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 THE PETRIE ESTATE 
 
 BY 
 
 HELEN DAWES BROWN 
 
 AUTHOR OF "TWO COLLEGE GIRLS " 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 1893
 
 Copyright, 1893, 
 BY HELEN DAWES BROWN. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Rlrmridf Prf.tt, Cnmftrirlrjf, Mas*., T?. ft. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company.
 
 .STACK ANHEX 
 
 P6 
 1139 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. CHARLOTTE 1 
 
 II. THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES PETKIE . . 13 
 
 III. THE HATHAWAYS 24 
 
 IV. CHARLOTTE IN NE\V YORK .... 38 
 V. 25 VAN HATTEN PARK 53 
 
 VI. "WHAT TO Do ? " 67 
 
 VII. A RAINY AFTERNOON 80 
 
 VIII. AT MRS. APPLEBY S 92 
 
 IX. ONE OF CHARLOTTE S INTERRUPTIONS . . 109 
 
 X. KEYSER STREET 119 
 
 XI. WHIST 131 
 
 XII. IN WHICH NOTHING HAPPENS . . . 146 
 
 XIII. AN INTERVIEW 162 
 
 XIV. REVERIE 179 
 
 XV. ON FURTHER ACQUAINTANCE .... 191 
 
 XVI. ANOTHER DISCOVERY 205 
 
 XVII. "HE LOVES ME. HE LOVES ME NOT " .216 
 XVIIL THE KALEIDOSCOPE TURNS .... 228 
 
 XIX. A SHOPPING EXPEDITION 233 
 
 XX. NEXT MORNING 246 
 
 XXI. AT WARING S DESK 255 
 
 XXII. FROM MRS. BISBEE TO AUNT CORNELIA . 263 
 XXIII. THROUGH ANOTHER DAY . 271
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 XXIV. THE WILL is FORGOTTEN .... 28-1 
 
 XXV. "!N THE MIDST OF LIFE" . . . .294 
 
 XXVI. IN NEW YOKK AGAIN 301 
 
 XXVII. THE WINGED VICTORY OF SAMOTHRACE . 313
 
 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CHARLOTTE. 
 
 LIGHTS had been out for an hour in High Hill 
 Seminary. The principal had long since retired 
 from the duties of the day. That excellent lady 
 had, indeed, relinquished one care after another 
 to her able assistant, until she herself did scarcely 
 more than ask a blessing at meals, and conduct 
 prayers. The annual circular, it is true, was 
 composed by the pen of the principal. This 
 document was a mingling of scenery, piety, cost 
 and dimensions of buildings, ideals of woman 
 hood, and delicately hinted social advantages, 
 all set forth in flowery English of the old school. 
 Among Miss Trowbridge s toppling sentences, 
 with their pretty adjectives and pronouns of 
 doubtful antecedents, one, after all, made out a 
 very comfortable and creditable education for a 
 young girl up to the age of eighteen. Miss Trow- 
 bridge reserved for herself one more function.
 
 2 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 Her assistant, Charlotte Coverdale, was wont to 
 sit with outward composure and inward restive- 
 ness under the principal s little addresses which 
 often followed evening prayers. These were 
 of the literary quality of the circular, and were 
 an expansion of the same topics. Miss Trow 
 bridge was an artless egotist, who based her ex 
 hortations upon her own example. This was not, 
 however, especially to the disadvantage of the 
 girls who looked up into her face. Few of them 
 had yet the experience or the humor to judge 
 character. So Charlotte Coverdale reminded 
 herself as she sat and watched the sweet, serious 
 faces while Miss Trowbridge related anecdotes 
 of her own instructive youth. The wit of the 
 Literature Class did indeed whisper to her neigh 
 bor, " Intimations of Immortality from Recol 
 lections of Early Childhood ! " 
 
 The old lady read and dozed her time away 
 in the intervals of these labors, while Charlotte 
 Coverdale gently usurped her duties, and gave 
 the old school new efficiency and self-respect. 
 Miss Coverdale and the principal differed at 
 many points ; as, for example, in the matter of 
 the teacher s life. Miss Trowbridge held the as 
 cetic, conventual ideal. " A devoted teacher " she 
 had been this very evening describing to Char 
 lotte. " She has been with us over twenty years. 
 She has no thought but of the Seminary ; her
 
 CHARLOTTE. 3 
 
 heart is wholly in her work. She is never so 
 happy as when she is at her post. And I know 
 of no one more faithful to the ideals of the Sem 
 inary," continued Miss Trowbridge, in the sweet, 
 rotund voice in which she addressed her pupils. 
 The word " ideals " so pronounced had often had 
 its good effect upon a trustful girl of sixteen. 
 It had a very bad effect upon Charlotte, who 
 listened now. 
 
 " More faithful, Miss Coverdale, to the ideals 
 of the Seminary," with the musical swell re 
 peated. " In the simplicity of her attire, in the 
 plainness of her surroundings, in the utter ab 
 sence of self-seeking, Miss Bowdoin sets before 
 our young gyurls the loftiest standard of plain 
 living and high thinking, as Emerson has said," 
 added Miss Trowbridge, with complacent confi 
 dence in her misquotation as, often, in her serene 
 mispronunciations. 
 
 Charlotte sat miserable under this perversion 
 of the truth, in which she saw her own best be 
 liefs grotesque and distorted. 
 
 " Which brings me to speak of a matter that 
 you can help me to set right, I am sure," Miss 
 Trowbridge continued, in her soft official voice. 
 " Miss Bowdoin herself has called my attention 
 to it. It is the matter of after-dinner coffee, 
 Miss Coverdale, after-dinner coffee for the 
 teachers on the Sabbath. It has been an iiino-
 
 4 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 ration, as you are aware, and an innovation, I 
 fear, not with the Lest results." 
 
 Charlotte looked a little startled. 
 
 " In the first place, you know that it is a 
 matter of principle with me that the teachers 
 should share in all respects the life of the pu 
 pils." 
 
 Charlotte said gently, " That, Miss Trow- 
 bridge, is a point on which I cannot agree with 
 you. For the pupil s own sake I think the teach 
 er s life should be different at many points." 
 
 " I know your views," said Miss TrowLridge, 
 with perfect courtesy and toleration. " But 
 High Hill Seminary has established a principle 
 which cannot well be set aside. We have had 
 many innovations since you came among us, 
 Miss Coverdale ; of that you are aware, no 
 doubt." 
 
 Charlotte Coverdale replied with the very 
 smile by which she had carried through many of 
 the innovations. 
 
 " And I feel that we have another to deal with 
 in this matter that has recently come up, this 
 affair of the coffee. Now after-dinner coffee is 
 not a thing that we allow our gyurls to have ; 
 only coffee at breakfast, and not too strong, 
 Miss Coverdale." 
 
 Miss Trowbridgc looked impressively at Char 
 lotte for her assent.
 
 CHARLOTTE. 5 
 
 " And why the teachers should desire it at 
 dinner, and why coffee should be chosen to mark 
 the Sabbath, I confess I fail to see. Can you 
 enlighten me, Miss Coverdale ? " 
 
 Frivolous seriousness about trifles angered 
 Charlotte. She answered lightly, but, it seems, 
 to Miss Trowbridge s satisfaction. 
 
 " I thought you would agree with me. More 
 over, I have observed that coffee has appears 
 to have an effect. It appears to conduce to 
 what I may call hilarity. I heard laughter 
 from the teachers room last Sunday. Miss 
 Bowdoin and I observed that the teachers lin 
 gered for some time after the pupils left the 
 dining-room." Miss Trowbridge paused. 
 
