BY-ABBE 
 
 CARTER 
 
 GOODLOE
 
 l s>&72i<^#
 
 jf 
 
 College Girls
 
 College Girls 
 
 By 
 
 Abbe Carter Goodloe 
 
 Illustrated by 
 
 Charles Dana Gibson 
 
 New York 
 Charles Scribner's Sons 
 
 .895
 
 Copyright, 1895, by 
 Charles Scribtier's Sons 
 
 TROW DIRECTORY 
 PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 A Photograph, ' 
 
 An Aquarelle, '7 
 
 "La Belle Helene," . -37 
 As Told by Her, . ... 67 
 A Short Career, . . . 95 
 An Episode, ... . . 107 
 Her Decision, . . '45 
 Revenge, ... .163 
 The College Beauty, . .187 
 A Telephoned Telegram, . . 20) 
 "Miss Rose," .... .2/5 
 A Short Study in Evolution, . . 225 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff, . . 243 
 Time and Tide, 267
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "Is it tlm?" Frontispiece 
 
 Facing 
 page 
 
 She stopped and her face grew winter, . . 12 
 
 " They wanted him to put them in bis sto- 
 ries," 14 
 
 The political economist, .... 76 
 
 "// has been along while since you were a 
 
 student here," 7$ 
 
 "How hind you are," 90 
 
 ' ' You cannot imagine bow anxious the girls 
 
 are to see you," 174 
 
 "Play!" 776 
 
 A rather chilling influence, .... 230 
 She had stolen furtive glances at her, . .252 
 
 When the two women were within a few feet 
 
 of each other, 240
 
 A PHOTOGRAPH
 
 A PHOTOGRAPH 
 
 THERE was a great deal of jangling of bells, 
 and much laughter and talk, and the chap- 
 eron, who was an assistant Greek professor, 
 looked as if she had never heard of Aristoph- 
 anes, and listened apparently with the most 
 intense interest to a Harvard half-back eagerly 
 explaining to her the advantages of a flying 
 wedge ; and when the College loomed in sight, 
 with its hundreds of lights, and the sleigh drew 
 up under the big porte cochere, and while a hand- 
 some youth was bidding his sister, the hostess 
 of the party, an unusually affectionate good-by, 
 she explained to the rest how very sorry she 
 was she could not invite them in. But the Har- 
 vard men, in a feeling sort of way, said they 
 understood, and after much lifting of hats and 
 more laughter, the sleigh went off, and the 
 chaperon and her charges were left standing in 
 the " Centre." 
 
 She confessed then that she was extremely 
 tired and that she did not think she ever cared 
 again to see the " winter sports." She thought
 
 A Photograph 
 
 the sight afforded her that afternoon, of two nice 
 boys, very scantily clothed and with bloody 
 faces, banging away at each other until they 
 could hardly stand, compared with the view of 
 those same young gentlemen the week before at 
 the College, immaculately dressed and with very 
 good-looking noses and eyes, was entirely too 
 great a strain on her. So she went off to her 
 study and left the excited and pleased young 
 women to stroll down the corridor to Miss Ron- 
 ald's room, to talk it over and to decide for the 
 twentieth time that Somebody of '94 ought to 
 have come off winner in the fencing match, in- 
 stead of Somebody else of '93. 
 
 The room they went into was a typical college 
 room, with its bookstands and long chairs and 
 cushions and innumerable trophies, of which 
 Miss Ronald was rather proud. She was a styl- 
 ish girl, with New York manners and clothes, 
 and a pretty, rather expressionless face, strongly 
 addicted to fads, and after almost four years of 
 college life still something of a fool. She had 
 become popular through her own efforts and the 
 fact that she had a brother at Harvard. If a girl 
 really wishes to be a favorite in college she must 
 arrange to have some male relative at a neigh- 
 boring university. 
 
 The sleighing party over to Harvard for the 
 
 4
 
 A Photograph 
 
 winter sports had been an especial success, so 
 her guests took off their wraps and settled them- 
 selves in her chairs in a very cordial sort of way, 
 and discussed amiably the merits of the tug-of- 
 war, while someone made chocolate. After a 
 while, when they had all had their say about the 
 pole-vaulting and the running jumps, the con- 
 versation flagged a little and the room came in 
 for its share of attention. 
 
 There was a comparative stranger among the 
 guests a Miss Meredith to whom Miss Ronald 
 could show her numerous souvenirs for the first 
 time. She was especially glad to have them to 
 show to this particular girl because she thought 
 they would impress her although it would have 
 been a little difficult for a casual observer to 
 understand just why, for as Miss Meredith was 
 led around the room by her hostess, from the 
 screen made of cotillion favors and the collec- 
 tion of lamp-post signs presented to her by 
 Harvard admirers afflicted with kleptomania, 
 over to the smoking-cap and tobacco-pouch of 
 some smitten undergraduate, anyone could see 
 what a handsome girl she was, and though more 
 plainly dressed than the others, that she seemed 
 to be thoroughly at her ease. Perhaps Miss 
 Ronald expected her to be impressed because 
 she had taken her up, and had first introduced 
 5
 
 A Photograph 
 
 her to this set and made a success of her. No 
 one had known anything about her or her peo- 
 ple, and she had entered shortly before as a 
 " special student," and therefore belonged to no 
 particular class. She was evidently a little older 
 than Miss Konald and her friends, and her face 
 was somewhat sad, and there was a thoughtful 
 look in the eyes. She seemed to be rather 
 haughty, too, and as if afraid she would be 
 patronized. But Miss Ronald, whose particular 
 craze in the beauty line was a cream complexion, 
 gray eyes, and red-brown hair, had declared the 
 new-comer to be lovely, and even after she had 
 discovered that this handsome girl was not of 
 her own social standing, that her people were 
 unknown and unimportant, she still declared her 
 intention of cultivating her. She had found this 
 harder to do than she had expected, and so, as 
 she led her around the room, she rather delighted 
 in the belief that she was impressing this girl 
 by the many evidences of a gay social career. 
 
 The others, who had seen all the trophies 
 many times before, and who knew just which 
 one of Miss Ronald's admirers had given her the 
 Harvard blazer, and where she had got the Yale 
 flag and the mandolin with the tiger-head painted 
 on it for Miss Ronald, being a wise young lady, 
 cultivated friends in every college sat back and 
 
 6
 
 A Photograph 
 
 talked among themselves and paid very little 
 attention to what the other two were doing. 
 They were a little startled, therefore, by a low 
 exclamation from the girl with Miss Ronald. 
 She had stopped before a long photograph-case 
 filled with pictures of first violins and celebrated 
 actors and college men all the mute evidences 
 of various passing fancies. Miss Eonald, who 
 was putting away the faded remains of some 
 " Tree-flowers " and some pictures of Hasty Pud- 
 ding theatricals, looked over at the girl. 
 
 " What is it ? " she said, carelessly, and then 
 noting her pallor and the direction of her gaze 
 she laughed in an embarrassed little way and 
 went over to her. 
 
 " Is it this ? " she said, taking a half-hidden 
 photograph from among the jumble of pictures 
 and holding it up to the view of all. 
 
 It was the photograph of a young man, a suc- 
 cessful man, whose name had become suddenly 
 famous and whose personality was as potent as 
 his talents. He was not handsome, but his fine 
 face was more attractive than a handsome one 
 would have been. There was a look of deter- 
 mination in the firmly closed lips and square- 
 cut jaw, and an indefinable air of the man of 
 the world about the face which rendered it ex- 
 tremely fascinating. On the lower edge of the 
 
 7
 
 A Photograph 
 
 picture was written his name, in a strong, bold 
 hand that corresponded with the look on the 
 face. 
 
 " My latest craze," said Miss Ronald, smiling 
 rather nervously and coloring a little as she still 
 held the picture up. There was a slight and 
 awkward pause, and then half a dozen hands 
 reached for it. There was not a girl in the 
 room who had not heard of this man and wished 
 she knew him, and who had not read his last 
 book and the latest newspaper paragraphs about 
 him. But their interest had been of the secretly 
 admiring order, and they all felt this girl was 
 going a little too far, that it was not just the 
 thing to have his picture the picture of a man 
 she did not know. And as she looked around 
 and met the gray eyes of the girl beside her she 
 felt impelled to explain her position as if in an- 
 swer to the unspoken scorn in them. She was 
 embarrassed and rather angry that it had all 
 happened. She could laugh at the first-violins 
 and the opera-tenors and the English actor 
 they had only been silly fancies but this one 
 was different. Without knowing this man she 
 had felt an intense interest in him and his face 
 had fascinated her, and she had persuaded her- 
 self that he was her ideal and that she could 
 easily care for him. She suddenly realized how 
 6
 
 A Photograph 
 
 childish she had been and the ridiculousness of 
 it all, and it angered her. 
 
 " Of course I know it isn't nice to have his 
 picture in this way " she began defiantly, 
 " but I know his cousin it was from him that I 
 got this photograph and he has promised to 
 introduce us next winter." She seemed to for- 
 get her momentary embarrassment and looked 
 very much elated. "Won't that be exciting? 
 I shan't know in the least what to say to him. 
 Think of meeting the most fascinating man in 
 New York!" 
 
 " Be sure you recognize him," murmured one 
 of the girls, gloomily, from the depths of a 
 steamer-chair. " I met him last winter. I had 
 never seen a photograph of him then, and not 
 knowing he was the one, I talked to him for half 
 an hour. "When I found out after he had gone 
 who he was, I couldn't get over my stupidity. 
 My mother was angry with me, I can tell you ! " 
 
 Each one knew something about him, or knew 
 someone who knew him, or the artist who illus- 
 trated his stories, or the people with whom he 
 had just gone abroad, or into what thousandth 
 his last book had got. They all thought him a 
 hero and fascinatingly handsome, and they de- 
 clared with the sentimental candor of the very 
 young girl, that they would never marry unless 
 9
 
 A Photograph 
 
 they could marry a man like that a man who 
 had accomplished great things and had a future 
 before him, and who was so clever and interest- 
 ing and distinguished-looking. 
 
 The girl who had had the singular good fort- 
 une to meet him was besieged with questions as 
 to his looks and manner of talking, and personal 
 preferences, to all of which she answered with a 
 fine disregard for facts and a volubility out of 
 all proportion to her knowledge. They won- 
 dered whether his play he had just written one, 
 and the newspapers were saying a great deal 
 about its forthcoming production would be as 
 interesting as his stories, and they all hoped it 
 would be given in New York during the Christ- 
 mas holidays, and they declared that they would 
 not miss it for anything. 
 
 Only one girl sat silent, her gray eyes bright 
 with scorn she let them talk on. Their opin- 
 ions about his looks, and whether he was con- 
 ceited or only properly sensible of his successes, 
 and whether the report was true that he was go- 
 ing to Japan in the spring, seemed indifferent 
 to her. She sat white and unsmiling through 
 all their girlish enthusiasm and sentimental 
 talk about this unknown god and their ideals 
 and their expectations for the future and when 
 the photograph, which had been passed from 
 10
 
 A Photograph 
 
 hand to hand, reached her, she let it fall idly in 
 her lap as though she could not bear to touch 
 it. As it lay there, a hard look caine into her 
 face. When she glanced up, she found Miss 
 Ronald gazing at her with a curious, petulant 
 expression. 
 
 Suddenly she got up and a look of determina- 
 tion was upon her face and in her eyes. Their 
 talk was all very childish and silly, but she could 
 see that beneath their half-laughing manner 
 there was a touch of seriousness. This man, 
 with his fine face and his successes and personal 
 magnetism, had exercised a strange fascination 
 over them, and most of all over the pretty, senti- 
 mental girl looking with such a puzzled expres- 
 sion at her. 
 
 After all, this girl had been good to her. She 
 would do what she could. She stood tall and 
 straight against the curtains of the window fac- 
 ing the rest and breathing quickly. 
 
 " Yes I know of him," she said, answering 
 their unspoken inquiry. " You think you know 
 him through his books and the reviews and 
 newspaper notices of him." Her voice was ring- 
 ing now and she touched the picture lightly and 
 scornfully with her finger. 
 
 " I know him better than that. I know things 
 of him that will not be told in newspaper para- 
 11
 
 A Photograph 
 
 graphs and book reviews." She paused and her 
 face grew whiter. "You read his stories, and 
 because they are the best of their kind, the most 
 correct, the most interesting, because his men 
 are the men you like to know, men who are al- 
 ways as they should be to men, because there 
 is an atmosphere of refinement and elegance 
 and pleasing conventionality about them you 
 think they must be the reflex of himself. O yes ! 
 I know the very last story you have all read 
 it who could be more magnificent and correct 
 than Roscommon ? And you think Mm like his 
 hero ! There is not one of you but would feel 
 flattered at his attentions, you might easily fall 
 in love with him I dare say you would scarcely 
 refuse him and yet " she broke off suddenly. 
 
 " There was a girl," she began after a moment's 
 hesitation, in a tone from which all the excite- 
 ment had died, " a friend of mine, and she loved 
 him. Perhaps you do not know that before he 
 became famous he lived in a small Western 
 town she lived there too. They grew up to- 
 gether, and she was as proud of him well, you 
 know probably just how proud a girl can be of 
 a boy who has played with her and scolded her 
 and tyrannized over her and protected her and 
 afterward loved her. For he did love her. He 
 told her so a thousand times and he showed it 
 12
 
 SHE STOPPED AND HER FACE 
 GREW WHITER
 
 A Photograph 
 
 to lier in a thousand ways. And she loved him ! 
 I cannot tell you what he was to her." They 
 were all looking curiously at her white face and 
 she tried to speak still more calmly. 
 
 " Well, after a time his ambition for he was 
 very ambitious and very talented made him 
 restless. He wanted to go East he thought he 
 would succeed. She let him go freely, willingly. 
 His success was hers, he said. Everything he 
 was to do was for her, and she let him go, and 
 she told him then that he could be free. But 
 he was very angry. He said that he would 
 never have thought of going but to be better 
 worthy of her. He succeeded you know the 
 world knows how well he has succeeded, and the 
 world likes success, and what wonder that he 
 forgot her. She was handsome at least her 
 friends told her so but she was not like the 
 girls he knows now. She was not rich, and she 
 had never been used to the life of luxury and 
 worldliness to which he had so quickly accus- 
 tomed himself. But," she went on, protestingly, 
 as if in reply to some unspoken argument or 
 some doubt that had assailed her, "she could 
 have been all he wished her. She was quick 
 and good to look at, and well-bred. She could 
 have easily learned the world's ways the ways 
 that have become so vital to him."
 
 A Photograph 
 
 She stopped, and then went on with an air of 
 careful impartiality, as if trying to be just, to 
 look at both sides of the question, and her beau- 
 tiful face grew whiter with the effort. 
 
 " But, of course, she was not like the girls he 
 had met. He used to write to her at first how 
 disgusted he was when those elegant young 
 ladies would pet him and make much of him and 
 use him and his time as they did everything else 
 in their beautiful, idle lives. He did not like 
 it, he said ; and then I suppose it amused him, 
 and then fascinated him. They would not let 
 him alone. They wanted him to put them in 
 his stories, and he had to go to their dinners 
 and to the opera with them. He said they 
 wanted someone to * show off' ; and at first he 
 resented it, but little by little he came to like it 
 and to find it the life he had needed and longed 
 for, and to forget and despise the simpler one 
 he had known in his youth " 
 
 She stopped again and pulled nervously at 
 the silk fringe of the curtain, and looked at the 
 strained faces of the girls as if asking them 
 whether she had been just in her way of putting 
 the thing. And then she hurried on. 
 
 " And so she released him. He had not been 
 back in two years not since he had first gone 
 away, and she knew it would be easier to do it 
 
 14
 
 A Photograph 
 
 before she saw him again. And so when she 
 heard of his success and how popular he was, 
 and that he was the most talked about of all the 
 younger authors, she wrote him that she could 
 not be his wife. But she loved him, and she let 
 him see it in the letter. She bent her pride that 
 far and she was a proud girl ! She told her- 
 self over and over that he was not worthy of her 
 that success had made a failure of him, but 
 she loved him still and she let him see it. She 
 determined to give him and herself that chance. 
 If he stih 1 loved her he would know from that 
 letter that she, too, loved him. Well, his answer 
 she told me that his answer was very cold and 
 short. That if she wished to give him up he 
 knew she must have some good reason." 
 
 Someone stirred uneasily, and gave a breath- 
 less sort of gasp. 
 
 "That was hard," she went on. She was 
 speaking now in an impassive sort of way. " But 
 that was not the hardest. She saw him again. 
 
 It was not long ago " She stopped and put 
 
 one hand to her throat. " She had gone away. 
 She desired to become what ho had wished she 
 was, although she could never be anything to 
 him again, and she was succeeding, and thought 
 that perhaps she would forget and be happ} r . 
 But he found out where she was, and went to 
 
 15
 
 A Photograph 
 
 her. Something had gone wrong with him. You 
 remember he was reported to be engaged to a 
 young girl very well known in society the 
 daughter of a senator, and a great beauty. "Well, 
 there was some mistake. He came straight to 
 my friend and told her that he did not know 
 what he had been doing, that she was the only 
 girl he had ever loved and he asked her forgive- 
 ness. He told her that his life would be worth- 
 less and mined, that his success would mean 
 less than nothing to him if she did not love him, 
 and he implored her to be what she had once 
 been to him and to marry him." 
 
 Miss Ronald looked up quickly, and the petu- 
 lant expression in her eyes had given place to a 
 look of disdain. 
 
 " What did she say then? " she asked. 
 
 The girl shook her head, mournfully. 
 
 " She could not," she said, simply. " She 
 would have given her soul to have been able to 
 say yes, but she could not ! " 
 
 When the door had quite closed behind her, 
 they sat silent and hushed. Suddenly Miss 
 Eonald walked over to the window, and picking 
 up the photograph where it had fallen, face 
 downward, she tore it into little bits. 
 
 16
 
 AN AQUARELLE 

 
 AN AQUARELLE 
 
 A LL AKDTCE felt both aggrieved and bored 
 JT\ when lie found that his sister had gone off 
 with a walking-party and was not likely to re- 
 turn for an hour or two. He had this unwel- 
 come bit of news from the young woman in cap 
 and gown who had come from the office into the 
 reception-room and was standing before him, 
 glancing every now and then from his face to 
 the card she held, with a severely kind look out 
 of her gray eyes. 
 
 " I telegraphed her I was in Boston and would 
 be out," remarked Allardyce, in an injured tone. 
 
 " Yes," assented the young woman, " Miss 
 Allardyce had left word in the office that she 
 was expecting her brother, but that as he had 
 not come by the 2.30 or 3.10 train, she had con- 
 cluded he was detained in Boston, and that if 
 he did arrive later he was to wait." She added 
 that he would be obliged to do so in any case, as 
 there was no express back to Boston for two 
 hours, and that if he would like to see the col- 
 
 19
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 lege while lie waited she would send someone 
 to take him over it. 
 
 But Allardyce seemed so doubtful as to 
 whether he cared to become better acquainted 
 with the architecture of the college, and so dis- 
 appointed about it all, that the kindly senior felt 
 sorry for him and suggested sympathetically that 
 he " might amuse himself by strolling through the 
 grounds." She could not have been over twenty, 
 but she had all the seriousness and responsi- 
 bility of an undergraduate, and Allardyce sud- 
 denly felt very young and foolish in her presence 
 and wondered hotly how old she thought he 
 was, and why she hadn't told him to " run out 
 and play." He decided that her idea was a 
 good one, however, so he took his hat and stick 
 and wandered down the south corridor to the 
 piazza. Standing there he could see the lake 
 and the many private boats lying in the bend of 
 the shore, each fastened to its little dock, and 
 beyond, the boat-house with the class practice- 
 barges, slim and long, just visible in the cool 
 darkness beneath. He thought it all looked 
 very inviting, and there was a rustic bench un- 
 der a big tree half-way down the hill where he 
 could smoke and get a still better view of the 
 water. 
 
 So he settled himself quite comfortably, lit a 
 20
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 cigarette, and looked gloomily out over the lake. 
 He assured himself bitterly that after haying 
 been abroad for so many years, and after having 
 inconvenienced himself by taking a boat to Bos- 
 ton instead of a Cunarder to New York his 
 natural destination in order to see his sister, 
 that she was extremely unkind not to have 
 waited for him. He was deep in the mental com- 
 position of a most reproachful note to her when 
 he discovered that by closing his eyes a little 
 and looking intently at the Italian Gardens on 
 the opposite side of the water, he could easily 
 fancy himself at a little place he knew on Lake 
 Maggiore. This afforded him amusement for a 
 while, but it soon palled on him, and he was 
 beginning to wonder moodily how he was ever 
 to get through two hours of the afternoon, when 
 he saw a young girl come out of the boat-house 
 with a pair of sculls and make her way to one of 
 the little boats. She leaned over it, and Allar- 
 dyce could see that she was trying to fit a key 
 into the padlock which fastened the boat to its 
 dock, and that after several attempts to undo it 
 she looked rather hopelessly at the lock and 
 heavy chain. He went quickly down the hill 
 and along the shore. He was suddenly ex- 
 tremely glad that he was in America, where he 
 could be permitted to speak to and help a girl, 
 21
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 even if a total stranger, without having his assist- 
 ance interpreted as an insult. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said, lifting his hat. 
 "Can I be of any help?" 
 
 The girl looked up a little startled, but when 
 she saw the tall, good-looking youth, she smiled 
 in a relieved sort of way and rose quickly from 
 her knees. 
 
 " Indeed, yes," she said, without any embar- 
 rassment. " I can't unlock this ; perhaps you 
 can." 
 
 Allardyce took the key, and kneeling down 
 fitted it in its place and turned it with very lit- 
 tle effort. The girl looked rather ruefully at 
 him as he jumped up. 
 
 " Thank you," she said in a politely distant 
 way. " I don't see why I could not have done 
 that. I am very strong in my hands, too." 
 
 Allardyce smiled indulgently. All girls were 
 under the impression that they were strong. At 
 any rate this one was tremendously pretty, ho 
 decided much prettier than the stately senior 
 he had encountered up at the college, and he was 
 glad there were no cap and gown this time. He 
 was aware, of course, that he ought to lift his 
 hat and move on, and not stand there staring at 
 her, but his previous solicitude had made him 
 feel sociable. 
 
 23
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 " Perhaps you will let me put the oars in for 
 you," he suggested. He was rather alarmed 
 after he had spoken, but when he glanced at the 
 girl to see how she had taken his further self- 
 invited assistance he found her looking at him 
 in a very friendly way. All at once he felt quite 
 elated and at his ease. It had been a long while 
 since he had had much to do with American 
 girls, and he concluded that all that had been 
 said about their charming freedom and cordial- 
 ity of manner had not been exaggerated. But 
 when he had put the sculls in the boat it oc- 
 curred to him that it would not do to presume 
 too far on that freedom and cordiality, and that 
 if he was not to depart immediately and he 
 felt no inclination to do so he must offer some 
 sort of explanation of himself. 
 
 "I am waiting for my sister," he remarked 
 genially. 
 
 " Oh ! your sister," echoed the girl. 
 
 " Yes Miss Allardyce. Perhaps you are in 
 the same class," he hazarded. 
 
 She looked at him for a moment in a slightly 
 surprised way, and then out across the water, 
 and Allardyce saw, as she turned her head away 
 from him, that she was smiling. 
 
 " No," she said slowly, " but I know her quite 
 well." 
 
 23
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 " Ah ! I'm glad of that," said the young man, 
 boldly and cheerfully. " Now I feel quite as if I 
 had been properly introduced ! ' Les amis de 
 nos amis,' you know ! " 
 
 The girl smiled back at him. " I am Miss 
 Brent. By the way, your sister has the distinc- 
 tion of being the only Allardyce in college. It's 
 a rather unusual name." 
 
 "Yes," assented Allardyce, delightedly. 
 " Scotch, you know." And then in a sudden 
 burst of confidence " My people were Scotch 
 and French. I have been educated abroad and 
 have come home for the law course at the Uni- 
 versity. Awfully glad to be in America again, 
 too, for, after all, I am an American through and 
 through." He pulled himself up sharply in some 
 confusion and amusement at his unusual loquac- 
 ity. 
 
 But the girl before him did not seem to find 
 it strange, and was quite interested and politely 
 attentive. 
 
 " And where is your sister ? " she demanded. 
 
 " Oh, that's the essential, and I forgot to men- 
 tion it," he replied, laughing a little and digging 
 his stick into the soft earth. " She's gone off 
 walking ! " and then he went on insinuatingly 
 and plaintively " And I don't know a soul 
 here never was here before in my life and 
 
 24
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 there's no train to Boston, and I have to wait 
 two hours for her ! " 
 
 The young woman smiled sympathetically. 
 " That's too bad," she said, and then she looked 
 doubtfully at Allardyce. He seemed very 
 young and to be having a rather bad time of it, 
 and there is an unwritten law at the college 
 which constitutes every member of it the natu- 
 ral protector and entertainer of lost or bored 
 strangers. 
 
 " I am going across the lake for water-lilies," 
 she went on after a little hesitation. " If you 
 care to come you may, and pull me about while 
 I gather them. It is hard work to do it alone." 
 
 " You are very kind," said Allardyce promptly, 
 " and it is very nice of you to put it that way. 
 It will be a great favor to me to let me go." 
 
 He rowed her across the water in the direc- 
 tion of the Italian Gardens, and they found a 
 good deal to say to each other, and she seemed 
 very unaffected and friendly, although Allardyce 
 fancied once or twice that when she replied to 
 some of his remarks her voice trembled in an 
 odd way as if she were secretly amused. But 
 he thought her delightful, and he was very much 
 obliged to her for taking him off his hands in 
 this way, though he could not help feeling some 
 surprise at her invitation. Of course he could 
 
 25
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 not imagine such a thing happening to him on 
 the Continent. No French or German girl would 
 have the chance or enough savoirfaire to treat 
 him as this girl was treating him. He told her 
 all this in more veiled terms when they had 
 reached the water-lilies, and he had turned 
 around in his seat and was carefully balancing 
 the boat while she pulled the dripping, long- 
 stemmed flowers. Miss Brent laughed outright 
 at his remarks, and Allardyce laughed good-nat- 
 uredly too, although what he had said did not 
 strike him as being at all amusing. But he 
 was glad that she was so easily diverted. He 
 reflected that perhaps her invitation had not 
 been entirely disinterested that she considered 
 it as stupid to go out rowing alone, as he did to 
 wander around the college without his sister 
 and that as she had been kind enough to save 
 him from a solitary afternoon, it was his part to 
 be as amusing and entertaining as possible. 
 
 "You must not consider us in the light of 
 very young girls," she explained. " You know 
 this is a woman's college." 
 
 " That's what is so nice," returned Allardyce 
 confidently. " You are girls with the brains and 
 attainments of women. That is a very delight- 
 ful combination." He gave her an openly ad- 
 miring, rather patronizing glance. He did not 
 
 26
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 mean to be superior or condescending, but he 
 reflected that in spite of her ease of manner she 
 was yet in college, and so must be very young. 
 He seemed to himself to be quite old and world- 
 worn in comparison. 
 
 Miss Brent looked over at the college tower- 
 ing up on the other side of the lake. 
 
 " How do you like it ? " she asked politely, 
 after a moment's silence. 
 
 "Oh, I didn't see anything of it," replied Al- 
 lardyce easily, leaning his elbows comfortably 
 on the unshipped oars. "I got my walking 
 papers promptly from a young woman up there, 
 and so I left. She rather frightened me, you 
 know," he ran on. "Awfully severe-looking, 
 cap and gown, and that sort of thing. I thought 
 if that was only an undergraduate I didn't want 
 to encounter any of the teachers professors, I 
 believe you call them and so I fled. You do 
 have women prof essors, don't you? " he inquired 
 with a great deal of awe. 
 
 " Yes," said the girl. 
 
 " Well they must be pretty awful," he said 
 cheerfully, after a moment's pause. 
 
 The girl straightened up cautiously, pulling 
 at the rubber-like stem of an immense lily. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," she said carelessly. She 
 was bending over the side of the boat, and Allar- 
 
 27
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 dyce could not see her face ; but he heard the 
 laugh in her voice again. " There ! there's a 
 boutonniere for you." 
 
 Allardyce caught the lily she swung toward 
 him by the stem, and stuck it in his coat. 
 
 " I suppose that's about the size of the Rus- 
 sian Giant's button-hole flower," he remarked 
 frivolously. They were quite good friends now. 
 Allardyce looked over at the college again. 
 
 " You must find it pretty slow up there," he 
 said confidentially. "Can't imagine how you 
 girls exist. You ought to go to a Paris boarding- 
 school. You can have no end of fun there, you 
 know." He was nodding his head enthusias- 
 tically at her. " I have a cousin at one in the 
 Avenue Marceau. Went to see her just before 
 I sailed and it was tremendously amusing. 
 These French girls are awful flirts! When I 
 went away every girl in that school came to the 
 windows and looked at me. It was rather try- 
 ing, but I felt that for once I knew what popu- 
 larity was ! " 
 
 Miss Brent buried her face in the biggest lily 
 of the bunch. 
 
 " And and what did you do ? " she inquired, 
 in suppressed tones. 
 
 "Oh I? Why I bowed and smiled at the 
 whole lot. Must have looked rather like an 
 
 28
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 idiot, now I come to think of it ; and my cousin 
 wrote me she got into no end of trouble about it. 
 One of the mattresses happened to see me. 
 But it was great fun while it lasted. And after 
 all where is the harm of a little flirting?" he 
 concluded, judicially. 
 
 " Where indeed ? " assented the girl, with a 
 laugh. 
 
 " That's right I am glad to hear you 
 say that," broke in Allardyce, approvingly. 
 " There's something wrong with a woman who 
 doesn't cry or flirt it's a part of her nature," 
 he went on, with the air of having made a pro- 
 foundly philosophic discovery. " You know 
 you agree with me," he urged, insinuatingly. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "Personally I don't know," she said; "you 
 see I am so busy " 
 
 " Oh ! I say," cried Allardyce, " you don't 
 mean you study as hard as that ! Of course," he 
 added impartially, " it's all very well for some 
 girls to grind " he stopped in alarm as the girl 
 drew herself up slightly. 
 
 " I hope my sister doesn't study too much," 
 he hastened to add, lamely. 
 
 Miss Brent put her handkerchief suddenly to 
 her lips, which were trembling with laughter. 
 
 " I don't think you need worry ! " she said. 
 
 29
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 Allardyce was considerably mystified and a 
 little offended. 
 
 " But she's very bright," added the girl, 
 quickly; "especially in mathematics, where I 
 see most of her ; but I believe she is not a very 
 hard student." 
 
 "Well," said Allardyce, jocosely; "I'll tell 
 you a secret. I am the hard student of the fam- 
 ily, and that's much better than that my sister 
 should be, I think. I don't approve of girls 
 working too hard. It makes them old takes 
 away their freshness especially if they go in 
 for mathematics. Do you know I have never 
 been able to imagine a girl mathematician 
 anyway," he ran on, confidentially. "Always 
 seemed like a sort of joke. Now there was that 
 English girl what was her name, who was 
 worse than a senior wrangler? Her photo- 
 graphs were just everywhere. I was in Cam- 
 bridge that summer and they were in all the 
 shop-windows, and I would stop and look care- 
 fully to see if they were not different from the 
 ones I had seen the day before. For they were 
 quite pretty you know, and I was always hoping 
 that there was some mistake and that they had 
 got some other young woman, entirely innocent, 
 mixed up with her." 
 
 There was so much genuine distress in his 
 
 30
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 tone that Miss Brent made an heroic attempt not 
 to laugh. 
 
 " Well," she exclaimed, " don't say that 
 some people think I am good at mathematics 
 myself." 
 
 Allardyce shook his head at her. " I'm sure 
 it's a mistake you are trying to impose on me," 
 he said, with mock severity. " At any rate I 
 am glad my sister is guiltless of any such accu- 
 sation. We are under the impression that she 
 goes in for a good time at college at least one 
 would suppose so from her letters. I got one 
 from her just before I left Paris in which she 
 gave me a very amusing account of some blow- 
 out here some class function or other, and she 
 seemed dreadfully afraid that the faculty would 
 get hold of the details. She says you stand 
 tremendously in awe of your faculty. Wait a 
 minute I've got the letter here somewhere," 
 he went on, fumbling in his pockets. " Didn't 
 think much of the affair considered in the light 
 of a scrape, but she seemed to think it exciting 
 and dangerous to the last degree. That's where 
 you girls are so funny you think you are doing 
 something immensely wrong and it is just noth- 
 ing at all. I see I haven't the letter with me ; 
 but perhaps you were in it all and know a great 
 deal more about it than I do."
 
 Miss Brent suddenly twisted herself around 
 in the boat, and reached for an especially big 
 lily. 
 
 No" she said, " I I don't think I was 
 there. "Will you pull a little on the left oar a 
 little more, please. It's that lily I want ! " 
 
 " There's another thing about girls," resumed 
 Allardyce meditatively and kindly, when the 
 boat had straightened back. " You seem to 
 think it a terrible calamity, a disgrace, to get 
 plucked in an examination. Now a man takes 
 it philosophically. Of course, it isn't a thing 
 one especially cares to have happen one ; but it 
 doesn't destroy a fellow's interest in life, nor 
 make him feel particularly ashamed of himself. 
 He just goes to work with a tutor and hopes 
 for better luck next time. That's the best 
 way to take it, don't you think ? But perhaps 
 you don't know anything about it. Ever get 
 plucked ? I beg your pardon," he added has- 
 tily. 
 
 But the girl did not appear at all offended. 
 
 " Oh, you mustn't ask that," she said, leaning 
 back and laughing at him ; " at any rate," she 
 added, with an air of careful consideration, " I 
 don't think I ever got ' plucked ' in mathemat- 
 ics. And now you must take me back." 
 
 Allardyce gave a shudder of mock horror. 
 
 33
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 " Oh, mathematics ! " he said, picking up the 
 oars. 
 
 When they were half-way across the lake 
 Allardyce saw a young girl standing on the 
 shore waving at them. 
 
 " Why," he said, looking intently at the figure, 
 " I believe it is my sister." 
 
 Miss Brent leaned forward. 
 
 " Yes, it is your sister," she said slowly, and 
 she smiled a little. 
 
 Miss Allardyce kissed her brother with a great 
 show of affection, and told him how sorry she 
 was to have missed him. " And I am sure it 
 was very good of you to have taken care of him," 
 she went on impressively and gratefully, turning 
 to Miss Brent. But that young lady disclaimed 
 any merit. 
 
 " We've had a delightful afternoon," she de- 
 clared, " and your brother has been very good 
 to pull me about and keep the boat from tip- 
 ping over, while I gathered these lilies. I am 
 very glad to have met him. Good afternoon." 
 
 " Charming girl ! " murmured Allardyce, ap- 
 preciatively, digging his stick in the earth, and 
 leaning on it as he looked after Miss Brent. 
 
 " We had an awfully jolly time together," he 
 went on, to the girl beside him ; " sort of water- 
 picnic, without the picnic." 
 
 33
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 Miss Allardyce looked sharply at her brother. 
 Something in his manner made her anxious. 
 " How did you meet her ? " she demanded. 
 
 " Oh ! that's the best part," said Allardyce joy- 
 ously. " Wasn't introduced at all. I offered to 
 unlock her boat for her, and I liked her looks so 
 much that I hated to go away, so I asked her if 
 she was in your class, and she said ' No,' but that 
 she knew you, and that I considered was intro- 
 duction enough. We just went off together and 
 had a very good time. Lucky for me that some- 
 body took me up when my own sister went off 
 and left me," he added reproachfully. 
 
 Miss Allardyce shook her head impatiently. 
 " Never mind about me." She looked anxiously 
 at her brother. " What did you say to her ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I don't remember exactly ; " he replied 
 vaguely and cheerfully. "We talked a good 
 deal at least / did," with a sudden realization 
 of how he had monopolized the conversation. 
 "About French boarding-schools and women 
 professors and getting plucked in examinations, 
 and I told her about that scrape you wrote me 
 of. She hasn't a bit of nonsense about her," he 
 went on enthusiastically. " She didn't say much, 
 but I am sure she agreed with me that girls are 
 by nature flirts, and not mathematicians." 
 
 Miss Allardyce gave a little gasp. " Well," 
 
 34
 
 An Aquarelle 
 
 she said, with a sort of desperate calmness, 
 " you've done it now ! Do you know who that 
 was you were talking too ? That was the assist- 
 ant-professor of mathematics. Oh ! yes, I know 
 she looks awfully young, and she is young. I 
 suppose you think a woman has to be fifty be- 
 fore she knows anything. Why she only took 
 her degree two years ago, and she was so tre- 
 mendously clever that she went off and studied 
 a year in Leipsic and then came back as in- 
 structor in mathematics, and this year when one 
 of the assistant-professors was called suddenly 
 to Europe, she was made assistant-professor in 
 her place, and they say she's been a most won- 
 derful success. And I know she is pretty ; but 
 that doesn't prevent her examinations from being 
 terrors, and I didn't get through the last one at 
 all, and if you told her about that scrape, and 
 
 that women ought not to be mathematicians " 
 
 she stopped breathlessly and in utter despair. 
 
