A DOMESTIC STORM.
It is a truth almost too trite for reference, that in the experience of
every one of us there are some days in in which everything seems to go
wrong. Such a day was this 13th of November to the Iron King.
When he reached North End that morning, the first thing that met him in
his private office was the news that certain stocks had fallen. The news
came by telegraph, and put him in a terrible temper.
This was about ten o'clock. Two hours later it was discovered that one
of the minor bookkeepers, a new employe who had come well recommended
about a month before, had just absconded with all he could lay his hands
on--only a few thousand dollars--the merest trifle of a loss to
Rockharrt & Sons, but extremely exasperating under the circumstances. So
taking one provocation with another, at noon on that 13th of November
old Aaron Rockharrt was about the maddest man on the face of the earth.
It was his custom to lunch with his sons in the private parlor of Mr.
Clarence's suit of rooms at the North End Hotel, every day at two
o'clock.
To-day, however, he showed no disposition to eat or drink. And although
the two younger men were famishing for food they dared not go to lunch
without him, or even urge him to make an effort to go with them. It was
then three o'clock, an hour later than their usual hour, that Mr.
Rockharrt made a movement in the desired way by rising, stretching his
limbs, and saying:
"We will go over to the hotel and get something to eat."
The three men crossed the street and went directly to Mr. Clarence's
room, where the table for luncheon was set out. But there was nothing on
it but cut bread, casters, and condiments, for these men always
preferred hot luncheon in cold weather, and it was yet to be dished up.
The Iron King was not in a humor to wait. He hurried the servants. And
at length when the dishes, which had been punctually prepared for two
o'clock, were placed on the table at twenty minutes past three,
everything was overdone, dried up, and indigestible.
It was the Iron King's own fault for not coming to the table when the
meal was first prepared to order. But he would not admit that into
consideration. He ordered the waiter to take everything away and throw
it out of doors, declared that he would have a restaurant started on the
opposite side of the street where a man could get a decent meal, and
rose from the table in a rage.
It was while the Iron King was in this amiable and promising state of
mind that a waiter brought in a card and laid it before him. He took it
up and read aloud:
"The Duke of Cumbervale."
"Show him in," said Mr. Rockharrt.
A few minutes later the visitor entered the parlor, bowed to his host,
and then shook hands with the two younger men, whom he had not seen
since the evening before.
"So you braved the storm after all, duke? You found the old house too
dreary for a long, rainy day. Take a seat," said Mr. Rockharrt, waving
his hands majestically around the chairs.
"No; it was not the weather that made Rockhold insupportable to me. But,
sir, I have come a long way for a great disappointment," said the
rejected lover.
"What! what! what! Explain yourself, if you please, sir!" exclaimed the
Iron King, bending his heavy gray brows over flashing eyes.
"Mrs. Rothsay has rejected me."
"What! what! Rejected you! Why, your engagement was declared in the
family conclave only last night."
"Mrs. Rothsay states that the declaration was erroneous, and that no
such engagement ever has been or ever could be made between us."
"How dare she say that? How dare she try to break off with you in this
scandalous manner? But she shall not! She shall keep faith with you or
she is no granddaughter of mine! I will have nothing to do with false
women! How did this breach occur? Tell me all about it!
Fabian--Clarence! Go about your business. I want to have some private
conversation with the duke."
The two younger men, thus summarily dismissed, nodded to the visitor and
left the room, glad enough to go down below to the saloon and get
something to eat and drink.
"Now, then, sir, what's the row with my granddaughter?" demanded the
Iron King, wheeling his chair around to face his visitor.
"There is no 'row,'" said the young man, with the faintest possible hint
of disgust in his tone and manner. "Mrs. Rothsay rejects me, positively,
absolutely. She repudiates the announcement of our betrothal as
unauthorized and erroneous."
"But you know, as we all know, that she was engaged to you! Yes; and she
shall keep her engagement. I'll see to that!"
"Pardon me, Mr. Rockharrt, I am grieved to say that you have made a
mistake. The lady was right. There was no engagement, between Mrs.
Rothsay and myself at the time you made that announcement, nor has
there been one since, nor, I fear, can there ever be."