 " There was some very good talk at our table, 
 Miss Trowbridge." 
 
 " No doubt, and yet you must agree with me 
 that from every point of view this is not in the 
 spirit of the Seminary, not in the spirit in which 
 it was founded. Now if it were tea, it might be 
 somewhat different." 
 
 " Tea is quite as exhilarating, do you not think 
 so, Miss Trowbridge ? " 
 
 "But then, you know, Miss Coverdale, tea 
 does not smell so far ! " 
 
 Miss Trowbridge dropped her voice secretively, 
 and Charlotte marveled at her morality. 
 
 " Therefore, in future, shall we not agree to
 
 6 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 substitute tea, the cup that cheers but not 
 inebriates, Miss Coverdale?" Miss T row- 
 bridge paused as usual, for her quotation to take 
 effect. 
 
 Charlotte made her escape politely, and retired 
 to her room in wrath. Even then she was half 
 aware that her anger was out of proportion, and 
 that she, too, was frivolous, in taking Miss Trow- 
 bridge so seriously. Once outside of High Hill 
 Seminary, Charlotte would have found her a di 
 verting character, whose existence could be read 
 ily pardoned in consideration of the entertain 
 ment she afforded. It was in fact a bad state 
 of nerves, the fatigue of ten years teaching, that 
 caused Charlotte to view Miss Trowbridge s in 
 fluence upon the Seminary as so disastrous. 
 The truth was, that the principal of High Hill 
 Seminary did no great harm ; while Charlotte s 
 own influence, always underrated by herself, was 
 the positive working force of the institution. 
 Nor was Miss Trowbridge s repression of the 
 teachers so unfortunate as might be supposed. 
 Two or three of Miss Bowdoin s type survived 
 Charlotte Coverdale s reforms, but the nineteenth 
 century was now far advanced, and the ascetic 
 ideal was fading out. Charlotte had assembled 
 a number of healthy, enthusiastic young women, 
 of sound education, and she had made it her 
 highest effort to secure to them a well-rounded
 
 CHARLOTTE. 7 
 
 personal life, as the basis of their professional 
 career. This had been her " original work " as 
 a teacher. She had not distinguished herself 
 in the field of scholarship ; her thought and re 
 search had gone to the study of the teacher s 
 life. Charlotte knew as yet nothing of a move 
 ment on foot among the trustees of the Seminary, 
 who proposed to bestow a graceful pension upon 
 Miss Trowbridge and to vest the power of prin 
 cipal in Miss Coverdale. Kind words were 
 spoken of her by these excellent gentlemen ; all 
 about her was love and appreciation, but so late 
 and so weary was this night that her faith in 
 herself was gone. Her conversation with Miss 
 Trowbridge was all that remained of the day. 
 She could extract no amusement from it. She 
 felt cramped, thwarted, and heart-sick. Her 
 ambition for the teacher s life seemed to have 
 no fulfillment in her own. She clearly did not 
 practice what she preached. How watchfully 
 she guarded a newly arrived young teacher, lest 
 the Seminary walls should close about her, 
 and here she sat herself, immured. She could 
 guard other teachers from Miss Trowbridge s 
 petty tyranny, but she could not protect herself. 
 Charlotte felt every relation of her life imper 
 fect and unnatural. Her parents had died in 
 her childhood ; she had no brothers and sisters. 
 As for her teacher s life, she thought of a viva-
 
 8 THE PETE IE ESTATE. 
 
 cious friend of hers. Rebecca had said, "I 
 should like to see you in the real world, out of 
 this artificial life, for good and all ! Of all hypo 
 crites teachers are the worst. How I used to hate 
 that amiability and enthusiasm that I had to put 
 on and take off every day. You shake your 
 head. That shows how far gone in hypocrisy 
 you are, if you can even keep it up with me. 
 But you are romantic about teaching. Oh, yes, 
 you are as romantic as ever. How you have kept 
 your complexion and your imagination is more 
 than I can understand. Think, it s ten years 
 since we were in college together. You have even 
 been romantic about your education. I am not. 
 I owe my education a grudge. If it were not 
 for that, I might have been a comfortable wo 
 man, without the torment of all these problems. 
 I m a child o the time a mistake o the time, 
 I often think ; there are so many women of 
 that sort now ; mistakes that have to be made, 
 I suppose, before we get to the right thing." 
 
 Charlotte took up a letter from Rebecca, 
 which the evening mail had brought. Her 
 friend was in San Francisco, and, as the letter 
 revealed, in San Francisco she was to spend 
 her life. She had abandoned teaching for jour 
 nalism, and had now abandoned journalism for 
 marriage. Charlotte sat brooding over the let 
 ter. Unselfish woman though she was, it was
 
 CHARLOTTE. 9 
 
 her own life that came uppermost as she read 
 her friend s confidences. She took from her 
 desk a faded daguerreotype case, bearing the 
 date of her mother s marriage. It contained 
 two pictures. Charlotte studied her young mo 
 ther s face, the full, sensitive lips, the tender, 
 expectant eyes. A speaking likeness, they had 
 called it ; and many a time had Charlotte, when 
 the living had failed her, found response in the 
 face of her mother. The daughter was an older 
 woman now than the young Mary Coverdale, 
 and she gazed at the picture with a comprehend 
 ing, almost maternal tenderness. An old grief 
 uttered its moan again. Charlotte could remem 
 ber of her mother only a bending face with love 
 in it, not a feature, not a word remained to 
 her. Perversely enough, she had a distinct rec 
 ollection of the little gold pin at her mother s 
 throat. It was touched with gilt in the daguer 
 reotype, and was the freshest part of the pic 
 ture also. It was this little twist of gold that, 
 by some freak of the heart, brought the tears to 
 her eyes now. 
 
 Opposite was the face of Charlotte s father, 
 a face that added years would have made dis 
 tinguished and commanding. The loss to the 
 world, and the loss to her ! she reflected. It 
 could only be put away among the mysteries of 
 fate. When an excellent old woman had one
 
 10 THE PETE IE ESTATE. 
 
 time tried to explain, on behalf of Providence, 
 the death of Charlotte s parents, the girl had 
 turned upon her solemnly and sharply. As she 
 grew to mature thought, her utmost exercise of 
 faith was the patience to wait for knowledge. 
 She was on the whole a happy woman, yet there 
 were times when she went into retreat with her 
 old sorrows. She did not avoid or regret these 
 seasons of bereavement. They kept her related 
 to her father and mother, she said, when Re 
 becca remonstrated. 
 
 As Charlotte held in her hand the double 
 daguerreotype, she looked at her mirror. She 
 gazed searchingly into her own eyes, and found 
 there the light of her mother s. She glanced at 
 her father s face, and then looked again into 
 her own. Her dark hair rolled back from a 
 brow of singular power and beauty. The soft 
 eyes of Mary Coverdale had a moment ago 
 looked from her daughter s ; now Charlotte met 
 in her own face the look of her dead father. 
 A little above the common height she stood, 
 the lines of her figure gracious and noble. Yet, 
 if she looked fascinated into her mirror, it was 
 not her beauty that held her. The mystery of 
 earthly immortality laid its spell upon her. 
 " They are not dead ; they live in me ; I will 
 live out their life for them." So her thoughts 
 ran, till they brought her back to the very point
 
 CHARLOTTE. 11 
 
 from which she had set out : the yearning for a 
 wider life. She often questioned her own lot 
 anxiously. She was good and she was happy in 
 the eyes of every one ; but there was an arti 
 ficial serenity about her very goodness and hap 
 piness. She doubted their quality ; she won 
 dered if she had met the natural trials and 
 temptations. She breathed the adulation of 
 two hundred schoolgirls, sweet and stifling in 
 cense. She dreaded its effect upon her charac 
 ter. 
 