 Allardyce whistled softly and then struck his 
 stick sharply against the side of the little dock. 
 " Well," he exclaimed indignantly, " she's most 
 deceitfully young and pretty," and then he 
 turned reproachfully upon his sister. " It's all 
 your fault," he said ; " what did you go off walk- 
 ing for?" 
 
 35
 
 "LA BELLE HELENE
 
 "LA BELLE HfiLENE" 
 
 Mrs. Olmsted Morrison to Mrs. Franklin Ben- 
 nett, Rhinebeck-on-Hudson 
 
 BALTIMORE, October 20th. 
 
 MY DEABEST ALMA: As we have been 
 confiding our joys and woes to each 
 other for the last twenty-five years, it is to you 
 I naturally write about this new trial which has 
 come into my life. You will probably think it 
 pen de chose, but I assure you, my dear, that if 
 you really and truly put yourself in my place 
 you will realize that it is an annoyance. 
 Henry's child has at last written to me that she 
 " has finished her studies for the present " (!) 
 and is coming to America to spend the winter 
 with us. You must see, Alma, that this is 
 slightly appalling. I have never seen her not 
 since she was a little thing with enormous gray 
 eyes and a freckled nose and I know absolutely 
 nothing about her except what Henry wrote me 
 from time to time, when he stopped his eternal 
 
 39
 
 La Belle Httone " 
 
 wanderings long enough to remember he had a 
 sister. But judging by the education he gave 
 her and I consider it simply deplorable and 
 the evident taste she had for it, and later for 
 " the higher education of woman," I feel dis- 
 tressingly positive that I cannot approve of the 
 child. I am very sorry now that I did not 
 make an effort to go to her when her father 
 died in England, five years ago, but she wrote 
 me that she had friends there who were doing 
 everything for her, and that she was coming di- 
 rectly to America to enter college according to 
 her father's wishes, and that there was really no 
 need to disturb myself about her. I could see, 
 Alma, the effect of the independent, strange ex- 
 istence she had led, in that letter. It repelled 
 me. Now, Eleanor, I am sure, would have been 
 completely prostrated, the dear child ! 
 
 So she came directly to Boston, and I, being 
 so busy with my own preparations for taking 
 Eleanor and Margaret to Paris, simply could 
 not arrange to go on to Boston to see her. As 
 of course you know, we remained abroad four 
 years, and last year, when we returned and I ex- 
 pected to see Helen at last, she wrote me a letter 
 which I got just before leaving Paris, saying 
 that she had decided to go to Oxford for a year 
 to take a course in mathematical astronomy at 
 
 40
 
 La Belle Helene " 
 
 the Lady Margaret Hall. So we passed each 
 other in mid-ocean. 
 
 Fancy, Alma ! I knew when I read that letter 
 what kind of a girl she was. One of your hard 
 students, engrossed in books, without one 
 thought for dress or social manners! I am 
 afraid she will prove a severe trial. And just 
 when Eleanor is counting on having such a gay 
 second winter and Margaret is to debut. It is 
 a little hard, is it not, dear ? Thank Heaven, I 
 shall never have to blame myself as Henry would 
 have to do if he were alive. At least / have seen 
 to it that my daughters have had the education 
 which will fit them to ornament society, the edu- 
 cation that I still believe in notwithstanding all 
 this talk of colleges for women and advance- 
 ment in learning, and college settlements and 
 extensions, and Heaven knows what besides ! 
 
 J/// girls have had first, the best of training at 
 Mrs. Meed's, and then four years at Les Oiseaux, 
 you know. They speak French perfectly, of 
 course, and Margaret has even tried Italian and 
 German. They both ride and drive well, and 
 Eleanor plays and sings very sweetly. But 
 what is the use of my telling you about them 
 when you know them so well ? 
 
 I only wish, Alma, you could tell me some- 
 thing about Helen ! Just think, I have never even 
 
 41
 
 " La Belle Hellm " 
 
 seen a photograph of her ! It is one of her fads 
 not to have them taken, from which I argue 
 that she is very homely, very opinionated, and 
 very strange. Eleanor has two dozen in differ- 
 ent poses, I am sure. The only information I 
 have at all about Helen's looks is from Marga- 
 ret, who saw her for an hour in Brookline it 
 was five years ago just before we sailed. She 
 had run up to see a Boston friend for a few days, 
 and of course she was very young and has prob- 
 ably forgotten, but she insists that Helen was 
 rather pretty. However, I do not attach the 
 least importance to what Margaret says, because, 
 as you know, she is so good-natured that she 
 always says the best of everyone ; and then her 
 tastes are sometimes really deplorable so un- 
 like Eleanor's! Besides, her description of 
 Helen does not sound like that of a pretty girl. 
 She says she wore her hair parted and back 
 from her face, and was slightly near-sighted. 
 Think of it, Alma ! For the hair, encore passe, 
 Mr. Gibson and Mr. Wenzell have made that so 
 much the fashion lately that one might forgive 
 it ; but short-sighted ! Eye-glasses ! Spectacles 
 perhaps ! Hard study since may have com- 
 pletely ruined her eyes. I greatly fear she will 
 show up very badly beside Eleanor's piquant 
 beauty and Margaret's freshness. 
 
 42
 
 La Belle Helene" 
 
 She writes me that she will be here in a 
 month, so that it is time I was seriously con- 
 sidering what I am to do with her. Of course, 
 with the severe education she has had, she prob- 
 ably dislikes society and could not be induced to 
 go out, knowing well that she could not shine in 
 it; but as my brother's child she must be at 
 least introduced properly, and she can then 
 subside gracefully. Of course, where there are 
 two such attractive girls in the house as Eleanor 
 and Margaret, she cannot hope to compete in 
 social honors with them, and will probably 
 much prefer in any case to continue her studies 
 or go in for charitable work, or something of 
 that sort. 
 
 My dear Alma, I have just read over this 
 letter and am shocked to see how much I have 
 written about this affair. Forgive me if I have 
 wearied you and yes, do give me some good 
 advice. 
 
 Are you going to Carlsbad ? 
 
 The girls are out of town for a few days, or 
 would send love as I do. 
 
 Very affectionately yours, 
 
 MAEIAN MORRISON. 
 
 P.S. They say a woman cannot write a letter 
 without a postscript, and I believe it ! Tell me 
 
 43
 
 La Belle H&tene 
 
 what to do about H. How had I best introduce 
 her to society? Don't you think a dinner 
 where she could sit beside someone whom I 
 could especially choose as suited to her and 
 where she would not be too much en evidence ? 
 A dance would not do at all I doubt if she can 
 dance, poor girl ! 
 
 M. M. 
 
 Mrs. Franklin Bennett to Mrs. Olmsted Mor- 
 rison. 
 
 October 22d. 
 
 MY DEAREST MARIAN: How could you think 
 me so cold-blooded as to consider such a piece 
 of news as your letter contains "pen de chose" ? 
 I feel for you, I assure you. What a dilemma ! 
 The dear girls! how do they like the idea? 
 Margaret, as you say, will probably not mind, 
 but Eleanor so exquisitely pretty and stylish ! 
 It will be rather a thorn in the flesh, I imagine. 
 O ! how I wish I had children two such lovely 
 girls as yours would make life a different thing 
 for me ! 
 
 Of course, the dinner. How could you think 
 of anything else ! Invite some of the professors 
 from the University for her, and have the rest 
 of the company of young society people, so that 
 Eleanor and Margaret can enjoy it too. 
 
 44
 
 La Belli Helene" 
 
 Oh, my dear, I would like to write a long, 
 long letter about this, but I am in such confu- 
 sion and hurry ! Mr. Bennett has been ordered 
 to Wiesbaden for the winter, and we sail in a 
 week. I wish I could be in Baltimore to help 
 you, but it is impossible, of course. I count on 
 your writing me all your plans, and just how 
 Helen appears, and whether it is all as dreadful 
 as you now fear. Address to the Langham Ho- 
 tel until November 25th, after that, care Brown, 
 Shipley, as usual. Good-by. I have a thousand 
 things to tell you of, but must put them off un- 
 til I reach London and have a moment to my- 
 self. 
 
 As ever, 
 Devotedly yours, 
 
 A. B. 
 
 P.S. Don't look too much on the dark side 
 of things. I knew a Philadelphia girl once 
 the niece of old Colonel Devereaux you know 
 and she was rather pretty and quite good 
 form, though a college girl. I think, however, 
 she had been but one year to college. 
 
 A. B. 
 
 45
 
 " La Belle Hellne " 
 
 Mrs. Olmsted Morrison to Mrs. Franklin Bennett, 
 the Langharn Hotel, London, W. C. 
 
 BALTIMORE, November 15th. 
 
 DEAREST ALMA : Your note, which was so wel- 
 come and which came so long ago, would have 
 had an earlier answer had I not been a little 
 sick, and so busy and worried that I have not 
 had time or heart to write even to you. So 
 you can imagine in what a state I am. 
 
 The girls came back to town shortly after I 
 last wrote you, and we held a sort of family 
 council about Helen. The dear girls were 
 charming, and Eleanor bore it very bravely. 
 She says she will give Helen hints about her 
 hair, and will implore her not to wear spectacles, 
 but rimless eye-glasses. 
 
 We are very much worried about her gowns. 
 Of course her own taste is not to be depended 
 upon, and I hardly fancy her income would 
 justify her in leaving her toilette entirely with a 
 grande couturiere, even if she would dream of do- 
 ing such a thing, which I very much doubt. Her 
 father, you know, left the bulk of his fortune to 
 found a library in Westchester. He always said 
 he never intended to leave Helen enough to 
 tempt anyone to marry her for her money. 
 
 46
 
 La Belle Hellne" 
 
 Poor Henry what a strange, misguided man ! 
 But then, of course, he could not foresee that 
 his daughter would be an ugly duckling, and 
 strong-minded and college-bred, and all that. 
 Oh, yes, of course he must have known about 
 the college. But at any rate, man-like, he did 
 not realize how unattractive Helen would be. 
 
 Well, as I say, we talked it over, and the girls 
 agree with me that the best thing is a dinner. 
 Eleanor was for having it a small affair. She 
 said it would be truer kindness to Helen, but 
 Margaret, who is very blunt sometimes, I am 
 sorry to say, said she thought " we ought to give 
 Helen a chance," as she rather vulgarly ex- 
 pressed it, and insisted so strongly on it that we 
 gave in, and have decided to have a dinner, and 
 invite some of Eleanor's friends later to a small 
 dance. This will relieve Eleanor of some of her 
 more pressing social obligations, and she will 
 also be able to introduce Margaret to some of 
 her particular set before she makes her formal 
 debut later in the season. A debutante cannot 
 have too many friends. 
 
 And so, after talking it over, we determined 
 to invite Professor Radnor, of the University. 
 He is a comparatively young man about forty- 
 five, I judge and though far from handsome he 
 is considered very interesting, I believe, to those 
 
 47
 
 La Belle Helene " 
 
 who understand him. He is of good family, too 
 one of the Badnors of Cliff Hill, you know. 
 He and Helen can talk biology or whatever it is 
 he professes I really forget what it is. Then 
 there is Colonel Gray I shall invite him be- 
 cause he was an old friend of her father, and 
 though very grumpy and disagreeable, and apt 
 to bore one to death with his interminable 
 war stories, still I always invite him to the 
 house once a year, and he is to be depended 
 upon to come ; and indeed, Alma, I am so per- 
 plexed to know whom to invite that I really 
 cannot pick and choose. Then I think I shall 
 have the new rector at " All Souls." He is a 
 young man, an Englishman, and as stupid as the 
 proverbial Britisher ; very high church, and as I 
 have not yet invited him to dinner, I think the 
 choice of Mm rather diplomatic. It really has 
 been too much of an exertion to get up a din- 
 ner-party for him alone, and indeed Eleanor can- 
 not bear him, she says ; but with her usual sweet- 
 ness has consented to have him come if Helen 
 and Margaret will take him off her hands. He 
 and Helen will doubtless find much to say to 
 each other about Dr. Bernardo, and the Peo- 
 ple's Palace, and that sort of thing. I think 
 with these three I can safely let the girls take 
 care of the rest, and invite younger people who 
 
 48
 
 La Belle Helene " 
 
 will be congenial to them. I say younger peo- 
 ple, for Helen must be twenty-three or four, and 
 she will doubtless seem much older and graver. 
 You see I shall be prepared ; I know this will 
 be an ordeal, but I mean to do the best for her 
 that I can. I shall have everything as hand- 
 some as possible the girls are particularly anx- 
 ious about it as Eleanor proposes asking young 
 Claghart, the new artist, you know, who is mak- 
 ing such a name for himself. 
 
 Helen will be here in a week. I shall send out 
 the invitations in a day or two, so as to have no 
 refusals dinner engagements are already get- 
 ting numerous. I shall let you know all about 
 Helen and the dinner-party. I know you are as 
 interested as myself in this, and that you sym- 
 pathize with me. Poor Henry ! to think that he 
 should have given me a niece who has spent the 
 best years of her life shut up in colleges, and 
 ruining health and looks in sedentary, intellect- 
 ual pursuits ! 
 
 The Kinglakes were here yesterday and send 
 their kindest regards to you. Good-by ! A thou- 
 sand best wishes for a happy trip. Do tell Mr. 
 Bennett how much I hope he will be improved 
 by Wiesbaden. 
 
 Write soon to your devoted friend, 
 
 MARIAN M. 
 
 49
 
 La Belle Helene " 
 
 Mrs. Olmsted Morrison to Colonel Ralph Gray. 
 
 MY DEAR COLONEL: Of course it is to you, 
 Henry's oldest friend, that I write first to tell 
 the charming news that his daughter Helen is 
 coming to us in a week. She has " finished her 
 studies for the present," so she writes, and we 
 are at last to see the dear child. We are de- 
 lighted to have her come, and feel that she must 
 meet you at once. You will certainly find her 
 to your taste, as she is so highly educated and 
 not at all like these society girls whom you justly 
 condemn as utterly frivolous. 
 
 "We have arranged a little dinner-party for 
 Thursday, the twenty - fourth, and positively 
 count on you to come and put us all in a good 
 humor with one of your inimitable war stories. 
 Most cordially your friend, 
 
 MARIAN V. MORRISON. 
 
 Friday, November the eighteenth. 
 
 Mrs. Morrison to the Reverend Percival Beaufort. 
 
 MY DEAR MR. BEAUFORT : Will you give us 
 the great pleasure of seeing you at dinner on 
 Thursday evening, at half-past eight? Only 
 severe illness has kept me from asking this 
 favor long ago, so that I very much hope noth- 
 
 50
 
 La Belle Htllm " 
 
 ing will prevent your accepting now. Eleanor 
 tells me to remind you that the Young People's 
 Guild has been changed to Wednesday evening, 
 so at least that will not interfere with your ac- 
 ceptance. If you come, virtue will not be its 
 own reward in this case. I have a niece whom 
 I am particularly anxious you should meet. She 
 is intensely interested in all charities especially 
 London charities and is very quiet and charm- 
 ing, if not exactly pretty. But I am sure you 
 agree with me that beauty is often only a snare ! 
 
 The girls particularly wish to be remembered. 
 Most truly yours, 
 
 MARIAN V. MORRISON. 
 
 Friday, November the eighteenth. 
 
 Mrs. Morrison to Professor Albert Radnor, 
 Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore. 
 
 November the eighteenth. 
 
 MY DEAR PROFESSOR EADNOR: Can we per- 
 suade you to abandon your lectures and experi- 
 ments long enough to dine with us on the even- 
 ing of the twenty-fourth ? I know we are very 
 frivolous and not at all the people to interest 
 you, however much you interest us, but I fancy 
 I shall have someone here whom you will be 
 glad to meet. I want you to know my niece, 
 
 51
 
 La Belle HeVene" 
 
 Miss Helen Hammersley. She is an immensely 
 clever girl has taken her degree at one of our 
 famous women's colleges, and has just returned 
 from a year of Oxford and the Bodleian, so that 
 I feel reasonably sure she will be able to listen 
 intelligently to you, at any rate. She is greatly 
 interested in your specialty, and will certainly 
 esteem it the greatest privilege to meet such a 
 noted authority on the subject as yourself. 
 I will take no excuse. 
 
 Very sincerely your friend, 
 
 MARIAN V. MOEBISON. 
 
 Miss Eleanor Morrison to Miss Grace Fairfax, 
 Washington, D. C. 
 
 November 19th. 
 
 DEAREST GRACE : We are sending out invita- 
 tions to dinner and small dance afterward in 
 honor of a cousin of ours, Helen Hammersley, 
 who is coming from England to spend the win- 
 ter with us, and of course we thought of you 
 first and foremost. You must come and save 
 the situation with your brilliancy and tact. 
 There ! can you refuse me after that ? To tell you 
 the truth, dear, we are all awfully worried about 
 the whole thing. "We none of us know Helen at 
 all, and we are simply au desespoir about her be- 
 
 52
 
 La Belle Helene " 
 
 cause she is such a strange girl. She has been 
 at college for five years first in America and 
 then at Oxford, and we all feel miserably sure 
 of what an impossible sort of girl she is. She 
 even took some sort of honor in mathematics at 
 Oxford just fancy ! What she is going to be 
 like in a ball-room no mortal can guess ! So we 
 have done the best we can mamma has invited 
 some old fogies to entertain her, and I propose 
 we make our end of the table as much of a shin- 
 ing contrast as possible. I shall ask that Cana- 
 dian you adore so Reggie Montrose for you, 
 and your brother Jerry for Margaret, and shall 
 reserve Wayne Claghart for myself ; so please 
 take warning and let that youth severely alone. 
 He is my especial property, and I consider him 
 simply the nicest man I know. He has hinted 
 two or three times that he would like to sketch 
 my head. He needn't be afraid of my refusing, 
 if he'd only ask me outright ! I shall tell Helen, 
 of course, that I asked him because he has lately 
 returned from England, and she has just re- 
 turned, etc., etc., but I'm afraid he'll be so far 
 away from her and she'll be so busy talking the 
 ologies with Professor Radnor (forgot to tell 
 you mamma has asked him ! ), and the East End 
 with Percy Beaufort, that I don't think she'll 
 have a chance to stun him with her learning. 
 
 53
 
 "La Belle Hellne" 
 
 Besides, I don't think he is the man to devote 
 much time to that sort of a girl. 
 
 Now, don't disappoint me ! I count on you. 
 Later there will be a lot of people in the usual 
 crowd, you know and if you'll say positively 
 you'll come, we will make it a small cotillon and 
 you shall lead with Reggie. 
 
 I'll let Margaret write to Jerry they are such 
 chums, but you be sure and make him come. 
 Don't, for Heaven's sake, let him know about 
 Helen's homeliness and flabbergastering attain- 
 ments, or he won't stir a foot. 
 
 Good-by. Expect you down Wednesday. 
 Telegraph me you will come. 
 
 As ever, 
 
 ELEANOR. 
 
 Miss Eleanor Morrison to Reginald Montrose, 
 Esq., Murray Hill Hotel, New York City. 
 
 November 19th. 
 
 DEAB MB. MONTEOSE : Thank you so much for 
 that lovely philopena present. How charming 
 of you to have thought of that ! Won't you 
 take dinner with us next Thursday, at half after 
 eight, and let me thank you in person ? After 
 dinner you may dance the cotillon with Miss 
 Fairfax. There ! is not that an inducement ? I 
 
 54
 
 La Belle Hellne " 
 
 have a cousin whom I want you to meet, too 
 she is just returning to America and is very 
 learned, and not quite your style, I fear, but she 
 will doubtless be good for you after me ! 
 Most cordially yours, 
 
 ELEANOR MORRISON. 
 
 Miss Eleanor Morrison to Wayne Claghart, Esq., 
 Tiventy-tliird Street, New York City. 
 
 SATURDAY, November 19th. 
 
 DEAR MR. CLAGHART : Do you remember your 
 promise to run down to Baltimore ? Well, I 
 shall expect you to keep it next Thursday. We 
 are to have a little dinner and a dance afterward 
 (perhaps I should say a dinner and a little 
 dance no, the adjective belongs to both), and I 
 shall certainly expect you to be on hand. Your 
 fame has preceded you, of course, and a great 
 many very nice young women are simply existing 
 on the thought of meeting Mr. Wayne Claghart, 
 the artist ! Shall I reserve the very prettiest and 
 nicest of them all to dance the cotillon with 
 you? 
 
 Hoping to see you without fail, 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 ELEANOR MORRISON. 
 
 55
 
 "La Belle Htllne" 
 
 Miss Margaret Morrison to Mr. Jere Fairfax, 
 Washington, D. C. 
 
 November 19th. 
 
 DEAB r JEREY : Eleanor has a dinner on for 
 next Thursday, and we want you to throw over 
 all your numerous engagements for that evening 
 and come to us. Do, Jerry and favor me a lot 
 I forgot to say there was a german afterward 
 and be generally nice to your debutante, Mar- 
 got. As an inducement I will say that we've 
 got a jolly surprise for you. Eleanor don't 
 want me to tell, but I'm going to. Our cousin, 
 Helen Hammersley, is coming to spend the win- 
 ter with us it's for her the dinner is being 
 given and mamma and Eleanor are in despair 
 about her. I don't believe she's half bad, but 
 they say she's awfully ugly, and too smart to be 
 nice. I suppose she is awfully erudite is that 
 the word ? "Wears specs, and dresses like every- 
 thing, I suppose. "Wonder if she ever danced 
 the german she can have a sprained ankle if 
 she don't know how. 
 
 As ever, 
 
 MARGARET. 
 
 56
 
 La Belle Heltne " 
 
 Telegram Miss Grace Fairfax to Miss Eleanor 
 Morrison, Baltimore. 
 
 WASHINGTON, November 20th. 
 Delighted to come. Charmed to lead with 
 K. Have two new figures. Order little French 
 flags for one set favors. 
 
 GRACE. 
 
 Telegram Miss Grace Fairfax to Miss Eleanor 
 Morrison. 
 
 WASHINGTON, November 22d. 
 
 Terrible attack tonsillitis. Doctor says pos- 
 itively cannot* go. 
 
 GRACE. 
 
 Miss Eleanor Morrison to Miss Marie de Roclie- 
 mont, Charles Street. 
 
 MY DEAR Miss DE BOCHEMONT : Much to my 
 surprise and annoyance I have this moment 
 found an invitation which I thought had been 
 mailed to you several days ago. It must have 
 slipped out of the other notes some way and 
 has been lying under some papers here on my 
 desk ever since. Can you forgive this mischance 
 and accept so tardy an invitation ? It will give 
 
 57
 
 La Belle Helene " 
 
 us all the greatest pleasure to see you at half 
 after eight. I especially want to introduce to 
 you a cousin of mine just returned from the 
 other side. She has been in college all her life, 
 and I want her to meet some of our most charm- 
 ing society girls to rub her shyness off and make 
 her take more interest in social life. Perhaps 
 you may convert her ! Hoping that no previous 
 engagement will prevent our seeing you Thurs- 
 day, 
 
 Most sincerely yours, 
 
 ELEANOR MORRISON. 
 
 Mrs. Olmsted Morrison to Mrs. Franklin Ben- 
 nett, care of Brown, Shipley & Co., London. 
 
 November 25th. 
 
 MY DEAR ALMA: What a surprise! I can 
 scarcely collect my thoughts sufficiently to write 
 intelligently on the subject. I really was never 
 more surprised in all my life more intensely 
 and thoroughly surprised. But I must try and 
 tell you connectedly all about it. To begin 
 with Helen did not come on the twentieth as 
 we had expected, but telegraphed us that she 
 was detained in Boston and would not reach 
 Baltimore until the morning of the twenty- 
 fourth. This was very annoying, as I was most 
 
 58
 
 La Belle Helene" 
 
 anxious about her gown for the dinner, and then 
 I imagined that she would be utterly dragged 
 out after travelling all night. Dear Eleanor 
 would have been, I am quite sure. But Helen 
 seems to be one of those distressingly healthy 
 people no nerves, no sensitiveness. She quite 
 laughed when I asked her if she were not tired ! 
 
 Well she came on the eleven-five train, and, 
 Alma, she is not at all the kind of person I had 
 expected. She is even handsome after a certain 
 style of her own not one that I admire not 
 at all Eleanor's style. But certainly it could be 
 much worse. The men even seemed to find her 
 quite good-looking. She has certainly pre- 
 served her complexion wonderfully well and as 
 for her being short-sighted ! Between ourselves 
 I am sure it is only an excuse for using a very 
 beautiful lorgnon, and for looking rather intently 
 at one in a sort of meditative way which I con- 
 sider rather offensive, but which Percy Beaufort 
 told me he found most attractive. He is very 
 disappointing, by the way ; I had expected so 
 much of him, but I find him quite an ordinaiy 
 young man. 
 
 I was really shocked at Helen's levity. I had 
 expected from her superior education that her 
 mind would be above trivialities, but the way 
 she laughed and seemed to enjoy the conversa- 
 
 59
 
 La Belle mime n 
 
 tion of Reggie Montrose and Jerry Fairfax ! and 
 if she had confined her attentions to those boys ! 
 But, Alma, she even tried to infatuate Colonel 
 Gray and Professor Radnor ! Two such men ! 
 She is far from being the quiet, thoughtful stu- 
 dent I had expected to so enjoy. Why, she had 
 the audacity to say to Colonel Gray, after one of 
 his irascible explosions at things in general 
 " My dear Colonel, you are a living example of 
 squaring the circle quite round yet full of 
 angles ! " You know how rotund the Colonel is, 
 Alma. Think of it ! To Colonel Gray, whoso 
 irritability is simply proverbial. And he actu- 
 ally seemed to enjoy it ! Men of a certain ago 
 seem to be only too willing to make fools of 
 themselves if a young girl looks at them. And 
 Percival Beaufort, who is so interested in Lon- 
 don charities, could not extract one word from 
 her on the subject, I believe ; at any rate I dis- 
 tinctly heard her giving him an animated ac- 
 count of the last " Eights Week," and he was in- 
 quiring solicitously who was the coxswain for 
 Magdalen ! Even Professor Radnor seemed to 
 lose his head, though I believe she talked more 
 sensibly to him than to the others, for he told 
 me that she was one of the few women he had 
 ever met who seemed to thoroughly understand 
 Abel's demonstration of the impossibility of solv- 
 
 60
 
 La Belle Htltne " 
 
 ing a quintic equation by means of radicals 
 whatever that means. 
 
 By the way, we need not have worried about 
 her gown at all. It was quite presentable, and 
 had in it a quantity of rare old point d'Alengon 
 which Helen says Henry picked up in Paris. 
 It quite vexed me to think that I have none of 
 that pattern it is especially beautiful. 
 
 Eleanor would add a word, but she is feeling 
 quite ill this morning, dear child ! She was so 
 worried over the dinner. At the very last mo- 
 ment Grace Fairfax failed her, and she was 
 obliged to invite Marie de Rochemont in her 
 place. "We were especially sorry that Grace 
 could not come, and that Jerry did. He is get- 
 ting completely spoiled ; his assurance and in- 
 considerateness are truly wonderful. 
 
 By the way, we have changed our plans for 
 the winter slightly. We are going to the Ber- 
 mudas for a month, and Helen will visit friends 
 in Boston for the rest of the winter. Write soon 
 and let me know how Mr. Bennett is feeling. 
 Address here, all our mail will be forwarded. 
 As ever, your devoted friend, 
 
 MARIAN MOBEISON. 
 
 61
 
 "La Belle Helene" 
 
 Mr. Jere Fairfax to Miss Grace Fairfax, Wash" 
 ington, D. C. 
 
 BALTIMORE, November 25th. 
 DEAR GRACE : I suppose I've got to keep my 
 solemn promise to write to you all about the 
 blow-out, though it's an awful effort for me to 
 write letters, and I'm so razzle-dazzled too ! 
 You simply weren't in it ! She's stunning ! The 
 fellows all call her " La Belle Helene." Claghart 
 started the name and it took like wildfire. The 
 fair Eleanor is furious. She looked perfectly 
 insignificant by the side of that magnificent 
 creature. What the dickens did Margaret mean 
 by her letter? Why, Helen Hammersley is a 
 perfect beauty. It isn't good to spring a sur- 
 prise like that on a fellow. Bad for one's nerves. 
 Claghart is terribly shaken. Found out she had 
 met ever so many celebrated artists, English 
 and French, and they jawed for hours. Fact is 
 Claghart's got the cinch on the rest of us because 
 she's so awfully interested in art I heard her 
 tell him so. Oh ! I almost forgot to tell you 
 the joke ! You see, Mrs. Morrison had put her 
 up at her end of the table, with the rector of All 
 Souls on one side of her the old duffer ! and 
 that fossil, Professor Radnor, on the other, and 
 of all people in the world that ante-bellum 
 
 62
 
 La Belle HHene " 
 
 specimen, Colonel Ralph Gray, opposite ! Think 
 of that, with Montrose and Claghart and myself 
 at the other end, cut off from her by half a dozen 
 married people! Think of the injustice, the 
 tactlessness of such a proceeding ! Well, I sim- 
 ply determined to shake things up a bit, so after 
 the bird I said, as sweetly as only yours truly 
 can say, " Mrs. Morrison, I was at the Dwights' 
 the other evening to a progressive dinner-party. 
 Charming idea, don't you think ? " I knew all 
 the men would back me up, and sure enough 
 Reggie Montrose sang out, " Yes, indeed, Mrs. 
 Morrison ! "Why not try it to-night ? " and be- 
 fore the words were fairly out of his mouth, 
 Claghart had jumped up with his wine-glass and 
 his napkin in his hand, and was moving up one 
 seat nearer " La Belle Helene." Of course there 
 was an awful muss and Eleanor was furious, I 
 could see, but she pulled herself together and 
 smiled awfully sweetly at Claghart. Marie de 
 Rochemont turned perfectly green give you 
 my word of honor. Margaret was the only one 
 who seemed really not to mind. She's a nice 
 little thing, but she won't have much show in 
 society if Helen Hammersley is around. 
 
 I wish I could tell you about "La Belle 
 Helene," but I'm not much for descriptions. 
 She's different from any girl I ever knew not 
 
 63
 
 La Belle Heltne" 
 
 very tall, but awfully good figure fixes her hair 
 like those stunning girls of Gibson's you know, 
 and she's got a way of looking at a fellow ear- 
 nest and yet half laughing that's enough to 
 drive one out of one's senses. She's got thatj'e 
 ne sais quoi, you know something awfully fetch- 
 ing and magnetic and all that sort of thing. 
 (You'll think me a drivelling idiot !) She wore 
 a beauty of a gown, white satin or gauze, I'm 
 not sure which. Was going to ask Claghart 
 being an artist he's up to such fine distinctions 
 but forgot it. I say, Grace, why don't your 
 gowns look like that ? You'd better ask her who 
 built hers. Tell you what, she's just fascinating 
 not stiff or uppish a bit, but she's got a certain 
 sort of dignity you girls don't seem to acquire, 
 some way or other. 
 
 She simply hoodooed old Gray, not to mention 
 Percy Beaufort, the Professor, and several dozen 
 others, including your devoted brother. There 
 was one solemn moment at the cotillion when 
 every man in the room was around her. The 
 other girls looked black, I promise you ! What 
 the deuce, Grace, makes you girls so jealous ? I 
 actually believe Eleanor didn't like her cousin's 
 brilliant success at all, and yet you told me she 
 was so anxious about it. Can't make you girls 
 out. 
 
 64
 
 La Belle Hetene" 
 
 You say she's been to college all her life and 
 is awfully smart ? Well, I suppose she is she 
 looks that way but she didn't come any of it on 
 us. And yet she's clever, that's sure, for she 
 knows all the points of difference between the 
 Rugby and Association game, and I heard her 
 talking golf with Claghart and telling Professor 
 Radnor that dancing was a healthful amusement, 
 and he was asking her, in the most idiotic way, 
 if she'd teach him the two-step. Wasn't that 
 rich ! And old Gray said to a lot of fellows in 
 the smoking-room that, " By Jove, she was the 
 handsomest girl he'd seen in a quarter of a cen- 
 tury, and that if she was an example of a college- 
 bred girl he wished they'd all go to college." 
 
 Well, I must stop. I really believe, Grace, 
 this is the longest letter I ever wrote, and I want 
 you to put it to my credit understand ? and the 
 next time I try to arrange a trip to Mount Ver- 
 non with certain people, you'll please be more 
 amenable to reason See ? 
 
 I think I've told you everything except that 
 I'm going to stop here for a few days they're 
 always asking me, you know, and I told Margaret 
 last night that I'd accept this time. Eleanor 
 looked as if she didn't half like it. Why not, do 
 you suppose ? But I can't tear myself away. 
 I'm desperately in love with " La Belle Helene," 
 
 65
 
 La Belle Htftne" 
 
 besides I'm awfully interested in watching the 
 running between Claghart and Montrose. It will 
 be a close finish, I think, with Claghart in the 
 lead, Montrose a good second, and a full field 
 not far behind. Excuse sporting instincts and 
 language. 
 
 As ever, your aff. brother, 
 
 JERRY. 
 
 How's your throat ? Better, I hope. Hers is 
 lovely " like a piece of marble column " at least 
 that's what Reggie confided to me at 3 G. M. 
 this morning. J. F.
 
 AS TOLD BY HER
 
 AS TOLD BY HER 
 
 waiters had served the coffee and were 
 1 retiring in long rows down the sides of the 
 big dining-hall. The rattle of knives and forks 
 and the noise of general and animated talk were 
 subsiding, and the pleased, expectant hush which 
 always precedes the toasts, was falling upon 
 the assembly. At the lower end of the room, 
 farthest from the " distinguished-guest " table, 
 the unimportant people began to turn their chairs 
 around toward the speakers and to say " 'Sh ! " 
 and " Who's that ? " to each other in subdued 
 whispers, and the seniors grasped their sheep- 
 skins less nervously and began to realize their 
 importance and the fact that they were no 
 longer undergraduates but full-fledged alumnae. 
 And with the realization came a curious dis- 
 agreeable sensation and a queer tightening in 
 the throat, accompanied by a horrible inclina- 
 tion to shed tears over the closed chapter of 
 their lives. Then they fiercely thought how 
 their brothers act under similar circumstances, 
 and wished they were men and could give the 
 
 69
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 class yell and drink champagne to stifle their 
 feelings. That being impossible they tasted a 
 very mild decoction of coffee and turned their 
 troubled eyes to the far end of the room, and 
 wished ardently that the President would get on 
 her feet and say something funny to make them 
 forget that this was the end, the last act of 
 politeness on the part of the faculty to them, 
 that they were being gracefully evicted, as it 
 were, and could never be taken back upon the 
 same terms or under the same conditions. 
 
 It was the annual Commencement dinner to 
 the retiring senior class, and the senior class 
 was, as usual, feeling collapsed and blank after 
 the excitement of Commencement week and the 
 discovery that they were B.A.'s or B.S.'s, and 
 that the world was before them and there would 
 be no more faculties to set them going or haul 
 them up, but that they would have to depend 
 on their own faculties in the future. There was 
 the annual foregathering of brilliant men and 
 women whose presence was to be an incentive 
 to the newly fledged alumnae, and the display of 
 whose wit and wisdom in after-dinner speeches 
 was to be a last forcible impression of intellect- 
 ual vigor and acquirements left on their minds. 
 
 Suddenly the President arose. She stood 
 there, graceful, perfectly at ease, waiting for a
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 moment of entire silence. Her sensitive, blood- 
 less face looked more animated than usual, her 
 brown eyes quietly humorous. It was a face 
 eminently characteristic indicative of the ele- 
 ment of popularity and adaptability in her nat- 
 ure that made her, just then, so valuable to the 
 college. When she spoke her voice carried a 
 surprising distance, notwithstanding its veiled, 
 soft quality, so that those farthest from her were 
 able to catch and enjoy the witty, gnomic, sar- 
 castic manner of her speech. 
 
 What she said was taken down by the short- 
 hand reporter smuggled in for the occasion by 
 the enterprising class-president and is enrolled 
 in the class-book, so it need not be recorded 
 here ; but when she had finished, the editor of 
 one of the foremost magazines in the country 
 was smiling and nodding his head appreciatively, 
 and a man whose sermons are listened to by 
 thousands every Lord's Day leaned over and 
 made some quick side remark to her and ran his 
 hands in a pleased, interested way through his 
 long hair ; and the young and already famous 
 President of a certain college said, on rising, 
 that he felt very genuine trepidation at attempt- 
 ing any remarks after that. He fully sustained 
 his reputation, however, of a brilliant talker, 
 and was followed by the honorary member of
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 the juniors, whose post-prandial speeches have 
 made him famous on both sides of the water. 
 
