and fasting for a week, and be paid by touching such a hand as that. The
queer thing is that I've known Clarice for over twenty years--I told you
she had been in society for six--and practically lived with her most of
that time, and yet she grows more surprising every day. It seems to be
generally supposed that familiarity breeds contempt in such cases; that
sisters, and wives, and the like, get to be an old story to the men who
belong to them. Clarice is not that kind: possibly I am not. To be sure,
she is neither my wife nor any blood relation; but I don't see that that
makes any difference. They took out a patent for her up above, and
reserved all rights, with no power of duplication. She might care for me
a little more; but then I don't suppose I've ever given her any reason
to. I am well enough in my way, but I'm not such an original and
striking specimen of my 'sect' as she is of hers--not by a long shot.
She was exhausted now, and that is how I got a chance to put in all this
wisdom just here. I might talk to Mabel for a week, and it would produce
no effect: but a little thing upsets the Princess, her organization is
so delicate and sensitive. She is all alive and on fire, or else languid
and disdainful: she can't take life easily, as people of coarser grain
do, like me. Her brain weighs too much and works too hard; that uses her
up. I don't doubt she has a heart to match; but it has never yet waked
up to any great extent, so far as I have seen or heard. No matter;
people will care for you all the same, Beauty, whether you care for them
or not. Don't fancy that I am the only one--far from it: but I have the
luck to be her adopted brother from infancy, and to have access to her
when others have not. She is not always kind--very seldom, in fact, up
to date: but it is a privilege to look at her, and any treatment from
her is good enough for me. She used to tyrannize over me in this way
when she was ten and I twenty, and so it will be, no doubt, to the end
of the chapter. Outside, I sometimes take on a man-of-the-world air, and
fancy that I can think of you lightly, my Princess--that is the correct
society tone, and it does not pay to display the finer feelings of our
nature to the general world: but when I come under the spell of your
presence, I know that that is all humbug, and that you are Fair Inez of
the ballad, God bless you. You and Hartman ought to get on together: it
might be a good thing for you both--him especially. Mabel and Jane are
women too, but they are as devoted to you as I am, according to their
lights, and more jealous for you: jealousy seems to be no part of me,
luckily. Well, between us we ought to be able to keep all harm from you,
if you will let us.
Of course I didn't say all this out loud, but only thought it. Then she
opened her eyes and yawned a little.
"Have I been asleep, Bob? I must have been: you tired me so. O yes, I
know you think a good deal of me: that is an old story. Well, anything
more?"
"Only about poor Hartman, dear: you didn't promise yet."
"Well, when he comes I will look him over and see what is to be done
with him. I must go upstairs and dress now." And with this I had to be
content.
This conversation occurred of a Sunday afternoon, when Mabel and Jane
had gone to Church, and taken Herbert with them: the infants were out
for an airing with their nurse. Fortunately there was a long missionary
sermon, and a big collection, to which I must send five dollars extra:
the occasion was worth that much to me. As the Princess left the room,
they came in. They looked at her, then at me. "What have you been doing
to Clarice, Robert?"
"Only preparing her to receive Hartman."
"Preparing her! you great goose, what does she want with your
preparation? You'll only prejudice her against him, and spoil any
chances he might have. Let her alone, do. Haven't you made mischief
enough between them already?"
That is all they know about it. Churchgoing sometimes fails to bring the
female mind into a proper frame. But you see they are ready to scratch
out even my eyes at the thought that I have been rubbing her down the
wrong way. No matter: I know what I know, and they need not try to make
me believe that these things will go right without proper management.
V.
CONSULTATION.
We usually go to Newport for the summer. As Mrs. Fishhawk says, the
bathing is so fine, and the cliffs are such a safe place for children to
play. Not that we care so much for the society: the Princess has seen
the vanity of that and been bored with it, and the rest of us are very
domestic people. After much persuasion through the mail, Hartman agreed
to join us there: I was to pick him up in New York and take him down. A
night or two before this, Clarice took me out on the aforesaid cliffs,
which afford a fine walk in the moonlight with the right kind of
company, but somewhat dangerous if you get spoony and forget to look
where you are going. The Princess, it is needless to say, never commits
this folly: she always has her wits about her, and wits of a high order
they are, as not a few men have found to their cost, myself
included,--many and many a time. She opened the ball.
"Robert, do you remember our compact?"
