MISS AINSLEY
While in New York, Owen Clancy had been kept informed of the drift of
those events in which he was especially interested. While Mara's effort
had increased his admiration for her, its success had still further
discouraged his hope. In his way he was as proud as she was. He had
committed himself to a totally different line of action, for in his
business relations he had been led into friendly relations with many
Northern people in both cities. He had accepted and returned their
hospitalities in kind as far as it was possible for a young bachelor of
modest means. This courtesy had been expected and accepted as a matter of
course, and to exchange it for cold, freezing politeness limited only to
matters of trade, would not only subject him to ridicule but cut short his
business career. Considerations supreme in Mara's circle were ignored by
the great world, and, having once felt the impulses of the large currents
of life, it would be impossible for Clancy to withdraw into the little
side eddy wherein thought was ever turning back to no purpose. Having
clasped hands and broken bread with the men and women of the North, he
felt that he could not, and would not stultify himself, even for the sake
of his love, by any change toward them. They would despise him not only as
a miracle of narrowness but also as an insincere man, whose courtesy had
been but business policy, easily dropped at the bidding of some more
pressing interest.
His last interview with Mara had depressed him exceedingly, for while it
had increased his love it had also revealed to him the radical divergence
in their views and made it more clear that he could only hope to win her
love by the sacrifice of self-respect. He must cease to be a thinking,
independent man, a part of his own day and generation, and fix his
thoughts upon the dead issues of the past. "The idea," he would mutter,
"of sitting down and listening to Mrs. Hunter's inane and endless lament."
He could not conform to Mara's views without being guilty of hypocrisy
also, and she proved her narrowness by not recognizing this truth.
After all, the point of view was chiefly the cause of the trouble between
them. She had ever dwelt in the shaded valley; he had been on the
mountain-top, and so had secured a broad range of vision. He had come into
contact with the great forces which were making the future and the men of
the future, and he recognized that his own State and his own people must
be vitalized by these forces or else be left far behind. And he
represented a large and increasing class in his native city. In birth and
breeding he was the peer of Mara or any of her aristocratic circle. He had
admission to the best society in the State, and, if looked upon coldly by
some, it was for the same reasons which actuated the girl for whom he
would gladly yield everything except his principles and right of private
judgment.
While he had many warm, sympathetic friends he felt that the old should
give way to the new, he yet ran against the prejudices which Mara embodied
so often that he began to feel ill at ease in Charleston.
He thought of removing permanently to cosmopolitan New York more than once
during his absence North. If he should be fully convinced after his return
that Mara was lost to him, unless he became a part of her implacable and
reactionary coterie, it might be better for his peace of mind that he were
far away.
One evening, before his departure home, he was invited to dine with a
gentleman who had large railroad interests in the South. Mr. Ainsley was a
widower, a man of wealth, and absorbed in the pleasure of its increase. He
had made a business acquaintance with Clancy, and, finding him unusually
intelligent and well informed in regard to Southern matters, naturally
wished to converse more at length with him. The cordial invitation, the
hearty welcome of the Northern capitalist could scarcely fail in
gratifying the young Southerner, who keenly felt the importance of
interesting just such men as his host in the enterprises under
consideration. During the preliminary talk in the library of his palatial
home, Mr. Ainsley soon discovered that his guest was not only well
informed but frank and honest in statements, giving the cons as well as
the pros, in spite of an evident desire to secure for the South all the
advantages possible.
Before going to the dining-room, Miss Caroline, his host's only daughter,
entered the library and was presented. Clancy was fairly dazzled by her
remarkable beauty. She was a blonde of the unusual type characterized by
dark eyes and golden hair. Naturally, therefore, the first impression of
beauty was vivid, nor was it banished by closer observation. As she
presided with ease and grace at her father's table, Clancy found himself
fascinated as he had never been before by a stranger.
Although their table-talk lost its distinctively business and statistical
character, Mr. Ainsley still pursued his inquiries in a broad, general
way, and the daughter also asked questions in regard to life and society
at the South which indicated a personal interest on her part.
