Books by Henry Wood
VICTOR SERENUS A Story of the Pauline Era
12mo Cloth $1.50
STUDIES IN THE THOUGHT WORLD
$1.25 _Fifth Edition_
IDEAL SUGGESTION THROUGH MENTAL PHOTOGRAPHY
Paper 50 cents; Cloth $1.25 _Tenth Edition_
GOD’S IMAGE IN MAN
Some Intuitive Perceptions of Truth
Cloth $1.00 _Eleventh Edition_
EDWARD BURTON A Novel
Cloth $1.25; Paper 50 cents _Ninth Edition_
THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF NATURAL LAW
Large 12mo Paper 50 cents; English Cloth $1.25
_Any of the above sent by mail, postage paid, on receipt of price._
LEE and SHEPARD Publishers
BOSTON
EDWARD BURTON
BY
HENRY WOOD
AUTHOR OF “POLITICAL ECONOMY OF NATURAL LAW,” “IDEAL
SUGGESTION,” “GOD’S IMAGE IN MAN,” ETC.
“With an early introversion,
Through the forms of outward things,
Seeking for the subtle essence,
And the hidden springs.”
_NINTH EDITION_
BOSTON MDCCCXCIX
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS
10 MILK STREET NEXT “THE OLD SOUTH MEETING HOUSE”
COPYRIGHT, 1890, BY HENRY WOOD.
_All Rights Reserved._
PREFATORY NOTE.
The author of this volume believes in the wholesomeness of idealism
and optimism. It is perhaps unnecessary to state that no attempt is
here made to construct a novel upon conventional “realistic” lines.
Systems and doctrines find their only expression in character, and
distinctive personality may be regarded as the outcome of institutions.
It is evident that the delicate pen-photography of the ignoble in
human nature is too often the _animus_ in current fiction. A subtle
tone of unwholesome pessimism and hopelessness is thereby diffused.
Idealization of character may not be regarded as “artistic,” but
whether or not this attempt be successful, the writer will still
believe that in that direction lies a promising field too little
cultivated. It may be well to add that in this narrative no individual
has served as a model for character outline.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. FRENCHMAN’S BAY 7
II. THE DINNER-PARTY 15
III. BURTON’S SCHOOL LIFE 31
IV. BURTON’S THEOLOGICAL EDUCATION 41
V. BURTON’S ILLNESS AND ITS RESULTS 48
VI. THE DOWN-EAST CRUISE 67
VII. A PLEASANT ENTERTAINMENT 91
VIII. DR. FRUSTADT’S EXPERIENCES 108
IX. THE ANEMONE-CAVE PICNIC 115
X. THE SHORE-WALK 131
XI. VAN RODEN’S PROPOSAL 141
XII. EXCURSION TO CRYSTAL CASCADE 161
XIII. A MUTUAL CONFESSION 173
XIV. THE REVIVAL 183
XV. THE TWO FRUSTADTS 199
XVI. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 212
XVII. THE FRUSTADTS IN CHICAGO 225
XVIII. MR. BONBRIGHT’S FAILURE 235
XIX. MR. BONBRIGHT’S ILLNESS 248
XX. HELEN BONBRIGHT’S TRIALS 261
XXI. BAR HARBOR AGAIN 277
EDWARD BURTON.
CHAPTER I.
_FRENCHMAN’S BAY._
About three o’clock one sultry afternoon in August, 188-, a canoe
containing two young men might have been seen slowly making its
way southward upon that picturesque sheet of water on the coast of
Maine known as “Frenchman’s Bay.” The paddles moved lazily, and the
mirror-like surface of the water was disturbed only a short distance
in the track of the light craft, which, on account of the placid
transparency of its native element, seemed to be floating almost in
air. That wonderful combination of sea, mountain, rock and forest,
which has made this fairest gem of the coast famous, was at its best,
and the atmosphere seemed quivering with light, beauty and color. The
transparent azure of the sky was reflected in the crystal blue of the
unruffled water, and nature was in its most serene and dreamy mood. To
the southward, graceful cloud-forms were hanging over Green Mountain;
but with that exception, the afternoon sun was in full dominion, and
the clear-cut forms of the evergreen shores were duplicated in the
waters of the bay. In the hazy distance to the northward, the graceful
slopes of the Sullivan hills rose from a silvery foreground of water,
backed by emerald mountains in the dim vista beyond. On either hand,
down to the water’s edge, the shore was decked with dark forests,
relieved occasionally by masses of irregular brown rocks, whose long
encounter with the waves had fringed them with clefts, coves and
fissures. Here and there, among the sloping evergreen spires were
glimpses of summer cottages, the variegated colors of which formed a
pleasing contrast with their dark green surroundings. To the south was
the fashionable and flourishing town of Bar Harbor, with its lordly
villas, great hotels, busy wharves, palatial steamers, and graceful
yachts; but above all, its background of noble mountains, which
like giant sentinels keep guard over it, in sunshine and in storm.