"I'm not likely to forget it. Your words are my law, more sacred and
peremptory than the Ten Commandments, or those of the old codger who
wrote 'em in blood because his ink had given out. As a servant looks to
the hand of his mistress, so am I to watch your dark blue eye for
direction and approval. Deign to cast a sweet smile, however faint, in
this direction occasionally: it won't cost you much, and will encourage
me. If the devotion of a lifetime--"
"Yes, I know all that: at least you've said it often enough. Now you
will have an opportunity to put it in practice. Drop generalities, and
come to business."
"My heart's queen, I am all attention. Speak, and thy slave obeys. Bid
me leap from yon beetling crag into the billows' angry roar--"
"Will you stop that, or shall I go into the house? We are not rehearsing
private theatricals now."
"Ah, indeed? I thought we might be. I expect to see some next week."
"You will see my place at table vacant if you don't keep quiet, and
listen to what I have to say. I can join Constance yet. You talk about
your affection for me and anxiety to serve me, and when I want something
definite of you, you go off into the Byronic, or the Platonic, or what
you would perhaps call the humorous: it is not easy to discriminate
them. Once for all, will you do as I bid you, or not?"
When the Princess wants to bring a man to book, he has to come there,
and stay there till he sees a favorable opening for a break: there was
none such just now. So I called in the white-winged coursers of my too
exuberant fancy, locked them up in the barn, begged the lady's pardon as
usual, and composed myself into an attitude of respectful and devout
attention, as if I were in church. It was not long after dinner: I
wanted to have some more fun, but that did not seem to be just the time
and place for it. My preceptress eyed me sternly, and waxed anew the
thread of her discourse.
"I told you that my actions might appear strange to your ignorance. I
will tell you now what my plan is, so far as is necessary for your
guidance: then perhaps you will have sense enough not to go gaping
about, but to fall into line and do what is required of you. I have
determined to see very little of this Mr. Hartman--"
"O now, Clarice! After you promised! I relied on you--"
"Be still, stupid, and hear me out. I shall see but little of him at
first. You have made such an ado about the man, I am disposed to be
interested in him, for your sake. There, that will do; let my hand
be."--I was merely pressing it a little, I assure you, to testify my
gratitude for this unusual consideration: I don't know when she ever
owned to doing a thing for my sake before. "For your sake first, you
great baby, and then, if he is worth it, for his own. But at the start,
as I told you, I must look him over; and that I can do best at a little
distance."
"And then you mean to take him in and do for him? You can, of course;
but, Princess dear, be merciful--for my sake first, and then, if he is
worth it, for his own. Don't grind him up too fine: leave pieces of him
big enough to be recognized and collected by his weeping friends."
"Robert, you really ought to try to restrain your native coarseness.
What can a man like you know of the motives and intentions of a woman
like me? Poor child, if I were to put them before you in the plainest
terms the facts and the dictionary allow, you could not understand
them."
As a quartz-crusher the Princess could have won fame and fortune. I hope
she may not pulverize Hartman as effectually as she does me: he might
not take it so kindly. To eliminate the metaphor, she is a master at the
wholesome process of taking a man down: not that I don't often deserve
it, or that it is not good for me. In fact, I've given her occasion,
from her youth up, to get her hand in; and admiration of her skill binds
up the wounds, so to speak, with which my whole moral nature is scarred
at least sixteen deep. In case you should not follow my imaginative
style, let me say in simpler language that I am used to it; but another
man might not understand it. I consumed some more humble pie--these
desserts occur frequently in the symposia of our conversations--and she
resumed.
"So I will leave him to Jane at first. She will be very sisterly and
gracious, and will make the first stages of his return to the world easy
and pleasant. This may last two days, or two weeks."
"O, don't overdo it. He talked of staying but a week or ten days."
"Dear Robert, you are so innocent. He will stay as long as I want him
to."
"What, whether you notice him or not?"
"Of course. Are you six years old? Have you never seen me in action
before?"
"Body of Venus and soul of Sappho, I give it up. Of course you can do
anything you like, but I never realized that you could do it without
seeming to take a hand in the game. I strew ashes on my head like
what's-his-name, and sit down in the dust at your feet. Forgive a
penitent devotee for forming such lame and inadequate conceptions of
your power. But what part do you want me to dress for in this improving
moral drama?"
"Your part is very simple. Of course I must be occupied. I should hardly
shine as a wall-flower."