 " I need a complete change of relations. I 
 need to look up and not down." So she had 
 said to Rebecca, and Rebecca had agreed, with 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 " How often we have been over it all ! " 
 Charlotte had sighed in conclusion. " I love 
 my girls, and I love my work, and by it I must 
 live. It is as well that necessity settles it for 
 me." 
 
 Charlotte Coverdale laid down the portraits 
 of her father and mother, and took up a news 
 paper. It was in the direct line of her thought 
 that she turned to the editorial pages of the 
 u Citizen," which took her into the mid-stream 
 of American life. She had established an inti 
 macy with these columns, and was usually in 
 cordial sympathy with them. One vigorous pen 
 she learned to recognize in criticisms from time
 
 12 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 to time of the progress of American civiliza 
 tion. With all its radicalism, she knew no 
 other paper so jealously conservative of the 
 world s experience. This liberal conservatism 
 answered to her own character, and the fresh 
 New York paper, traveling its two hundred 
 miles daily to reach her, supplied to her clois 
 tered life contact with the world and the stimu 
 lus of men s minds. 
 
 To-night Charlotte had not read far when, in 
 another corner of the paper, she caught sight 
 of her mother s family name, an uncommon 
 name, standing out in firm, black type among 
 the death notices. She read, " Petrie. Died in 
 New York, May 17, James Petrie, for forty 
 years a resident of London." 
 
 James Petrie was her mother s cousin, whom 
 she herself had never known or even seen. She 
 thought a moment of the lonely end of the old 
 man, then continued her reading.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES PETKIE. 
 
 IT was the lovely afternoon of the seven 
 teenth of May. In the yard of the hospital the 
 soft breeze stirred in the trees, and the sunlight 
 filtered through the leaves and lay shifting and 
 flickering on the grass. It was one of the 
 gentle, young days by which a new summer is 
 brought in, and which make it easy to apply to 
 the ancient earth every metaphor of youth and 
 hope. Outside the hospital gates, there rolled 
 gay carriages, with occupants in fresh, spring 
 toilettes, smiling to one another in congratula 
 tion upon the matchless beauty of a New York 
 May day. The walks upon the avenue were 
 gay as the stream of carriages. Beauty and 
 fashion on foot makes a phenomenon striking to 
 the eye of a foreigner, who, nevertheless, feels 
 in it the charm of an American city. Under 
 the high garden wall of the hospital, the tide 
 was at its highest, a tide as constant and 
 punctual as the ebb and flow of the ocean. 
 Men might come and men might go, but the 
 afternoon crowd upon the avenue went on, im-
 
 14 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 mortal. The gray walls and the people passing 
 had the sense of mutual permanence that made 
 them altogether thoughtless of each other. The 
 life outside seldom penetrated to the life beyond 
 the vine-covered gateway ; to the life within, it 
 was but the undertone of the receding world. 
 To the sick and dying the murmur of the street 
 was only a symbol and abstraction. To Rich 
 ard Waring, also, as he hurried to the hospital 
 on his grave errand, the crowd on the street lost 
 reality, and became mere confusion to eye and 
 ear ; save for one moment, when, about to 
 turn into the quiet side street, he encountered 
 Grace Hathaway and her companion. The 
 girl s eye lighted with pleasure as she bowed 
 to him, and a half dozen pretty looks went in 
 and out upon her face before it settled again. 
 Waring lifted his hat, but his face lost none 
 of its grave preoccupation. 
 
 " Papa s friend, Mr. Waring," Grace ex 
 plained. " He is on the Citizen ; he is one 
 of the editors." 
 
 " Is he always as solemn as that ? " her com 
 panion inquired. 
 
 " He is fascinating," Grace confided, in a 
 lower tone. 
 
 " He is very good-looking," said the young 
 lady of seventeen, judicially ; u though I pre 
 fer dark men, myself." Richard Waring was
 
 THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES PETEIE. 15 
 
 of the pure Saxon type, as modified by two cen 
 turies in America. 
 
 The apparition of the pretty Grace was a 
 " trivial fond record," quickly effaced by War 
 ing. He entered the hospital and made his way 
 to a private room, with perfect right and famil 
 iarity. 
 
 " Give us a little more light, can t you, Mrs. 
 Jenkins ? " 
 
 The nurse raised the shade. The window 
 looked out into a great tree, with the breeze 
 from the bay rustling its leaves. Birds were 
 twittering in its boughs. Back of these gentle 
 sounds hung the great curtain of dull noise, 
 the life of the city. The room was airy and 
 comfortable, fitted up with all the ingenuities of 
 modern nursing. Perfect scientific care was 
 evident in every detail. The admirable nurse 
 in attendance was a quiet, efficient woman, who 
 spoke seldom and then to the point, and obeyed 
 orders with machine-like precision. The cool, 
 safe accuracy of this sick-room represented all 
 the love and tenderness that money could buy. 
 One thing only modern nursing has failed to 
 supply : the wealth of James Petrie could not 
 at this final hour give him home and kindred ; 
 dear, familiar walls and loved faces. Here was 
 no love, no grief ; clean, bare walls, a competent 
 nurse, and the odor of disinfectants.
 
 16 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 So thought Waring, with love and grief, how 
 ever, in his own face as he came near the bed 
 side of his old friend. 
 
 " He ain t going to know yon, sir, to-night," 
 said the nurse. 
 
 A shrunken old man lay on the bed. His 
 face was pinched and narrow ; his thin hair was 
 tossed upon the pillow. A touching hand lay 
 outside the sheet, that a man s right hand 
 should come to this ! It lay like a sleeping 
 child s, half open, as if to receive something. 
 The slow heavy breathing was all of life that 
 had not departed. 
 
 Waring stood long with bent head, in solemn 
 thought. The change in his old friend was no 
 shock to him ; he had stood by his bedside day 
 by day through a long illness. 
 
 " It s a whim of mine, Dick," the old man 
 had said when he landed three months before ; 
 " it s a fancy of mine to come home to die. I 
 wanted to die an American, and lay my bones 
 in American soil. It was la patrie, a pure sen 
 timent, a pure abstraction, that brought me 
 home. I am an utter stranger. Kith and kin 
 I have none, a distant cousin or two, perhaps, 
 though our race has about died out. Pity ! It 
 ended in some incomparable old maids, New 
 England cousins of mine, all dead. There 
 was one of the other branch that married, I
 
 THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES PETEIE. 17 
 
 believe, into a good family, the Coverdales, but 
 if there are any of the next generation, they 
 never heard my name. I am a stranger, but, 
 thank God, I m not a man without a country." 
 Suddenly, in a different tone, he said, " I 
 came home, too, because I wanted a last look at 
 you, my boy." After the shrewd pause with 
 which the old banker was wont to preface an 
 important remark, he continued. " I wanted to 
 look you over, my lad," he said, with a search 
 ing eye. " Thirty thirty-five or there 
 abouts, is n t it ? Well, I wanted to see if ten 
 years had made you or marred you. I wanted 
 to see if you were the same lad I used to have 
 such a fondness for. I rather think you are," 
 said the old gentleman, with a smile that Rich 
 ard liked to remember. " I believe it s safe to 
 trust you," with another smile, which months 
 after Waring recalled, as he studied his own 
 situation. "Your father was one of the best 
 men in our house. I owed it to him to look 
 after his little boy, all the more, that your 
 mother married again so soon. Your mother 
 lives in Florence still, I think you said. She 
 has stayed too long in that land of the lotus-eat 
 ers. There s no place that will expatriate you 
 more surely than Florence. I am glad you 
 belong in New York. If it can t be London or 
 Paris, then New York. And a native Ameri-
 
 18 THE rETRlE ESTATE. 
 
 can has 110 business with London or Paris ; he 
 misses the great opportunity if he misses his 
 share in American progress. How do things 
 over here look to you, now you are a man grown, 
 Richard?" 
 