Out towards the ocean, whose mighty pulsations send in a graceful
swell, loom up those unique islands known as the “Porcupines,” which
stand like huge forts to resist the rougher surges and assaults of
old Neptune. The delicious air was laden with a delicate aroma of
life-giving ozone, furnishing such an environment that bare existence
seemed a luxury and an inspiration. Amid such scenery, Ruskin might
have found new and graceful pictures of mountain grandeur, and
Wordsworth have gained inspiration for rare songs of lake beauty
and sublimity. In the direction of Bar Harbor lay a fleet of yachts
and various other craft, some at anchor, and some lazily sailing
with scarcely enough breeze to fill their sheets, or to give them
perceptible motion.
The two young men whose easy and almost mechanical strokes impelled
the canoe gracefully forward were so absorbed in the charming variety
of water, forest and sky, that for some time they were silent, each
apparently wrapped in his own meditations. The elder of the two was a
pale, intellectual-looking young man, of refined appearance, regular
features, and of an easy nonchalant air, which indicated familiarity
with society, and acquaintance with the gay world. His keen, dark
eye, high forehead, precise expression of feature, and all external
indications, pointed to a character distinguished for unusual vigor
and ability. He was, perhaps, twenty-two or twenty-three years of age;
had been graduated the year before at Harvard, and, at present, was
taking a course in the medical department of the same institution.
His companion was of more sturdy and athletic build, with jet black
hair and mustache, and showed a muscular development which would form
a good equipment for baseball, or for pulling a strong oar. He also
was a Harvard man, and the two, though not chums nor classmates, for
two years past had been warm friends, and had seen much of each other.
The medical student had just arrived at Bar Harbor as the guest of
his friend, whose earnest invitation, seconded by that of his father,
induced him to come for a part of his vacation. The elegant and
spacious cottage of the Bonbrights usually was well filled with invited
guests during “the season,” and a generous but informal hospitality was
a family characteristic.
Silence reigned in the canoe, interrupted only by the soft, regular
plash of the paddles; but at length the medical student arousing from
his reverie, and turning his thoughts from natural scenery to friendly
converse, observed, “Bert, who is that Miss Jenness whose arrival is
expected this afternoon?”
Adelbert Bonbright, who was in the forward part of the canoe, turned
partly around and with an interested expression replied: “She is a
particular friend of my sisters, and a mighty clever girl. Helen was
very intimate with her at Wellesley, and since that time they have
exchanged visits, and I think it is ‘on the bills,’ that she is to be
our guest for the next three or four weeks.”
“Where does she hail from?” asked Van Roden, his curiosity having been
aroused by one or two previous references to the young lady.
“From Philadelphia, Van, and she belongs to one of the best families.”
“A regular ‘blue blood’ then,” suggested Van Roden.
“Oh, yes,” replied Bonbright; “her ancestors came over with William
Penn, and two of her great-grandfathers were signers of the
Declaration. Her father’s mansion is located centrally within the
strictly correct patrician limits of the ‘Quaker City;’ but allow me to
suggest, my dear boy, that the young lady has personal merits enough
without drawing upon her ancestry.”
“Pray, what are her particularly fine points?” said the medical
student, who, though steadily plying his paddle, seemed suddenly to
have lost interest in the surrounding scenery.
“Well,” replied Bert, who now realized that he was arousing the
curiosity of his companion, “you will observe them quickly enough when
you meet her, but I warn you, old fellow, that she is very independent
and unimpressible. She can hold her own in almost any department, and
has decided views, whether in literature, philosophy, ethics or love.
She is a devoted member of a Browning Club; prominent in a Theosophical
Society; a good art critic, and dabbles in poetry.”
“What a paragon!” exclaimed Van Roden; “pray, is there any thing which
she cannot do?”
“A truce to the subject,” responded Bonbright; “‘the proof of the
pudding is in the eating.’”
“The topic is too interesting to be so summarily dismissed,” said Van
Roden. “May I inquire whether it is your well-known general admiration
for the sex, which kindles your enthusiasm in the case of this single
specimen; or is it an example of special selection?”
“I might as well own that it has a flavor of the latter, Van; perhaps,
to quote from your favorite author, it may be regarded as a case of
the ‘survival of the fittest,’ she being the fittest.”
“I suppose,” retorted Van Roden, “that we may regard her as a
‘survival,’ because she is the latest of the series.”
“Well,” replied Bonbright, “there is always an improved edition--a
climax to every series--and I might as well admit that Miss Jenness is
the climax.”
“Until a later climax--if that is what you call a young lady--is
reached, Bert.”
“Nonsense! Van; there is only one superlative among the comparatives;
one Mont Blanc among the Alps. When a fellow’s ideal is fully complied
with--in every detail--nothing more is possible.”
