away, Liza wor,” he said in tones as benign -and free from resentment as ever. “Lor’ me, -missis, how well I mine dat day! I bin’ come -up from de fiel’ like t’wor down datterway” -(suiting the action to the word), “de paff run -long by de cabin do’ pretty much. It wor like -it done bin dis pass Chewsdy dat I come up -to de do’, en Aun’ Tetsy, she tell me she heer -’Liza done bin sole. I stop short like, en I say -‘<i>what?</i>’ en she tell me agin, en say she bin -heer’d de done fotch her down to town ter take -her off in de drove. I struck out for de great-’us -at dat, en I tell ole mars’r all ’bout it. -‘Knock off work, Mose,’ ole mars’r say, ‘en go -to town en see eff she’s thar. ’T’ain’ no use -try ter keep her, but mebbe you can see her -en de chillun one’t mo’. You kin take White-foot.’ -I prick up my yeers at dat, for White-foot -war de fleetes’ horse ole mars’r got. Lor’, -missis, I wish yer could ’a see dat filly. De -ain’ no sich hosses now. Her legs war clean -en straight ez a poplar, en her coat——”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span>“But, Uncle Mose, go on about ’Liza.”</p> - -<p>“’T’war no use, missis,” he said, with a patient -head-shake. “When I got to town I bin -hurry to de jail to see eff de bin lodge de gang -in dar, but de tell me ’Liza bin gone off wid -de rest on ’em dat very mornin’.”</p> - -<p>He ceased speaking, and sat staring in front -of him in a preoccupied and ruminative way, -from which Margaret saw it would be necessary -to recall him.</p> - -<p>“Well—what else, Uncle Mose?” she said -gently; “what finally became of your wife?”</p> - -<p>“Which wife, missis?” he replied, rousing -himself by an effort, and looking about him -blankly; “I had three on ’em.”</p> - -<p>Margaret refrained from asking whether it -had been a case of “trigamy,” or whether -they had been successive, and said:</p> - -<p>“You were telling me about ’Liza’s being -sold away. Did you never see her again?”</p> - -<p>“No, missis,” the old man answered gently. -“I never see ’Liza no mo’. I see a man whar -met her on de road, en he say she bin had de<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span> -baby in her arms, walkin’ ’long wid de gang, en -de t’other chile wor in de cart wid de balance o’ -de chillun, en he say ’Liza busted out a-cryin’, -en ’low he mus’ tell her ole man, eff we did’n -meet no mo’ here b’low, she hope to meet in -Hebben. En he ax her den whar she gwine -ter, en she say she dunno, she think she bin -heerd em say t’wor Alabammer; en dat’s de -las’ word I ever heer o’ ’Liza. Yes, missis.”</p> - -<p>Another meditative pause followed, and -Margaret’s sympathetic eyes could see that he -was far back in the past.</p> - -<p>“I bin had a daughter sole away, too, missis,” -he went on presently. “Yes, missis. She -’long to one Mr. Lane. He bin a hard mars’r, -en he treated on her mighty bad, ’twel arter -while she run off en went en put herself in -jail. Yes, missis.”</p> - -<p>“How could she put herself in jail?”</p> - -<p>“Dat how de do, missis. You see, when she -bin run away, eff she done git caught, de have -to put her in jail. So she jes’ go en give herself -up, en say she won’ go back ter Mr. Lane,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span>—she -be sole fust! So arter Mr. Lane fine out -she one o’dat sort, he sole her. It so happen -dat my brother Sawney wor gwine ’long de -road, en she wor passin’ in de cart, en she -hawler out: ‘Howdy, Unc’ Sawney!’ en -Sawney say: ‘Hi! who dat know me, en I -don’ know dem?’ En she say: ‘Lor’ Unc’ -Sawney, don’t you know Unc’ Mose’s Queen?’ -En Sawney say: ‘Hi, Queen! Dat ain’ you! -Whar you gwine to?’ En she say: ‘I dunno, -I ruther fer ter go ennywhere den to stay whar -I done bin.’ En I ain’ never heerd o’ Queen -since.”</p> - -<p>At this point the old man was seized with a -fit of coughing, which he made great efforts to -repress, and fluently apologized for.</p> - -<p>“You must excuse me, young missis,” he said. -“I bin cotch a bad cole, en it cough me all -day en cough me all night, clar ’twel mornin’. -I’se gettin’ mighty ole en shacklin’. Yes, -missis.</p> - -<p>“De all been mighty good to me, missis,” -went on Uncle Mose, after a short pause,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span> -“from ole mars’r down. I hope to meet -’em all in Hebben. Ole mars’r ain’ bin -much fer religion in he life; but he die a -mighty peaceful, happy death, en he forgive -all he enemies. He bin kind en merciful, en I -’low de Lord’ll take him in. He always give -his niggers heap o’ religious encouragement, -en when we bin go to de lick to be <i>bab</i>tize, -he bin gin us de fines’ kind o’ notes to de -preacher, en eff you bin tell a lie or steal a -chicken he ain’ gwine say de fuss word ’bout -it. Ef he come roun’ to de cabin while we bin -had meetin’, he ain’ gwine make no ’sturbance. -He wait roun’ ’twel we done sing de Doxoligum, -en den he say what he come fer.”</p> - -<p>“Your religion has been a great comfort to -you, Uncle Mose—hasn’t it?” said Margaret, -making an effort to keep back an irrepressible -smile.</p> - -<p>“Ah, dat’s a fac’, missis—dat’s a fac’, it has. -Sometime it animate me very strong, en make -me tower high ’bove de world; but den agin, -sometime de very las’ bit on it takes to flight,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span> -en ef you b’lieve me, missis, I ain’ got no more -religion den de palm o’ your han’!”</p> - -<p>“The greatest saints have complained of -that, Uncle Mose,” said Margaret; “it is one -of the devil’s strongest temptations.”</p> - -<p>“What, ole Sat’n, missis? Talk to me ’bout -ole Sat’n! Don’t I know him? You just give -him de chance en he gwine fight you, mean -enough!”</p> - -<p>Margaret, much amused, was about to make -a move to go, when Uncle Mose arrested her -intention by saying:</p> - -<p>“En so Mars’ Rawjer got a little gal gwine -git married. Well, well, well! Is I ever bin -tell you, missis, ’bout de time I whip young -Rawjer? Ha! ha! ha! I tell you, missis, I -whale him good. He make me mad one day, -’bout ketchin de white folks’ hosses, en I -break me a little sprout, whar sprung up ’side -a ole stump, in de very fiel’ I help to clar -forty yeers ago, en I warm he jacket fer him, -good fashion. I mighty feared he gwine tell -he par, but arter I git up by de stable, I does<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> -take my han’ en slap it ’gin de stone fence, en -one de little white boys say, ‘I tell you, Uncle -Mose kin hit hard’; en I say ‘Ah, dat I kin, -chile; dat’s a fac;’ en eff you b’lieve me, I -skeered dat chile so bad, he ain’ never tell he -par yit;” and Uncle Mose went off into a long -chuckle of delight. “When he bin git married -en bring he wife home, we all went up to -de house to see ’em, en drink de healths, en he -tell de young missis this war Mose whar bin -gin him that air whippin’ he bin tole her -’bout. She war mighty pretty little thing, wid -yaller hair en great big sof’ blue eyes, en a -little han’ ez sof’ en white ez snow. I was mos’ -feared to ketch hold on it, wid my ole black -paw, but she would shake han’s wid me, en she -’lowed maybe t’wor dat whippin’ what make her -husman sich a good man, en Mars’ Rawjer he -look at her fit to eat her up. She bin use ter -gin out to de han’s, arter she come, but Aun’ -Kitty she tote de smoke-’us key.”</p> - -<p>As Margaret rose to take leave, the old man -rose also.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span>“I mighty proud’n dat dinner you bin fotch -me, missis,” he said. “Give my ’spects to yo’ -par en mar, en call agin, missis.” And he lifted -his cap and bowed her out with punctilious -politeness.</p> - -<p>As Margaret took her way homeward from -the old negro’s cabin, she was conscious of a -more than usual softness in her heart for -Uncle Mose and his reminiscences, and all the -customs and traditions of which he was the -exponent. Even Charley Somers seemed less -reprehensible than he had been an hour ago, -for the old man’s talk had brought before her -mind a system of things of which the inertia -and irresponsibleness that jarred upon her so, -in the people around her, seemed the logical -outgrowth. She had often been told that her -father, when a small boy, had been every day -drawn to and from his school in a diminutive -coach pulled by ten little negroes; and a number -of similar anecdotes which she could recall -gave her an insight into the absolute difference -between that <i>régime</i> and the present, that made<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span> -her somewhat ashamed of her intolerance, and -mollified considerably her feeling toward young -Somers, whom she determined to serve more -kindly at their next interview. She was -prompted further to this resolve by the fact that -she had something to break to the young man, -which she feared would go rather hard with him.</p> - -<p>An opportunity which she had often longed -for, to see the great world beyond her own -section of country, and observe the manners -and habits of men and women whose circumstances -and traditions were directly opposed to -her own, had been offered recently by a letter, -received from a cousin who had married an -army officer and was living in Washington, -which conveyed an invitation for her to make -her a visit. Her father and mother highly approved -the plan and it seemed settled that she -was to go, and while she longed for the new -experience, she found her thoughts dwelling -rather tenderly on the dear old home and -friends, of whom, it seemed to her now, she had -been ungratefully impatient.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">A FEW weeks later, Miss Trevennon found -herself domesticated in her cousin’s house -in Washington, with surroundings so unfamiliar -and circumstances so new to her that she -found something to excite her interest and surprise -almost every hour in the day. The perfect -appointments of the house, which was -gotten up with all the appliances of modern -art, delighted and diverted her at every turn. -“The mud-scraper,” she wrote her mother, in -her first letter home, “is a thing of beauty, and -the coal-scuttle a joy forever.”</p> - -<p>There were no children in the family, which -consisted only of General and Mrs. Gaston and -a bachelor brother of the former, who made -his home with them, although a large portion -of his time was spent in New York. Margaret -had already been an inmate of the house for -ten days, and as yet had not seen him. Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> -Gaston, however, informed her that he might -appear at any moment, his trips to and from -New York being too frequent to entail the formality -of announcing himself.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Gaston was a very clever and agreeable -woman and pretended, with some reason, to -know the world. Her marriage had been considered -quite a brilliant one, as General Gaston’s -position, both social and official, was extremely -good, and he had quite a large private -fortune in addition to his pay. He was not -so clever as his wife, but more thoughtful and -perhaps more sincere. It was a successful -marriage, and the Gaston establishment was -tasteful and well ordered. Mrs. Gaston, whose -health was indifferent, kept her room a good -deal when she could escape the exactions of -society, which she never allowed herself to -shirk; and her husband was so much absorbed -in his official and social duties that Margaret -was often alone.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid you are frequently dull, my -dear,” Mrs. Gaston said to her cousin one<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> -morning, as the latter sat beside her couch in -the little dressing-room where the invalid was -taking her breakfast. “It will be brighter for -you when the season fairly opens; but I purposely -begged you to come now, so that we -might have time to make acquaintance while -we are quiet. I wish Louis would come home, -but there’s never any counting on him, he’s so -frightfully busy all the time. I never saw a -man work so hard in my life.”</p> - -<p>Margaret looked a little puzzled: “I thought -you told me——” she began,</p> - -<p>“That he is well off? So he is. He has -quite a nice little fortune and there’s no earthly -reason why he should work so hard, except -that he likes it; and from that point of view I -don’t blame him. ‘Pleasure the way you like -it,’ is an axiom for which I have a profound -respect, and Louis undoubtedly finds his chief -pleasure in application to his profession.”</p> - -<p>“What is his profession?” Margaret asked; -for, although it was evident that Mrs. Gaston -was very fond of her brother-in-law, she had,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span> -for some reason, said very little about him to -her cousin.</p> - -<p>“He’s an architect—I thought you knew—Ames -& Gaston. Have you never heard of -them?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Margaret, shaking her head and -smiling, “but that does not go for much. I -am finding out that I have never heard of -most things.”</p> - -<p>“It’s really quite delightful that you never -heard of Ames & Gaston,” said Cousin Eugenia, -laughing. “I shall inform Louis promptly, -though he won’t believe it, or if he does -he’ll set it down to the obtuseness of Southern -people—a foregone conclusion in his mind! I -must tell you that I anticipate some pleasure -in seeing you enlighten him on that score.”</p> - -<p>“I am afraid I shall not be able to do much,” -said Margaret. “I do feel myself extremely -ignorant by the side of General Gaston and -yourself, especially when you talk of modern -literature and art and music.”</p> - -<p>“You need not, I assure you. We are neither<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> -of us more than ‘cleverly smattered’ on these -subjects. Edward knows more than I do, -though every one, himself included, believes -the contrary. It’s quite another thing with -Louis, however; he’s a swell at that sort of -thing, and is really thorough, and yet, do you -know, I sometimes manage to impose on him -immensely and make him think I’ve penetrated -to the very root and fibre of a matter, when in -reality I have only the most superficial knowledge -of it? But all this is a digression. There -was something I wanted to say to you. It was -about Edward’s people. You know about the -Gastons, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>Margaret looked slightly puzzled. “What -do you mean?” she said.</p> - -<p>“Oh! I mean about their name and history -and family traditions. It’s an old Puritan -family and one of the most illustrious in New -England. I read somewhere the other day, that -it was one of the few really historical families -in America, and I have no desire to speak -disrespectfully of them, only I do think they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> -make an unnecessary amount of fuss with themselves. -Oh! I <i>must</i> tell you about my first -interview with Mr. Alexander M. Gaston. You -know who he is!”</p> - -<p>“Really, I do not,” said Margaret, lifting her -eyebrows with a deprecating smile.</p> - -<p>“Well, you <i>are</i> green! but, however, it’s unnecessary -to enlighten you now, except to say -that he is Edward’s uncle, and the head of the -great house of Gaston. He’s been governor -and senator and foreign minister and all sorts -of things, and is now one of the most eminent -men in New England, and a very excellent and -accomplished gentleman. Well, soon after I -became engaged to Edward he came to call -upon me, and I must say his whole manner -and attitude toward me were rather amazing. -He was good enough to say that he welcomed -me into the family, but he took pains to intimate -that I was about to be the recipient of -a great honor. The Gastons, he explained, -had been for centuries leaders of public thought -and opinion in their own State, and he was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span> -obliging enough to supply me with the dates -of the landing in New England of the founders -of the house, and to dwell upon their prominence -among the early Puritans. I listened respectfully -to this tirade, and by the time it came -to a conclusion I had my little speech ready, -and when he took my hand and formally welcomed -me into the great house of Gaston, I -replied by saying that I knew it ought to be a -source of much satisfaction to Edward and -myself that we were, in our small way, doing -something toward healing an old breach. ‘My -ancestors were Cavaliers,’ I said, ‘and for a -Cavalier to marry a Puritan, is, even at this -late day, helping at least a little to wipe out -the memory of a long-standing feud.’ Now, I -flatter myself that was rather neat.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Cousin Eugenia, how perfectly delicious!” -exclaimed Margaret, with an outburst -of gay laughter. “And what did he say?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t exactly remember, my dear, but it -was something clever and adroit. I know he -retired very gracefully, and bore me no malice.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span> -He has been very kind to me always, and I am -said to be his favorite of all his nephews’ -wives. He is really a dear old boy, and quite -worthy of all the adulation he receives, if only -they wouldn’t put it on the ground of ancestry. -Why, the founder of the family was engaged in -some sort of haberdashery business in London! -It’s odd, the inconsistencies one meets with! -But I’m inured to it all now, and have learned -to pose as a Gaston, like the rest of them! -But what I wanted particularly to tell you, -and what it concerns you to know is, that the -Gastons—Edward and Louis as well as the -others—are greatly prejudiced against Southerners. -That was one reason why I asked you -here.”</p> - -<p>“It may make matters very difficult for me,” -said Margaret, smiling.</p> - -<p>“Not in the least, my dear. You have only -to be yourself, assuming nothing. I feel a delightful -security in letting matters take their -course. You will know perfectly what to do, -and I think nothing could be more inspiring<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span> -than forcing people to abandon foolish prejudices. -I should not be sorry to have your -chance myself.”</p> - -<p>“Surely, the same opportunity must once -have been yours.”</p> - -<p>“Oh no, they won’t accord me that for a -moment. They say, with truth, that merely to -have been born in the South does not make -me a Southerner, and that, having spent as -much time in the North—and, for that matter, -the East and West—as in the South, I must be -set down as a cosmopolitan.”</p> - -<p>“I am almost surprised to hear you say they -are prejudiced,” said Margaret; “I should -suppose they were too intelligent for that.”</p> - -<p>“Just what I’ve always said. For my part, -I haven’t an atom of prejudice in my composition. -It is unworthy of enlightened human -beings, and so I tell Edward and Louis.”</p> - -<p>“And what do they say?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that they are not prejudiced, of course. -Denial is the only answer such people can -give. But, for all that, they are. I think<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span> -Northern people, as a rule, are more prejudiced -than Southerners.”</p> - -<p>“They must go great lengths, if they are,” -said Margaret; “but I am not speaking of the -more enlightened ones, and I have always supposed -that the existence of such feelings in -Bassett was due to the fact that it is such a -small place, and so shut off from contact with -the world. And then, too, I think much of it is -to be attributed to the fact that those poor -people suffered so terribly by the war.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly. I often tell Edward and Louis -that they are so much less justifiable, because -they were the victors. I’m sure <i>I</i> feel it a very -easy thing to be magnanimous toward a person -I’ve got the better of. But I’ve long since -ceased to apply arguments to a prejudice. -Finding they did not answer, I thought a practical -illustration might.”</p> - -<p>A moment’s silence ensued, which Margaret -presently broke by saying:</p> - -<p>“Is Mr. Louis Gaston younger or older than -your husband?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span>“Younger, of course,—years younger. He’s -not quite thirty.”</p> - -<p>“Is he a bachelor or a widower?”</p> - -<p>“A bachelor, of course. Fancy Louis being -a widower! He stands on the high vantage-ground -of lofty impregnability. He is not in -love, and he would fain have it believed he -never has been, or at least only in a careless and -off-hand manner. Not that he avoids women. -On the contrary, he goes into society, and -enjoys it very much when he has time, which -is not very often.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean that he works out of office -hours?”</p> - -<p>“He has no particular office hours, and he -works at all times, early and late. His partner -lives in New York and he is there a great -deal, and there most of the work is done; but -he is always drawing plans and making estimates -here at home, and has a branch office -down the street. Sometimes he works in his -room, and sometimes I persuade him to bring -his designs down into the library, when there<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span> -seems a likelihood of our having a quiet evening. -I pretend I’m interested in them, to -please him,—he does a great deal to please me; -but I’m not so, really.”</p> - -<p>“They must be interesting to him, at any -rate, to absorb him so completely.”</p> - -<p>“I should think so! Why, I’ve known -Louis, when there was a stress of work, to sit -up the entire night, and then take a cold bath -and come down to breakfast perfectly fresh, -and be ready afterward to go off down town -and be at it again until night. It’s enough to -make one yawn to think of it.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Gaston, suiting the action to the word, -was settling herself more comfortably among -the pillows, and so failed to observe the -look of eager interest her words had called -up in her companion’s face. She had just -arranged her position to her satisfaction, and -turned to continue the conversation, when -a quick step was heard ascending the staircase.</p> - -<p>“That’s Louis’ step,” she said suddenly.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span> -“Close the door, please; he will probably -stop to speak to me.”</p> - -<p>Margaret obeyed in silence, and the next -moment the footsteps stopped at the door, and -a very pleasantly modulated voice said:</p> - -<p>“Any admittance to a repentant renegade, -who comes to make his peace?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Mrs. Gaston, quietly; “I’m not -well—worse than usual, indeed—used up with -recent exertions and in no mood to show clemency -to offenders.”</p> - -<p>“And pray, in what have the recent exertions -consisted?” the voice replied.</p> - -<p>“Oh, the usual round of wearing domestic -affairs, with a new item added.”</p> - -<p>“Ahem!” exclaimed the voice; “it would -seem the young Southerner has arrived. Is it -so?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Mrs. Gaston, dryly, “she -has.”</p> - -<p>“If I were not too generous, I should say, -‘I told you so,’” went on the voice. “I have -observed that Southern importations into<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span> -Northern climates are usually attended with -certain disadvantages.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, she’s a very nice little thing,” said -Mrs. Gaston, carelessly, “I think something -can be made of her.”</p> - -<p>“And you are to have the pleasure of conducting -the process of development, and Edward -and I that of looking on at it—is that -it? Where is she, by-the-way? Is there any -danger of one’s meeting her on the stairs, and -having to account for one’s self? A civilized -man, encountered unexpectedly, might unsteady -the nerves of the Importation—might -he not?”</p> - -<p>“Possibly,” said Mrs. Gaston; “but there’s -no danger. I’ve given her a room far away -from yours; so you will still have the privilege -of keeping unearthly hours without disturbing -any one.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you; that’s very considerate; but -I must be off. I want to get some papers -from my room, and then I must go to keep an -appointment.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span>“Of course! I shouldn’t know you if you -hadn’t an appointment. It wouldn’t be you. -Go on; but be prompt at dinner.”</p> - -<p>“You may count upon me. And, by-the-way, -you’ll let me know whenever you’d like -me to do anything for your young friend’s -entertainment. I shall not be likely to know -the tastes and predilections of the Importation, -but if you think of anything I can do, I -am at your service.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you; but I let her look after herself -pretty much. I fancy there will be no -occasion to call on you.”</p> - -<p>She threw an amount of careless weariness -into her voice as she said this, that contrasted -strongly with the smile of unmixed amusement -with which she turned her eyes on Margaret -a moment afterward, as the footsteps outside -were heard ascending the staircase.</p> - -<p>“Well,” she said quietly, “that’s Louis. -What do you think of him?”</p> - -<p>“How can I possibly say?” said Margaret, -divided between amusement and indignation.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span>“Surely you must have some impression of -him,” Mrs. Gaston urged.</p> - -<p>“He has a very pleasant voice.”</p> - -<p>“You couldn’t fail to notice that. I was -sure you would. New Englanders are somewhat -maligned in the matter of voices, I think. -That dreadful nasal twang, where it exists at -all among the more cultivated, usually belongs -to the women; though I must say Edward has -some relations, male and female, who set my -teeth on edge whenever they come near me. -But a really beautiful voice, such as Louis’, is -a rarity anywhere, and he pronounces his -words so exquisitely! Only to hear him say -‘Matthew Arnold’ rests every bone in one’s -body. I dare say you would have expected to -hear the endless succession of double o’s, -always attributed to <i>Noo</i> Englanders!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!” said Margaret. “I always supposed -cultivated New Englanders quite superior -to that.”</p> - -<p>“They suppose themselves to be so, also,” -said Cousin Eugenia; “but they are not in all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> -cases, by any means. Edward himself had a -decided tendency in that direction when I -married him. I have often told him that what -first suggested to me to accept him was a curiosity -to see whether he would address me as -‘Oogenia,’ when he grew sentimental; and I -protest he did!”</p> - -<p>Margaret could not help laughing at this, -but she soon became grave again, and said -seriously:</p> - -<p>“I am afraid I must be rather a <i>bête noir</i> to -Mr. Gaston.”</p> - -<p>“It would seem so,” said Cousin Eugenia.</p> - -<p>“I hope you will never call upon him to -escort me anywhere, or do anything whatever -for my entertainment,” Margaret continued. -“I wish you would promise me not -to.”</p> - -<p>“With all my heart. I promise it as solemnly -and bindingly as you like.”</p> - -<p>At this point the footsteps were heard returning -down the stairs, and again they paused -outside.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span>“Can you come and take this?” the pleasant -voice called softly.</p> - -<p>“Open the door and hand it through a little -crack,” Mrs. Gaston answered.</p> - -<p>The knob was turned from without, and the -door pushed open just wide enough to admit -the entrance of a neatly done-up parcel, held -in a large, finely formed hand.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Gaston motioned to Margaret, who sat -just behind the door, to take the parcel, and, -not daring to protest, the girl moved forward -and received it.</p> - -<p>“Shake hands, in token of pardon for my -slurs at the Importation,” the voice said, in a -tone of quiet amusement, and Margaret, obeying -another peremptory nod and glance from -Mrs. Gaston, transferred the parcel to her left -hand, and put her right one for a moment -into that of Louis Gaston.</p> - -<p>“I perceive that the toilet is indeed in its -initial stages,” he said, “not a ring in place as -yet! I hardly seem to know your hand in its -present unfettered condition. I even think it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span> -seems slighter and colder than usual. The -Importation must have taken a good deal out -of you already.”</p> - -<p>Not choosing to have her hand imprisoned -longer in that firm and friendly clasp, Margaret -forcibly withdrew it and stepped back, -while Mrs. Gaston said, naturally:</p> - -<p>“Cease your invidious remarks and go to -your appointment, Louis. Thank you for the -candy.”</p> - -<p>The door was immediately closed from without, -and again the footsteps retreated.</p> - -<p>“I am glad you’ve shaken hands with -Louis,” Mrs. Gaston said; “it’s an initiation -to a friendship between you, and, in the end, -you and Louis must be friends, though there -will be certain inevitable obstructions at first. -He is really the best and dearest creature that -ever lived. He had a dreadful illness once -from studying too hard for his college examinations, -and Edward and I nursed him through -it, and you don’t know how we did yearn over -that boy! He’s been devoted to me ever since,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> -one proof of which is, that he always brings -me this candy from New York. Have some. -I’m sure he ought to be good to me,” she said, -critically peering into the box from which -Margaret had just helped herself, and selecting -a plump chocolate drop; “I certainly spoil -him sufficiently. Still, there isn’t very much -one can do for a man like that. He has such -frugal habits, it’s quite baffling. But tell me -what you think of him, after a second encounter.”</p> - -<p>“Why, nothing more than I thought before, -except that he has a beautiful hand.”</p> - -<p>“Margaret, you are never disappointing,” -said Cousin Eugenia, warmly. “I felt sure -you would observe that. Go now and write -the letters that you spoke of while I dress, -and then we’ll go for a drive before lunch. -And, by-the-way, while I think of it, put on -your long black dress this evening, and wear -the black lace at the throat and hands, as you -had it the evening that the Kents were here. -Don’t wear any color, not even a bit of gold.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span> -You know you gave me leave to make suggestions -when you came, and it’s the first time -I’ve used my privilege, though I think I am -usually rather fond of suggesting. Ring for -Lucy, please, and then hurry through your -letters, that we may have a nice long drive.”</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">A FEW minutes before six o’clock that evening, -Margaret, clad in a long black gown -that swathed her up to her milk-white throat, -came slowly down the broad staircase of General -Gaston’s house and entered the empty -drawing-room.</p> - -<p>Finding herself alone, she moved across the -warm, bright room to the table which stood -under the chandelier, and taking up the evening -paper, which had just been brought in, she -began rather listlessly to run her eyes along -its columns. Presently some particular item -caught her attention, and so absorbed her that -she was unconscious of approaching footsteps, -until she caught sight of a gentleman who was -just entering the room from the hall.</p> - -<p>Lowering the paper, she waited for him to -come forward, which he did with a certain perplexity -of expression and a slight confusion of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span> -manner. Seeing these indications, the girl -looked into his face with frank self-possession, -and said gently:</p> - -<p>“Miss Trevennon.”</p> - -<p>As there was no immediate response, she -presently added:</p> - -<p>“You are Mr. Gaston?”</p> - -<p>The sound of his own name recalled him, -and he came up and greeted her with a perfect -ease that instantly put to flight the moment’s -confusion; not however, before a watchful eye, -applied to a crack between the folding-doors of -the library, had noted the fact of its existence. -These doors were now suddenly thrown apart, -and Mrs. Gaston, dressed in a gay and ornate -costume, entered the room.</p> - -<p>“I beg pardon of you both for not having -been on hand to introduce you,” she said, with -careless composure, as she took her brother-in-law’s -hand and turned her cheek to receive -his light kiss. “You have managed to dispense -with my offices, I’m glad to see! How are you, -Louis?—though it is the merest form to ask.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span> -He is one of the hopelessly healthy people, -Margaret, who are the most exasperating class -on earth to me. Anything in the <i>Star</i>, dear? -Let me see.”</p> - -<p>She took the paper from Miss Trevennon’s -hand, and began carelessly looking it over. -Suddenly her eye lighted.</p> - -<p>“Here’s something that may interest you, -Louis,” she said, handing him the paper, as -she pointed with her heavily jewelled finger to -a paragraph headed:</p> - -<p>“Southern Imports.”</p> - -<p>At the same instant General Gaston entered -the room, and just afterward a servant announced -dinner.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Gaston had mentioned that it was characteristic -of her to be a magnanimous victor, -and it may have been that fact which prompted -her great urbanity to her brother-in-law on the -present occasion. She ran her hand through -his arm affectionately, as she walked toward -the dining-room beside him, and thanked him -with great effusiveness for the delicious candy.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span> -To all which he answered by the not very -relevant response, uttered half under his -breath:</p> - -<p>“Never mind, madam! I’ll settle with you -for this.”</p> - -<p>Margaret, of course, was <i>vis-à-vis</i> to Louis -Gaston at the table, and while both joined in -the general conversation which ensued, she -perceived, by her quick glances, that he was a -man of not more than medium height, with a -straight and well-carried figure and a dark-skinned, -intelligent face. He had dark eyes, -which were at once keen and thoughtful, and -very white teeth under his brown mustache. -Although in undoubted possession of these -good points, she did not set him down as a -handsome man, though his natural advantages -were enhanced by the fact that he was dressed -with the most scrupulous neatness in every detail, -the very cut of his short dark hair, parted -straight in the middle, and brushed smoothly -down on top of his noticeably fine head, and -the well-kept appearance of his rather long<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span> -finger-nails, giving evidence of the fact that -his toilet was performed with punctilious care.</p> - -<p>It was something very new, and at the same -time very pleasant to Margaret, to observe -these little points in a person whose first and -strongest impression upon her had been that -of genuine manliness. In Bassett, the young -men allowed their hair to grow rather long and -uneven; and when, for some great occasion, -they would pay a visit to the barber, the shorn -and cropped appearance they presented afterward -was so transforming as to make it necessary -for their friends to look twice to be sure -of their identity. As to their nails, in many -instances these were kept in check by means -of certain implements provided by nature for -purposes of ruthless demolition, and when this -was not the case they were left to work their -own destruction, or else hurriedly disposed of -in the intervals of vehement stick-whittling. -Not a man of them but would have set it down -as effeminate to manifest the scrupulous care in -dress which was observable in Louis Gaston,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span> -and it was upon this very point that Margaret -was reflecting when Gaston’s voice recalled her.</p> - -<p>“I’m uncommonly glad to get home, Eugenia,” -he said, tasting his wine, as the servant -was removing his soup-plate. “I think Ames -is beginning to find out that this Washington -office is a mere subterfuge of mine, and that -the real obstacle to my settling down in New -York is my fondness for the domestic circle. I -really wish Edward could manage to get sent -to Governor’s Island. I must confess I should -prefer New York as a residence, if I could be -accompanied by my household gods and my -tribe. Shouldn’t you, Miss Trevennon?”</p> - -<p>Margaret had been sitting quite silent for -some time, and Gaston, observing this, purposely -drew her into the conversation, a thing -his sister-in-law would never have done, for the -reason that she had observed that her young -cousin possessed the not very common charm -of listening and looking on with a perfect -grace.</p> - -<p>“I have never been to New York,” said Margaret,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span> -in answer to this direct appeal, “and I -have only a limited idea of its advantages as a -place of residence, though I don’t doubt they -are very great.”</p> - -<p>“They are, indeed,” said Louis, observing -her with a furtive scrutiny across the graceful -mass of bloom and leafage in the <i>épergne</i>. -“You will like it immensely.”</p> - -<p>“If I ever make its acquaintance,” said Margaret, -smiling. “Washington seemed to me -the border-land of the Antipodes before I came -here, and I have never thought of going beyond -it.”</p> - -<p>“You have lived, then, altogether in the -South?” said Gaston, with a tinge of incredulity -in his voice, so faint as to escape Margaret, -but perfectly evident to Mrs. Gaston, for the -reason, perhaps, that she was listening for -it.</p> - -<p>“Yes, altogether,” Margaret answered.</p> - -<p>“My poor little cousin is in a most benighted -condition,” Mrs. Gaston said. “She has -not only never been to New York, but—only<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> -think!—until to-day she never heard of Ames -& Gaston!”</p> - -<p>“Impossible! Unbelievable!” said Louis. -“Was it for this that they designed ‘All Saints,’ -and have even been mentioned in connection -with the new skating-rink? Eugenia, you are -a true friend. It will not be necessary for me -to carry a slave about with me to remind me -that I am a man, like the great monarch we -read of in history; a sister-in-law is a capital -substitute and performs her office quite as -faithfully.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it is well for me,” said Margaret, -smiling demurely, “that I began my list of ignorances -with such an imposing one; it will -make those that follow seem trivial by comparison.”</p> - -<p>“There is wisdom in what you say, Miss -Trevennon,” said Louis; “and if you wish to -impress yourself with the magnitude of the -present one, get Eugenia to take you to see -‘All Saints.’”</p> - -<p>The conversation now turned into other channels,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span> -and it was not until Margaret was saying -good-night to Mrs. Gaston, in the latter’s dressing-room, -that she reverted to this subject.