At last she said, "Papa thinks it quite possible that we may spend some
time in your region, and in that case we should probably make Charleston
our headquarters. I have a friend, Mrs. Willoughby--do you know her?"
"Yes, indeed; a charming lady. She resides on the Battery."
"I'm glad you know her. I met her abroad, and we became very fond of each
other. She has often asked me to visit her, but as I rarely leave Papa,
the way has never opened."
"My daughter is very good in accompanying me in my various business
expeditions," her father explained, "and you know they do not often lead
to fashionable watering-places, nor can they always be adjusted to such
seasons as I could desire. I wish I could go to Charleston at an early
date, but in view of other interests, I cannot tell when I can get away."
"When I do come, I shall make the most of my name and insist on being
regarded as a Carolinian," said Miss Ainsley, laughing.
Clancy was pleased with the conceit and the delicate compliment implied,
but he was already impressed with the idea that his hostess was the most
cosmopolitan girl that he had ever met. She piqued his curiosity, and he
led her to talk of her experiences abroad. Apparently she had been as much
at home in Europe as in America, and had been received in the highest
social circles everywhere. When after dinner she played for him some
brilliant, difficult classical music, he began to regard her a perfect
flower of metropolitan culture. Yet she perplexed him. She revealed so
much about herself without the slightest hesitation, yet at the same time
seemed to veil herself completely. He and her father could broach no topic
of conversation in which she could not take an intelligent part. Matters
of European policy were touched upon, and she was at home in regard to
them. She smiled broadly when he tried to explain to her father that
patience would still be required with the South, but that in time the two
parts of the country would be more firmly welded together than ever. "Such
antipathies amuse me," she said. "It is one side keeping up a quarrel
which the other has forgotten all about."
"The circumstances are different, Miss Ainsley," Clancy replied. "The war
cost me my father, my property, and impoverished my State."
He could not tell whether her eyes expressed sympathy or not, for they had
beamed on him with a soft alluring fire from the first, but her father
spoke up warmly: "The North has not forgotten, especially the older
generation. We have not suffered materially and have become absorbed in
new interests, but the heart of the North was wounded as truly as that of
the South. I wish to assure you, Mr. Clancy, how deeply I sympathize with
and honor your spirit of conciliation. What is there for us all but to be
Americans? Believe me, sir, such men as yourself are the strength and hope
of your section."
"I believe with you, Mr. Ainsley, that it has been settled that we are to
have but one destiny as a nation, but in justice to my people I must say
that our wounds were so deep and the changes involved so vast that it is
but reasonable we should recover slowly. You may say that we committed
errors during the reconstruction period, yet they were errors natural to a
conquered people. In the censure we have received from many quarters we
have been almost denied the right to our common human nature. Possibly the
North, in our position would not have acted very differently. But the past
_is_ past, and the question is now, what is right and wise? I know that I
represent a strong and growing sentiment which desires the unity and
prosperity of the entire country. I in turn, sir, can say that men like
yourself, in coming among us and investing their money do more than all
politicians in increasing this sentiment. It proves that you trust us; and
trust begets trust and good feeling. The North, however, will always be
mistaken if it expects us to denounce our fathers or cease to honor the
men who fought and prayed for what they believed was right."
"Suppose, Mr. Clancy," Miss Ainsley asked, with mirthful eyes, "that a
party in the South had the power to array your section against the North
again, would you go with your section?"
"Oh, come, Carrie, it is scarcely fair to ask tests on utterly improbable
suppositions," said her father laughing, yet he awaited Clancy's answer
with interest.
"No," he said quietly, "not with the light I now possess. I would have
done so five years ago. Are Northern young men so intrinsically wise and
good that they are not influenced by their traditions and immediate
associations?"
"Mr. Clancy, where are your eyes? Go to the Delmonico cafe at noon
to-morrow, and observe the flower of our patrician youth taking their
breakfast. You will see beings who are intrinsically what they are."
"I fear we are rather even in this respect," said Clancy, laughing. "You
have your metropolitan dudes and manikins, and we our rural ruffians,
slaves of prejudice, who hate progress, schools and immigration, as they
do soap and water. There is some consideration for our fellows, however,
for they scarcely know any better, and many of their characteristics are
bred in the bone. It would almost seem that the class you refer to are
fools and nonentities from choice."