“One would conclude, my dear boy, that your neck was about ready for
the matrimonial noose,” said Van Roden. “I hope that you will not be
such a fool as to surrender your freedom to any woman. On the much
mooted question, ‘Is marriage a failure?’ I vote, yes; that is, so
far as its being a means whereby the aggregate of human happiness is
increased. The average young woman of the present time knows little or
nothing of love, _per se_; that impetuous unreasonable passion, which
has been the most potent factor in all the world’s movements, in the
past. She is on the lookout for jewelry, _bric-à-brac_, horses, an
establishment, social rank and position. She is early put in training
to play her cards for these things; and almost invariably carries out
the programme. Her fine points are cultivated and polished, and those
which are indifferent kept in the background; while she is trotted
out on the matrimonial course in order to win. Her figure, hair,
complexion, dress, manners, accent and dancing, are on exhibition at
their best--and the fastest possible time is made towards the goal,
which is a ‘good match.’ Marriage is regarded as the _entrée_, or
vestibule to luxury, position and social distinction. Matrimony in
modern society is a matter of money; indeed, a regular bargain and
sale.”
“You are a regular old croaker, cynic and materialist, Van; utterly
destitute of all sentiment, or romance. Love is as potent, and Cupid’s
arrows as sharp, as at any time since the world began. Though the age
of chivalry has passed, and brave knights no longer enter the lists
of the tournament and risk their lives to gain the favor of a ‘faire
ladie’; and although the love songs and serenades of gay troubadours
have well-nigh ceased; yet love is a sovereign which will never be
dethroned. The tinsel, the accompaniments, and the establishment, upon
which you wax so eloquent, are mere side-shows and surface indications.
Love is the motor, and thus will it ever be. Like the silent and unseen
forces of attraction and cohesion, it is imperious; and all external
motives must ‘pale their ineffectual fires’ before its sway.”
“O, that’s all hifalutin, Bert: I do not wish to dampen your ardor, or
spoil your enthusiasm; but my observation leads me to conclude that the
marriage tie--especially within the circle of that hollow aggregation
known as ‘society’--in a majority of cases, is a yoke, the galling
friction of which directly tends to infelicity and gilded misery.
Granted, there are many exceptions, but if the inside and suppressed
history of the marriage relation could be uncovered, I believe the
exhibit would be as sensational, and have as much drawing power, as any
drama upon the stage. Women are exacting, both by nature and education,
in the present condition of society. Marriage has become a partnership,
formed from motives of expediency, fashion and social ambition. In
the very nature of the case, when the ‘fair sex’ claim equal, if not
superior authority in all departments--whether within or outside of
their peculiar province--to the traditional head of the household, you
may look out for breakers. Were women content to fill the place that
nature plainly designed for them, things might be different; but as
a rule, they are ambitious to extend their domain, and thereby comes
friction. It is often admitted that marriage is a ‘lottery,’ and it
is quite as evident that lotteries should be suppressed. History is
filled with examples of marital infelicity. Lend your sympathy to
Socrates, Byron, Goldsmith, Carlyle, and to unnumbered other sufferers,
whose experiences, unlike the examples named, have been a sealed book.
Look at the rapid increase of business in the divorce courts; note
the marvellous growth of Chicago, where, as a specialty, the yoke is
severed with ‘neatness and despatch.’ My sentiments may be voiced
in the immortal words of Patrick Henry; ‘I know not what others may
choose, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death.’”
The paddles moved with automatic regularity, but in very slow time.
“A man who can utter such a carping and pessimistic piece of oratory
as you have evolved, Van, deserves--in a metaphoric sense, at the
least--a cuff from every woman whom he may meet. My revenge will be
complete, if in the not distant future some particular example should
present itself, in which to you, that yoke will seem easy, that
captivity sweet, and that matrimonial noose become an attractive way
of leaving the world. Your examples of marital misery are exceptions;
the counterfeit proves the existence of the genuine, and the exception,
that of the rule. If among a hundred marriages there be a divorce case,
it makes more noise in the world than the ninety and nine who need no
divorce. It has been wisely suggested, that man and woman are like two
halves of a sphere--never complete until they find their counterpart;
and it is, therefore, plain that you, being a hemisphere, will not roll
smoothly through the world, but will go with a wabble, unfinished; and
incomplete, as it were.”
“Please ‘give us a rest’ on the matrimonial business,” retorted Van
Roden; “I think that you are better qualified to judge correctly
of football, sparring or poker, than of the merits and demerits of
marriage.”
By this time the light craft was past the headquarters of the Bar
Harbor Canoe Club, and after skirting the shore of Bar Island,
soon rounded the point, where the town, fringed with its busy and
picturesque wharves, rose up in the immediate foreground.
“Do you not find this town stupid,” asked Van Roden, “after the lively
old times and sports of Harvard?”
“Not at all, Van; one can manage to exist very well here; what with the
hops, buckboard excursions, scenery, and fishing,--especially that kind
of angling in which about five young ladies have a line out for each
man,--it is interesting, and one would be a prig to vote it dull.”
“A prig in the clover, I suppose,”--quietly suggested Van Roden.
“An atrocious chestnut, Van; but look out for the swell of that
Rockland steamer, for we are very close to her wake.”
One or two quick, skilful strokes, however, brought the sharp bow to
receive the swell, and in a few moments the young men stepped upon
the floating dock, and their light craft was moored alongside of its
numerous companions, which constantly dance to the rhythm of the waves.