</p> - -<p>“I can well believe that Mr. Gaston is a -clever architect,” she said, “his eye is so keen -and steady. I should like to see some of his -work. This ‘All Saints’ Church is very beautiful, -I suppose. Shall we really go to see it -some day?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Gaston broke into her little light laugh.</p> - -<p>“That’s a piece of nonsense of Louis’, my -dear,” she said. “It’s a cheap little mission -chapel, built by a very poor congregation in a -wretched part of the town. The Travers girls -got Louis interested in it, and he made them -the designs and estimates and superintends its -erection. Of course he charged them nothing; -in fact, I believe he subscribed a good deal -toward it himself. He is amused at the idea -of their calling it ‘All Saints,’ and making it -such a comprehensive memorial. He and his -partner have designed some really beautiful -buildings here, however, which I will show<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span> -you. Louis is very clever, don’t you think -so?”</p> - -<p>“I hardly feel able to judge, yet,” said Margaret, -“but if you say so, I will believe it, for -since I’ve been with you, Cousin Eugenia, I -begin to think I never knew any one before -who was clever.”</p> - -<p>“Why are you always forcing one to remind -you of your ignorance, child?” retorted Mrs. -Gaston, laughing lightly. “This is the most -convincing proof we have had of it yet.”</p> - -<p>As Margaret went up to say good-night, she -felt a strong impulse to express some of the -ever-ready affection which her cousin’s kindness -had awakened in her heart; but Cousin -Eugenia was a woman to whom it was very -hard to be affectionate, and she thwarted her -young cousin’s intention now by turning her -cheek so coolly that the ardent words died on -the girl’s lips. Mrs. Gaston was naturally unsympathetic, -and it almost seemed as if she -cultivated the quality. However that might -be, it was certain that, at the end of a month<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span> -spent in daily companionship with this bright -and agreeable cousin, Margaret was obliged to -admit to herself that she had not taken one step -toward the intimate friendship she would have -liked to establish between them. Her cousin -was kindness itself, and always companionable -and agreeable, but she was scarcely ever really -serious, although she had at hand a reserve of -decorous gravity which she could always draw -upon when occasion required.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">“EUGENIA,” said Louis Gaston, tapping -at his sister-in-law’s door one morning, -“I stopped to say that I will get tickets for -Miss Trevennon and yourself for the opera -Monday evening, if you say so.”</p> - -<p>“<i>I</i> don’t say so, my dear Louis, I assure -you,” returned Mrs. Gaston opening her door -and appearing before him in a tasteful morning -toilet. “If you take Margaret and me to the -opera, it must be for your own pleasure; she -is not the kind of guest to hang heavily on her -hostess’ hands. I’ve never been at a loss for -her entertainment for a moment since she has -been here, and what is more, scarcely ever for -my own. I find myself quite equal to the task -of providing for her amusement, and so it has -not been difficult for me to keep my promise of -not calling upon you in her behalf.”</p> - -<p>“You certainly never made me any such<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span> -promise as that, and it would have been very -absurd if you had.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, perhaps then it was to Margaret that -I made it! The main point is that I’ve kept -it.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, Eugenia, it goes without saying, -that when you have a young guest in the house -my services are at your disposal.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, certainly. Only, in this instance, I -prefer to let all suggestions come from yourself. -I know you only put up with my Southern relatives -because of your regard for me, and, -strong as is my faith in that sentiment, I don’t -want to test it too severely; but I won’t detain you. -Mrs. Gaston and Miss Trevennon -accept with pleasure Mr. Gaston’s kind invitation -for Monday evening. The opera is -<i>Favorita</i>—isn’t it? Margaret has never heard -it, I know; it will be very nice to initiate her. -Will you be at home to dinner to-day?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, of course,” replied the young man, -looking back over his shoulder as he walked -away.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span>“Oh, of course!” soliloquized his sister-in-law, -as she turned back into her apartment. -“Quite as if you were never known to do otherwise! -Oh, the men! How facile they are! -Louis, as well as the rest! I had expected -something to come of this case of propinquity, -but I did <i>not</i> expect it to come so quickly. He -hasn’t dined out more than twice since she’s -been here, and then with visible reluctance, -and he has only been once to New York, and I -suspect the designs are suffering. And Margaret -too! It’s quite the same with her—saying -to me last night that his manners are so -fine that she is constrained to admit that, taking -Louis as an exponent of the Northern system, -it must be better than the one she had -always supposed to be the best! It works -rapidly both ways, but there must be a hitch -before long, for in reality they are as far asunder -as the poles. Every tradition and every -prejudice of each is diametrically opposed to -the other. How <i>will</i> it end, I wonder?”</p> - -<p>It happened that Mrs. Gaston did an unusual<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span> -amount of shopping and visiting that day, and -was so fatigued in consequence that she had -dinner served to her in her own apartment, and -Margaret dined alone with the two gentlemen. -Afterward she went up and spent an hour -with the vivacious invalid, whom she found lying -on the bed, surrounded by an array of paper -novels by miscellaneous authors, the titles of -which were of such a flashy and trashy order -that Margaret felt sure she would never have -cared to turn the first page of any of them, and -wondered much that her intelligent and cultivated -cousin could find the least interest in -their contents. Mrs. Gaston was in the habit -of ridiculing these novels herself, but would -say, with a laugh, that they were “the greatest -rest to her,” and Margaret was continually expecting -to find her immersed in some abstruse -work, which would sufficiently tax her mental -powers to account for the liberal allowance of -relaxation which was to counteract it; but, so -far, she had been disappointed.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Gaston laid her novel by on Margaret’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span> -entrance, and gave her young cousin a cordial -welcome. The two sat talking busily until General -Gaston came up to his dressing-room to prepare -for a lecture to which he was going, and to -which he offered to take Margaret. His wife -put her veto on that plan, however, pronouncing -it a stupid affair, and saying that Margaret -would be better entertained at home.</p> - -<p>“But you are not to stay up here with me, -my dear,” she said. “Go down stairs. Some -one will be coming in by-and-by, I dare say, -and you must not think of coming back to -entertain me. I am bent on seeing how this -absurd story ends; it’s the most deliciously -preposterous thing I ever read,—so bad, that -it’s good! Say good-night now, dear. I know -you are never dull; so I dismiss you to your -own devices. I don’t know where Louis is, -but he may come and join you after a while. -There’s never much counting on him, however.”</p> - -<p>When Margaret descended to the drawing-room, -the library doors were thrown apart, and -through them she could see Louis Gaston bending<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span> -over some large sheets of heavy paper, on -which he was drawing lines by careful measurement. -He looked up at the sound of her footsteps, -and, as she took a magazine from the -table, and seated herself in a large chair before -the fire, he came in with his pencil in his hand, -and leaning his back against the end of the -mantel, said:</p> - -<p>“Eugenia tells me you have never seen -<i>Favorita</i>, and I so rejoiced to put an end to -that state of affairs! You don’t know what an -absolute refreshment it has been to me to -observe your enjoyment of the music you have -heard since you have been here. I don’t think -I have ever received from any one such an impression -of a true appreciation of music. It -seems rather odd, as you neither play nor sing -yourself.”</p> - -<p>“It pleases me to think that my own incapacity -does not interfere in the least with -my enjoyment of music,” Margaret said. -“When I hear beautiful music my pleasure in -it is not impaired by any feeling of regret that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span> -I cannot produce such a thing myself. It no -more occurs to me to long for that, than to -long to create a beautiful sunset when I see -one.”</p> - -<p>“The fact that one is attainable, while the -other is not, would make a difference, I think.” -He paused a moment, and then went on with -his pleasant smile: “Do you know this discovery -of mine—that of your fastidious appreciation -of music—has been the thing that -deterred me from inflicting any of my own upon -you? I was so set against this that I made -Eugenia promise not to acquaint you with the -fact that I can sing a little.”</p> - -<p>“How could you do that?” exclaimed Margaret, -reproachfully, with a keen conception of -what lovely effects in singing might be produced -by this richly modulated voice, whose -spoken utterances she so admired. “I might -have had such delight in hearing you sing! I -am accustomed to having music so constantly -at home. We have a friend there, a young -man, who is almost like one of our own household,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span> -who sings beautifully. He has a lovely -voice, so pure and strong, but entirely uncultivated. -In some things it shows this almost -painfully, but there are others that he renders -exquisitely. Sacred music he sings best.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, that I have never tried, at least not -much. Your friend’s voice is the opposite of -mine. I had really very little to begin with, -and an immense deal of practice and training -has not enabled me to do much more than direct -properly the small amount of power I possess, -and disguise its insufficiency more or less. It -isn’t very much, after all, and yet how I have -pegged away at my scales and exercises! I had -a most exacting master when I was in Germany, -and as I was studying my profession at -the same time, I wore myself almost to a skeleton. -I studied very hard at the School of -Architecture, but I never practised less than -three hours a day—often four.”</p> - -<p>He was talking on, very lightly, but he -stopped short, arrested by an expression on -the face of his companion that he was at a loss<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span> -to account for. There was a look of enthusiastic -ardor in her eyes that amounted to positive -emotion.</p> - -<p>“How can you speak so lightly of a thing -that was really so noble?” she said, in a voice -full of feeling.</p> - -<p>Louis’ face broke into a smile of sheerest -astonishment, but at the same time he felt -himself strangely stirred by the feeling that he -had roused this warm admiration in the breast -of this fair young lady.</p> - -<p>“My dear Miss Trevennon,” he said earnestly, -“you amaze me by applying such a -word to my conduct. I went abroad to study -architecture and music, and there was every -reason why I should make the most of the -three years I had allotted to these purposes. -That I did my part with some degree of thoroughness -was only what I felt bound to do, in -the simplest justice to myself and others. -When I think of the fellows who accomplished -twice what I did, contending against such obstacles -as poverty, or ill-health, or the absence<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span> -of proper facilities, I find the word <i>noble</i>, as -applied to myself, almost humiliating. Do -you know, your views on some points are extremely -puzzling to me?”</p> - -<p>“I am at sea,” said Margaret gently, with a -hesitating little smile. “Things that I see -about me seem strange and unfamiliar, and I -often feel that I have lost my bearings. But -your resolute application to studies that must -often have been wearying and laborious, to the -exclusion of the relaxations most young men -find necessary, rouses my profound admiration. -I have never known a man who was capable of -a thing like that.”</p> - -<p>“Will you do me the kindness to tell me if I -am blushing?” said Louis. “I veritably believe -so, and as it is a thing I have never been -known to do before, I should like to have the -occurrence certified to. I venture to hope, -however, that the fact is accounted for by my -being physically thick skinned, and not morally -so, for I have known myself to be blushing -when the fact would not have been suspected<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span> -by outsiders. Just now, however, I fancy it -must have been evident to the most casual -observer.”</p> - -<p>He saw that the levity of his words and -tones were, for some reason, discordant to Miss -Trevennon, and so he spoke in a graver voice, -as he said:</p> - -<p>“I feel musical to-night, and almost as if I -could overcome the hesitation I have spoken -of sufficiently to sing you some of the music -of <i>Favorita</i> in anticipation of Monday night.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, why don’t you? It would be so delightful!” -exclaimed Margaret, fired at the -suggestion.</p> - -<p>“I never feel that I can sing well when I -have to play my own accompaniments,” he -said. “But for that——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, if you have the music, do let me play -for you!”</p> - -<p>“Could you do it? I thought you did not -play. Have you also been practising concealment?”</p> - -<p>“My music amounts to nothing, but I could<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> -easily manage an accompaniment. Have you -the notes?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, just at hand. What a delightful idea! -I never thought of this. You shouldn’t have -cheated me out of such a pleasure all this -time. Let me open the piano. Come!”</p> - -<p>He tossed his pencil down upon the table, -and moved across the room as he spoke. Seeing -his action, Margaret checked herself as -she was following, and said suddenly:</p> - -<p>“I forgot your work. I really cannot interfere -with that.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind the work. The work may go. -I’ll make it up somehow. Could you manage -this, do you think?”</p> - -<p>By way of answer, Margaret seated herself -and ran over the prelude with tolerable ease, -and at the proper time nodded to him to begin.</p> - -<p>There was no interruption until the really -impressive voice had died away in the last -note, and then Margaret dropped her hands on -her lap and said, with a long-drawn breath:</p> - -<p>“I can see no lack. It is most beautiful. I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> -think you must have greatly under-estimated -your voice. It has a quality that touches me -deeply.”</p> - -<p>“What there is of it does pretty well,” Louis -answered, smiling, well pleased at her earnest -commendation. “Ames says I’m the best -singer to have no voice that he ever heard, -which is the greatest amount of praise I can -lay claim to.”</p> - -<p>“I feel more than ever, now, the lack of cultivation -in Mr. Somers’ voice,” said Margaret. -“It is really a grand organ, but he scarcely -knows how to sing anything with entire correctness, -unless it is something in which he has -been carefully drilled by some one who knows a -little more than himself. I wish he could hear -you sing.”</p> - -<p>“I wish I could hear him,” said Louis. “If -he has the voice, the cultivation can be acquired -readily enough; but with me the utmost -has been done. Much of this music is rather -beyond me. Let us try a ballad.”</p> - -<p>He was bending over the rack, in search of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span> -some particular piece, when the door-bell -sounded. They both heard it, and their eyes -met with a look of disappointment.</p> - -<p>“It’s too bad,” said Margaret, regretfully. -“I don’t want to be interrupted.”</p> - -<p>“In that case,” said Louis, promptly, arresting -the servant on his way to the door by a -quick motion of the hand, “suppose you allow -me to have the ladies excused.”</p> - -<p>Margaret assented readily, and the order -was accordingly given.</p> - -<p>A moment later the servant came into the -room, presenting two cards on a tray. Gaston -glanced at them, and Margaret saw his face -change slightly.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid Eugenia will make me suffer -for this,” he said. “One of these visitors was -young Leary.”</p> - -<p>“Who is he?” asked Margaret, simply.</p> - -<p>“You surely know who the Learys are?” -Gaston replied, in a tone of reproachful incredulity -that was almost severe. “They come -of one of the most distinguished families at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> -North, and are here for the winter. The father -of this young man has held various important -diplomatic and political offices. They visit very -little, and Eugenia will be annoyed that young -Leary has not been admitted. I don’t think -he has ever called here before, except to -acknowledge an invitation. He sat near us at -the theatre the other night, and I saw that he -observed you; so this visit is probably a tribute -to you.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know that you have said anything -about him to make me regret him especially,” -said Margaret, “only that he’s Mr. Leary; and -what’s in a name? Is there any reason why -one should particularly desire him as an acquaintance?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Gaston looked slightly bewildered. -Then he began to speak, and checked himself -suddenly. Then, turning back to the piano, -and beginning to look over the music, he said, -somewhat hurriedly:</p> - -<p>“It is only that they are people it’s well to -be civil to.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span>There was something in the tone Louis took, -in regard to this matter, that puzzled Margaret—a -tone that had also puzzled her in the other -members of the Gaston family. There seemed -to be a certain anxiety with all of them to -know the right people, and be seen at the -proper houses, and have only the best people -at their own. Margaret Trevennon, for her -part, had never had a qualm of this sort in her -life, and supposed, moreover, that only vulgar -or uncertainly posed people could possibly be -subject to them. And yet here were people -who were not only not vulgar but more elegant -and charming than any men and women she -had ever known, who were entitled to, and -actually held, an unimpeachable social position, -and who yet seemed to find it necessary -to struggle hard to maintain it, and were continually -possessed by a positive anxiety to -appear to be distinguished! Really, it seemed -their first and principal concern. This was -the first time she had seen a decided indication -of the feeling in Louis Gaston, and somehow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span> -it hurt her more in him than in the others. -Unconsciously she gave a little sigh.</p> - -<p>“Dear me!” she thought to herself, “what -an unpleasant idea! Why need people assume -anything, when they actually have it all? It -never occurred to me that really nice people -could give themselves any concern of this sort.”</p> - -<p>And then, as she turned and suddenly met -Louis’ eyes, her face broke into a smile of sudden -amusement.</p> - -<p>“What is it?” said the young man, eagerly.</p> - -<p>“I was laughing at some lines from the -‘Bab Ballads’ that happened to come into my -head just then,” she said.</p> - -<p>“What were they? I dote upon the Babs. -Do let’s have them.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Lord Lardy would smile and observe,</div> -<div class="verse">‘How strange are the customs of France!’”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>quoted Margaret. “I dare say they don’t -seem very relevant. But come, let’s go on -with the music,” she added, hurriedly. “We -must not prolong the interruption.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span>Mr. Gaston had smiled at her quotation and -then become suddenly grave. As he selected -a sheet of music and put it on the rack before -her, he said seriously:</p> - -<p>“I sometimes see that there are little points -that we look at very differently. Perhaps we -may come to understand each other by-and-by. -I hope so, sincerely. And now, are you familiar -with this, and do you care for it?”</p> - -<p>The selection happened to be a favorite of -Margaret’s, and she entered delightedly into -its rendition, and very soon the lovely strains -of the sweet, sympathetic voice had banished -all discordant thoughts and memories.</p> - -<p>“There, Miss Trevennon,” he said, as the -song came to an end, “you’ve heard me do my -little best now. Your accompaniments suit -me perfectly. I am sure I never sang better. -I hope we may have many another pleasant -evening, such as this, together.”</p> - -<p>Margaret had risen from the piano and was -standing before the fire, and she watched him -with mingled interest and surprise, as he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span> -neatly replaced the music in the rack, lowered -the instrument, and carefully arranged the -cover, with a habit of orderliness of which she -had also seen indications in General Gaston. -It was to her almost a new trait, in men.</p> - -<p>“Cousin Eugenia insists upon early hours, -now that I am not going out,” said Margaret, -“so, as it is half-past ten, I will say good-night. -I feel rather guilty,” she added, pausing -in the door-way, “for interrupting your -work to-night. I dare say you wanted to finish -it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, as to that, it isn’t a matter of choice,” -he murmured; “Ames must have those estimates -to-morrow, and they are bound to go on -the morning train.”</p> - -<p>“And when are they to be done?”</p> - -<p>“Now, at once. I can easily finish them off -to-night,” he replied carelessly. “Pray don’t -look as if you had committed a mortal sin, Miss -Trevennon,” he added, smiling. “I assure you -I don’t weigh this little nocturnal application -as dust in the balance against the pleasure<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span> -I’ve had in this musical evening with you. I -hope it is not on my account you are hurrying -off. I assure you there is abundance of time -for my purposes. I shall take these papers to -my room and finish them.”</p> - -<p>But Margaret, bent upon not hindering him -further, retired at once.</p> - -<p>The next morning Mrs. Gaston asked her -brother-in-law at breakfast, whether he had -not passed her room about sunrise, and, with -some confusion, he was compelled to own that -he had.</p> - -<p>“What provoking ears you have, Eugenia!” -he said; “I flattered myself that a mouse could -not have been more noiseless. I am sorry to -have disturbed you, especially as you had not -been feeling well.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I was awake, at any rate. But what -was the occasion of your early expedition?” -she asked, without showing any especial surprise.</p> - -<p>“I had to post some papers to Ames,” he -said; “and though I had told Thomas I would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span> -ring for him to take them, the morning was so -bright and clear that I fancied I should like -the walk. And really it was most refreshing.”</p> - -<p>“I can fancy you needed refreshment,” Mrs. -Gaston said, “if, as I don’t doubt, you had -been at work all night.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Gaston made no response. He was -helping himself from a dish offered by a servant -at the moment, and seemed disposed to -let the matter drop; but Margaret, urged by an -irresistible impulse, arrested his eye and said -quickly:</p> - -<p>“Had you?”</p> - -<p>“Had I what, Miss Trevennon?”</p> - -<p>“Had you been at work all night?”</p> - -<p>“Pretty much, I believe; but why do you -look so tragic? I am not in delicate health, -that the lack of a little sleep should entail -serious consequences.”</p> - -<p>“‘Pleasure the way you like it’!” said Mrs. -Gaston. “Louis really likes that sort of thing; -he deserves no credit for it. I used to apprehend -that I should find myself brother-in-law-less<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span> -very shortly in consequence of those -habits, but he thrives on them; he’s the healthiest -person I know. Don’t waste your sympathy -on him, Margaret; keep it all for me. It -isn’t those who endure hardships, but those -who can’t endure them that should be pitied.”</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">THE season was now fairly opened, and Mrs. -Gaston kept her young guest liberally -supplied with amusement. There were all -sorts of entertainments for them to go to, some -of which Margaret found very inspiring and -delightful, and some extremely dull. Cousin -Eugenia, however, found nothing unprofitable. -Every visit and every entertainment served -some purpose, in her abstruse economy, and, if -she failed to derive actual diversion from any, -it still fulfilled some end, and in some manner -was turned to account.</p> - -<p>She would take Margaret with her on the -endless round of afternoon calls that she made, -never doubting that she was conferring an immense -favor on her young country cousin, until -the latter begged to be excused from some of -them, confessing that they wearied her. This -was a great surprise to Cousin Eugenia, who<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span> -cherished the honest conviction that every opportunity -of catching a glimpse of the great -world of fashion must perforce be esteemed a -high privilege and delight by this little Southern -cousin, whom she pitied profoundly for her -necessary isolation from such sources of happiness. -Margaret was perfectly aware of this, -and secretly much amused at it. That Cousin -Eugenia, or any one, should commiserate her -upon her lot in life was something very strange -to her, for she had always known herself to be -a very happy and fortunate girl.</p> - -<p>“The Kellers give such stupid parties!” -said Cousin Eugenia one evening, as she and -Margaret were returning from a large entertainment. -“I haven’t missed one of them for -the past five years, and they are asphyxiating -affairs. I’m glad this one is well over.”</p> - -<p>“Why do you go to them, then?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, every one does. At least every one -who can. You saw how full the rooms were -this evening, and yet every one there was -bored.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span>“I was, undoubtedly,” said Margaret, “and -for that reason I should certainly not go -again.”</p> - -<p>“You can afford to be independent, my dear, -being here only on a visit, but if you lived in -Washington you’d soon find that it was desirable -for you to be seen at the Kellers’.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, because of their position.”</p> - -<p>Margaret was silent a moment, and then she -said impulsively:</p> - -<p>“Do excuse my asking such a thing, Cousin -Eugenia, but I really want to understand. -Could it possibly enhance your social value to -be seen anywhere?”</p> - -<p>Cousin Eugenia gave a little shrug.</p> - -<p>“You put things so oddly, child, with your -Southern notions! Of course our social position -is fixed and definite and nobody would -dispute it. But, large as the Kellers’ circle is, -their parties are very <i>recherché</i>, and it’s well -worth while to be seen there.”</p> - -<p>“I thought——” began Margaret.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span>“Well, go on,” said her cousin, as the girl -hesitated. “Out with it. Let me hear.”</p> - -<p>“I was only going to say that I thought a -lady, born and reared, never had to think of -anything like that.”</p> - -<p>“Like what?”</p> - -<p>“Where she is seen and whether her associations -will be considered correct. I thought -that it would all come of itself—that a lady -would not be in danger of making mistakes of -that sort, because what she did would be the -natural outgrowth of what she was.”</p> - -<p>“Those may be the Southern ideas, but -you’d not find them to answer here.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know whether they are Southern -ideas or not,” said Margaret; “I never knew -they were ideas at all. Certainly, I have never -heard them formulated before, and I don’t -quite know how to express myself. They simply -seem to me instincts.”</p> - -<p>“That’s because of the associations you -have had,” said Mrs. Gaston. “I have seen -very little of your parents of late years, but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span> -they have lived in my mind as people of thorough -refinement. Your father is a model of a -gentleman—the most high-bred man I ever -knew, I think.”</p> - -<p>A radiant light came into Margaret’s face.</p> - -<p>“My darling, dear old father!” she said, -fondly. “There is surely no one like him, and -yet if I were to repeat your compliment to him, -how amazed he would be! He has not an -idea how fine he is, and has never once -paused to consider whether he is high-bred or -not. He would not hurt the feelings of the -lowest wretch on earth—there is no one too -mean for his kindly consideration. May I tell -you an idea that has occurred to me, when I’ve -been in society here, surrounded by such well-dressed, -elegant looking, accomplished men, -and have compared them to him? It is that -they are all trying to be what he is.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Gaston did not reply at once, but her -silence proceeded from no feeling of intolerance -of this sentiment. She was not at all given -to resenting things, partly because of a natural<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span> -indolence, and partly because she did not feel -enough on any subject to be biassed by impulse.</p> - -<p>“I can understand your having that feeling -about your father,” she said, presently, “and -it’s quite possible it may be true. We will -submit the point when we find any one wise -enough to decide it for us. But the world -is large, and there are many men and many -minds, and manners vary in different places. -That line of tactics would not do in Washington.”</p> - -<p>At this point in their conversation they -found themselves at home, and the subject was -consequently dropped.</p> - -<p>It happened about this time that some of -Mrs. Gaston’s wide circle of Southern connections, -who were always cropping up in Washington, -came to the city, and Cousin Eugenia -took Margaret and went to call upon—or, as -she did not hesitate to put it, to inspect them. -They were a General and Mrs. Reardon, the -former an ex-Confederate officer, who had been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span> -previously in the United States army, and who -was distantly related to both Mrs. Gaston and -Margaret, though neither of them had anything -more than a slight acquaintance with -him.</p> - -<p>Margaret soon perceived that Cousin Eugenia -did not consider them up to the mark socially—a -fact which was further evidenced by their -being invited to lunch, and not to dinner, next -day. No one was asked to meet them, and -Mrs. Gaston excused the gentlemen on the -score of business hours. Margaret noted the -whole proceeding, and saw through it and beyond -it. Cousin Eugenia was perfectly polite -and pleasant—extremely sweet, in fact—and -yet there was something in her manner toward -these simple Southern people, of a type so -familiar to Margaret Trevennon, that the girl -involuntarily resented. She showed none of -this feeling to Mrs. Gaston, however, for she -was beginning to understand that, although -that clever lady in matters of abstract theory -appeared to be most reasonable and open to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> -conviction, she was adamant itself in carrying -out her peculiar designs and purposes, -and quite unused to interference from any -one.</p> - -<p>The Reardons came next day, according to -appointment, and the little luncheon-party -passed off very pleasantly, greatly owing to -Margaret’s efforts to make it do so.</p> - -<p>When the guests were taking leave, they -asked if Mrs. Gaston and Margaret would not -go with them to an Art Exhibition in the evening. -The proposal came, in a subdued and -deprecating sort of way, from Mrs. Reardon, -who was still young and pretty enough to be -somewhat eager for pleasure, and although -Mrs. Gaston declined it for herself, on the -score of indisposition, she encouraged Margaret -to go, and the latter very willingly agreed -to do so.</p> - -<p>She went accordingly, and was pretty well -entertained with what she saw, recognizing -some acquaintances, among whom was young -Mr. Leary, who had been sufficiently persevering<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span> -to call again, with better success -next time, and who had always been especially -polite to Margaret on meeting her in society. -Shortly before leaving, an acquaintance of -General Reardon’s came up, to whom Margaret -was presented. He was a Major King, a -Southern man, as Margaret somehow divined -at a glance, and a resident of Washington, as -it soon appeared. Before the party separated, -he inquired where Miss Trevennon was staying, -and asked her permission to call upon -her. Margaret yielded the permission, of -course, but with a strange feeling of reluctance; -she saw that, though a familiar type of -Southern man, he was not a favorable one. -There was a sort of aggressive self-confidence -in his bearing, which was unpleasant enough -to her, but which she knew would be positively -offensive to the prejudiced minds of -the Gastons. He belonged to a class she knew -well—men whose range of vision had been -limited, but who were possessed of a feeling -of superiority to others in general, and an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> -absolute conviction of superiority to the best -Yankee that ever lived. It was an attitude of -mind that had always irritated her, but she -had never felt the force of it with such indignation -as now, when she was being hourly impressed -with the worth and superior qualities -of these people whom her Southern compatriots -regarded with such scorn. If Major -King should come to call, however, she could -feel confident that he would not betray the -presence of this vindictive feeling, for, despite -her disapproval of his tone and manner in -general, she felt that she could count upon -his possessing a spirit of courtesy, a hidden -germ of which she had rarely found wanting -in a Southern man’s breast.</p> - -<p>Margaret mentioned, at breakfast next morning, -the fact of her having met Major King, -and inquired of her friends if they knew him. -The two gentlemen were silent, and Mrs. -Gaston replied by a simple negative. She had -intended to mention the fact that he had proposed -to call upon her, but some instinct prevented<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span> -her doing so. Very probably he would -not come; and, besides, she had an indefinable -feeling that there was danger in the -topic.</p> - -<p>It had become a habit with Margaret to go -from the breakfast-table to the bow-window, -on the corner of the house, to watch for the -coming of the postman, and recently Mr. Gaston -had fallen into the way of accompanying -her. As the two young people found themselves -together in the richly curtained recess, -Margaret turned to her companion, with a -smile, and said:</p> - -<p>“Mr. Leary was there last night. He talked -to me for quite half an hour. Ought I to -have been elated?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly not,” replied the young man, -frowning slightly. “Why do you ask such a -thing? The idea is quite absurd.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, isn’t it?” said Margaret, smiling. -“He has so little sense, and he talks so much -about himself. Here comes the postman!” -She broke off suddenly, running to open the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span> -door herself, never divining that it would have -been considered more decorous to wait until -Thomas came up from the lower regions, and, -with his usual deliberation, brought in the -letters on his silver tray.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">IT happened one evening, a few days later -on, that Margaret found herself once more -<i>tête-à-tête</i> with Louis Gaston. General and Mrs. -Gaston had gone to a dinner, from which Margaret -was not sorry to be excused.</p> - -<p>It was a cold and rainy evening in December, -and the drawing-room, with its rich drapery -and soft, deep Persian carpeting, was delightfully -comfortable and warm, the wind, as it -whistled and blustered outside, adding to this -effect. The bright lights which hung from -the ceiling, together with the glowing fire in -the grate, shed a perfect wealth of warmth and -radiance around, and brought out the delicious -fragrance of the fresh flowers, which filled a -china bowl on a distant table. Louis, as on -the former occasion, bent over the table, just -within the library door, with his back toward -the drawing-room, and Margaret, as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> -before, sat in the deep arm-chair before the -fire.</p> - -<p>“This is the lucky chance that I’ve been -waiting for,” said Gaston, turning to look at -Margaret, as she settled herself with her book. -“It is such a bad evening that I think we may -hope for an immunity from visitors, and in a few -minutes I shall lay by my work and come and -try some new music I’ve provided, if you agree.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be charmed,” said Margaret, with -ready acquiescence. “I feel just in the humor -for it. I utterly repel the proposition, however, -if you are going to sit up all night in -consequence.”</p> - -<p>“I will not, I assure you. It is not necessary, -in the least. I’ll just finish off a small -bit that I am engaged on at present, and then -put the rest by until to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>He returned to his work, and Margaret to -her reading, and for a few moments the silence -was unbroken, save by the sound of the wind -and rain outside, and the soft little noises -made by Louis with his pencil and rule.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span>Suddenly the door-bell rang, and, as before, -they looked at each other regretfully. Louis -was about to make the same proposition that -his companion had responded to so promptly -on the former occasion, but a look at Margaret’s -face checked him. An instinct which she -scarcely understood herself, made it impossible -for her to do a thing like that now. The -fact that she was conscious of feeling a strong -liking for Louis, restrained her from giving -such a proof of it as this would be.