"You would shine anywhere. If you were a violet by an old stone, you
couldn't be half or a quarter hidden from the eye. But the supposition
is impossible. If you were free, no other girl in the room would have a
chance."
"That is very passable, though not wholly new. You are improving, Bob.
If you would give your mind to it, I could mould you into tolerable
manners yet.--Well, I might get plenty of men from the houses around.
But they are tiresome--staler than you, my Robert, though I see less of
them--and I can't take the same liberties with them I do with you. You
are to belong to me as long as I may want you."
"That is not new at all, Princess. It has been so for years. Everybody
about the house knows that, even the servants--and all our friends."
"Yes, of course. But I am to make special use of my property for the
next few days. You will have to be in constant attendance. You ought to
enjoy the prospect, and the reality when it comes."
"I do; I shall: bet your boots on that. O confound it, I've got my lines
mixed already."
"Rather. If you startle the audience with such a speech as that, what
will Mr. Hartman think? You must put on your prettiest behavior, Bob.
Make a desperate effort, and try to keep it up--for my sake, now."
"For your sake I can be Bayard and Crichton and Brummell and all those
dudes rolled into one. I'll order some new clothes when I go down. And
you will have to be very gracious to me, you know."
"Am I not gracious enough now, pet? How is this for a rehearsal?"
"Beyond my wildest dreams, Empress. When you treat me thus for an hour,
I can bear your ill usage for a year."
"There will be no ill usage at present, if you behave. Now don't forget,
and spoil the play. Understand, you are to pair off with me, as Mr.
Hartman with Jane. Mabel is mostly occupied with the children; we will
all look after her, of course. And there will be mixing and change of
partners, but not much. You must watch, and obey my slightest hint--the
turn of an eyelid, the flutter of a fan. I'll teach you all that."
"I know a lot of it already: when it comes to watching you, I am a
dabster. I'll behave as if I was at school to Plato and Confucius, and
in training to succeed them both. Do you know, Princess, if you were to
treat a stranger for half a day as you are treating me now, he would
want to die for you?"
"He might die for want of me before the day was over, if he grew
lackadaisical over his wants. All men are not so chivalrous as you, my
poor Robert. You may have to do that sort of dying before long. You must
be ready to be dropped when the time comes to change the figures. No
growling or moping, mind: you must submit sweetly, and take your place
in the background with Jane, while the rest of the play goes on."
"I know: I've been there before. I can find consolation in seeing you
carry the leading part. One set of men passes away, and another set
comes on; but the Princess goes on conquering, regardless of the moans
of her victims as they writhe on the bloody battlefield. O, I'm used to
being shoved aside, and feeding on my woes in silent patience. The
flowret fades when day is done, and so does every mother's son Who
thinks his course is just begun, And knows not that his race is run--How
does it go on, Clarice? I forget the rest of it."
"It is a pity you didn't forget the whole of it. I would if I were you,
and quickly, lest you horrify some one else with it. You are too big to
pose as a flowret, Bob."
"Polestar of my faith, see here. I'll have to be around with Hartman,
smoking and so on, nights, after you and the rest have turned in, and
often in the daylight. You and Jane can't attend to his case in person
all the time, you know, and I'm his host. What shall I say about you?"
"Anything you like. Praise me to the skies, of course. That will be in
keeping with your part as my cavalier; and he will see how things are
between us--on your side, I mean. Tell him about my few faults, if you
can bring yourself to mention them. Yes, you must; they will set off my
many virtues. Be perfectly natural about it: you have known and
cherished me from infancy, and so forth. Not a word, of course, about
our compact, and these rehearsals, and my coaching you--O you great
booby, were you capable of blurting that out? If you do, you'll spoil
all, and I'll never forgive you. Remember now: you profess to dread my
anger, and you have reason; you've felt it before. If you want me ever
to trust you again, keep to yourself what is between us; regard it as
sacred. O, I know you profess to look at all that belongs to me in that
light; but show your faith by your works. Swear it to me now."
