The Darlington news. (Darlington, S.C.) 1875-1909, October 12, 1893, Image 3
CHAPTER fV.
The poet week bee been one of counsel
and uncertainty. 1 am always involved
at such times, but as a sower only, never
as a reaper. Everybody seems to think
that it is just as much my duty to pre
scribe tar perplexing circumstances as
for physical disorders. It is true they do
not think it necessary to accept my pre
scriptions unless with some such formula
as “Well, that is the conclusion I had ar
rived at myself.” But they would not
believe their ears if I were to turn the
tables upon them and consult them as to
what I had better do.
Mother bore down upon me the other
day in her line of battle ship manner.
you not to let them know it.”
“It is true we know comparatively lit
tle about her,” said mother after a pause.
“There is really nothing except my poor
brother’s letter and her own account
But it would be absurd to doubt either.
I should not think of such a thing.”
That is to say, she does think of it, but
could not draw me into either encourag
ing her suspicions or opposing them. As
a matter of fact 1 don't know that it
makes much difference whether Sinllre
be really what she porpbrts to be or not
She is a fine creature, capable of being
t the mother of a noble race. All the rest
is rather an object of curiosity than of
practical importance. But suppose it is
She is indeed an impressive and redoubt ! J ° hn ' 8 , fo * nne ** ^ * ftw
when she has got it to disappear? Well,
that would be John’s business. If he
couldn’t keep her, he wouldn’t deserve
her, for she has a heart for the man who
able old lady. My earliest recollections
of her are as a tall and slender person,
dressed generally in white, and with a
cool, polishedreather sarcastic manner.
She was not cool when she got angry,
however. How her cheeks would redden
has the stuff in him to win it
But if she be an adventuress
how
had one daughter at least Really there
is no reason for any misgiving—except
that she does seem to be withholding
something, and that she is so remarkably
handsome taople don’t expect to find
women like her among their own private
relatives. But let her become Mrs. John
Main waring by all means!
John came into my bedroom the next
morning while I was dressing. He is a
man whose body and unconscious move
ments speak more plainly than his tongue
can, especially when he has anything to
say. So as he forged about the room,
stared out of the window, took up The
Medical Record from the table and tossed
it down again. pulled a sprig from my
pot of heliotrope and crushed it between
his fingers, or laid hold of an Indian club
and swung it over his shoulder, I took it
as said that he had been making love to
Sinfire, and that she was still amusing
herself by parrying his attacks. Ho
doubt she found it good sport Wo
men are made that way, whether they
love the victim or not John wanted me
to begin the conversation, but I made
believe to be profoundly abstracted and
kept humming in a preoccupied way to
myself as I went on shaving.
“Strikes me ybu’re mighty particular
about your toilet for a man who doesn’t
go into society,” grumbled the heir of
Cedarcliffe at length. “Anybody would
would say you were in love I”
“It is the lovers who pay no attention
to such things,” I returned. "That is
what Shakespeare said, and he knew.
You are the one who wears the lover's
marks.”
“I? Who is there for me to be in love
with?” asked transparent John.
“Well, that is your affair. But if I
were you I think I should be in love with
Cousin Sinfire for lack of something bet
ter.’
“Something better!” he called out.
“I’d like to know where in this world
you could find anybody better than she
is!”
“Well,” said I, wiping my rasor and
going to the washstand, “if you think
her the right sort, she is the right sort—
for youP
. “It isn't what I think; it’s what she
thinks,” he replied.
“Don’t yon know?"
“No."
“Then why don’t you ask her?"
“I don’t know that either. I can’t ask
her. I try, but she prevents me.”
and her eyes fiaah, and what sharp things , c f m ® J she ^connection with my late Un-
would issue from her sharpest °te Edward? There is no doubt that he
These outbursts used to frighten me
thoroughly, and yet I often deliberately
provoked them because they convinced
me that my mother was a human being
after all How imperic ia and impetuous
she was! John is her own son. But she
was less generous in imparting her brains
to her firstborn—he never had half her
mental resources. She used to read many
abstruse and improving books in the old
days, and she could talk politics or phi
losophy or religion with anybody, though
I doubt whether she was ever more reli
gious than the proprieties of her position
required.