 The room became absolutely quiet, save for 
 the voice of the speaker, the occasional burst of 
 applause, and the appreciative murmur of the 
 listeners. Outside, the afternoon began to grow 
 mellow, long shadows thrown by the pointed 
 turrets of the building lay across the green cam- 
 pus, the ivy at the big windows waved to and 
 fro slightly in the cool breeze. Attention 
 flagged ; people began to tire of the clever, witty 
 responses to the toasts and to look about them 
 a little. 
 
 At one of the tables reserved for the alumnae, 
 near the upper end of the room, sat a girl 
 dressed in deep mourning. Her face was very 
 beautiful and intelligent, with the intelligence 
 that is more the result of experience than of un- 
 usual mental ability. There were delicate, fine 
 lines about the mouth and eyes. She could not 
 have been more than twenty-four or five, but 
 there was an air of firmness and decision about 
 her which contradicted her blond almost 
 frivolous beauty and lent dignity to the deli- 
 cate figure. 
 
 After awhile she leaned back in her chair a 
 trifle wearily and looked about her curiously as 
 if for changes. The general aspect of the place 
 
 73
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 remained the same, she decided, but there were 
 a great many new faces new faces in the fac- 
 ulty, too, where one least likes to find them. 
 Here and there she saw an old acquaintance 
 and smiled perfunctorily, but, on the whole, 
 there was no one present she cared very much 
 to see. She had just come to the conclusion 
 that she was sorry she had made the long jour- 
 ney to be present at the dinner when she be- 
 came conscious that someone was looking in- 
 tently at her across the room. She leaned 
 forward eagerly and smiled naturally and cor- 
 dially for the first time. And then she sank 
 bank suddenly and blushed like a school-girl 
 and smiled again, but in a different way, as if at 
 herself, or at some thought that tickled her 
 fancy. It certainly did strike her as rather 
 amusing and presuming for her to be smiling 
 and bowing so cordially to Professor Arbuthnot. 
 She remembered very distinctly, in what awe 
 she had stood of that learned lady, and that in 
 her undergraduate days she had systematically 
 avoided her, since she could not avoid her ex- 
 aminations and their occasionally disastrous 
 consequences. She recalled very forcibly the 
 masterly lectures, the logical, profound, often 
 original talks, which she had heard in her lect- 
 ure-room, though she had to acknowledge to 
 
 73
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 herself reproachfully, that the matter of them 
 had entirely escaped her memory. She had 
 been one of a big majority who had always con- 
 sidered Professor Arbuthnot as a very high type 
 perhaps the highest type the college afford- 
 ed of a woman whose brains and attainments 
 would make her remarkable in any assembly of 
 savants. In her presence she had always real- 
 ized very keenly her own superficiality, and she 
 felt very much nattered that such a woman 
 should have remembered her and not a little 
 abashed as she thought of the entire renuncia- 
 tion of study she had made since leaving college. 
 She wondered what Professor Arbuthnot might 
 be thinking about her she knew she was think- 
 ing about her, because the bright eyes opposite 
 were still fixed upon her with their piercing, not 
 unkindly gaze. It occurred to her at last, hu- 
 morously, that perhaps the Professor was not 
 considering her at all, but some question in 
 thermo-electric currents for instance. 
 
 But Miss Arbuthnot's mind was not on ther- 
 mo-electric currents ; she was saying to herself : 
 " She is much more beautiful than when she 
 was here, and there is a new element of beauty 
 in her face, too. I wonder where she has been 
 since, and why she is in mourning. She was 
 unintelligent, I remember. It's a great pity
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 brains and that sort of beauty rarely ever go to- 
 gether. Her name was Ellis yes Grace Ellis. 
 I think I must see her later." And the Profess- 
 or gave her another piercing smile and settled 
 herself to listen to a distinguished political 
 economist a great friend of hers speak. 
 
 The Political Economist got upon his feet 
 slowly and with a certain diffidence. He was a 
 man who had made his way, self-taught, from 
 poverty and ignorance to a professorship in one 
 of the finest technical schools of America. 
 
 There was a brusqueness in his manner, and 
 the hard experiences of his life had made him 
 old. He spoke in a quiet, authoritative way. 
 He declared, with a rather heavy attempt at 
 jocoseness, that his hearers had had their sweets 
 first, so to speak, and that they must now go 
 back and take a little solid, unpalpable nourish- 
 ment ; that he had never made a witty or amus- 
 ing remark in his life, and he did not propose to 
 begin and try then, and finally he hinted that 
 the President had made a very bad selection 
 when she invited him to respond to the toast 
 "The Modern Education of Woman." As he 
 warmed to his subject he became more gracious 
 and easy in manner. He spoke at length of the 
 evolution of women's colleges, their methods, 
 their advantages, their limitations ; he touched 
 
 75
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 upon the salient points of difference between a 
 man's college life and that of a girl ; differences 
 of character, of interests, of methods of work. 
 And then he went on : 
 
 " I believe in it I believe firmly in the mod- 
 ern education of woman. It is one of the things 
 of most vital interest to me ; but my enthusiasm 
 does not blind me. There are phases of it which 
 I do not indorse. I object to many of its re- 
 sults. The most obvious bad result is the exag- 
 gerated importance which the very phrase has 
 assumed." He smiled plaintively around upon 
 the company. " Are we to have nothing but 
 woman's education toujours T education de la 
 femme ? There is such eagerness to get to col- 
 lege, such blind belief in what is to be learned 
 there, such a demand for a college education for 
 women, that we are overwhelmed by it. Every 
 year these doors are closed upon hundreds of 
 disappointed women, who turn elsewhere, or re- 
 linquish the much -prized college education. 
 The day is not far distant when it will be a dis- 
 tinct reproach to a woman that she is not col- 
 lege-bred." He looked down thoughtfully and 
 intently and spoke more slowly. 
 
 " It is this phase of it which sometimes troubles 
 me. Life is so rich in experience for woman 
 so much richer and fuller for woman than for 
 
 76
 
 THE POLITICAL ECONOMIST
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 man that I tremble at this violent reaction 
 from nature to art. To-day woman seems to 
 forget that she must learn to live, not live to 
 learn. At the risk of being branded as ' behind 
 the times,' of being considered narrow, bigoted, 
 old-fashioned, I must say that until woman 
 re-discovers that life is everything, that all she 
 can learn here in a hundred times the four years 
 of her college course is but the least part of 
 what life and nature can teach her, until then I 
 shall not be wholly satisfied with the modern 
 education of woman." 
 
 When he ceased there was an awkward and 
 significant silence, and the editor looked over at 
 him and smiled and shook his head reprovingly. 
 And then the President got up quickly and 
 with a few graceful, apropos remarks restored 
 good-humor, and taking the arm of the distin- 
 guished divine, led the way from the dining- 
 hall to the reception-rooms, and people jostled 
 each other good-naturedly, and edged them- 
 selves between chairs and tables to speak to 
 acquaintances, and there was much laughter 
 and questioning and exclamations of surprise 
 and delight, until finally the long procession 
 got itself outside the dining-hall into the big 
 corridors. 
 
 At the door Professor Arbuthnot caught sight 
 
 77
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 of Miss Ellis again. She beckoned to the girl, 
 who came quickly toward her. 
 
 " I am tired and am going to my rooms for 
 awhile, will you come ? " The girl blushed again 
 with pleasure and some embarrassment. 
 
 "I should be delighted," she said simply, 
 and together they walked down the broad hall- 
 way. 
 
 "It's very good of you," she broke in ner- 
 vously, looking down at the small, quiet figure 
 beside hers she was head and shoulders taller 
 than the Professor. 
 
 " Not at all," declared Miss Arbuthnot, kindly. 
 " I want to see you it has been a long while 
 since you were a student here four or five years 
 I should say and you recall other faces and 
 times." 
 
 " It has been four years I can hardly believe 
 it," said the girl, softly. She wondered vaguely 
 what on earth Miss Arbuthnot could wish to see 
 her for she had been anything but a favorite 
 with the faculty as a student, but she felt very 
 much flattered and very nervous at the attention 
 bestowed upon her. 
 
 When she reached Professor Arbuthnot's 
 rooms, the embarrassment she had felt at being 
 noticed by so distinguished a member of the 
 faculty visibly increased. 
 
 78
 
 IT HAS BEEN A LONG WHILE SINCE YOU WERE A STUDENT HERE
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 The place was typical the absence of all 
 ornament and feminine bric-a-brac the long 
 rows of book-shelves filled with the most ad- 
 vanced works on natural sciences, the tables 
 piled up with brochures and scientific magazines, 
 enveloped her in an atmosphere of profound 
 learning quite oppressive. She had never been 
 in the room but once before, and that was on a 
 most inauspicious occasion just after the mid- 
 year's. She wondered uneasily, and yet with 
 some amusement, if Professor Arbuthnot remem- 
 bered the circumstance. But that lady was not 
 thinking of the young girl. She was busy with 
 her mail, which had just been brought in, open- 
 ing and folding up letter after letter in a quick, 
 methodical way. 
 
 " More work for me," she said, smiling ; " here 
 is an invitation to deliver six lectures on electro- 
 optics." The girl looked at her admiringly. 
 
 " Absolutely I've forgotten the very meaning 
 of the words ; and as for lecturing ! " she broke 
 off with a little laugh. " Are you going to give 
 them?" 
 
 " Yes : it makes a great deal of work for me, 
 but I never refuse such invitations. Besides 
 I shall be able to take these lectures almost 
 bodily from a little book I am getting out." 
 Professor Arbuthnot went over to the desk and 
 19
 
 lifted up a pile of manuscript, and smiled indul- 
 gently at the girl's exclamation of awe. 
 
 " It isn't much," she went on. " Only some 
 experiments I have been making in the optical 
 effects of powerful magnets. They turned out 
 very prettily. I have a good deal of hard work 
 to do on the book yet. I shall stay here a 
 week or two longer, quite alone, and finish it 
 all up." 
 
 The girl touched the papers reverently. 
 
 "Here is a note I have just received from 
 
 Professor " (Miss Arbuthnot named one of 
 
 the most distinguished authorities of the day on 
 magnetism and electricity). " I sent him some 
 of the first proof-sheets, and he says he's de- 
 lighted with them. We are great friends." 
 
 The girl's awe and admiration increased with 
 every movement. She looked at the small, slight 
 woman whose intelligent, ugly face had an almost 
 child-like simplicity of expression, contrasting 
 strangely enough with the wrinkled, bloodless 
 skin and piercing eyes. Her hair, which was 
 parted and brushed severely back, was thickly 
 sprinkled with gray. 
 
 She gasped a little. " You actually know him 
 know Professor ? " 
 
 Miss Arbuthnot laughed. "Oh, yes," she said ; 
 " we often work together. We get along famously ; 
 
 80
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 we are ' sympathetic ' in our work, as the French 
 say." 
 
 The girl swept her a mock courtesy. 
 
 "I feel too nattered for anything that you 
 deign to speak to me," she said, laughing and 
 bowing low. 
 
 Professor Arbuthnot looked pleased ; she was 
 far above conceit, but she was not entirely im- 
 pervious to such fresh, genuine admiration. She 
 was feeling particularly happy, too, over the re- 
 sults of her experiments particularly interested 
 in her work. 
 
 " If you are so impressed by that," she 
 laughed, " I shall have to tell you something 
 even more wonderful still. I have just received 
 
 an honorary degree from College. It was 
 
 quite unexpected, and I nmst say I am extremely 
 pleased. It is very agreeable to know that one's 
 work is appreciated when one has given one's 
 life to it." 
 
 It seemed to the girl, with these evidences of 
 success appealing to her, that a life could not 
 be more nobly spent than in such work. She 
 went slowly around the room after that, look- 
 ing at a great many interesting things. At 
 books with priceless autographs on their title- 
 pages, and photographs of famous scientists, 
 and diagrams of electrical apparatus, and edi- 
 
 81
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 tions in pamphlet form of articles by Professor 
 Arbuthnot, published originally in scientific 
 journals. 
 
 The girl suddenly felt sick and ashamed of 
 herself. It struck her very forcibly just how lit- 
 tle she knew, and how she had neglected her op- 
 portunities. 
 
 " What an awful ignoramus I am ! " she burst 
 out at length. " I don't know what these mean ; 
 I have only the vaguest idea what these men 
 have done. How different you are ! Your life 
 has had a high aim and you have attained it. 
 
 While I ! " she stopped with a scornful 
 
 gesture. " If it were not for Julian I believe I 
 would come back here and start over ! " 
 
 Miss Arbuthnot looked at her critically. She 
 admired the girl's beauty tremendously it was 
 her one weakness this love of beauty. She 
 never looked at herself in a mirror oftener than 
 necessary. 
 
 " Ah ! Julian ; who is Julian ? " 
 
 The girl blushed again she had a pretty way 
 of flushing quickly. 
 
 " Julian ? why he's my husband. I forgot to 
 tell you that I married my cousin, Julian Ellis, 
 as soon as I left college." 
 
 " Really ! " Miss Arbuthnot came over and 
 sat down on the divan beside the girl. " You 
 
 83
 
 look so young," she said, rather wistfully. " And 
 you have been married four years ? " 
 
 The girl nodded. " It seems much longer," 
 she said. " I have had a great deal of trouble." 
 
 " Tell me about it," said the older woman 
 kindly. But the girl was much embarrassed at 
 the idea of talking of her own little affairs to 
 Professor Arbuthnot. 
 
 " I am afraid it would only bore you," she 
 said, hurriedly. " Your interests you are in- 
 terested in so many " 
 
 * But Miss Arbuthnot was firm. " Let me hear," 
 she insisted. 
 
 "I'm sure I hardly know what there is to tell," 
 the girl began nervously. " My father was much 
 opposed to my marrying Julian. He did not 
 wish me to leave college ; and he did not believe 
 in cousins marrying. He said that if we did he 
 would disinherit me you know he is rich. But 
 Julian and I were in love with each other, and 
 so of course we got married." She stopped sud- 
 denly and drawing off her glove looked at her 
 wedding-ring. Professor Arbuthnot watched her 
 curiously. The girl's simple statement "and 
 of course we got married " struck her forcibly. 
 She wondered what it would feel like to be 
 swayed by an emotion so powerful that a father's 
 commands and the loss of a fortune would have 
 
 83
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 absolutely no influence upon it. She could not 
 remember ever having felt anything like that. 
 
 " Julian was awfully poor and I of course had 
 nothing more, and so we went to Texas Julian 
 had an opening there," she went on. " It was 
 awfully lonely we lived ten miles from the 
 nearest town and you know what a Texas town 
 is." Miss Arbuthnot shook her head. She had 
 never been west of Ohio. 
 
 The girl gave a little in-drawn gasp. " Well, 
 it's worse than anything you can conceive of. I 
 think one has to live in one of them and then 
 move away and have ten miles of dead level 
 prairie land between you and it to know just what 
 loneliness is. But we were so happy, so happy 
 at first until Julian was taken ill." She leaned 
 back against the couch and clasped her hands 
 around her knees. 
 
 " It was awful I can't tell you," she went on 
 in a broken voice. " But you know what un- 
 speakable agony it is to see what you love best 
 on earth ill and suffering, and you nearly power- 
 less to do a thing. And how I loved him ! I 
 never knew until then what he was how much 
 of my life he had become. You must know 
 what agony I went through ? " she looked inter- 
 rogatively, beseechingly at the woman beside 
 her. 
 
 84
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 Miss Arbuthnot looked away. " I am not sure 
 I I was never in love," she said uncertainly. 
 A curious wave of jealousy swept over her that 
 she who had been such a student, whose whole 
 life had been a study, should have somehow 
 missed experiences that this girl had lived 
 through already. The girl shook her head 
 softly, pityingly, as if she could hardly believe 
 her. 
 
 " I shall never forget it, and that night," she 
 went on, closing her eyes faintly. " I thought he 
 was dying. I had to have a doctor, but I was 
 afraid to leave him. I remember how everything 
 flashed through my mind. It was a decision for 
 life or death. If I left him I knew I might never 
 
 see him alive again, and yet if I did not " 
 
 She opened her eyes wide and clasped and un- 
 clasped her hands. " It was the most horrible 
 moment of my life." 
 
 " My poor child ! " Miss Arbuthnot put her 
 hand timidly on the girl's arm. She suddenly 
 felt absurdly inexperienced in her presence. 
 
 " I got Ivan's saddle on him I don't know 
 just how and we started. It was about two 
 o'clock I remember. The prairie looked just like 
 the sea, at night only more lonesome and quite 
 silent. I was horribly frightened. Even Ivan 
 was frightened. He trembled all over it's a 
 
 85
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 terrible thing to see a horse tremble with 
 fright." 
 
 " Do you mean to say," demanded Professor 
 Arbuthnot, " that you rode twenty miles in the 
 dead of night, alone upon a Texas prairie ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered the girl mechanically. " It 
 was for Julian," she added as if in entire expla- 
 nation. 
 
 Miss Arbuthnot looked at her ; she could not 
 realize such wealth of courage and devotion. 
 She wondered with a sudden, hot shame whether 
 she would have dared it had she been in this 
 girl's place. 
 
 "I don't think I ever prayed before really 
 prayed you know," she ran on meditatively 
 as if she had forgotten the Professor's pres- 
 ence. " It was dawn when we got back." She 
 stopped entirely and looked out through the 
 window onto the cool green campus. Miss 
 Arbuthnot scarcely dared move. There was 
 something so intimate, almost sacred in the girl's 
 revelations. 
 
 "Did he live ? " she inquired softly at length. 
 
 The girl turned her face toward her. An al- 
 most illuminated look had come into it. 
 
 " Yes the doctor saved his life, but he said 
 if I had been two hours later ! " 
 
 " You saved his life ! " Professor Arbuthnot 
 
 86
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 got up and walked to the window. She could 
 not quite take it all in. The girl appeared entire- 
 ly different to her. She was looking at a woman 
 who had saved the life of the man she loved. 
 
 " And then " the girl gave a little laugh 
 " I fainted wasn't it ridiculous ? I am such an 
 idiot. It makes me ashamed to think of it now 
 when there was so much to be done and for 
 me to faint ! " She gave an impatient little shake 
 of the head. 
 
 " I am sure you never did anything so silly as 
 to faint ! " She glanced admiringly at Professor 
 Arbuthnot. 
 
 " I don't think I ever experienced any emo- 
 tion sufficiently strong to make me. " Miss Ar- 
 buthnot spoke so grimly that the girl jumped up 
 hurriedly. 
 
 "I'm awfully afraid I am boring you and 
 
 keeping you from your work " She gave a 
 
 glance at the manuscript upon the desk. " I'm 
 sure you are wanting to get at it, and think me 
 very troublesome to tell you all this about my- 
 self." 
 * Professor Arbuthnot looked at her a moment. 
 
 " Sit down ! " she said imperiously. " I am 
 learning more than if I were working on the 
 physical principles of the nebular theory ! " 
 
 The girl gave a gay, puzzled little laugh. 
 
 87
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 "Are you making fun of me? I'm sure I don't 
 know what you mean." 
 
 Miss Arbuthnot waved her remark away im- 
 patiently. 
 
 " And after you had recovered from your faint- 
 ing spell, what happened ? " 
 
 " Oh I helped the doctor and we pulled Ju- 
 lian through together somehow. And then I 
 went to work. He was ill all winter something 
 had to be done I sing fairly well " 
 
 " I remember now," broke in Miss Arbuthnot. 
 " You used to sing at College Vespers. I liked 
 your voice." 
 
 The girl gave a gasp of pleasure. She felt im- 
 mensely flattered that Professor Arbuthnot had 
 liked to hear her sing. 
 
 " Thank you," she said feelingly. " I got a 
 position in a church choir and I went into town 
 three days in the week and gave lessons. I made 
 four hundred dollars that winter." She broke off 
 with a little laugh. " I don't think I ever felt so 
 good in all my life as when I counted up and 
 found that I had really made four hundred dol- 
 lars for Julian! I never understood before 
 why poor people want to get married it's for 
 the fun of working for each other I think. It's 
 the most satisfying sensation I know of." She 
 glanced up at the woman beside the window.
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 Miss Arbuthnot nodded absently. She was 
 thinking of her safe investments she had ac- 
 cumulated a good deal of money during her long 
 years of teaching and her people had all been 
 well off and she had never given a cent to any- 
 one except in presents and trifling remembrances 
 and organized charitable work. A strange desire 
 grew upon her to share her life with someone. 
 She looked with troubled eyes at the girl who 
 had suddenly made her work and her life dissat- 
 isfying to her. 
 
 " I don't understand " she murmured " and 
 didn't you ever regret regret your wealth 
 and social position ? the other life you had 
 known ? " 
 
 " I think it's my turn not to understand," said 
 the girl slowly with a puzzled look. " You mean 
 did I regret marrying Julian ? " 
 
 Miss Arbuthnot nodded. An angry little flush 
 mounted to the girl's cheek, and then, as if the 
 mere thought was too amusing to be taken seri- 
 ously : 
 
 " Regret marrying Julian ? O ! Professor Ar- 
 buthnot and then there was little Julian, you 
 know. He was the dearest, the sweetest wait, 
 I have his picture." She pulled at a little silk 
 cord about her neck and drew forth a small 
 miniature case. In it, painted on porcelain, was
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 the head of a child with the blond beauty of its 
 mother. As the girl looked at it her eyes filled 
 with tears and she bent over it sobbing and kiss- 
 ing it passionately. 
 
 " That is all I have to regret," she said. " He 
 was two years old when he died that was 
 almost a year ago. I couldn't tell you what 
 he was like. I think he was the brightest, 
 prettiest, sweetest boy in the world. You ought 
 to have seen his hands and feet all dimples 
 and soft pinkiness and milky whiteness and 
 
 his eyes and long lashes !" she stopped 
 
 breathlessly. 
 
 Professor Arbuthnot looked at her wonder- 
 ingly. She went over to her and looked down 
 at the crushed figure. 
 
 " You have loved and loved again and lost. 
 You have been a mother and your child is dead," 
 she said slowly. " I would sympathize with you 
 if I knew how." 
 
 The girl caught her hand. 
 
 " How kind you are ! I never speak of this 
 I hardly know how I came to do so with you. I 
 am sure I must have wearied you." She put the 
 locket back and began to draw on her gloves 
 again slowly. 
 
 Professor Arbuthnot said nothing. In the last 
 hour she had had glimpses of a life and a love 
 80
 
 HOW KIND YOU ARE "
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 she had never known, and the revelation si- 
 lenced her. She had sometimes reproached 
 herself that the studious calm, the entire ab- 
 sorption of her life in her work had been exag- 
 gerated, and as she looked at the slight figure in 
 its black gown, at the pale face with its sombred, 
 youthful beauty, the conviction was borne in 
 upon her, by this little breath from the outside 
 world, by the life of this girl as told by her, 
 that the insularity of her existence had been 
 a mistake. A sudden intense dissatisfaction 
 and impatience with her life took hold upon 
 her. 
 
 The girl rose to go. She stood there hesitat- 
 ing, embarrassed, as if she wished to ask some- 
 thing, and rather dreaded doing so. 
 
 "I I shall have a great deal of time this win- 
 ter," she hazarded, twisting the ring of her fan 
 slowly round and round her finger, " and I am 
 going to study indeed I am ! " She glanced up 
 quickly, as if afraid Professor Arbuthnot might 
 be smiling. " I know you think it foolish for 
 me to try, but you don't know how you've in- 
 spired me this afternoon ! " She went on en- 
 thusiastically. " You and everything here make 
 me realize intensely how little I know, and I 
 am going to begin and really learn something. 
 You don't know how much obliged I'd be if 
 
 91
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 you would tell me a little how to begin what 
 to start on something easy, adapted for weak 
 intellects ! " 
 
 She looked up smiling and with heightened 
 color at Professor Arbuthnot. She still stood in 
 so much awe of her and was so afraid of being 
 laughed at ! 
 
 But that lady was not laughing at all. She 
 looked preternaturally grave. 
 
 " It seems to me," she said slowly, " that you 
 and the natural sciences can get along admirably 
 without each other. Why, child, you have lived ! " 
 she cried with sudden vehemence. She went 
 over and shook her gently by the shoulder. 
 " You are twenty-four and I am fifty ! In four 
 years you have crowded into your life more than 
 I shall ever learn ! " 
 
 The girl looked at her wonderingly, puzzled. 
 
 " Have you forgotten so soon what we heard 
 this afternoon that ' life is everything, that all 
 that you can learn in a hundred times the four 
 years of your college course is but the least part 
 of what life and nature can teach you ? ' ' She 
 pushed the girl toward the door. 
 
 " When you are tired of living come back to 
 me." 
 
 She stood and watched the girl, with the mys- 
 tified, half-hurt look on her face, disappear 
 
 92
 
 As Told by Her 
 
 down the corridor. When she had quite gone 
 she went in and stood at the window for a long, 
 long while looking out at the deepening shad- 
 ows, and then she seated herself grimly at her 
 desk and wrote to her publishers that they would 
 have to delay the appearance of her book, as she 
 felt she needed a vacation and would have to 
 give up work on it for awhile. 
 
 93
 
 A SHORT CAREER
 
 A SHORT CAREER 
 
 SHE was so noticeably pretty and stylish, 
 with that thorough-bred air of the young 
 girl to whom life has always been something 
 more or less of a social event, that she attracted 
 a great deal of attention, though, of course, she 
 very properly appeared to be oblivious of that 
 fact. Even the baggage-master, when she caught 
 his eye, hastened toward her and bestirred him- 
 self generally in a way that is not character- 
 istic of baggage-men on the Boston and Al- 
 bany, or any other road. She noticed vaguely 
 that he seemed rather surprised when she gave 
 him her four trunk-checks and he assured her 
 with elaborate politeness that the train would 
 stop at a certain small station without fail, to let 
 off several hundred young women who wished to 
 go directly to " the College." 
 
 When Miss Eva Hungerford, on the comple- 
 tion of an enthusiastic college career, wrote to 
 her young Philadelphia cousin, Margaret Wright, 
 that she ought to take a college course, it was 
 quite in despair of really inducing that young 
 
 97
 
 A Short Career 
 
 lady to do so, and only in the vain hope of sav- 
 ing her from an early and ill-considered mar- 
 riage with an extremely nice Harvard youth, 
 who declared that he would cheerfully forego 
 his senior year if her parents would give their 
 consent. 
 
 It was therefore with both delight and sur- 
 prise that, just before starting for Europe, Miss 
 Hungerford received a rather gloomy letter from 
 her young cousin, who said that with such a brill- 
 iant example before her, and deeply impressed 
 by the weighty arguments in her cousin's letter, 
 she had told the Harvard man that she was 
 much too young and ignorant to marry, and 
 fully convinced that society was a hollow sham, 
 she had determined to devote the next four 
 years to those pursuits which had raised her 
 cousin so far above the ordinary girl. She was 
 even greatly interested, she said, in her prep- 
 arations for the entrance examinations which 
 she would take at Philadelphia, and the chances 
 of her being admitted. Miss Hungerford was 
 quite touched by the little tribute to herself con- 
 tained in the letter, and wrote a most cordial 
 answer, and rather upbraided herself for having 
 thought so lightly of her cousin. But her 
 mother seemed to be distressingly sceptical 
 about Margaret's heroic determination, and said 
 
 98
 
 A Short Career 
 
 she shouldn't wonder if some misunderstanding 
 with the Harvard man were not at the bottom of 
 it. But Miss Hungerford was confident that 
 such a lofty purpose could have been born only 
 of some noble sentiment, and refused to have 
 her faith in her young cousin shaken by such a 
 supposition. 
 
 When Miss Wright got off the train at the 
 pretty little station, she found herself in the 
 midst of a sufficiently large crowd of young 
 women, all of whom seemed to be aggravatingly 
 well acquainted with each other, and who set 
 about in a most business-like way to get where 
 they wanted to go, some taking " barges " and 
 omnibuses, others striking out easily over the 
 roads hi the direction of the college. Being 
 totally unfamiliar with the place and somewhat 
 bewildered by the number of girls, Miss Wright 
 thought she would simply take a carriage and 
 get up to the college as quickly as possible. 
 
 She never told anyone but her best friend 
 what were her sensations on reaching the big 
 building and being "numbered" for an inter- 
 view with one of the assistant professors, in- 
 stead of seeing the president herself, as she had 
 expected to do ; or how hurt she felt at being 
 totally ignored by the vast majority of busy, 
 rather severe-looking young women, or how 
 
 99
 
 A Short Career 
 
 grateful she felt to a patronizing Sophomore who 
 talked to her kindly, if condescendingly, for a 
 few moments and who took her through unend- 
 ing corridors to her rooms. Later in the day 
 she found two or three girls who wore tailor- 
 made travelling gowns and seemed ill at ease, 
 and they all huddled together in a corner of one 
 of the big corridors and talked rather helplessly 
 to each other. They would have liked to know 
 what the peals on the big Japanese bell meant, 
 and if they were expected to do anything about 
 it, but they were afraid to ask anyone, because 
 they were not sure which were the professors 
 and which the students. 
 
 "When it came her turn to see the assistant, 
 she felt quite ready to go home. She had made 
 out a list of studies which she thought she would 
 like, but when she showed it to the professor, 
 that astute lady very kindly but firmly told her 
 that it was ill-advised and made her out another. 
 She had wanted to study mathematical astrono- 
 my, because a Harvard man had said a chum of 
 his studied it and found it " immense," and be- 
 sides she thought the name would impress her 
 friends ; but the professor pointed out to her that 
 she would have to take the entire course in math- 
 ematics before she could hope to do anything with 
 the astronomy. It was the same way with sev- 
 100
 
 eral other things, and she found, when the inter- 
 view was over, that her list consisted mostly of 
 freshman studies. She was rather disheartened 
 by this, but remembered that Miss Hungerford 
 had been a full freshman, and so she determined 
 to go to work conscientiously. 
 
 And she did work very hard, but there were a 
 great many young women who seemed to have 
 had a much more thorough previous education 
 than herself, and though she was not in the least 
 snobbish, she was secretly surprised and a little 
 bit aggrieved by their evident disregard of her 
 superior gowns. She might as well not even 
 curl her hair, she thought gloomily most of the 
 best students wore theirs back in a rather un- 
 compromising way, and she thought it might 
 have some influence for the better on her mind, 
 and half-way determined to do it. But when she 
 saw how she looked with it straight and pulled 
 quite back, she gave it up for fear the Harvard 
 man (who though so near, maintained a stony 
 silence and invisibility) should happen to come 
 over to the college to see some other girl. 
 
 When the winter concerts began and the 
 young women were inviting their friends out 
 from the " Tech " and Harvard and Amherst, 
 and other places which to any but the college 
 mind would seem appallingly distant, she sat 
 101
 
 A Short Career 
 
 resigned and alone, and wondered what her peo- 
 ple would think if they could see her looking so 
 sad and deserted. Her friends, she knew, would 
 feel sorry for her, and would at last believe in 
 her determination to go through the course. 
 
 When she had been at college about four 
 months and was beginning to realize how little 
 she knew, and how infinitely far off the president 
 still seemed, and the effect of the study of chem- 
 istry on a brain unprepared for it, and was pity- 
 ing herself for looking so pale and thin under 
 her anxieties one of the favorite concerts of the 
 year was given. A celebrated violinist and his 
 wife, a charming singer, were coming out. It was 
 the last concert before the Christmas holidays, 
 and one of the tailor-made girls with whom she 
 had become intimate since that miserable first 
 day had invited a lot of men out and had asked 
 her to help entertain them. As everyone knows, 
 it is a long-established custom in that college for 
 those young women who are so fortunate as to 
 have a large masculine acquaintance to ask their 
 friends to help them " take care " of the surplus 
 male element. 
 
 Miss Wright was feeling very blue that even- 
 ing and had just about made up her mind to 
 stay at the college through the Christmas vaca- 
 tion, that she might spare her parents the dis- 
 
 103
 
 tress of seeing her so worn and changed ; so that 
 when the tailor-made girl came to ask her to see 
 after some of her friends for her, she thought 
 that probably she was entitled to some recrea- 
 tion for the good resolution she had made. But 
 she was now much too indifferent to men and 
 such things to bestir herself very greatly, so she 
 only put on her next most becoming gown and 
 descended languidly to find the people. 
 
 Her friend saw her first and made a little dive 
 at her through the circle of youths around her, 
 and bore her to them with quite an air of tri- 
 umph. And then, while she was trying to 
 hear the names and remember where they came 
 from, she suddenly saw a Harvard man coming 
 toward her, and looking very much surprised 
 and intensely happy, and somewhat embarrassed. 
 She had just time to wish she had put on the 
 other gown, when the bell for the concert 
 sounded and everybody began to rush down the 
 corridor. Somehow they got left behind the 
 others, and as the place was crowded and they 
 did not seem to care much for the celebrated 
 violinist, who really played exceptionally well 
 that evening, they considerately took seats 
 against the wall behind everybody, where they 
 could talk to their hearts' content. 
 
 And they really must have talked quite a good 
 
 103
 
 A Short- Career 
 
 deal, for when the last bell sounded for all the 
 visitors to go and the driver of the big college 
 sleigh (which was really an omnibus on runners) 
 was shouting himself hoarse in the " centre " and 
 in nervous asides assuring the excited and ag- 
 grieved passengers already assembled and wait- 
 ing that they would all be late for the last train 
 that night if the remaining few did not hurry up 
 while all of this was going on, the Harvard 
 man was still sitting with her on the pedestal of 
 a plaster statue in a darkened corner of a cor- 
 ridor, assuring her that they could be married 
 just as soon as the finals were over, and that 
 though he was sure to be made a marshal he 
 would not wait for Class Day for anything which 
 he could then think of under the sun, and that 
 instead of sending out invitations to a spread 
 in Beck, he would give his friends a delightful 
 shock by substituting his wedding cards for 
 them, and while the other fellows were working 
 like beavers at the Tree, or rilling dance cards 
 for their friends, or wearing themselves to 
 shreds dancing with their friends' friends, they 
 could be in a boat half-way over to the other 
 side. And she was saying she didn't think she 
 would come back after Christmas so as to have 
 plenty of time to get her gowns and things ready, 
 and that she did not think she was really and 
 
 104
 
 A Short Career 
 
 truly fitted for college life ; which he interrupted 
 to assure her that he was certain she already 
 knew vastly more than he did, and that he would 
 telegraph her mother and father about the whole 
 thing before he slept, and that if the answer was 
 favorable he would send her some flowers the 
 next day as a token. And then when the coach- 
 man's patience had quite given out and they 
 heard the sleigh go dashing away from under the 
 porte-cochere, before she could realize it he had 
 kissed her once quickly and jumped down the 
 steps four at a time, and was out of the door 
 tearing after the vanishing coach. 
 
 The next afternoon Miss Wright received an 
 enormous box full of Mabel Morrison roses, and 
 her tailor-made friend, not understanding the 
 significance of the flowers, thought it was rather 
 shabby on her part not to offer her some. About 
 the same time of day the Harvard man sent a 
 long and explicit telegram to the agent of the 
 Cunard Line for the very best stateroom on a 
 steamer sailing on or about the 20th of the next 
 June, and blushed boyishly and then laughed 
 a little at its " previousness," as he signed the 
 application for " Mr. and Mrs. Roger Pervere, 
 New York," six months before his wedding-day. 
 
 105
 
 AN EPISODE
 
 AN EPISODE 
 
 JUDGE CAHILL drew his chair a trifle 
 nearer the fire and the tall, muscular young 
 man who was with him, and who bore so strik- 
 ing a resemblance to him as to be unmistak- 
 ably his son, dropped into one opposite. They 
 had finished their late dinner and were on the 
 way to the library, but the elder man had 
 paused before the big chimney-piece, standing 
 meditatively for a few moments, and had finally 
 seated himself comfortably and evidently with 
 no immediate intention of proceeding to the 
 library beyond. 
 
 " The whole arrangement is just what I have 
 planned and hoped for all my life," he said at 
 length, with a bright look at the young man op- 
 posite. " And we have a capital chance of talk- 
 ing it over together to-night. It is rather lucky 
 that your aunt is away for a few days, Dana. 
 Your sister will be delighted. You must write 
 to her at once that it is un fait accompli and that 
 she must leave college for over Sunday and 
 come in and celebrate with us ! " 
 
 109
 
 An Episode 
 
 " Oil ! it will doubtless seem a mere trifle to 
 Louise in comparison with her own arduous du- 
 ties and tasks," responded young Cahill, laugh- 
 ing a little and offering a cigar to his father, who 
 refused it with a slight shake of his fine, white 
 head. 
 