I swore. That is a ceremony which has to be gone through rather
frequently with the Princess, and somehow I don't mind it. But how the
deuce is one to remember all these rules and regulations? I'll have to
get Clarice to write them out for me, by chapter and verse, with big
headings; then I'll get the thing printed, and carry it about with me,
and study it nights and mornings. But Mabel might find it in my clothes:
she is welcome to my secrets, but this is not mine. I might have it
printed in cipher; but then I should be sure to lose the key. O,
confound it all, I'll have to chance it: I'll be sure to slip up
somewhere, and then there'll be a row. Well, why borrow trouble? Let's
gather the flowers while we may: only there are none just here, and it
is too dark to find them. Then a thought suddenly struck me: why not
head off the difficulty by improving my position beforehand? "Princess
dearest, do you like me better than you used to, or is this only part
of the play, the excitement of practicing for a newcomer? Tell me,
please--there's a dear."
We were near the house now, and she darted away from me. "If you tells
me no questions, I asks you no lies," she sang gaily as she ran in. O
shades of Juliet and Cleopatra, what a woman that is--or what an idiot I
am: I can't be sure which till I get an outside opinion. I'd give odds
that within a fortnight Hartman will be far gone. It will be life or
death for him, poor old man. But he's nigh dead now, inwardly speaking,
and so has not much to lose. Anyway, he'll see that a world with Clarice
in it is not as blank and chilly as he thinks it now--not by several
thousand degrees. I fancy his thermometer will begin to go up pretty
soon. He needs shaking up and turning inside out and upside down--a
general ventilating, in fact, and I rather think Miss Elliston will
administer it to him.
VI.
PREPARATION.
I was mighty glad that Clarice felt this way about Hartman's coming; she
has not waked up so, or come down from her Olympian clouds of
indifference, in a long time. But still I thought it best to go around
and make some more preparations. When I have a secret to carry, it
oppresses my frank and open nature more than you would think; and I find
that I can conceal it best by inquiring concerning the matter of it of
persons who know nothing about it. Naturally I began with the head of
the house. That is myself, I suppose, nominally; but every decent man
allows his wife to fill the position, and get what comfort she can out
of it.
"Mabel," I said, "I hope that Hartman will enjoy himself here."
"You told us he was not given to enjoying himself; on the contrary,
quite the reverse. No doubt he will take us as he finds us. He will
hardly want to go out to dinner every day, and meet the Vanderdeck's and
the foreign princess."
"But, Mabel, I trust you are all prepared to meet him in the right
spirit."
"What absurd questions you ask, Robert. You talk as if he were a bishop,
come to convert us: I thought we were to convert him. I hope I do not
need to be instructed how to receive my husband's friends. And Jane is
ready to take an interest in him: she can be very nice, you know."
"And Clarice: will she do her part?"
"Nobody knows what Clarice will do on any occasion. She would be more
apt to do what you wish if you would not trouble her about Mr. Hartman.
We are not three little maids from school, to be taught our manners. Why
can you not learn that matters would move just as well, yes, and better,
without your continual interference, dear? Your blunders only complicate
them, and disturb the harmony."
Now that is a nice way for the wife of one's bosom to talk, isn't it?
How often, O how often, would I remove the clouds of care from her
placid brow, and smooth her path through life by graceful persiflage and
appropriate witticisms: but she does not seem to appreciate them. I fear
she must have had some Scottish ancestors. Sometimes I think she does
not appreciate _me_. It is a cold world; a cold, heartless, unfeeling,
unresponsive world, in which the sensitive spirit may fly around
promiscuously like Noah's dove, and have to stay out in a low
temperature. Wisely and beneficently is it arranged that Virtue should
be her own reward, since she gets no other. I will try Jane next.
"My dear sister, you know I go to town to-night, and expect to bring
Hartman back. You will receive him kindly, for my sake, will you not?"
Jane is a little prim at times, and I have to arrange my sentences
carefully, when I am with her.
"I will do that, of course: why so many words about it? Have you not
been preparing me, and all of us, for this visit, for the last month? We
know what is right, Robert: _your_ behavior is the only doubtful part."
"But Clarice, sister? She is always so doubtful, as Mabel says; so
capricious, so haughty, so unapproachable. You have great influence with
her. Dear Jane, can you not persuade her to treat my poor friend
kindly?"
"Now, brother, why will you be such an unconscionable humbug? We all
know that you are in her confidence, when any one is. What were you two
talking about all last evening? Hatching some plot, no doubt. But it was
not intended to be practiced on me--not on her part; that is your
unauthorized addition to her text." And the maiden assumed the part of
Pallas, and gazed at me with severity, as if she would read my inmost
soul. But she can't beat Clarice at that. See here, young lady, you are
too sharp; you are getting dangerously near the truth. I came near
saying this out, but did not. Instead I took an injured tone.