"I fear not," she said, lifting her eyebrows, "if I were a medical student
I should be tempted to kill one of them--it wouldn't be murder--to see if
he had a brain."
"You think brain, then, is absolutely essential?'
"Yes, indeed. I could endure a man without a heart, but not if he were a
fool. If a man is not capable of thinking himself into what is sensible he
is a poor creature."
Clancy shrugged his shoulders in slight protest and soon after took his
leave, having first acquiesced in an appointment with Mr. Ainsley at his
office in the morning.
On the way to his hotel and until late into the night, he thought over his
experiences of the evening. Did Miss Ainsley intend to compliment him by
suggesting that he was thinking himself into what was sensible? It was
difficult to tell what she intended as far as he was concerned. "She could
only have the most transient interest in such a stranger as I am," he
reasoned, "yet her eyes were like magnets. They both fascinate and awaken
misgivings. Perhaps they are the means by which she discovers whether a
man is a fool or not; if he speedily loses his head under their spells,
she mentally concludes, weighs and finds wanting. Probably, however, like
hosts of pretty women, she simply enjoys using her powers and seeing men
succumb; and men not forearmed and steeled as I am, might well hesitate to
see her often, for my impression is right strong that she has more brain
than heart. Yet she is a dazzling creature. Jove, what a contrast to Mara!
Yet there is a nobility and womanly sincerity in Mara's expression than I
cannot discover in Miss Ainsley's face. However wrong Mara may be, you are
sure she is sincere and that she would be true to her conscience even if
she put the whole North to the sword; but this brilliant girl--how much
conscience and heart has she? Back of all her culture and accomplishments
there is a woman; yet what kind of a woman? Well, the prospects are that I
may have a chance to find out when she comes South. One thing is certain,
she will not discover that I am a fool by speedily kindling a vain
sentiment. Yet I would like to find her out, to discover the moral texture
of her being. A girl like Miss Ainsley could more than fulfil a man's
ideal or else make his life a terror."
He called again just before his departure, and saw her alone. As at first,
she appeared to veil the woman in her nature completely, while, at the
same time, the mild lightning of her eyes played about him.
Although consciously on his guard he found himself fascinated in spite of
himself by her marvellous beauty, and his curiosity piqued more than ever.
He discovered that her range of reading was wide, especially in modern
European literature, and he was charmed by her broad, liberal views.
Perhaps it was because he was singularly free from egotism that he was so
conscious of her fine reticence which took the mask of apparent frankness.
Most men would have been flattered by her seeming interest in them and
willingness to listen to all they had to say about themselves. According
to Clancy's opinion, conversation should be an equal interchange. He
looked direct into Miss Ainsley's eyes. They bewildered and perplexed him,
for they appeared to gather the rays of some light he did not understand
and focus them upon himself. He wished he could see her in the society of
other men and could learn more of her antecedents so that he might better
account for her, but he went away feeling that she was more of an enigma
than ever.
The glamour of her perplexing personality was upon him during much of his
journey, but as he approached his native city thoughts of Mara
predominated. Was she utterly estranged, and was the secret of her
coldness due to the truth that he had never had any real hold upon her
heart? If Mrs. Hunter had not so harshly interposed at the critical moment
of their last interview, he believed that he would have discovered why it
was she said he was "breaking her heart." Was it because he charged her
with disloyalty to her kindred? Or had his own course which she felt was
separating them some part in her distress? The fact that she had been
silent to his last appeal, that she had proved his fears in regard to her
poverty to be true, yet had sought aid from such an unexpected source,
rather than permit him to endow her with his love and all that it
involved, forced him to the miserable conclusion that she had at least
decided against him.
But hope dies hard in a lover's breast. He longed to see her again, yet
how could he see her except in the presence of others?
He knew they soon would meet; he was determined that they should; and
possibly something in her involuntary manner or expression might suggest
that she had thought of his words in his absence.
She had thought of his words as we know, but she had also been given other
food for reflection which the following chapter will reveal.