 " If you don't mind, I'll smoke one," he said, 
 lighting his own. 
 
 " Oh ! I don't mind at all," said the elder man ; 
 and then absently and sadly, as he pushed the 
 thick, silvery hair back from his forehead with 
 a quick decisive motion habitual with him : 
 
 " I wish your mother could have lived to see 
 this, Dana ! " 
 
 The younger man made an inarticulate mur- 
 mur of assent and regret, and then they both sat 
 silent, staring into the crackling logs, while the 
 butler moved noiselessly about, putting a de- 
 canter and glasses on the table and turning 
 down the lamp a bit and folding back the screen. 
 The younger man was making a rather unsuccess- 
 ful attempt to recall his mother. He remem- 
 bered her vaguely as a boy of eight remembers, 
 and she had always seemed to him rather like 
 some beautiful woman of whom he had read 
 than his own mother ; and the portrait of her in 
 the drawing-room, although he could recall every 
 feature, every line of it, was like the picture of 
 no
 
 An Episode 
 
 any other beautiful woman he might have seen 
 in a gallery abroad or the year's Academy. At 
 last he looked up, and shaking the ash from his 
 cigar, said, with rather an effort 
 
 "You have been most kind, sir. I scarcely 
 think I deserve so much at your hands. I shall 
 try to be all you wish." 
 
 Judge Cahill looked quickly around. " That's 
 right ! that's right, my boy ! " he said heartily, 
 and with a touch of surprise in his voice. " You 
 have always been what I wished not very stu- 
 dious, perhaps " he laughed indulgently, " but 
 you always stood fairly well at the University, 
 and although you have doubtless done a great 
 many things of which I know nothing and of 
 which I do not wish to know," he added quickly 
 and decidedly, " still I believe you have lived a 
 life which you have no need to be ashamed of. 
 I know that you are honest, and truthful, and 
 straight, and that I can trust you, and that the 
 responsibilities which you are to assume will 
 make you even more upright and ' square,' if 
 possible." 
 
 He glanced admiringly and affectionately at 
 the athletic young figure sitting easily before 
 him, at the well-shaped head and pleasant blue 
 eyes and finely-cut mouth of the young man. 
 
 " You might have been so different," went on 
 in
 
 An Episode 
 
 the older man, musingly, and with a certain 
 whimsicality. "You might never have been 
 willing to go through the University ; or worse 
 still, you might never have been able to get 
 through ; or you might have made debts that 
 even I would not have felt willing or able to 
 pay ; or you might have been unwilling to sup- 
 plement your college education with the years 
 of travel which I thought necessary ; or you 
 might have had so decided a dislike for the law 
 that it would have been impossible for me to 
 take you in the firm as I am now so delighted, 
 so proud to do ; or you might have married too 
 soon and ruined your life. In short, you might 
 have been a disappointment and you are not." 
 
 The young man shifted his position a little, 
 and tumbled the burnt end of his cigar into the 
 ash-tray at his elbow. 
 
 "You are very kind, sir," he repeated. "I 
 am not quite equal to telling you just how kind 
 you seem to me, and how proud I am to be the 
 junior member of the firm. I feel a legal enthu- 
 siasm kindling within me which I am sure 
 will land me on the Supreme Bench some day ! " 
 And then he went on more seriously, and with 
 an anxious note in his voice. " But I hope you 
 are not deceiving yourself about me, sir. If you 
 remember, you did have to pay debts for me at 
 112
 
 An Episode 
 
 the University, and there was one time when I 
 thought active measures would be taken to pre- 
 vent my finishing my course even if I had been 
 quite inclined to continue, as indeed I was ; and 
 I am not very clever, and shall never be at the 
 head of my profession as you are, sir ! " 
 
 Judge Cahill leaned back and laughed easily. 
 
 " I had quite forgotten those little incidents, 
 Dana ! " he said, " and do you know, it seems to 
 me that we are unusually complimentary and 
 effusive to each other to-night. I am congratu- 
 lating myself on having such a son, and you on 
 having me for your father ! Well it is not a 
 bad idea. A little more demonstration in our 
 family will not hurt anything." He paused 
 slightly, and then added : " Your mother was not 
 very demonstrative." 
 
 Again young Cahill murmured an assent as ho 
 looked reflectively into the fire. He could just 
 remember that she had not seemed very fond of 
 himself. 
 
 "But Louise is demonstrative enough," he 
 said, at length. 
 
 " Yes yes, indeed," replied his father, read- 
 ily. " Louise is very affectionate and enthu- 
 siastic. She seems tremendously interested in 
 her college much more so than you were in 
 yours," ho added with another laugh. 
 
 113
 
 An Episode 
 
 Dana Cahill got up leisurely, and stood by 
 the chimney-piece thrusting his hands in his 
 pockets and looking thoughtfully into the fire. 
 
 " I am thinking, sir," he began, hesitatingly, 
 " of what you have said about my having lived 
 straight. I want to be fair about it. I have 
 lived better than some. I have done nothing to 
 be ashamed of, as you said, sir, and I cannot 
 think of anything just now to speak of which 
 would illustrate my point. But I cannot help 
 thinking that your ideals and principles are so 
 much higher and purer than those of most 
 young men of to-day, that I may have fallen 
 short of them in a great many ways of which 
 you do not dream." He moved back uneasily to 
 his chair and dropped into it. " I do not mean 
 in the more vital questions. I have done noth- 
 ing dishonorable, nothing that I could not afford 
 to do according to the world's standard." 
 
 The elder man looked at him, and a shade of 
 annoyance and uneasiness crept into his face. 
 
 " Well? " he asked, finally. 
 
 Young Cahill looked up, and his frank, boyish 
 face wore a rather perplexed, troubled expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " Well," he said, " that's all unless " he 
 stopped suddenly and lit another cigar rather 
 nervously. 
 
 114
 
 An Episode 
 
 " Unless what ? " insisted the elder man, the 
 uneasiness and annoyance betraying themselves 
 in his voice. 
 
 "But," he added, quickly; "don't tell me 
 anything that you might later regret telling, or 
 anything very disagreeable if you can help it, 
 for I confess you have been so satisfactory, so 
 thoroughly all that I wanted my son to be, that 
 I shrink from hearing anything to your detri- 
 ment." 
 
 " I don't know that it is exactly to my detri- 
 ment, for after all, I was thinking of a particular 
 case to illustrate w r hat I said a while ago, and I 
 am pretty sure that most of the men I know 
 wouldn't think seriously of it for a moment ; but 
 I acknowledge that I have never felt satisfied 
 with myself about it all." He threw back his 
 head and stared fixedly at the ceiling for a mo- 
 ment, and then burst out laughing. 
 
 " By Jove, sir ! we are getting demonstra- 
 tive," he said. " Do you feel yourself equal to 
 being a father confessor besides just an ordinary 
 father?" 
 
 Judge Cahill smiled in a perfunctory way. 
 
 " If your conscience is in such a bad way as 
 to need confessing, Dana, I shall be very glad 
 to hear, although I, of course, cannot give you 
 absolution." 
 
 115
 
 An Episode 
 
 Cahill paused a moment. 
 
 " That's so, sir," he said, finally. " After all 
 it is hardly worth while troubling you about 
 such a small thing, and one that happened so 
 long ago, and which is settled now, rightly or 
 wrongly, forever." 
 
 He stood up as if to say good-night, but the 
 elder man did not rise and sat looking thought- 
 fully at the blaze with the uneasy, surprised 
 look still on his face. 
 
 "It is not about business ? nothing that af- 
 fects your character for honesty and fair deal- 
 ing ? " he said at length, interrogatively. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " replied Cahill, quickly. 
 
 Judge Cahill looked inexpressively relieved. 
 He poured out a little wine and drank it off 
 quickly, as if he had experienced some moment 
 of sharp emotion which had left him faint. The 
 younger man noticed the action and went on 
 hastily. 
 
 " It was nothing only about a girl whom you 
 never heard of, and myself something that hap- 
 pens to two-thirds of the men one meets it is 
 really of little consequence, though it has wor- 
 ried me, and since I have spoken of it at all, I 
 may as well tell you about it, sir." 
 
 But it was a very fragmentary story that he 
 told and the facts, as he reviewed them hastily, 
 
 116
 
 An Episode 
 
 seemed absurdly commonplace and inadequate 
 to the amount of worry he had given himself. 
 
 '' It was five years ago, sir, you remember, 
 just after I left college, and went out to Nevada 
 for the summer with Lord Deveridge and the 
 rest of that English syndicate. It was when 
 they bought ' The Bish ' mine, you know. Of 
 course we went about a great deal. They were 
 so afraid of being swindled, and there had been 
 such pots of money lost out there by English 
 syndicates, that they determined to investigate 
 fully and take every precaution. So they went 
 around trying to sift things out, and there were 
 a great many complications of all sorts which 
 occasioned a great deal of delay, and there were 
 so many conflicting rumors about the value of 
 the mine, that I began to think they were never 
 going to wind up things. Deveridge and I got 
 awfully tired of pottering around after all sorts 
 of men, meeting an expert geologist here and a 
 committee there, and never getting at anything ; 
 so we finally decided to cut the whole thing for 
 two weeks and go off on a little shooting expedi- 
 tion. Two or three others joined us, and we had 
 magnificent sport for four days and then I 
 sprained my bad ankle again." He stopped 
 suddenly. " It is very curious how things hap- 
 pen," he said at length, with a little laugh. " If 
 
 117
 
 An Episode 
 
 it hadn't rained the morning of the Springfield 
 game, the ground wouldn't have been wet and I 
 wouldn't have slipped in that last scrimmage, 
 and my ankle wouldn't have been sprained, and 
 I wouldn't have wrenched it on that mountain 
 road, and I wouldn't have been laid up two 
 weeks in the house with her, and none of this 
 would have happened." 
 
 But the elder man was in no mood for trifling. 
 
 " You were saying ? " he began, anxiously. 
 
 " That I hurt my ankle and had to limp to 
 the nearest inhabited place and stay there until 
 it got better. Of course the others went on. 
 They were coming back that way and stopped 
 for me. I was all broken up at not being able 
 to enjoy the shooting, but my ankle gave me so 
 much trouble at first that I didn't have a great 
 deal of time to think about it ; and then it be- 
 gan to dawn on me that she the daughter I 
 mean was unusually pretty and refined and 
 quite different from her parents seemingly, and 
 and there was nothing else to do, sir, and I 
 am afraid that I acted as most young men would 
 act under similar circumstances." 
 
 " You mean," said his father, with an uncom- 
 promising directness which Cahill thought rather 
 brutal and unnecessary, "you mean that you 
 made love to the girl ? " 
 
 118
 
 An Episode 
 
 The young man nodded. 
 
 " She was very pretty, you know, and it was 
 only for a short time, and she must have seen 
 have realized that there was a difference, that 
 there was nothing to it. It was only the most 
 incipient flirtation the same thing that goes on 
 at Bar Harbor and the Pier and Newport among 
 a different class of people." 
 
 Judge Cahill said nothing, rather to the young 
 man's discomfiture, so he ran on, hurriedly : 
 
 " They were very poor, and I paid them lib- 
 erally for what they did for me. I confess I 
 rather lost my head about the girl for a week ! 
 She was strikingly pretty, but she had only the 
 most elementary education and was absurdly 
 unconventional. Of course it was nothing, sir, 
 and I don't flatter myself that she felt any worse 
 when I left than I did at least she never made 
 any sign," he added, meditatively. 
 
 " I can see how, from your point of view, it 
 appeared nothing, Dana," said the elder man, 
 gravely, at length. " But I hope this is the 
 only episode of the kind in your life," he con- 
 tinued, after a moment's pause. 
 
 The younger man stood up with a rather re- 
 lieved look on his face. 
 
 " Indeed it is, sir ! and I think the fact that I 
 have let it worry me so much is proof that I am 
 
 119
 
 An Episode 
 
 a novice at it. The whole thing was so unim- 
 portant that I feel rather ridiculous for having 
 spoken of it. There was never anything serious 
 in the affair, and of course, sir, I did not dream 
 I knew it would be impossible to bring her 
 
 here. You my sister " he stopped and 
 
 looked around him rather helplessly. 
 
 " Of course," assented the elder man, readily. 
 " I am glad you got yourself so cleanly out of 
 such an entanglement. As you say, it was com- 
 monplace and unimportant. Have you ever 
 heard anything of her since ? " 
 
 " O, no ! I saw her for two weeks and then 
 we parted with mutual regret, and that was all, 
 sir ! Your too complimentary remarks recalled 
 the whole episode to niy mind, and made me feel 
 rather hypocritical, for I confess that I consider 
 that sort of thing extremely caddish. There's 
 no excuse for it." 
 
 " There is not, indeed," assented the elder 
 man, rising. " And it has further surprised me, 
 because you have always seemed rather indif- 
 ferent to women, Dana almost too much so. 
 "Well I am glad you told me. Your life has 
 been clean, indeed, if you have no worse things 
 to tell of than a two weeks' flirtation with a little 
 Western girl ! " He laughed again a deep, 
 hearty laugh, with a relieved ring in it. 
 120
 
 An Episode 
 
 " Good-night ! " he said. " To-morrow you 
 will please get to the office promptly as a junior 
 member should ! ' Cahill, Crosby, and Cahill ' 
 sounds very imposing, doesn't it, Dana ? much 
 more so than merely ' Cahill and Crosby.' I'm 
 delighted, my boy ! And it is especially good 
 to think that you are back with me. What with 
 your college life and travels, and law study, I 
 have hardly seen anything of you for ten years, 
 and at my age one cannot spare ten years it is 
 too big a slice out of the little cake left ! Good- 
 night ! " 
 
 " Good-night, sir ! " responded the young man, 
 heartily, as he held the door open for his father 
 to pass into the library. 
 
 And then he reseated himself before the fire 
 and smoked another cigar and recalled a great 
 many details that had somehow slipped his 
 memory when talking to his father, and he felt 
 distinctly relieved and glad to get away from his 
 own thoughts when he remembered an engage- 
 ment which took him out immediately. 
 
 At Easter Miss Louise Cahill left college to 
 spend the vacation at her home in Boston. It 
 was possibly because she was small and blond 
 and quite irrepressible that her most intimate 
 friend, Edith Minot, of Baltimore, whom she 
 121
 
 An Episode 
 
 brought home with her, was tall and rather 
 stately, with a dark, severe beauty quite in con- 
 trast to that of Miss Cahill. They were alike, 
 however, in a great many ways, in their young 
 enthusiasms and in their devotion to art they 
 worshipped Israels and Blommers and Herzog 
 and in their vast interest in electrical inventions 
 and discoveries, and in their sympathy with 
 whatever was weak or ill or oppressed, and in 
 modern charities and college settlements. They 
 had been great friends at college, where Miss 
 Minot had taken her degree the year before, but 
 they had seen little of each other since, Miss 
 Cahill having returned to finish her college 
 course and Miss Minot having been abroad until 
 late in the fall, and having then been much 
 taken up with the social life of Baltimore. 
 
 Miss Cahill was very much afraid that society 
 had spoiled Miss Minot, and that she would be 
 less interested in art for art's sake, and in uni- 
 versity extensions and college settlements and 
 organized charitable work. She was therefore 
 much delighted and very enthusiastic to find 
 that her friend was not at all changed in the ten 
 months of absence, but that in the midst of her 
 travels and social pleasures she had contrived to 
 devote a great deal of time to the things that 
 had always interested her, and that she had stud- 
 
 122
 
 An Episode 
 
 led the Guild Hall Loan Exhibit and the East 
 End with equal enthusiasm, while in London, 
 and was greatly interested in Nikola Tesla's 
 latest experiments and in college settlements. 
 It was the college settlements that interested her 
 most, however. 
 
 " But I think," she explained earnestly that 
 evening to her friend and young Cahill, after 
 the Judge and his sister had gone into the li- 
 brary " I think that although there are more 
 interesting and dreadful things to be contended 
 with at the Chicago Settlement, and although 
 Rivington Street is on a much larger scale, still 
 I think I like the Boston College Settlement the 
 most. Perhaps it's because I know it better, or 
 because it is not quite in the slummiest slums, or 
 because I'm so interested in my protegee there 
 at any rate, I like it best." 
 
 Miss Cahill looked plaintively at her bro- 
 ther. 
 
 " Just think, Dana, when Edith was at college 
 she used to spend her Christmas vacations in 
 Tyler Street. Don't you think she's very brave 
 aud good ? I'm sure I'm only too glad to give 
 my money, and I'm greatly interested in it, and 
 awfully pleased when the others go ; but I don't 
 think I could possibly stay there myself ! And 
 I actually believe she came near refusing my in- 
 
 133
 
 An Episode 
 
 vitation to come here, because she thought she 
 ought to go to the settlement ! " 
 
 Cahill laughed easily. 
 
 " That is hard on us, Miss Minot. Think of 
 having to compete in attractions with the college 
 settlement, and only just managing to come out 
 ahead ! " He was not thinking very much of 
 what he was saying he was looking at the 
 sombre, beautiful eyes, with the lids slightly 
 lowered over them, and the sensitively cut lips 
 and air of thorough breeding of the girl before 
 him ; and he was saying to himself that he had 
 been singularly unfortunate to have always been 
 away in Japan, or at the law school, or in Paris, 
 when Miss Minot had visited his sister. 
 
 A little touch of color crept into the clear pal- 
 lor of the girl's cheeks. 
 
 " How unkind of you and Louise ! " she ex- 
 claimed, smiling. " You must know there could 
 be no question of what was nicest to me. I'm 
 very sorry that I like dances and the opera and 
 luncheons and all that so much, but it is so, and 
 the people at the college settlement are very 
 good to let me come in now and then, and try to 
 help a little and ease my conscience a little for 
 all its self-indulgence and worldly pleasures. So 
 you must not think better of me than you 
 should ! " 
 
 124
 
 An Episode 
 
 " Don't believe her, Dana ! " interposed Miss 
 Cahill, indignantly. " She does it all because 
 she's so awfully good, and she never brags about 
 it as I would do, I'm sure, and they all adore 
 her down there, and the little boys beg for her 
 flowers, and the little girls have to be kissed, and 
 the teachers are always delighted to see her," 
 she ran on, breathlessly and triumphantly. 
 
 Miss Minot looked up. " I do love the little 
 children and they interest me tremendously," 
 she said. She leaned forward eagerly, and ap- 
 pealed to Cahill. "Don't you see," she said, 
 "how easy it is to become interested in that sort 
 of thing ? One doesn't have to be particularly 
 religiously inclined or even ordinarily good it's 
 just the human nature of it which touches one 
 so. You ought to see them," she went on, still 
 appealing to Cahill. " They are so interested 
 and amused in their ' clubs,' which meet differ- 
 ent afternoons in the week, and they are so anx- 
 ious to get in even before the others leave ! I 
 have seen them climbing up in the windows to 
 get a look at the good times the others were 
 having, and waiting about at the door in the 
 cold until that ' club ' should have gone homo 
 and left the warm rooms and the playthings, 
 and the cheerful, bright teachers to them. It 
 rather puts our society functions to shame, 
 
 .125
 
 An Episode 
 
 where no one goes to a reception until the re- 
 ceiving hours are half over, or to the opera 
 until next to the last act." 
 
 " And you ought to see how fond they are of 
 her," insisted Miss Cahill, admiringly. " She lets 
 them get on her prettiest gowns and muss her, 
 and she is so patient ! I keep at a distance, and 
 tell them they are very good and I hope they 
 are having a nice time." 
 
 Cahill laughed. 
 
 " Philanthropy made easy, is what suits you, 
 Louise ! " 
 
 "But it isn't philanthropy at all," objected 
 Miss Minot, " unless it's philanthropy to us out- 
 siders to be allowed to go and help and share 
 a little of the pleasure and culture of our selfish 
 lives. Really you ought to see the children," 
 she went on, eagerly. " I don't believe Palmer 
 Cox's brownies or ' pigs in clover ' are such 
 favorites anywhere else, and you wouldn't im- 
 agine how interesting the making of a pin-cush- 
 ion cover could be ; and I never thought ' Daisy 
 Bell,' and ' Sweet Marie,' and ' Mollie and the 
 Baby and I,' were really pretty tunes until I 
 heard a little girls' club singing them in excel- 
 lent tune, and with an appreciation of the senti- 
 ments quite astonishing." 
 
 Cahill nodded a trifle absently. He decided 
 
 126
 
 An Episode 
 
 that he had never seen any girl's face quite as 
 lovely or that appealed to him so as this girl's, 
 and that she was very different from most of his 
 sister's college friends, who were such serious 
 young women and who rather over-awed him, 
 and with whom he was never entirely at his 
 ease. 
 
 " And then the women in the evening ! They 
 like the singing best, I think. It is wonderful 
 to watch them when she sings for them, and I 
 think her voice never sounds so beautiful as 
 then." 
 
 Cahill looked up interrogatively. 
 
 "She?" he said. 
 
 "It's her protegee, Dana," interposed Miss 
 Cahill. " Edith won't tell you the straight of it, 
 so I shall. Edith found her already at the 
 settlement. She was awfully poor, but she had 
 this glorious voice and she was trying to support 
 herself, and earn enough to have her voice 
 trained. And she would come over Sunday 
 evenings she lived near the settlement and 
 sing for the men and women. You ought to 
 see how they appreciate it and how they listen to 
 her quite quietly, as if astonished and charmed 
 into silence. She is nearly as poor as they, and 
 it is all she can do for them, she says I forget 
 what she did, type-writing or something and she 
 
 137
 
 . An Episode 
 
 was going to an awfully bad teacher and getting 
 her voice mined, and so Edith made friends 
 with her in that way. She has now sent her to 
 Alden and really supports her so she can devote 
 herself entirely to her music." 
 
 Miss Minot glanced quickly up in a little em- 
 barrassed way. 
 
 " Louise is terrible ! " she said, laughing. 
 " But you cannot imagine how wonderfully 
 beautiful her voice is. It is one of those natur- 
 ally perfect voices she had always sung, but 
 never suspected what an extraordinary gift she 
 had until two or three years ago. It's such a 
 tremendous satisfaction to do something for a 
 voice like that. One gets so tired spending on 
 one's self and cultivating one's own little society 
 voice, that can just be heard across the drawing- 
 room if everyone keeps quite still ! Alden says 
 she will be ready for Marchesi in six months, 
 and for the Grand Opera in a year." 
 
 " And one of these days, when she is a great 
 prima donna and has married a marquis, or a 
 count at least, she will come back and patronize 
 you and send you a box for the matinee ! " re- 
 marked Cahill. 
 
 Miss Minot shook her head smilingly. 
 
 " You are very cynical and you don't know 
 her in the least. She is very beautiful and 
 138
 
 An Episode 
 
 very fine and most grateful absurdly grate- 
 ful." 
 
 " And she adores Edith," put in Miss Cahill. 
 " She has been her only friend and confidant, 
 and she worships her and treats her as if she 
 were a goddess, and I believe she would have 
 her hands chopped off or her eyes burned out, or 
 be executed quite cheerfully, to show her devo- 
 tion." 
 
 Miss Minot looked openly amused. " I don't 
 know about all that, I'm sure ! " she said, " but 
 I don't think she would patronize me. Besides 
 it would not be strange if she were cynical and 
 hard like yourself, Mr. Cahill," she went on 
 smiling over at him, " for she has had a great 
 deal of trouble already." The girl pushed her 
 chair back a little, and her fine, earnest face grew 
 grave and perplexed. 
 
 Miss Cahill gave a little gasp. " I "knew she 
 had a history, Edith ! She looks like it. She 
 is awfully pretty," she went on, turning to her 
 brother. " I have seen her several times at the 
 settlement, but we are not friends yet I doubt 
 if she even knows my name. I would like to 
 know her, though there is something so sad 
 about her eyes and mouth, and her voice makes 
 one cry." 
 
 "And Alden you know Alden, Mr. Cahill? 
 
 129
 
 An Episode 
 
 well, he's rather brutal, sometimes thinks only 
 of his art and he told her one day that she was 
 particularly fortunate to have had a great trouble 
 in her life, and that it would do more for her 
 voice than ten years of training. You ought to 
 have seen how she looked at him ! But men are 
 brutal ; it was a man who made her suffer first. 
 She only told me part of the story, I don't quite 
 understand, but I know it nearly broke her 
 heart, young as she was, and that she will never 
 get over it or be the same again. I am not 
 sure," went on the girl thoughtfully, " it was be- 
 fore she came to Boston, but I don't know the 
 details, and of course I could ask no questions. 
 She met him quite a while ago, out "West, I be- 
 lieve, where she lived, and she thought he loved 
 her, he led her to believe so, and she loved him, 
 I know. He must have been quite different 
 from the men she had known. He had every- 
 thing and she nothing. It was a sort of King 
 Cophetua and the Beggar Maid episode, only the 
 king was not kingly at all, and when the time 
 came for him to go, he left her quite calmly." 
 
 Her face was flushed now and her eyes wide 
 open and shining with the indignation she felt. 
 It struck Cahill again that she was the hand- 
 somest girl he had ever seen, and he liked her so 
 aroused and animated even better than coldly 
 
 130
 
 An Episode 
 
 beautiful. He was not listening very much to 
 what she was saying, but he was watching her 
 quietly and intently, the nobly poised head and 
 low forehead with the hair growing so beauti- 
 fully on it, and the rounded chin and firm, rather 
 square jaw. As he looked at her the conviction 
 was borne in upon him that she was a girl who 
 would be capable of entire devotion or utter re- 
 nunciation, and that she would be implacable if 
 her confidence were once destroyed. 
 
 " It must be a fine thing for a man to do," 
 she went on, scornfully, " to make a girl love him 
 and believe him nobler, and better, and stronger 
 than he is, and then to undeceive her so cruelly ! 
 And a girl like this one, too! That was the 
 worst of it. It is bad enough when the girl and 
 the man have equal chances when they know 
 each other's weapons and skill, and when they can 
 retire gracefully and before it is too late, or when 
 they are already so scarred up that one wound 
 more makes no difference. But when the ad- 
 vantages are all on one side when one is so 
 much stronger than the other ! It may be be- 
 cause I am so fond of this girl, or it may be be- 
 cause I am even yet unused to the world's ways, 
 and the four years spent in college and away 
 from such things may have made me super- 
 sensitive, but however it may be, it seems a des- 
 
 131
 
 An Episode 
 
 picable thing to me ! " She stopped short, and 
 the indignation and scorn in her voice rang out 
 sharply. 
 
 Cahill moved uneasily and looked around 
 him. He had been so absorbed in watching 
 the girl's face that he had hardly taken hi what 
 she had been saying, but in some vague way he 
 felt jarred and restless. 
 
 " And then," continued Miss Minot, " if only 
 she did not take it as she does if she were 
 only angry, or indifferent, or revengeful even 
 but she loves him still and she would do any- 
 thing for him. She would be capable to-morrow 
 of sacrificing herself and her love if she thought 
 it would make him happier. Such devotion is 
 as rare as genius." 
 
 Miss Cahill leaned far forward, tracing out the 
 delicate inlaid pattern of the table with the 
 point of her silver letter-opener. 
 
 "If I were engaged to a man," she said, 
 thoughtfully, " and were to discover that he had 
 treated a girl so, I would give him up, no matter 
 what it cost me." 
 
 " And you, Miss Minot? " said Cahill, " what 
 would you do ? " He felt a sudden, sharp curi- 
 osity as to her answer, and a vague apprehen- 
 sion of what she would say. The girl lifted her 
 head proudly. 
 
 133
 
 An Episode 
 
 " It would not be any effort for me to give 
 such a man up," she said, quietly. 
 
 Cahill stood up restlessly. This girl had 
 touched upon something which he would have 
 liked to forget. Of course it had been great- 
 ly different in his case, he assured himself, but 
 he felt uneasy and sore. And then he smiled. 
 There was something which struck him as pathe- 
 tically amusing in the seriousness of these two 
 girls. They were so young and untried and 
 utterly unworldly, and they took such a tragic 
 view of such a common-place affair, and were so 
 ready to be sacrificed for their high ideals and 
 principles. 
 
 " You are very severe," he said at length, with 
 a rather forced laugh. " If we are all to be 
 judged like that it will go hard with us." But 
 he could attempt no excuse or explanation with 
 the girl's beautiful, indignant eyes upon him, and 
 presently the talk drifted off in other channels. 
 
 It was about two weeks after this that Cahill 
 began to realize just how deeply in love he was 
 with Edith Minot. She had interested him from 
 the first, and her very dissimilarity from most 
 of the society girls he knew, the nobility and 
 seriousness of her nature beneath a rather cold 
 and conventional manner, and the young purity 
 of her presence had struck him as being the 
 
 133
 
 An Episode 
 
 finest and most attractive things he had ever 
 seen. He had been with her a great deal in the 
 two weeks she had spent with his sister, and he 
 had had a great many opportunities of finding 
 out just how superior she was to most girls, how 
 witty and clever she could be, and what native 
 dignity and fine simplicity of character she pos- 
 sessed, and how sincere and truthful she was. 
 They had gone together to teas and receptions, 
 and small dances, and the numerous post-Easter 
 weddings, and the fact that she was his sister's 
 guest made it very easy for him to see a great 
 deal of her without any gossip or talk. But de- 
 lightful as all that had been, he was glad now 
 that she was going back in a few days to her 
 own people, and that he could go down in a de- 
 cently short time and tell her what he could not 
 tell her in his father's house and which he had 
 found so hard to withhold. The uncertainty in 
 which he was as to whether she cared for him or 
 not made him restless and very properly de- 
 spondent, although he sometimes fancied that she 
 was less cold to him than to the others, and that if 
 she talked with him about certain things of par- 
 ticular interest to her, it was because she valued 
 his opinion and friendship. And he was much 
 pleased and very flattered when she appealed 
 to him about her different schemes, and was even 
 
 134
 
 An Episode 
 
 ready to sacrifice their last day to the college 
 settlement. 
 
 " I really must go to Tyler Street to-day," 
 Miss Miiiot had said. " It's my last chance. I 
 have been very selfish, and have been having 
 entirely too good a time. Why, I haven't even 
 seen my boys or heard the Prima Donna Con- 
 tessa ! " She turned and smiled at Cahill as she 
 spoke. "By the way," she continued, "why 
 don't you and Louise come with me and hear 
 her sing ? I have sent her a note telling her 
 to meet me at the settlement at four o'clock, 
 and I know she will be only too pleased to sing 
 for us. It is quite wonderful, you know." 
 
 " Of course we will go," assented Miss Cahill 
 briskly, while her brother asquiesced cheerfully, 
 if less enthusiastically. It occurred to him that 
 it would be as well for him not to be alone with 
 Miss Minot any more, if he intended to hold 
 to his resolution of not speaking just yet. 
 
 It was rather late when they started for the set- 
 tlement, and by the time they had walked down 
 Tyler Street from Kneeland they left the car- 
 riage at the corner of Kneeland they found that 
 it was quite four and time for a club, the mem- 
 bers of which were enthusiastically crowding 
 around the door waiting for permission to enter, 
 and playing leap-frog and tag and imperilling 
 
 135
 
 An Episode 
 
 life and limb by walking on the spiked iron 
 fence in their frantic attempts to see in the 
 windows. But when they caught sight of Miss 
 Minot they stopped playing and jumped down 
 from the fence and threw away their shinny 
 sticks, and began to all talk at once at her, and 
 to tell her what they had been doing during the 
 winter, and that they hadn't been absent from 
 school but twice or ten times, or not at all, as 
 the case happened to be, and they all seemed to 
 have had a surprising number of deadly diseases, 
 of which fact they were inordinately proud ; and 
 there were several still on the waiting list, who 
 wanted her to intercede for them to have their 
 names put in the club books, so they could go 
 in and have a good time with the others ; to all 
 of which, and a great deal more, she listened 
 sympathetically and interestedly. And as she 
 stood so, the eager, softened expression on her 
 face, laughing and talking with the children 
 crowding around her, the boys grabbing at her 
 hands and the little girls touching shyly the 
 gown she wore, it seemed to Cahill that he had 
 never seen her quite so lovely and lovable. He 
 felt an amused sort of jealousy as he saw her 
 run lightly up the steps with her slim hands 
 held tightly by two very dirty and very affec- 
 tionate little boys, with the rest swarming after 
 
 136
 
 An Episode 
 
 her and liemming her in; and when the front 
 door was finally opened and she and his sister 
 disappeared with them into the rooms beyond, 
 he felt rather aggrieved and out of it. 
 
 He found himself in a narrow little hall and 
 was just wondering what he should do with his 
 hat and stick, when she came out from the inner 
 room, closing the door behind her. She was 
 laughing in a breathless, pleased way, and her 
 face had a little flush on it as she turned to him. 
 
 "Please take off my coat," she gasped, lean- 
 ing against the balustrade of the steep little 
 stairs. " I'm going to amuse them until the 
 Prima Donna comes she isn't here, at least I 
 don't see her anywhere. Louise is playing for 
 them now." Cahill could just catch the sounds 
 of a piano above the shrill laughter of the 
 children. They were quite alone in the little 
 hallway, and as he bent down to take off her 
 coat, a sudden, wild impulse overcame him. 
 He forgot everything except that he loved her 
 and must tell her so, and he held her tightly 
 while he spoke rapidly and earnestly. It sud- 
 denly seemed preposterous to him that he could 
 have dreamed of waiting another week to find 
 out whether she loved him or not ; she must tell 
 him then and there, he said, quick, before any- 
 one came. And although she did not, in fact, 
 
 137
 
 An Episode 
 
 tell him anything at all, he was so content with 
 her eyes as she turned toward him that, bend- 
 ing down, he gave her one quick kiss after an- 
 other. 
 
 And then the sound of the piano ceased and 
 they heard a scramble of running feet at the 
 door, which was thrown open by Miss Cahill. 
 
 " Where are you ? come in ! " she cried. 
 
 As Cahill and Miss Minot went into the room 
 beyond, a girl came slowly down the stairs which 
 they had just left. Her face was pitifully white 
 and drawn, and there was a scared, surprised 
 look in her eyes which was not good to see. 
 When she reached the lowest step she stopped 
 thoughtfully, leaning heavily against the stairs' 
 rail. 
 
 " I saw them," she said, softly and tremulous- 
 ly to herself. " I saw them, and there is no pos- 
 sibility of a mistake. I don't understand any- 
 thing about it how it has happened but it 
 was he it was lie ! If she loves him and she 
 does love him I saw it in her face, there is but 
 one thing for me to do there is no other way 
 now." She put both hands on the banister 
 and swayed slightly toward it in her effort to 
 control herself. " She has been everything to 
 me, has done everything for me. And if I love 
 him and I do love him! there is a million 
 
 138
 
 An Episode 
 
 times more necessity for me to do it." Her lips 
 worked painfully and silently for a moment. 
 
 An instant later she had crossed the narrow 
 passageway, and throwing open the door, stood 
 there smiling faintly, with the hurt, frightened 
 look still on her pale face. Miss Minot was the 
 first to see her. She moved toward her, swiftly 
 catching both the girl's hands in her own, and 
 dragging her forward to where Cahill and his 
 sister were standing. 
 
 " The Prima Donna Contessa ! " she said, gayly. 
 " May I introduce Miss Cahill, Mr. Cahill 
 but she stopped suddenly, for she saw Cahill 
 take a step forward while a dull red suffused his 
 face. 
 
 " You ! " he said " you ! " His voice sound- 
 ed an octave higher than usual and there was a 
 queer, excited ring to it. 
 
 The girl drew back in a puzzled, half-offended 
 way. But Cahill left his sister's side and crossed 
 quickly to where the girl was standing. 
 
 " Great heavens ! you ! aren't you ? " he 
 began, but the girl interrupted him quickly. 
 
 " Excuse me," she said, in a politely distant 
 tone. 
 
 " Don't pretend " he began again with a cu- 
 rious insistance in his voice ; and then he stopped, 
 putting his hand heavily on the back of a chair 
 
 139
 
 An Episode 
 
 near him and looking at Miss Minot and the girl 
 standing beside her. An agony of apprehension 
 took hold upon him. 
 
 The girl made a little gesture of surprise and 
 turned proudly and indifferently to Miss Minot. 
 
 "I don't think I understand," she said quietly 
 to her. 
 
 The nonplussed, vacant look on her face made 
 Cahill hesitate. He looked fixedly at her. The 
 red had left his face now and it showed a strange 
 pallor. He was just conscious of the cold, as- 
 tonished look on Miss Minot's face, and that his 
 sister was staring blankly at him. He pulled 
 himself together sharply. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," he said, with slow 
 difficulty. " I have made a stupid mistake 
 I thought " he stopped and drew a sharp 
 breath. 
 
