His father was standing on the hearth-rug, awaiting his return with
some uneasiness. Fessenden gave his hand a mighty grip. “It’s all
right,” he said. “I was born into this family, and that is the end of
it. I’d never go back on you, anyhow. But if you don’t mind, I’d like
to go up to the mountains for a while. I’d like it awfully if you would
come, too, of course--it’s only that I can think better there than
anywhere else--and it occurs to me for the first time that I am rather
tired--the examinations were very stiff, and I went in for an unusual
amount.”
“The Adirondacks, by all means, if you prefer them; and I am badly
in need of a holiday; but how would you like a yachting cruise for
a change? I have a new steam-yacht of 7000 tons that I think would
interest--”
“A steam-yacht of 7000 tons!” cried Fessenden, his terrible
responsibilities forgotten. “I can think of nothing on earth--what sort
of machinery has she got? How fast can she go? Can I run her?”
While Mr. Abbott was answering questions, luncheon was announced, and
he passed his hand through his son’s arm. “We are lunching earlier than
usual on your account, and the time has run away,” he said haltingly.
“I don’t wish to give you too many shocks in one day, but I must make
another confession. You have--I married again some years ago.”
“My dear father,” replied his son dryly, “if you told me that you had
married Queen Victoria and annexed the British realm--in fact I expect
it. Are there--have I any more brothers and sisters scattered about
among the palaces of Europe?”
Mr. Abbott laughed. “No, I did not marry another young wife. Your
step-mother is ornamental in her way; but I selected her partly for
companionship--I had known her always--partly because I wanted some
one to bring up your sister with common-sense and care. I am perfectly
satisfied with her; and, as she is a woman of infinite tact, I am
sure you will get on with her whether you like her or not. She will
probably be a little late for luncheon--she has so many morning
engagements--charities--”
But this was not the occasion for Mrs. Abbott’s tact to fail her. She
had given the father and son their uninterrupted morning; but to hasten
home and preside at luncheon at the unseemly hour of half-past twelve,
to make such a performance appear both natural and a compliment, was an
occasion for subtlety too rare to be missed. She was standing in the
dining-room as they entered, one hand resting on the table, her eyes
fixed in pleasant anticipation on the Gobelin which hung before the
door. She still wore her hat, she was slightly flushed, her wrap was
half removed--her whole appearance was stamped with delicate haste. As
she shook hands warmly with Fessenden, smiling and talking rapidly in a
very cultivated voice, her step-son wondered at her extreme unlikeness
to any woman of her probable age that he had ever seen. She was tall,
slender, as willowy as youth; her hair was as black as her eyes, her
skin, although sallow, was without wrinkle or line, and her features
were mobile. She wore a gown of light summer silk and a large hat, yet
both were made and worn with such tact that the painful affectation of
lost youth was not suggested: she looked what she was, a woman of the
ever-receding middle age, fashionably dressed. Whatever use she might
make of modern science to avert age, she employed no art to simulate
youth, and as her year was various and crowded, both mind and face
were plastic. Whatever her temperament may have been originally, she
had made it equable long since; and while she escaped the stigma of
amiability, her self-control carried her evenly through the smooth
waters of her life. No one ever knew whether she were a really
intellectual woman or a brilliantly superficial one, for she had a
delicately masterful habit of changing the conversation, as if the end
of living were to avert the monotonies. Even in the soft vagueness of
chiffon and lace she looked well groomed, and on the promenade and in
her carriage no one outshone her in distinction. Distinction, indeed,
was the keynote of her personality; and it is doubtful if she would
not have sacrificed all other possible gifts to this. An efficient
housekeeper managed her twenty servants, her pin-money would have kept
an ambitious family of the middle class in affluence, her life was far
more luxurious than royalty’s; she was the leader of the most exclusive
old set in New York, presided over the most important charities, and
yet found time to read the foreign news and play with intellect. With
it all she had the rare good sense to be content with her lot and to
keep her health.
But in spite of this charming personage who diffused ease as with
unseen wings, discontent had assailed Fessenden again. The immense dim
baronial room, the automatic butler, the catlike footmen, absurdly tall
in their livery, the gold and crystal and floral splendor of the table,
made him long gloomily for _Pocahontas_ and a “hunk” of Christina’s
bread. He was grateful, however, that Mrs. Abbott talked constantly,
in her sprightly abrupt manner. She had been educated as thoroughly as
an Englishwoman, trained in a deportment which was a nice mixture of
reserve and graciousness--Fessenden inferred that she would treat a
servant with the utmost consideration, and never permit a liberty from
a friend--and she had cultivated the art of conversation, of appearing
spontaneous--rarely finishing a long sentence--and of adapting herself
to all men, from a reforming drunkard in the slums straight up to
royalty. She presently divined her step-son’s mental state, and
diverted him by talking of his sister.