"Sir!" exclaimed the Iron King, rising in his wrath. "Did you not come
to this country for the express purpose of asking my granddaughter's
hand in marriage? Did I not promise her hand to you in marriage?"
"You did, provi--"
"Then if that did not constitute an engagement, I do not know what
does--that is all. But some people have very loose ideas about honor.
You ask the hand of my granddaughter; I bestow it on you, and announce
the fact to my family."
"Pardon me, Mr. Rockharrt, you promised me the hand of your
granddaughter, provided she should be willing to give it to me."
"'Provided' nothing of the sort, sir. I gave her hand unconditionally,
absolutely, and announced the betrothal to the family."
"But, my dear Mr. Rockharrt, the lady's consent is a most necessary
factor in such a case as this," urged the young man, who began to think
that the despotic egotism of the Iron King had in these later years
grown into a monomania, deceiving him into the delusion that his power
over family and dependants was that of an absolute monarch over his
subjects. This opinion was confirmed by the next words of the autocrat.
"Of course her consent would follow my act. That was taken for granted."
"But, sir, her consent did not follow your act. Quite the contrary; for
my rejection followed it. It is of no use to multiply words. The affair
is at an end. I have bidden good-by to Mrs. Rothsay. I am here to say
good-by to you."
"You cannot mean it!"
"I have left Rockhold finally. I shall leave North End by this six p.m.
train, en route for the South," continued the rejected lover.
"Then, by ----! if she has driven you out of my house, she shall go
herself! I have done the best I could for the woman, and she has repaid
me by ingratitude and rebellion. And she shall leave my house at once!"
exclaimed the despot in a tone of savage resolution.
"Mr. Rockharrt, I must beg that you will not visit my disappointment on
the head of your unoffending granddaughter."
"Duke of Cumbervale, you must not venture to interfere with me in the
discipline of my own family. I don't very much like dukes. I think I
said that once before. I rejected you for my granddaughter two years ago
when she was bound to Rule Rothsay. Now that she is a widow and is free,
I accepted your suit and bestowed her on you, not that I like dukes any
better now than I did then, but I like you better as a man."
The young duke bowed with solemn gravity at this compliment, repressing
the smile that fluttered about his lips. At this moment a waiter entered
the room, and said that "the gentleman's" servant had arrived with his
master's luggage, and requested to know where it was to be put.
"Tell him to get his dinner, and then take the luggage in the same
carriage to the station," said the duke, and the messenger withdrew.
"Have you lunched, duke?" inquired Mr. Rockharrt, mindful, even in his
rage, of his duties as a host.
"I have not thought of doing so," replied the young man.
"Umph! I suppose not!" grunted the Iron King, as he rang the bell.
A waiter appeared.
"Any game in the house?"
"Yes, sir; fine venison."
"Don't want venison--had it for breakfast. Anything else?"
"A very fine wild turkey, sir."
"Bother! Takes three hours to dress, and I want a hot lunch got up in
twenty-five minutes, at longest. Any small game?"
"Uncommon fine partridges, sir."
"Then have a dozen dressed and sent up, with proper accompaniments; and
lose no time about it! Also put a bottle of Johannisberg on ice."
"Yes, sir."
The waiter vanished.
"I must bid you good-by now, Mr. Rockharrt," said the duke, rising.
"No; you must not. Sit down. Sit down. You must lunch with me, and drink
a parting glass of wine. Then you will have plenty of time to secure
your train, and I to drive to Rockhold at my usual hour. Say no more,
duke. Keep your seat."
Cumbervale looked at the iron-gray man before him, thought certainly
this must be their last meeting and parting on earth, and that therefore
he would not cross the patriarch in his humor.
"You are very kind. Thank you. I will break a parting bottle of wine
with you willingly."
In double-quick time the broiled partridges were served, the wine
placed, and all was ready for the two men.
"Go and tell Mr. Fabian and Mr. Clarence that I wish them to come here.
You will find them somewhere in the house," said Mr. Rockharrt.
"Beg pardon, sir; both gentlemen have gone over to the works," replied
the waiter.
This was true. Both "boys" had gorged themselves with cold ham, bread
and cheese, washed down with quarts of brown stout, and were in no
appetite to enjoy partridge and Johannisberg, even if they had been
found in the hotel.