 The girl's eyes met his steadily for a moment, 
 and then she smiled again slightly. 
 
 " Oh, certainly," she said, easily. " I have re- 
 minded so many people of so many other people 
 that I am getting quite used to it ! Resem- 
 blances are so often deceiving." 
 
 Cahill looked at her in a curiously relieved 
 way. 
 
 " And here we are, standing talking," she ran 
 on, "while the children are waiting to sing! 
 
 140
 
 An Episode 
 
 They have learned some very pretty Easter 
 hymns. You shall hear them." 
 
 She spoke rapidly and directly to Cahill as 
 though she wished to prevent him from talking, 
 and her voice sounded strained and monotonous. 
 She went over to the piano quickly and seated 
 herself, and presently, when the children had got 
 through their songs, she began to sing alone, and 
 that evening both Miss Minot and Miss Cahill 
 agreed enthusiastically that she had never sung 
 like that before, and that if the director of the 
 Grand Opera had heard her he would have signed 
 a contract with her on the spot. 
 
 Miss Miuot was rather disappointed that 
 Cahill did not seem more impressed. 
 
 " I don't believe you enjoyed it half as much 
 as I thought you would," she said, reproachfully 
 to him. It was late, and they were just leaving 
 the drawing-room, but he had held her back for 
 an instant while the others passed on into the 
 big hall. 
 
 " And isn't she lovely and a great artist ? " she 
 insisted. 
 
 Cahill looked down at the severely beautiful 
 face beside him, and for an instant the feeling 
 of dread and apprehension which had swept 
 over him that afternoon returned with re- 
 doubled force. He felt again the sudden, awful 
 
 141
 
 An Episode 
 
 shock the sight of that girl's face had been to 
 him, the intense relief on discovering his mis- 
 take. He realized acutely and for the first time 
 just how impossible it would ever be to tell her 
 of that episode in his life which the girl's face 
 had recalled, and which he had once felt im- 
 pelled to tell his father, and he determined to 
 make up to her in every way that a man can, 
 for his silence. The possibility which had faced 
 him for a moment, of losing her, had made her 
 inexpressibly dear to him, and in that instant he 
 had realized passionately all that the loss of her 
 would mean to him. He had felt unutterably 
 glad that the danger had been averted and that 
 she need never know. He did not mean to de- 
 ceive her, but as he held her hand and looked 
 at her, he had but one thought, one fierce desire 
 to keep that look of trust and happiness for- 
 ever on her earnest and beautiful face. He 
 leaned forward slightly. 
 
 " How can I tell anything about any other 
 woman when you are there ? " he said, argumenta- 
 tively, smiling at her. " You didn't expect me 
 to take much interest in the timbre of her voice 
 or her trill when you had just told me 
 
 " Oh, yes I know I never told you any- 
 thing," objected the girl, laughing and drawing 
 away her hands. " And you were so dramatic 
 
 143
 
 An Episode 
 
 so curious when you met her, that if I had 
 known you longer, I think absolutely I would 
 have demanded an explanation. Isn't that what 
 they say in books ' demand an explanation ? ' ' 
 
 He shook his head. " I don't know what they 
 say in books. No book ever told me anything 
 about this ! " 
 
 The girl turned her shining, happy eyes upon 
 him. 
 
 "How unutterably silly of me," she said, 
 breathlessly. " For a moment you said she was 
 so like someone, and she had told me her story, 
 I hardly know what I thought imagined." She 
 spoke in little, broken pauses, and as she finished 
 she laid her hand timidly on Cahill's arm. " You 
 said she reminded you of " 
 
 The young man laughed happily. " The mere 
 idea ! " he said, touching her hands softly, and 
 then he added lightly, as they moved toward the 
 door: "What she reminded me of was an epi- 
 sode in my life that happened long ago and 
 which was very uninteresting and unimportant." 
 
 143
 
 HER DECISION
 
 HER DECISION 
 
 MISS EVA HUNGEKFOED was having a 
 mauvais quart-cTheure, or to speak more 
 exactly, une mauvaise demi-heure. She was lying 
 in a long chair near her dressing-table, the pale- 
 green satin cushions tucked closely around her, 
 and her hands held tightly over her eyes to keep 
 out any ray of sunlight that might enter the 
 spectrally darkened room. 
 
 She was thinking hard. Once, when she par- 
 tially emerged from her abstraction, she decided 
 with reproach that she could not remember to 
 have thought so hard for so long a time since 
 leaving college, though in the meanwhile she had 
 written a tragedy and a small volume of sonnets. 
 The occasion called for thought. In half an 
 hour he was to be there, and she had understood 
 from his manner the evening before that she 
 must have an answer ready for him. 
 
 It was all very tiresome. She had warded 
 him off so far, but that could not go on forever. 
 She had felt a little frightened ; he had looked 
 at her in a way she had never imagined he could 
 
 147
 
 Her Decision 
 
 look, and she had been devoutly thankful that 
 just then her " most intimate friend " (even au- 
 thors have " intimate friends ") had come in with 
 her brother to make arrangements about a coach- 
 ing party for the following Saturday. But she 
 could not hope for a much longer reprieve. 
 There was a note in his voice that she could not 
 mistake, as he asked her when he could see her 
 alone. She wondered now why she had told him 
 at half-past four the next day. Why had she 
 not said next week, or after she got back from 
 Mexico, or any other time more remote than the 
 present ? 
 
 "Yes," she acknowledged to herself, "I was 
 afraid : and not of him but of myself. That is 
 the humiliation of it. What was it I read in 
 Ruskin ? That it all ends with Tom, Dick, or 
 Harry ? I don't believe it. At any rate, I shall 
 not give up my career for any man." 
 
 Miss Hungerford always spoke of her " ca- 
 reer " to her friends with a sad sort of expres- 
 sion, as if it cut her off from them in some uii- 
 explainable way, and made her not of this world. 
 Unconsciously she enjoyed the mingled admir- 
 ation and awe of the less ambitiously intellect- 
 ual of her " set " when they heard that she was 
 really going to college. When she came home 
 at vacations they gave her afternoon receptions 
 
 148
 
 Her Decision 
 
 and luncheons, because, though of course they 
 never breathed it to her, they had met with a 
 flat failure when they tried to get their brothers 
 and masculine friends to come for dinner-dances 
 and "small and earlies." 
 
 " Why, she's awfully pretty ! " they would ex- 
 claim when the men pleaded engagements. 
 
 " She's terribly clever, isn't she ? " they would 
 ask, warily. " Why, of course, Eva Hungerford 
 is just too bright for anything, but she never 
 makes one feel it. She doesn't take a mean de- 
 light in showing off one's ignorance. She talks 
 just like we do," they would declare, and the 
 brothers would smile peculiarly and vanish. 
 
 But even her warmest friends admitted that 
 she was carrying things too far when, at the end 
 of her college career she announced her inten- 
 tion of taking a course in old English at Oxford, 
 and then of going to France to study the litera- 
 ture. 
 
 "No, I am not going over in the Winthrop's 
 yacht, nor am I going coaching with them 
 through Ireland," she would explain. "I do 
 not mean to travel much. I intend to study 
 seriously. Of course, I shall take my summers 
 off and enjoy myself, but I have a serious end 
 in view, which I must not lose sight of." 
 
 Miss Hungerford had a rather classic face, and 
 
 149
 
 Her Decision 
 
 looked like a true Spartan when she would say 
 that. Her friends would be either dumb with 
 admiration at such explanations or, sometimes, 
 the more venturesome would try to lure her from 
 her purpose. But she only looked with pity on 
 such attempts. 
 
 She was away two years, and although she had 
 tried to keep up with her friends, on returning 
 she found a great many of them married and 
 more or less occupied with affairs which had no 
 part in her life. This saddened her very much 
 and made her more than ever determined to 
 pursue her " career." She had very few difficul- 
 ties to contend with. There had been one slight 
 interruption. While in Paris the young Comte 
 de la Tour, whom she had first met at the Amer- 
 ican minister's, had taken up a great deal of her 
 time. When he proposed, she had refused him 
 so calmly that she felt justified in admiring her- 
 self. She was rather mortified, however, on 
 thinking it over, to find that for a whole month 
 afterward she had not been able to fix her mind 
 on anything serious, and had accepted a great 
 many invitations out. This taught her a lesson. 
 She had discovered that "to be serious, to do 
 her best work, men must not divert her thoughts." 
 She wrote that down in her commonplace book, 
 so that it would be a perpetual warning to her. 
 
 150
 
 Her Decision 
 
 When she got home, her mother and father 
 were delighted to find her no more changed. 
 They had feared the worst from her letters. 
 Her mother, hearing that old English script was 
 very hard on the eyesight, had, after a good cry, 
 resigned herself to glasses. She was intensely 
 relieved to find that there was no occasion for 
 her resignation, and in her happiness to find that 
 Beowulf had not injured her daughter's vision, 
 herself helped to select a teak desk and book- 
 cases for a " private study " for her. She even 
 sanctioned an edition in pomona green and gold, 
 of the French tragedy and sonnets. These books 
 were not as much reviewed as Miss Hungerford 
 had thought they would be, but her friends ad- 
 mired them intensely and generally came to her 
 with them, that she might write her name on the 
 title-page. 
 
 But scarcely had the room been arranged for 
 hard work (Miss Hungerford had determined to 
 spend the next few months in writing a curtain- 
 raiser for Daly's), when another and more serious 
 interruption occurred. 
 
 She never knew just how it happened. Cer- 
 tainly she had never encouraged him, though 
 she had sometimes suspected her mother of do- 
 ing so, and assuredly Paul Stanhope in no way 
 corresponded to her ideal hero. A few years 
 
 151
 
 Her Decision 
 
 ago she would not have admitted that she had 
 a masculine ideal, but now, as she put another 
 cushion under her shoulder, she was forced to 
 admit to herself that she might have one. Stan- 
 hope was big and strong and handsome. So 
 far he answered to her ideal. But was he intel- 
 lectual? He drove a four-in-hand splendidly, 
 but that was hardly an intellectual employment. 
 Was he literary? She remembered that in 
 speaking once of Matthew Arnold's " Monody on 
 the Death of Arthur Hugh Clough," she had no- 
 ticed a distinctly blank expression on his face, 
 and that he had tried to turn the conversation. 
 But Miss Hungerford had been too quick for him 
 and had herself changed the subject. That was 
 one of her best points, as she acknowledged to 
 herself. She could adapt herself to the people 
 she happened to be talking to. But could she 
 do so for a lifetime ? Miss Hungerford shud- 
 dered and pressed her hands more tightly over 
 her eyes, as if to keep out the vision of a hus- 
 band who did not appreciate allusions to the 
 " Cumnor cowslips." 
 
 Then in some way the phrase " Art is long " 
 got into her head. She knew it, and was not 
 afraid. She had said it to herself a thousand 
 times to keep up her courage. She knew she was 
 only beginning. Still she did think the critics 
 
 152
 
 Her Decision 
 
 might have noticed more positively that she 
 ivas beginning. But nothing should turn her 
 from her purpose. She was sure the Amer- 
 ican drama needed fresh material, fresh work- 
 ers. She had studied French methods, and 
 had determined to devote the rest of her life 
 to adapting them to the American stage. Her 
 youth would be well spent in regenerating our 
 drama and elevating our literature, though she 
 should not become famous until she was an 
 old woman. Even with such high resolves for 
 our country's good, Miss Hungerford could not 
 entirely relinquish all hope of becoming re- 
 nowned. 
 
 " An old woman ! " She jumped up and, 
 drawing the silk curtains slightly, gazed at her- 
 self in the mirror. She leaned forward and 
 breathed lightly on the glass, so that the reflec- 
 tion might be more soft and exquisite. 
 
 " It must be hard to lose one's good looks ! " 
 she said, half aloud. Generally, when Miss 
 Hungerford was tempted to be vain, she laid it 
 all to an exalted, abstract love of the beautiful. 
 Now she put her hands through her hair at each 
 side and drew it down loosely, so that her face 
 was half in shadow and altogether charming. 
 And then she put it back suddenly, for she re- 
 membered that it had fallen down so once when 
 
 153
 
 Her Decision 
 
 she and Stanhope were riding together, and he 
 had looked at her in a very openly admiring 
 way. When he had next called she had worn it 
 so, and his look and exclamation of delight when 
 she had entered the room had warned her what 
 risks she was running. 
 
 She turned impatiently from the mirror and 
 picked up a book that her " most intimate 
 friend " had sent her several days before. She 
 had not read it, because she had found that it 
 commenced with a very modern love scene, and 
 she never read love scenes. Miss Hungerford, 
 who had a taste for epigram, once told her 
 friend that " the science of reading is to know 
 how to skip," and she usually skipped the lid et 
 die dialogues, but if they occurred in a classic, 
 and she felt that she had no right to omit any- 
 thing (she was a very conscientious sort of per- 
 son) she summoned all her fortitude to aid her 
 in getting through. Now she opened the book 
 and read a few pages. After all, it did not seem 
 absolutely repulsive. She decided that she had 
 not given the book a fair trial, and she noticed 
 with some surprise that, curiously enough from 
 the description of him, the hero of the story 
 must resemble Paul Stanhope. But when she 
 found that she was thinking of Stanhope she 
 put the book down. 
 
 154
 
 Her Decision 
 
 " I am certainly getting frivolous," she 
 thought severely. 
 
 " I will go up to my study. I can think 
 better there." As she passed her little French 
 clock, she noticed with a slight shudder that it 
 was twenty minutes after four. She stopped 
 suddenly and rang a bell. " I will make it easy 
 for both of us," she decided ; " I will order tea 
 served as usual, and I will just tell him very 
 calmly how impossible it is for me to take upon 
 myself any other career than that of a student 
 and writer. No one can possibly be sentimen- 
 tal over a tea-urn and champagne biscuits," she 
 thought with relief. When the man appeared 
 she gave him instructions to bring in the tea- 
 things at five precisely. " That will make our 
 interview short and yet give me time to settle 
 it all at once and forever," she thought. " After- 
 ward we can discuss every-day affairs, and I am 
 sure he will recognize how wisely I have acted, 
 and we can be very good friends," and she passed 
 slowly up the stairs to her particular den. 
 
 She felt stronger now, more certain of herself. 
 The first sheets of her " curtain-raiser " were ly- 
 ing on her desk, and the sight of them encour- 
 aged her. For a moment a bewildering vision 
 of a crowded theatre, a storm of applause, and 
 herself, seated behind the curtains of a box, 
 
 155
 
 Her Decision 
 
 seeing, hearing her own piece, took possession 
 of her. She even heard cries for the author, 
 but of course her duty to herself and her fami- 
 ly would prevent her appearing publicly as the 
 writer of the play. She could see no objection, 
 however, to being pointed out as " Miss Hunger- 
 ford, you know, the brilliant young authoress." 
 Yes, life was a failure, art was everything! 
 Nothing should ever come between her and her 
 work. 
 
 Then she sat down at her desk and tried to 
 write. She remembered the keen sense of pleas- 
 ure she always experienced when she had fin- 
 ished a sonnet or scene of a play, but she was 
 thinking now of how she would receive Stanhope. 
 " I will give him my hand in a very quiet, 
 friendly way that will show at once what my 
 decision is. Nothing shall make me alter or 
 give up my career." 
 
 But it was very hard to give up every- 
 thing, and she was very young and her friends 
 thought her beautiful. Could there be no com- 
 promise ? After all life need not be so dreary, 
 and Paul Stanhope was distinctly the nicest and 
 most eligible man she knew. Any number of 
 girls liked him tremendously, and she sighed 
 as she thought that she was keeping some girl 
 from getting a very good husband indeed. 
 
 156
 
 Her Decision 
 
 This idea, though not wholly distasteful to her, 
 brought her sharply back to her resolutions, 
 and she picked up her Calderon. She had 
 been reading it the day before and had left 
 it turned down at the page. Suddenly a great 
 pity for Calderon took possession of her. After 
 all he was so dead now ! Could he know how 
 famous he was? Was he famous while he 
 lived ? Did his fame bring him love and happi- 
 ness? She did not even know. Underneath 
 the Calderon lay a copy of a poet's works a 
 poet now famous and beloved, but who had 
 died miserably poor and unknown. By the side 
 of this volume lay the last number of a popu- 
 lar magazine. She had bought it because it 
 contained a story by a man whom all the world 
 was talking about. She had read in the morn- 
 ing's paper that he had just been divorced from 
 his wife. The sight of the book sickened her. 
 She turned away and opened the case where 
 she kept her Shakespeare, and took out a book 
 at random. It was the sonnets. He, too, the 
 greatest and wisest, had been wretchedly un- 
 happy. 
 
 Suddenly the futility of all effort took hold of 
 her. Suppose she should drudge her life away, 
 never taste of happiness, die, and be only known 
 as "Hungerford the dramatist." She shud- 
 
 157
 
 Her Decision 
 
 dered. In the years to come many people might 
 not even know whether " Hungerford " had 
 been a man or a woman. But she could never 
 hold up her head again if she should relinquish 
 her " career " now. What would her friends 
 think? She felt that she had burned her 
 ships behind her when she had published her 
 tragedy, and that the eyes of her world were 
 upon her. 
 
 She wished she were not so stylish and so 
 distressingly well off in this world's goods. 
 Geniuses, she reflected, were always ugly and 
 poor. Only lately had it come to be considered 
 not infra dig. to grow rich off one's brains. She 
 would have liked to be an old-time ugly, pov- 
 erty-stricken genius. As that could not be, 
 however (her family might have objected to 
 being dispossessed of a most generous income), 
 the best thing she could do was to work on to 
 the end. Better to die in harness, nobly striv- 
 ing after perfection, than to live to an inglori- 
 ously happy old age. She saw herself a melan- 
 choly woman, whose youth and beauty had fled 
 before the exhausting demands of her genius. 
 Fame had come, but too late. Her name was 
 on every lip, but death awaited her. Nothing 
 was left her but to choose her biographer and 
 epitaph. She had long thought that the lines 
 
 158
 
 Her Decision 
 
 (adapted) from the " Adonais " would be very 
 appropriate : 
 
 " Peace, peace ! she is not dead, she doth not sleep ; 
 She hath awakened from the dream of life ! " 
 
 She considered them very sweet, and Shelley 
 had always been one of her gods. There was a 
 sort of poetical justice in the selection. She 
 felt very sad and firm. 
 
 Just then someone tapped at the door, and a 
 card was handed her. She trembled a little as 
 she took it, but there was no change in her 
 voice as she told the man to take Mr. Stanhope 
 to the library and that she would be down im- 
 mediately. 
 
 But she did not go at once. She stopped at 
 her own door and went to the mirror, where she 
 loosened her hair a little at the sides, and after 
 looking critically at the effect, she went slowly 
 down the stairs. At each step she repeated to 
 herself " I must be firm. My career before 
 everything." 
 
 She was saying this over to herself for the 
 twentieth time when she found, rather to her 
 dismay, that she was at the door. Pushing 
 aside the curtains, she extended her hand as 
 she planned to do, but something in Stanhope's 
 
 159
 
 Her Decision 
 
 expression as he came quickly toward her made 
 her falter and let it drop to her side. The next 
 thing she knew he had his arms around her and 
 she was not repulsing him. He had not given 
 her the least chance to explain, she thought in- 
 dignantly. She would never have allowed it 
 if he had given her a moment's time! As for 
 Stanhope, no idea of explanation entered his 
 head. He saw no necessity for one. 
 
 After a while she told him that she did not 
 love him, but he did not seem to believe her, 
 and she could think of no way of proving it 
 after what had happened. Then she assured 
 him that she had always planned to spend her 
 life in writing and study, and that it was im- 
 possible for her to marry him. But he declared 
 that there were no end of writers in the world 
 and absolutely but one woman who could be his 
 wife, so that he did not think her decision just 
 or warranted. And then he went over to her 
 very tenderly and asked her if she really cared 
 more for her musty books and a " brilliant 
 career " (Stanhope was careful to use the word 
 "career") than she did for a man who loved 
 her so devoutly that he would willingly lay 
 down his life for her ? At this Miss Hunger- 
 ford cried a little, and he put her head on his 
 shoulder while she thought about it. 
 
 160
 
 Her Decision 
 
 While tliey were thus engaged the clock 
 struck five and the servant appeared punctually 
 with tea-things. He was much confused when 
 he caught sight of them, and Miss Hungerford 
 privately determined to speak to the man for 
 his officiousness. 
 
 The wedding was very brilliant and Miss 
 Hungerford's "most intimate friend" was maid 
 of honor. She never told the bride, but she 
 told everyone else, "that she had never ex- 
 pected Eva Hungerford to marry and give up 
 her career, but that she was thankful it had 
 happened, and she was sure she would be 
 happy!" 
 
 In the meantime Daly's is without the cur- 
 tain-raiser. 
 
 toi
 
 REVENGE
 
 REVENGE 
 
 MISS ATTERBURY put the paper she was 
 reading carefully and slowly down upon 
 
 the table. It was the Boston , and there 
 
 was a long article upon the first page marked os- 
 tentatiously around with a blue lead-pencil, and 
 headed in glaring letters, "Athletics in Girls' 
 Colleges." 
 
 There was a dangerous gleam in Miss Atter- 
 bury's dark-gray eyes, and she seemed a trifle 
 more than her ordinary five feet eight inches as 
 she drew herself up and turned, with that care- 
 ful repression of irritation which always denotes 
 the extreme limit of self-control, upon an inof- 
 fensive freshman, comfortably installed in the 
 window-seat, playing a mandolin. 
 
 " I was in Antwerp two weeks last summer," 
 she remarked, with careful emphasis, " and I 
 heard the cathedral chimes play ' La Mandolin- 
 ata ' twice every five minutes, I think. I would 
 be obliged if you would play something else, or 
 even stop altogether for a while I have some- 
 thing important to talk about just now." 
 
 165
 
 Revenge 
 
 The freshman stuck her pick guiltily in the 
 strings, and shifted her position upon the cush- 
 ions into one of extreme and flattering attention, 
 while the four girls who had been playing whist 
 over in a corner turned hastily around toward 
 Miss Atterbury. 
 
 " What is it now, Katharine ? " inquired Miss 
 Yale, reproachfully, laying down her cards. 
 "She always takes things so terribly au grand 
 serieiwc" she explained plaintively to the rest. 
 Miss Yale had her rooms with Miss Atterbury, 
 and stood rather in awe of that young woman, 
 and was very proud of her athletic prowess, 
 and could always be relied upon to tell her 
 friends " that Katharine Atterbury was the cap- 
 tain of the senior crew, and could pull an oar as 
 well as a 'Varsity stroke, and that the champion 
 tennis-player of a certain year had said that she 
 was an antagonist to be feared and respected." 
 
 " This is what is the matter," said Miss Atter- 
 bury, in a tragic voice, picking up the paper. 
 " I don't know who it is that writes such absurd, 
 such wilfully misleading articles about us, but I 
 do know that if I could get at him I would " 
 
 What Miss Atterbury would do was appa- 
 rently too awful to speak of just then. 
 
 One of the girls got up and went over to 
 her. 
 
 166
 
 Revenge 
 
 " But what is it ? what have they said about 
 us now ? " she inquired, impatiently. 
 
 " What they are always doing poking fun at 
 us," replied Miss Atterbury, hotly, and with a 
 fine disregard of grammar. " To read this arti- 
 cle one would imagine that we were imbecile 
 babies. One would think that a girl was as 
 weak as a kitten, and didn't know a boat from 
 an elevator, or a five-lap running track from an 
 ice-wagon, or a golf club from a sewing-ma- 
 chine. He whoever the man is who wrote this 
 ridiculous article seems to think that all our 
 training and physical development is a huge 
 joke. He don't even know how stupid he is. 
 That's the worst of it he isn't even aware of 
 his unutterable, his colossal ignorance ! " 
 
 " Wouldn't it be fun to have him drawn and 
 quartered, as an awful example, a sort of warn- 
 ing to the other newspaper men not to write 
 about what they are totally ignorant of, and to 
 leave us alone," suggested the inoffensive little 
 freshman, with a base but entirely successful 
 attempt to get back into Miss Atterbury's good 
 graces. 
 
 The senior gave her a brief but cordial glance, 
 and then ran on : 
 
 " Something must be done about it. I'm tired 
 of reading this sort of trash about women's col- 
 
 167
 
 leges. It is time the public was learning the 
 true state of things that girls can and do swim, 
 and row and play golf and tennis, and run aud 
 walk about, just as their brothers do, and that 
 we have courage and muscle enough to go in for 
 football even, except that we have some little re- 
 gard for our personal appearance ! " 
 
 " And it's so degrading and irritating to go 
 home in the vacations, and have one's brother 
 tease one to death about it all, and try to be 
 funny, and ask one if the color of one's gymna- 
 sium suit is becoming, and if the golf captain 
 knows the caddie from a cleek," interposed 
 Miss Thayer, a pretty blond girl who got up 
 slowly and sauntered over to Miss Atterbury, 
 putting her face over that young lady's shoulder 
 to get a look at the unfortunate paper. As she 
 did so she gave a little cry of surprise. 
 
 " Why, I know the man who wrote that," she 
 gasped. " There ! J. E. N. see those initials 
 at the end ? they mean Jack Newbold. I re- 
 member now he is writing for that paper. He 
 told me this summer at the sea-shore that he 
 was going in for newspaper work. His grand- 
 father owns this paper, you know, and has prom- 
 ised him half a million when he is twenty-five if 
 he will go through the whole thing learn every- 
 thing a newspaper man must know. He didn't 
 
 168
 
 Revenge 
 
 want to do it much, but, of course, he would go 
 in for almost anything sooner than lose all that 
 pile of money." 
 
 Miss Atterbury looked thoughtfully and in- 
 tently at Miss Thayer. 
 
 " You say he is a friend of yours ? " she de- 
 manded, slowly. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; we got to be very good friends this 
 summer. He taught me how to play fifteen-ball 
 pool that's about all he knows," went on the 
 girl, scornfully. "He's an awful duffer about 
 everything else. You ought to see him play 
 tennis ! It's not very edifying, but it's awfully 
 funny." 
 
 Miss Atterbury gave a little gasp of delight. 
 
 " That's too good to be true," she said, enthu- 
 siastically. 
 
 Miss Thayer rather stared. " Why ? " she de- 
 manded, and then, without waiting for a reply, 
 she swept on. " You wouldn't think so if you 
 had to play doubles with him ! And he simply 
 can't walk gets awfully tired, he says. / think 
 it's his clothes. Gets 'em in London, and they 
 are terribly swell and uncomfortable. And he is 
 ahvaj-s afraid his collar is going to melt; it's 
 quite painful to be with him on a warm day. 
 And I couldn't induce him to come out in my 
 cat-boat with me. Said he didn't think a girl 
 
 169
 
 Revenge 
 
 could learn to handle one with any degree of 
 safety. Did you ever hear of anything so un- 
 just? I think he Avas afraid.'" 
 
 Miss Atterbury was leaning on the table now, 
 and her countenance had assumed such a cheer- 
 ful look that the freshman felt quite relieved 
 and ventured to pick up her mandolin again. 
 
 " Go on ! " demanded the senior, delightedly. 
 
 "Well, I don't know anything more," declared 
 Miss Thayer, impatiently. " Isn't that enough 
 for you? He's no good at out-door sports, and 
 what he is doing writing us up or down is more 
 than I can imagine. He oughtn't to be allowed 
 to do so. He don't know anything about it at 
 all, and I should think he would be ashamed of 
 himself. I suppose his editor told him to do it, 
 and he simply ' made up ' and put down every- 
 thing he had ever heard about us, and worked 
 in all the old jokes about girls' colleges." 
 
 Miss Atterbury got up slowly. 
 
 " Well ! " she said, impressively, to Miss 
 Thayer, "I'm sorry if that young man is much 
 of a friend of yours, for we have got to make an 
 example of him. I suppose you know him well 
 enough to invite him out here Monday after- 
 noon? for you've got to do it," she added, with 
 calm decision. 
 
 Miss Thayer said she thought she might vent- 
 
 170
 
 Revenge 
 
 ure on that simple act of courtesy, though she 
 could not quite understand why Miss Atterbury 
 was so anxious to see him since she disapproved 
 of him so entirely ; to which that young woman 
 replied that she wished to see him once, so that 
 she might never see him again, and that the next 
 day she would explain her plans, in which she 
 expected their hearty co-operation. 
 
 Mr. Jack Newbold had just comfortably in- 
 stalled himself in the 1.50 B. and A. train, when 
 it occurred to him that he might possibly have 
 made a mistake as to the time Miss Thayer ex- 
 pected him. He pulled out the note which he 
 had received from her, and read it again. 
 
 " MY DEAR MR. NEWBOLD : I have been so in- 
 terested in what you have written about athletics 
 in girls' colleges ! I saw the article in your 
 paper and knew immediately by the initials that 
 it was your work. Ever since seeing it I have 
 been wishing to redeem my promise to have you 
 come out here and see our college. 
 
 " All the girls are anxious to see you. I hope 
 you won't mind receiving a great deal of atten- 
 tion ! You know how enthusiastic and uncon- 
 ventional college girls are, and you are of the 
 greatest interest to us just now. Miss Atter- 
 
 171
 
 Revenge 
 
 bury, a charming girl, is especially eager to meet 
 you. Don't be too flattered ! But we shall all 
 be delighted to see the man who has so ably 
 written up girls' colleges, and unless I hear from 
 you to the contrary, shall look for you out Mon- 
 day afternoon by the 1.50 train. 
 
 "Of course I shall expect you to take- dinner 
 and go to the concert in the evening. I tell you 
 this now, so you can wear just the right 'dress ' 
 men are so ridiculously particular about their 
 clothes ! 
 
 " Very cordially yours, 
 
 " ELEANOK THAYEE." 
 
 Mr. Jack Newbold was not a particularly vain 
 youth, but he had a slight feeling of satisfaction 
 on perusing that note which made him settle 
 himself even more comfortably in his seat and 
 resign himself cheerfully to the short journey. 
 
 " Had no idea that article would make such a 
 sensation," he was saying to himself, " and I'm 
 glad she expects me by this train. Of course 
 she will bring her trap to the station for me. I 
 believe the college is quite a little distance from 
 the town. Nice little trap she drives well for a 
 girl, I remember." And then he fell to wonder- 
 ing whether he had selected just the right things 
 to wear. " Girls are so doucedly critical," he 
 
 172
 
 Revenge 
 
 soliloquized, and it had been rather hard to de- 
 cide on just what would be in good taste for an 
 afternoon call and would still do without change 
 for the concert in the evening, and he rather 
 complimented himself on his judicious selection, 
 and was assuring himself that the particular 
 shade of his gloves had not been a mistake, when 
 he found that he was at the station. 
 
 Miss Thayer welcomed him effusively. 
 
 " I knew you wouldn't have the vaguest idea 
 of how to get up to the college," she was saying, 
 " and so I came down for you myself. No, I 
 didn't bring my trap. I knew you would enjoy 
 the walk up, and I wanted to show you it myself. 
 I .remember how fond you were of walking, last 
 summer," she added, with a bright smile at him. 
 
 Newbold stared a little. 
 
 "I don't think," he began doubtfully; but 
 Miss Thayer interrupted him quickly 
 
 " You cannot imagine how anxious the girls 
 are to see you. Each one wants to show you 
 what she is particularly interested in. Really 
 you are quite a martyr I mean a hero in our 
 eyes ! We will go up this way," she ran on. 
 " It's a little longer and there is a pretty bad hill, 
 but of course a man doesn't mind a little extra 
 exertion, and it's even more beautiful than the 
 other way." 
 
 173
 
 Revenge 
 
 Newbold said be would be charmed to go any 
 way that Miss Thayer might choose, but that he 
 didn't want to lose any of his visit at the college, 
 and that perhaps it would be wiser to take the 
 short cut. But Miss Thayer said that if they 
 walked a little faster they would get there just as 
 soon, and he would see the finer view, too. So 
 they started off briskly, and Newbold wished 
 that he had worn the other pair of patent leath- 
 ers, and finally, when he felt ready to drop, and 
 thought they must have walked about five miles, 
 and she told him they had only two more to go, 
 he blamed himself most severely for not having 
 firmly refused anything but the short cut and a 
 cab. One of Miss Thayer's friends who met her 
 told her the next day that she was glad to see 
 that she had joined the Pedestrian Club, and 
 that she had often wondered why she had not 
 done so before. 
 
 " I hardly think it is worth while to go into 
 the drawing-room now," remarked Miss Thayer, 
 argumentatively, as they strolled up the broad 
 drive to the college. " I see Miss Atterbury 
 down there on the campus playing tennis, and I 
 promised to bring you to her immediately," she 
 went on. Newbold felt a horrible inclination to 
 say that he didn't care if he never met Miss 
 Atterbury, and that personally he would very 
 
 174
 
 "YOU CANNOT IMAGINE HOW ANXIOUS THE GIRLS ARE TO SEE YOU
 
 Revenge 
 
 much prefer going into the drawing-room and 
 stopping there for the rest of the afternoon, in 
 the most comfortable chair to be found ; but he 
 managed to murmur a weary assent to Miss 
 Thayer's proposition, and together they start- 
 ed down the steep hill at the bottom of which 
 stretched the campus. But he could not seem to 
 keep up with Miss Thayer, and by the time he 
 had reached the tennis grounds and had decided 
 that in all probability his heart would never 
 beat normally again, he was conscious that he 
 was bowing, and that Miss Atterbury, flushed 
 from playing, was standing before him and was 
 laughing and saying "I don't often give ac- 
 quaintances such a warm welcome ! " The next 
 thing he knew was that someone had thrust 
 a racket into his hand, and he heard, as in a 
 dream, Miss Thayer telling her friend that Mr. 
 Newbold was a splendid tennis-player, and that 
 she would have to do her best to beat him, but 
 that she hoped she would for the honor of the 
 college. And then he found himself, somehow, 
 walking over to the court, and, before he could 
 protest, Miss Atterbury was on the other side, 
 and was asking him kindly but briskly if he 
 were ready to play. He thought he was as near 
 ready as he ever would be, so he said " Play ! " 
 and waited resignedly for her serve. 
 
 175
 
 Revenge 
 
 It was just after Miss Atterbury Lad piled up 
 an appalling number of games against him, and 
 he had come to the conclusion that he knew 
 what it would be like to stand fire from a Krupp 
 gun, and had decided that tight patent leathers 
 and a long coat were not just what he would 
 have chosen to play tennis in, that he saw Miss 
 Atterbury, to his intense relief, throw down her 
 racket and run up the hill a little way. She 
 was back in an instant with Miss Thayer and a 
 tall, handsome girl, carrying a lot of golf clubs. 
 When young Newbold saw the golf clubs he felt 
 so tired that he thought he would sit down on 
 the cold ground, although he knew how danger- 
 ous such a proceeding was, especially when he 
 was so painfully aware of how hot his head was 
 and how clammy his linen felt. 
 
 " Mr. Newbold ! " he heard Miss Atterbury 
 say, " I want to present you to Miss Yale. She 
 is the captain of the Golf Club, and I knew you 
 would want to meet her. An} T one who is such 
 an authority on the subject as you proved your- 
 self to be in that article would, of course, want 
 to see the links out here." 
 
 " Ah ! thank you ! " murmured Newbold ; " but 
 I play very little, you know, and I wouldn't in- 
 terrupt your game for the world ! " 
 
 But Miss Yale told him how interested she 
 
 17G
 
 Revenge 
 
 had been in his article, and that she wouldn't 
 feel that she had done her duty by the college 
 unless she showed him the links, and that he 
 really must come with them and tell them 
 whether the meadow-land was too stiff a bit of 
 ground to be gone over. And so Newbold found 
 himself trudging wearily along again between 
 Miss Atterbury and Miss Yale, who seemed as 
 fresh as though they hadn't moved that day. 
 The links seemed distressingly far off, and the 
 holes absurdly distant from each other. His 
 arms ached so from tennis that he could scarcely 
 hold the driver Miss Yale gave him. 
 
 " I wish you would drive off this tee once 
 men do that sort of thing so much better than 
 girls," she was saying, admiringly. " They don't 
 seem to need any practice at all just comes 
 natural to them." Newbold had a very distinct 
 impression that it hadn't come at all natural to 
 him, and he would greatly have preferred not 
 trying before Miss Yale and the knot of young 
 women who had drawn together at some little 
 distance, and were very obviously watching him 
 under the shallowest pretence of hunting for a 
 lost ball. He felt desperately nervous, and his 
 nervousness did not tend to disappear when he 
 made a frantic try at the ball, digging a hole in 
 the ground about a foot in front of the tee, and 
 
 177
 
 Revenge 
 
 almost hitting Miss Atterbury, wlio jumped back 
 with a little cry very unlike her ordinary calm self. 
 