“Alexandra spends her winters with the Archduchess, with whom she was
brought up, you know. She hates New York, but is fond of our home on
the Hudson, and will go with me this summer to Newport--makes her
début, you know--she is just eighteen, but went to court functions
during the year preceding Rudolf’s death. The Archduchess--they are
the same age--came out at sixteen--the Empress being so much away made
a difference. Alexandra has rather Americanized her, although in her
way she is as much of an individual as the German Emperor--if she
only becomes American enough, I believe Europe will hear of her--do
you observe your father smile? It’s too bad, really--if you rush
off yachting like this, you won’t see Alexandra for months; she has
remained later than usual this year, for the Archduchess is still in
terrible distress over the death of her brother--a greater tragedy for
Europe than for her, however! I wonder how you and Alexandra will like
each other? How odd for you to meet for the first time at your age!
She is most brilliantly educated, very clever, and a really remarkable
linguist; speaks even Hungarian with fluency, and already has quite
a knowledge of the world--foreign men are such an education; but I
don’t think she will marry early. She is a handsome girl--looks like
your mother, but less beautiful; not in the least susceptible--has a
remarkably level head; is singularly like your father in many respects.
We hardly fancy she will marry a foreigner. If she does, her choice is
sure to be a wise one; her head is very cool, and she is in a position
to take any step with her eyes open.”
Fessenden had all the young, or the untravelled, American’s contempt
for the foreigner. As his step-mother paused for breath, he elevated
the nose that England had given him. “I should hope she wouldn’t,” he
said emphatically. “Aren’t there enough men in America? Why don’t you
make her live over here? I think hobnobbing with royalty is ridiculous
for an American.”
Mrs. Abbott laughed pleasantly. “If you could only be an American woman
for five minutes! But don’t worry; your sister is as good an American
as you are--we have seen to that--and, as I have said, remarkably
level-headed; Europe has merely improved, not changed her. I am
positive you will be delighted with her, and what she can’t tell you
of _la haute politique_!-- She is tremendously interested in you--but
I must run! I have an engagement with the housekeeper, and she has the
vice of promptness. She is moving us to The Abbey, and we are late this
year--I love New York; and as your father was going abroad, and Alex is
so far behind time--you will excuse me, I know; and mind you come to
tea with me in my own little room at half-past five. You are included
in that invitation, my lord.” And, nodding brightly, she left the room
with an elastic step that in no way detracted from the light dignity of
her carriage.
Fessenden drew a long breath.
“It is not always so,” said Mr. Abbott, with a smile. “As I remarked
before, she has great tact. She saw that you were bored, and was
determined to entertain you; but when another wants the floor, I do
not know any one who can yield it more gracefully. But of course she
lives in an atmosphere of flattery--you must expect to find her rather
spoiled; but if you really are a good American, you won’t mind that.
Alexandra is far less so; she has been educated in a severer school,
and she has a far juster sense of proportion--knows exactly what
the flattery of the courtier amounts to. That is one reason I have
permitted her to be over there so much--one of many reasons.”
He lapsed into the dreamy condition his son remembered so well; but he
emerged in a few moments, and waved his hand. The servants disappeared.
Mr. Abbott concentrated his gaze on his son. “Fessenden,” he said
slowly, “I will tell you my programme for the next year; and please
remember, as you listen, that if you do not like it you are at liberty
to follow one of your own. I shall never do more than suggest again;
for I admit that I have had my day, and that it is your turn now. To
prove my entire sincerity in this respect, I shall deposit a million
dollars to your credit to-morrow. That will make you your own master--”
Fessenden had flung himself half-way across the table. “I know what I
will do with it,” he cried eagerly. “I never dreamed I could get to
work so soon--but pardon me; go ahead, sir. Mine will keep.”
“I have no doubt that plans will come to you very thickly, but I want
you to learn something of Europe before settling down. I shall take
three secretaries on the yacht with me--I should break down if I
relaxed altogether--and in the course of the journey you will learn
a great deal about my affairs. After that preliminary course I want
you to stay over there for a time, and apply yourself to the study
of Europe. If churches and picture-galleries happen to interest you,
polish them off as quickly as possible, and then get down beneath the
surface. Study politics, governments, the financial and commercial
conditions of the first-rate powers--make yourself master at first
hand of national traits and idiosyncrasies; you will have letters
that will carry you everywhere. There are going to be two controlling
forces in the world in the next thirty years, yourself and William
of Germany--if he lives!--if he lives! Keep a hawk-eye on him, and
don’t make the common shallow mistake of underrating him. He alone can
block the progress of the United States; all the other nations put
together are not worth considering. He only needs certain conditions
to scoop in Europe like another Charlemagne. It may be that he will
create these conditions. It may be that you will help him to them, if
you both happen to pull in the same direction. That of course is for
the future. I will see that you meet him informally this summer. But
if he fascinates you--as he probably will--make always this reserve:
your future friendship for him depends upon his course towards the
United States. It is not too soon to begin checkmating him, and it can
always be done by this country; but it must be done by the individual.
Washington is blind by too much occupation with other things. Would
you like to walk down-town and see our offices? Historical landmarks,
too--Washington--Hamilton-- Let me hear your plans.”