"Glad they have found out that they must be attentive to business. You
and I, duke, will discuss the good things on the table before us. Come."
The two lingered over the luncheon until it was time for the duke to
start for the depot.
"I will send over for my two sons, that you may bid them good-by," said
Mr. Rockharrt, and he turned to the waiter, and told him to go and
dispatch a messenger to that effect.
Messrs. Fabian and Clarence soon put in an appearance, and expressed
their surprise and regret at the sudden departure of their father's
guest, and their hope and trust to see him again in the near future.
Neither of them seemed to know that the betrothal declared at the dinner
table on the night before had no foundation in fact. The duke thanked
them for their good wishes, invited them to visit him if they should
find themselves in England, and then he took a final leave of the
Rockharrts, entered the carriage, and drove off, through a pouring rain,
to the railway station--and out of their lives forever.
"A fine thing Mistress Rothsay has done!" exclaimed the Iron King, when
his guest had gone, and he explained Cora's action.
Corona had spent the day at Rockhold drearily enough. She felt
reasonably sure that her rejection of the duke's hand would deeply
offend her grandfather and precipitate a crisis in her own life. When
she had finished her letter to her brother, in which she told him of the
death of Mr. Rockharrt's wife and added her own resolution soon to set
out to join him in his distant fort, she began to make preparations for
her journey in the event of having to leave Rockhold suddenly. She knew
her grandfather's temper and disposition, and felt that she must hold
herself in readiness to meet any emergencies brought about by their
manifestations. So she set about her preparations.
She had not much to do. The trunks that she had packed and dispatched to
the North End railway station three months before at the hour when her
own journey was arrested by the accident to her grandfather, had
remained in storage there ever since.
The contents of her large valise, which was to have been her own
traveling companion in her long journey to and through the "Great
American Desert," and which was well packed with several changes of
clothes and with small dressing, sewing and writing cases, supplied all
her wants during the three months of her further sojourn at Rockhold.
She had only now to collect these together, cause all the soiled
articles to be laundered, and then repack the valise. This occupied her
all the afternoon of the short November day.
At six o'clock she came down into the parlor to see that the lamps were
trimmed and lighted, and the coal fire stirred up and replenished, so
that her grandfather should find the room warm and comfortable on his
return home. Then she brought out his dressing gown and slippers, hung
the first over his arm chair and put the last on the warm hearthstones.
At length the carriage wheels were heard faintly over the soft, wet
avenue and under the pouring rain.
Old John, waiting in the hall to be ready to open the door in an
instant, did so before the Iron King should leave the carriage, and
hoisting a very large umbrella, he went out to the carriage door and
held it over his master while they walked back to the house and entered
the hall.
"Here! take off my rubber cloak! Take off my overcoat! Now my rubber
boots! What a night!" exclaimed the old man, as he came out of his
shell, or various shells.
Corona had the pitcher of punch on the table now with a cut-glass goblet
beside it.
"I hope you have not taken cold, grandfather," she said, drawing his
easy chair nearer the fire.
"Hold your tongue! Don't dare to speak to me! Leave the room this
instant! John! come in here. Pour me out a glass of that punch, and
while I sip it draw off my boots and put on my slippers," said the Iron
King, throwing himself into his big easy chair and leaning back.
Corona was more pained than surprised. She had expected something like
this from the Iron King. She replied never a word, but passed into the
adjoining dining room and sat down there. Through the open door she
could see the old gentleman reclining at his ease, and sipping his
fragrant hot punch while old John drew off his boots, rubbed his feet,
and put on his warm slippers. Presently the waiter brought in the soup,
put it on the table, and rang the dinner bell. Mr. Rockharrt put down
his empty glass, and arose and came to the table. Cora took her place at
the head of the board, hardly knowing whether she would be allowed to
remain there. But her grandfather took not the slightest notice of her.
She filled his plate with soup, and put it on the waiter held by the
young footman, who carried it to his master. In this manner passed the
whole dinner in every course. Corona carved or served the dishes, filled
the plate for her grandfather, which was taken to him by the footman.
At the end of the heavy meal the Iron King arose from the table and
said:
"I am going to my own room. Mistress Rothsay, I shall have something to
say to you in the morning;" and he went out.