 "I I beg your pardon," he began, desper- 
 ately ; but Miss Atterbury assured him that she 
 was all right, and urged him to try again. He 
 did so, and although he balanced himself cau- 
 tiously on one foot and then on the other, and 
 snapped at the ball several times before trying 
 to hit it, and wobbled his driver after the most 
 approved methods, he topped his ball miserably, 
 and had the mortification of seeing it land in 
 a most difficult hazard. And then he watched 
 Miss Yale drive off with a good backward swing 
 of her club, which hit the ball "sweet and 
 clean," and sent it a good ninety yards. 
 
 " Of course, as you said in your article," re- 
 marked that young woman, picking up her clubs 
 and starting off energetically after the ball, 
 " this is no game for women. It is pre-emi- 
 nently a man's game, and a woman's short col- 
 lar-bone is never such an obvious mistake as in 
 golf. A man can do so much with a driver or a 
 cleek or a lofter, and the walking is so easy for 
 him, and he is so entirely independent of the 
 weather." Newbold murmured inarticulate as- 
 sents as he walked wearily by her. He won- 
 dered if she could keep up that pace all around 
 the course, and he especially wondered how far 
 
 178
 
 Revenge 
 
 around it was. He had a great deal of difficulty 
 in getting bis ball out of the hazard and lofting 
 it up a steep hill, and he savagely wished that 
 he had joined that golf club all his friends were 
 urging him to join, and decided firmly to do so 
 before he slept that night, and to engage the 
 professional's services for himself, and to prac- 
 tise till he could drive a ball off without utterly 
 destroying all the turf in the vicinity. 
 
 They were on the second round, and Newbold 
 was roughly calculating that his erratic plays 
 had made him walk about three miles, and was 
 wondering if he could live to get up the hill in 
 front of him, when he saw Miss Thayer and 
 Miss Yale, who were three holes ahead of him, 
 coming back toward him. 
 
 " You look awfully tired and hot," said Miss 
 Thayer, sympathetically. " What's the mat- 
 ter? Don't you like golf? But what an ab- 
 surd question ! Anyone who could write the ar- 
 ticle on athletics you did must like it. Only, I 
 suppose, girls seem such duffers at it, to you ! " 
 
 Newbold looked at her sharply. He had an 
 uneasy suspicion that she was laughing at him, 
 but he was too tired to think of any w r ay of find- 
 ing out whether she was or not, and so he 
 walked on taciturnly and sufferingly. 
 
 " I have such a nice surprise for you," ran on 
 
 179
 
 Revenge 
 
 Miss Thayer. " But I won't tell you what it is 
 yet." She pulled out her watch. " It is just a 
 quarter to four now, and I think the surprise 
 will not be ready until a quarter after. Can 
 you possibly wait that long ? " 
 
 Newbold said he thought he might if he could 
 sit down ; but Miss Thayer said she disap- 
 proved of getting over-heated and then cooling 
 off rapidly, and that she thought they had bet- 
 ter keep moving until it was time to see the 
 " surprise." So they strolled across the grounds, 
 and the two girls seemed to meet an astonishing 
 number of friends, all going their way. And 
 while Newbold was vaguely wondering what 
 their destination might be, and what new torture 
 was in store for him, he heard Miss Yale say, in 
 what sounded to him like the voice of an aveng- 
 ing angel : 
 
 "I think we had better show Mr. Newbold 
 our new running-track while we are waiting. 
 He is so interested in such things, and he might 
 suggest some improvements." And then New- 
 bold felt himself irresistibly compelled to walk 
 on farther and farther. He wondered sadly why 
 they thought lie knew anything about running- 
 tracks for girls, and decided that his humorous 
 remarks on the subject in his article had been a 
 great mistake. 
 
 180
 
 Revenge 
 
 " Do you think it's a fair track ? " inquired 
 Miss Yale, anxiously, as they came in sight of 
 it. " It is an eight-lap track, you see, and of 
 course a great many girls only go around four 
 times at first girls get tired so absurdly easy ! 
 Now I suppose men think nothing of making 
 two miles at a time it is just play for them. 
 Men are so strong that is their greatest fasci- 
 nation, I think," she ran on enthusiastically. 
 " Haven't you seen foot-ball players after a hard 
 practice game start off and run two miles around 
 the track, and seem to think absolutely nothing 
 of it?" 
 
 " Oh, that's nothing," said Newbold, unwarily 
 and warmly. " Fellows are so different from 
 girls, you know. A girl cries when she's tired, 
 doesn't she ? Well, a man just keeps going, you 
 know, and doesn't let it make any difference to 
 him." 
 
 " I am so glad to hear that, Mr. Newbold," 
 said Miss Yale, with prompt and suspicious sym- 
 pathy, and a sudden firmness of tone, " because 
 I wanted dreadfully to ask you to try the track, 
 but hated to do so, for I knew you were tired 
 at least you look so. But since you just keep 
 going, and it doesn't make any difference to you, 
 why I would be so awfully obliged if you would 
 run around three or four times. I want to see 
 
 181
 
 Revenge 
 
 just how you hold your head and arras. I don't 
 believe we do it in the best way, you know." 
 
 It was a rare and pleasingly curious sight that 
 Miss Yale and Miss Thayer and a great many 
 other young women assembled near the track, 
 apparently by a strange coincidence, looked 
 upon. It is not often that one has the chance 
 of seeing an immaculately dressed youth, with 
 flushed and desperate countenance, tear madly 
 around an eight-lap track in the presence of a 
 number of flatteringly attentive young women. 
 It occurred to Newbold as he dashed around 
 and around that it would be far preferable to 
 keep going until he fainted away or dropped 
 dead, than to stop and encounter the remarks 
 and glances of those young women. They would 
 at least feel sorry for him in that case, he thought, 
 gloomily. But even that modest and simple de- 
 sire was not granted him. As he started on the 
 fifth lap he heard Miss Yale call to him to stop. 
 He had a wild inclination to pay no attention 
 to her, but to keep going on and on, but as he 
 got nearer he saw her step out toward him and 
 put up a warning hand. 
 
 " Thank you so much," she said, warmly. " I 
 think we have all had a lesson in running which 
 we shall not forget soon. I hope you are not 
 tired? " she went on, anxiously. 
 
 182
 
 Revenge 
 
 Newbold said, "Oh, no!" but he felt very 
 tired indeed. His feet ached horribly and his 
 head felt hot and dizzy, and there were queer, 
 sharp pains shooting through his body which 
 made him think forebodingly of pneumonia. 
 
 " The surprise is ready Miss Atterbury is 
 going to have the crew out for your especial 
 benefit ! " went on Miss Yale, triumphantly. 
 " Don't you feel complimented ? And you are 
 to pull Miss Thayer and myself about while they 
 go through a little practice for you. Not much, 
 you know, but just enough to show you the stroke 
 and speed we get. The boat is a beauty but 
 then, of course, you know so much more about 
 it than we do ! I imagine from your article that 
 you must pull an oar capitally. Miss Thayer 
 says a cat-boat is your especial hobby, though." 
 
 " Did Miss Thayer say that ? " began New- 
 bold, hotly. "Beastly things, I think hate 
 'em!" 
 
 Miss Yale smiled incredulously and brightly 
 at him. 
 
 " How modest you are ! " she said, admiringly. 
 <c Ah ! there is Miss Atterbury ! " 
 
 Newbold saw some one waving frantically at 
 them. 
 
 " Come on ! " exclaimed Miss Yale ; " wo 
 want to see them start off that's the best part." 
 
 183
 
 Revenge 
 
 Newbold never remembered afterward how he 
 got across the intervening space, or how he got 
 into a boat with the two young women. The 
 first thing he heard was Miss Atterbury asking 
 him anxiously how he liked the new sliding-seats, 
 and what he thought of the proportions of the 
 boat, and about outriggers in general, and where 
 he thought they could be built best and cheap- 
 est. Newbold felt about as capable of instruct- 
 ing her on such points as of judging the pictures 
 at a Salon exhibit, and he longed, with a long- 
 ing born of utter exhaustion and desperation, to 
 get away. As he wearily pulled the heavy, un- 
 wieldy boat about after the light practice-barge, 
 which kept an appalling distance ahead of him, 
 ho decided within himself that the physical de- 
 velopment of women had been carried to an ab- 
 surd and alarming extent, and that men simply 
 were not in it with them when it came to endur- 
 ance and enthusiasm, and that he had made the 
 mistake of his life when he wrote that article on 
 athletics in girls' colleges, and that his chief 
 might talk until he was blue in the face before 
 he would ever consent again to write about any- 
 thing of which he knew so little. 
 
 They were very disappointed when he told 
 them firmly that he could not stay to dinner or 
 to the concert, but that he had a pressing en- 
 
 184
 
 Revenge 
 
 gagement that would take liim back to the city. 
 And they said that there were still the Swedish 
 gymnastics and basket-ball and pole-vaulting to 
 see, and that they were afraid he had not enjoyed 
 himself or he would have got rid of that engage- 
 ment in some way; but he assured them im- 
 pressively that he had never spent a more in- 
 structive or peculiarly interesting afternoon in 
 his life. 
 
 Miss Thayer took him back to the station in 
 her trap, and remarked 011 how much shorter 
 the way seemed with a good horse ; and when 
 she bade him good-by she told him that she 
 would be looking out for another article in his 
 paper, and that she would be much disappointed 
 if his visit had not inspired him to write some- 
 thing. To which Newbold replied that that was 
 his pressing engagement he was going back to 
 the city to write another article on athletics in 
 girls' colleges, and that he thought it would be 
 different and better than the former one, but that 
 ho would not put his initials to it this time. 
 
 185
 
 THE COLLEGE BEAUTY
 
 THE COLLEGE BEAUTY 
 
 IT was a sort of farewell party, and the young 
 woman who was going away and who was 
 the object of so much solicitude and tender 
 concern was sitting, enshrined as it were, on a 
 divan covered with a Navahoe Indian blanket 
 and surrounded by innumerable cushions, while 
 the rest hung about her or took up precarious 
 attitudes on the table in dangerous proximity 
 to the student lamps, or settled themselves in 
 steamer-chairs, or sat upon the tiger-skin on the 
 floor. That is, the American girls did ; Kan 
 Ato, the pretty Japanese who had come arrayed 
 in a gorgeous new kimono dull blue embroid- 
 ered splendidly in silver sat upright and very 
 stiffly in the window-seat with the dark red of 
 the curtains showing off her jet black hair and 
 her gown wonderfully well ; while the tall Scotch 
 girl, a cousin of the guest of honor, had trust- 
 ed her generous proportions to the only large, 
 comfortable American chair in the room. 
 
 There was a great deal of noise and confusion 
 and questioning, and Miss Lavington, as she 
 
 189
 
 The College Beauty 
 
 leaned back against her cushions, half wished 
 that after all the doctor had not let her come. 
 She had been very ill a short, sharp attack of 
 typhoid and although she had enjoyed tremen- 
 dously the wine jelly, and the violets, and the 
 hushed, anxious tones of her friends as they in- 
 quired after her at the infirmary, and the many 
 remarks about her good qualities and how clever 
 she was in Conic Sections "just as if she were 
 really dead," as she said still she felt rather 
 too weak properly to appreciate her friends' en- 
 thusiastic sympathy at such close range. And 
 then the thought of going away and so far 
 away had made her feel blue and dispirited. 
 
 She was a very pretty English girl, whose 
 father a colonel in an Indian regiment had 
 sent her to America in the care of a sister of 
 his who had moved to " the States ; " and so it 
 had come about that, instead of being a Girtpn 
 or Newnhani girl, she had matriculated at this 
 American college. And now her father had 
 written decisively for her to come out and join 
 him in India, and her college friendships and 
 ties were all to be broken. He had been writ- 
 ing about it for some time, and her illness had 
 finally precipitated the affair. She had only 
 waited until she grew strong enough to start, 
 and the following day had been decided upon. 
 
 190
 
 The College Beauty 
 
 The long sea-voyage would be the very thing 
 for her, the doctor had thought. 
 
 She was trying to explain to the interested 
 young women just what route she would take, 
 and was rapidly filling their souls with envy at 
 the familiar mention of Brindisi and Cairo and 
 Aden, when there was a knock and a quick 
 opening of the door and a girl came into the 
 room. She was a very beautiful young woman, 
 and when she sat down on the divan beside 
 Miss Lavington she seemed suddenly to absorb 
 all the attention and interest, and to become in 
 some magical way the guest of honor and centre 
 of attraction. She met with a very enthusiastic 
 reception, for she had that afternoon gained the 
 tennis championship for her class she was a 
 senior and had not yet changed her white 
 flannel suit with scarlet sumach leaves worked 
 on it, and as she dragged off her soft cap, one 
 could see that her hair still lay in damp curls 
 upon her forehead. 
 
 After she had entered the room one would 
 have realized that they had really been waiting 
 for her. Her mere presence seemed to make a 
 difference. It was this magnetic quality which 
 rendered her so irresistible and all adverse 
 criticism of her so absurd. People might differ 
 as to her beauty there were some indeed, who 
 
 191
 
 The College Beauty 
 
 said that she was too large, or that her eyes 
 were not very expressive, or that her mouth was 
 too small, but they all fell under her influence 
 in some remarkable way, and were very much 
 flattered when she asked them to drive with her, 
 and never failed to point her out to their friends 
 as " the College Beauty, you know ; " and even 
 those who honestly wondered how she ever got 
 through her examinations were forced to admit 
 that she had a great deal of natural talent, which 
 she did not always care to exercise. She was 
 a fine tennis player too, using either hand 
 equally well, and when the Tennis Association 
 got itself into debt and she saved the situa- 
 tion by beguiling, in some inexplicable way, 
 the famous musical organization of a cer- 
 tain university into giving a concert for its 
 benefit, her popularity reached its climax. To 
 the less sought-after girls, her composure and 
 ease of manner while surrounded by aii admir- 
 ing circle of college men was nothing short of 
 marvellous, and the recklessly generous disposal 
 which she made of these youths to her less at- 
 tractive friends seemed to betoken a social prod- 
 igality little short of madness. 
 
 Miss Lavington looked at her imploringly. 
 
 "Make them keep quiet, won't you?" she 
 said. The Beauty looked around her " Are you 
 
 192
 
 The College Beauty 
 
 trying to make her ill again, so she can't go ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 Her words had the desired effect, and the 
 girl who had been twanging abstractedly at a 
 banjeurine put it down. 
 
 " She oughtn't to leave ! " she declared, plain- 
 tively. " It's a shame ! Here we are, just begin- 
 ning the semestre, and she's only half through 
 her college course anyway, and just because her 
 father wants her she has to give up everything 
 and go." 
 
 " Yes, and you know she'll be sure to have 
 jungle-fever or get bitten by a cobra or some- 
 thing, and die," suggested someone cheerful- 
 ly, if a trifle vaguely. 
 
 The girl lying on the tiger-skin looked up. 
 
 " I know why her father wants her," she 
 began calmly. " There is an officer young, 
 handsome, well born, a fine place in Surrey or 
 Devon or Kent, been in the family for genera- 
 tions, old uncle, no children just the thing for 
 her. Her father will take her up to some place 
 in the Himalayas to spend the summer, and he 
 will arrange for the handsome, young, etc., offi- 
 cer to be there, and next fall we will receive the 
 cards. It sounds just like one of Kipling's 
 stories, doesn't it ? " 
 
 They were all laughing by the time she had 
 
 193
 
 The College Beauty 
 
 finished, but The Beauty, looking at the girl be- 
 side her, suddenly stopped smiling. There was 
 a conscious flush on Miss Lavington's face which 
 set her to thinking, and then she glanced over to 
 the big Scotch girl and waited an instant. 
 
 " Tell us all about it," she said finally to Miss 
 Lavington. The girl looked up quickly and 
 then dropped her eyes again. 
 
 " There isn't much to tell," she began. The 
 others were listening now. Even Kan Ato, 
 smiling in her pensive, oriental way, leaned far 
 forward so as not to lose a word. 
 
 " He isn't rich and he hasn't any place in 
 Surrey or anywhere else that I know of, except 
 perhaps in India," she went on. " But he is 
 young and handsome. We used to know each 
 other when we were children he is a sort of 
 cousin but I haven't seen him for years. We 
 used to be very much in love with each other." 
 She smiled. " My father writes me that he says 
 he is still in love with me, and so perhaps we 
 are to be married." 
 
 " I knew it," sighed the girl on the tiger-rug, 
 in a satisfied sort of way. 
 
 The Beauty looked at the English girl curious- 
 ly. " And you haven't seen him for years ? and 
 yet you think of marrying him! How do you 
 know you will love him now ? you are both 
 
 194
 
 The College Beauty 
 
 changed you may be two totally different 
 people from the children who fell in love." 
 She had spoken vehemently and quickly, and 
 Miss Lavington gazed at her with languid sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " You are not in love with him yourself ? " she 
 said, smilingly. 
 
 The girl made a quick, impatient gesture. 
 
 " I am speaking seriously," she said. " You 
 are several years younger than I am, and you 
 don't know what you are doing. Don't let your 
 father don't let anyone persuade you to bind 
 yourself to a man you don't know, whose life 
 has been so vitally different from your own as to 
 render the possibility of sympathy between you 
 very slight." 
 
 Miss Lavington looked at her rather coldly. 
 
 " You are interesting yourself unnecessarily," 
 she said ; " I loved him not so many years ago 
 it cannot be possible that so short a time 
 would change us completely." 
 
 The Beauty leaned her head back with sud- 
 den wearied look on her face. " A few years at 
 our time of life makes all the difference in the 
 world," she said, earnestly. " What pleased and 
 interested and fascinated us at eighteen might 
 very possibly disappoint and disgust us at 
 twenty or twenty - two. I do not mean to 
 
 195
 
 The College Beauty 
 
 preach," she said, smiling deprecatingly and 
 turning to the rest, " but you know as well as I 
 what an influence this college life has on us, and 
 how hard it is to go back to former conditions. 
 If we get stronger here we also get less adapt- 
 able. We are all affected by the earnestness 
 and the culture and advancement of the life wo 
 lead here for four years, whether we will or no, 
 and it is very hard to go back ! " 
 
 They were all looking at her in amazement. 
 The Beauty was not much given to that sort of 
 thing. She stopped abruptly as if herself aware 
 of the sensation she was creating, and laughed 
 rather constrainedly. 
 
 " Don't marry your handsome officer unless 
 you are in love with him ! " she said insistingly 
 still to the girl beside her. " Don't mistake the 
 childish affection you felt for him for something 
 deeper. You have your whole life before you 
 don't spoil it by precipitation or a false gener- 
 osity or a reckless passion ! " There was an 
 anxious, troubled look in her eyes. 
 
 The girl still stretched out on the tiger-skin 
 glanced up again at The Beauty. " I seem to 
 have started a subject in which you are deeply 
 interested," she said gayly to her. "And one 
 in which you have had enormous experience 
 too. Do you know you have an almost un- 
 
 196
 
 The College Beauty 
 
 canny way of fascinating every man who comes 
 near you. It's a sure thing. None of the rest 
 of us have a chance. I believe you could many 
 half a dozen or so at any time that you would 
 take the trouble to say ' yes ' ! " 
 
 The girl addressed looked openly amused 
 " Please take a few off your list," she said. 
 But the other refused to notice her remark and 
 ran on in her light way. 
 
 "And they are all so nice too it is really 
 hard to choose, but I think on the whole I pre- 
 fer a certain young man who shall be nameless. 
 Now, would you call his devotion to yourself 
 'mad precipitation or a false generosity or a 
 reckless passion ? ' ' She moved herself lazily 
 over the yellow skin until her head rested against 
 the girl's knee. 
 
 "And he is such a nice, eligible youth too. 
 I hope you are not going to spoil his life by re- 
 fusing him. Only think how lovely it would be 
 to have one's father-in-law representing the 
 majesty of these United States at an Emperor's 
 court," she went on, turning gayly to the others. 
 " And he is so handsome and clever ! He will 
 be representing Uncle Sam himself some day, 
 and she will be reading up the rules of court 
 etiquette and receiving invitations from the Lord 
 Chamberlain to dine with the Queen, and fuming 
 
 197
 
 The College Beauty 
 
 because the Grand Duchess of something or 
 other has the right to walk in to dinner before 
 her." She was not noticing the girl's significant 
 silence. " Of course he is just the man for you 
 you wouldn't make any but a brilliant match, 
 you know, with your beauty and society manner. 
 But just for the present well, next winter you 
 will debut, and you will be much talked about, 
 and the youth will not be with his father at the 
 European capital, but will be very much en evi- 
 dence here, and then after Easter we shall get 
 your cards ! " 
 
 She twisted her head around, smiling, so as to 
 get a look at the girl's face above her. It wore 
 so grave and hopeless an expression that she 
 gave a little ciy. 
 
 " Forgive me," she said, confusedly, " but you 
 do love him, don't you ? " 
 
 The Beauty turned her eyes away and shook 
 herself slightly, as if awakening from a dream. 
 
 " As confession seems to be the order of the 
 hour," she said in a dull tone, and smiling pe- 
 culiarly, " I don't mind owning that I do love 
 him very much." 
 
 She got up abruptly and moved toward the 
 door amid a chorus of protests, but she would 
 not stay. At the threshold she turned to Miss 
 
 Lavington. 
 
 198
 
 Tlje College Beauty 
 
 " Send your things down by the coach," she 
 said. " If you will let me I will be glad to drive 
 you to the station myself to-morrow." 
 
 When she got to her own study she found a 
 letter thrust under the door with the familiar 
 number of her room scrawled upon it in pencil. 
 She picked it up, and as she looked at the ad- 
 dress an expression of profound dislike and 
 weariness came into her face. She opened the 
 door slowly and put the letter down upon her 
 desk, looking at it thoughtfully for a few mo- 
 ments. The handwriting was irresolute and 
 boyish. She shivered slightly as she took the 
 letter up with sudden resolution and tore it 
 open. As she sat there and read it a look of 
 hatred and disgust and utter hopelessness, 
 strangely at variance with her usual brilliant ex- 
 pression, settled harshly upon her lovely, young 
 face. 
 
 "MY DEAREST WIFE," it ran, "Forgive me! 
 but this is about the only luxury I indulge in ! 
 calling you in my letters what I dare not 
 call you as yet before the world. 
 
 " I am in a retrospective mood to-night, and 
 feel like writing all sorts of things which I am 
 afraid you won't much like. Do you know I 
 think that college is doing you harm ! Don't 
 
 109
 
 The College Beauty 
 
 get angry at this, but sometimes I'm afraid you 
 have repented of our boy and girl runaway 
 match; but God knows I haven't, and I'm glad 
 I didn't go to college but came out West and went 
 to work for us both. I haven't succeeded very 
 brilliantly and may be the life has roughened me 
 a bit, but I guess you can have the best there 
 is out here, and I am still as devoted to you as 
 in those old days of the summer before you 
 went to that confounded (excuse me!) college, 
 when you were just eighteen and I barely twenty- 
 one. How interminably long four years seemed 
 to wait then ! But it was a case of getting mar- 
 ried secretly and of waiting, or of not getting 
 you at all. Sometimes I can hardly stand it, 
 and I'd come back now and take you away, if 
 I wasn't so afraid of that blessed old father of 
 yours but I'm just as big a coward as I was 
 three years ago, when I couldn't screw up cour- 
 age enough to go to him and tell him that he'd 
 have to relinquish his pet scheme of sending his 
 daughter to college, for she belonged to me. 
 "Whew! what a scene we'd have had! It was 
 best to wait, I suppose. 
 
 " After all, only a year and then I can claim 
 you ! Have you changed any ? I'm afraid you're 
 way ahead of me now. I always had an uncom- 
 fortable suspicion that you were very much my 
 200
 
 The College Beauty 
 
 superior, and I have half fancied that perhaps 
 you only loved me because I was so madly so 
 passionately in love with you. Did I over-per- 
 suade you ? have you ceased to love me ? Some- 
 times I get half sick with fear. You are all I 
 have ! But after all I feel safe enough I know 
 you too well not to know that you will never 
 break your promise even one you hate. But 
 you know I'll never hold you to that marriage 
 though it was all valid enough if you don't 
 want to be held. I can simply blow my good- 
 for-nothing brains out. 
 
 " I won't write any more to-night. There is 
 so much swearing and noise down in the street 
 that I can hardly think ; besides I don't feel just 
 like it, and lately your letters have only irritated 
 me. But I won't complain, for I know how gen- 
 erously you have acted and what brilliant pros- 
 pects you have given up for my precious self ! 
 "Devotedly yours and only yours, 
 
 " G. G. B." 
 
 201
 
 A TELEPHONED TELEGRAM
 
 A TELEPHONED TELEGRAM 
 
 WHEN Miss Eva Hungerford married Stan- 
 hope there was one young lady intense- 
 ly glad of it, although it was whispered that 
 there were also two or three who were quite the 
 contrary. But Mrs. Eenf ord Phillips once Miss 
 Violet Featherstone had particular reasons for 
 rejoicing, and she wrote a long letter to Miss 
 Hungerford when she heard of the engagement, 
 and said that she hoped "by-gones would be 
 by-gones now, and that she was sure her friend 
 would be a broader-minded and more perfect 
 woman, if that were possible, now that she was 
 going to have the additional experience of get- 
 ting married." 
 
 Miss Hungerford wrote her a most cordial re- 
 ply, and the two girls, for several years slightly 
 estranged, became again the friends they had 
 been during the first three years of their college 
 life. 
 
 The blow had fallen very suddenly, and Miss 
 Hungerford had found it hard to forgive what 
 she called, in her heart, her friend's tacit deceit 
 
 205
 
 A Telephoned Telegram 
 
 and culpable silence. But, as she wrote in 
 her reply to Mrs. Phillips's letter, her opinions 
 had undergone a decided change, and she felt 
 that perhaps she had been a little hard on her 
 friend and had not understood her feelings 
 and the pressure brought to bear upon her, 
 and she acknowledged that circumstances might 
 materially alter one's views and actions. And 
 Miss Featherstone, who had been the most talked 
 about girl in college during the last seniestre of 
 her junior year, and who had suffered acutely 
 under Miss Hungerford's indifferently concealed 
 displeasure and surprise at her conduct, replied 
 that now she could be truly happy in her hus- 
 band and her home, and insisted that Mr. and 
 Mrs. Stanhope should visit her in the Berkshire 
 Hills that summer. 
 
 This they did, and though, of course, each 
 thought her husband much the handsomer and 
 more distinguished-looking, still they were very 
 affectionate toward each other, and planned to 
 be at Cowes together the next summer for the 
 yachting. 
 
 As has been said, their estrangement hap- 
 pened very suddenly and came about by an un- 
 fortunate occurrence one morning in the office 
 of the college. 
 
 Anyone who has never had the privilege of 
 
 206
 
 A Telephoned Telegram 
 
 being in that office on a Monday morning, just 
 after chapel, can have but a faint idea of pande- 
 monium. The whole seven hundred students 
 seem to be revolving about. There are the 
 young women standing around, waiting to take 
 the next train into Boston, not having been able 
 to go on the early express because they had fool- 
 ishly forgotten to get a leave of absence on the 
 Saturday previous, and who are furtively trying 
 not to see their friends who are not going on at 
 all, so as to keep from having to attend to their 
 commissions ; and there is the girl who is tele- 
 phoning for roses to wear at the concert that 
 night, and those who are booking boats and ten- 
 nis courts, and others reading bulletins ; and 
 when there is an extra commotion and the crowd 
 is forced back a little to let the cords be pulled 
 up around the desk so as to clear a space ; and 
 when the carrier comes in and tumbles the big 
 mail-bags into the middle of it with one hand 
 and unlocks them at apparently the same instant 
 with the other ; and when about ten young wom- 
 en fall upon the bags and rend their contents 
 from them, and begin to assort and number and 
 tie up the letters, all the time besieged by their 
 excluded friends to give them their mail on the 
 spot as they are going away, the noise and ex- 
 citement reach a climax. 
 
 207
 
 But it is all very pleasant and enlivening ex- 
 cept the telephone bell, which rings constantly 
 and is wearing on the nerves. It rings not only 
 for all telephone messages but for all telegrams, 
 for the college, being a mile or so from the tele- 
 graph station, everything is simply telephoned 
 up to save delays, and that a long and continuous 
 procession of small messenger boys may not be 
 forever circulating between the college and the 
 station. 
 
 It was this unfortunate custom of telephoning 
 telegrams, unknown of course to the majority of 
 outsiders, that precipitated the affair. On that 
 particular Monday morning, when the confusion 
 in the office was at its worst, the telephone bell 
 suddenly rang unusually loudly and long, and 
 the nervous Freshman on duty jumped toward it 
 with a warning motion to the rest to keep quiet. 
 
 " Hush ! it's a telegram," she said in a moment, 
 and instantly there was silence, for a telegram is 
 always dreaded where there are so many to 
 whom it could bear ill news. She reached for a 
 pad of paper and a pencil to take it down. 
 From the other end came " Important. Kepeat 
 slowly as I deliver it." The nervous Freshman 
 said " All right," and braced herself against the 
 support to write. 
 
 " To Miss Yiolet Featherstone." The docile 
 
 308
 
 A Telephoned Telegram 
 
 Freshman repeated it and then said "Wait!" 
 and looked around. 
 
 "If Miss Featherstone is here,". she remarked, 
 " she can come to the telephone ; " but someone 
 volunteered the information that Miss Feather- 
 stone had left by the early train for Boston, and 
 the telephoning proceeded. 
 
 " My darling " the Freshman gasped a little 
 and then repeated slowly " My darling." There 
 was some suppressed commotion for an instant 
 among the crowd around the doors, and the two 
 at the telephone went at it again. 
 
 " I have not heard from you for three days." 
 " I have not heard from you for three days," 
 mumbled the Freshman. 
 
 " What is the matter ? Eenford Phillips." 
 " What is the matter ? B,enf ord Phillips." 
 
 When Miss Featherstone reached the college 
 that afternoon she thought she detected a sup- 
 pressed excitement about the whole place, 
 though she felt rather too tired to think much 
 about it, but when she got to her room she found 
 a telephone message for her which made her 
 sink weakly into a chair. 
 
 An appalling vision of the consequences rose 
 before her. She tried to think connectedly, but 
 the effort was too much. Her only thought was 
 
 209
 
 A Telephoned Telegram 
 
 of the effect it would have on her friend Eva 
 Hungerford. She would go to her immediately 
 and find out how much she knew. 
 
 As she went along the corridors more than 
 one acquaintance smiled knowingly at her, but 
 she only hurried on. When she reached Miss 
 Hungerford's rooms, she found that young lady 
 looking dejectedly out of the windows. Her 
 melancholy turned to stony haughtiness, how- 
 ever, when Miss Featherstone approached her 
 tremblingly. 
 
 " Yes, the whole college knew of it," she as- 
 sured her. " The message had been telephoned 
 up when the office was crowded, and by this 
 time everyone was aAvare of what her best friend 
 had not known." 
 
 Miss Featherstone rebelled a little under Miss 
 Hungerford's chilling glance and attempted to 
 explain, but her friend was very sad and firm, 
 and said she did not see how any explanation 
 could do away with the fact that Yiolet Feath- 
 erstone had broken the solemn vow they had 
 made together never to marry, but to devote 
 themselves to serious study as a life-work. But 
 when Miss Featherstone quite broke down un- 
 der her friend's disapprobation, Miss Hunger- 
 ford relented a little and asked her if she were 
 really so fond of Benford Phillips, and if she 
 210
 
 A Telephoned Telegram 
 
 thought life with him in Morristown would com- 
 pensate her for the loss of Oxford and the Bod- 
 leian. Miss Featherstone cried a little at that, 
 and said she thought it would, and that she had 
 started a hundred times to tell her dearest friend 
 about her engagement, but she knew how she 
 thought about such things, and how she would 
 lose her respect for allowing anything to inter- 
 fere with their plans for mental advancement. 
 And Miss Hungerford only sighed and wrote 
 that night to her mother that another of her il- 
 lusions had been dispelled, but that she was 
 firmer than ever in her determination to make 
 something of herself. 
 
 Miss Featherstone did not return for her de- 
 gree, but had a pretty church wedding that sum- 
 mer at Stockbridge, and Miss Hungerford sent 
 her a very handsome wedding gift, but refused to 
 be present at the marriage. They did not write 
 to each other much the next year, and Miss Hun- 
 gerford worked so hard that the Faculty had to 
 interfere, and when she left college with a B. S. 
 degree, smiling sadly and saying that she would 
 be a bachelor as well as an old maid, everybody 
 remarked what a superior girl she was to her 
 friend Violet Featherstone. 
 
 211
 
 "MISS ROSE"
 
 "MISS ROSE" 
 
 SHE was always called that, and there were 
 very few of the seven hundred students 
 who really knew or cared whether it was her 
 little name or her family name. The uncer- 
 tainty about it seemed particularly appropriate 
 someway her whole personality was vague. 
 
 That is at the beginning ; later 
 
 For the first month she passed comparatively 
 unnoticed. In the wild confusion of setting up 
 household gods and arranging schedules, hope- 
 less as Chinese puzzles, of finding out where the 
 Greek instructors can see you professionally, and 
 when the art school is open, and why you can- 
 not take books from the library, and when the 
 elevator runs, anyone less remarkable-looking 
 than an American Indian or the Queen of the 
 Sandwich Islands is apt to be overlooked. But 
 after the preliminary scuffle is over and there is 
 a lull in the storm, and one begins to remember 
 vaguely having seen that dress or face before 
 somewhere, and when one no longer turns up at 
 the history or art rooms instead of the chemical 
 
 215
 
 "Miss Rose" 
 
 laboratories, and when one ceases to take the as- 
 sistant professor of physics for the girl who sat 
 next to you in the trigonometry recitation then 
 the individual comes in for her share of atten- 
 tion. 
 
 " Miss Rose " possibly got more than her 
 share. Curious young women soon began to 
 nudge each other, and ask in whispers who she 
 was. And just at first there were covert smiles 
 and a little cruelly good-natured joking, and the 
 inevitable feeble punning on her name and with- 
 ered looks. There were some -who said she could 
 not be more than forty-five, but they were in the 
 minority, and even the more generously inclined 
 could not deny that her face was very old and 
 wrinkled and tired -looking, and that her hair 
 was fast getting gray around the temples, though 
 her eyes still retained a brilliancy quite feverish, 
 and an eager, unsatisfied sort of look that struck 
 some of the more imaginative as pathetic. As 
 a freshman she seemed indeed to be hopelessly 
 out of place though not so much so, perhaps, 
 as the little Chicago beauty who was so much 
 more interested in her gowns and looks than 
 in her work, that at the beginning of her second 
 semestre she went home with an attack of pneu- 
 monia, brought on by having been left out in the 
 cold after an examination in conic sections. 
 
 216
 
 "Miss Rose" 
 
 That type, however, is not uncommon, while 
 " Miss Rose " was especially puzzling. They 
 could not quite understand her, and there were 
 even some among the august body of ridiculous 
 freshmen who somewhat resented her entrance 
 into their ranks, and wondered rather discontent- 
 edly why she did not join the great body of 
 " T-specs " to which she so evidently belonged. 
 
 But it was characteristic of this woman that 
 she preferred to begin at the beginning and 
 work her way up to take the regular systematic 
 grind and discipline of the freshman's lot to 
 matriculating in an elective course where she 
 could get through easily enough if she were so 
 inclined. She saw no incongruity in her po- 
 sition ; she rarely seemed to notice the difference 
 between herself and the younger, quicker intel- 
 lects around her, and she worked with an enthu- 
 siasm and persistence that put most of the 
 young women to shame. That she had taught 
 was evident in what little out-of-the-way Wes- 
 tern town, or sleepy Southern one, no one knew ; 
 but sometimes there were amusing little scenes 
 between herself and the professor, when the old 
 habit of school-room tyranny which she had 
 once exercised herself was strong upon her, and 
 she lapsed unconsciously into the didactic man- 
 ner of her former life. And sometimes she be- 
 
 217
 
 "Miss Rose" 
 
 came discouraged when the long lack of strict 
 mental discipline irked her, and when she saw in 
 a glimpse how far she was behind the girl of 
 nineteen beside her, and how hopeless was the 
 struggle she was making against youth and 
 training. There were moments when she real- 
 ized that she had begun too late, that the time 
 she had lost was lost irretrievably. But the re- 
 action would quickly come and she would work 
 away with renewed energy, and they were very 
 patient with her and would lend her a helping 
 hand where a younger student would have been 
 let most severely alone, to sink or swim after 
 the approved method. 
 