</p> - -<p>“I am sorry to give up the music,” she said -simply, as Thomas went by to the door, unchallenged. -“There is still room to hope that -it is a call that will not concern us.”</p> - -<p>For a moment this seemed likely, as there -was a short colloquy with Thomas at the door -before the visitor was admitted, and even after -that he lingered to remove his overcoat and -rubbers in the hall, with a deliberation that -implied a degree of familiarity that Margaret -could not identify as belonging to any visitor -at the house whom she had yet met.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span>The next moment, as Louis Gaston and herself -were both watching the door-way, Major -King appeared, tall, gaunt, and awkward, but -eminently self-possessed.</p> - -<p>His loosely hung, impractically tall figure -was clad in the inevitable shiny black “best -clothes,” that poor Margaret knew so well, even -to the cut of the long frock-coat, with its flapping -tails behind and its bagging, unhindered -fronts, between which was displayed, through -a premeditated opening in the vest, a modicum -of white shirt-front, interrupted for an inch -or so by the fastening of the upper buttons, -only to reveal itself in more generous expansiveness -higher up upon the Major’s manly -bosom.</p> - -<p>Margaret’s quick eye at once perceived the -incongruity of the whole situation, and warned -her of the necessity of effort on the part of -all to reconcile and overcome it. She went -forward and received Major King with the perfect -politeness which was as natural to her -as breathing, and then turned to present Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span> -Gaston, who, with the folding-doors of the -library opened wide, was quite as if he were -in the same room.</p> - -<p>Gaston’s aspect, at the first glance she gave -him, was absolutely startling to her. His -whole bearing had changed. He had risen -from his seat and turned toward the drawing-room, -and was standing by the table, very erect -and still. The expression of his face was repellant -to the last degree, the brows were contracted -in a slight but perceptible frown, and -the lips were shut with a firm severity.</p> - -<p>Margaret, as she mechanically named the -two men to each other, could not help drawing -a swift mental contrast between the gaunt -Southerner, whose features were, in reality, -the handsomer of the two, and the Northern -man, in his quiet evening dress, and wondering -why the latter looked so greatly the superior. -Mr. Gaston’s attitude, despite its stiffness, was -dignified and impressive, and Major King’s, -notwithstanding its ease, was slouching and -ungainly.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span>But the most significant point of contrast -came when each man, after his kind, acknowledged -the introduction.</p> - -<p>“Glad to meet you, sir,” said Major King, in -loud, reverberating tones, and made a motion -forward, as if to extend his hand. This impulse -was repressed, however, by the short, -supercilious bow with which the other responded, -pronouncing the two words, “Good-evening,” -with a chilling and clear-cut utterance -that formed the strongest possible contrast -to the stranger’s bluff and off-hand style -of address. Margaret observed that he did -not pronounce Major King’s name at all.</p> - -<p>The young girl watched this interchange of -greetings with a rush of conflicting emotions. -Indignation, shame, astonishment and real -pain fought for the predominance; but above -all, she was conscious of an instinct which -made her feel that the Southern man’s side -was her side.</p> - -<p>Mr. Gaston, as soon as the introduction was -over, resumed his seat at the library-table,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span> -and went on with his work, turning his back -squarely toward the drawing-room, an action -which made it impossible for Major King to -fail to realize that he was being intentionally -and deliberately slighted. How galling this -knowledge must be to a Southern man Margaret -well knew, and she felt all her sympathies -enlisted for Major King. With the keenest -anxiety she watched to see what his course -would be.</p> - -<p>With a slight flushing of the cheek and a -dark flashing of the eye, the tall Southerner seated -himself in a delicate little gilt chair, which -he proceeded to tip backward, until his heavy -weight caused the slight wood-work to creak -ominously. Then, in response to a brilliant -leader respecting the weather, thrown out by -poor Margaret in her extremity, he launched -into a fluent and somewhat irrelevant strain -of conversation, which soon made it evident -that he could go alone. His voice, alas! was -loud and self-asserting, and his whole manner -so arrogant and ill-bred that Margaret felt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> -her spirit of partisanship growing fainter and -fainter. One thing alone was clear to her, and -that was her own course. She heard Major -King with polite attention, and answered his -remarks, when his fluency would permit, with -entire courtesy. But Margaret was on the -rack the whole time as he talked on, loud, -familiar, and irritating. Louis Gaston, seated -just within the library door, heard every word—as -indeed he must have been deaf not to do—and -Margaret fancied she could detect an expression -of angry superciliousness in the very -attitude of the well-set shoulders and the inclination -of the close-cropped head.</p> - -<p>The minutes came and went, until they -mounted up to hours, and still Major King -sat and talked and laughed and told jokes with -a ghastly hilarity, which his companion found -it frightfully hard to respond to. Nine o’clock -struck—ten, eleven, and still he did not go! It -could not be that he was enjoying himself, for -the poor girl felt that he was secretly as uncomfortable -as herself, and, besides, he could<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span> -never have had a less entertaining companion. -She forced herself to attend, while he was giving -an account of a play he had seen the night -before, which must have been lame and impotent -enough in the first instance, but which -in the rehash was intolerable. She even -tried to laugh when he came to the amusing -parts, which he always indicated by laughing -loudly himself. But it was torture to her.</p> - -<p>All things have an end, however, an indisputable -proposition with which Margaret had -buoyed herself up repeatedly during this trying -visit, and at last Major King rose to go. He -was not going to be browbeaten into a hasty -retreat, however. Not he! He would take -his time about it, and by way of a parting assertion -of ease, he took up a handsome book -from the table, and after reading the title -aloud, with a jocular air and a somewhat defective -pronunciation, he tossed it down so -carelessly that the beautiful <i>edition de luxe</i> fell -to the floor, with its delicate leaves crushed -open beneath its heavy cover. He made no<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span> -effort to recover it, until he saw Margaret -stooping to do so, when he hastily picked it -up, and flung rather than placed it on the -table. When Margaret had shaken hands with -him, and said good-night, with no tinge of -abatement of the courtesy which had characterized -her conduct throughout, she looked -toward the library and saw that Mr. Gaston -had risen and turned toward them, bowing -to Major King with exactly the same motion -and expression as that with which he had -acknowledged their introduction. There was -one difference, however. The little frigid -bow was given in perfect silence, and not one -word of farewell was spoken. Major King responded -by a short, defiant nod, and a flashing -glance which might have surprised the other, -had he allowed his gaze to rest upon the visitor’s -face long enough to perceive it.</p> - -<p>There was a necessary delay in the hall over -the rubbers and overcoat, which it seemed to -Margaret that he put on with elaborate slowness, -and then, at last, the front door closed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span> -behind Major King with a loud, contemptuous -bang.</p> - -<p>The ordeal was over, but it left poor Margaret -with a heavy heart; she felt disgusted -with everything and everybody.</p> - -<p>“There’s not a pin to choose between them,” -she was saying to herself, “only Mr. Gaston -was the host, and Mr. Gaston is the more enlightened -man, and therefore more bound to -know better.”</p> - -<p>She was too angry to look at Louis, and was -leaving the room with a quiet “good-night,” -when the young man arrested her by saying, in -a tone of undisguised indignation:</p> - -<p>“Twenty minutes past eleven o’clock; and a -first visit too! This is intolerable!”</p> - -<p>Margaret looked straight into his eyes, with -a steady glance of scorn, that she made no -effort to disguise.</p> - -<p>“I dare say Major King was unaware of the -lateness of the hour,” she said, in a cool, high -tone. “Good-night, Mr. Gaston.”</p> - -<p>And she walked quietly out of the room, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span> -mounted the stairs to her own apartment, -angrier than she had been yet.</p> - -<p>She closed the door behind her, turned the -gas on full, and stretched herself out at her -whole length on the lounge, clasping her hands -under her head. Her thoughts were too confused -to be formulated, but the one that predominated -over all the rest was that she could -never like Louis Gaston again. She had the -feeling that would have made her wish to fight -him had she been a man.</p> - -<p>Major King’s conduct had been in the highest -degree reprehensible, but he had been led -on to it by the slights the other offered him. -And then, too, she had a keen perception of -what Major King’s opportunities had probably -been. He belonged to the class of impoverished -Southerners who had lost everything by the -war, and had probably spent most of the years -of his manhood in a small village, living in a -style that formed a strong contrast to the -affluence of his youth. His bearing, during -this trying evening, she attributed much to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span> -ignorance and much to the stinging sense of -failure and defeat, which the war had left on -so many Southern men. Added to all this, -there must have been a keen indignation at -the unjustness and insolence with which he -was treated by a man from whom he had a -right to expect common civility at least.</p> - -<p>But with Louis Gaston it was different. He -could not plead the excuse of isolation and -ignorance. He was a cultivated man of the -world, who had all the advantages of education, -travel, and wealth; and, more than all, -his offence was heinous, in a Southern mind, -because it had been committed against the -stranger within the gates.</p> - -<p>“Nothing can ever wipe it out,” she muttered -to herself; “the longer one thinks of it -the worse it grows. There are half-a-dozen -palliations for Major King, but for Mr. Gaston -there is not one. I am certain that Major -King, in spite of it all, would have been incapable -of treating his worst enemy so. What a -mortifying, humiliating experience!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span>And, with a gesture of disgust, Miss Trevennon -rose and walked to the dressing-table, -beginning slowly to unfasten her little ornaments, -in preparation for the night’s rest, -which, in her perturbed state of mind, was -very long in coming to her.</p> - -<p>Louis Gaston, meanwhile, left to his own -reflections, grew conscious of the fact that he -was feeling very uncomfortable. The sensation -was not by any means a new one. He had -harbored it, uninterruptedly, for the past three -hours, but it had undergone a change in kind -and degree. He was relieved from the intolerable -infliction of Major King’s presence, but -unrest in another form had entered his breast; -and though its nature was less tangible and aggressive, -it somehow seemed to strike deeper.</p> - -<p>He could not be blind to the fact that he -had offended Margaret, whose conduct during -the evening had really puzzled him as much -as his had puzzled her. How could she bear -to be pleasant and civil to a man like that? It -made him angry to think of the fellow’s daring<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> -even to speak to her, and he assured himself -that he had been perfectly right to pursue a -course which would free her from such an obnoxious -intrusion in future. And yet, under -it all, there was a glimmering, disturbing little -consciousness that he had somehow been in -the wrong. It was the first time in his life -that he had had occasion to distrust his social -methods, and he would not quite own to such -a state of mind now. There was, moreover, -another feeling at work within his breast, -which caused him to determine that he would -make some concessions, if necessary, to reinstate -himself in this young lady’s regard. It -was a thing which he knew he had heretofore -enjoyed, and he felt a strong reluctance to -giving it up.</p> - -<p>Neither were Louis Gaston’s slumbers as -serene and tranquil as usual that night. He -made some effort to return to his work, but he -found it impossible to fix his attention on it, -and so retired to bed to wait for the sleep that -was so strangely long in coming.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">WHEN Miss Trevennon appeared at breakfast, -the morning after Major King’s visit, -Mr. Gaston greeted her with more than his -usual cordiality, and for the first time addressed -her as “Miss Margaret.”</p> - -<p>The young lady replied to his morning salutation -with a composed civility, and gave no -sign of having observed the distinguished -familiarity with which she was treated. She -was quite her usual self during the meal, but -she said little to Louis Gaston, and he observed -that she did not voluntarily look at him. By -the time that breakfast was ended she had -managed, without awakening the least suspicion -on the part of the others, to convey to -Louis Gaston the conviction that she was set -like steel against him.</p> - -<p>It was at the same time depressing and inspiring -to the young man to perceive this. He<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> -was sorry to have this charming girl angry -with him, and yet he could well imagine how -pleasant a reconciliation with her would be. -He was certainly not a coxcomb, but he was -accustomed to good-humored handling by -women, and he had no misgivings as to his -ability to adjust the present little difficulty to -his entire satisfaction. Meantime, there she -sat opposite, looking very charming, with her -air of dainty reserve. The impertinent little -ignoramus, to pretend to set <i>him</i> right! He -smiled to himself at the absurdity of the -thought. The situation seemed to him extremely -piquant.</p> - -<p>He had already settled upon the remark with -which he would open the conversation, when -he should presently follow her into the bow-window -as usual, and he was therefore a little -disconcerted when Miss Trevennon passed out -of the dining-room by the door that opened -into the hall, and mounted the stairs to her own -room, whence she did not emerge until Louis, -after long waiting, had gone off down town.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span>Later in the day, when Margaret found herself -alone with Mrs. Gaston, she had some -thought of informing the latter of last night’s -occurrences, but upon reflection this appeared -so difficult that she gave it up. It was doubtful -if any good purpose could be served thereby, -and besides it would be very hard to describe -her own feelings with sufficient reserve -to avoid the rudeness of speaking unwarrantably -to Mrs. Gaston of the brother-in-law who -was such a favorite with her. Apart from all -this, though there had been no opportunity for -the positive manifestation of the feeling, it was -borne in upon her that Mrs. Gaston herself -would be found ranged on Louis’ side. So she -said nothing about the matter and listened to -Cousin Eugenia’s plans for the day just as -usual.</p> - -<p>There was another dinner on hand for this -evening, and Mrs. Gaston expressed her intention -of going out to recuperate her energies by -a drive before luncheon, and Margaret presently -left her, agreeing to join her, ready for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span> -the expedition, at twelve. In the hall she met -a servant with some letters, one of which -proved to be from her mother. This letter, -filled with all manner of little, familiar domestic -details, was read and re-read by Margaret -with a degree of feeling quite inconsistent -with the nature of its contents. The quiet -home-pictures presented such a contrast to -the annoyances recently encountered, that for -a while she heartily wished herself back at -Bassett.</p> - -<p>There was but one item of especial importance -in the letter, and that was the announcement -of the sudden return from Europe of Mrs. -Trevennon’s nephew, Alan Decourcy, an individual -who had long reigned in Margaret’s -mind and memory as a veritable Prince Charming, -who possessed to the letter every endowment -of nature and advantage of fortune which -the most exacting of maidens could have asked. -Margaret had not seen him since he had come -to man’s estate, but, as a boy, he had spent -much of each year at a country home near Bassett,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span> -owned by his mother, and she had always -looked upon him as the most fortunate and -gifted of beings. He was an only son, and his -sister, who was some years older than himself, -was now married and living in Baltimore. To -this sister Margaret had pledged herself for a -visit before returning to the South. How -pleasant it would be to meet Alan there! His -mother was now dead, and after finishing his -course at a Northern university he had gone -abroad for a year’s travel, but it was only at -the end of four years that he had now returned. -She wondered if he would prove to be as handsome -and charming as memory painted him! -His occasional letters had been very delightful, -and led her to believe that all the bright -promises of his youth had been fulfilled. And -now he had actually returned, and she was to -see him! Mrs. Trevennon wrote that she had -already sent him her daughter’s address in -Washington, saying that he must run over -from Baltimore and see her. She added that -her nephew had said that he would probably<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span> -linger a while in New York before joining his -sister, and so his movements were rather indefinite.</p> - -<p>The feelings which this announcement of -Alan Decourcy’s return awakened were contradictory. -Margaret was naturally very -anxious to see this charming cousin, but she -did not want him to come to see her in this -house; she hoped she might never have another -visitor here. Alan Decourcy was sure -to be all that was elegant and charming, but -since one person who had come to this house -to see her had been treated with such discourtesy -she wished for no more visitors. Already -she had begun to lay plans for the termination -of her visit, and she now resolved to -speak to Cousin Eugenia, on the subject of going -to Baltimore, as soon as the opportunity -should offer.</p> - -<p>“I wish I had Alan’s New York address,” -she said to herself; “I’d write and tell him I -would go to Baltimore, and so prevent his -coming here. What <i>would</i> papa and mamma<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span> -think if they knew I was staying at a house -where I could not ask my cousin to call upon -me, because I had no assurance that my visitors -would not be treated rudely? They would not -believe it. They simply could not understand -it. My dear old father! He would take my -letter to the light and read it over with his -spectacles on, to see if there was not some mistake -in his understanding of it. Once convinced, -however, I know well enough what his -course would be. He would write me to come -away at once.” And Margaret rose to prepare -for her drive with eyes that had grown moist at -these recollections of her far-off home.</p> - -<p>By the time that Cousin Eugenia sent to -summon her, however, Miss Trevennon had -recovered her composure, and when, a little -later, seated by her cousin’s side, she was -bowling swiftly over the smooth, hard pavements, -the exhilaration of the exercise had -roused her spirits to such buoyancy that small -annoyances, past and future, seemed trivial -enough to be ignored.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">HAVING assisted, humbly and admiringly, -at Mrs. Gaston’s elaborate dinner-toilet -that evening, Margaret followed the gracefully -cloaked and hooded figure down the stairs and -out to the door-steps, when she said a gay -good-bye to her cousin and General Gaston, and -turned and entered the house. She had been -informed that Louis Gaston also had an engagement, -and so she had the not unwelcome -prospect of a quiet evening to herself. There -were some things that she wanted leisure to -think out, calmly and deliberately, and as the -drawing-room looked very warm and inviting -she turned toward it, and had sunk into her -favorite chair before the fire, when she perceived, -for the first time, that the library doors -were thrown open and that Louis Gaston was -sitting there at work. The sight was an irritating -one. His very attitude and the set of his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> -firm, strong shoulders, recalled vividly her discomfiture -of the previous evening, and roused -all the quick indignation she had felt then. -She was about to withdraw at once, in the -hope that he might not have perceived her -entrance, when he turned suddenly, and, seeing -her, rose and came forward, his face wearing -its pleasantest smile, and his manner at its -easiest and friendliest.</p> - -<p>“Well, Cousin Margaret,” he said, “and so -they’ve left you behind! But I can assure you, -you needn’t regret it. The party is an old-fogy -affair, which will be long and tedious. -There’s some glory to be got out of it, I dare -say, but I’ll wager there isn’t much pleasure.”</p> - -<p>Margaret heard him deliver himself of these -affable observations with intense indignation. -“Cousin Margaret” indeed! Did he presume -to suppose for an instant, that he could atone -for the indignity he had offered her, and the -positive pain he had caused her, by a few -careless words of flattery and a caressing tone -of voice?</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span>“I shouldn’t have cared to go with them in -the least,” she answered coldly. “I am used -to quiet. Cousin Eugenia said you had an -engagement.”</p> - -<p>“So I have; but that can be postponed, as -also, I suppose, may be your meditations,” -answered Louis, feeling a keener zest in the -accomplishment of this reconciliation with -Margaret since he saw it was likely to cost him -some pains. “Suppose now you and I run off -to the theatre. There’s a pretty little play on -the boards, and we’ll take our chances for a -seat.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, I don’t care to go out this evening,” -responded Margaret, in the same voice.</p> - -<p>There was a moment’s silence, which might -have lasted longer, but for some symptoms of -flight on the part of Miss Trevennon, which the -young man saw and determined to thwart.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid,” he began, speaking with some -hesitation, “that I was so unfortunate as to -offend you in some way last night, when your -edifying visitor was here——”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span>“Please don’t refer to that episode, unless -you mean to apologize for what you did,” Margaret -interrupted him, with an inflection of controlled -indignation. “Your laughing at him -now does not mend matters.”</p> - -<p>The young man’s whole expression changed. -This was really a little too much.</p> - -<p>“Apologize!” he said quickly, a dark frown -gathering. “You are under some remarkable -delusion, Miss Trevennon, if you think I -acknowledge it to be a case for an apology. It -was a most presumptuous intrusion, and as -such I was compelled to resent it, on your -account as well as my own.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t let me be considered in the matter, I -beg,” said Margaret, with a little touch of -scorn. “I wish no such deed as that to be -done in my name.”</p> - -<p>“May I ask,” said Gaston, in a keen, distinct -voice, “whether your championship of this -gentleman is due to an admiration and endorsement -of his manner and conduct, or to the -more comprehensive fact of his being a Southerner?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span> -You Southerners are very clannish, I’ve -been told.”</p> - -<p>Margaret had always held herself to be -superior to sectional prejudices, but there was -something in his manner, as he said this, that -infuriated her.</p> - -<p>“We Southerners,” she answered, feeling a -thrill of pride in identifying herself with the -race that, by his looks and tones, he was so -scornfully contemning, “are not only a clannish -people, but also a courteous one, and the -very last and least of our number is incapable -of forgetting the sacred law of hospitality to a -guest.”</p> - -<p>Undoubtedly Miss Trevennon had forgotten -herself, but it was only for a moment. She -had said more than she meant to say, and she -checked herself with an effort, and added -hastily:</p> - -<p>“I much prefer not to pursue this subject, -Mr. Gaston. We will drop it just here, if you -please.”</p> - -<p>The fact that Mr. Gaston bowed calmly, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span> -quietly returned to his work, by no means -proved that he was in reality either calm or quiet. -It was only by a great effort of self-control that -he forced himself to be silent, for both the -words and tones that this young lady had used -were stingingly provoking. But what affected -him most was the stunning presumptuousness -of the whole thing. That this ignorant Southern -girl, who had passed most of her life in a -little insulated village, should venture to set -him right on a point which affected his bearing -as a man of the world, was infuriating. He -mentally assured himself that his conduct toward -the fellow, King, had been exactly what -it should have been, and, moreover, he determined -to take occasion to show Miss Trevennon -that he neither regretted nor desired to -apologize for it. He felt eager for an opportunity -to do this, and all his accustomed prejudices -and habits of mind grew deeper and -stronger.</p> - -<p>For a few moments longer they kept their -places in perfect silence, Margaret in her seat<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span> -before the fire and Gaston at the writing-table, -when suddenly the door-bell rang. Neither -moved nor spoke, and a few minutes later -Thomas announced a gentleman to see Miss -Trevennon.</p> - -<p>“Alan Decourcy!” exclaimed Margaret, -springing to her feet, in excited surprise, as -the gentleman approached. “Why, Alan, this -is unexpected!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Decourcy came nearer, and taking both -her hands in his, pressed them cordially.</p> - -<p>“It would be ungrateful of me not to recognize -my cousin Margaret, in this tall young -lady,” he said, looking at her with obvious -admiration in his calm, gray eyes, “and yet -it is only by an effort that I can do so.”</p> - -<p>At this instant Margaret remembered Louis, -whom, in the confusion of this meeting, she -had quite forgotten. She turned toward him, -naming the two men to each other, and to her -consternation she saw that he had risen, and -was standing erect, with exactly the same repellant -expression and attitude which he had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span> -assumed in greeting Major King the evening -before. With the same frigid manner he acknowledged -the present introduction, and after -that little icy bow, he seated himself at his -writing and turned his back, as before.</p> - -<p>Mr. Decourcy, meantime, had taken a chair, -from which Mr. Gaston’s attitude was perfectly -evident to him, but he showed quite as little -concern thereat as Major King had done. -And yet what a different thing was this form -of self-possession! Mr. Decourcy’s low-toned -sentences were uttered with a polished accent -that told, as plainly as all the words in the -dictionary could have done, that he was a man -of finished good-breeding. He treated Margaret -with an affectionate deference that she -could not fail to find extremely pleasing; inquired -for Mr. and Mrs. Trevennon, and said -he was determined to go down to see the old -home and friends before the winter was over; -told Margaret he was glad she had verified his -predictions by growing tall and straight; asked -if they still called her Daisy at home, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span> -whether it would be accounted presumptuous -for him to do so; said very little indeed of -himself and his travels, and at the end of about -fifteen minutes rose to take leave.</p> - -<p>Margaret quietly replied to all his questions, -and when he held out his hand to say good-bye, -she made no motion to detain him, by -word or sign.</p> - -<p>“I am going back to Baltimore in a day or -two,” he said, “and shall hardly see you -again, but I hope you will allow me to arrange -for a visit from you to my sister, to take place -very soon. When she writes to you on the -subject, as she will do at once, do let her find -you willing to co-operate with her.”</p> - -<p>While Margaret was uttering a hearty assent -to this plan, Louis Gaston, who had, of -course, heard all that had passed, was rapidly -casting about in his mind as to how he should -rescue himself from an odious position. There -was now no more time to deliberate. He -must act; and accordingly he came forward, -with a return to his usual manner, which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span> -Margaret had once thought so good, and said -frankly:</p> - -<p>“I happened to have an important bit of -work on hand, Mr. Decourcy, which it was -necessary for me to finish in haste. I have -been obliged, therefore, to forego the pleasure -of making your acquaintance, but I hope you -will give me your address that I may call -upon you.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, I am at the Arlington for a -day or two,” responded Decourcy, with his -polished politeness of tone and manner, in -which Margaret felt such a pride at the moment.</p> - -<p>“It is quite early,” Louis went on, “and my -brother and sister have deserted Miss Trevennon -for a dinner. Will you not remain and -spend the evening with her?”</p> - -<p>Alan Decourcy possessed to perfection the -manner which George Eliot describes as “that -controlled self-consciousness which is the expensive -substitute for simplicity,” and it was -apparently with the most perfect naturalness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span> -that he pleaded another engagement and took -leave, with compliments and regards to General -and Mrs. Gaston. The price this young -man had paid for this manner was some years -of studious observance of what he considered -the best models at home and abroad, and his -efforts had been eminently successful. It imposed -upon Margaret completely, and charming -though she saw her cousin to be, she would -have said that his manners were as unstudied -as a child’s.</p> - -<p>Louis Gaston, on his part, considered the -matter more understandingly. He recognized -in this cousin of Miss Trevennon a polished -man of the world. The type was familiar -enough to him, but he knew that this was an -exquisite specimen of it, and the very fineness -of Mr. Decourcy’s breeding made his own recent -bearing seem more monstrously at fault. -He felt very anxious to set himself right with -Miss Trevennon at once, but almost before he -had time to consider the means of doing this -she had said good-night and gone up stairs.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span>He stood where she had left him, abstracted -and ill at ease. What a power this girl had -of making him feel uncomfortable; for it was -not Decourcy’s censure and disapprobation -that he deprecated half so much as Margaret’s. -Again there came into his breast that new, -strange feeling of self-distrust. He shook it -off with a sigh, tired of self-communing and -reflection, and anxious to act. He felt his -present position unendurable.</p> - -<p>Accordingly, he rang for Thomas and sent -him to ask Miss Trevennon if he could speak -to her for a few minutes. Thomas carried -the message, and presently returned to say -that Miss Trevennon would come down.</p> - -<p>When she entered the room, soon after, she -looked so stately, and met his eyes with such -a cold glance, that a less determined man -might have faltered. He was very much in -earnest, however, and so he said at once:</p> - -<p>“I ventured to trouble you to return, Miss -Trevennon, in order that I might apologize to -you for what I acknowledge to have been an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span> -act of rudeness. I am exceedingly sorry for -it, and I ask your pardon.”</p> - -<p>“You have it, of course, Mr. Gaston. An -offence acknowledged and regretted is necessarily -forgiven. I want you to tell me explicitly, -however, what act you refer to.”</p> - -<p>“I feel myself to have acted unwarrantably, -indeed rudely, in my manner of receiving your -cousin. I was angry at the time, and I forgot -myself. I have done what little I could to -atone for it to Mr. Decourcy, but I felt that I -owed you an apology, because in acting thus -toward a guest of yours I was guilty of a -rudeness to you.”</p> - -<p>Margaret was silent; but how she burned -to speak!</p> - -<p>“Am I forgiven?” said Gaston, after a little -pause, for the first time smiling a little, and -speaking in the clear, sweet tones that she had -lately thought the pleasantest in the world. -If she thought so still, she denied it to her -own heart.</p> - -<p>“I need hardly say, Mr. Gaston,” she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span> -answered, forcing back a sigh, “that as far as -I am concerned, you have quite atoned for -your treatment of my cousin.”</p> - -<p>“Then am I reinstated in your favor, great -Queen Margaret, and will you give me your -royal hand upon it?”</p> - -<p>He extended his hand, but Margaret quickly -clasped hers with its fellow, and dropped -them in front of her, while she slowly shook -her head. There was none of the bright -<i>naïveté</i> so natural to her, in this action; she -looked thoughtful and very grave.</p> - -<p>The young man felt his pulses quicken; he -resolved that she should make friends with -him, cost what it might. It had become of the -very first importance to him that he should be -reinstated in that place in her regard which -he knew that he had once held, and which -he now felt to be so priceless a treasure.</p> - -<p>“I am still unforgiven, I see,” he said; “but -you will at least tell me what is my offence -that I may seek to expiate it.”</p> - -<p>Margaret raised her candid eyes to his and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span> -looked at him a moment with a strange expression; -doubt, disappointment and glimmering -hope were mingled in it.</p> - -<p>“Shall I be frank with you?” she said, -speaking from a sudden impulse. “I should -like to, if I dared.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be distressed if you are not,” he -said, almost eagerly. “I beg you to say freely -what you have in your mind.”</p> - -<p>She did not speak at once, but sank into a -chair, with a long-drawn respiration that might -mean either sadness or relief. When Gaston -had brought another chair and placed it close -beside her and seated himself, she looked up -and met his gaze. In the eyes of both there -was the eagerness of youth—in the girl’s a -hesitating wistfulness, in the man’s a subdued -fire, somewhat strange to them. He was conscious -of being deeply stirred, and if he had -spoken first his words would probably have -betrayed this, but it was Margaret who broke -the silence, in tones that were calm and steady, -and a little sad.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span>“Mr. Gaston,” she said, turning her eyes -away from his face and looking into the fire, -“it wouldn’t be worth while, I think, for me to -pretend to feel the same toward you, after -what has happened; it would be only pretence. -Twenty-four hours ago I should have said you -were the young man of all my acquaintance -whom I felt to be the truest gentleman. I would -not say this to your face now, except that it -is quite passed.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad that you have said it—most glad -that it was ever so,” he said, with a hurried -ardor; “but it is a great height to fall from. -And have I indeed fallen?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied Margaret, not smiling at all, -but speaking very gravely. “You began to -fall the moment Major King came into this -room last night, and you have been falling -ever since, as I have gone over it all in my -mind. You reached the bottom when my cousin -came in this evening, and the shock was so -great that it caused a slight rebound; but I -don’t suppose that signifies much.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span>If the girl’s eyes had not been fixed upon -the fire she would probably have checked her -speech at the sight of the expression which -settled upon her companion’s face the moment -Major King’s name was mentioned. But she -did not see it, and was therefore unprepared -for the hard, cold tone in which his next words -were uttered.</p> - -<p>“I have felt and acknowledged my fault, -where your cousin was concerned,” he said. -“Mr. Decourcy is a gentleman, and nothing -but the fact of my being preoccupied with the -resentment I felt at certain words of yours at -the time, would have caused me to act toward -him as I did. This explains, but does not justify -my conduct, which I have acknowledged -to be unjustifiable. But in the other case, Miss -Trevennon, I must maintain that I acted -rightly.”</p> - -<p>“If that is your feeling about it,” Margaret -said, “I think this conversation had better -end here.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Miss Trevennon?” he asked, a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span> -little defiantly. “I see no reason why it -should.”</p> - -<p>“Because its object, as I suppose, has been -to bring about an understanding between us; -and since you have defined your sentiments, it -is clear to me that we could no more come to -understand each other than if you spoke Sanscrit -and I spoke French.”</p> - -<p>“I believe you are mistaken,” he said. “I -have a feeling that our positions are not so -widely different as they may appear to be. -Don’t refuse to listen to me, Miss Trevennon; -that would be unjust, and you are not an unjust -woman.”