 Richard, appealed to thus formally, had given 
 his views with some care. His older friend had 
 looked at him with watchful measurement. He 
 had listened with the catlike attention with 
 which an old college professor listens to a boy 
 reciting under examination, and, like the college 
 professor, Mr. Petrie had turned, as it were, to 
 a mental record and entered a mark against 
 Richard Waring s name. 
 
 "I am inclined to think you are wrong, sir." 
 James Petrie s sir was his extreme of severity, 
 as Richard in his teens had known. " I am 
 inclined to think you are also quite wrong about 
 yourself. You will live to change your mind. 
 You say you have made no success of life, that 
 there is no place in this country for men like 
 you. It s unmanly, sir. Sit down, my boy, 
 sit down. Look at me. I expect no prom 
 ises, mind. But I say to you now that it is my 
 earnest desire for you that well, whatever 
 turn your life may take, you will remain an 
 American on American ground. Hark, now ! 
 Don t sell your birthright. You understand 
 that that is my wish. What do you say to it ? "
 
 THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES PETEIE. 19 
 
 Waring said nothing beyond an expression of 
 respect for his old friend. He felt like a manly 
 schoolboy, whose dignity has been wounded: 
 He was not to be coerced into promises, espe 
 cially with the bribe of a fortune. To his old 
 friend eying him, he looked simply sulky. The 
 good man was hurt and angry. 
 
 " I want my money spent in America, in plain 
 terms. What do you say to that, sir ? " 
 
 Waring was stung by the threat implied. He 
 forced himself to answer gently and carefully. 
 In substance, he refused to make any promises 
 as to his future. He pained himself and his old 
 friend, and neither touched the subject again. 
 This had been the one incident to mar the ten 
 derness of their intercourse for three months. 
 Richard afterwards reproached himself for not 
 indulging more gently what was plainly the con 
 trolling idea of James Petrie s last days. 
 
 " Draw your moral from me," the old man 
 would say. "A plain duty forty years ago di 
 rected me to take my father s place in our Lon 
 don banking-house. Twenty years later I might 
 have come home. But it was too late. I loved 
 my London by that time. You see me now 
 without home or kindred, a man with five 
 hundred acquaintances, and two, perhaps three 
 friends. I have been neither American nor 
 Englishman. I have, counted for nothing. I
 
 20 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 have no ties. I have strengthened no bonds. I 
 am no loss." 
 
 " That you cannot say, sir," Waring an 
 swered. 
 
 " You will see when I come to die." 
 
 And now he had come to die. Waring sat 
 down by the bedside, and took the feeble hand 
 in his. He looked to see some transfusion of 
 his own vigor into the life ebbing back to eter 
 nity. But no sign of his presence was given. 
 The separation had taken place already, the 
 parting of which they had spoken with the so 
 lemnity and courage of manly men. The last 
 months had brought them together again into 
 the old intimacy. James Petrie had talked 
 much of his own life and of the conclusions 
 that he now drew from it. It seemed his desire 
 to leave to Waring a legacy of experience, that 
 Waring might repeat his successes and avoid 
 his mistakes. 
 
 " Ah, that s a thing you must do some day, 
 Dick," and his fading eye would kindle. Or it 
 was, " Richard, I charge you, don t make the 
 mistake I did." One day he spoke with energy. 
 " Dick, why are n t you looking about you for a 
 wife ? It s high time, my lad. Look at me. 
 You would n t be like me, not when the last 
 years come, not when the last days come. 
 Lose no time ; within a year, now I "
 
 THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES PETEIE. 21 
 
 The strength of his old friend s affection was 
 evident to Richard not so much through lavish 
 expression, as by this entering into the younger 
 man s life and by the transferring of his own 
 interests one by one into the keeping of Waring. 
 It became plain to Richard that he was to in 
 herit a fortune. It was a familiar, happy con 
 sciousness which strengthened the tie between 
 the two men, one of whom was making over his 
 life to the other. Yet no word passed between 
 them. Waring supposed that even the final 
 transfer of his property would be to this sanest 
 of business men a transaction accurate and 
 without jeopardy of sentiment. Undoubtedly 
 his affairs were pigeonholed by his lawyers, 
 and this reserve on his own part was the only 
 sentiment that entered into the matter. 
 
 As Richard sat now by the bedside and felt 
 the weak hand in his, he was shaken with filial 
 sorrow. His face grew paler and the lines 
 about his mouth were drawn tense and grim. 
 Such feeling must give way to the relief of 
 thought. Waring pondered. This experience, 
 for the time so personal, so isolated, became uni 
 versal, became Death. The theme widened, 
 then narrowed again : James Petrie s death, 
 Death, Richard Waring s death. So does all 
 great experience expand and contract. Waring 
 recalled distinctly a day in his thirtieth year
 
 22 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 when the one thing certain in his future was 
 revealed to him. The day of the knowledge of 
 Death was a milestone that marked his entrance 
 on the second stage of life. The thrilling con 
 viction had many times returned to him, yet 
 never to mar the present. It was necessary to 
 the mature conception of life, vital to the true 
 relation and perspective. 
 
 Waring tenderly turned in his hand the help 
 less fingers. That expressive right hand had 
 been so living a part of the man, animated as 
 his face, dramatic as his inflection ! Its grasp 
 had been vital with friendship ; the facile pen it 
 held had written the sound business letter, or 
 had replied to my lady s invitation with gallant 
 grace. This little, wan old man had been the 
 dinner-guest whose contribution could be abso 
 lutely relied upon ; whose repartees would bear 
 to be passed around next day. 
 
 Waring looked at his watch and saw that two 
 hours had passed. 
 
 " lie s breathing slower, sir," said the nurse. 
 
 The heavy, difficult breath came at slow, regu 
 lar intervals, seeming, indeed, as lifeless and 
 mechanical as if the soul had departed. Where 
 was the spirit in this interval of waiting? 
 Would the mystery of the other life be opened 
 in one blinding moment of revelation, or was the 
 secret stealing upon the soul already ? Was he 
 there, or here ?
 
 THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES PETEIE. 23 
 
 The doctor came in, and looked at his patient. 
 
 " He may last an hour two hours. Shall 
 you wait ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 As the sun went down, the breathing of James 
 Petrie grew slower and fainter. Waring felt 
 the distance increasing, and the outer brink of 
 life reached at last. He gave way to his sorrow, 
 and was younger than he had been for years. 
 His face had aged in the last hour, but he had 
 the heart of the boy, clinging to his old friend 
 and benefactor. 
 
 A little later, he walked away from the hos 
 pital. His task at his office ended, he took a 
 fresh sheet and wrote a short obituary notice of 
 James Petrie, as tender and filial as it was just 
 and penetrating. Waring had never done a 
 more exquisite bit of writing than this brief 
 character sketch. He read it over, and folded it 
 away among his private papers ; there was no 
 thing to record of James Petrie for the public. 
 He himself had judged aright ; and the column 
 of a newspaper was not the place for the display 
 of private affection. Waring wrote out a death 
 notice of grim simplicity, which was read the 
 next night by Charlotte Coverdale.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE HATHAWAYS. 
 