 But if her mathematics and chemistry and 
 Tacitus left much to be desired, there was one 
 field in which she shone resplendently. "No 
 one could touch her" as one young woman 
 slangly but enthusiastically remarked " when it 
 came to the Bible." There she was in her glory, 
 and her vast knowledge of the wars of Jeroboam 
 and Rehoboam, and her appalling familiarity 
 with Shamgar and the prophets, and the mean- 
 ing of the Urim and Thummim, and other such 
 things, was the envy and despair of the younger 
 and less biblically inclined. And if at times she 
 was a trifle too prolix and had to be stopped 
 in her flow of information, there was very 
 
 218
 
 "Miss Rose" 
 
 genuine regret on the part of the less well in- 
 formed. 
 
 And in time she came to make a great many 
 friends. Her peculiar ways no longer struck 
 them as comical, and if anyone had dared make 
 reference to the plainness of her gowns or the 
 strict economies she practised to get through, 
 that person would have very soon discovered her 
 mistake ; and they pretended not to know that 
 she would not join any of the societies because 
 of the dues, and that she did her own laundry on 
 Monday afternoons. Indeed, she was so kindly 
 disposed and so cheerful and helpful, and seemed 
 so interested in all the class projects and even 
 in the sports, at which of course she could only 
 look on, that little by little she came to be a 
 great favorite, and the one to whom the rest 
 naturally turned when there was any hitch or 
 especial need for advice. And then, of course, 
 as she was not to be thought of in the light of a 
 possible candidate for president or vice-presi- 
 dent or captain of the crew, or any of the other 
 desirable high-places, those misguided young 
 women who did have such literary, social, or 
 athletic aspirations would go to her and confide 
 their hopes and fears, and in some strange way 
 they would all feel very much more comfortable 
 and happy in their minds after such confessions. 
 
 219
 
 "Miss Rose' 1 
 
 And so she got to be a sort of class institution 
 in a very short while, and the captains of dif- 
 ferent stylish but rather un-nautical freshman 
 crews vied with each other in invitations to 
 " come over the lake " with them, and the presi- 
 dent of the Tennis Association sent her a 
 special and entirely superfluous invitation to the 
 spring tournament on the club's finest paper, 
 and the senior editor of the college magazine, 
 whose sister was a freshman, was made to ask her 
 fora short article on the " Study of the Bible," 
 and at the concerts and receptions many young 
 women, kindly and socially disposed, would in- 
 troduce her to their brothers and other male re- 
 lations who had been enticed out, before taking 
 them on to see the lake, or a certain famous 
 walk, or the Art Building, or the Gymnasium. 
 
 It was about the middle of the winter semes- 
 tre that it happened, and of course it was Clara 
 Arnold who knew about it first. Miss Arnold 
 had liked " Miss Rose " from the beginning. 
 She had taken a fancy to the hard-working 
 woman, who had returned it with wondering ad- 
 miration for the handsome, clever girl. And so 
 Miss Arnold got into the habit of stopping 
 for her occasionally to walk or drive, and it was 
 when she went for her to go on one of those ex- 
 220
 
 "Miss Rose" 
 
 peditions, that she discovered the trouble. She 
 found " Miss Rose " sitting before her desk with 
 a crumpled newspaper in her hand, and a dazed, 
 hopeless expression on her face which cut the 
 girl to the heart. Her things were scattered 
 about the room, on the bed and chairs, an open 
 trunk half-filled stood in one corner. Miss 
 Arnold stared around in amazement. 
 
 " The bank's broken," said " Miss Rose " sim- 
 ply, in answer to her questioning glance, and 
 pointed dully to the paper. "I might have 
 known that little bank couldn't hold out when 
 so many big ones have gone under this year," 
 she went on, half speaking to herself. 
 
 Miss Arnold picked up the paper and read an 
 article on the first page marked around with a 
 blue pencil. She did not understand the tech- 
 nicalities, but she made out that the " City Bank " 
 of a small town in Idaho had been forced to 
 close, and that depositors would not get more 
 than five or ten cents on the dollar. 
 
 " Every cent I've saved up was in that bank ! " 
 The woman turned herself slowly in her chair 
 and laid her face down on the desk with her 
 arms above her head. She spoke in muffled 
 tones into which a strange bitterness had crept. 
 
 " I've worked all my life ever since I was 
 twenty to get enough money to come to college 
 221
 
 "Miss Rose" 
 
 on. I had barely enough to stay here at all 
 and now " she stopped suddenly, breathing 
 hard. "I haven't been here a year yet," she 
 broke out at last. 
 
 "Well, I'll have to go back to teaching. 
 Great heavens ! I thought I'd finished with 
 that ! " 
 
 Miss Arnold seated herself on a clear corner 
 of the bed. 
 
 " Look here, ' Miss Hose,' " she said, excitedly, 
 "of course you aren't going to stop college 
 now, when you're doing so well and and we all 
 like you so much and and you're just beginning 
 your course." She stumbled on " Has every- 
 thing gone ? can't you do something ? " 
 
 " Miss Hose " looked up slowly " Every- 
 thing," she said grimly, and then, with the pathet- 
 ically resigned air of one who has been used to 
 misfortunes and has learned to accept them 
 quietly, " I've worked all my life, I suppose I 
 can go at it again." She looked around her. 
 " I'll be gone this time to-morrow, and then I 
 won't feel so badly ; " she put her head down on 
 the desk again. 
 
 Miss Arnold looked thoughtfully at her for a 
 few minutes and then, with a sudden movement, 
 she got up and went out, closing the door softly 
 behind her.
 
 Miss Rose" 
 
 It was about nine o'clock that evening and 
 " Miss Eose " had almost finished packing. She 
 was feeling particularly disheartened and was 
 taking the books from the cases one by one in a 
 very mournful way, when she heard footsteps 
 and a subdued but very excited whispering out- 
 side her door. She got up languidly and 
 threaded her way among the books and cushions 
 and odd articles of clothing heaped up on the 
 floor. As she opened the door, the light from 
 her student-lamp fell upon the very red face of 
 a freshman propelled apparently into the room 
 by the two or three others behind her, who 
 seemed to have a wild desire to efface themselves 
 entirely. 
 
 " Miss Eose," gasped the blushing freshman 
 in the van, "here here is a letter for you. 
 We've just had a class meeting " she looked 
 nervously at the others who were edging away. 
 
 There was an indistinct chorus from them 
 which sounded like "hope you'll accept," and 
 then they retreated with as much dignity as pos- 
 sible, but in great haste. 
 
 " Miss Eose " opened the letter and gave a lit- 
 tle cry as a check for a good round sum drawn 
 on the class treasurer fell to the floor. And then 
 she sat weakly down on the bed and cried a lit- 
 tle from pure happiness as she read it all over. 
 
 223
 
 "Miss Rose" 
 
 " The class of '9 have just heard of ' Miss 
 Rose's ' financial embarrassment occasioned by 
 
 the failure of the City Bank, and being most 
 
 unwilling to lose so valuable and appreciated a 
 member, beg that she will accept the enclosed 
 and continue with the class until the end of the 
 year." 
 
 224
 
 A SHORT STUDY IN EVOLUTION
 
 A SHORT STUDY IN EVOLUTION 
 
 
 
 A COLLEGE for women is generally looked 
 upon by the outside world and the visiting 
 preachers as a haven of rest, a sort of oasis in 
 the desert of life, a Paradise with a large and 
 flourishing Tree of Knowledge of which one is 
 commanded to eat, and where one is happily 
 ignorant of the " struggle for life," and the woes 
 and evils of the world. 
 
 Such views have been so often expressed and 
 inculcated that it appears a little ungracious and 
 stubborn to insist that the bishop who comes 
 out and delivers a sermon once a year, or the 
 brilliant young graduate from a neighboring 
 seminary who is sent because the dean has 
 been suddenly called away and who is quaking 
 with fear at the ordeal cannot possibly know 
 all about a girl's college life and its temptations 
 and its trials and its vanities. 
 
 When the heterogeneous mass of humanity 
 which makes up a big college is got together and 
 in close relation for ten months at a time, there 
 is bound to be action and reaction. When New 
 
 237
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 York society girls and missionaries' daughters 
 from India, and Boston Latin-school girls and 
 native Japanese, and Westerners and Georgians 
 and Australians and " Teacher Specials," and 
 very young preparatory-school girls, are all mixed 
 up together, it inevitably happens that there is 
 some friction and many unexpected and inter- 
 esting results. One of these is that it not in- 
 frequently happens that a young woman leaves 
 college an entirely different person from the girl 
 who took her entrance examinations, and some- 
 times the change is for the better and sometimes 
 for the worse, or it may be unimportant and re- 
 late only to the way she has got to wearing her 
 hair, or the amount of extra money she considers 
 necessary. At any rate, a noticeable change of 
 some sort always operates in a girl during her 
 four or five years' stay at a college, and when 
 she goes home " for good " her friends will criti- 
 cise her from their different points of view, and 
 will be sure to tell her whether she is improved 
 or not. 
 
 "When Miss Eva Hungerford returned for her 
 senior year at college, having been greatly dis- 
 appointed in one of her friends, she determined 
 to make no new ones, but to work very hard and 
 keep a great deal to herself. She succeeded so 
 well in her efforts that, after she had been there 
 
 228
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 three months, she became aware that she knew 
 absolutely none of the new students. They were 
 an indistinguishable mass to her, with the ex- 
 ception of two or three noticeably pretty, and 
 about the same number of extremely homely 
 young women whose physique rendered them 
 conspicuous. To her uninterested gaze the large 
 majority seemed to be distressingly like all pre- 
 vious freshman classes, and endowed with the 
 same modest amount of good looks and intel- 
 lectual foreheads. 
 
 But in college life it is a strange fact that 
 while upper classes find it rather difficult to be- 
 come acquainted among the lower ones, owing, 
 of course, to the unwritten code which prevents 
 a senior from appearing interested in any but 
 those of her own class, yet the incoming students 
 are allowed and take every opportunity of in- 
 gratiating themselves with upper-class girls, 
 without injury to their dignity. But Miss Hun- 
 gerford, who had surrounded herself with quite 
 an impenetrable air of seniority, and who was so 
 extremely handsome and distant-looking, by her 
 appearance and bearing had exercised a rather 
 chilling influence on young aspirants for an in- 
 troduction, and was secretly very much looked 
 up to and feared. 
 
 She was not entirely unconscious of the effect 
 
 229
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 she produced, and was therefore decidedly sur- 
 prised one day to receive a call from a freshman 
 who lived only a few doors from her, but of 
 whose existence she had not been aware. She 
 thought the child she was very young, not more 
 than sixteen uninteresting, and that it was an 
 evidence of extremely bad taste, and unconveu- 
 tionality on her part to call in that unprovoked 
 way. But she was very polite to her uninvited 
 guest, and asked her the usual questions, and the 
 girl, who was very naive, replied with a loquacity 
 quite trying to her hostess. 
 
 Miss Hungerford was rather indignant after 
 her visitor had gone, and wondered why she had 
 had to be interrupted in an analytical study of 
 " Prometheus Unbound," to listen to a child tell 
 her that she had never been out of Iowa before, 
 and that her mother had not wanted her to come 
 to college, but that her father had always said 
 she should have " a higher education," and so, 
 after presumably much domestic wrangling, she 
 was there. Miss Hungerford could not remem- 
 ber much else of what the young girl had told 
 her, having listened rather absently to her re- 
 plies, but she had a distinct impression that her 
 visitor was not at all good-looking, with only a 
 fine pair of eyes to redeem her pale face, and 
 that her clothes were atrocious, and that she was 
 
 330
 
 A RATHER CHILLING INFLUENCE
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 gauche and decidedly of a social class that Miss 
 Hungerford was not in the habit of mingling 
 with away from college. For even in a very 
 democratic college there are social grades, and 
 although it is the thing to meet in a most 
 friendly way at all class functions, still, a narrow 
 line of distinction may be perceived on social 
 occasions. 
 
 Altogether Miss Hungerford felt rather ag- 
 grieved and hoped she would not be bothered 
 again. But she was. Miss Betty Harmon, of 
 Sioux City, la., had had a fearful struggle with 
 her timidity and retiring nature, when she called 
 on Miss Hungerford, and having gained a vic- 
 tory over herself, she had no intention of resign- 
 ing the benefits. So she would smile first when 
 they met in the corridors, and was not above 
 showing how much she appreciated a few words 
 from Miss Hungerford in praise of her tennis 
 serve, and that young woman was even uncom- 
 fortably conscious that her youthful admirer had 
 more than once followed her to the library, 
 where, under pretence of reading, she had stolen 
 furtive glances at her. Later there were notes, 
 and roses, and requests to go boating. 
 
 Miss Hungerford strongly objected to such 
 proceedings, not only because she did not wish 
 to be rendered ridiculous by an insignificant 
 
 231
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 freshman from Iowa, but also because she was a 
 very sensible girl, and entirely disapproved of 
 the " eclectic affinity " business, and she had no 
 intention of allowing the young girl's admiration 
 for herself to develop into that abnormal sort of 
 attraction that exists between girls in so many 
 schools and colleges. 
 
 The temptation to exalt some upper-class girl 
 into an ideal and lavish upon her an affection 
 which in society would naturally fall to the lot 
 of some very unideal boy, or man, is one of the 
 greatest ordeals a college girl goes through, and 
 one who successfully resists all inducements to 
 become a "divinity student," or who gets out 
 of the entanglement without damage to herself, 
 is as successfully " proven " as was Lieutenant 
 Ouless after his little affair with Private Ortheris. 
 Even the least romantic girl is apt to find unex- 
 pected possibilities in her nature in the way of 
 romantic devotion, so that it was not surprising 
 that Miss Betty Harmon, unimaginative and 
 unsentimental as she was, should have admired 
 so extravagantly as handsome and interesting 
 a girl as Eva Hungerf ord. The crude Western 
 girl found something extremely attractive in the 
 senior grace, a social ease and distinction, and 
 that indefinable magnetism which a wealthy, 
 consciously beautiful girl possesses. 
 
 233
 
 SHE HAD STOLEN FURTIVE GLANCES AT HER
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 But Miss Hungerford, who had no notion of 
 getting herself talked about, and whose Eastern 
 sensitiveness and prejudices were continually 
 being shocked by the younger girl's crudities, so 
 persistently frowned down upon and ignored her 
 under-class admirer, that even Miss Harmon's 
 devotion paled, and the roses and notes and 
 boating excursions ceased. She began to per- 
 ceive that the faint line of social distinction, so 
 rarely perceptible in the college, had been drawn 
 in her case. 
 
 During the last semestre of the year Miss 
 Hungerford, who was very tired and busy, seemed 
 almost oblivious of the young girl's existence, 
 and even forgot to smile at her when they met 
 on the campus. And when on her Baccalaureate 
 Sunday a box of white roses the last mute ex- 
 pression of Miss Harmon's expiring affection 
 was handed her without any card, she wondered 
 who had sent them and concluded they must 
 have been ordered by a man she knew. 
 
 Three years after leaving college Miss Hun- 
 gerford married, much to her friends' surprise, 
 and a year after that she and her husband went 
 abroad. Of course they went to Paris, where 
 Mrs. Stanhope, who had spent much time there 
 after leaving college, had a great many friends, 
 
 233
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 and innumerable dinners were given to them and 
 they enjoyed themselves very much, until it got 
 so cold that Mrs. Stanhope said she must go to 
 Cannes. Of course it immediately struck Stan- 
 hope, who adored his wife, that it was entirely 
 too cold to stay in Paris, and so they went 
 south, though their friends made a great fuss 
 over their departure. 
 
 They stayed away much longer than they had 
 intended, having been enticed into going to 
 Malta by some American acquaintances, and 
 when they got back to Paris hundreds of inter- 
 esting things seemed to have happened in their 
 absence, and a great many people and events 
 were being talked about of which they knew 
 nothing. But the wife of the American min- 
 ister, who was an old friend, went to see Mrs. 
 Stanhope immediately to invite her to an in- 
 formal dinner the next evening, and stayed the 
 entire afternoon, telling her of everything that 
 had happened and who all the new people were 
 the New American Beauty for instance. She 
 could not believe that her friend had not heard 
 of nor seen the New Beauty. 
 
 " Why, haven't you ever seen her pictures 
 and the notices of her ? " 
 
 Mrs. Stanhope was slightly aggrieved. She 
 knew absolutely nothing about her. 
 
 234
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 " And I am completely astonished tliat they 
 aren't talking of her at Cannes." 
 
 Mrs. Stanhope reminded her friend that she had 
 been immured at Malta since leaving the Riviera. 
 
 " Oh, well, of course her fame has reached 
 there by this time. Why, all Paris is talking 
 about her and you know yourself " observed 
 that astute lady, impressively "how much it 
 takes to make Paris stop and look at you." 
 Mrs. Stanhope said " Yes," and wanted to know 
 who The Beauty's people were, and where she 
 had come from. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," declared her friend. 
 " No one seems to inquire. She is so beautiful 
 and sufficient in herself that one does not care 
 much for the rest. They are immensely rich 
 recently, I believe though you would never 
 know it from her manner. She is charming and 
 thoroughly well-bred. Her father, I hear, is a 
 typical American business man not much en 
 evidence, you know. He leaves that to his 
 daughter, and she does it very well. He is a 
 Senator or something from the "West, and 
 made such a name for himself at Washington 
 that they thought he was too bright to stay 
 there, so they sent him over here to help settle 
 that international treaty affair you know per- 
 haps I don't, I only pretend to." 
 
 235
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 " How did she do it ? " demanded Mrs. Staii- 
 hope, in that simply comprehensive way women 
 have when talking about another woman. 
 
 " Oh, she just started right in. Courtelais 
 raved over her, and her father paid him twenty 
 thousand dollars to have her painted. The Col- 
 ony took her up, and the rest just followed nat- 
 urally. The portrait is really charming, though 
 she was dressed well, I don't think any French 
 girl would have sat in that costume." 
 
 " Is she really so beautiful ? " 
 
 " "Well not regularly beautiful, perhaps but 
 charming and fascinating, and awfully clever, 
 they say so clever that very few people sus- 
 pect her of it, and oh ! well, you can judge for 
 yourself to-morrow evening. By the way, every- 
 one says she is engaged already Comte de la 
 Tour. You used to know him, I think." She 
 rose to go. " He is very much in love with her, 
 that is evident." She thought it best to let Mrs. 
 Stanhope have that piece of news from herself. 
 She did not wish her friend to be taken at a dis- 
 advantage, especially in her own house. 
 
 Mrs. Stanhope felt the least bit startled. She 
 had known the Comte de la Tour very well in- 
 deed in Paris, several years before, and he had 
 been very much in love with her, and had ap- 
 peared quite genuinely broken-hearted when 
 
 236
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 she refused him. She had not seen him he 
 had not been in Paris when she was there dur- 
 ing the earlier part of the season but with the 
 comforting faith of people who have never been 
 in love, she had always believed that he would 
 get over his devotion to her, though she felt a 
 rather curious sensation on hearing that her ex- 
 pectations had been so fully realized, and she 
 felt a pardonable curiosity to see the girl who 
 had made him forget her. 
 
 She dressed very carefully for the American 
 Minister's the next evening, and looked a little 
 more than her usual handsome self, when her 
 carriage turned rapidly into the Avenue Hoche. 
 She was somewhat late, and although the Min- 
 ister and his wife were old friends, she felt wor- 
 ried with herself, for she had made it a rule to 
 be punctual at all social functions, and when 
 she entered the rooms she could see that the 
 guests wore that rather expectant air which sig- 
 nifies that dinner is already slightly behind 
 time. She hurried forward and denounced her- 
 self in polite fashion, but her hostess assured 
 her that several others had not yet arrived, and, 
 much relieved, she turned to speak to a bright 
 newspaper man, an old acquaintance, who had 
 arrived in Paris during her absence. 
 
 " I am so glad to find you again," he mur- 
 
 237
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 mured in his drawl; "they tell me you have 
 been to Malta. How fortunate for you ! I sup- 
 pose now you have been happy in an idyllic, 
 out-of-the-world way, and have not heard a word 
 about Brice's accident, nor the newspaper duel, 
 nor the New Beauty " 
 
 " But I am not happy, and shall not be until 
 I see your Beauty," protested Mrs. Stanhope. 
 "I've heard about her until I have an all-de- 
 vouring curiosity to behold her. I haven't even 
 seen the portrait, or a photograph ! " 
 
 He fell away from her in mock surprise and 
 despair, and was about to reply, when the por- 
 tieres were drawn aside and Mrs. Stanhope 
 saw coming into the room a very beautiful 
 young girl, with a rather childish, mobile face, 
 and magnificent eyes. She seemed to know 
 everyone, and bowed and smiled right and left 
 in an easy, bright sort of way. Mrs. Stanhope 
 would have known this was The Beauty, even if 
 her entrance had not been accompanied by that 
 significant hush and rather ridiculous closing up 
 of the men in her wake. There was a special 
 charm about the soft contour of her face, and 
 the heavy white satin of her gown, though rather 
 old for such a young girl, set off her beauty 
 admirably. 
 
 " Looks just like one of Goodrich's girls,
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 doesn't she ? " murmured the man 'at Mi's. Stan- 
 hope's elbow. But that lady was not paying 
 any attention to his remarks. She was looking 
 in a puzzled fashion at the girl's face, and won- 
 dering what there was about it so familiar. 
 
 " Isn't she deliciously beautiful? " he insisted, 
 " and clever ! I found it out quite by accident. 
 She's very careful about letting people know 
 how well informed she is. She's been to a col- 
 lege somewhere," he ran on. Mrs. Stanhope 
 was not listening. She was still looking, in a 
 rather abstracted way, at the young girl who 
 was holding a little court on the other side of 
 the room. Her hostess rustled up. 
 
 "I am going to send my husband to bring 
 The Beauty to you," she said, laughingly, and 
 swept across the room. In a moment Mrs. 
 Stanhope saw the girl take the Minister's arm, 
 and, followed on the other side by the Comte 
 de la Tour, start toward her. For some inex- 
 plicable reason she felt annoyed, and half wished 
 to avoid the introduction. The newspaper man 
 was interested. Mrs. Stanhope had never posed 
 as a professional beauty, and she w r as too noble 
 a woman to have her head turned by flattery, 
 but that did not alter the fact that she had been 
 considered the handsomest woman in the Amer- 
 ican colony at Paris, and, of course, she knew 
 
 239
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 it. He thought it would be interesting to see 
 how the acknowledged beauty received the 
 younger one. 
 
 When the two women were within a few feet 
 of each other, and before the American Minister 
 could say " Mrs. Stanhope," they each gave a 
 little cry of recognition, and it was the younger 
 one who first regained her composure and ex- 
 tended her hand. She stood there, flushed and 
 smiling, the lights falling on her dark hair and 
 gleaming shoulders, making of her, as the news- 
 paper man had said, one of " Goodrich's girls." 
 The childish look had gone out of her eyes, and 
 a little gleam of conscious triumph was in them. 
 There was just a shade of coldness, almost of 
 condescension, in her manner. While the Comte 
 was looking from one to the other, in a rather 
 mystified Avay, and the American Minister was 
 saying, " Why, I didn't know I thought " 
 Mrs. Stanhope's mind was running quickly back 
 to her first meeting with the girl before her, 
 and she could only remember, in a confused 
 sort of way, what this girl had once been like. 
 And so they stood for a moment it seemed an 
 interminably long time to the men looking a 
 little constrainedly at each other and smiling 
 vaguely. But the older woman quickly recov- 
 ered herself. She had no notion of being out- 
 
 240
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 done by the girl before her, and spoke bright- 
 
 iy- 
 
 " I did not recognize you ! How stupid of 
 me ! But you see the ' Beatrice ' confused me, 
 and then the French way everyone has of pro- 
 nouncing H-a-r-m-6-n completely put me off the 
 track ! " 
 
 She tried to be very friendly, and the young 
 girl smiled and looked easily the newspaper 
 man thought almost defiantly at her, but it 
 was plain to the three onlookers that in some 
 inscrutable way the meeting had been unfortu- 
 nate, and they each felt relieved, in an inexplic- 
 able fashion, when dinner was announced and 
 the snowy, gleaming length of damask and sil- 
 ver and wax lights stretched between the two 
 women. 
 
 That night the Comte thought a good deal 
 about the reception of his fiancee by the woman 
 he had once loved, and decided that the Amer- 
 ican woman was a trifle exigeante, and wondered 
 whether Mrs. Stanhope had really expected him 
 never to marry. 
 
 The American Minister confided to his wife 
 that he was disappointed in Eva Stanhope, and 
 that she had always appeared so free from van- 
 
 241
 
 A Short Study in Evolution 
 
 ity and so superior to the little meannesses of 
 women that he was very much surprised at the 
 way she had acted. 
 
 The newspaper man, being exceedingly wise 
 in his generation, smoked three cigars over it 
 on the way to his hotel, and then gave it up. 
 
 243
 
 THE GENIUS OF BOWLDER BLUFF
 
 THE GENIUS OF BOWLDER BLUFF 
 
 MISS AENOLD found him wandering aim- 
 lessly, though with a pleased, interested 
 look, around the dimly lit College Library. She 
 had gone there herself to escape for a few mo- 
 ments from the heat and lights and the crowd 
 around the Scotch celebrity to whom the re- 
 ception was being tendered, and was looking 
 rather desultorily at an article in the latest 
 Revue des Deux Mondes, when he emerged from 
 one of the alcoves and stood hesitatingly before 
 her. She saw that he was not a guest. He was 
 not in evening dress it occurred to her even 
 then how entirely out of his element he would 
 have looked in a conventional dress - suit but 
 wore new clothes of some rough material which 
 fitted him badly. He was so evidently lost and 
 so painfully aware of it that she hastened to 
 ask him if she could do anything for him. 
 
 "I'm lookin' fur my daughter, Ellen Old- 
 ham," he said, gratefully. " Do you know her ? " 
 
 He seemed much surprised and a little hurt 
 when Miss Arnold shook her head, smilingly. 
 
 245
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 " You see, there are so many " she began, 
 
 noting his disappointed look. 
 
 " Then I s'pose you can't find her fer me. 
 You see," he explained, gently, " I wrote her I 
 wuz comin' ter-morrer, an' I came ter-night fur 
 a surprise a surprise," he repeated, delight- 
 edly. " But I'm mighty disappointed not ter 
 find her. This is the first time I ever wuz so 
 fur east. But I hed to see Ellen couldn't stan' 
 it no longer. You see," he continued, ner- 
 vously, "I thought mebbe I could stay here 
 three or four days, but last night I got a tele- 
 gram from my pardner on the mountain sayin' 
 there wuz trouble among the boys an' fur me 
 ter come back. But I I jest couldn't go back 
 without seein' Ellen, so I came on ter-night fur 
 a surprise, but I must start back right oft, an' 
 I'm mighty disappointed not ter be seein' her 
 all this time. Hed no idea yer college wuz 
 such a big place thought I could walk right 
 in an' spot her," he ran on meditatively "I 
 thought it wuz something like Miss Bellairs's an' 
 Miss Tompkins's an' Miss Band's all rolled inter 
 one. But Lord! it's a sight bigger'n that! 
 Well, I'm glad of it. I've thought fur years 
 about Ellen's havin' a college eddication, an' 
 I'm glad to see it's a real big college. Never 
 hed no schoolin' myself, but I jest set my heart 
 
 248
 
 T\)e Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 on Ellen's havin' it. Why shouldn't she ? I've 
 got ther money. Hed to work mighty hard 
 fur it, but I've got it, an' she wanted ter come 
 to college, and I wanted her to come, so of 
 course she came. I met another young wom- 
 an," he continued, smiling frankly at the girl 
 before him ; " she wasn't so fine-lookin' as you, 
 but she was a very nice young woman, an' she 
 promised to send Ellen ter me, but she hasn't 
 done it ! " 
 
 Miss Arnold felt a sudden interest in the old 
 man. 
 
 " Perhaps," she began, doubtfully, " if you 
 could tell me what her class is, or in what 
 building she has her rooms, I might find her." 
 
 He looked at the young girl incredulously. 
 
 "Ain't you never heard of her?" he de- 
 manded. " Why, everybody knew her at Miss 
 Bellairs's. But p'r'aps " in a relieved sort of 
 way " p'r'aps you ain't been here long. This 
 is Ellen's second year." 
 
 Miss Arnold felt slightly aggrieved. " I am 
 a Senior," she replied, and then added courte- 
 ously, " but I am sure the loss has been mine." 
 
 She could not make this man out, quite he 
 was so evidently uncultivated, so rough and 
 even uncouth, and yet there was a look of qui- 
 et power in his honest eyes, and he was so 
 
 247
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 unaffectedly simple and kindly that she in- 
 stinctively recognized the innate nobility of 
 his character. She felt interested in him, but 
 somewhat puzzled as to how to continue the 
 conversation, and so she turned rather help- 
 lessly to her magazine. 
 
 But he came over and stood beside her, 
 looking down wonderingly at the unfamiliar 
 words and accents. 
 
 " Can you read all that ? " he asked, doubt- 
 
 fully. 
 
 Miss Arnold said "Yes." 
 
 "Jest like English?" he persisted. 
 
 She explained that she had had a French 
 nurse when she was little, and afterward a 
 French governess, and that she had always 
 spoken French as she had English. He seemed 
 to be immensely impressed by that and looked 
 at her very intently and admiringly, and then he 
 suddenly looked away, and said, in a changed 
 tone : 
 
 "I never hed no French nurse fur Ellen. 
 Lord! it wuz hard enough to get any kind in 
 them days," he said, regretfully. "But she's 
 been studyin' French fur two years now 
 p'rhaps she speaks almost as good as you do 
 by this time she's mighty smart." 
 
 Miss Arnold looked up quickly at the honest, 
 
 248
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 kindly face above her with the hopeful expres- 
 sion in the eyes, and some sudden impulse made 
 her say, quite cheerfully and assuringly, " Oh, 
 yes of course." 
 
 She was just going to add that she would go 
 to the office and send someone to look for Miss 
 Oldham, when a slender, rather pretty girl 
 passed the library door, hesitated, peering 
 through the half-light, and then came swiftly 
 toward them. 
 
 "With a cry of inexpressible tenderness and 
 delight the old man sprang toward her. 
 
 " Ellen ! " he said, " Ellen ! " 
 
 She clung to him for a few moments and then 
 drew off rather shyly and awkwardly, with a 
 sort of mauvaise honte which struck disagreeably 
 on Miss Arnold, and looked inquiringly and al- 
 most defiantly from her father to the girl watch- 
 ing them. 
 
 " This young woman," he said, understanding 
 her unspoken inquiry, " has been very kind to 
 me, Ellen we've been talkin'." 
 
 Miss Arnold came forward. 
 
 " I think we ought to be friends," she said, 
 graciously. " I am Clara Arnold. Your father 
 tells me this is your Sophomore year." 
 
 The girl met her advances coldly and stiffly. 
 She had never met Miss Arnold before, but she 
 
 249
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 had known very well who she was, and she had 
 envied her, and had almost disliked her for her 
 good looks and her wealth and her evident supe- 
 riority. She comprehended that this girl had 
 been born to what she had longed for in a vague, 
 impotent way, and had never known. She 
 wished that Miss Arnold had not witnessed the 
 meeting with her father that Miss Arnold had 
 not seen her father at all. And then, with the 
 shame at her unworthy thoughts came a rush of 
 pity and love for the man standing there, smil- 
 ing so patiently and so tenderly at her. She 
 put one hand on his arm and drew herself closer 
 to him. 
 
 " Father ! " she said. 
 
 Miss Arnold stood looking at them, turning 
 her clear eyes from one to the other. It inter- 
 ested her tremendously the simple, kindly old 
 man, in his rough clothes, and with his homely 
 talk and his fatherly pride and happiness in the 
 pretty, irresolute-looking girl beside him. It 
 occurred to her suddenly, with a thrill of pity 
 for herself, that she had never seen her father 
 look at her in that way. He would have been 
 inordinately surprised and she felt sure very 
 much annoyed, if she had ever kissed his hand 
 or laid her head on his arm as this girl was now 
 doing. He had been an extremely kind and con- 
 
 250
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 siderate father to her. It struck her for the 
 first time that she had missed something that 
 after providing the rather pretentiously grand- 
 looking house and grounds, and the servants 
 and carriages and conservatories, her father had 
 forgotten to provide something far more essen- 
 tial. But she was so much interested in the two 
 before her that she did not have much time to 
 think of herself. She concluded that she did 
 not want to go back to the Scotch celebrity, and 
 resolutely ignored the surprised looks of some 
 of her friends who passed the library door and 
 made frantic gestures for her to come forth and 
 join them. But when they had moved away it 
 occurred to her that she ought to leave the two 
 together, and so she half rose to go, but the 
 man, divining her intention, said, heartily : 
 
 " Don't go don't go ! Ellen's goin' to show 
 me about this big college, an' we want you to go, 
 too." 
 
 He was speaking to Miss Arnold, but his eyes 
 never left the girl's face beside him, while he 
 gently stroked her hair as if she had been a lit- 
 tle child. 
 
 And so they walked up and down the long li- 
 brary, and they showed him the Milton shield, 
 and dragged from their recesses rare books, and 
 pointed out the pictures and autographs of dif- 
 
 251
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bin/ 
 
 ferent celebrities. He seemed very much inter- 
 ested and very grateful to them for their trou- 
 ble, and never ashamed to own how new it all 
 was to him nor how ignorant he was, and he did 
 not try to conceal his pride in his daughter's 
 education and mental superiority to himself. 
 And when Miss Arnold realized that, she qui- 
 etly effaced herself and let the younger girl do 
 all the honors, only helping her now and then 
 with suggestions or statistics. 
 
 " You see," he explained, simply, after a 
 lengthy and, as it seemed to Miss Arnold, a 
 somewhat fruitless dissertation on the splendid 
 copy of the " Rubaiyat " lying before them 
 " you see I don't know much about these things. 
 Never hed no chance. But Ellen knows, so 
 what's the use of my knowin' ? She can put her 
 knowledge to use ; but, Lord ! I couldn't if I 
 hed it. 
 
 " You see it was like this," he continued, 
 cheerfully, turning to Miss Arnold, while the 
 girl at his side raised her head for an instant 
 and uttered a low exclamation of protest. " We 
 lived out West in a minin'camp in Colorado 
 Bowlder Bluff wuz its name. Awfully lonesome 
 place. No schools nothin', jest the store my 
 store an' the mines not fur off. Ellen wuz 
 about twelve then " he turned inquiringly to 
 
 252
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 the girl, but she would not look up "about 
 twelve," he continued, after a slight pause, and 
 another gentle caress of the brown hair ; " an' I 
 hedn't never given a thought to wimmen's eddi- 
 cation, an' Ellen here wuz jest growin' up not 
 knowin' a thing except how I loved her an' 
 couldn't bear her out of my sight " (with another 
 caress), " when one day there came to ther camp 
 a college chap. He wuz an English chap, an' 
 he wuz hard-up. But he wuz a gentleman an' 
 he'd been to a college Oxford wuz the name 
 an' he took a heap of notice of Ellen, an' said 
 she wuz mighty smart yes, Ellen, even then 
 we knew you wuz smart an' that she ought to 
 have schoolin' an' not run aroun' the camp any 
 more. At first I didn't pay no attention to him. 
 But by an' by his views did seem mighty sensi- 
 ble, an' he kep' naggin at me. He used to talk 
 to me about it continual, an' at night we'd sit 
 out under the pines and talk he with a fur- 
 away sort of look in his eyes an' the smoke curl- 
 in' up from his pipe an' he'd tell me what ed- 
 dication meant to wimmen independence an' 
 happiness an' all that, an' he insisted fur Ellen 
 to go to a good school. He said there wuz big 
 colleges fur wimmen just like there wuz fur 
 men, an' that she ought to have a chance an' go 
 to one. 
 
 253
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 " An' then he would read us a lot of stuff of 
 evenin's specially poetry. Shelley in particu- 
 lar. And yet another chap, almost better'n Shel- 
 ley. Keats wuz his name. P'rhaps you've read 
 some of his poetry ? " he inquired, turning po- 
 litely to Miss Arnold. Something in her throat 
 kept her from speaking, so she only lowered her 
 head and looked away from the drawn, averted 
 face of the girl before her. " He wuz great ! 
 All about gods an' goddesses an' things one 
 don't know much about ; but then, as I take it, 
 poetry always seems a little fur off, so it wuz 
 kind of natural. But Shelley wuz our favorite. 
 He used to read us soniethin' about the wind. 
 Regularly fine jest sturred us up, I can tell you. 
 We knew what storms an' dead leaves an' ' black 
 rain an' fire an' hail ' wuz out on them lonesome 
 mountains. An' sometimes he'd read us other 
 things, stories from magazines, an' books, but it 
 kind of made me feel lonesomer than ever. 
 