</p> - -<p>It was a wonderful proof of the hold she -had laid upon him that he took such trouble -to exonerate himself in her eyes, and he felt it -so himself, but he no longer denied the fact -that Miss Trevennon’s good opinion was a matter -of vast importance to him. The little impulses -of anger which her severe words now -and then called forth, were always short lived. -One glance at the lovely face and figure near<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span> -him was generally enough to banish them, -and now, as he treated himself to a long look -at the fair countenance, with its sweet downcast -eyes and slightly saddened mouth, the impossibility -of quarrelling with this exquisite -creature presented itself so strongly, that he -grew suddenly so friendly and at ease, that he -was able to assume a tone that was pleasant, -and almost gay, as he said:</p> - -<p>“Now, Miss Trevennon, honor bright! You -know perfectly well that you don’t like that -man one bit better than I do.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t like him at all. I yield that point -at once, but I fail to see how that affects the -matter. Children and savages regulate their -manners according to their tastes and fancies, -but I had always supposed that well-bred men -and women had a habit of good-breeding that -outside objects could not affect.”</p> - -<p>“A gentleman’s house is his castle, Miss -Trevennon,” said Gaston, with a return to his -former tone and manner; “and it is one of the -plainest and most sacred of his duties to see<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span> -that the ladies of his household are protected -from all improper contact. In my brother’s -absence I stood in the position of the gentleman -of the house, and I did right to adopt a -line of conduct which would save you from a -like intrusion in future. I owed it to you to -do so.”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon,” said Margaret, waving -her hand with a pretty little motion of scornful -rejection. “You allowed your consideration -for me to constrain you too far. I have -led a free, unrestricted life, and am accustomed -to contact with those who come and go. No -man has a finer feeling as to what is fitting for -the ladies of his family than my father, but -though I should live to reach old age, I shall -never see him pay so great a price for my immunity -from doubtful association as an act of -rudeness to any one whomsoever.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you what it is, Miss Trevennon,” -said Gaston, speaking rather warmly, “if you -lived in Washington, you would see things -differently. There’s no end to the pushing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span> -impertinence of the people who hang about a -city—this one especially, and a gentleman does -not like to have his friends in danger of meeting -these obnoxious creatures at his house. It -looks very queer, and people think so, too.”</p> - -<p>“Is a gentleman’s position, then, so easily -impeached? Now I should have thought that, -with your name and prestige, you might -weather a good many queer appearances. An -annoyance of this sort would not be likely to -happen often. That it is an annoyance, I do not -deny; but I think there must be a better way -of preventing such things than the one you -adopted. And oh, Mr. Gaston, while we are -on this subject, I wonder how you can ignore -one point, the agony that you caused me!”</p> - -<p>“That <i>I</i> caused you, Miss Trevennon? It -is hard, indeed, to lay at my door the discomfiture -you endured last evening.”</p> - -<p>“I think it was the most wretched evening -I ever passed,” said Margaret, “and it was -only your conduct that made it so.”</p> - -<p>“My conduct? Now you <i>are</i> unjust!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span>“Not at all,” said Margaret. “I am not so -wholly uninured to the necessity of sometimes -hearing annoyances, as to be made miserable -by having to talk for several hours with a -man I do not like. You will never believe it, -of course, but I do not think Major King is a -man who lacks good feeling, the essence and -soul of politeness. He belongs to a type that -I know very well. He is an ignorant man and -a very self-opinionated one, and he has been -so long in need of association with his superiors -that he has begun to think that he has -none. He does not know the world, and is -therefore unaware of the fact, that a man who -holds the position of a gentleman may be -guilty of many lapses without losing that -position. I spoke just now of its being rather -a light tenure, but, in some ways, it is very -strong, it seems. I have said I do not like -Major King, but I believe it is a mistake to -call him vulgar. He is foolish and conceited, -because he has had very slender opportunities -to learn better. But oh, Mr. Gaston, how<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span> -different with you! It is impossible not to -draw the contrast. You know the world. -You have studied and travelled. You are -clever, cultivated and accomplished, and to -what end? It has all resulted in an act which -yesterday I would have wagered my right hand -you were incapable of.”</p> - -<p>She spoke with real feeling in her voice, and -Gaston caught this inflection, and the sound -of it quickened his blood. His ideas and -emotions were strangely confused. He felt -that he ought to be angry and resentful, but -he was conscious only of being contrite.</p> - -<p>“I have said too much. I have spoken far -too freely,” said Margaret, breaking in upon his -reflections. “I meant to be quite silent, but -when you urged me to speak I forgot myself. -I am sorry.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be,” the young man answered gently; -“the fact that these are your opinions entitles -them at least to my respect. But there is one -thing I must mention before we drop this subject. -I cannot be satisfied to allow you to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span> -retain the idea that I was accountable for the -discomfiture you endured yesterday evening. -You must know that I would joyfully shield -you from all vexations and annoyances.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Margaret gently, shaking her -head; “it was you, and not Major King, who -made those hours so wretched to me. You -made no effort to conceal the fact that you -were outraged and indignant, and what could -be clearer than that I had been the means of -bringing this deeply resented annoyance upon -you? If you had thought of me, you must -have seen that.”</p> - -<p>“I thought of you continually. It was -chiefly upon your account that I resented the -intrusion. It matters little to a man whom he -happens to rub against, but it pains me deeply -that a lady—that <i>you</i> should not be screened -from such intercourse.”</p> - -<p>In spite of herself, Margaret was touched -by this. A hundred times, since she had -known him, she had seen Louis Gaston give -evidence of an exquisite feeling of deference to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span> -women, and she could readily believe that he -had been influenced on this occasion partly -by consideration for herself; and while she -resented the means used she did justice to the -motive.</p> - -<p>“It is much better that we have talked of -this,” she said presently. “I do thank you -for having that feeling about me. You could -not know it was not needed. I will try to -forget it all.”</p> - -<p>“But you will not succeed,” he said; “your -tone convinces me of that. I wish we understood -each other better, Miss Trevennon, and -I do not yet give up the hope that in time -we may.”</p> - -<p>He drew out his watch and looked at it, saying -in tones that showed him to be in a serious -mood:</p> - -<p>“I have an appointment to see a man on -business, and I must go and keep it. I shall -probably be late coming in, and shall hardly -see you again, so I’ll say good-night.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke, he turned and went into the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span> -hall, and a moment later Margaret heard the -front door close behind him.</p> - -<p>As she slowly mounted the stairs to her -room, she remembered that he had not asked -her again to shake hands with him, in token -of a re-establishment of the old relationship -between them, and, on the whole, she did not -regret it. It was as well that he should know -that he was not restored to his former place -in her regard. Her faith in him had been -terribly shaken, and it seemed impossible he -could ever be to her again the man she had -once thought him.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">WHEN Mrs. Gaston and Miss Trevennon -were driving along the avenue next morning, -the former said abruptly, “Why didn’t -you tell me of your cousin’s visit?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I didn’t see you when you came in, -you know,” answered Margaret evasively. -“Who told you?”</p> - -<p>“Louis: and I gathered from certain indications -that there had been something unpleasant -in this meeting. I didn’t ask him to -explain it to me, and I don’t ask you. I hate -explanations. I have always foreseen that a -certain amount of clashing was inevitable between -you and Louis. You are both very well -in your ways, but your ways are very different -and not very reconcilable. I am very sorry -anything of the sort happened; but I don’t let -it prey upon my mind, and I hope you will not -either.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span>“Oh no,” said Margaret; “it was nothing -very important. Mr. Gaston was rude to Alan -when he first came in, but he atoned for it as -far as he could afterward.”</p> - -<p>At this moment a handsome drag containing -two gentlemen and a liveried servant was -seen approaching, and, as it came up to them, -one of the gentlemen recognized Margaret with -a bow and a smile.</p> - -<p>“There’s Alan now!” said Margaret. “I -wonder who the gentleman is, who is driving.”</p> - -<p>“It’s young Lord Waring,” said Mrs. Gaston, -with animation. “He is attached to the -British Legation—the minister’s nephew, I believe. -And so that was Alan Decourcy! What -a charming young man! I wonder how Louis -could be rude to a man like that.”</p> - -<p>It was Margaret’s usual habit to pass over -such remarks as this from Cousin Eugenia, as -she was convinced of the fruitlessness of argument -in her case; but this speech touched her -on such a sore point that she could not help -saying, in rather keen tones:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span>“A man who could be rude to any one -whomsoever, must be somewhat difficult to -count upon, I should think. He must be often -puzzled to decide whom to treat civilly and -whom to snub.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, there you go, with your high-flown -Southern notions,” retorted Mrs. Gaston, with -imperturbable good-humor. “You’re your father’s -own child! But we must have this elegant -young man to dinner. Do you happen to -know if he is engaged for this evening?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Margaret, “I didn’t hear him -say.”</p> - -<p>“He will probably call during the day.”</p> - -<p>“No, he will not,” said Margaret, decidedly. -“He told me he should not see me again before -going to Baltimore. But he is to make -arrangements for me to go over for a little visit -soon, and I shall see him then.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense! He’s to come and see you at -my house, and he’s to make friends with us all. -Louis has been in the wrong, and he shall be -made to see it. Leave that to me. I shall write<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span> -young Decourcy a note as soon as I get home; -and you shall write too, and endorse my invitation.”</p> - -<p>Margaret felt very anxious that her cousin -should come and dine at the Gastons’, but she -seriously doubted his willingness to do so. -Despite his perfect courtesy, there had been -something in his manner toward Louis Gaston -that made it clear that he did not desire to improve -the latter’s acquaintance, and she wanted -him to see that in the interview he had had -with Gaston he had seen Louis at his worst, and -to realize that he had a better side. And, on -the other hand, she wanted the Gastons to see -Alan Decourcy as a specimen of a Southern -gentleman, who not only possessed, by inheritance, -all the instincts and traditions that she -clung to and respected, but who, in addition -to these, had had sufficient contact with the -world to get rid of that colossal belief in himself -and his own methods and manners, as the -only commendable ones, which she felt to be -one of the chief failings of her countrymen.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span> -She had been too long accustomed to the arrogant -assumption that a Southern man had better -take the wrong way in any issue than learn -the right way from a Yankee, not to rejoice in -the prospect of presenting to her friends a -young Southerner who was really enlightened, -and who, if he loved his own land best, did so -because he had compared it with others, and -not because he was ignorant of everything beyond -it.</p> - -<p>But when Mrs. Gaston had despatched her -note, inviting Mr. Decourcy to dine with them -that evening at six, and there came a response -regretting that a previous engagement for -dinner prevented his accepting her invitation, -Mrs. Gaston was quite provoked about it, -and when they were at dinner she confided -her disappointment to her husband and his -brother.</p> - -<p>“I called on him at the Arlington, this -morning,” said Louis, “but he was out.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, we met him,” said Mrs. Gaston. “He -was driving with Lord Waring.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span>Margaret felt a little throb of gratification, -as her cousin made this announcement, of -which she was deeply ashamed the next instant. -“I am getting the most horrid ideas into my -head,” she said to herself; “what a little snob -I should have felt myself two months ago, to -be filled with vulgar elation at the thought of -Alan Decourcy being seen driving with a lord! -It’s perfectly humiliating!” But all the same, -the satisfaction remained.</p> - -<p>“I wonder where he is going to dine,” Mrs. -Gaston went on, presently. “He will call, of -course, in acknowledgment of my invitation, -and when he does, Margaret, you must ask -him.”</p> - -<p>The next morning he did call, and Mrs. Gaston -and Margaret were at home to receive him. -Margaret asked him, in the course of their -talk, where he had dined the day before, and -convicted herself a second time of snobbishness -by the pleasure she felt in hearing him -answer:</p> - -<p>“At the British Legation. The minister<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span> -happens to be an old acquaintance, and Waring -and I were great chums at one time. By-the-way, -he was, for some reason, rather struck -with you, Daisy. He was with me when I -met you driving yesterday, you remember. I -told him you were a pet cousin of mine, and it -may have been on that account that he asked -me to bring him to call upon you.”</p> - -<p>“I hope you will do so,” Mrs. Gaston said. -“We should be glad to see him.”</p> - -<p>There was no under-bred eagerness in her -tones as she said it, but Margaret suspected -that there might be a little in her heart, and -she was not sorry when Decourcy answered, -merely:</p> - -<p>“Thank you; you’re very kind,” and then -changed the subject by saying:</p> - -<p>“I picked up a little present for you, when -I was in Naples, Margaret. I unpacked it this -morning and will send it to you.”</p> - -<p>A few minutes after this he took leave, -having made on both ladies an extremely good -impression, which Mrs. Gaston owned to, in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span> -voluble phrases, and which Margaret concealed -under a very calm exterior.</p> - -<p>A day or two later Alan called again, and -brought with him Lord Waring, who proved -to be a little dull. He was shy and constrained -in manner and hampered by a certain -gawkiness which Decourcy’s exquisite ease of -breeding made the more apparent. In spite of -all this, however, there was something rather -distinguished in the young foreigner, a sincerity -and simplicity that stamped him as a man of -worth, and a commanding self-security that was -as far removed from self-sufficiency as possible.</p> - -<p>It was arranged between Miss Trevennon -and her cousin that they were to go to Baltimore -in a few days, and it was not until he -rose to take leave that he put into her hands -a box, which he told her contained the little -present he had spoken of.</p> - -<p>As soon as the two gentlemen had gone, -Margaret tore open the parcel with the eagerness -of a girl to whom presents are somewhat -rare, and discovered, in a beautiful little<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span> -mosaic box, an antique silver chatelaine of the -most rare and exquisite workmanship. There -was a small watch, and other richly chased -pendents, and the whole thing was pretty -enough to delight any girl alive, even in the -absence of a just appreciation of its value. -Cousin Eugenia, however, being thoroughly -initiated in all such matters, was handling and -examining it with a depth of appreciation that -almost brought tears to her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Why, Margaret, it is a superb present,” she -exclaimed; “a veritable antique, such as not -one woman in a thousand is lucky enough to -possess. You <i>must</i> let me show it to Mrs. -Norman; she is continually flaunting hers in -peoples’ faces, and it doesn’t compare with this. -I should say it is quite modern beside this. -Just look at these clasps. The watch is not -so antique, but the chains and clasps are wonderful.”</p> - -<p>Margaret, as she looked on and listened, could -scarcely conceal the amusement she felt. She -had often before this had reason to observe<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span> -the almost solemn emotion with which Cousin -Eugenia was wont to regard certain articles of -great luxuriousness or magnificence. She had -seen her stirred to the soul by a plush <i>portière</i>, -and almost tearful at the mere recollection of -a French costume. Appreciation was one -thing, but this was another. It transcended -mere appreciation, and seemed, in some way, -to be tinctured with the heroic.</p> - -<p>“What an æsthete you would have made, -Cousin Eugenia, if only the proper influences -had been brought to bear!” said Margaret, -laughing. “I can fancy you speaking, in -awed and hushed accents, of a strange and -mysterious color, or a significant and subtle -bit of drapery. You consider yourself unemotional, -but you have depths which may be -stirred. It takes a silver chatelaine of a rare -order to compass it, however, or something as -imposing. I have to thank you for enlightening -me as to the value of Alan’s gift. If -I tell him you wept upon it, it may compensate -in some measure for my Philistinism.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span>“He must have taken great care in the selection -of this present for you,” Mrs. Gaston -said. “He admires you very much, Margaret. -I begin to wonder what it means.”</p> - -<p>Margaret laughed gayly.</p> - -<p>“It means nothing whatever,” she said; “for -goodness’ sake, don’t get up any absurd notion -about Alan Decourcy and me. It’s a brand-new -idea.”</p> - -<p>“To you it may be—not to him. He has a -way of watching you that means something. -A careful, scrutinizing interest in all you do is -observable, and often it changes into those -quiet signs of approbation, which mean so -much in a man like that. I shall be prepared -for a prompt surrender, so don’t be afraid of -startling me if you have anything to communicate -from Baltimore. He told me the other -day, that he had reached an eminently marriageable -age, and was dreadfully afraid of passing -beyond it. He also said that he much preferred -to marry one of his own countrywomen; -and I believe that is what brings him home.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span>Margaret gave an amused attention to her -cousin’s speculations, after which they fell to -talking of the proposed visit to Baltimore, -which Cousin Eugenia acquiesced in only on -condition that it should be of but one week’s -duration, and that Margaret should return to -Washington for Christmas. This she agreed -to do, resolving, if she found it desirable, to -arrange for another visit before returning to -the South.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">MARGARET had been, from the first, eager -to hear Decourcy’s criticism of the Gastons, -and when she found herself seated by her -cousin’s side, in the train on the way to Baltimore, -with the prospect of an hour’s <i>tête-à-tête</i> -before her, she felt sure he would volunteer -his impressions. She only hoped that he would -remember that, in spite of all, she really liked -them, and that he would refrain from speaking -too resentfully on the subject. She was full of -unuttered criticism herself, but a feeling of -loyalty to the friends who had shown her so -much kindness deterred her from introducing -the topic. It soon appeared, however, that -Mr. Decourcy had no intention of speaking of -it at all. Of course they talked about the -Gastons, but it was only in incidental allusions, -and, after all, it was Margaret who invited his -criticism by saying directly:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span>“What do you think of them, Alan?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, pretty well,” he answered lightly. -“The General is a little heavy, but his wife -has vivacity enough to counterbalance him, and -I should say the brother is a fine fellow.”</p> - -<p>Margaret’s eyes opened wide with astonishment. -Forgetting all her good resolutions, -now that she and her cousin had so decidedly -shifted positions, she said excitedly:</p> - -<p>“Why, Alan, I supposed you thought him -simply intolerable.”</p> - -<p>Her cousin, in his turn, looked surprised.</p> - -<p>“You know him better than I,” he said, -“and it may be that that is his real character; -but I met him at the club the other night and -was rather struck with him. It may be all surface, -however. He is a good-looking fellow—and -has very good manners.”</p> - -<p>“Good manners! Oh, Alan! His conduct, -the first time you met him, was really terrible; -it filled me with shame for him.”</p> - -<p>“Oh yes; I remember that very well,” said -Decourcy, quietly; “but I rather fancied, from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span> -certain signs, that that was mostly due to his -being at odds with you, in some way. Yes,” -he went on, looking faintly amused at the reminiscence, -“he evidently intended to annihilate me, -but when he saw that he had better -not think of it, I must say he gave up with a -good grace, and since then he has done everything -in his power to manifest an intention to -be civil. In this condition of affairs, I find -him a very likeable, intelligent fellow.”</p> - -<p>“And you bear him no grudge for the manner -in which he treated you?”</p> - -<p>“My dear Daisy! what’s the use of bearing -grudges? Life is much too short. And besides, -a great many people are like that.”</p> - -<p>“What sort of people? Vulgar people and -ignorant people, I suppose!”</p> - -<p>“Well, not necessarily. I have often seen -such conduct from people whom I could not, -on the whole, call either ignorant or vulgar. -It seems to be the instinct with some men to -consider every stranger a blackguard, until he -has proved himself not to be one.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span>“It is abominable,” said Margaret; “perfectly -barbarous! Such people have no right -to claim to be civilized.”</p> - -<p>“In point of fact, it is only a very small class, -my dear, who can justly lay claim to that estate. -I understand your feeling. How it carries me -back! I used to feel much as you do, before I -went out into the world.”</p> - -<p>“I should think a knowledge of the world -would make one more fastidious instead of less -so,” said Margaret, sturdily.</p> - -<p>“I think you are wrong in that. One learns -to take things as they come, and loses the -notion of having all things exactly to one’s -taste.”</p> - -<p>“But surely such flagrant impoliteness as -Mr. Gaston’s would be condemned anywhere,” -said Margaret. “You should have seen his -treatment of Major King.”</p> - -<p>She then proceeded to give a spirited account -of that episode, to her cousin’s manifest -interest and amusement.</p> - -<p>“And how your hot Southern blood did<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span> -tingle!” he commented, as she ended her recital. -“You felt as if a crime had been committed -in your sight, which it was your sacred -duty to avenge—did you not? I had such -feelings once myself, and perhaps, in both our -cases, they may be traced to the same cause. -Constant observation of such a model as your -father presents would put most of the world -at a disadvantage. There is a fineness of grain -in him that one meets with but rarely anywhere. -With him the feeling is that every -man must be regarded and treated as a gentleman, -until he has proved himself not to be -one. It is a better way. But I think, after -all, Margaret, that absolute good-breeding is a -thing we must look for in individuals, and not -in classes. It certainly does not exist in any -class with which I have been thrown, and I -cannot quite see how it could, as long as our -social system of standards and rewards remains -what it is. Do you remember a clever squib -in <i>Punch, àpropos</i> of all this?”</p> - -<p>Margaret shook her head.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span>“I very rarely see <i>Punch</i>,” she said.</p> - -<p>“It represents a conversation on the deck of -an ocean steamer, between a beautiful American -girl, returning from Europe, and several -Englishmen, who are grouped about her. One -of these is saying: ‘Now, Miss ——, do tell us. -You’ve travelled a great deal, and seen the -world, where have you met with the most elegant, -refined, and high-bred men and women?’ -‘Among your British aristocracy,’ replies the -young lady, frankly. Her response is greeted -with a flutter of delight by the group, and their -spokesman puts another question: ‘Now tell -us, on the other hand,’ he says, ‘where you have -met with the greatest ill-breeding and vulgarity.’ -The answer comes as promptly as -before: ‘Among your British aristocracy.’ -That,” proceeded Decourcy, after waiting for -Margaret’s ready tribute of appreciation, “according -to my own small experience, states the -case exactly, and, with certain limitations, the -same thing is true of the aristocracy of every -country. A low-born ignoramus could never<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span> -be the finished snob that a man of some enlightenment -may be; he wouldn’t know how. -But confess, Margaret,—hot little rebel as -you are!—have you never encountered the -elements of snobbishness among your own -people?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; but I always supposed it came from -ignorance and was greatly due to the fact that, -since the war, our people have had so little opportunity -of seeing the world, and have become -insulated and prejudiced in consequence.”</p> - -<p>“There is something in that; but it was always -so, I fancy, more or less. We are by nature -and habit a self-opinionated race, with -certain honorable exceptions, of course. But -this I will say—by way of a little private -swagger between ourselves—that I think -we are a courteous people, indeed the most -courteous I have known, with more inherent -good-feeling for others. That ought to comfort -you.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Margaret, rather wistfully; “but -there are so many other things. Our people<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span> -are so indolent, it seems to me—at least since -the war.”</p> - -<p>“You always make me laugh, Daisy, when -you introduce that little phrase, ‘since the -war.’ You seem to find in it a satisfactory -excuse for all the delinquencies of your beloved -people. But the South, my sweet cousin, -has never been a Utopia, any more than other -lands. Wheat and tares must grow together -everywhere.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad you call them my beloved people,” -said Margaret, after a little silence. “At -home they do not think me very patriotic.”</p> - -<p>“Whom do you mean by ‘they’?”</p> - -<p>“I was thinking of Charley Somers——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, by-the-way, I meant to ask about that -pretty young fellow,” said Decourcy. “I used -to make him very angry by telling him he ought -to induce Bassett to take a newspaper, and suggesting -that the name of the town should be -changed to Cosmopolis. I am afraid Charley -never loved me. I shudder still at the remembrance -of the scowls he would cast upon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span> -me whenever I went near you. How is -he?”</p> - -<p>“Very well,” said Margaret; “not changed -at all.”</p> - -<p>“He hasn’t followed my advice about the -paper, then? How about his voice? It bid -fair to be superb. I hope it has developed -well.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think it has developed at all,” said -Margaret. “Certainly it has had no training -worthy the name. It is a shame to see him -throwing that magnificent gift away. I have -thought of it so much, in hearing Mr. Gaston -sing. He has no voice at all, compared to -Charley’s, but he has spent such patient labor -on its cultivation that his method is exquisite, -and his singing would charm any one. Isn’t it -a fine thing to think how he worked over it, -while all the time he was studying hard at his -profession too.”</p> - -<p>“So Gaston is lucky enough to have won -your approbation, in one quarter, at least, -though he does come under your ban in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span> -another,” said Decourcy. “You are exacting, -Margaret, and severe in your ideals: I foresee -that I shall be afraid of you. It would be interesting -to make the acquaintance of the lucky -man who is destined to command your entire -approval, and win your fair hand.”</p> - -<p>Margaret laughed brightly:</p> - -<p>“Cousin Eugenia says I shall never marry,” -she answered; “she says I expect as much as -if I were an heiress, and a beauty, and an intellectual -prodigy, all in one. But I tell her my -comfort is that the sort of man I should care for -invariably falls in love with his inferior.”</p> - -<p>At this point the train glided into the station, -and the conversation between the cousins came -to an end.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">UNDER the stimulating pressure of recent -experiences Margaret had taken up her -music again, with great ardor and determination. -Mr. Gaston had encouraged her to believe -that she might yet make a good performer, -and had managed to instil into her some of his -own spirit of thinking it worth while to achieve -the best attainable, even though great proficiency -might be out of reach. There was so -little time during the day when she could -count upon remaining in undisturbed possession -of the piano that, for some time before -leaving Washington, she had been in the habit -of rising earlier and practising for an hour before -breakfast, and she was resolved that her -visit to Baltimore should not interfere with -this routine. Indeed, she would have felt its -interruption to be a serious moral retrogression, -and so, with Mrs. Guion’s sanction, she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span> -kept up her morning labors, and when the -family met at breakfast every day, she had -already accomplished her allotted period of -practising. Alan used to laugh at her about it, -and tell her she was becoming Yankeeized. -He was apt to be late for breakfast himself, -and Mrs. Guion took a great deal of trouble in -having things kept hot for him, and would arrange -little delicacies for him, much as if he -had been an invalid lady, as Margaret more -than once remarked with a certain degree of -impatience. It quite irritated her to see how -his sister pampered and indulged him and how -carelessly, and as a matter of course, he accepted -it all.</p> - -<p>The Guions had only recently come to Baltimore -from the South. Their old home had -been very near to Margaret’s, and she had consequently -seen much more of Mrs. Guion, of -late years, than of Alan. The children, of -whom there were three, ranging from two to -seven years of age, were cherished acquaintances -of Margaret’s, and hailed her arrival<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span> -with a hearty enthusiasm, that she responded -to with much cordiality. Ethel, the eldest, -had been taught by her mother, long ago, to -call Miss Trevennon “Auntie Margaret,” and -Amy and Decourcy had, of course, adopted the -title. They were charming children, rather -delicate in health, and watched and guarded -with such care by their anxious mother, that -they had the air of frail exotics. Mr. Guion -had died when Decourcy was a baby, and it -was because Alan had decided to settle in -Baltimore for the practise of his profession, -the law, that Mrs. Guion had moved her -little family there. She was enthusiastically -attached to her only brother, and never wearied -of discoursing upon his perfections and displaying -the numberless useful and ornamental -presents that he lavished upon her children -and herself.</p> - -<p>“Wasn’t it good of Alan to insist upon our -coming to Baltimore, that he might make his -home with us?” said Mrs. Guion, talking to -her young cousin, the day after the latter’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span> -arrival. “So many young men would have -thought it a nuisance to be hampered by a -woman and three children; but he insisted on -our coming.”</p> - -<p>“I can hardly see how he could regard you -in the light of a nuisance,” said Margaret, -smiling; “your chief object in life seems to be -to humor his whims and caprices. He could -certainly not secure such comfort as you administer -to him, in any bachelor-quarters on -earth.”</p> - -<p>This view of the case had never occurred to -Mrs. Guion, and she rejected it almost indignantly, -and argued long to convince her cousin -that she was, in all respects, the favored one; -but without much success.</p> - -<p>It was by a mere accident that Margaret -discovered, a day or two after her arrival, -that Alan’s sleeping-apartment, situated just -above the front drawing-room, had been exchanged -for one on the other side of the hall. -In an instant it flashed upon her that her -morning performance on the piano had been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span> -the cause of it. To be quite certain, however, -she went to Mrs. Guion and asked her directly -if it was not so.</p> - -<p>“How did you find it out?” said Mrs. -Guion; “you were not to know anything about -it. The other room is quite as convenient for -Alan. He says he likes it just as well, and he -wouldn’t for the world have you know that -he moved on that account. But, you know, -he never could bear noise. Even the children -understand that they must be quiet when he -is here.”</p> - -<p>“Is he an invalid, in any way?” asked Margaret.</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear no! but he always had that -objection to noise, and I think he is more set -in his ways now than ever. I tell him he -ought to marry.”</p> - -<p>“If he values his personal ease so much, it -might be a mistake to imperil it by matrimony,” -said Margaret, with a touch of contempt -in her voice not discernible to her unsuspecting -cousin.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span>“Affluence and idleness have made him -luxurious,” said Margaret to herself, reflectively, -when Mrs. Guion had left her alone. “I -suppose those two things are apt to go together. -And yet Cousin Eugenia says Mr. Gaston has -always been well off, and certainly the veriest -pauper could not work harder! And -still——”</p> - -<p>The sentence ended in a little sigh. There -was no denying the fact that Louis Gaston’s -descent from the pedestal upon which she had -mentally placed him, had been a great blow.</p> - -<p>Miss Trevennon’s time passed very agreeably -in Baltimore. Mrs. Guion, as yet, had only -a small circle of friends, but most of these -called upon her cousin, and several invitations -resulted from these visits. As to Alan, -the number of invitations he received was -quite amusing. He had been twice to the -club, and had delivered only one or two of his -various letters, and made only one or two -visits, when the cards of invitation began to -pour in. He happened to have a few desirable<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span> -acquaintances in Baltimore, his appearance -was distinguished, and he was known to -be rich, and these three facts, taken together, -sufficiently account for the degree of popularity -of which he found himself possessed.</p> - -<p>One thing that rather surprised Margaret -was the readiness with which her cousin would -throw aside other engagements in order to -drive her out, or take her to the theatre, or -contribute, in any way, to her enjoyment. He -even stayed at home one whole rainy evening, -when Mrs. Guion was engaged up-stairs with -one of the children, who was unwell, in order, -as he distinctly avowed, to have a long talk -with her.</p> - -<p>When Miss Trevennon and Mr. Decourcy -found themselves alone in the drawing-room, -the latter threw himself, at full length, upon a -low lounge, drawn up before the fire, and, fixing -his eyes enjoyingly on Margaret, as she -sat opposite, he drew a long breath of restful -satisfaction, saying:</p> - -<p>“Now this is real enjoyment. You don’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span> -know it, perhaps, but it is just what I have -longed for. Amy has really done this room -charmingly, and has contrived to get precisely -the atmosphere I like in it. The confusion -of sweet and pungent odors from those -plants yonder is just faint enough to be agreeable; -and, far above all, my fair cousin, with -her silken draperies and beautiful pose, puts a -climax to my happiness. You have a talent -for attitude, my Marguerite—do you know it? -You always place yourself to advantage. I -don’t know whether it is nature or art, but it is -equally admirable, in either case.”</p> - -<p>Margaret, who sat in a deep chair with her -arms laid along its padded sides, and her hands -lightly clasping the rounded ends, her long -silk gown falling away to the left, while her -figure was slightly turned toward her cousin -at her right, fixed her eyes upon the points of -her little slippers, crossed before her, and remained -profoundly still.</p> - -<p>For a moment the young man looked at her -in silence, and then he said:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span>“Why are you so quiet, dear Daisy?”</p> - -<p>“I am unwilling to alter the pose that has -won your approbation,” she said demurely. -“Don’t you think if I retained it long enough -I might ‘be struck so,’ as the man in <i>Patience</i> -says?”</p> - -<p>“I should be inclined to discourage that -idea,” said Alan, “as I was about to ask you -to draw your seat a little nearer, and transfer -your hands from the chair’s arms to my head. -You know I always liked you to run your long -fingers through and through my hair. Have -you forgotten how you used to do it? I can -assure you I have not.”