 THE house occupied by the Hathaways was 
 the New York brown stone house. The front 
 was narrow, and the stoop a trifle high, but the 
 effect was unexceptionably genteel. Mrs. Hath 
 away held firmly to her preference for a small 
 house numbered " 13 West " to a roomy house 
 numbered " 132 East." " There is everything 
 in neighborhood, I assure you," said she, with 
 her whole weight upon every syllable. As for 
 the interior of her home, she felt sure, whenever 
 she walked past her windows, that her lace cur 
 tains distinguished the house from others on the 
 street. These curtains, exquisite in texture and 
 design, had been the achievement of the past 
 year, as the extension dining-room had marked 
 the previous summer, the parlor fireplace the 
 year before that, and so on back to the begin 
 ning of her married and housekeeping life. 
 
 " It is always more or less of a struggle, but 
 when I set my mind on a thing, I generally carry 
 it through." 
 
 The long and narrow parlor, or drawing-room,
 
 THE HATHAWAYS. 25 
 
 as it now began to be called, again differed in 
 no particular from other parlors down the street. 
 The room was muffled and dim with heavy dra 
 peries, and bore no trace of habitation. In the 
 library, upon the floor above, the home life cen 
 tred. Here one must enter in order to know 
 the Hathaway family. The walls had the richest 
 covering walls can have : they were lined with 
 books as high as the arm could reach. 
 
 " Mr. Hathaway will buy books," his wife 
 would explain to the visitor, half in pride at so 
 expensive a taste in her husband, half in impa 
 tience at his folly. " He will buy books, though 
 he never has time to read them. Grace is the 
 only one that reads. I never want her for any 
 thing that I don t find her reading." Mrs. 
 Hathaway sighed as she continued, " Books are 
 a great care ; they gather dust so. Men don t 
 realize." Mrs. Hathaway concluded many sub 
 jects with this axiom of her married life. She 
 was a woman conscious of experience, which she 
 fancied she had converted into wisdom. " Men 
 don t realize," she said, with her overdone em 
 phasis, and one and another of her married 
 friends assented. 
 
 " I let my family run riot in this room," she 
 would continue ; although the room, like the 
 rest of her house, was in admirable order. 
 " Grace always leaves her fancy-work about,"
 
 26 THE rETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 Mrs. Hathaway further apologized. " This is a 
 sof a-pillow. Are n t the colors odd ? So new ! 
 But do you know how enormously those shades 
 cost ? " and she lowered her voice and looked at 
 her friend with solemn eyes. 
 
 " I let my family do anything- they like here. 
 I believe in making people comfortable, don t 
 you? I let Mr. Hathaway smoke here. I 
 think he s never so happy as when we are all 
 out of the way, and he and Dick Waring sit 
 here and smoke. I tell Mr. Hathaway when he 
 gets home from his business half the time he 
 does n t get home till after seven, and the dinner 
 waiting well, I tell him he is good for nothing 
 but that easy-chair. And he says so himself. 
 I have done long ago trying to drag him about 
 evenings. I leave him here quietly, and, if you 
 will believe it, I sometimes come home and find 
 that he has been asleep all the evening, and lias 
 just waked up as I come in. Or I find that 
 Dick Waring has been in late, and there are 
 those two men, talking as fast as any of us. 
 W/iat they find to talk about ! " 
 
 John Hathaway had never said it to anybody, 
 but he knew after his own fashion that by the 
 library fire of a Sunday night he came nearer 
 being a happy man than at any other time. As 
 lie settled back in his easy -chair, he loved his 
 wife for the comfort aboiit him and for the
 
 THE HATH AW AYS. 27 
 
 children hovering around his chair. Hatha- 
 way s content was all the greater when, as hap 
 pened frequently, Richard Waring dropped in 
 for Sunday night tea, and lingered through 
 the evening, reading, talking, or sitting silent. 
 It mattered not much to Hathaway which he 
 did : their friendship had long ago reached the 
 privilege of silence. It mattered little, too, to 
 Grace whether there was talking, so long as from 
 her window seat she could watch the group on 
 the hearth-rug and could keep Richard Waring s 
 fine profile clear cut in the firelight. 
 
 "Grace, come," said her father to-night, 
 "you are cold by that window. Come up by 
 the fire." 
 
 But Grace would not move, to break the spell 
 in which she sat. She shrank from approach 
 ing nearer to Waring, and she drew the heavy 
 window-curtains around her that he might not 
 see her. 
 
 Mrs. Hathaway sat in a low chair, and looked 
 thoughtfully into the fire, as she gathered little 
 Patty into her arms. Waring noticed the pic 
 ture, and reflected that it was Mrs. Hathaway 
 at her best ; that it was any woman at her best, 
 by her own hearthstone, with a child s arms 
 about her neck. He thought distastefully of 
 other ideals that were gaining upon the modern 
 world.
 
 28 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 " We have hardly seen you since last May, 
 Richard," said Mrs. Hathaway, her tenderness 
 for her little girl still in her voice. " And here 
 it is the first of October, and really chilly. Put 
 on another stick, won t you, John ? Very few 
 people are back yet ; but of course we don t 
 pretend to be fashionable. I expect cousin 
 Charlotte next week. Patty, if you sit in my 
 lap, you must sit still. You have never seen 
 Charlotte, Richard. Well, get down, Patty, if 
 you want to. Go to your papa. I have hardly 
 seen Charlotte at all the last dozen years ; just 
 short calls when she has been in the city. You 
 remember Charlotte, don t you, John? " 
 
 " At your aunt Cornelia s, yes, years ago. 
 A tall, shy young thing, always disappearing 
 with a book, generally a book too big for her. 
 Sometimes I got her in a corner, and we had 
 famous talks. It seems queer she s the girl." 
 
 " That all this has happened to," continued 
 Mrs. Hathaway. " Well, I was going to tell 
 you. It was the most extraordinary thing. And 
 it is a comfort to think that extraordinary things 
 do happen occasionally still. But, Richard, you 
 must know all about it, now I come to think ; 
 for I remember your speaking last spring about 
 that old Mr. Petrie that had lived all his life in 
 London, and came over to New York and died. 
 So sad, was n t it ? "
 
 THE HATHAWAYS. 29 
 
 This was one of the evenings when Waring 
 did not seem inclined to talk. 
 
 " There was nobody for him to leave his 
 money to," Mrs. Hathaway further explained, 
 " and when no will was found, of course it had 
 to go to the nearest relative he had, and that 
 was only his cousin s child. That happened to 
 be my cousin, Charlotte Coverdale. I belong 
 on the other side of the family, I am sorry to 
 say. Come, children, you must go to bed." 
 
 " I want to sit up," said Patty flatly. 
 
 " I am too old to go to bed at nine o clock," 
 pleaded Ned. " And I m too old to be kissed," 
 he ad.led, when that was attempted. 
 
 " Give them another half hour, Sue," their 
 father interceded. 
 
 " I know what," said Grace. " They want to 
 hear about cousin Charlotte. They like to hear 
 it over and over again, like a story. Fancy 
 those children ! " 
 
 " Well, Charlotte is coming to live in New 
 York. She is coming to the city next week, and 
 I have invited her to make me a visit first. I 
 must say I rather dread it myself. Charlotte is 
 so so well, I suppose you would call it supe 
 rior, as much as anything." 
 
 " Is she pretty ? " came Grace s voice from 
 the window. 
 
 " Hardly pretty."
 
 30 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 "Is she young or old, mamma ? " 
 
 "Neither," answered Mrs. Hathaway, though 
 she was not given to epigrams. " You could 
 calculate her age, but you could hardly guess it. 
 It is troublesome, because you don t know how 
 to take her." 
 