 " But Ellen here, she took to it all like a duck 
 to water, an' the college chap kep' insistin' that 
 she ought to go to a good school, an' that she 
 showed ' great natural aptitude ' them wuz his 
 words an' that she might be famous some day, 
 till at last I got regularly enthusiastic about 
 wimmen's eddication, an' I jest determined not 
 to waste any more time, an' so I sent her to Miss 
 
 2S4
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 Bellairs's at Denver. She wuz all I hed, an' 
 Lord knows I hedn't no particular reason to feel 
 confidence in wimmen folks " a sudden, curious, 
 hard expression came into his face for a moment 
 and then died swiftly away as he turned from 
 Miss Arnold and looked at the girl beside him. 
 " But I sent her, an' she ain't never been back 
 to the camp, an' she's been all I ever hoped 
 she'd be." 
 
 They had passed from the faintly lighted li- 
 brary into the brilliant corridors, and the man, 
 towering in rugged strength above the two girls, 
 cast curious glances about him as they walked 
 slowly along. Everything seemed to interest 
 him, and when they came to the Greek recita- 
 tion-rooms he insisted, with boyish eagerness, 
 upon going in, and the big photogravures of the 
 Acropolis and the charts of the 2Egean Sea, and 
 even a passage from the " Seven against Thebes " 
 (copied upon the walls doubtless by some un- 
 lucky Sophomore), and which was so hopelessly 
 unintelligible to him, seemed to fascinate him. 
 And when they came to the physical laborato- 
 ries he took a wonderful, and, as it seemed to 
 Miss Arnold, an almost pathetic interest in the 
 spectroscopes and Ruhmkorff coils, and the bat- 
 teries only half-discernable in the faintly flaring 
 lights. 
 
 255
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 And as they strolled about he still talked of 
 Ellen and himself and their former life, and the 
 life that was to be when Ellen should become 
 famous. For little by little Miss Arnold com- 
 prehended that that was his one fixed idea. As 
 he talked, slowly it came to her what this man 
 was, and what his life had been how he had 
 centred every ambition on the girl beside him, 
 separated her from him, at what cost only the 
 mountain pines and the stars which had wit- 
 nessed his nightly struggles with himself could 
 tell; how he had toiled and striven for her 
 that she might have the education he had 
 never known. She began to understand what 
 " going to college " had meant to this girl 
 and this man to this man especially. It had 
 not meant the natural ending of a preparatory 
 course at some school and a something to be 
 gone through with creditably, if possible, but 
 also, if possible, without too great exertion and 
 with no expectation of extraordinary results. It 
 had had a much greater significance to them than 
 that. It had been regarded as an event of in- 
 calculable importance, an introduction into a 
 new world, the first distinct step upon the road 
 to fame. It had meant to them what a titled 
 offer means to a struggling young American 
 beauty, or a word of approbation to an under- 
 
 256
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 lieutenant from his colonel, or a successful 
 maiden speech on the absorbing topic of the 
 day, or any other great and wonderful happen- 
 ing, with greater and more wonderful possibili- 
 ties hovering in the background. 
 
 She began to realize just how his hopes and his 
 ambitions and his belief in this girl had grown 
 and strengthened, until the present and the 
 future held nothing for him but her happi- 
 ness and advancement and success. It was 
 a curious idea, a strange ambition for a man 
 of his calibre to have set his whole heart upon, 
 and as Miss Arnold looked at the girl who 
 was to realize his hopes, a sharp misgiving 
 arose within her and she wondered, with sud- 
 den fierce pity, why God had not given this man 
 a son. 
 
 But Ellen seemed all he wanted. He told, in 
 a proud, apologetic sort of way, while the girl 
 protested with averted eyes, how she had al- 
 ways been " first " at " Miss Bellairs's " and that 
 he supposed " she stood pretty well up in her 
 classes" at college. And Miss Arnold looked 
 at the white, drawn face of the girl and said, 
 quite steadily, she had no doubt but that Miss 
 Oldham was a fine student. She was an ex- 
 ceptionally truthful girl, but she was proud and 
 glad to have said that when she saw the look of 
 
 257
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 happiness that kindled on the face of the man. 
 Yet she felt some compunctions when she noted 
 how simply and unreservedly he took her into 
 his confidence. 
 
 And what he told her was just such a story 
 as almost all mothers and fathers tell of the 
 precocious and wonderful intellect of their 
 children and the great hopes they have of them. 
 But with this man it was different in some way. 
 He was so deeply in earnest and so hopeful and 
 so tender that Miss Arnold could scarcely bear 
 it. " Ellen " was to be a poet; Had she not 
 written verses when she was still a girl, and had 
 not the "college chap" and her teachers de- 
 clared she had great talents ? Wait he would 
 let Miss Arnold judge for herself. Only lately 
 he had written to Ellen, asking her if she still re- 
 membered their lonely mountain-home, and she 
 had sent him this. They had strolled down 
 the corridor to one of the winding stairways 
 at the end: He drew from his large leather 
 purse a folded paper. The girl watched him 
 open it with an inexpressible fear in her eyes, 
 and when she saw what it was she started for- 
 ward with a sort of gasp, and then turned 
 away and steadied herself against the balus- 
 trade. 
 
 He spread out the paper with exaggerated 
 
 258
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 care, and read, with the monotonously painful 
 intonations of the unpractised reader : 
 
 " Ye storm-winds of Autumn I 
 
 Who rush by, who shake 
 The window, and ruffle 
 
 The gleam-lighted lake ; 
 "Who cross to the hill-side 
 
 Thin sprinkled with farms, 
 Where the high woods strip sadly 
 
 Their yellow arms 
 Ye are bound for the mountains ! 
 
 Oh ! with you let me go 
 Where your cold, distant barrier, 
 
 The vast range of snow, 
 Through the loose clouds lifts dimly 
 
 Its white peaks in air 
 How deep is their stillness ! 
 
 Ah ! would I were there I " 
 
 As he read, Miss Arnold turned her eyes, 
 burning with an unutterable indignation and 
 scorn, upon the girl, but the mute misery and 
 awful supplication in her face checked the words 
 upon her lips. When he had finished reading, 
 Miss Arnold murmured something, she hardly 
 knew what, but he would not let her off so easily. 
 
 What did she think of it ? did she not think 
 he ought to be proud of Ellen? and was the 
 "gleam-lighted lake "the lake they could see 
 from the piazza ? 
 
 259
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 He ran on, taking it for granted that Miss 
 Arnold was interested in his hopes and dreams, 
 and almost without waiting for or expecting re- 
 plies. And at last he told her the great secret. 
 Ellen was writing a book. He spoke of it almost 
 with awe in a suppressed sort of fashion. She 
 had not told him yet much about it, but he 
 seemed wholly confident in its future success. 
 He wondered which of the big publishing 
 houses would want it most. 
 
 Miss Arnold gave a quick gasp of relief. 
 There was more to this girl, then, than she 
 had dared to hope. She glanced eagerly and ex- 
 pectantly toward her, and in that one look she 
 read the whole pitiable lie. Ellen was looking 
 straight ahead of her, and the hopeless misery 
 and shame in her eyes Miss Arnold never for- 
 got. All the pretty, weak curves about the 
 mouth and chin had settled into hard lines, 
 and a nameless fear distorted every feature. 
 But the man seemed to notice nothing, and 
 walked on with head uplifted and a proud, al- 
 most inspired look upon his rugged face. 
 
 " When will the book be finished, Ellen ? " he 
 asked, at length. 
 
 The girl looked up, and Miss Arnold noted 
 with amazement her wonderful control. 
 
 " It will not be very long now, father," she 
 
 260
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 replied. She was acting her difficult part very 
 perfectly. It occurred to Miss Arnold that for 
 many years this girl had been so acting, and as 
 she looked at the strong, quiet features of the 
 man she shuddered slightly and wondered how 
 it would be with her when he knew. 
 
 When the carriage which was to take him to 
 the station for the midnight train into Boston 
 had driven from the door, the two girls looked 
 at each other steadily for an instant. 
 
 " Come to my study for a few moments," said 
 the younger one, imperiously. Miss Arnold ac- 
 quiesced silently, and together they moved down 
 the long corridor to Miss Oldham's rooms. 
 
 " I want to explain," she began, breathlessly, 
 leaning against the closed door and watching 
 with strained, wide-opened eyes Miss Arnold's 
 face, upon which the light from the lamp fell 
 strong and full. 
 
 " I want to explain," she repeated, defiantly 
 this time. " You had no right to come between 
 myself and my father ! I wish with all my heart 
 you had never seen him, but since you have seen 
 him I must explain. I am not entirely the 
 hypocrite and the coward you take me for." 
 She stopped suddenly and gave a low cry. 
 " Ah ! what shall I say to make you understand ? 
 
 261
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 It began so long ago I did not mean to deceive 
 him. It was because I loved him and he 
 thought me so clever. He thought because I 
 was quick and bright, and because I was hav- 
 ing a college education, that I was different. 
 In his ignorance how could he guess the great 
 difference between a superficial aptitude and 
 real talents ? How could I tell him how could 
 I," with a despairing gesture, "that I was just 
 like thousands of other girls, and that there are 
 hundreds right here in this college who are my 
 superiors in every way ? It would have broken 
 his heart." Her breath came in short gasps 
 and the pallor of her face had changed to a dull 
 red. 
 
 Miss Arnold leaned forward on the table. 
 
 "You have grossly deceived him," she said, 
 in cold, even tones. 
 
 " Deceived him ? yes a thousand times 
 and in a thousand ways. But I did it to make 
 him happy. Am I really to blame? He ex- 
 pected so much of me he had such hopes and 
 such dreams of some great career for me. I am 
 a coward. I could not tell him that I was a 
 weak, ordinary girl, that I could never realize 
 his aspirations, that the mere knowledge that he 
 depended and relied upon me weighed upon me 
 and paralyzed every effort. When I loved him
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 so could I tell him this ? Could I tell him that 
 his sacrifices were in vain, that the girl of whom 
 he had boasted to every man in the mining 
 camp was a complete failure ? " 
 
 She went over to the table and leaned her 
 head upon her shaking hand. 
 
 " If my mother if I had had a brother or 
 sister, it might have been different, but I was 
 alone and I was all he had. And so I struggled on, 
 half hoping that I might become something after 
 all. But I confessed to myself what I could not to 
 him, that I would never become a scholar, that 
 my intellect was wholly superficial, that the 
 verses I wrote were the veriest trash, that I was 
 only doing what ninety-nine out of every hun- 
 dred girls did, and that ninety-eight wrote better 
 rhymes than I. There is a whole drawerful of 
 my ' poetry ' ' she flung open a desk disdain- 
 fully "until I could stand it no longer, and 
 one day when he asked me to write something 
 about the mountains, in desperation I copied 
 those verses of Matthew Arnold's. I knew he 
 would never see them. After that it was easy 
 to do so again." She stopped and pressed her 
 hands to her eyes. 
 
 " I am the most miserable girl that lives," she 
 said. 
 
 Miss Arnold looked at her coldly. 
 
 263
 
 Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 " And the book ? " she said at length. 
 
 Miss Oldham lifted her head wearily. 
 
 " It was all a falsehood. He kept asking me 
 if I were not writing a book. He thought one 
 had only to write a book to become famous. It 
 seemed so easy not to oppose the idea, and little 
 by little I fell into the habit of talking about ' the 
 book ' as if it were really being written. I did 
 not try to explain to myself what I was doing. 
 I simply drifted with the current of his desires 
 and hopes. It may seem strange to you that a 
 man like my father should have had such ambi- 
 tions, and stranger still that he should have ever 
 dreamed I could realize them. But one has 
 strange fancies alone with one's self out on the 
 mountains, and the isolation and self-concentra- 
 tion of the life give an intensity to any desire or 
 expectation that you, who live in an ever-chang- 
 ing world, cannot understand." 
 
 Miss Arnold looked at the girl curiously. She 
 wondered for the first time if there was any ex- 
 cuse for her. She had a singularly strong moral 
 nature herself, and she could not quite under- 
 stand this girl's weakness and deceit. The fact 
 that she loved her father so deeply only added 
 to the mystery. 
 
 She arose. "If I were you" she began, 
 coldly, but Miss Oldham stopped her. 
 
 2C4
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 "It is all finished now," she said. She, too, 
 had arisen, and was standing against the door, 
 looking down and speaking in the monotonous 
 tone of someone reciting a lesson. 
 
 " I have decided, and I shall go to my father, 
 and I shall say, ' I have deceived you ; I have 
 neither courage nor honesty. There might have 
 been an excuse for another girl a girl who did 
 not understand you or who did not love you, or 
 who did not know just how much her success 
 meant to you. For me there is none. I, who 
 knew how strange the idea at first seemed to 
 you of your daughter's being an educated, ac- 
 complished girl ; I, who knew how little by little 
 the idea became a passion with you, how proud 
 and how fond you were of her, how you worked 
 and prayed that she might be something differ- 
 ent and better than the rest I, who knew all 
 this, have still deceived you. There is but one 
 thing I dare ask you, Will you not let me go 
 back to the mountain with you, and serve you and 
 be to you the daughter I have not been as yet ? " 
 
 She stopped suddenly and looked at Miss Ar- 
 nold. 
 
 "That is what I must do, is it not?" she 
 asked, dully. 
 
 Miss Arnold went over to her. 
 
 " That is what you must do," she said, gently. 
 
 265
 
 The Genius of Bowlder Bluff 
 
 It was almost two weeks later when Miss Ar- 
 nold, coming in from a long walk, found a letter 
 lying on her table. It bore an unfamiliar post- 
 mark, and the superscription had evidently been 
 written in great haste or agitation. She tore it 
 open with a feeling of apprehension. 
 
 "My punishment has come upon me," it ran. 
 " My father is dead. I got a telegram at Den- 
 ver they met me at the foot of the mountain. 
 I cannot say anything now. As yet I have but 
 one thought and one comfort he never knew ! 
 Think of me as you will I am glad he never 
 did! 
 
 "E. O." 
 
 266
 
 TIME AND TIDE
 
 TIME AND TIDE 
 
 IT was the usual scene at College theatricals. 
 There was the inevitable six-foot tenor in a 
 white muslin dress, abnormally long blond plaits, 
 and a high falsetto which would descend every 
 now and then into a barytone ; and there was 
 the German bass-villain who took unpardonable 
 liberties with the tenor-maiden, considering the 
 latter's muscular superiority ; and there was the 
 wicked and beautiful maid with very much 
 blackened eyebrows and very much rouged 
 cheeks, who forgot every now and then and 
 winked knowingly at some particular chum in 
 the audience ; and there were the usual hitches 
 in the curtain, and the heat and lights, and 
 crowds of students and rapt young women from 
 neighboring institutions of learning, who were 
 gazing with mingled admiration and pity at the 
 wonderfully large hands and feet of the prima- 
 donna and soubrette. 
 
 Every now and then, chinks of daylight came 
 in from lifted blinds, damaging the looks of the 
 tenor's complexion considerably, and the German 
 
 269
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 villain was getting hoarse, and the ballet refused 
 to repeat the " butterfly " dance, and the student 
 enthusiasm was beginning to flag. At last, how- 
 ever, the finale came. The tenor fell happily, if 
 a trifle heavily, into the arms of the barytone, 
 whose operatic raison-d'etre had up to that mo- 
 ment been rather obscure, the German villain 
 gave a last gasp, and the chorus came out firm 
 and strong on the pretty refrain, and then every- 
 body got up and walked about, and the men in- 
 troduced their friends to the young women with 
 them, and everybody said it was a great success, 
 if a trifle warm, and then they all went home and 
 said it wasn't as good as " last year's." 
 
 Miss Elise Ronald and her chaperon and party 
 stood near the door, talking to several men, and 
 waiting for the tenor, who was a particular friend 
 and who had invited them over. It seemed to 
 them that he was a great while making his ap- 
 pearance, and they were very anxious to know 
 what he was doing. They would have been 
 much shocked if they had known. Mr. Perry 
 Cunningham was swearing. In his frantic hurry 
 to get out of the extraordinary muslin dress and 
 blond wig, and wash the paint and mongolian 
 and pearl powder off his face, everything seemed 
 to have gone wrong. To add to the excitement 
 and worry his " dresser " had misplaced some of 
 
 270
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 his things, and the stage-manager was trying to 
 buttonhole him to talk business. 
 
 The chaperon, who was tired standing, said she 
 would walk on with the rest, and that Miss Ron- 
 ald would please follow the moment Mr. Cun- 
 ningham arrived. So the girl said " yes " veiy 
 obediently, and was left standing, talking with 
 her brother and a youthful freshman who had 
 asked to be presented. As time passed and no 
 Mr. Perry Cunningham appeared, Miss Ronald 
 delicately hinted to her brother that he had best 
 hunt him up and tell him that she was waiting ; 
 but that amiable youth, with delightful optimism, 
 assured his sister warmly that "Cunningham 
 would soon be out of his fancy togs and would 
 turn up all right," and disappeared in the direc- 
 tion of Hemenway. 
 
 It was only a short while later that Mr. Cun- 
 ningham did come up, breathless and profusely 
 apologetic, and the freshman with rare discreet- 
 ness, divining that his presence was not abso- 
 lutely necessary, bowed and moved off. 
 
 "Awfully sorry, Miss Ronald," gasped Cun- 
 ningham, " 'spect I kept you waitin' an awful 
 time. That that ' dresser ' of mine put half my 
 things with another fellow's and I had a time 
 getting them straight." 
 
 Miss Ronald said it did not matter and that 
 
 271
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 the chaperon had gone on with the rest, and that 
 they were to catch up. 
 
 " You know we must get that 5.50 train back 
 to the College," she explained. So they strolled 
 up Harvard Square, and Miss Ronald assured 
 Cunningham that his solo in the second act was 
 the gem of the operetta, and Cunningham was 
 saying impressively that he was glad she liked it, 
 when it occurred to both of them that the chap- 
 eron and the rest of the party had somehow dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 " Did they intend getting the train in Boston 
 or going over to Allston for it ? " asked Cun- 
 ningham. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," replied Miss Ronald, 
 helplessly. " How stupid of me I never 
 thought to ask ! " 
 
 Cunningham said it would be rather easier, he 
 thought, to get over to Allston, and that they had 
 probably gone that way. So they boarded a car 
 and got to Allston at ten minutes of six " ex- 
 cellent time," as Cunningham remarked walking 
 inside the station to buy the tickets. He was 
 gone so long that Miss Ronald started in after 
 him, fearing every minute to hear the train 
 come thundering up. When she saw him she 
 knew by his face that something was the matter. 
 
 " The ticket-man has just told me this con- 
 
 272
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 founded train doesn't stop at Allston," he said, 
 coming quickly toward her. " It's an outrage 
 the company oughtn't to run its trains so ir- 
 regularly. It's a beastly shame ! How's a per- 
 son going to remember where a train stops and 
 where it doesn't ? " he added excitedly, and a 
 trifle vaguely. 
 
 Miss Konald was very much disturbed and a 
 little indignant. Cunningham felt very sorry 
 for the girl and inclined to blame himself for the 
 mistake, but Miss Eonald assured him that it 
 was not his fault, and that what he had to do 
 now was to think how best they could get back 
 to the College. It was while they were stand- 
 ing on the platform "thinking," that the 5.50 
 from Boston rushed by and they caught sight of 
 the anxious face of the chaperon at the win- 
 dow. 
 
 " Nice people to go off and leave me this way," 
 soliloquized Miss Ronald, indignantly. Cun- 
 ningham walked inside to scrutinize the time- 
 table. When he came out his face wore so hope- 
 ful an expression that Miss Ronald brightened 
 visibly. "I have a scheme," he declared. 
 " There's a train into Boston that comes along 
 in fifteen minutes and that will get us in there 
 at 6.25 too late to get the 6.22 out ; but we can 
 go to the Thorndyke and have a little dinner, 
 
 273
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 and catch the 7.30 which will get you to 'the 
 College ' at 8.17. You see it would take us at 
 least two hours to drive over, so that by iny 
 plan we shall have our dinner and get back as 
 soon as if we started now with a trap. And if 
 you will wait here a minute, I'll telegraph your 
 chaperon that we will be out on the 7.30, so she 
 won't be uneasy about you." 
 
 He was so evidently pleased and relieved 
 with his arrangement that Miss Ronald hadn't 
 the heart to offer any objections. They got up 
 to the Thorndyke and secured a delightful table 
 by an open window, and by the time they had 
 ordered a rather elaborate dinner, Miss Ronald's 
 righteous indignation at her abandonment by 
 the chaperon had stifled any feelings of remorse 
 at her consent to Cunningham's " scheme." So 
 they ate in peace and talked about the operetta 
 and their friends, and she was enjoying it all 
 immensely, and had quite forgotten her anxiety 
 to get back to College and her keen doubts 
 about the propriety of the adventure, when her 
 eyes happened to fall upon a bronze clock on 
 the mantel at the other end of the room, and she 
 gave a little cry of dismay. Cunningham fol- 
 lowed the direction of her gaze and said "by 
 Jove " under his breath in a very forcible sort of 
 way. He pulled out his watch aiid found it 
 
 274
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 tallied uncompromisingly with the clock. He 
 beckoned sharply to the waiter. 
 
 " Is that clock exactly right ? " he demanded, 
 excitedly. The waiter assured him that the 
 clock's record was unimpeachable. 
 
 " There is simply no use trying to make that 
 7.30 in three minutes, Miss Ronald," remarked 
 the youth, mournfully. "It's all my fault. I 
 was enjoying myself so much that I never 
 noticed how late it was," he went on, remorse- 
 fully. " Now I suppose you'll be in no end of 
 a scrape. What do they do to you when you 
 come in late ? Send you to the dean ? " 
 
 His evident anxiety and utter ignorance of 
 the rules of the College would have amused Miss 
 Eonald if she had not been so hopelessly de- 
 jected. As it was, she made an heroic effort to 
 brighten up and smiled sadly at Cunningham. 
 " No they only put us on bread and water for 
 a week," she said, at which feeble attempt at a 
 joke they both laughed miserably. 
 
 Cunningham called the waiter again. 
 
 " Bring me a Boston and Albany time-table," 
 he said. When the man came back with the 
 precious bit of paper, the girl and the youth bent 
 anxiously over it. 
 
 " There's a train at nine o'clock and one at 
 nine -thirty," he said. " The nine o'clock is a 
 
 275
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 slow train, stops everywhere, and only gets you 
 to the College ten minutes sooner than the other." 
 
 Miss Ronald looked so miserable that Cun- 
 ningham began to feel very desperate indeed. 
 He determined to do something to lighten her 
 despair. 
 
 " Suppose we go up-town and see Sothern in 
 ' Sheridan ? '" he suggested. " We can get down 
 to the station for the nine-thirty, and we can 
 see the first two acts. It's a charming play 
 ever seen it ? " 
 
 Miss Eonald said " No o," and was not sure 
 that they had better go to the theatre, but she 
 did not wish to go to any of her friends and tell 
 them of her rather ridiculous predicament, and 
 there was nothing for it but to consent to the 
 theatre plan. So Cunningham called for the bill 
 and they strolled slowly up to the theatre to kill 
 time. They took seats far back so as to be able 
 to escape easily. " Sheridan " is a very pretty 
 play, as everyone knows, but Cunningham felt so 
 responsible for the girl that he was much too 
 nervous properly to appreciate it. He saw, 
 however, that Miss Konald was enjoying her- 
 self very much, and he decided to stay till the 
 last moment, but kept his watch open in his 
 hand for fear of running over the time. He 
 knew they could get to Kneeland Street in 
 
 276
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 seven or eight minutes with a cab, and so, at 
 exactly fifteen minutes after nine, he arose and 
 told Miss Ronald it was time to go. They 
 wasted a few moments getting out, and then 
 Cunningham called a cab and told the driver to 
 go to the Boston and Albany station as fast as 
 he could. 
 
 It may have been these unfortunate direc- 
 tions, or it may have been Fate at any rate, at 
 the corner of "Washington and Essex Streets 
 there was a sudden commotion and noise ; Cun- 
 ningham and Miss Ronald felt a terrible jolt, and 
 a great many people seemed to have sprung sud- 
 denly out of the earth and to be asking them if 
 they were hurt. As they were not at all hurt they 
 were rather indignant, and Cunningham jumped 
 impatiently out of the cab to see what all the 
 fuss was about. He was not long in ignorance. 
 The horse lay on its side with a broken shaft 
 sticking up and the harness half off him. The 
 coachmau was swearing impartially at the peo- 
 ple about him, and an ice-wagon with which the 
 cab had collided stood by unhurt, the driver of 
 it in a hopeless state of intoxication and wrath. 
 Cunningham looked anxiously around him, and 
 to his consternation not another cab was in sight. 
 There seemed to be a lull in the traffic of the 
 street, and very few people or vehicles were to 
 
 377
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 be seen except those collected around the scene 
 of the accident. The two drivers were wrang- 
 ling and swearing at each other, so that nothing 
 was to be got out of them. Cunningham made 
 use of some strong language for his private satis- 
 faction. He looked at his watch. It was twen- 
 ty-five minutes after nine, and they would have 
 been at the station if the break-down had not 
 occurred. He went quickly back to the cab. 
 
 "Miss Ronald," he said, " the horse has fallen 
 down and broken the shaft. There isn't an- 
 other cab in sight, and we mustn't waste any 
 time getting away, or the police may detain us 
 to tell what we know of the accident. I don't 
 see anything to do but to run for it," he added, 
 with a frantic attempt to speak cheerfully. 
 
 The girl got quickly out of the cab. " This 
 is terrible, Mr. Cunningham," she gasped. " We 
 must catch that nine-thirty train. The College 
 is locked at ten o'clock, and I am obliged to be 
 there by that time." 
 
 Cunningham grabbed her hand firmly in his. 
 " Now run ! " he said. There were a great 
 many people who stopped to look at the two 
 figures tearing down Washington Street, and 
 they particularly enlisted the sympathetic at- 
 tention of a great many small boys along the 
 way. One policeman, thinking it was a case of 
 
 278
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 abduction, started after them but gave up the 
 chase before long, having never gone in much 
 for sprinting, and it being an unusually warm 
 night in May. It was indeed a rather uncom- 
 mon sight. The girl's clothes and correct air 
 made her particularly noticeable, while Cunning- 
 ham in a silk hat, Bond Street coat, and patent 
 leathers, was a conspicuous object as he swung 
 lightly down the street under the lamps and 
 electric lights. 
 
 When they turned into Kneeland Street, the 
 girl's courage and strength failed her. Knee- 
 land Street itself is a disgrace to Boston. It is 
 not by any means the street a young man would 
 choose to walk on with a young lady in the even- 
 ing indeed it is not the street one would choose 
 to walk on in broad daylight with a policeman in 
 hailing distance. Cunningham could have cursed 
 himself for the whole thing. He drew the girl 
 closer to him and walked swiftly on. When 
 they got in sight of the station he glanced fear- 
 fully at the big clock. It stood at exactly half 
 after nine, but he comforted himself with the 
 thought that the outside clock is always fast, 
 though he was not sure just how much. 
 
 " Can you run any more ? " he asked anxiously 
 of the girl. For answer she started ahead fever- 
 ishly. 
 
 279
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 The man was locking the gate. " Can't open 
 it train just pulled out." Cunningham looked 
 viciously at the official. 
 
 " Can't you whistle her back ? " he demanded, 
 furiously. The man smiled derisively, and com- 
 menced talking to a trainman who sauntered up 
 just then with an oil-can and hammer in his hand. 
 Cunningham went back to where Miss Ronald 
 was standing. The girl burst out laughing some- 
 what hysterically. 
 
 ""We need a chaperon badly, Mr. Cunning- 
 ham," she said, nervously. "We don't seem 
 able to take care of ourselves at all." 
 
 "Yes," assented Cunningham, gloomily. "It 
 seems easy enough in the abstract to catch a 
 train, but some way we don't seem to understand 
 quite how it's done," he added, ironically. "I 
 will go and find out when the next train leaves, 
 and may be if we are careful and start for it an 
 hour before time, and if the station doesn't burn 
 up, or all the cab horses fall down dead, or the 
 trains stop running, we may be able to make it." 
 
 Cunningham walked up to the ticket-agent. 
 "When is the next train out?" he demanded, 
 sternly. 
 
 The man glanced up impatiently from a cal- 
 culation he was making and said, shortly 
 "11.10." 
 
 280
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 Cunningham strolled back to the girl. " It is 
 obviously impossible to wait here an hour and 
 forty minutes," he said. " Suppose we go back 
 to the theatre and see the last act. We've only 
 missed one act at most, and the last is the pret- 
 tiest of all." 
 
 Miss Ronald was too miserable to object or 
 make any suggestions, so they got into a cab 
 and Cunningham gave minute instructions to the 
 driver not to fall off the box and kill himself, or 
 let the horse walk out of the harness, and to be 
 particularly careful about the wheels coming off, 
 and not to try to demolish any ice-wagons that 
 might be harmlessly roving the streets. The 
 driver took these remarks good-humoredly, but 
 was naturally much mystified, and after think- 
 ing it over concluded that Cunningham was 
 either very drunk or very crazy. 
 
 They got back to the theatre in a short time 
 and saw the success of " The Rivals," and the 
 duel and the just exposure of the infamous Mat- 
 thews, and wished heartily that their affairs were 
 as happily wound up as those of the fair Miss 
 Linley and Sheridan. 
 
 It was just ten minutes of eleven when they 
 started back for the Boston and Albany station. 
 Cunningham had retained the cab they had como 
 in and had given still further and more minute 
 
 281
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 directions to the driver, so that as they settled 
 themselves back on the stuffy cushions, they 
 thought they could reasonably hope to get the 
 train in time and safety. When they entered 
 the waiting-room Miss Ronald saw with a sigh 
 of relief that it was just eleven o'clock. There 
 was plenty of time, and it was with a somewhat 
 triumphant air of having conquered immense 
 difficulties, of having fought bravely a hard 
 fight, that Cunningham walked up once more to 
 the ticket-office. 
 
 "Two tickets, please," he said briskly as he 
 handed out a dollar bill. The man looked at 
 him for a moment as if making an effort to re- 
 member where he had seen him before. 
 
 "This is the through express to New York. 
 You'll need more stuff than that to get two 
 tickets," he said, jocosely. 
 
 " You told me " gasped Cunningham. 
 
 "Yes," asserted the man. "You asked me 
 when the next train went out and I told you. Of 
 course 1 thought you knew where you wore 
 going," he added, derisively. 
 
 Cunningham began to feel very desperate in- 
 deed. 
 
 "Well," said he, slowly and carefully. "If 
 there is a train that leaves any time to-night for 
 Wellesley, break the news to me gently, and
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 then come and put me on it half an hour before 
 it starts, and tie my ticket to my coat, and put 
 me in charge of the conductor. Otherwise " 
 he went on impressively, "I may get lost, or 
 wreck the train, or stop the locomotive." 
 
 Then he went back to Miss Ronald and told 
 her the news. She had had a very pronounced 
 liking for Mr. Perry Cunningham up to that 
 time, but it occurred to her that he seemed ter- 
 ribly lacking in practicality, and that she was 
 very much disappointed in him. She decided 
 firmly what her answer would be to him if ever 
 he should propose though it is but fair to state 
 that Mr. Cunningham had no thought of propos- 
 ing, unless it was proposing how best to get 
 back to College. 
 
 At 11.25 the last accommodation train pulled 
 out with a very miserable young woman and a 
 very remorseful young man on it. 
 
 At exactly 12.9 it left them standing on the 
 platform of a pretty station, with not a cab to 
 be seen, wondering how they could get up to 
 " the College." Miss Ronald said she thought 
 they had better walk, by all means ; that they 
 had not had any excitement or fatigue all evening, 
 and that a mile walk at midnight would be just 
 the thing for them ; that they might run part 
 of the way if they found walking too slow, and 
 
 283
 
 Time and. Tide 
 
 that she often went out and ran around a while 
 in the middle of the night just for the fun of the 
 thing. (Miss Ronald was getting sarcastic 
 misfortune had embittered her naturally sweet 
 disposition.) 
 
 Mr. Cunningham said hotly that he understood 
 what she meant, and that no one could possibly be 
 more sorry about the whole thing than himself, 
 and that if necessary he would come over in 
 person the next day and explain it to the Presi- 
 dent herself. But Miss Ronald said haughtily 
 that, owing to the telegram they had sent, every- 
 one probably thought her safe at the College, 
 and that there would be no need of explana- 
 tions. If any were to be made she preferred to 
 make them herself. 
 
 After that they walked swiftly and quietly 
 up the long shaded paths. The fresh, earthy 
 smell of the sward and early spring flowers, 
 and the cry of the night birds, and the big 
 College buildings standing out every now and 
 then sharply defined in the moonlight, or 
 shadowed by the great trees, with here and there 
 a solitary light shining at some professor's win- 
 dow, made it a very beautiful and impressive 
 scene. But Miss Ronald was too unhappy to 
 think much about it and walked haughtily and si- 
 lently on, and Cunningham could not enjoy it for 
 
 384
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 the remorse he felt and the knowledge that Miss 
 Ronald however, unreasonably was angry 
 with him. Besides, he was wondering what on 
 earth was to become of him for the rest of the 
 night. It was three miles to the nearest hotel, 
 he thought gloomily, and he would have to take 
 the first train into Boston in order to get over 
 to Cambridge in time for a lecture which he did 
 not wish to miss. 
 
 Miss Clara Arnold awoke very suddenly and 
 very thoroughly. Her heart gave an awful 
 bound and then stood quite still in a most un- 
 comfortable sort of way. There was no doubt 
 about it there were people on the piazza just 
 outside her room and they were talking in low 
 but excited tones. All the horror of her situa- 
 tion came upon her, and in one instant she 
 wished more fervently than she ever thought 
 she could wish for anything, that she had taken 
 her friends' advice and had not decided on a 
 room on the ground floor opening on a piazza. 
 All their warnings and talk of burglars and 
 tramps came vividly to her as she lay there 
 quaking with fear. She could hear quite dis- 
 tinctly the tread of feet outside, and the gentle 
 but firm shaking of the big doors that opened 
 from the broad corridor on the piazza. A sick- 
 
 285
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 ening sense of fear possessed her and a suffocat- 
 ing pressure was on her lungs. She wondered 
 with all her soul where the night-watchman was, 
 and whether she had better scream or lie quite 
 still. She was trying to decide this when she 
 thought she heard her name called. She sat up, 
 listening intently. And then she heard quite 
 distinctly a girl's voice saying, hopelessly : 
 
 " It's no use you can't get that door open 
 and I can't make Clara hear ! " 
 
 Miss Arnold gave a gasp and then jumped out 
 of bed and into a tea-gown and Turkish slippers. 
 She went quickly into her study and called soft- 
 ly to the girl outside. 
 
 " Elise, is that you ? Just wait a minute ! " 
 and then there was more muffled talk outside 
 and a man's voice in a relieved way saying : 
 
 " Oh, it's all right now how glad I am ! I I 
 wish I could begin to tell you, Miss Ronald, 
 how awfully cut up I am about it " but the girl 
 stopped him. 
 
 "I quite understand, Mr. Cunningham," she 
 said, stiffly. "You had better go now. I am 
 sony there is no hotel nearer." And then Miss 
 Arnold heard a muttered good-night and the 
 crunch of footsteps on the gravel, and as she 
 opened the doors a moment later Miss Eonald 
 fell limply into her arms.
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 They sat up and talked it all over for an hour, 
 and Miss Ronald said she was intensely disap- 
 pointed in Perry Cunningham, and that she could 
 never, never forgive him. Miss Arnold con- 
 tended that she did not quite see what there was 
 to forgive ; it had all been unfortunate, and she 
 thought that Mr. Cunningham had done all he 
 could that he hadn't kept the train from stop- 
 ping at Allston, nor did he make the cab inn into 
 the ice- wagon, nor could he compel the New York 
 express to stop for them, and that if he forgot 
 to look at his watch at the Thorndyke why, she 
 did so too. And she told Miss Ronald frankly 
 that she might have been more civil to him, 
 considering that he had had all the trouble on 
 her account and was now walking three miles in 
 order to get a place in which to sleep for three 
 hours. And she added that she thought if any- 
 one was to be angry about the affair it was her- 
 self, since she had taken Miss Ronald for a bur- 
 glar and had been frightened nearly to death. 
 And finally Miss Ronald grew rather remorse- 
 ful at the thought of how she had sent the boy 
 off, and of how truly considerate he had been 
 through the whole affair, and of what good 
 friends they had once been, and she went to 
 sleep with the good resolution to write him a 
 very nice note the next day. And on the follow- 
 
 287
 
 Time and Tide 
 
 ing morning, when an immense box of roses came 
 with Mr. Perry Cunningham's card tucked hum- 
 bly in one corner and almost out of sight, Miss 
 Ronald restored him to full f avor and wrote him 
 a charming letter inviting him out for the next 
 week to Float-Day. 
 
 288
 
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