</p> - -<p>As Margaret made no answer, he went on:</p> - -<p>“You were quite a child when you used first -to do it—a tall little maid, even then, with -such imperious ways! But you were always -willing to do anything for your big boy cousin, -and he has never forgotten you. All the time -he was at college, and afterward, when he went -abroad and travelled about in many strange -and distant places, he carried with him always<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span> -the image of that little maid, and when, at last, -he turned homeward, one of his pleasantest -visions was that of meeting her again.”</p> - -<p>Margaret had changed her position and -turned more directly toward him; she was -looking straight into his eyes, with her direct -and candid gaze, which his own met rather -dreamily. She did not speak in answer to -these fond assurances of his, but as she listened -she smiled.</p> - -<p>“And are you glad to hear that I have always -had this <i>tendre</i> for my sweet cousin, which -I somehow can’t get over, even yet?”</p> - -<p>“Oh yes,” said Margaret, gently, “very -glad,” and she looked at him with a deep and -searching gaze, which he could not quite understand.</p> - -<p>“Come nearer, dear,” he said, “and take -your old place at my head, and try to twist -my short locks into curls, as you used to do. -You will discover a secret known only to myself -and the discreet fraternity of barbers. -Come and see!” and he extended a white<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span> -hand, somewhat languidly, to draw her toward -him.</p> - -<p>“I think not,” said Margaret, drawing herself -upright, into an attitude of buoyant self-possession. -“You and the barbers may keep -your secret, for the present. I won’t intrude.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, but I want you. Come!” he said -urgently, still holding out the delicate hand, -on which a diamond sparkled.</p> - -<p>But Margaret shook her head.</p> - -<p>“Consider,” she said, with a little smile; -“hadn’t I better stay where I am and pose for -you, ‘talking platitudes in stained-glass attitudes,’ -than put myself there, out of sight, encroaching -upon the barbers’ privileges in more -ways than one? As there is only one of me, I -think you had better let me stay where I am. -There ought to be five or six—one at your Sereneness’ -head, and another at your feet. Two -with jingling anklets and bangles, to dance in -that space over yonder, and two just back of -them, to discourse sweet music on their ’citherns -and citoles’!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span>Decourcy smiled at her banter, but he fancied -he discerned in her voice a faint ring of -earnestness, tinctured with scorn, that disconcerted -him.</p> - -<p>“What is the use of six,” he said, “when -I have the sweet ministrations of all, merged -into one?—the little maid of long ago! Her -comforting offices are an old experience, and, -without having seen her dance, I’m willing to -pit her against any pair of houris in the -Orient; and as to music, I prefer the piano to -citherns and citoles.”</p> - -<p>“Especially in the early morning hours,” -said Margaret, slyly, “when your Sereneness is -enjoying your nap.”</p> - -<p>“Who told you anything about that?” he -said, starting, and turning toward her abruptly.</p> - -<p>“I guessed the truth and asked Amy, and -she had to own it.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t hear you in the least, where I am -now. I hope you have not given up your -practising on my account. I am afraid you -have!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span>“On the contrary,” answered Margaret, “my -effort is to make more noise, and I constantly -use the loud pedal. If my instrument had -been as movable as your apartment, I should -have followed you across the hall.”</p> - -<p>“Why do you talk to me like this, Daisy?”</p> - -<p>“Because I think you ought to come down -in time for breakfast, and not give Amy the -trouble of having things prepared afresh for -you.”</p> - -<p>“Amy likes it,” he said, smiling.</p> - -<p>“It is very fortunate, if she does,” said -Margaret; “but I fancy she would do it all -the same, whether she liked it or not. Amy -never thinks of herself.”</p> - -<p>At this moment, Mrs. Guion entered, having -at last soothed her little patient to sleep. Her -first act was to bring a light screen and put it -before her brother’s face, to shield it from the -fire.</p> - -<p>“Amy, why will you?” said Margaret. “You -spoil Alan frightfully. He’s badly in need of -discipline.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span>“I wish you would take me in hand,” he -said, looking at her from behind the screen -with an eager expression, that disconcerted -her.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Guion’s entrance introduced new topics, -and the <i>tête-à-tête</i> between the cousins was not -renewed.</p> - -<p>The next morning being rainy, Margaret betook -herself, after breakfast, to the little up-stairs -apartment which was the children’s general -play-room, and as the three little creatures -gathered around her, she drew Amy to her side -and asked her to tell her what she thought of -Baltimore on serious consideration.</p> - -<p>“I don’t like it one bit, Auntie Mard’ret,” -said Amy. “I think it’s a nasty, hateful, -dirty place.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Amy!” said Margaret, reproachfully, -“I am shocked at your using such words. -Where did a sweet little girl like you ever hear -such bad words?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Auntie Mard’ret, I know a dreat deal -worse words than that,” said Amy, with her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span> -eyes opened very wide. “Why, if I was to tell -you the words I’m thinkin’ of, why you’d jump -up and wun out of the woom.”</p> - -<p>“Amy, I must insist upon your telling me,” -said Margaret, feeling in duty bound to restrain -her amusement, and administer the rebuke. -“What words do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Auntie Mard’ret,” said Amy, solemnly, -“they’s jes’ is bad is they kin be—<i>awful</i> -words! I couldn’t never tell you.”</p> - -<p>Margaret insisted that she must be told, -and after much reluctance on Amy’s part, and -a demanded banishment of Ethel and Dee to -the other end of the room, she put her arms -around her cousin’s neck, and whispered in -awe-struck, mysterious tones:</p> - -<p>“I was thinkin’ of <i>devil</i> and <i>beast</i>.”</p> - -<p>Margaret caught the little creature in her -arms and kissed her repeatedly, in the midst -of such a merry outburst of laughter as made -reproof impossible.</p> - -<p>Amy, who seemed greatly relieved to have -rid her conscience of this burden, without any<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span> -penance in consequence, ran off to play with -the other children, and Margaret had just cut -the leaves of a new magazine she had brought -up with her and begun to look over the illustrations, -when she became aware of a commotion -among the children at the other end of -the room and a confusion of excited voices. -Presently little Decourcy came running toward -her in much perturbation, and said, with -a rising sob:</p> - -<p>“Auntie Mard’rit, is I a bullabulloo? Amy -says I’se a bullabulloo. Now, is I?”</p> - -<p>“No, Dee,” said Margaret, soothingly, “you -are no such thing. Tell Amy I say you are -not.”</p> - -<p>Dee ran back to the closet, on the floor of -which Amy was seated dressing her doll, and -Margaret heard him say, triumphantly:</p> - -<p>“Auntie Mard’rit says I’se not no bullabulloo.”</p> - -<p>Amy, taking a pin out of her mouth to fasten -the insufficient scrap of ribbon which she had -been straining around her daughter’s clumsy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span> -waist, looked up into his face with great, -serious eyes, and said mysteriously:</p> - -<p>“Yes, Dee, you <i>are</i> a bullabulloo. Auntie -Mard’rit don’t know it, and you don’t know it; -<i>but you are</i>.”</p> - -<p>This idea was so hopelessly dreadful that -poor little Dee could control himself no -longer. He dropped his apronful of blocks -upon the floor, and burst into a howl of -despair.</p> - -<p>Margaret flew to the rescue, and, lifting him -in her arms, carried him off to the window, -muttering soothing denials of his remotest -connection with bullabulloos. When he was -in some slight measure comforted, Margaret -called Amy to her and rebuked her sternly -for teasing her little brother. What was her -amazement to see Amy, as soon as she had -finished, look up at her with the same serious -gaze, and say, gravely:</p> - -<p>“Auntie Mard’rit, he <i>is</i> a bullabulloo. You -don’t know it, and Dee don’t know it; but <i>he -is</i>.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span>At this poor Dee began to howl again, refusing -to be comforted, until it occurred to Margaret -to suggest that if he was a bullabulloo -Amy must be one, too, as she was his sister. -This idea, once mastered, proved consoling, -and Dee stopped crying. Margaret, to try to -banish the remembrance of his trouble, turned -him around to the window and called his attention -to the children next door, who were -running about the back yard in the rain and -apparently enjoying it immensely. Ethel and -Amy had joined them at the window, the latter -standing on tip-toe to look.</p> - -<p>“That’s Jack and Cora,” she said, still -grasping her doll with one arm, while she held -on to the window-ledge with the other. “Oh, -Auntie Mard’rit, they’re such awful bad children. -They don’t mind their mamma nor -nuthin’. You jes’ ought to see how bad they -are. I jes’ expeck they’ll all grow up to be -Yankees.”</p> - -<p>Margaret burst into a peal of laughter.</p> - -<p>“What makes you think they’ll grow up to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span> -be Yankees, Amy?” she said. “Did anybody -ever tell you so?”</p> - -<p>“No, Auntie Mard’rit, but they’re so awful -bad; and if they’re that bad when they’re -little, I bet they <i>will</i> grow up to be Yankees.”</p> - -<p>At this point Mrs. Guion entered, and Margaret -related the story to her with great zest.</p> - -<p>“How <i>do</i> you suppose they got hold of such -an idea?” she said.</p> - -<p>“I can’t imagine,” said Mrs. Guion, “I’m -sure they never got it from me. Alan will insist -that they did, as he considers me a most -bigoted rebel. But certainly I have never -taught any such sentiment as that to the children. -They must simply have imbibed it with -the air they have breathed.”</p> - -<p>“It’s an excellent story,” said Margaret, -laughing over it still; “I shall have no rest -until I have told it to Mr. Gaston.”</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">EVER since Mrs. Gaston had called attention -to the fact that Alan Decourcy had -a habit of watching her, Margaret had been -conscious that it was really the case. He always -listened attentively when she spoke, applauding -by eloquent looks and smiles when -her sentiments pleased him, and looking -annoyed and disappointed when they did not. -She could not help seeing that he was studying -her with a deliberateness she felt somewhat -inclined to resent.</p> - -<p>It was hard to cherish any feeling of resentment -against him, however, during that pleasant -week in Baltimore, for he was kindness -itself, contributing in every possible way to -her comfort and enjoyment. Every night there -was something pleasant going on, and Alan -was always at hand, to act as escort, if no one -else held the place. Margaret was delighted<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span> -with Baltimore, and when she expressed herself -to this effect, Mr. Decourcy showed such -manifest approval of the sentiment that she -half regretted it the next minute. She was -beginning to feel a little disconcerted by certain -signs she saw in Alan.</p> - -<p>This young lady got so much pleasure and -entertainment out of everything, that it often -surprised her to catch glimpses of a carefully -concealed <i>ennui</i> in the expression of her -cousin’s guarded countenance.</p> - -<p>“I should not like to be as thoroughly -initiated as you are, Alan,” she said to him one -day. “You’ve seen and done pretty much -everything, I suppose, and nothing has any -particular zest for you now.”</p> - -<p>“You audacious young fledgeling!” exclaimed -her cousin. “How dare you make me -out such a <i>blasé</i> old fellow? How old am I, do -you suppose?”</p> - -<p>“I really don’t quite know.”</p> - -<p>“I am just barely thirty-three—not entirely -superannuated yet!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span>“About three years older than Mr. Gaston!” -said Margaret, reflectively.</p> - -<p>“I can’t understand the inflection of your -voice,” said Alan, rather eagerly; “do I seem -that much older than he?”</p> - -<p>“I hardly know,” answered Margaret, still -in the same thoughtful tone. “Mr. Gaston is -such a busy man that he bears the impress of -cares and responsibilities, and that makes him -seem older; but in his feelings he seems -worlds younger than you.”</p> - -<p>“And haven’t I cares and responsibilities too, -I’d like to know! Wait till I’m fairly launched -in my profession, and see how I will peg away -at my briefs and documents.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Alan!” said Margaret, smiling indulgently, -in a way that irritated him; “it is impossible -to imagine you really at work. Have -you ever practised at all?”</p> - -<p>“Not yet. Circumstances have prevented, -and I remained abroad much longer than I -had any idea of doing; but one thing after another -detained me. After Christmas, however,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span> -I am going to open an office and go to work in -earnest.”</p> - -<p>He spoke with confidence, but his tone did -not impose upon his cousin, who in her heart -had but small belief in his work. The fact -was becoming more and more evident to her, -that the nomadic life this elegant young gentleman -had led had held him back from strong -purposes, however much it had advanced him -in social accomplishments and graces.</p> - -<p>“If a man has done nothing, from choice, up -to thirty,” she said to herself, reflectively, -“the chances are that, if the power of choice -remains, he will continue to do nothing.”</p> - -<p>“I am so glad you are pleased with Baltimore, -Margaret,” said her cousin, interrupting -her reverie. “How do you think you should -like it as a residence?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I should like my home, wherever it -chanced to be,” said Margaret. “It is people, -and not places, that make one’s happiness, I -think. I am sure I could be happy wherever -my dear father and mother were.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span>“But you cannot have them always. By-and-by -some one must take their place.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Margaret, “I suppose so, but I -try not to think of that.”</p> - -<p>“Do you never think of marriage, Margaret? -I suppose all young ladies must.”</p> - -<p>“Not often, as applied to myself,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think matrimony desirable?”</p> - -<p>“I really don’t know,” said Margaret, a little -uneasily. “Not as we usually see it, certainly. -I suppose under the very best conditions marriage -is the happiest life—but I know nothing -about it.”</p> - -<p>“I am quite sure it is the happiest life,” -said Alan, “for both men and women, and it is -the greatest possible mistake to put it off too -long. Don’t be too fastidious as to conditions, -Margaret, and too high-flown in your notions. -Mutual liking and respect, and congeniality of -tastes are a good enough foundation—the rest -will follow. A cheerful disposition is an immense -consideration, and that you have. You -will always make the best of whatever comes.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span> -I don’t think I ever saw a woman better fitted -for matrimony.”</p> - -<p>He spoke so earnestly and looked at her -with such intentness, that Margaret felt herself -somewhat ill at ease, and was relieved -when the door burst open and Decourcy came -running in.</p> - -<p>“Auntie Mard’rit, Ethel says you’re not my -really auntie,” he said, wofully; “you is, now—ain’t -you, Auntie Mard’rit?”</p> - -<p>“I love you just the same as if I were, Dee,” -said Margaret, lifting him to her knee. “I -couldn’t be your real auntie, you know, because -I’m not your mother’s or your father’s -sister. Can you understand that?”</p> - -<p>“But Mrs. Gregg is Jack and Cora’s auntie,” -said Amy, who had come to take part in the -discussion, “and she’s not their mamma’s -sister or their papa’s either; she only married -their uncle.”</p> - -<p>“And if Margaret married your uncle, she -would be your really auntie, too,” said Alan, -quietly. “She could settle the whole matter,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span> -if she would, and don’t you think she might? -I do.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! Auntie Mard’rit, won’t you please -marry uncle?” cried Amy, imploringly, while -Dee, partially seizing the idea, repeated -faintly:</p> - -<p>“Auntie Mard’rit, peese marry uncle.”</p> - -<p>“Run away, children,” said Margaret, provoked -to feel herself blushing. “Alan, how -can you put such nonsense into their heads?”</p> - -<p>“I am afraid it is but too true that you consider -it nonsense,” he said, with a gravity that -surprised her. Immediately afterward he left -the room, and Margaret found herself alone -with the children, who insisted on pushing -the question to its remotest issue with a persistency -that was almost distracting.</p> - -<p>After this it was impossible but that she -should realize that her cousin was studying -her with a purpose. She could hardly suppose -that he thought seriously of asking her to -marry him, and yet the interest he displayed -in trying to direct her opinions pointed that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span> -way. She made a strong effort to shake off -the idea. Its deliberateness shocked her. -Charming as her cousin was, his calm philosophicalness -often irritated her, and she was -at times inclined to believe him cold-blooded -and selfish, until perhaps, just afterward, some -act of kindness to herself or his sister or the -children made her heartily ashamed of this -suspicion. And, indeed, it was an easy thing -to judge Alan Decourcy kindly. So he kept -his place as a trusty and beloved kinsman.</p> - -<p>Shortly before the end of Margaret’s allotted -week in Baltimore, Mrs. Gaston forwarded to -her an invitation to a large party to be given -by some people who happened to be friends of -Alan Decourcy also, and insisted that both -of them should come over in time for the entertainment. -Margaret’s week would be out, -she said, and no extension of leave would be -granted. So she was to come without fail, and -to bring Mr. Decourcy with her. Alan readily -acquiesced in the arrangement, and at the -proper time they set forth together.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span>Margaret was feeling particularly well-disposed -toward her cousin that afternoon, as -they steamed along in the express train together. -She had the recollection of a host of -kind acts toward herself stored away in her -mind, and it seemed to come almost more -naturally than usual to her to like this pleasant, -considerate, affectionate cousin.</p> - -<p>When they had reached Washington, and -were driving swiftly along the smooth asphalt -pavements in Cousin Eugenia’s snug coupé, -Margaret said, cordially:</p> - -<p>“You’ve done <i>everything</i> to make my visit a -happy one, Alan! I do thank you so much.”</p> - -<p>“It has been a happy time to me,” he said; -“<i>so</i> happy! How capitally we get on together, -Daisy—don’t we?”</p> - -<p>“It always makes me think of dear papa -to hear you call me Daisy,” answered the girl, -instinctively avoiding a direct answer to his -appeal. “I had forgotten that you called -me so.”</p> - -<p>“I have adopted it intentionally,” he said.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span> -“Margaret seems cold, and I want to get rid of -the sense of distance between us which our -long separation has engendered, for who knows -but by-and-by what you are pleased to call -nonsense now may come to look differently, as -use familiarizes it? Don’t turn upon me in -that sudden way, dear. I wouldn’t startle you -for the world. I only want you to promise to -think of me often, until after a while I come to -see you down in Bassett, and we can talk -things over quietly and calmly.”</p> - -<p>“I shall always think of you as a kind and -dear cousin,” answered Margaret.</p> - -<p>“But I cannot promise I shall always be -content with that,” he said, bending toward -her, with a motion of great gentleness, and -softly laying his gloved hand over hers. “My -sweet Margaret,” he murmured; “my strong -hope is, that some day I can teach you to think -of me as I would have you. And, meantime, I -can wait.”</p> - -<p>Margaret made an effort to withdraw her -hand, but he held it in a close, detaining clasp,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span> -and, looking up, she met his eyes fixed on her, -with a gaze so sweet and tender, that it somehow -seemed to soothe, while it agitated her. -Once more she attempted to withdraw her -hand, and this time he released it, but before -doing so he raised it to his lips and kissed it.</p> - -<p>Margaret felt deeply disturbed. It was -something very new to her to see this phase in -her cousin’s relationship toward her, and the -very fact that she felt in her heart no response -to these signs of tenderness, distressed her. -She knew the time must come when she would -have to deny and thwart him, and the idea -gave her pain. If she had hitherto doubted -that he really loved her, she doubted it no -longer. That look of his, as he lifted her hand -to kiss it, made doubt impossible. It was no -cool, cousinly affection; it was a passionate -emotion that looked out from his eyes.</p> - -<p>She felt relieved when the carriage stopped -at General Gaston’s door, and Alan, after handing -her out, took leave, to be driven to his -hotel to dine and dress. The remembrance of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span> -that look of his would not be shaken off, however, -and she appeared before Mrs. Gaston in -a somewhat pensive mood.</p> - -<p>Cousin Eugenia was delighted to see her, -and declared she had missed her unendurably. -She informed her, hurriedly, that they were all -well, and that Louis was in New York, having -been there ever since the day after her own -departure for Baltimore; and then they fell to -discussing Margaret’s costume for the party.</p> - -<p>“My white silk is all ready,” said Margaret, -somewhat listlessly. “I have not worn it yet, -you know. It is high, and perhaps better -suited to a dinner, but I like it, and suppose it -will do.”</p> - -<p>“That splendid old lace would make it elegant -enough for any occasion,” said Mrs. Gaston; -“and as to the high neck, somehow that -style suits you, in spite of the eminent presentability -of your neck and arms. But go -now to your room and take a good nap. Ring -for a cup of tea when you get up. I want you -to look very fresh to-night.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span>When Margaret entered her apartment, she -caught sight of a letter on her dressing-table, -and immediately her brows contracted. She -knew the hand. It was from Charley Somers, -and, to tell the truth, this young gentleman -was somewhat in disgrace. He had some -friends in Washington, and, a short time back, -he had written to Margaret to ask her to -allow him to come on and see her, with the -ostensible purpose of visiting these friends. -Margaret had written at once, and distinctly -forbidden him to come. The mere suggestion -made her indignant. It had the air of asserting -a claim when no shadow of such existed. -She supposed she had finally settled the matter, -and what had he to say in this letter? She -tore it open hastily and ran her eyes down the -length of its pages; when she reached the end -she threw it from her, with a motion of angry -indignation. Mr. Somers wrote to say that -the tone of her letter had made him feel so uneasy -that, even at the risk of incurring her displeasure, -he was coming on to Washington.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span> -Margaret hastily pulled out her watch. There -was yet time to catch the Southern mail. She -threw off her hat and wraps, and sitting down -at her desk scratched off a few hurried lines, -saying to Mr. Somers, that he might come to -Washington or not, exactly as it suited his -pleasure, but forbidding him, in plain terms, to -call upon her in the event of his doing so. -Without pausing to read it over, she addressed -and sealed the letter, and rang for a servant to -post it.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">WHEN Miss Trevennon, dressed for the -ball, descended to join her cousin that -memorable December evening, she looked undeniably -lovely, and so Mrs. Gaston admitted -to herself with supreme satisfaction. The -young girl’s tall beauty was superbly displayed -by this rather severe costume—with -its heavy, gleaming drapery falling about her, -white and plain. The flounces of rich lace -made a splendid trimming for the long skirt, -which trailed behind her in a graceful, shimmering -mass, and the pointed body outlined to -perfection her round and pliant waist. The -dress was cut high, and a fall of the lovely -lace finished the throat and sleeves.</p> - -<p>Miss Trevennon’s clear-cut, soft-tinted face -was somewhat inanimate this evening. The -ball had lost much of its charm since she had -contemplated the prospect in the morning.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span> -In the first place, the possibility of Charley -Somers coming to Washington troubled her, -and, in the second, Alan Decourcy’s words and -looks, with a chance of their repetition this -evening, made her uneasy. Besides these, -there was a feeling of disappointment, all the -keener for being unowned, even to herself, that -Louis Gaston should not be here to welcome -her back, and to share the interest and pride -Cousin Eugenia so evidently took in her appearance -at this ball.</p> - -<p>Arrived at their destination, Mrs. Gaston -and Margaret, escorted by General Gaston, -were passing through the main hall on their -way to the dressing-rooms, when they came -upon Alan Decourcy, with a sumptuously apparelled -lady on his arm. She was a decidedly -pretty woman, and Margaret observed that she -clung to her companion with an air of the -friendliest familiarity. She also observed that -her pink gauze costume was somewhat <i>decolleté</i>, -and that a strap of black velvet stood in lieu -of a sleeve across her white shoulder, a similar<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span> -bit supporting a superb pendant of diamonds, -which ornamented her fair, round throat.</p> - -<p>This lady bowed affably to Mrs. Gaston, and -regarded Margaret with a broad stare. Alan, -of course, spoke also, but for some reason -Margaret avoided doing more than just glancing -at him as she passed on toward the staircase.</p> - -<p>“And so Mrs. Vere already has your cousin -in her toils!” said Mrs. Gaston, as they were -approaching the dressing-room.</p> - -<p>“Was that Mrs. Vere?” said Margaret. -“Who is she?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, she’s one of the most noted of the -married belles!” said Mrs. Gaston. “If Mr. -Decourcy were not a man of the world and -well able to take care of himself, it might be -well for you to warn him. As it is, I feel no -anxiety about him.”</p> - -<p>“And who is Mr. Vere?”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Vere’s husband. He may or may not -be here. He’s apt to turn up in the supper-room.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span>Margaret said no more, but set herself to -the adjustment of her toilet with a certain air -of preoccupation. Having ascertained by a -glance that her costume was in order, she -stood looking very thoughtful as she waited -for her cousin, whose touches here and there -consumed a much longer time.</p> - -<p>When the two ladies emerged from the -dressing-room together, they found Alan Decourcy, -with General Gaston, awaiting them. -He had freed himself from Mrs. Vere, in some -way, and offered his arm to take Margaret into -the room. She laid her hand within it lightly, -and they followed General and Mrs. Gaston in -silence.</p> - -<p>After they had spoken to their hostess and -her daughters, Decourcy led Miss Trevennon -away to make the tour of the rooms, which -were ablaze with lights and flowers, and gorgeous -to behold.</p> - -<p>“There’s something very distinguished -about this dress you are wearing, Margaret,” -he said, in a tone that was caressingly sweet,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span> -“or is it, perhaps, my cousin’s lovely face and -figure that make it appear so? You are looking -your very best, yet I never saw you so -devoid of color.”</p> - -<p>“It’s the contrast with Mrs. Vere’s gorgeousness, -perhaps!” said Margaret, with a rather -strained little laugh. “When did you meet -Mrs. Vere, by-the-way?”</p> - -<p>He turned suddenly, and looked at her with -a glance of keen scrutiny, but, seeing the utter -unsuspiciousness of her frank gaze, he said -carelessly:</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Vere? Oh, she’s a very old friend! -I hardly remember the time when I didn’t -know Antoinette Vere.”</p> - -<p>“Did you know of her being in Washington?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed; I saw her when I was in -town, the other day. She lives here.”</p> - -<p>“Why, I wonder you did not tell me you -had this great friend living here, and make -her come to see me!” said Margaret, in her -honest way.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span>“I didn’t think of it,” he said, somewhat -constrainedly. “I didn’t suppose you’d care -for it.”</p> - -<p>He turned, then, and called her attention to -some especially pretty bit of decoration, and -Mrs. Vere was not mentioned again.</p> - -<p>In a few minutes Mr. Leary came up to -speak to Miss Trevennon, and, soon after, one -or two other acquaintances appeared, and -Margaret was importuned for dances.</p> - -<p>“I shall not dance this evening,” she said, -forming the resolution suddenly. She had not -thought of the matter before, but when the -time came she found herself indisposed to -dance. There were strong protests from the -young gentlemen, but these her decided manner -soon silenced, and when Mr. Leary offered -his arm, to take her to look for a seat, she -looked around for Decourcy and found that he -was gone.</p> - -<p>For a long while after this, she had not time -to think of her cousin. Scores of people were -presented to her, by Mrs. Gaston and others,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span> -and the General whispered to her that his -popularity with the young gentlemen this -evening was something phenomenal. She -went into the drawing-room and looked on for -a while, and though she kept to her resolution -she might have had two partners for every -dance, if she had chosen. Most of the men -whom she declined to dance with manifested -an entire willingness to stop and talk instead, -and throughout the evening she was so well -attended, that Cousin Eugenia, who had heard -with quaking of her resolution not to dance, -admitted to herself, in the end, that it had -given her young cousin a more distinguished -appearance.</p> - -<p>When the evening was growing old, and the -flowers began to droop and the music to flag; -when the girls began to look the worse for too -much dancing, and the men, in many cases, the -worse for too much wine, Miss Trevennon, finding -herself a little weary, yielded to the suggestion -of her companion for the moment, who -happened to be Lord Waring, and allowed herself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span> -to be led to a cool, dim recess in the conservatory, -where she sank into a seat to wait, -while Lord Waring went for a glass of water for -her. It was very still and quiet here. Almost -every one was occupied either in the supper-room -or in dancing, and Margaret supposed -herself to be quite alone, until the sound of -low-toned voices arrested her attention. Turning, -she caught sight, between the branches of -some densely leaved palms, of the figures of a -man and woman. The latter’s back was turned, -but Margaret recognized the pink costume -and smooth, bare shoulders. The head was -raised to meet the ardent gaze of the man -who bent above her. This man’s face was -turned full toward Margaret, and she, too, -could see that gaze—a tender, fervid look that, -but a few hours since, had been bent upon herself. -Instinctively she closed her eyes, afraid to -look longer, and feeling a quick pang of horror -as she remembered that so recently this man -had kissed her hand. Thank Heaven he had -never, for one instant, touched her heart—that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span> -she cared not an atom for him! But suppose -it had been different! Suppose the tenderness -he had so successfully counterfeited, the significant -words she had so implicitly believed, -had awakened an answering tenderness in her -heart!</p> - -<p>As these hurried thoughts rushed through -her mind, she rose to her feet, confused and -agitated. Again her troubled gaze rested for -one instant upon another vision of those two -figures through the vista of flowers and leaves, -but it was for an instant only, for she felt a -swift instinct of flight, and forgetting Lord -Waring and the fact that he would expect -to find her where he had left her, she fled -from the conservatory and entered the room -beyond. Bewildered, agitated, weak, uncertain, -she looked about her with a troubled -gaze, and met the steadfast eyes of Louis -Gaston.</p> - -<p>With a look of joyful relief she hastened toward -him and placed her hand, with a confiding -motion, within the arm he extended. His<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span> -calm and self-collected aspect, the firm support -of his strong arm, the repose of his quiet -manner, the freshness of his evening toilet, -recently made, which contrasted so pleasantly -with the somewhat dishevelled and flushed appearance -of many of the men at this late hour, -all these were so restful and reassuring that -Margaret drew a long breath of contentment -to find herself so safe.</p> - -<p>“Where did you come from?” she said. -“You were the very last person I expected to -see.”</p> - -<p>“I returned from New York by the evening -train, and, late as it was, I concluded to dress -and come to the ball. I have seen my hostess, -who has kindly forgiven my tardiness, and my -next thought was to find you. I was in the act -of seeking you in the supper-room when you -unexpectedly appeared before me, solitary and -alone.”</p> - -<p>“I was <i>so</i> glad to see you,” she said, with -the unconscious simplicity a child might have -shown.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span>He took her words as naturally as they were -uttered, and said simply:</p> - -<p>“How did you happen to be alone?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Lord Waring was with me,” she said, -suddenly, remembering her errant knight. -“He went to get me some water. I wonder -where he is.”</p> - -<p>At this moment Lord Waring appeared at -the door of the conservatory, glass in hand.</p> - -<p>Margaret hurriedly made her apologies, explaining -her having caught sight of Mr. Gaston -unexpectedly, his recent return from New -York, etc.</p> - -<p>His lordship accepted her explanation in -good part, and when Margaret had drunk the -water rather eagerly he went off to return the -glass, saying he would see her again.</p> - -<p>He had scarcely disappeared when Gaston -and Margaret, going out into the hall, saw Mrs. -Vere and Alan Decourcy coming toward them.</p> - -<p>Gaston suddenly stood still, detaining his -companion by a slight pressure of the arm, and -said, hurriedly:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span>“It is just possible that Mrs. Vere may ask -you to join a theatre-party she is getting up -for to-morrow evening. Forgive me if I take -the liberty of suggesting that you shall decline -if she should do so. Make an engagement to -go with me instead, and just excuse yourself -on the plea of a previous engagement. I hope -you will pardon my venturing to advise you.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” said Margaret; “but she will -not ask me. I do not know her.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Vere, however, was coming straight toward -them, and she now stopped in front of -them, and giving Louis a tap with her fan, -said:</p> - -<p>“Present me to Miss Trevennon,” and when -Gaston had complied, she went on in a rather -boisterous tone:</p> - -<p>“I’ve been teasing your cousin to present -me to you all the evening, Miss Trevennon; -but I suppose he wanted the monopoly of you, -for he would not even bring me into your -neighborhood.”</p> - -<p>“It may have been that he wanted the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span> -monopoly of yourself,” said Gaston, looking at -her keenly and speaking in his quietest tones.</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s more than you’ll ever want, -then!” said Mrs. Vere, pertly; “so you can -just keep yourself out of the matter.”</p> - -<p>“I have every intention of doing so, madam,” -said Gaston, gravely. “I know my -place, and I value my peace of mind.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Vere flashed a quick, vindictive glance -at him, as he uttered these quiet words, and -then turning to Margaret, she said:</p> - -<p>“I want to ask you to join a little theatre-party -I am giving to-morrow evening, Miss -Trevennon. There will be eight of us, and we -are going to see <i>As You Like It</i>, and have a -little supper at my house afterward. Now -don’t say you have any other engagement.”</p> - -<p>“Unfortunately I must,” said Margaret, conscious -of the insincerity of the qualifying term, -and yet too grateful to Louis for preparing -her for this contingency to feel very contrite -on account of it. “I have already pledged -myself elsewhere.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span>“How tiresome!” said Mrs. Vere, darting a -suspicious glance at Louis, which he met with -imperturbable gravity. “By-the-way, I called -on you while you were in Baltimore. I suppose -you got my card.”</p> - -<p>And, without waiting for an answer, she -moved away, on Decourcy’s arm, saying, as if -half involuntarily:</p> - -<p>“I detest that man.”</p> - -<p>Decourcy, who was looking somewhat preoccupied, -made no answer, until she gave his -arm a little jerk and said, with the petulance -of a child:</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with you? Why don’t -you speak?”</p> - -<p>“What can I say, except that I feel deeply -sorry for poor Gaston, and appropriately -grateful that I do not happen to be in his -place.”</p> - -<p>He spoke in his softest tones, but Mrs. Vere -knew instinctively that her spell was, for the -time being, broken. Well! it had been broken -before, she reflected, and she had always succeeded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span> -in mending it, and she felt confident -she could do so again.