 " Is she awfully bright ? " 
 
 " I never heard anybody call her brilliant. 
 Richard, I want you to meet her," she added. 
 " She will want to meet literary people, I sup 
 pose." 
 
 " Thank you, I shall be honored." 
 
 " Isn t it thrilling?" said Grace, with a deep 
 breath. " Do you think she will really live on 
 Van Hatten Park, mamma?" 
 
 " It seems that there belonged to the Petrie 
 estate an old house on Van Hatten Park a 
 fine house in its day that has been used for a 
 boarding-house for years. What does that girl 
 propose to do but take possession of that old 
 house, and there she is going to live all by her 
 self. She will have aunt Cornelia ; but aunt 
 Cornelia wouldn t be my idea of a lively time, 
 I can tell you. And what is money for ? Char 
 lotte talks very prettily about independence and 
 a home of her own. Of course she has money 
 enough for anything." 
 
 Certain shattered projects of Mrs. Ilathaway s 
 miffhfc have been detected beneath this criti-
 
 THE HATHAWAYS. 31 
 
 cism of Charlotte, especially when she added, 
 " Of course, I had no room to take her in. I 
 could n t think of such an idea." 
 
 " She has done a sensible thing, in my opin 
 ion," said Hathaway. 
 
 "Oh, well," his wife replied, "that s your 
 way of looking at things. As for Van Hatten 
 Park, though it is very far down, and away off 
 to the east, still nice people do live there yet, 
 people with money. Everybody in New York 
 is n t as indifferent to money as you are, Rich 
 ard." Mrs. Hathaway smiled at him in an in 
 dulgent mood. " I don t think Charlotte is, for 
 instance. She seemed as pleased as a child in 
 the letter she wrote me. That is what I mean, 
 sometimes she seems so young, don t you 
 understand ? " 
 
 Waring was wondering how much more of this 
 sort of thing he had to sit out, when Mrs. Hath 
 away rose with the children and marched them 
 off to bed. Grace hesitated a moment, then fol 
 lowed her mother out of the room. She looked 
 back as she reached the door, to see whether 
 Waring noticed her. He was looking into the 
 fire, sad and preoccupied, and Grace went slowly 
 down the stairs. 
 
 The two men left by themselves did not speak 
 for some moments. Said John Hathaway at 
 last, " Will you have a cigar, Waring ? "
 
 32 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 " I don t care if I do." 
 
 A long silence followed, but talk was brewing. 
 Hathaway was meditating : his kind, tired eyes 
 sharpened and became shrewd, as they did 
 whenever values were in question. It was 
 plain that he was weighing something in his 
 mind, as he looked earnestly at his friend with 
 out speaking. The mingling of smoke was suf 
 ficient substitute for the mingling of ideas, and 
 neither was conscious of the silence. 
 
 At last Hathaway went back to the beginning 
 of his thoughts and spoke out. " Waring, you 
 never told me the whole story about old Petrie." 
 
 "Your wife has the facts. No will was found, 
 and the property went to the nearest heir, 
 this cousin of yours, it seems." 
 
 " I had a notion that that money would go to 
 you, Waring." 
 
 " I supposed he had made a will. His law 
 yers knew he had. He never told me in so 
 many words, but I had good reason to believe 
 that he meant me to inherit a part, at least, of 
 his property. His lawyers know that when he 
 arrived in this country he had in his possession 
 a will made some time ago in London, lie 
 consulted them about its validity. He did not 
 mention names, but his intentions were clear 
 enough. Of course he may have destroyed it. 
 He had caprices in his last days. He was very
 
 THE HATHAWAYS. 33 
 
 angry with rne once. But no, I do my best not 
 to think that : he was too kind and just a man. 
 The best friend I ever had, John." 
 
 Richard Waring did not wear his heart on 
 his sleeve ; it took the quiet Sunday night, the 
 warmth of Hathaway s friendship, and the gentle 
 influence of Hathaway s best cigar, to elicit so 
 tender a recital as the story he told of James 
 Petrie. 
 
 " That was what he did for me, John," he 
 concluded, " and I loved him." 
 
 " I wish he had left you that money," said 
 John Hathaway meditatively. 
 
 " For more than the money s sake I wish he 
 had. It makes a break that is a sorrow to me. 
 I tell you I fight against the idea that he disin 
 herited me, but it gets the better of me some 
 times. There are the whims of a sick man." 
 
 " I believe the will is in existence," said John 
 stoutly. 
 
 " An expert search was made. Nothing was 
 found among his belongings." 
 
 " How much does my wife s cousin know about 
 this?" 
 
 "Nothing whatever. I prefer not to pose 
 before Miss Coverdale or before the world as 
 a disappointed heir. I "11 thank you never to 
 mention my connection with the business. The 
 lawyers are discreet. Miss Coverdale has never
 
 34 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 heard my name. I was sorry that she was your 
 cousin. I did n t care to run against her. I 
 would rather dismiss the whole subject. I may 
 meet this young lady as your wife s cousin, but 
 I prefer not to meet her as James Petrie s 
 cousin. Take care what you say to her. And 
 look after your wife, too. Let s drop the whole 
 subject. Here s an end of it." 
 
 " What became of all his trunks and boxes?" 
 
 " Everything was passed over to her." 
 
 " She will be the one to find that will some 
 day, mark my words. What then ? " 
 
 Waring expressed his impatience without tak 
 ing his cigar out of his mouth. 
 
 "You will have to settle it between you, 
 Dick. There would be one very simple way." 
 John laughed, and Richard declined to hear. 
 
 " Upon my word. I believe that s the way it 
 will end, Dick. All I want is to see how the 
 thing works out. All the world s a stage, and 
 all the men and women merely players." 
 
 " When did you take to quoting Shake 
 speare ? You make me think of a clever old 
 dame I fell in with the other day, who quotes 
 him inordinately." 
 
 " Let me see her." 
 
 " An old lady with a turn for proverbial phi 
 losophy. But she carries it off with a laugh, 
 I declare, a laugh the feminine of Falstaff s ! 
 Bisbee, Mrs. Bisbee, they said she was."
 
 THE HATH AW AYS. 35 
 
 There was a lull, and Hathaway kept up his 
 meditation. 
 
 " I don t know that I blame you for not want 
 ing to meet her, Dick," was the final outcome 
 of his reflections. " I doubt if she s your style 
 of woman. I haven t seen her lately, but I 
 believe she belongs to the new dispensation." 
 
 " I know the type," said Waring briefly. 
 
 Again the conversation dropped, though 
 friendly intercourse went on uninterrupted. 
 
 " Have you seen Jebb s article in the Fo 
 rum ? " said Waring at length. 
 
 "It s there on the table, but I get no time to 
 read. I have not read a book for ten years, 
 except now and then a novel." 
 
 " What s the trouble, Hathaway ? " 
 
 " Well, I suppose I am your American busi 
 ness man, that s all. There has been enough 
 written about me for me to recognize myself by 
 this time. It s all true, that s the worst of it. 
 I am always in a hurry. I am prematurely gray, 
 old at forty-two. I have no leisure, and, worse 
 than that, I am uneasy under it when I do have 
 any. I go to my office on a holiday. I am in 
 capable of a holiday. I have lost the facility 
 of recreation. About the highest pleasure I 
 have left is poking the fire here. I have no 
 rational amusements. Sometimes I go to the 
 theatre, but I have not mind enough left by
 
 36 THE PETIUE ESTATE. 
 
 sundown for anything but a farce. I laugh, but 
 it s the laugh of imbecility. As for reading, 
 if I take up a book that is well, that is 
 worthy of me, I am asleep in five minutes, and 
 take to the sofa to finish the evening. I buy 
 books. It s my one indulgence. I like to 
 handle them, but there it ends. I used to talk, 
 but I believe I m known now as a silent man. 
 I am dull and commonplace, just as they de 
 scribe me. Beyond my business, I don t origi 
 nate an idea in six months. And my mind 
 was n t always in this torpid state. You knew 
 me fifteen years ago, say ? " 
 
 " I knew you for the brightest fellow of the 
 lot. You have simply put your mind into busi 
 ness. You have built up your business from a 
 small beginning. Intellect is intellect." 
 