Of late years she has eschewed the
higher walks of literature and has aban
doned herself to novels, and even in her
choice of these she has gradually subsid
ed from the classic lucubrations of Wal
ter Scott to such humble wayside flow
ers as are to be culled from the Seaside
libraries, varied occasionally with an
odd volume from the Parisian publica
tions of Calmann, Levy & Cie. For my
part, so far fro'n blaming her, I applaud
her good sense. An amusing novel is
like the best kind of gossip. Gossip is
proper to those whose days of youth and
activity are Over, and as we see scarcely
any company no other gossip than that
of novels is accessible to the dowager
Lady Mainwaring.
Well, then, when mother approached
me with the manner which I have de
scribed. I knew at once that we were
about to discuss domestic matters, nor
was 1 much at a loss to divine what the
particular matter would probably be.
John and Blnfire had gone out for a ride.
We were about to converse concerning
Sinfire and John. Mother seated'horself
in the large Japanese armchair—the one
made of split cane or bamboo. She just
fills it comfortably. She is very much
broader than she used to be, and her once
delicate complexion has acquired a sub
stantial and permanent ruddiness. It
sometimes seems as if mother had not so
much enlarged as actually become pos
sessed of a different body from that in
which she spent her youth. If it were
not unbecoming to speculate about the
skeleton of one's parent, I should be in
clined to think that her present osseous
framework had been designed for a Brit
ish fishwife. Except for this physical
expansion, however, she remains at least
as aristocratic as ever.
Rembrandt, or perhaps Rubens, would
have made a splendid portrait of her.
Har eyebrows are set high in her fore
head; the spaces immediately above and
below the eye art full, showing a fluent
command of words; her nose is a mod
erate but unmistakable aquiline; her up
per lip is thinner than the lower, which
is molded on a resolute chin; her gray
hair is covered with a black lace cap, the
wide strings of which fall down on
either aide her cheeks; *her summer &s-
tume is ordinarily of some substance
which I will venture to call black grena
dine, with lace embellishments and some
glimpses of white ruching at the throat
and wrists; it makes no attempt to
mold itself closely on her form, and its
ambiquities are imposing as well as pru
dent Poor mother must suffer greatly
from the heat, but she never permits
herself to complain of it She even fans
herself sparingly, as if she were still de
termined to be the cool and slender crea
ture of 80 years ago. There is heroism
in these little things, none the less be
cause it gains no renown.
Our conversation led to no definite re
sult, Mother wanted John to marry,
and she shares the general infatuation
regarding our Cousin Sinfire, and yet 1
could perceive that her mind was not
entirely at eaee.^Tho forces of tradition,
of convention, of temperament, were
working in her against her special and
arbitrary affection for this strange young
woman. Reason prompted her to dis
trust, ofrat least to wait and prove,
while instinct, or something like that,
urged blind acceptance. Between the
two my excellent parent was unwonted-
ly perplexed.
“Lord Cedarcliffe If so impetuous and
so unused to restraint,” she remarked.
She still calls him by the pet name he
used to bear in the nursery when she is
especially moved about him. The re
public would be amused if they knew
how many odd scrape of feudalism and
monarchical tricks are to be packed up
about this bouse. “Perhaps he would
not be so set upon this if Sinfire seemed
more willing to meet his views. It's
very odd, don’t you think, that she
should hesitate? Sho can’t be sincere,
and yet”
“It isn’t so very odd," said L “She
has penetration, and she recognises
John’s impetuosity as plainly as you and
I do. 1 don’t dispute that she wishes to
marry him, but she wishes also to be
sure that he loves her outside of his im
petuosity."
“John is incapable of a trivial attach
ment,” returned mother impressively.
“If he were capable of it, Cousin Sin
fire is taking the best means to make him
serious,” I replied. “1 don't doubt it will
come out all right in the end—on the as
sumption of course that their marriage
is the right thing."
“Doot you think it is the right thing?*
she asked quickly.
“WML It ipu don’t think so. I advise-*
what you must talk to her. ton can dll
it, and yon can't de it too much! Blurt
U right ont. Never mind the words it
comes in! It will get to her just the
same. And sooner or later it will go liard.
but she will talk back to yon. r
But John shook his head and airbed.
“1 might talk love to her if 1 wasn’t in
love with her,” he replied after a mo
ment. “But as it is I can’t get my month
open; I can only act like an ass. And
that isn’t all. I feel as if there were some
secret between her and me, something
that she is keeping from me, I mean. 1
haven't an idea what it can be. but
whatever it is I believe it's the cause why
she doesn't want me to propose to her.”
Naturally I was impressed by this con
firmation of my own notion. Jut 1
didn't want to say anything abont that
to John. I laughed and asked him
whether there was an unknown rival in
the case.