</p> - -<p>Meantime, as Margaret and Louis walked -away, to look for Mrs. Gaston, the former said:</p> - -<p>“Was it not rather odd that Mrs. Vere didn’t -ask you to join her party?”</p> - -<p>“She did,” said Louis. “She wrote me a note, -which was forwarded to me in New York.”</p> - -<p>“And what did you do?” asked Margaret.</p> - -<p>“Excused myself on the score of another -engagement.”</p> - -<p>“But you didn’t——” she began, and then -stopped with uplifted eyebrows.</p> - -<p>“I know,” he answered, smiling; “but I -foresaw at least the possibility that you would -be propitious.”</p> - -<p>“I think she’s angry with you about it.”</p> - -<p>“Very likely. She’s been angry with me -before.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know, until to-night, that she was -an old friend of Alan’s,” said Margaret.</p> - -<p>“Oh yes,” he answered, indifferently; “it’s -an affair of long standing, I hear.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span>“What do you mean?” said Margaret, facing -him with a sudden surprise, and then, remembering -the scene she had witnessed in the -conservatory, she averted her eyes, and was -silent.</p> - -<p>“I merely meant,” he answered, in a tone of -quick regret, “that I happened to hear Waring -say that they were friends in London, last year. -Mr. and Mrs. Vere spent the season there, and -your cousin happening to be there also, naturally -saw them often—all being Americans together.”</p> - -<p>At this point they caught sight of Mrs. Gaston, -and Margaret hastened to join her, and so -the subject was very willingly dropped by -them both.</p> - -<p>Cousin Eugenia declared and reiterated -that Margaret had been a shining success at -this ball, but of that the girl thought and cared -little. But for many days to come, the recurring -thoughts of that evening brought with -them certain memories that rankled, as well as -certain others that comforted and soothed.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIV.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap2">“AND so Mrs. Vere wanted you in her -theatre-party!” said Cousin Eugenia to -Margaret, the next morning, as they were driving -about in a flutter of preparation for Christmas. -Margaret had sent off a charming box -home, and she was now assisting Mrs. Gaston -in the completion of her various Christmas -schemes.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she answered quietly, “and I declined.”</p> - -<p>“Louis told me about it. It’s just as well -you got out of it. He was afraid he had ventured -too far in advising you. He said he -felt he had no sort of right to do it, and -that, in most cases, he should have held his -peace; but he couldn’t bear to think of you -in the midst of Mrs. Vere’s set, and he found -the impulse to prevent it too strong to be resisted.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span>“He was quite right,” said Margaret, feeling -a little throb of pleasure in the considerate interest -implied in what Mr. Gaston had said. -“I should not have wanted to go, in any case, -but I might not have known how to avoid it, -and he gave me the means. I felt very thankful -to him. But what is it that makes both -you and Mr. Gaston distrust Mrs. Vere?”</p> - -<p>Cousin Eugenia gave a little shrug.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Vere is extremely pretty,” she said, -“and of course she has admirers. She is certainly -very free in her ways with them, but I -know no more than that, and I certainly don’t -care to know more. I asked Louis why he objected -to your going with her, and he said, with -that frown of his, that you could not possibly -find any pleasure in her acquaintance. He -would say nothing more, but I felt sure, by the -way he looked, that there was a good deal kept -back.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder at Alan Decourcy,” said Margaret.</p> - -<p>“Do you?” said Mrs. Gaston. “I don’t.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span> -I have long since ceased to wonder at any -man’s admiring any woman.”</p> - -<p>“But how can he? He is so fastidious.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps I used the wrong word,” said -Mrs. Gaston; “to admire a woman is one -thing and to find her amusing is another. I -fancy Mr. Decourcy finds Mrs. Vere amusing—most -men do, indeed—and your cousin is -the sort of man with whom that is paramount. -With men of a certain type the woman who -can furnish them most amusement will ever -have the strongest hold upon them, and to -that type I rather think your fascinating -cousin belongs. As I said, most men find -Mrs. Vere amusing, and as her husband does -not look after her at all, the coast is clear for -them to come and be amused; and they come.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think Mr. Gaston finds her amusing,” -said Margaret.</p> - -<p>“Louis! I should think not!” said Mrs. -Gaston, warmly. “My dear, you don’t know -Louis yet—perhaps you never will. Very few -people besides Edward and I know what that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span> -boy is. I know him, through and through, -and I unhesitatingly declare that he’s an -angel. I believe he’s of a different grain from -other men. Mrs. Vere could no more ensnare -him than she could put shackles on a mist-cloud; -and for that reason—because she knows -her usual darts are powerless with him—she -is feverishly anxious to get him in her toils. -I’ll do her the justice to say her efforts have -been masterly. She’s left no stone unturned. -She’s tried the musical dodge, and invited him -to warble duets with her. That must have -been a temptation, for you know how he loves -music, and her voice is charming. She’s tried -the charity dodge, and has come to him with -tears in her eyes to get him to make plans for -cottages she proposed to erect for poor people -on her estate in the outer antipodes. He told -me about that himself, and what do you suppose -was his answer to her appeal? He told -her that when she had made arrangements -with the builder to go to work, to tell the latter -to write to him on the subject and he would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span> -gladly furnish the plans for her cottages and -feel himself honored in advancing her good -work—begged her not to mention the question -of payment, and bowed her out of his office -with the assurance that the builder’s letter -should find him most willing to co-operate, -and insisted that she should wash her fair -hands of these dry business details and leave -them entirely to the builder and himself. She -plucked up courage on the landing, to tell him -she had some plans to submit. He replied to -this that, as he had long since submitted himself -and all his designs and aspirations to his -partner, and as he did not venture to call his -soul, much less his squares and angles, his -own, without the approbation of Mr. Ames, -her plans must be submitted to the firm at -New York, where he would promise to give -them his circumspect attention under the -judicious eye of his chief. It must have been -a funny scene,” said Cousin Eugenia, smiling. -“Poor Mrs. Vere! She let him alone severely -for some time after that, but she finally began<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span> -again on another tack. I think she is beginning -to understand now that there is one man -who can resist her, and when once she is quite -persuaded that she is vanquished, how she -will hate him! There’s nothing she wouldn’t -do to avenge herself; but I fancy Louis is as -far beyond the range of her revenge as he is of -her fascination. The truth is, as to Louis,” -Cousin Eugenia went on, after a moment’s -pause, “that he’s radically cold-blooded. He’s -affectionate to his friends and relatives, and -really fond of many of them, but he’s absolutely -unemotional—not to be roused to deep -feeling. But for this fact I fear Mrs. Vere’s -efforts would have been long since crowned -with success. It is really a valuable trait for -a man to have, if it were only for its uniqueness, -but occasionally it’s a little bit exasperating. -Who but Louis, for instance, would have -lived all these weeks in the same house with a -charming girl like you without falling, at least -a little, in love with her? For you are a -charming girl, my dear, and Louis accurately<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span> -appreciates the fact; but there it ends. At -first I thought I saw signs of a speedy capitulation, -but it came to nothing. I ought to have -known the frogginess of my brother-in-law -better. I should have liked Louis to fall in -love with you, no matter how it ended. It -would have been nice to have you for a sister -and neighbor, and if that was not to be, it -would have been a satisfaction to see Louis -stirred out of his eternal calm, and concerning -himself about something over and above designs -and estimates. But I am afraid I am -never to have the supreme delight of seeing -Louis love-lorn. And you, my dear,” said -Cousin Eugenia, turning to look at her, “I begin -to fear you’re not very far from being -rather froggy yourself. It’s a very good thing -that you’ve taken no more of a fancy to Louis, -as it all turns out—(I fancied you, too, were in -some danger at first!)—but I do wonder how -you have kept so cool about that captivating -young man, your cousin, with his sweet, caressing -smiles and artful, foreign ways. The Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span> -Vere episode would have been rather a blow, -I fear, if you had set your affections in that -quarter.”</p> - -<p>“On the whole,” said Margaret, smiling, “it -seems to me that I am escaping a good many -breakers by remaining fancy free. But here -we are at our destination.”</p> - -<p>And so the conversation ended.</p> - -<p>During this day—the one that followed the -party—Margaret received a note from Charley -Somers, bearing a Washington post-mark. -Observing this, her first angry thought was to -return it unopened, so indignant was she at his -persistence, and when she presently decided to -read it, its humble and imploring tone did not -mollify her in the least. Her letter of course -had not reached him, and he had grown impatient -and concluded not to wait to hear from -her.</p> - -<p>She wrote him a few lines, declining explicitly -to see him, feeling herself justified in -taking so extreme a measure, as lesser ones -had failed to repress the young man’s ardor.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XV.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">ON Christmas-eve, after dinner, as General -and Mrs. Gaston, Miss Trevennon and Mr. -Louis Gaston were seated around the drawing-room -fire, a card of invitation was brought in -by Thomas, and delivered to General Gaston. -As he took it and scanned it through his -glasses, a perceptible gleam of satisfaction -came into his eyes, and he handed it to Mrs. -Gaston, saying:</p> - -<p>“A card for General Morton’s supper.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed!” returned his wife, with a reflection -of his gratified expression. “Really, this -is very kind.”</p> - -<p>As she took the card and looked at it, Margaret -surveyed her wonderingly. Turning her -eyes away from her cousin’s face, an instant -later, she saw that Louis Gaston was regarding -her with a sort of deprecating amusement. -He was seated near to her, and so he alone distinguished<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span> -her words, when she murmured, in -an undertone:</p> - -<p>“‘How strange are the customs of France’!”</p> - -<p>She smiled as she said it, and Cousin Eugenia, -who saw the smile, but missed the -words she had uttered, said explainingly:</p> - -<p>“This supper of General Morton’s is an annual -affair. He has given one on New Year’s -night ever since he has been in Washington. -They are limited to twenty-five gentlemen, and -of course these are carefully selected. It is -always the most <i>recherché</i> stag-party of the season, -and one is sure of meeting there the most -distinguished and agreeable people the city -will afford. He has always been so kind in -asking Edward, though of course the invitations -are greatly in demand, and residents cannot -always expect to receive them.”</p> - -<p>Nothing further was said about the matter -just then, but it was evident that this attention -from General Morton had put Mrs. Gaston -in unusually high spirits, and her husband, on -his part, was scarcely less elated.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span>A little later, when Louis and Margaret happened -to be alone, the former said:</p> - -<p>“I wish you would tell me what it was that -amused you about that invitation. The system -of social tactics, of which you are the exponent, -begins to interest me extremely. What was it -that brought that puzzled look to your face -just now?”</p> - -<p>“Shall I really tell?” the girl asked, doubtfully.</p> - -<p>“Pray do—frankly. I’m so interested to -know.”</p> - -<p>“I was wondering who this General Morton -could be, that a card to his supper should be -deemed such an acquisition. I have discovered -the fact that you Gastons are proud of your lineage, -and, as I have heard it said that yours is -one of the few really historical families of America, -perhaps it should not be wondered at. Who -then, can General Morton be, I was thinking, -to be in a position to confer honor on the Gastons? -I suppose he’s some one very grand, -but I’m such an ignoramus that I really don’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span> -know who the Mortons are, when they’re at -home.”</p> - -<p>“I believe Morton’s origin was very common,” -said Louis. “Certainly, he has no sort -of claim to aristocratic distinction. He has a -high official position and is very rich and a -very good-natured, sensible sort of man, but it -is out of the question that he could, socially -speaking, confer honor upon my brother.”</p> - -<p>“And yet it was evident,” began Margaret—but -she stopped abruptly, and Louis made no -motion to help her out.</p> - -<p>“Do you know,” he said, presently, “that, -through your influence, Miss Trevennon, I -have been gradually undergoing certain changes -in my points of view. I am getting an insight -into your social basis and system, and, stubborn -Yankee as I am, I must admit that there’s -something fine in it. I really think I begin to -feel myself veering perceptibly. Until I met -you, I had no idea what a difference there was -between the Northern and Southern ideas of -these matters.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span>“But I must not be taken as a strict representative -of the Southern idea—nor you, I suppose, -for a strict representative of the Northern -idea,” said Margaret. “At home, they -think me a great radical. I have no special -respect for pedigrees in general. That one’s -forefathers should have been honest is the first -thing, it seems to me, and that they should -have been social luminaries should come a -long way after.”</p> - -<p>“You rather amaze me in that,” said Louis. -“I thought there were no sticklers for birth and -ancestry like the Southerners.”</p> - -<p>“It is perfectly true of a large class of them,” -said Margaret; “but I have seen too much of the -degeneration of distinguished families in the -South, to have much sympathy with that idea. -In too many cases they have lacked the spirit -to save them from such degeneration, and, that -being the case, what does their blood go for? -It ought to go for nothing, I think—worse than -nothing, for if it has any virtue at all, it should -make its possessors independent and manly.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span>“You have sometimes sneered a little gentle -sneer at the Gaston pride—have you not?” -said Louis; “and I’ve sometimes thought it -odd, because I had always been told that the -pride of the Southern people is unprecedented.”</p> - -<p>“It is of a different sort,” said Margaret; -“for instance——”</p> - -<p>But she checked herself, and colored.</p> - -<p>“Oh, pray give me the example,” said Louis, -earnestly. “Illustrations are such helps. I -beg you will not let any over-sensibility prevent -your speaking plainly. It may be that you’ve -got the best of these social questions. I want -to be able to judge.”</p> - -<p>“How honest and fair you are!” said Margaret, -“and how rare that spirit is! I really -think I’ll tell you frankly what I was going to -say. You know what an appreciation of your -brother I have, and how entirely his fine qualities -command my respect, but I will not deny -that his bearing in the matter of this invitation -has amazed me. I think I am safe in saying<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span> -that no Southern man, in your brother’s sphere -of society, could possibly be found—no matter -how insulated or behind the times he might be—no -matter how poor or incapable or ignorant, -who could be agitated and flattered by an -invitation from General Morton or General -anybody else. The notion would never penetrate -their brains. But I am very bold,” she -said, checking herself suddenly. “I am afraid -I have said too much.”</p> - -<p>“It would be too much for any one else -to say to me certainly,” said Louis, looking -steadily at her, “and I cannot say the -idea you suggest is exactly palatable; but I -think I could hardly take offence at words of -yours.”</p> - -<p>At that moment the door-bell rang, and presently -Thomas announced General Reardon.</p> - -<p>“Generals seem to be the order of the day,” -said Margaret, with a smile, as the visitor was -crossing the hall. “I might be back in Bassett -for the prevalence of titles.”</p> - -<p>Miss Trevennon greeted General Reardon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span> -with great cordiality, and set herself at once -to the task of entertaining him. He called -only occasionally at the Gastons’ house, as he -did not enjoy their society any more than they -did his. He had been in the United States -Army before the war, and had been extremely -popular among the officers, being possessed of -a fund of anecdote and humor, which congealed -instantly in the atmosphere of the Gastons’ -drawing-room, but flowed freely enough in -camps and barracks. He was of a good Southern -family, and essentially a gentleman. His -visits, as has been indicated, were not especially -inspiring to the Gastons, but Cousin Eugenia -had detected in her husband a faint -tendency to slight this distant cousin of hers, -and it was just like her, after that, to treat him -with greater distinction. General Gaston, in -truth, found it a little difficult to ignore the -fact that he was an officer in the Federal army -who had gone with the South, and certainly -did not enjoy his visits; but he stood in some -awe of his wife, which enabled him partially<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span> -to conceal the fact that he chafed under her -cousin’s companionship.</p> - -<p>When Thomas had summoned his master and -mistress to the drawing-room, Mrs. Gaston -seated herself near General Reardon, and -at once fell into fluent conversation with him. -General Gaston, for his part, established himself -half-way between this couple and the pair -who were seated on the other side of the fire-place. -He sat very straight and erect in his -chair, occasionally making a rather forced -remark to General Reardon, who, in his turn, -was conscious of being bored and ill at ease, -but entirely unconscious of being the object -of any slight whatever. It occurred to him, -perhaps, that his host’s manner was peculiar, -even unfortunate, but it would have taken a -great deal to convey to his honest breast the -suspicion that any gentleman alive could mean -to slight a visitor in his own house.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Gaston, when she chose, could talk -agreeably to any one on almost any subject, and -she was now discussing crops and market-gardening,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span> -and listening, with great vivacity of -expression, to a detailed account that General -Reardon was giving of the reports his wife—whom -he called “Loose,” her name being Lucy—related -of the result of a little venture in the -way of a market-garden which they had made.</p> - -<p>“By-the-way, General,” said the visitor, -breaking off suddenly from his conversation -with Mrs. Gaston, and turning to address her -husband, as if struck with a sudden thought; -“are you invited to this supper of General -Morton’s?”</p> - -<p>Imperceptible bristles began to rise over -General Gaston’s surface. He drew himself -still more erect, and cleared his throat once or -twice before answering.</p> - -<p>“Ah—I beg your pardon—ah—yes,” said -General Gaston, with an inflection that suggested -that he was rather asking a question -than answering one. He cleared his throat -again and went on, with a certain superciliousness -that Margaret noted carefully. “General -Morton has been kind enough to remember me<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span> -and send me a card. There is always a very -distinguished company at these suppers of -his, and I shouldn’t think of missing this.”</p> - -<p>“Loose wants me to go,” responded General -Reardon, in indolent, indifferent tones that set -Margaret’s blood a-tingling with delight; “but -I don’t care anything about it. I s’pose the -men’ll all wear swallow-tails, and I haven’t got -one. I’ll tell Morton he’ll have to let me off.—What -I was going to tell you about the potato -crop, is this,” he said, returning to his conversation -with Mrs. Gaston, as being the more -interesting of the two. “Loose says, if we’d -planted Early Rose——”</p> - -<p>But Margaret listened no further. She knew -Louis was looking at her, and she had drawn -down the corners of her mouth, demurely, in -her efforts not to laugh; but her eyes brimmed -over with such sparkling merriment, that the -mouth’s quiescence went for little.</p> - -<p>Mr. Gaston presently drew out his watch, -and reminded Miss Trevennon of the fact that -it was nearly time to set out for the theatre, in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span> -fulfilment of their engagement, so she excused -herself, and went to put on her wraps.</p> - -<p>When the two young people found themselves -alone together, in the clear, bracing atmosphere -of the city streets—they had chosen -to walk—Margaret began the conversation by -saying:</p> - -<p>“Alan Decourcy called while we were out -driving this morning. I hope we shall not happen -to be in view of the theatre-party to night; -it would be a little awkward, as we both refused -to join it.”</p> - -<p>“Not at all,” said Louis, “they need never -know but that our engagement antedated their -invitation. Don’t give yourself any uneasiness -about that.”</p> - -<p>When they had gone on a few moments in -silence, Louis said in his pleasant voice, which -even in the darkness indicated that he was -smiling:</p> - -<p>“Well, you had your little triumph this -evening!”</p> - -<p>“I did,” returned Margaret, with a soft, little<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span> -laugh, “and I must say I enjoyed it. But I -was wondering how he happened to know General -Morton.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I dare say they were chums in the -United States Army, before the war,” said -Louis. “Only think what a chance that man -threw away! Why, if he had remained in the -Union army he might have been a Major-General -by this time.”</p> - -<p>“He is a Major-General, I think,” said Margaret, -demurely; “or is it only a Brigadier?”</p> - -<p>“You impertinent little rebel!” said Louis. -“How dare you say that to me? How do you -know I will submit to such audacity? You -make heavy draughts upon my clemency.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid I do,” said Margaret; “but I’ve -always had them generously honored. But -while we are on the subject, there’s one thing -that I do want to say to you. Do you know, I -have observed that your brother never gives -General Reardon his title? In speaking of -him to me or Cousin Eugenia, he always says -‘your cousin,’ and in speaking to him he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span> -avoids calling him anything at all. Once only, -when he had to say something, he called him -‘Mr. Reardon.’ He did indeed!”</p> - -<p>“Well, in point of fact, you know,” said -Louis, rather uncomfortably, “he’s got no -more right to the title of General than you -have. The point has been definitely decided. -It is only a matter of courtesy.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know who had the power to decide -it,” Margaret said; “but we are not considering -the point of legal right. Its being, as you -admit, a matter of courtesy, should settle the -thing, I think. Don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said, “I do. I’m not sure I always -thought so, but I do now.”</p> - -<p>When they reached the theatre, they found -the overture just begun. A few minutes later -they saw Mrs. Vere’s party enter and place -themselves in their box. The dashing young -hostess led the way, and seated herself <i>en évidence</i>, -with a brilliant party grouped about her. -One or two of these Margaret recognized, and -Louis knew them all, naming them, without<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span> -comment, to Margaret. There was some one -whom they did not see, sitting in the shadow -behind the curtain, and to this person Mrs. -Vere directed a greater part of her attention. -She constantly leaned to speak to him, or -bowed her head to catch his utterances, casting -toward him now and then the languishing -looks which her peculiarly long eyelashes -rendered so effective. Margaret felt that this -person was Alan Decourcy, and at the end of -the first act her suspicion was proved to be correct, -as he then rose and came to Mrs. Vere’s -side to take a survey of the house. He looked -very graceful and elegant, but, in some way, the -great charm his appearance had once possessed -for her was gone.</p> - -<p>When she turned her eyes away from him, -they rested, almost without any volition of her -own, upon Louis Gaston’s quiet profile. He -was looking away from her, and so she could -scan at leisure the earnest lineaments that had -in them a genuineness and nobleness so much -better than beauty. The more she felt her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span> -disappointment in Alan Decourcy, the more -she believed in and rested upon Louis Gaston’s -friendship. Imperceptibly her regard -for him had widened and deepened, until now -merely to think of him was to feel peaceful and -safe and at rest.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVI.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">CHRISTMAS Day was fine and brilliant, and -Margaret awaked early. Her first thoughts -were of home and distant friends. How well -she knew that the dear father and mother, far -away in Bassett, were thinking of her! As she -rose and dressed, her heart was in full unison -with the day’s sweet lesson of peace and goodwill, -and when she knelt to say her morning -prayers, she had a vague feeling that somehow -this Christmas Day was a fuller and better one -than any she had known before. She did not -ask herself what was the new element in her -life that made it so; it was too indefinite to -be formulated into a tangible idea, but she felt -conscious of its presence.</p> - -<p>General and Mrs. Gaston had a charming -present for her when she went down to breakfast—a -pair of exquisite gold bracelets of the -most beautiful design and workmanship, and,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span> -as they seemed really pleased with the little -presents that she had prepared for them, they -had a very satisfactory beginning of their -Christmas Day. After breakfast, she went to -her room to write a letter home, and when -that was done it was time to dress for church.</p> - -<p>A little before eleven, as Miss Trevennon was -standing in the deep bow-window of the drawing-room, -equipped for the morning service, -she heard a firm tread on the carpet behind -her, and the next moment her somewhat rusty -little Prayer-book and Hymnal were slipped -from her hand, and a marvellous tortoise-shell -case, containing two beautiful little books, substituted -for them. Margaret looked up quickly, -and met Louis Gaston’s smiling eyes. He had -searched New York over for the prettiest set -he could find, and the result satisfied him.</p> - -<p>“You will use these instead, will you not?” -he said. “I wanted to give you some little -thing.”</p> - -<p>A flush of pleasure rose to Margaret’s face.</p> - -<p>“I never saw anything half so lovely,” she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span> -said, handling them delightedly. “To think -of your taking the trouble! I suspect my -shabby little books offended your fastidious -taste. I never dreamed of your remembering -me in this kind way. I wish I had a present -for you.”</p> - -<p>“You might give me the old ones, perhaps,” -he said, hesitatingly. “I should think it a -munificent return, for, as you say, they are worn -and shabby, and that comes only from much -using. How often they have been in your -hands when your thoughts were away with -God! I should like to keep them as a souvenir -of you. May I, if you don’t particularly -value them?”</p> - -<p>“I should be only too glad for you to have -them,” said Margaret, in a low voice. “Only I -did not think you would care for anything like -that. I asked Cousin Eugenia once what -church your family belonged to, and she said -you called yourselves Unitarians, but practically -you were pagans. I couldn’t help hoping -it was not really true—of you at least.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span>“It isn’t in the least true of me,” he said, -frowning, and looking so displeased that Margaret -was almost sorry she had spoken. “I -would not, for anything, have you to suppose -me an irreligious man, for it is not true, and -I never even called myself a Unitarian. On -the contrary, I was wishing a little while ago -that I could go with you to church, so that you -and I might keep this day holy together.”</p> - -<p>“Do,” said Margaret, earnestly. “I have -seen that you do not very often go. Go with -us to-day, and make a resolve for better things -in future. You would be so wise to do it.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think I will go this morning,” he -said; “Eugenia has not room for me in the -coupé. But will you let me take you to-night? -We will walk, perhaps, if it remains fine, and -the music will be lovely. Perhaps, if we’re -lucky, they will get some good voice to sing -the <i>Cantique de Noël</i>.”</p> - -<p>“I love that so dearly,” Margaret said. “I -shall be delighted to go with you.”</p> - -<p>A little sigh rose, as she spoke. This was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span> -one of Charley Somers’ favorites; she had -taken pains to see that he sang it correctly, -and his voice was trained to it beautifully.</p> - -<p>Her reflections were cut short by the appearance -of Mrs. Gaston, who swept down the steps, -elaborately arrayed in furs and velvets, and -signified her readiness to set out.</p> - -<p>Louis helped them into the carriage, and -then turned away, saying he was going for a -long walk. There was a look of gravity on his -face that Margaret found herself recalling long -afterward.</p> - -<p>The weather continued fine, and it proved -quite mild enough for Louis and Margaret to -walk to church in the evening. As they took -their way along the gayly lighted streets, the -young man turned suddenly and, looking down -into her face, said:</p> - -<p>“Do you know, I found a little pressed -flower in my Hymnal, when I opened it this -morning. Am I to keep it or return it to -you?”</p> - -<p>They were just under a gas-light, and Margaret,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span> -though she would not drop her eyes under -his searching gaze, felt that she looked confused, -as she said:</p> - -<p>“No; you must give that back to me. I had -forgotten it.”</p> - -<p>It was a little flower that Charley Somers -had put in there one evening, and she had -never happened to remove it.</p> - -<p>Mr. Gaston put his hand into his pocket and -took out the book. It opened easily at the -place, and he removed the flower, which was -run into a little slit, and handed it to her as -they entered the church vestibule.</p> - -<p>“There were some initials under it,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you can just rub those out. It doesn’t -matter,” said Margaret, as she took the flower. -She was about to crush and throw it from her, -when a pang of pity for poor Charley checked -her; so she opened her own Prayer-book and -hurriedly slipped it among the leaves.</p> - -<p>The service seemed wonderfully sweet to -her that night. The hymns and anthems were -triumphant and inspiring, and the sermon was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span> -simple, earnest and comforting. Louis found -his places, and used his little book sedulously, -and Margaret felt intuitively that this service -was sweet to him also. As she glanced at -him occasionally, she saw that his face looked -serious and a little careworn, now that she saw -it in such perfect repose.</p> - -<p>The sermon was ended now. The congregation -had risen at its termination, and had -settled again in their seats. The wardens -were walking up the aisle to receive the alms-basins, -when the organ began to murmur a -low prelude. Louis and Margaret glanced at -each other quickly. It was the <i>Cantique de -Noël</i>.</p> - -<p>Margaret leaned back in her seat, serene and -restful, prepared for a deep enjoyment of the -pleasure before her, and at that moment a rich, -sweet voice, high up in the choir behind her -began:</p> - -<p class="center">“Oh, holy night——”</p> - -<p>At the first note uttered by that voice the -color rushed to Miss Trevennon’s cheeks, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span> -she drew in her breath with a sound that was -almost a gasp.</p> - -<p>And up on high the beautiful voice sang on:</p> - -<p class="center">“It is the night of the dear Saviour’s birth.”</p> - -<p>Higher and sweeter it soared—thrilling, rich, -pathetic—and how familiar to the young girl’s -ears was every modulation and inflection! -How often had that flood of melody been -poured forth, for her ear alone, in the old -parlor at home!</p> - -<p>It was Charley Somers, and she knew that he -had seen her, and that he was singing to her -now, no less than then. She listened, as in a -dream, while the wistful, yearning voice sang -on. And now came the words:</p> - -<p class="center">“Fall on your knees! fall on your knees!”</p> - -<p>They were somewhat indistinct, in their -mingling of sweet sounds, and, in some vague -way, it seemed to Margaret that they were a -direct appeal from Charley Somers to her for -mercy and pardon.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span>It was all so moving, and Gaston felt so -touched by it himself, that it scarcely surprised -him when he glanced at Margaret, as -the sweet voice died away, to see that her eyes -were full of tears. As they knelt for the concluding -prayer she brushed away the traces -of these, and when they walked down the aisle -together her calmness had quite returned. -And how calm and quiet her companion -looked! His perfectly chosen clothes, the -smooth neatness of his short, dark hair, and, -more than all, his self-collected bearing and -thoughtful face, made him a contrast to the -rather carelessly dressed young man, with -dishevelled, curly locks, and eager, restless -eyes, who stood in the vestibule, at the foot of -the gallery steps, rapidly scanning the faces of -the dispersing congregation, in complete unconsciousness -of the fact that his somewhat -singular conduct and appearance were being -observed by those around him. As his restless -gaze at last fell upon Miss Trevennon, his knit -brows relaxed, and he pressed forward.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span>“May I come to see you to-morrow?” he -said, in eager tones, which, though low, were -distinctly audible to Louis.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied Margaret at once, in a somewhat -tremulous voice, “at eleven in the morning.”</p> - -<p>Then, taking her companion’s arm, she -passed on. Louis had observed that the two -did not shake hands, nor exchange any word -of greeting. This hurried question and answer -was all that passed between them. What had -there been in a short, casual meeting like that -to make the girl look pale and excited, as her -companion saw by a furtive glance that she -was? He could feel her hand tremble slightly -when she first laid it within his arm, but the -little, almost imperceptible flutter soon ceased, -and she walked on very quiet and still. And -so they took their way along the streets in -silence. She did not seem inclined to talk, -and he would not jar her by speaking.</p> - -<p>Margaret, as she mused upon this meeting, -was blaming herself for the concession she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span> -had made, which was indeed attributable altogether -to the music.</p> - -<p>“I have no resolution or power of resistance -whatever, when I’m under the influence -of music,” she said to herself, half angrily. -“It takes away my moral accountability. I -don’t believe the story of the sirens is a fable. -A beautiful voice could draw me toward itself -as truly as the pole draws the magnet. It is -intense weakness. I ought to have told him -No, and ended the matter at once.”</p> - -<p>Remembering that her companion would -have reason to wonder at her silence, Margaret -roused herself with an effort and made some -comment on the service.</p> - -<p>“It was all very beautiful,” said Louis. “I -felt it very much, and I feel very happy to -have gone. That solo was exquisitely sung. -The voice does not seem to be highly cultivated, -but it was thrillingly sweet.”</p> - -<p>“It was Mr. Somers, the young man from -Bassett, whose voice I have spoken to you -of. He has just come to Washington, and I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</span> -knew he would want to see me, so I named an -hour when I was sure to be free.”</p> - -<p>When they had reached home and were -going up the steps, they found Thomas opening -the door for a colored servant-man, who -had two small parcels in his hand. He took -off his hat and stepped back as they came up, -and Thomas said:</p> - -<p>“It is a parcel for Miss Trevennon.”</p> - -<p>Margaret turned and held out her hand for it.</p> - -<p>“Where from?” she said.</p> - -<p>“From the Arlington, Miss,” replied the -man, in evident trepidation. “I’m very sorry, -Miss, but there’s been a mistake. It was to -have been sent this morning, but it has been -such a busy day that it has been forgotten. -Mr. Decourcy left particular orders, and I hope -you’ll be kind enough to excuse the delay, -Miss.”</p> - -<p>Margaret turned the parcel so as to get the -light from the hall gas upon it. As she did so, -her expression changed quickly. It was addressed -to Mrs. Vere.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span>“There is some mistake,” she said, coldly, -with a certain high turn of the head that Louis -knew. “This is not for me.”</p> - -<p>The poor negro, who was perhaps somewhat -the worse for the wine remnants left by the -Arlington’s Christmas guests, was overwhelmed -with confusion, and, quickly extending the -other package, explained that he had made a -mistake between the two, and asked Miss Trevennon -rather helplessly to see if this one was -not addressed to herself.