 " I have heard enough about the American 
 love of money. I don t love money. If 1 could 
 by any honest means become a poor man, but 
 there s my family to think of. I must be able 
 to rely on a certain income, and more every 
 year, for some reason. We began plainly 
 enough, Sue and I, out in a suburb. But com 
 ing to the city to live has altered things. We 
 must do like other people, as Sue says. But 
 you can see, Waring, that a man situated as I 
 am must be able to rely on a certain income," 
 repeated Hathaway, with a worried contraction
 
 THE HATH AW AYS. 37 
 
 of the brow and restless glancing of the eyes. 
 " I must work ; there s no help for it. What 
 would you have me do ? " 
 
 Waring would have enjoyed a neat denuncia 
 tion of Mrs. Hathaway, and he determined to 
 have it out with the public if he could not utter 
 his opinion of her at her own fireside. He had 
 long set Mrs. Hathaway down as an enemy of 
 society. 
 
 " Are you studying my case ? " said Hatha 
 way at length. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Do you see any remedy ? " 
 
 " Not for you." 
 
 " I told you so. Don t write any more about 
 me." 
 
 Hathaway fell to poking the fire. With a 
 new stick and a new blaze, he changed the sub 
 ject completely. 
 
 " Strange how the sanest of business men 
 lose their heads when it comes to will-making. 
 That s the reason they furnish the everlasting 
 theme for the story- writer. You see I cannot 
 get this thing out of my mind. What can the 
 old fellow have done with that bit of paper ? I 
 confess I am curious to see the girl that has 
 come into the property ; to see how she carries 
 herself under a fortune. Charlotte, her name 
 is Charlotte, Charlotte. 1 1 The friends again 
 relapsed into confidential silence.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CHARLOTTE IN NEW YORK. 
 
 CHARLOTTE had arrived at nine in the morn 
 ing, and was now in her room, preparing for 
 breakfast. Mrs. Hathaway was moving about 
 her parlor, adjusting chairs and bric-a-brac, with 
 the renewed interest in her possessions that every 
 woman feels when they are to meet a stranger s 
 eye. She advanced, retreated, studied the effect, 
 altered a bit of drapery, then drew away again 
 to be certain of the impression. She spoke ab 
 sently to Grace, so absorbed was she in prepar 
 ing the right effect for Charlotte. " Do you 
 think you shall like her? How would it do to 
 draw that table around ? " 
 
 " She is beautiful," said Grace fervently. 
 
 u She looks tired, and that makes her look 
 old. There, how will that do? But what wo 
 man does n t look old after a night in a sleeping- 
 car? What but a man could sleep in a sleeping- 
 car? It shows the difference, I m sure ! " sighed 
 Mrs. Hathaway, who never wholly forgave her 
 husband that he slept well on a night journey. 
 She made it a point of superiority in her sex
 
 CHARLOTTE IN NEW YOKE. 39 
 
 that their finer organization forbade rest in ir 
 regular places. 
 
 "You should show a little interest, Grace. 
 How does that strike you ? You have your 
 ideas." 
 
 Grace gave her opinion faithfully, but did not 
 cease her dreaming. The girl had begun early 
 to live other people s lives, and at this moment 
 she had lost herself in Charlotte. She watched 
 her cousin silently and intently when she came 
 down to breakfast. Charlotte was pale, and there 
 were dusky circles under her eyes. Romantic 
 Grace was forced to notice that after steak and 
 coffee her heroine s color returned, and her eyes 
 brightened. She could, moreover, discover in 
 Charlotte no consciousness of her new fortunes ; 
 she found the talk commonplace, except that, so 
 the girl puzzled within herself, when cousin 
 Charlotte said the thing, you always listened, 
 and, especially, you always looked. See Ned and 
 Patty hovering about the table ! 
 
 " Ned," said his mother, " do go and get your 
 other necktie on not that mussy one." 
 
 Ned remonstrated. " I am afraid cousin 
 Charlotte will say something while I am gone." 
 
 " If there is n t a compliment, cousin Char 
 lotte ! " cried Grace delightedly. 
 
 But Mrs. Hathaway was quick to explain the 
 compliment away. " That is always the way
 
 40 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 with children when there s company in the house. 
 They will hang about." 
 
 Grace waited and listened for some reference 
 to great events. The subject was finally ap 
 proached prosaically enough, she lamented. 
 
 " I suppose your trunks will be here directly," 
 said Mrs. Hathaway. 
 
 " I have only one with me. I brought it on 
 the carriage." 
 
 Mrs. Hathaway was not a subtle thinker. " I 
 suppose you will have a great deal of shopping 
 to do," was her next remark. 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Charlotte, without offense, and 
 with the glad, girlish air with which she seemed 
 to have stepped into her fortune. Mrs. Hatha 
 way smiled with sympathy, quite carried away 
 by the sight of Charlotte s happiness. 
 
 " You don t know how we all enjoy it, cousin 
 Charlotte ! " Grace broke out. 
 
 " Say Charlotte, " said Charlotte joyously. 
 
 "You do seem young," Mrs. Hathaway re 
 marked, intently. 
 
 " I have been old and am young again. I feel 
 so indeed." 
 
 " It is a great change for you, this money. 
 John says the Petrie estate is very large." 
 
 " Yes, it is a great change." To Grace, the 
 words were eloquent, and Charlotte was beauti 
 ful as she said them.
 
 CHARLOTTE IN NEW YORK. 41 
 
 Charlotte was as yet in the care-free enjoy 
 ment of her wealth ; its responsibilities had not 
 yet weighed upon her. Except at brief moments 
 she took it lightly and gayly, with a joyous antici 
 pation of spending and having. There came a 
 time when she looked back upon this period of 
 her fortunes with curiosity, and with a certain 
 satisfaction that she had- known the simple and 
 pagan enjoyment of riches. She loved her money, 
 and she was supremely happy in material things, 
 which seemed all at once to give color and sub 
 stance to her outward life. It was not in her 
 nature to linger upon this level, but when she 
 rose from it, it was with a full comprehension of 
 those who never get beyond the period of mere 
 possession. She knew the temptations, the satis 
 factions, and the limit of happiness of those who 
 live to have. 
 
 " You will stay with us till you go into your 
 house, Charlotte ? " said Mrs. Hathaway affec 
 tionately. Her new warmth towards her cousin 
 would be unjustly attributed to Charlotte s in 
 creased importance as a woman of fortune. It 
 was the same expansion of heart that all Char 
 lotte s friends had felt on hearing of the pictur 
 esque change in her lot. All mankind loves ro 
 mance, and in America the romance of money is 
 dear to the imagination. Said Mrs. Hathaway 
 again, " You will stay with us as long as you 
 can, Charlotte ? "
 
 42 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 " A week, Sue. Then I must begin work upon 
 my house. Until I can go into it, I shall stay 
 very near there, at a place that my friend Mrs. 
 Appleby has recommended to me. I have my 
 house to furnish from attic to cellar, you know, 
 Sue." 
 
 The conversation settled down comfortably to 
 a discussion of curtains, carpets, and uphol 
 stery. 
 