He took it very seriously—in fact, alto
gether too mock so for his health. He
jumped np from the window seat in
which he was sitting, and thqvein down
the center of his forehead swelled, and
his lips became whitish and twitched.
“There shan't be any rival!’' he bnrst
out “I’d kill him!" And he caught up
the Indian club as if he were going to
illustrate his purpose by braining me.
But it was not I that was in danger.
Poor John suddenly gasped and looked
very strange and staggered back to the
window seat I knewat once what ailed
him, and this time 1 succeeded in pre
venting him from actually losing con-
scionsness. The draft I gave him sent
the blood through his veins again with
a jump, and the dull stare left bis
eyes. It was not such a bad attack as
the first one. After a minute or two he
sat upright and looked at me curiously.
"What doeeit mean, Frank?” he asked
“What is the matter with me?”
“Something wrong with the circula
tion, that's all You smoke too much
probably. You must take more care of
yourself."
"I felt as if I were going to die."
“So do seaqick people, bot they live all
the same. How long has this sort of
thing been going on? Was that the first
the other day?"
“Yes; at least—1 don’t know. Of
coarse it's nothing serious. I was born
to live to a hundred I'm as hard as nails.
But it's extremely unpleasant while it
lasts. Tobacco, is it? Well, I can knock
off a pipe or two without much trouble.
But what did you mean about a rival.
Frank? I’m not an unreasonable fellow,
am I? But there isn’t room for a rival
in this business, you know. He or 1
would have to"
“My dear fellow, I know nothing abont
any rival. It was yon that suggested
the idea to me, and I didn't suppose you
were any more in earnest than I was."
"I want yon to understand that I’m
in earnest right through!” said John,
standing up and lowering his thick
brown eyebrows and speaking in his
domineering tone.
I made no reply, but went on with my
dressing. The breakfast bell rang as 1
reached the last button of my waistcoat.
“Look here, Frank," said John, turn
ing upon me at the door os we wore go
ing out, “you’re my brother, and I want
you to help me. There are two reasons
why you can talk to her better than I
can. You've got brains and a tongue in
your head, and you’re not in love with
her. You can find out whether she cares
for me and whether there’s any other
fellow in the case, yon know. It isn't
that I believe there is, but 1 want to be
certain that there isn’t. See?"
I am not a John Alden. though Lord
Cedarcliffu may be a Miles Standish, but
to make him easy I said I would see
about it
[TO BR CONTINUED.!
“There than’! be any rival!" he buret out.
“Why, John,” exclaimed I, “you don’t
mean to tell me you’re eerious? Is it
anything more than a flirtation? Yon
wouldn’t — yon wouldn’t marry her
wonld yon?”
"For a fellow who sets np to be clever
you’re the blindest bat 1 ever came
across," returned John scornfully. "Mar
ryher? If I knew that marrying her n-ouUl
cost me my life 84 hours later. I’d marry
her this minute—if eLVd have me!”
“Nonsense!” said 1. parting my hair
“You don’t care for women!”
"What business have you to know or
say wbat I care for? You think 1 don’t
] feel because 1 don’t chatter!" John's
handsome Saxou face was flushed, and
his blue eyes were wide open and indig
nant His innocence is really pathetic.
“If yon are in earnest, of coarse that
alters the case," I said gravely. “Yon
couldn’t expect me to know until yon
told me. Perhaps Sinfire doesn’t know
either?"
“Ob, yea, she knows!” replied hevwith
a groan.
"Well, modesty is a virtue, but you
needn’t carry it so far as to imagine that
if yon want her yon can’t have her for
the asking.”
"It isn't modesty; it’s common sense!
What is there in me the should care for?
I feel no better than the groom in the
stable when Pm with h»r. 1 don't know
how to talk, and 1 don’t know what sort
of things she’s interested in.”
I said, "However much of a paragon
the may be. she is like other women in
being supremely interested in a certain
'' ' that happens to be one in
are just now especially pro-
And love is
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The Darlington Shoe Store
We are receiving daily our stock of '
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[MEN’S, LADIES’, MISSES and CHILDREN’S]
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Darlington, S. C.
Notice.
A*
will 1
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Oct6—tf
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THE-
SdIHTEPi IlTUBTS
FOR WOMENr
The next secaioa of tlw Institute
will begin on September M. 1388. Foi
terms and catalogue apply to
H. FRANK WILSON.
President, Sumter, 8. C.
Aug 17—2m