</p> - -<p>It proved to be so; and though, under the -circumstances, Margaret would have preferred -not to touch it, she was compelled to take it -and dismiss the man, which she did somewhat -curtly.</p> - -<p>She did not examine her parcel until she -reached her own room, and even then she -tossed it on the bed, and removed her wraps -and hat and put them away before she untied -the string which bound it. Once she thought -she would put it out of sight until to-morrow, -but, despite her disfavor toward the giver, she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span> -had a young lady’s natural curiosity as to the -gift, and so she presently took it up and untied -it. A little note fell out. It was dated Christmas -morning at nine, and ran:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“I am just leaving for Baltimore, under a -pledge to spend to-day with Amy and the -children. I have been more than disappointed—<i>hurt</i> -at missing you, both when I called -and at the theatre last evening. I did not -know you had been present, until I heard it by -accident, after we had left. It had not at all -entered into my calculations to forego the -pleasure of taking leave of you in person, and -I propose to get the better of fate by returning -in a day or two for this purpose.</p> - -<p>“Merry Christmas, dear Daisy, and all good -wishes for the coming year! Who knows what -it may have in store for us?</p> - -<p>“Wear my little present sometimes for the -sake of yours devotedly, A. D.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>“So much for note number one!” said Margaret. -“It would be interesting to have a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span> -glance at note number two, which I have no -doubt is equally tender and gracious.”</p> - -<p>She took up the little leather case and opened -it, revealing a beautiful locket. In spite -of herself, she could not withhold a tribute -to her cousin’s taste. The workmanship and -design of this little ornament were so effective -and so uncommon that she felt sure Alan must -have gone to some trouble about it, and most -likely had it made expressly for her.</p> - -<p>“He <i>is</i> kind,” she said, regretfully. “It <i>was</i> -good of him to go back to Baltimore, in order -that Amy and the children should not be disappointed. -I almost wish I had not made this -new discovery about him; but no, no, no! It -would have been dreadful to be ignorant of -the real truth of the matter.”</p> - -<p>It occurred to her now to open the locket -and, on doing so, her cousin’s high-bred face -looked out. The very sight of it made her recoil -inwardly. How well she remembered the -look of these same eyes, as they had been bent -upon Mrs. Vere, with an expression she would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span> -have liked to forget. What right had he to -expect her to wear his picture? Why should -she?</p> - -<p>He had sent another note and another present -elsewhere. Was there another picture, -which some one else had been gracefully urged -to wear, for the sake of hers devotedly? It -was more than probable!</p> - -<p>“I half believe I begin to understand him,” -she said to herself, indignantly. “It is one of -his sage and correct opinions that a man -should marry, but all the same a man wants -his little diversions. Under these circumstances -he had better marry an amiable, easy-going -young thing, who is healthy and cheerful, -who knows nothing of the world, and who -will leave him to pursue his little diversions -undisturbed. It is perfectly humiliating! I -will return his locket, for the very sight of it -would always sting me.”</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">MR. SOMERS came promptly at eleven, the -next morning, and Margaret received him -in the drawing-room alone. She had given orders -that she should be denied to any early visitors -who might be coming in, and was resolved -that she would be just and patient with the -young man, though she was also resolved that -the nature of their relationship should be -definitely settled and understood, during this -interview.</p> - -<p>They had not been seated long when Margaret -heard Louis Gaston’s voice speaking to -a servant in the hall. She looked up in surprise, -as she had supposed him to be at his -office an hour ago. He came in, with his overcoat -on, and his hat in his hand, and when -Margaret presented him to Mr. Somers he cordially -offered him his disengaged hand. Margaret -was struck with the contrast between the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span> -two general exteriors, as she had been the -night before, but she was not a whit ashamed -of her old friend. She told herself that no -man with eyes in his head could fail to see -that Somers was a gentleman, and, for the rest, -it did not matter.</p> - -<p>“I learned from my sister-in-law,” said -Louis, addressing Mr. Somers, “that Miss -Trevennon was receiving a visit from a friend -from home; and Mrs. Gaston has authorized -me to come and engage you for dinner to-day, -if you have no other appointment. I hope you -will be able to come.”</p> - -<p>Margaret, glancing at Mr. Somers, was distressed -to see that he looked decidedly ungracious. -She saw, by his manner, that he -suspected that this smooth-spoken Yankee was -going to patronize him, though nothing could -have been franker and less patronizing than -Gaston’s whole bearing.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” Mr. Somers answered, rather -curtly, “I have another engagement.”</p> - -<p>Louis expressed the hope that he would give<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span> -them another day while he was in Washington, -and asked for his address, saying that he would -call upon him.</p> - -<p>Mr. Somers, having a hazy impression that -to hand his card was the proper thing, and not -wishing to be outdone in <i>savoir-faire</i>, fumbled -in his pocket and produced a tumbled envelope, -out of which he drew a visiting-card of imposing -proportions. Margaret glanced at it quickly, -and saw, to her horror, that it was printed! -In the midst of a wide expanse of tinted pasteboard -was inscribed <i>C. R. Somers</i>, in aggressive -German type. She smiled to herself, as she -made a swift mental comparison between this -card and another—a pure-white little affair, -with <i>Mr. Louis Gaston</i> engraved on it in quiet -script. She knew well what Gaston was thinking -of Charley, as he waited quietly while -the latter wrote his address and handed him -the cumbrous card with rather a bad grace, -and she knew as well what Charley, as he -scribbled off the street, and number of his -friend’s house, was thinking of Mr. Gaston. It<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span> -was all very absurd, and she could not help -feeling and perhaps looking amused.</p> - -<p>Louis lingered to make a few more friendly -overtures, but these were so loftily received -by Mr. Somers that he soon found it best to -take leave, and, with a pleasant “<i>Au revoir</i>” to -both, he turned and left the room.</p> - -<p>“A French-talking, phrase-turning dandy!” -said Charley, as soon as his back was turned. -“I wonder that you can tolerate such a man, -Margaret.”</p> - -<p>“It would be interesting to ascertain his -opinion of you,” returned Margaret. “If he -puts no higher estimate on your conduct on -this occasion than I do, perhaps it is as well -for us to remain in ignorance of it.”</p> - -<p>“And do you suppose I care one penny for -his opinion? If you do, you are much mistaken. -I was obliged to give my address when -he asked for it, but I hope he’ll not trouble -himself to call. I have no desire to improve -his acquaintance.”</p> - -<p>“And yet you might find it not only pleasant<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>[255]</span> -but profitable,” said Margaret. “There -are many things that you might, with great -benefit, learn from him.”</p> - -<p>“Upon my word, Margaret, this is a little -too much,” exclaimed Somers. “You have -abandoned and repudiated your own people in -a very short while, when you can talk of my -learning from a conceited Yankee fop like -that.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t the first time I’ve advised you to -take lessons from the Yankees,” said Margaret; -“and as to Mr. Gaston’s being conceited, -I really think he’s less so than you are, Charley, -though he knows much more. As to his -being a Yankee—well, yes, he is a Yankee, as -we should say, and he’s a very capable and -accomplished one. And as to the third point, -of his being a dandy, you know very well he is -simply a remarkably well-dressed man, whose -appearance in your heart you admire, in spite -of your tall talking. But what’s the use of all -this? It isn’t dress, nor nationality, nor deportment -even, that makes the man. Superficially,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>[256]</span> -you two are very unlike, but I think -the discrepancy as to your real natures is by -no means so great. You are a pair of true and -honorable gentlemen at heart—at least, I believe -Mr. Gaston to be such, and I know you -are, Charley.”</p> - -<p>She spoke in a tone of great gentleness for -she knew that, before this interview ended, she -must say words which would bruise his poor -heart cruelly, and it was a kind and honest -heart, which had long cherished for her a true -and steadfast devotion By degrees she led -him on to a quieter mood, and spoke to him -gravely and earnestly of their future lives—his -and hers—which, as she gently tried to show -him, must needs lie apart. He had heard her -utter these sad words before, but there was a -difference—an absolute resolve in looks and -tones that compelled him to realize that this -time they were final. And yet she had never -been so gentle and so kind.</p> - -<p>“I think too highly of you, Charley,” she -said, when their interview was drawing to a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>[257]</span> -close, “to believe that you will let this feeling -for me ruin your life. There is so much a -man may do! The very thought of it is tantalizing -to a woman sometimes. Oh, Charley, be -in earnest. It is all you lack. Do something—no -matter what, so it is <i>work</i>, and do it faithfully -and well. I think that, in itself, would -make you almost happy. But don’t think -about happiness. Indeed, I think that does -not signify so very much. Think only of filling -your place in the world and doing your duty to -God and man, and happiness will come of -itself.”</p> - -<p>When she sent him from her at last, the -hope which had until now lived in his bosom -was quite, quite dead, never to revive again; -and yet, with the relinquishment of that hope, -a new life seemed to spring up within him, -which made him resolve, before he left her -presence, that he would win her approval -though he could never win her love. He -knew he could not feel that he had ever possessed -her entire approbation, and it was well<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>[258]</span> -worth striving for—better, he said to himself, -as many another good man has said, in those -first moments of sad renunciation, than another -woman’s love.</p> - -<p>That evening Charley Somers formed a sudden -resolution. He would not go back to the -South and the old stagnating life, which had -already made its sad impress upon his mind -and character. He would set out at once to -South America, to join some resolute fellows -who were friends of his, who had gone to seek -their fortunes, and had often urged him to -come to them. He did not see Margaret again, -but wrote her a manly note of farewell, over -which she shed tears enough to have recalled -him from the ends of the earth, if, by ill-luck, -he could have seen them.</p> - -<p>It happened that Louis Gaston, chancing to -meet her on her way to her room with this letter, -which she had just been reading, open in -her hand, saw her tearful eyes and pale, distressed -face; he further noted traces of weeping -that would have escaped a superficial<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span> -observer, when she appeared at dinner an hour -later. He could not help associating these -signs with Mr. Somers, and when he took -occasion to mention the latter’s name, in -speaking to Mrs. Gaston after dinner, he was -scarcely surprised when she informed him -that she had heard, through Margaret, that -Mr. Somers had already left for South America, -to be gone indefinitely.</p> - -<p>“He goes to seek his fortune,” said Mrs. -Gaston; “therefore I say his return is indefinite.”</p> - -<p>“And if he finds it,” said Louis Gaston to -himself, “and the girl he loves consents to -share it with him, a man might well envy him. -And if she consents not, what will the fortune -avail him? It may be that she has already -consented! Most likely the sweet pledge has -been given, and he goes to seek his fortune -with the knowledge that her hopes and fears -are entwined about him. What mightn’t a man -accomplish with such a reward as his in -view?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span>These reflections passed through his mind, -as he sat quietly on one side of the room -watching Miss Trevennon as she sat talking to -his brother, only her fair, sweet profile turned -toward him, and a slightly distressed look on -her face, which his searching eyes alone discovered.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>[261]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">A FEW days after Christmas, as Margaret -was in her room, writing one of her frequent -long letters home, Mr. Decourcy’s card -was brought to her. It was with a strong feeling -of reluctance that she went down to him, -and she stopped at Mrs. Gaston’s door, hoping -her cousin would accompany her. Mrs. Gaston, -however, was lying on the lounge, reading -a novel, and she declared herself to be too tired -to stir; so Margaret was obliged to go down -alone.</p> - -<p>After her first impulse had died away, she -had concluded to keep the locket, as she felt -she had no reason to take so extreme a step as -to return it. Nothing, however, would induce -her to wear Alan Decourcy’s picture, and that -she meant to let him know.</p> - -<p>It was the first time that Margaret had -spoken to her cousin since witnessing the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>[262]</span> -scene with Mrs. Vere in the conservatory, and -the recollection of that scene necessarily -threw a certain amount of constraint into her -manner.</p> - -<p>Not observing this, however, Mr. Decourcy -came toward her, with some words of ardent -greeting, and when she extended her hand he -made a motion to raise it to his lips. With a -movement that was almost rough in its suddenness, -Margaret snatched her hand away.</p> - -<p>“Margaret! What can this mean?” said -Decourcy, in a tone of surprised reproach.</p> - -<p>Miss Trevennon gave a little, constrained -laugh.</p> - -<p>“I don’t like that sort of thing,” she said, -lightly. “Don’t do it again. It’s unpleasant -to me.”</p> - -<p>“Forgive me,” he answered, with the utmost -gentleness, untinged by any shade of pique. -“I beg your pardon. I am very sorry.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, never mind! It doesn’t matter,” said -Margaret, hurriedly. “Thank you so much -for the locket, Alan. It is lovely—far lovelier<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>[263]</span> -than I have any idea of, I dare say, for I am -so ignorant about such things.”</p> - -<p>“I hoped it would please you,” he said. -“You saw the picture I ventured to put in it? -And will you consent to wear it?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know about that,” she said, somewhat -uneasily. “It was very kind of you to -put it in, but I never have worn any one’s -picture. I know you’re a cousin, and all that, -but I think, if you don’t mind, I’ll take the -picture out and put it——”</p> - -<p>But he interrupted her.</p> - -<p>“It isn’t because I am your cousin, Margaret, -that I want you to wear my picture,” he -said. “On the contrary, I hope for the time -when you will forget that relationship in a -nearer and tenderer one——”</p> - -<p>“Alan! Stop. You must not go on,” said -Margaret, with sudden vehemence. “There -can be no thought of a nearer relationship between -us at any time. If we are to be friends -at all, this subject must not be mentioned -again.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>[264]</span>“Forgive me; I have startled you,” he said. -“I meant not to do that. I do not want to -constrain you or to force this hope of mine -upon you too suddenly, but I cannot lightly -give it up. It has been with me, during all my -wanderings to and fro—if not the definite hope, -at least an appreciation of the fact that my -sweet cousin was endowed, more than any woman -whom I had known, with all the attributes -and qualities a man could desire in his companion -for life. I cannot, even yet, quite -abandon the hope that I may yet induce you -to accept my devotion.”</p> - -<p>Margaret might have borne the rest, but this -word galled her.</p> - -<p>“Devotion!” she said mockingly, with a -little scornful laugh. “Oh, Alan!”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean? Why should you -speak to me in that tone? It is unfair, Margaret. -It is not like you.”</p> - -<p>“I mean,” she said, growing grave, and -speaking with a sudden, earnest vehemence, -“that you degrade the word devotion, when<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>[265]</span> -you call the feeling you have to offer me by -that name. I know too well what real devotion -means. I have too just an estimate of its -goodness and strength to call the cool regard -you have for me devotion! A cool regard between -cousins does well enough, but that feeling -in connection with marriage is another -thing, and I had better tell you, here and now, -that I would live my life out unloved and -alone, sooner than I would wrong myself by -accepting such a counterfeit devotion as this -that you offer me.”</p> - -<p>Decourcy, who was, of course, entirely ignorant -of the ground on which Margaret’s strong -feeling was based, heard her with amazement. -The only explanation that suggested itself was -that some one, who happened to be aware of -his rather well-known affair with Mrs. Vere, -had informed his cousin. It was, therefore, -with a tone of injured gentleness, that he said:</p> - -<p>“Margaret, you surprise and grieve me inexpressibly -by such words as those. I can only -account for them by the possibility of some<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>[266]</span> -one’s having given you false ideas about me. -There are always people to do these things, -unfortunately,” he went on, with a little sigh -of patient resignation; “but you should have -hesitated before believing a story to my disadvantage. -I would have been more just to -you.”</p> - -<p>“There has been no story told,” said Margaret. -“If there were any stories to tell, they -have been kept from me. Do not let us pursue -this topic, Alan, and when we drop it now, let -it be forever. It is quite out of the question -that we can ever be more to each other than -we are now.”</p> - -<p>“As you have said it,” he replied, “my only -course is a silent acquiescence. Painful and -disappointing as such a decision is to me, since -it is your decision I have no word to say -against it. But with regard to the lightness -and insincerity you have charged me with, I -have a right to speak and I must.”</p> - -<p>Reassured by Margaret’s assertion that no -one had maligned him to her, he felt strong to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>[267]</span> -defend himself, and it was, therefore, in the -most urgent tone that he said:</p> - -<p>“I feel it hard, Margaret, very hard, that you -should harbor such opinions of me, when my -thoughts of you have been all tenderness and -trust. Was it not enough that you should deprive -me, at one blow, of the hope that I have -cherished as my dearest wish for the future, -without adding to the bitterness of that disappointment, -the still keener one of feeling that -I must endure your contempt?”</p> - -<p>There was no doubt of his earnestness now. -He was fired by a genuine interest, and he -longed to recover the good opinion of this -spirited, high-souled girl more than he had -longed for anything for years.</p> - -<p>“You were never unreasonable, Margaret,” -he went on, “and therefore I feel sure I may -rely upon you to give me your reasons for this -change toward me—for you will not deny that -you are changed.”</p> - -<p>“Why talk about it, Alan? I like you very -well. I suppose you’re as much to be believed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>[268]</span> -in as other men. The mistake I made was in -supposing you to be superior to them. You -would not like the idea of being on a pedestal, -I know; so be content, and let us say no more -about the matter.”</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, if I cannot consent,” he answered, -gravely. “It is no light matter to me -to lose your regard; and when you remember -that I have long hoped to make you my wife, -some day, I think you will feel that that fact -creates an indebtedness on your part to me, -and gives me the right to demand an explanation -from you.”</p> - -<p>His tone of conscious rectitude and the reproachful -sadness of the eyes he turned upon -her, made Margaret so indignant and angry -that she said, with some heat:</p> - -<p>“We are playing a farce, Alan, and it had -better come to an end. I am perfectly willing -to accord you all the credit you deserve. You -are a charming man of the world,” she added, -falling into a lighter tone, “and I admire your -manners immensely. I am perfectly willing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>[269]</span> -to continue to be on good terms with you, -but there must be certain limitations to our -friendship. I could not consent to a return -to the old intimacy, and you must not expect -it.”</p> - -<p>“But why?” he said, urgently. “I insist -that you tell me. Margaret, remember how -important this is to me; remember how I -love you!”</p> - -<p>And in a certain way his words were true. -He felt himself, at this moment, really in love. -Now that he found himself likely to lose her, -this handsome, spirited, honest-hearted girl, -grew inestimably more dear to him. He longed -to be able to control her—to settle it, then and -there, that she was to be his own. So it was -with the fire of real feeling in his eyes that he -drew nearer and eagerly sought her averted -gaze, and even ventured to take her hand. -But the moment she met that look, and felt -that touch, Margaret sprang to her feet and -half involuntarily took her position behind a -large chair, where she stood, resting upon its<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>[270]</span> -high back and looking at him with an expression -of defiant scorn.</p> - -<p>“Margaret,” he said, rising too, and bending -upon her again that eager look that galled her -so, “do you shrink from my mere look and -touch? There must be a reason for your -manner, and that reason I must and will -know.”</p> - -<p>“You shall!” she answered, excitedly, unable -to bear his tone of injured superiority any -longer. “I witnessed a scene between you and -Mrs. Vere in the conservatory at the ball that -night, that made me despise you. It revealed -your true nature to me, at a glance, and I am -glad of it. I should not have spoken of it. I -could have managed to hold my peace and -meet you calmly as a casual acquaintance; but -that you would not have. But when you presume -to offer me what you are pleased to call -your devotion, with the memory of that scene -in my mind, I can be silent no longer. And -now,” she went on, after an instant’s pause, “I -have spoken, and we understand each other.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>[271]</span> -Let the whole subject be dropped just here, -forever.”</p> - -<p>She had avoided looking at him, as she -spoke, and even now she hesitated to meet his -eyes. There was a moment’s deep stillness, -and then, to the relief of both, Cousin Eugenia’s -silken robes were heard sweeping -down the staircase.</p> - -<p>She entered, and the room’s whole atmosphere -changed. Her graceful toilet, well-turned -phrases and studious correctness of demeanor, -recalled the usages of the world in -which they lived, and Margaret and Decourcy -resumed their seats and began to talk of snow-storms -and sleigh-rides, following Cousin Eugenia’s -lead.</p> - -<p>When Margaret presently glanced at Mr. -Decourcy, she saw that he was very pale, but -that was all. He had never been more self-possessed.</p> - -<p>When he rose to go, Mrs. Gaston, seeing that -something was amiss, discreetly walked over -to the window for a moment, and Decourcy,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>[272]</span> -taking a step toward Margaret, said in a low -tone:</p> - -<p>“You have been very hard to me, Margaret, -and have judged me hastily. The time may -come when you will see that it is so, and for -that time I shall wait.”</p> - -<p>He said good-bye then, without offering his -hand, and Margaret, to her amazement, found -herself feeling like a culprit. There was such -an air of gentle magnanimousness about Mr. -Decourcy, that it made her feel quite contrite. -In exciting which sensation Mr. Decourcy had -obtained exactly the result he had aimed at.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>[273]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIX.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap">IT was two evenings prior to the day fixed for -Miss Trevennon’s return to her home. January, -with its multifarious engagements, had -passed, and February was well advanced. It -had been a very happy time to Margaret, and, -now that her visit was almost at an end, she -found herself much prone to reverie, and constantly -falling into quiet fits of musing. There -was much pleasant food for thought in looking -back, but an instinct constantly warned her -against looking forward.</p> - -<p>On this particular evening, Miss Trevennon -and Louis Gaston were alone. Cousin Eugenia -had gone to her room, and General Gaston was -out. Margaret had observed that she quite -often found herself alone with Mr. Gaston -lately, and she even fancied sometimes that -Cousin Eugenia contrived to have it so. She -smiled to think of the multiplicity of Cousin<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>[274]</span> -Eugenia’s little manœuvres, and the book she -had been reading fell to her lap. She glanced -toward Louis, sitting some little distance off -at the other side of the fire-place; but he was -quite lost to view behind the opened sheet of -the <i>Evening Star</i>. So Miss Trevennon fixed her -eyes on the fire, and fell into a fit of musing.</p> - -<p>She was looking her best to-night. There -had been guests at dinner, and she was dressed -accordingly. Black suited her better than -anything else, and the costume of black silk -and lace which she wore now was exquisitely -becoming. Her rounded, slender arms were -bare, and a snowy patch of her lovely neck was -visible above the lace of her square corsage. -Her long black draperies fell richly away to -one side, over the Turkey rug, and as she -rested lightly on the angle of her little high -heel, with one foot, in its dainty casing of -black silk stocking and low-cut slipper, lightly -laid across the other, her graceful, easy attitude -and elegant toilet made her a striking figure, -apart from the distinguished beauty of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>[275]</span> -her face. Louis Gaston, who had noiselessly -lowered his paper, took in every detail of face, -figure, attitude and costume, with a sense of -keen appreciation, and, as he continued to -look, a sudden smile of merriment curved his -lips. Miss Trevennon, looking up, met this -smile, and smiled in answer to it.</p> - -<p>“What is it?” she said. “What were you -thinking of?”</p> - -<p>“May I tell you?” he asked, still smiling.</p> - -<p>“Yes; please do.”</p> - -<p>“I was recalling the fact that, when you first -arrived—before I had seen you—I used to -speak of you to Eugenia as ‘The Importation.’ -It is no wonder that I smile now at -the remembrance.”</p> - -<p>“It was very impertinent, undoubtedly,” -said Margaret; “but I won’t refuse to forgive -you, if you, in your turn, will agree to forgive -me my impertinences, which have been -many.”</p> - -<p>“It would be necessary to recall them first,” -he said, “and that I am unable to do.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>[276]</span>“I have been dictatorial and critical and -aggressive, and I have had no right to be any -of these. I have magnified my own people persistently, -in talking to you, and depreciated -yours. You mustn’t take me as a specimen of -Southern courtesy. Wait till you see my -father. I’m a degenerate daughter.”</p> - -<p>“I hope I may see him some time. Knowing -you has made me wish to know your people -better. If I ask you, some day, to let me -come and make their acquaintance, what will -you say?”</p> - -<p>“Come, and welcome,” said Margaret, heartily; -and then, as a consciousness of the warmth -of her tone dawned upon her, she added: -“We are a hospitable race, you know, and -hold it a sacred duty to entertain strangers. -But I fear you would find us disappointing in -a great many ways. In so many points, and -these very essential ones, we are inferior to -you. If only we could both get rid of our -prejudices! Just think what a people we -might be, if we were kneaded together, each<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>[277]</span> -willing to assimilate what is best in the other! -But I suppose that is a Utopian dream. As -far as my small observation goes, it seems to -me that we in the South see things on a -broader basis, and that a gentleman’s claim to -meet another gentleman on equal terms rests -upon something higher and stronger than trifling -technicalities such as using printed visiting-cards, -or calling a dress-coat ‘a swallow-tail,’ -for instance!” she said, with twinkling -eyes. “I know you’ve had those two scores -against my compatriots on your mind. Now, -haven’t you?”</p> - -<p>“I will wipe them off instantly, if I have,” -he said, laughing. “I feel amiably disposed -to-night. I think it is the prospect of your -departure that has softened me. I hope you -are one little bit sorry to leave us. It would -be but a small return for the colossal regret -we feel at parting from you.”</p> - -<p>“I am sorry,” she said, with her eyes fixed -on the fire—“very, very sorry.”</p> - -<p>“Really?” he said quickly, not daring to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>[278]</span> -give voice to the delight with which her fervently -uttered admission filled him.</p> - -<p>“Yes, really. You have all been so good to -me. I think General Gaston has even decided -to forgive me for being a Southerner, since I -could not possibly help it, which is a higher -tribute than the regard of Cousin Eugenia and -yourself, perhaps, as you had no prejudices to -overcome.”</p> - -<p>“You have paid me the greatest possible -compliment,” said Louis. “I would rather -you should say that than anything, almost. -You must admit, however, that at one time you -would not have said it.”</p> - -<p>“That is quite true; but I think now that -I did you injustice.”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t think you did. It was true at -one time that I was very prejudiced, and to a -certain extent it is true yet; but you’ve worked -wonders with me, Miss Trevennon. I do think -I see things more fairly than I did. I had a -great deal of hereditary and inherent prejudice -to overcome, and I think I have got rid of a good<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>[279]</span> -portion of it, thanks to you! Who knows but, -if you could have kept me near you, you might -have reformed me yet? Of course, I should -not venture to criticise a decision of yours, but -when Eugenia urged you so, the other day, to -stay a month longer, do you know, I almost held -my breath to hear what you would say? And -your positive refusal quite cut me. It’s rather -hard on a man, to learn that his education is -to be cut short at one fell blow like that; and -I am in horrible fear of retrogression.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t laugh at me, Mr. Gaston,” said -Margaret, rather confusedly. “I am afraid I -must often have seemed to you conceited and -pert. I believe I am, a little. Even my dear -father tells me so, now and then.”</p> - -<p>“How you love your home and your parents!” -said Louis, looking at her very gently. -“I have so often observed it. Is it a provincial -trait? I never saw a stronger feeling than the -one you have for your household gods.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I do love them,” Margaret said; “and -I can give no stronger proof of it than that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>[280]</span> -Cousin Eugenia’s invitation does not tempt me -to remain longer away from them.”</p> - -<p>“And do they love you very much—or not?” -he asked, looking into her face and smiling -brightly.</p> - -<p>“Oh yes,” she answered, smiling too; “as if -I were perfection.”</p> - -<p>“I almost think you are,” he replied. “I -said to myself, from the first, ‘She is well-named -Margaret, for she’s just a pearl.’”</p> - -<p>Simply and quietly as he said it, there was -something in his tone that thrilled her with a -sudden emotion. She dared not raise her eyes -to his, and so she turned away her flushed face -as she answered, with an effort to speak as -usual:</p> - -<p>“I am named for my mother. Papa calls me -Daisy, to distinguish us.”</p> - -<p>“I think that suits you almost as well,” he -said. “Your feelings are so fresh—not a whiff -of their perfume brushed away yet. What a -thing it would be for one of the careworn, -weary worldlings one meets every day, to have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>[281]</span> -your heart in her bosom for just one hour! -And oh, what a revelation of falseness and hollowness -and envy it would be to you to see into -a heart like that! God protect you from it, -Margaret! I am almost glad that you are going -back to that quiet old country-place. It -gives me a pang merely to think of the possibility -of your being contaminated by the world. -I could not bear to face the thought that the -pearl might lose its pureness and the daisy -wither. I have tried that no one shall suspect -the fact, but you don’t know how I have -watched over you. It was presumptuous of -me, perhaps, but now that you know it, do you -forgive me?”</p> - -<p>Poor Margaret! She made a brave struggle -for self-mastery, but it was only half successful. -Apart from his words, there was something -in his looks and tones that made what he -had said a revelation to her. There could be -but one meaning in those fervent, tender eyes, -and the sound of the caressing voice.</p> - -<p>“You once refused to shake hands with me,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>[282]</span> -Louis went on, presently. “Do you remember? -I was in disgrace then, but I can’t help -hoping I’m restored. Will you give me your -hand now, in token of full pardon for the -past?”</p> - -<p>He had taken a seat very near to her, and -when he extended his hand she laid hers in -it, without moving from her place. He held it -close, for an instant, and then, stooping, laid -his lips upon it.</p> - -<p>Margaret suffered the caress in silence. -She felt nerveless and irresponsible, but her -whole nature responded to these signs of tenderness -from him. She knew his heart was -seeking hers, which was ready to answer, at a -touch. She felt confused and tremulous, but -very happy and contented and safe, and when -she presently withdrew her hand from Louis’, -she gave him, in its stead, a look of the deepest -confidence and kindness.</p> - -<p>“There is something I want to tell you, -Margaret——” he began, and while she was almost -holding her breath to listen, the sound of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>[283]</span> -General Gaston’s key was heard in the lock, -and, with a quick motion, they moved apart.</p> - -<p>As Louis stood up and turned to meet his -brother, Margaret sank back in her seat with -a quick sigh. The interruption was almost a -relief. The sharp strain of this new-born hope -and doubt and wonder was a pain to her, and -she was glad to wait. The joy that had been -thus held out to her was still to be secured, and -she felt a happy safety in the bright future -before her.</p> - -<p>As for Louis, his pulses thrilled with triumphant -hope. All his doubts and misgivings -melted like snow beneath the sweet, confiding -looks and tones that Margaret had vouchsafed -to him this evening. He forgot Charley Somers -and all his old mistrust concerning him, -and felt happy in the present and almost secure -of the future. His ardent blood was -stirred as it had never been before. If Mrs. -Gaston could have looked into his heart to-night, -she could never again have called him -cold and unemotional!</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>[284]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XX.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="drop-cap2">AMES & Gaston had been awarded the -designs for some important buildings, to -be erected at a distance of a few miles from -Washington, and it was in connection with -this matter that Louis Gaston, the morning -after the interview with Miss Trevennon, just -recorded, stepped into a street-car which was -to take him within a short distance of the site -of these buildings.</p> - -<p>As he glanced around on entering, he met the -smiling and enticing gaze of Mrs. Vere. There -was a vacant seat beside her, but he did not -choose to take it. His mind, since last night’s -episode, had been full of memories and anticipations -with which the very thought of Mrs. -Vere was discordant. So he merely raised his -hat, in answer to her greeting, and seated himself -at some distance from her, near the door, -turning his face to the window. But, as the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>[285]</span> -car went on toward the suburbs, the passengers -gradually departed, and he presently became -aware of the fact that only Mrs. Vere and -himself remained. Even then his aversion to -an interview with her, in his present mood, -was so strong that he kept his place, choosing -to ignore the fact of their being left alone together. -In a very few minutes, however, Mrs. -Vere crossed to his side, saying, with an airy -little laugh:</p> - -<p>“As the mountain won’t come to Mahomet——”</p> - -<p>Louis, of course, turned at once and resigned -himself to the inevitable interview.</p> - -<p>“To what fortunate circumstance am I to -attribute the honor of Mrs. Vere’s society, so -far outside the pale of civilization?” he said, -adopting the bantering tone he usually made -use of in talking to Mrs. Vere, in order to veil -his real feeling.</p> - -<p>“I am going out to see the Temples,” she -replied; “I shall have to walk from the terminus. -It’s such a nuisance having no carriage,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>[286]</span> -and I’m sure I think I deserve one—don’t -you? But what brings you out so far -during business hours?”