"You are a pretty sister, Jane, to go about suspecting me this way, and
accusing me of intrigue and hypocrisy, and all kinds of black-hearted
wickedness. What would I want to deceive you for? You know we all have
to consider Clarice, and humor her: she is an orphan, and we are her
nearest friends. She amuses herself with me sometimes, for want of
another man at hand, and then throws me aside when the fit is over."
"O yes, we all know that, of course. Well, brother, you can go to town
with an easy mind. Leave Mr. Hartman to Clarice and me; when she is not
in the humor to attend to him, I will."
Now how does Jane come to know so much? Has the Princess been taking her
into the plan too, as well as me? That I don't believe. Clarice would
expect Jane to take her cue by intuition, and not bother to coach her as
she has me: perhaps she can trust Jane farther. That must be it: one
woman can see into another's mind where a man couldn't. I must put a
mark on that for future reference. They do beat us at some minor points.
Well, I didn't exactly get the best of that encounter: it seems to me I
owe Jane one, which I must try and remember to pay.
VII.
INITIATION.
Hartman arrived on schedule time, and was duly taken home with me. "Old
man," I said, "welcome back to the amenities of life; to the tender
charities of man and woman; to the ties, too long neglected, which bind
your being to the world's glad heart. You are the prodigal returning
from sowing his wild oats in the backwoods: the fatted calf shall be
killed for you, in moderation, as per contract, and the home brewed ale
drawn mild. We are quiet people, and live mostly by ourselves: that will
suit your book. The giddy crowd, in its frivolous pursuit of amusement
and fashion, surges by in the immediate vicinity, and old Ocean, in his
storm-tost fury, dashes his restless waves upon our good back door, or
adjacent thereto. But we give small heed to either one of them. The sea
views and feminine costumes are supposed to be of the highest order,
and there is polo at stated intervals, if you care for such; but these
vanities have little to do with the calm current of our daily life. You
will shortly have in front of you a christian family, united in bonds of
long-tried affection and confidence. The earthly paradise, James, must
be sought in the peaceful bosom of one's Home. After tossing on the
angry billows of Water Street, how sweet to return to this haven of
rest! And you too, world-worn and weary man of woes, shall receive
attention. The furrows of care shall be smoothed out of your manly brow:
gentle hands will bind up your wounds--even the one you got from that
girl a dozen years ago, if it isn't healed yet. The shadows of gloomy
and soul-debasing Theory will flit away from your bewildered brain, and
in this healthful atmosphere your spirit will regain its long-lost tone,
and embrace once more the ethereal images of Hope and Joy and Faith.
Probably you will yet find some one to love in this wide world of
sorrow; anyway, we hope to send you forth clothed and in your right
mind."
"I hope I'm properly clothed now, or will be with what I've got in my
trunk; and I need to be in my right mind to take in all this eloquence.
I was mistaken about you, Bob; you should have been a preacher. The only
drawback is, you don't stick to one key long enough: these sudden
changes in your woodnotes wild might confuse a congregation."
"The church lacks vivacity and sense of humor, Jim: she's all for a dull
monotone. Old Fuller is dead: his mantle descended on me, but they don't
appreciate that style nowadays. To return to our topic, and deal with
the duty that lies nearest. In an humble and pottering way, we are a
happy family, James. We envy not the rich and great: seek elsewhere
their gilded saloons, and tinsel trappings of pride; but you will find
things pretty comfortable. I regret to say we'll have to do our smoking
out of doors; but it is generally warm enough for that. If we are noted
for anything, it is for modest contentment, unassuming virtue, and
cheerful candor--just as you see them in me. Each face reflects the
genuine emotions and guileless innocence of the heart connected
therewith; more than that, they reflect one another, as in a glass. You
can look at Mabel, and see all that is passing in my capacious bosom. We
share each other's woes, each other's burdens bear, and if we don't drop
the sympathizing tear frequently, it is because there is very seldom any
call for it. We have no secrets from one another: limpid and pure flows
the confidential stream--but it flows no further than the fence. You can
say what you like to any of us, and it will not go out of the
house--unless the servants overhear it; you'll have to look out for
that, of course."
"See here, Bob; judging by you, I had no idea I was coming among such
apostolic manners, or I'd have taken a course of A Kempis. Are there any
prayer-meetings near by, where I can go to freshen up?"