</p> - -<p>“Business,” answered Gaston. “I am -going to spy out the land for a new building -enterprise.”</p> - -<p>“What sort of building enterprise? I -should say a charming cottage, suitable for a -pair of domestic neophytes, designed by the -architect for his own occupancy, if it were not -that a dishevelled young Southerner, with an -eccentric tailor and a beautiful voice, stands in -the way of that idea! I’m afraid Miss Trevennon, -for all her gentleness, must be rather -cruel; for, judging by superficial evidences, -she has beguiled the wary Mr. Gaston to the -point of a futile hankering after Mr. Somers’ -place. I suppose she has had the conscience -to tell you she’s engaged.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Trevennon?” said Louis, meeting her -searching gaze without flinching, though his -heart gave a great leap and then seemed to -stand still. “She has not made me her confidant<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>[287]</span> -as to her matrimonial intentions; but if -what you say is true, young Somers is a man I -well might envy, whether I do or not.”</p> - -<p>He hated the idea of seeming to discuss -Margaret with this woman, and yet he was -burning to hear more. He asked no questions, -feeling sure that he could become possessed of -whatever information Mrs. Vere had, without -that concession on his part.</p> - -<p>“Oh, there’s no doubt about its being true,” -went on Mrs. Vere. “I happen to know the -Welfords, the people Mr. Somers stayed with, -very well. Mrs. Welford told me all about it. It -seems this young fellow is troubled with a certain -degree of impecuniosity, and he had received -an offer from some people in South -America to come out and join them in some -business enterprise, and so he came on at -once to consult Miss Trevennon; and it was -agreed between them that he should go. The -plan is that he is to return a millionnaire and -marry her. I wonder she hasn’t told you.”</p> - -<p>“Why should she? Ladies are apt to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>[288]</span> -reserved about such matters, however garrulous -a man may think proper to be, and Mr. -Somers, for one, seems to have been sufficiently -communicative.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I suppose he only told Mrs. Welford, -and she only told me. You must consider it -confidential.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” replied Louis; “but here is the -terminus, and we must abandon our equipage.”</p> - -<p>He walked with her as far as the Temples’ -place, which was a very short distance off, and -then he bowed and left her with unbroken -serenity.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Vere was a woman who, in point of fact, -was by no means incapable of deep duplicity, -but in the present instance she had been guilty -only of stating as facts what Mrs. Welford had -told her more in the form of conjectures. She -had happened to meet Somers at this friend’s -house one evening, and had introduced the -topic of Miss Trevennon, adroitly plying the -young man with questions, and had satisfied -herself that he was certainly in love with and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>[289]</span> -probably engaged to her. On this basis she -and Mrs. Welford had constructed the story -which she told with such confidence to Gaston.</p> - -<p>As for Louis, he made but little headway -with his estimates and prospecting that morning. -His first impulse had been to disbelieve -this story, and the remembrance of Margaret’s -looks and tones as he had talked with her last -night made it seem almost incredible. But -then, as he looked back into the past, he -recalled the incident of the pressed flower, and -the emotion Margaret had shown on hearing -Mr. Somers sing that Christmas night, and the -long interview that followed next morning, -and, more than all, the traces of tears he had -afterward detected; and, as he thought of all -these things, his heart grew very heavy.</p> - -<p>He soon resolved that he would go at once -to Margaret, and learn the truth from her own -lips.</p> - -<p>When he reached the house, he found -Thomas engaged in polishing the brasses of -the front door, which stood partly open. Being<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>[290]</span> -informed by him that Miss Trevennon was -in the drawing-room alone, he stepped softly -over the carpeted hall and entered the library. -From there he could see Margaret, seated on a -low ottoman before the fire, her hands clasped -around her knees, and her eyes fixed meditatively -upon the glowing coals. How his young -blood leaped at the sight of her! How lovely -and gentle she looked! Was she not the very -joy of his heart, and delight of his eyes? -Where was another like her?</p> - -<p>He stood a moment silently observing her, -and then he cautiously drew nearer, treading -with great care, and shielding himself behind a -large screen that stood at one side of the fire-place. -In this way he was able to come very -near without having his approach suspected. -He meant to get very close and then to speak -her name, and see if he could call up again the -sweet, almost tender regard with which she had -looked at him last night. Somehow, he felt -sure that he should see that look again. He -had half forgotten Charley Somers and Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>[291]</span> -Vere. He kept his position in silence a moment. -It was a joy just to feel himself near -her, and to know that by just putting out his -hand he might touch her. His eager gaze -was fixed upon her fair, sweet profile, and -sought the lovely eyes which were still gazing -into the fire. He could see their musing, -wistful look, and, as he began to wonder what -it meant, those gentle eyes became suffused -with tears. He saw them rise and fill and -overflow the trembling lids, and fall upon a -letter in her lap. At sight of that letter his -heart contracted, and a sudden pallor over-spread -his face. He had been so uncontrollably -drawn to her that, in another moment, the -burning words of love must have been spoken, -and the eager arms outstretched to clasp her -to his heart. But this letter was in a man’s -handwriting, and his keen eyes detected the -South American stamp on the envelope. His -blood seemed to congeal within him, and his -face grew hard and cold.</p> - -<p>He stepped backward, with an effort to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292"></a>[292]</span> -escape, but his wits seemed to have deserted -him; he stumbled against a chair, and, at the -sound, Margaret looked up. Oh, <i>why</i> were -his eyes so blindly turned away from her? -<i>Why</i> did he not see that ardent, happy look -with which she recognized him? Surely it -was all and more than memory pictured it! -Surely then he must have known, beyond a -doubt, that her whole heart bade him welcome!</p> - -<p>But he would not look at her. He turned to -make his way out, as he had come, pausing -merely to ask, with resolutely averted eyes:</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, but can you tell me where Eugenia -is?”</p> - -<p>“In her dressing-room, I think,” said Margaret, -in a voice that, in spite of her, was -husky.</p> - -<p>“I want to speak to her,” he said, and, without -another word or look, he walked away.</p> - -<p>Poor Margaret! Her heart was sore and -troubled at the sad words of Charley Somers’ -note. In her own state of happiness and hope, -they struck her as a thousand times more<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293"></a>[293]</span> -touching. She felt restless and uneasy, and -she would have given much for some slight -sign of protecting care and tenderness from -Louis. She was ready to relinquish everything -for him. She knew that he could make up to -her for the loss of all else; but although he -must have seen that she was troubled, he could -bear to leave her with that air of cold composure! -A dreadful doubt and uncertainty seized -upon her, and she went to her room feeling -lonely and dispirited.</p> - -<p>There was to be a large ball that night, and -it was not until Margaret came down to dinner, -and observed that Mr. Gaston’s place was vacant, -that she learned from Cousin Eugenia -that he had excused himself from both dinner -and the ball. She did not ask for any explanation, -and Mrs. Gaston only said that she -supposed he had work to finish. No one took -any special heed of his absence, but Margaret -remembered that it was her last dinner -with them, and felt hurt that he should -have absented himself; the ball was suddenly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294"></a>[294]</span> -bereft of all its delight. She knew there was -something wrong, and her heart sank at the -thought that there might be no opportunity -for explanation between them. But then she -remembered the unfinished sentence that General -Gaston’s entrance had interrupted the -night before, and she felt sure that all must -come right in the end.</p> - -<p>Animated by this strong conviction, and remembering -that she would not leave until late -in the afternoon of the next day, she dressed -for the ball in a beautiful toilet of Cousin Eugenia’s -contriving, composed of white silk and -swan’s-down, resolved to throw off these fancied -doubts and misgivings as far as possible. In -spite of all, however—though Cousin Eugenia -went into ecstacies over her appearance, and -she had more suitors for her notice than she -could have remembered afterward—the evening -was long and wearisome to her, and she was -glad when Cousin Eugenia came to carry her -off rather early, in anticipation of the fatigues -of the next day.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295"></a>[295]</span>When they reached home there was a bright -light in the library, and Louis was sitting at -the table writing.</p> - -<p>“Is that you, Louis?” said Mrs. Gaston, -calling to him from the hall: “Margaret must -give you an account of the ball, for I am too -utterly worn out. Go, Margaret—and lest you -should not mention it, I’ll preface your account -by saying that Miss Trevennon was, by all -odds, the beauty and belle of the occasion.”</p> - -<p>With these words she vanished up the staircase, -whither her husband had preceded her.</p> - -<p>Half glad and half timid, Margaret advanced -toward the centre of the room, and when Louis -stood up to receive her, she could not help -observing how careworn and grave he looked. -There was a troubled expression in his face that -touched her very much. Something had happened -since last night. She felt more than ever -sure of it; and it was something that had -stirred him deeply.</p> - -<p>“I am glad the last ball was such a successful -one,” he said, placing a chair for her, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296"></a>[296]</span> -then, going over to the mantel, he stood and -faced her.</p> - -<p>“It was a beautiful ball,” said Margaret; -“the rooms were exquisite.”</p> - -<p>“Were they supplied with mirrors?” he -asked, folding his arms as he looked down -at her, steadily.</p> - -<p>“Mirrors? Oh yes; there were plenty of -mirrors.”</p> - -<p>“And did you make use of them, I wonder, -Miss Trevennon? Do you know just how you -look, in that beautiful soft gown, with the -lovely white fur around your neck and arms? -I should fancy it might tempt one to the mermaid -fashion of carrying a mirror at the -girdle.”</p> - -<p>He smiled as he spoke—a resolute, odd -smile that had little merriment in it.</p> - -<p>“What have you been doing, all this time?” -she asked, wishing to lead the conversation -away from herself.</p> - -<p>“Working,” he answered; “writing letters—doing -sums—drawing plans.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_297"></a>[297]</span>“How you love your work!” she said.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I love my work, thank God!” he answered, -in a fervid tone. “It has been my -best friend all my life, and all my dreams for -the future are in it now.”</p> - -<p>“You love it almost too much, I think. It -takes you away from everything else. Do you -mean to work in this way always? Have you -no other visions of the future?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I have had visions!” he said, thrusting -his hands into the pockets of his sack-coat, -and bracing himself against the end of -the mantel, while he looked at her steadily as -he spoke. “I have had visions—plenty of -them! They mostly took the form of very -simple, quiet dreams of life; for I have already -told you, Miss Trevennon, by what a very -demon of domesticity I am haunted. The -sweetest of all thoughts to me is that of home—a -quiet life, with a dear companion—that -would be my happiness. Exterior things -would be very unimportant.”</p> - -<p>He seemed to rouse himself, as if from some<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_298"></a>[298]</span> -sort of lethargy which he dreaded, and, standing -upright, he folded his arms across his -breast, and went on:</p> - -<p>“But if I had this vision once, I have put it -from me now, and only the old routine remains—business -and reading and a half-hearted interest -in society. There is music, but that I -mistrust; it brings the old visions back, and -shows me the loneliness of a life in which they -can have no part. So it is no wonder, is it, -that I call my work my best friend?”</p> - -<p>Poor, poor Margaret! Her heart sank -lower and lower, and when he finished with -this calmly uttered question, a little shudder -ran through her.</p> - -<p>“I am cold,” she said, rising; “I must go.”</p> - -<p>He went and brought her white wrap from -where she had thrown it on a chair, and with -one of his peculiarly protecting motions he -threw it around her. Then, gathering the soft -folds in his hands on each side, he drew them -close across her breast, and held them so a -moment, as he said:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_299"></a>[299]</span>“Yes, Margaret, you must go. And it is not -for the night, nor for the season, nor even for -the year; it is forever. What would you say -to me, if you knew we were never to see each -other again?”</p> - -<p>“Most likely we never shall,” she said, -speaking in a cold, vacant way.</p> - -<p>“And what will you say to me? What will -you give me to remember?”</p> - -<p>“I can only say good-bye,” she answered in -the same dull tone.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, then, Margaret. Good-bye, -good-bye, good-bye; and may God Almighty -bless you,” he said, and she felt the hands that -rested against hers trembling. He looked long -and searchingly into her face, with a scrutinizing -steady gaze, as if he would photograph upon -his mind its every line and feature. And then -the light folds of her wrap were loosened, his -hands fell heavily to his side, and he stepped -back from her.</p> - -<p>Like a woman walking in her sleep she -passed him, her long draperies trailing heavily<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_300"></a>[300]</span> -after her as she crossed the hall and began to -ascend the stairs. Her step was heavy and -she moved slowly, and Louis, watching her -from below with eyes that were wild with longing -and lips that were stern with repression, -held his breath in passionate expectation that, -as she turned at the bend of the stairs, she -might give him one last look. But her eyes, -as the sweet profile came in view, were looking -straight before her, and the tall white-clad -figure was almost out of sight when, without -willing it, without meaning it, absolutely without -knowing it, he arrested her by a hurried, -half-articulate call.</p> - -<p>“Margaret!” he cried, in a voice that seemed -not to be his own, so strange and altered was it.</p> - -<p>The weary figure paused, and she turned and -looked down at him. A little glimmer of the -bright joy, which had been so lately smothered -out of life, shot up in her heart as she heard him -call her name, but when she looked at him, it -died. He was standing with his arms folded -tightly together, and a look of the most rigid<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_301"></a>[301]</span> -self-control in his whole aspect. A man that -loved her could never look at her like that, she -thought, and she felt at that instant, more than -ever, that she had deceived herself. Complete -weariness seemed to master her. Her chief -feeling was that she was tired to death. What -was the use of going back?</p> - -<p>“I have something to say to you,” said -Louis, in a voice that was colder than it had -been yet. “Come back, for a moment only.”</p> - -<p>She was very weak, and it seemed easier to -comply than to refuse; so, very silently and -slowly, Margaret retraced her steps.</p> - -<p>As the beautiful white vision drew nearer, -step by step, the young man’s whole heart and -soul went out to meet her, but at the same -moment his physical frame retreated, and he -withdrew into the room before her, conscious -only that he still held possession of himself, and -that the spirit within him was still master of -the body. Long habit had accustomed him to -frequent renunciation. All these years he had -been resisting and overcoming, in smaller<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_302"></a>[302]</span> -things, with the conscious knowledge that he -was thereby acquiring power which would -enable him to conquer when greater temptations -should come. And now he knew that his -mightiest temptation was hard upon him.</p> - -<p>He pressed his arms tighter together across -his breast, set his lips and held his breath, as -his temptation, clad in a wondrous long white -garment, wafting a sweet fragrance and waking -a murmuring silken sound, came near to him, -and passed him by.</p> - -<p>When Margaret had actually moved away -from him, and thrown herself weakly into a -low, deep chair, and he realized that his arms -were still folded, his lips still set, he drew -in his breath, with a long respiration that -seemed to draw into his heart a mortal pain; -and he knew that his practice had stood him in -good stead, and that his strength had proved -sufficient in his hour of need.</p> - -<p>It would have been only for a moment. All -he wanted was to take her in his arms an -instant, and kiss her just once, and then he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_303"></a>[303]</span> -could have let her go forever, and counted himself -a happy man to have lived that moment’s -life. That was all; but that he felt himself in -honor bound to renounce, because he believed -her to be pledged to another man. And he -had accomplished the renunciation; but now -that this was so, he felt an impatient rebellion -against further discipline. The resistless torrent -of his love and despair rushed over him, -and nothing should keep him from speaking! -Words could do her no harm, and there were -words that burnt upon his lips, whose utterance -alone, it seemed to him, could keep his -brain from bursting.</p> - -<p>He opened his lips to speak, but the words -refused to come. There was a spell in the -silence that he felt powerless to break. The -room was absolutely free from either sound or -motion. Margaret had dropped her weary -body sideways in the cushioned chair, with her -long white robe sweeping behind her, and her -face turned from him, so that only her profile -was in view.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_304"></a>[304]</span>The young man stood and looked at her, -possessed by the sense of her nearness, enthralled -by the spell of her beauty. He could -see the rise and fall of her bosom under its covering -of silk and fur, and there was a dejectedness -in her attitude that made a passionate appeal -to his tenderness. She was very pale, and -her lowered lids and a little drooping at the -corners of her mouth gave her lovely face a -most plaintive look. She was tired too; the -inertness of the pliant figure, with the motionless -bare arms and relaxed, half-open hands, -showed that plainly enough. Fragile and -slight and weary as she was, how could she -endure the battle of life alone, and who, of all -men in the world, could strive and struggle -for her as he could? The thought of her -woman’s weakness was a keen delight to him -at that moment. He had never felt himself -so strong. With a quick motion that -emphasized his thought, without interrupting -the stillness, he threw out his right arm -and clinched his hand with a conscious pleasure<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_305"></a>[305]</span> -in his strength. Nerves and veins and -muscles seemed to tingle with sentient animal -force.</p> - -<p>All these excited thoughts passed through -his brain with lightning-like swiftness, but -now, at last, the silence was broken by a -sound. It was a very gentle one—a short, -faint sigh from Margaret; but its effect was -powerful. It roused the young man from his -absorption and recalled him to reality.</p> - -<p>He sat down a little space away from her, -and with his fervid eyes fixed on her pale profile -and lowered lids, began to speak.</p> - -<p>“It was an impulse, not a deliberate purpose, -that made me call you back,” he said. “I -should perhaps have done better to let you go, -but I did not, and now you are here, and I am -here, and we are alone in the stillness together, -Margaret, and you will have to listen to what I -have to say. I think you must know what it -is. My efforts to keep the truth out of my -eyes when I looked at you, and out of my voice -when I spoke to you, have seemed to me miserable<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_306"></a>[306]</span> -failures many a time, and I dare say you -have known it all along.”</p> - -<p>He paused a moment, still looking at her. -There was not a quiver in the still face pressed -against the cushions, but at his last words the -beautiful arm was uplifted and laid against her -cheek, hiding her face from view, as the slim -hand closed upon the top of the chair, above -her head. It was an attitude full of grace. -The white wrap had fallen back, leaving bare -the lovely arms and shoulders, and revealing -perfectly the symmetry of the rounded figure. -Although the face was hidden, he could see -every exquisite line and tint of it, in his mind’s -eye, almost as plainly as he saw, with his actual -vision, the soft masses of hair drawn back from -the little shell-like ear, and the portion of white -cheek and throat which her screening arm did -not conceal.</p> - -<p>In spite of strong repression, the hot blood -overflowed the young man’s bounding heart and -sent a glow of dark color surging over his face. -Something—a little fluttered movement of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_307"></a>[307]</span> -breast—revealed to his confused consciousness -that Margaret herself was not unmoved. He -rose and advanced toward her.</p> - -<p>“You know it,” he said; “but let me put into -words the sweet, despairing truth. I love you, -Margaret. Oh, good and beautiful and true -and sweet, how could I choose but love you!”</p> - -<p>He dropped upon his knees before her, and -in this low position he could see her lovely, -tremulous lips. At something in their expression -a sudden little flame of hope shot up in -his heart.</p> - -<p>“Margaret,” he said, in a deep, commanding -tone that was almost stern, while all the time -his hands were clinched together, so that he -touched not so much as the hem of her dress—“Margaret, -look at me. Let me see straight -into your eyes.”</p> - -<p>There was no disobeying that tone, which -he now used to her for the first time. She felt -herself mastered by it, and, lowering her arm, -she showed to him her loving eyes, her trembling lips, -her entranced and radiant face.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_308"></a>[308]</span> -Instantly his arms were around her, his lips to -hers, in an embrace so tender, a kiss so sweet, -as can come only in that rare union of freshness -and completeness for which all the past -lives of these two young souls had been a -preparation.</p> - -<p>“You were wrong. I did <i>not</i> know,” she -said, presently, breaking the long silence and -murmuring the words very softly in his -ear.</p> - -<p>“Then you have been dull and blind and deaf, -my darling, my darling, my darling!” he said, -lingering caressingly upon the repetition of the -poor little word, which is the best we have to -convey the tenderest message of our hearts. -“Do you know it now, or do you need to have -it proved to you still further? Let me look at -you.”</p> - -<p>But she would not lift her head from its safe -and happy resting-place, and her eyes refused -to meet his until he said again:</p> - -<p>“Margaret,” in that stern, sweet voice which -thrilled and conquered her; and then she lifted<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_309"></a>[309]</span> -up her eyes, and fixed them with a fervent gaze -on his.</p> - -<p>“God help me to deserve you, Margaret, my -saint,” he murmured, as he met that look of -lovely exaltation. “It hurts me that you have -to stoop so far.”</p> - -<p>“I do not stoop,” she answered. “You have -pointed me to heights I never dreamed of. We -will try to reach them together.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Later, when their long talk, including the -short explanation of their misunderstanding, -was over, and they were parting for the night, -with the blessed consciousness that they would -meet to-morrow in the same sweet companionship—with -the thought in the mind of each -that the future was to be always together, -never apart, Louis went with her into the -hall, to watch her again as she ascended the -stairs.</p> - -<p>When she had gone but a few steps, she -paused, leaning over the banister:</p> - -<p>“Doesn’t it seem funny,” she said, the serious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_310"></a>[310]</span> -happiness her face had worn giving place -to a merry smile, “such a Yankee and such a -Rebel, as you and I! Let us set an example -of letting by-gones be by-gones, and shake -hands across the bloody chasm!”</p> - - -<p class="center">THE END.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">MRS. BURNETT’S<br /> -NOVELS AND STORIES</h2> -</div> - - - -<p class="center">“<i>Mrs. Burnett’s characters are as veritable as -Thackeray’s.</i>”—Richard Henry Stoddard.</p> - - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - - -<tr><td><b>A Lady of Quality</b></td><td class="tdr"> $1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>His Grace of Osmonde.</b> -Sequel to -“A Lady of Quality”</td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>That Lass o’ Lowrie’s.</b> -Illustrated</td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Haworth’s.</b> Illustrated</td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Through One Administration</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Louisiana</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>A Fair Barbarian</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Vagabondia.</b> A Love Story</td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Surly Tim, and Other Stories</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Earlier Stories.</b> <i>First and Second Series.</i> Each</td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The One I Knew the Best of All.</b> A Memory of the Mind of a Child. Illustrated</td><td class="tdr"> 2.00</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Pretty Sister of José.</b> Illustrated</td><td class="tdr"> 1.00</td></tr> - -</table> - - -<p class="ph2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Burnett’s Famous Juveniles</span></p> - -<p class="center">New Uniform Edition, each 12mo,<br /> -with illustrations by Birch, $1.25</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse"><b>Little Lord Fauntleroy.</b> Over 200,000 copies sold.</div> - -<div class="verse"><b>Two Little Pilgrims’ Progress.</b> A Story of the City -Beautiful.</div> - -<div class="verse"><b>Sara Crewe, Or, What Happened at Miss Minchin’s.</b></div> - -<div class="verse"><b>Little Saint Elizabeth, and Other Stories.</b></div> - -<div class="verse"><b>Piccino, and Other Child Stories.</b></div> - -<div class="verse"><b>Giovanni and the Other.</b> Children Who Have Made Stories.</div> -</div></div> - -<p class="center"><i>For sale by all booksellers; published by</i></p> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="large"><b>CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</b></span><br /> -<b>153-157 FIFTH AVENUE <span class="gap">NEW YORK</span></b></p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak"><span class="smcap">Stevenson’s Works</span></h2> -</div> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - - -<tr><td><b>Strange Case of Dr. -Jekyll and Mr. Hyde</b></td><td class="tdr"> $1.00</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Fables</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.00</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Vailima Letters.</b> -With Portrait. 2 vols.</td><td class="tdr"> 2.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Ebb-Tide</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Amateur Emigrant</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><i>The following 12mo volumes -in uniform binding</i>:</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>St. Ives.</b> The Adventures -of a French -Prisoner in England</td><td class="tdr"> $1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>In the South Seas.</b> -With Map</td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Weir of Hermiston</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Poems and Ballads.</b> -With Portrait</td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Kidnapped.</b> Being -Memoirs of the Adventures -of David -Balfour in the year -1751. 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STOCKTON’S<br /> -NOVELS AND STORIES</h2> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center">“<i>There is no more thoroughly entertaining writer -before the public to-day than Mr. Stockton.</i>”—<i>Boston</i> Globe.</p></div> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - - -<tr><td><b>The Girl at Cobhurst</b></td><td class="tdr"> $1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>A Story-teller’s -Pack.</b> Illustrated</td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Mrs. Cliff’s Yacht.</b> -Illustrated</td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Adventures of -Capt. Horn</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>A Chosen Few.</b> Short -Stories. <i>Cameo Edition.</i> -Portrait</td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Pomona’s Travels.</b> -Illustrated</td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Rudder Grange.</b> With -over 100 illustrations -by <span class="smcap">Frost</span></td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Watchmaker’s -Wife, and Other -Stories</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Late Mrs. Null</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Rudder Grange</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Rudder Grangers -Abroad, and -Other Stories</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Lady or the Tiger, -and Other Stories</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Christmas -Wreck, and Other -Stories</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Bee-Man of Orn, -and Other Fanciful -Tales</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Amos Kilbright: His -Adscititious Experiences.</b> -With other -Stories</td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Ardis Claverden</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Personally Conducted.</b> -Illustrated -by <span class="smcap">Pennell</span> and -others</td><td class="tdr"> 2.00</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Clocks of Rondaine, -and Other -Stories.</b> Illustrated</td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Floating Prince, -and Other Fairy -Tales.</b> Illustrated</td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Roundabout Rambles -in Lands of Fact -and Fancy.</b> Illustrated</td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Tales Out of School.</b> -300 illustrations</td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>A Jolly Fellowship.</b> -Illustrated</td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Story of Viteau.</b> -With illustrations by -<span class="smcap">Birch</span></td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Ting-a-Ling -Tales.</b> Illustrated</td><td class="tdr"> 1.00</td></tr> -</table> - - -<p class="center"><i>For sale by all booksellers; published by</i></p> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="large"><b>CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</b></span><br /> -<b>153-157 FIFTH AVENUE <span class="gap">NEW YORK</span></b></p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">...BY...<br /> -THOMAS NELSON PAGE</h2></div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center">“<i>Mr. Page’s heroines are so delightfully sweet -and attractive that no one can help falling in love -with them.</i>”—<i>Chicago</i> Times-Herald.</p></div> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - - -<tr><td><b>Red Rock.</b> A Chronicle of Reconstruction. 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Illustrated -by <span class="smcap">Smedley</span></td><td class="tdr"> 1.00</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Meh Lady.</b> A Story -of the War. Illustrated -by <span class="smcap">Reinhart</span></td><td class="tdr"> 1.00</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Polly.</b> A Christmas -Recollection. Illustrated -by <span class="smcap">Castaigne</span></td><td class="tdr"> 1.00</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Unc’ Edinburg.</b> A -Plantation Echo. Illustrated -by <span class="smcap">Clinedinst</span></td><td class="tdr"> 1.00</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>“Befo’ de War.”</b> -Echoes of Negro Dialect. -By <span class="smcap">A. C. Gordon</span> -and <span class="smcap">Thomas -Nelson Page</span></td><td class="tdr"> 1.00</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Among the Camps</b>, or -Young People’s Stories -of the War. Illustrated</td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Two Little Confederates.</b> -Illustrated</td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> -</table> - - -<p class="center"><i>For sale by all booksellers: published by</i></p> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="large"><b>CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</b></span><br /> -<b>153-157 FIFTH AVENUE <span class="gap">NEW YORK</span></b></p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">BOOKS BY<br /> -GEORGE W. CABLE</h2> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center">“<i>There are few living American writers who can -reproduce for us more perfectly than Mr. Cable -does, the speech, the manners, the whole social atmosphere -of a remote time and a peculiar people.</i>”—<i>New York</i> Tribune.</p></div> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - - -<tr><td><b>John March, Southerner</b></td><td class="tdr"> $1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Bonaventure.</b> A Prose Pastoral of Acadian Louisiana</td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Dr. Sevier</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Grandissimes.</b> A Story of Creole Life</td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Old Creole Days</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><i>A New Edition of Mr. Cable’s Romances comprising the -above 5 vols., printed on deckle-edge paper, gilt top, -and bound in sateen with full gilt design, now ready, -$1.50 per volume. The set in a box</i></td><td class="tdr"> 7.50</td></tr> - - - -<tr><td><b>Strong Hearts</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Strange True Stories of Louisiana.</b> With illustrations -and fac-simile reproductions</td><td class="tdr"> 1.25</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Madame Delphine</b></td><td class="tdr"> .75</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Creoles of Louisiana.</b> Illustrated from drawings -by <span class="smcap">Pennell</span></td><td class="tdr"> 2.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Silent South</b>, together with the Freedman’s -Case in Equity and the Convict Lease System. -<i>Revised and Enlarged Edition.</i> With portrait</td><td class="tdr"> 1.00</td></tr> -</table> - - -<p class="center"><i>For sale by all booksellers; published by</i></p> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="large"><b>CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</b></span><br /> -<b>153-157 FIFTH AVENUE <span class="gap">NEW YORK</span></b></p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak"><span class="smcap">Harold Frederic’s<br /> -Novels</span></h2> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center">“<i>The Scribners have in press a new uniform -edition of novels and short stories by Mr. Harold -Frederic. This is a well-deserved tribute to the -abilities of a writer whose worth was recognized by -discerning critics long before ‘The Damnation of -Theron Ware’ occasioned something of a furor.</i>”—<i>New York</i> Tribune.</p></div> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - - -<tr><td><b>In the Valley</b></td><td class="tdr"> $1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>Seth’s Brother’s Wife</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Lawton Girl</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>In the Sixties</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> - - - - -<tr><td class="tdc" colspan="2"><i>The above four volumes are issued in a handsome uniform binding, -gilt top, deckle edges, etc.</i></td></tr> - - -<tr><td><b>Marsena, and Other Stories</b> </td><td class="tdr"> $1.00</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>The Copperhead</b></td><td class="tdr"> 1.00</td></tr> - -<tr><td><b>In the Valley.</b> <i>Illustrated Edition.</i> With -16 full-page illustrations by <span class="smcap">Howard Pyle</span></td><td class="tdr"> 1.50</td></tr> -</table> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center">“<i>Mr. Frederic’s stories of the wartime (‘In the -Sixties’) are constructed thoughtfully and written -admirably. They are full of feeling.</i>”—<i>New York</i> Evening Post.</p></div> - - -<p class="center"><i>For sale by all booksellers; published by</i></p> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="large"><b>CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</b></span><br /> -<b>153-157 FIFTH AVENUE <span class="gap">NEW YORK</span></b></p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">FOOTNOTE:</h2> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[A]</a> Blanc-mange.</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="ph2">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> - - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Archaic or alternate spelling has been retained from the original.</p> -</div></div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Across The Chasm, by Julia Magruder - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE CHASM *** - -***** This file should be named 63250-h.htm or 63250-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/2/5/63250/ - -Produced by D A Alexander, David E. 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