 The family assembled again at dinner, and 
 Charlotte then met John Hathaway, for the 
 first time for several years. He had expected to 
 find a change from her slim, awkward girlhood, 
 but the first sight of her took him aback. 
 " Upon my word," he thought, " has money done 
 all this?" 
 
 Charlotte s bright glance went from one to the 
 other at the table, and rested upon Patty, oppo 
 site. Patty was a little schoolgirl of twelve, 
 who did not take kindly to books, and whose 
 favorite role at home was that of the school- 
 martyr. She had come to the table to-night 
 with a careworn pucker of her little brow. 
 
 " Hullo, Patty, what s the matter ? " said her 
 father. 
 
 " It s the most terrible jography lesson. She 
 always gives us dreadful lessons." Patty over 
 did her sigh, and they all laughed, till her mo 
 ther said, " I can t have the child worried. I
 
 CHARLOTTE IN NEW YORK. 43 
 
 shall have her drop something. I will see my 
 children happy." 
 
 " Oh, brace up, Patty," said her father gayly. 
 
 " I guess I shall go to college." Ned offered 
 this information to Charlotte aside, and she met 
 his confidence with such interest in her kind 
 eyes that the question was settled for him then 
 and there. " I am going in four years," he 
 added. 
 
 The talk at table fell chiefly to Hathaway, 
 drawn on by Charlotte. Naturally, the conver 
 sation was referred to her, as the guest. Char 
 lotte glanced from Hathaway to his wife and 
 back again, with pretty congratulation for Mrs. 
 Plathaway whenever her husband said a good 
 thing. 
 
 Hathaway mentioned James Petrie, and spoke 
 of him as Charlotte wished him to be spoken of. 
 Few people had pleased her when, in congratu 
 lating her upon her fortune, they had indulged in 
 a facetious word about obliging distant cousins. 
 
 " My friend Waring knew him well," John 
 Hathaway added carelessly. 
 
 " I should be glad to meet any one who knew 
 him," said Charlotte with earnestness. 
 
 " Oh, you will meet Waring. Yes, there was 
 something that took hold of you in the old man s 
 getting home to die. I was reminded of it by 
 an experience of Waring s the other day. He
 
 44 THE PETE IE ESTATE. 
 
 was on the ferry-boat, and he fell in with a 
 pathetic old Frenchman, stranded in America. 
 Waring warmed his heart by talking French to 
 him, and the poor old fellow let it all out. It 
 was the same story, only lower down ; old and 
 lonely and longing for his native land, but 
 without a penny to get there. The amount of it 
 was, Waring paid his passage home." 
 
 " I am glad," said Charlotte. 
 
 " That s the kind of a fellow Waring is. 
 He s got that streak in him. I ve a notion he 
 was thinking of the other, of your old cousin." 
 
 " That makes five times I have heard you tell 
 that story, John." Mrs. Hathaway did not 
 speak unamiably. Her high, even voice was 
 always the same. It sounded of innutrition, 
 spiritual and intellectual. Mrs. Hathaway tock 
 infinite pains that her personal appearance should 
 make the right impression, at a glance. She had 
 not, however, taken so good care of her voice as 
 of her complexion, and the illusion vanished 
 with her speech, itself the subtlest of first impres 
 sions. Moreover, Mrs. Hathaway had dropped 
 politeness with her husband soon after her 
 marriage, as she had " dropped " her music, for 
 more serious affairs. She had soon begun to 
 keep her love as she did her religion, for ecstatic 
 moments, without carrying either into the details 
 of life.
 
 CHARLOTTE IN NEW YORK. 45 
 
 Charlotte was still musing upon Waring s 
 quixotism, and so apparently was Hathaway, 
 for he said presently, " By the way, Grace, I saw 
 Waring to-day. He inquired how you got on 
 with Motley. He has lent her Motley s Dutch 
 Republic, " Hathaway explained. 
 
 " I should think we had books enough in the 
 house without borrowing," said Mrs. Hathaway. 
 
 " Not Motley, mamma." 
 
 " If Richard Waring says she must read a 
 book, why, read it she must." 
 
 Charlotte wondered if it were the fire of Mot 
 ley s epic that brought the color to Grace s face. 
 A suspicion had been awakened as she had 
 watched the young girl listen to her father s 
 story. 
 
 "It s perfectly grand," said Grace, ignoring 
 mention of Waring. Then, with an overflow of 
 confidence, she turned to Charlotte, " Oh, don t 
 you think it is lovely to talk about books ? " 
 Her father gave a boyish shout of amusement, 
 and her mother said comfortably, " Well, you 
 have got somebody now to talk books with, 
 have n t you ? " 
 
 Charlotte smiled at Grace, and gave her hand 
 a little squeeze under the table. Their friend 
 ship was plighted. 
 
 Mrs. Hathaway had by this time seen the last 
 course of the dinner well under way, and turned 
 to Charlotte for a little conversation.
 
 46 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 A week later Charlotte left the Hathaways 
 and took up her temporary abode at a house 
 on Van Hatten Park, two doors away from her 
 future home. Although this was undeniably a 
 boarding-house, yet Charlotte, like many an 
 other, dated from it some of her happiest ex 
 periences. There were, to be sure, the usual 
 dramatis personce : the young married couple, 
 lacking the courage of their conviction that a 
 home is the earthly heaven ; there was the mid 
 dle-aged married couple, the lady preferring to 
 wear diamonds in a boarding-house rather than 
 keep house in a flat ; and there were the el 
 derly, childless, homeless husband and wife. 
 There was also the married lady whose hus 
 band one must not inquire for, and, again, two 
 or three small-faced, slim-legged children, in a 
 state of suppression. Finally, there were at 
 least three or four people whose acquaintance 
 was worth cultivating. There was that pleas 
 ant old gentleman, the senior boarder, almost 
 a boarder emeritus, in fact, since after he had 
 spent twenty years in her third floor back, the 
 landlady had insisted on reducing the price of 
 his board. She was a business woman, and 
 was sure of a fair equivalent. No person made 
 application at her house who was not informed 
 that Mr. Pilkington had been with her twenty 
 years. He was a kindly old man, who all his
 
 CHARLOTTE IN NEW YORK. 47 
 
 life had carried his head a little on one side. 
 He went slowly up and down the stairs, bowing 
 courteously to the ladies, politely flattening him 
 self against the wall as they passed, and offering 
 them his newspaper or reporting the state of the 
 thermometer. There was one lady among them, 
 towards whom, at table, he always bent his more 
 reliable ear. This was Mrs. Bisbee, a widow of 
 less than moderate means, who occupied a hall 
 bedroom on the fourth floor. When Charlotte 
 first appeared at dinner, Mrs. Bisbee was ab 
 sent, and the boarding-house hush prevailed. 
 
 " Mr. Pilkingtoii, where is Mrs. Bisbee ? " 
 asked one married lady. That Mrs. Bisbee and 
 Mr. Pilkington were " devoted " to each other 
 was a light fiction of the boarding-house. Mrs. 
 Bisbee humored the comedy and frankly paired 
 herself off in conversation with the old gentle 
 man daily at dinner. 
 
 " Yes, where is Mrs. Bisbee ? " was echoed 
 down the table. 
 
 " We always miss Mrs. Bisbee," started at the 
 head and passed around the board. Then the 
 hush settled again, and the business of eating 
 proceeded swiftly and silently. 
 
 Charlotte laid her head on her pillow that 
 night in unreasoning and helpless depression of 
 spirits. She felt herself neither in the old life 
 nor in the new. She had burned her ships
 
 48 THE PET HIE ESTATE. 
 
 behind her happily and honorably. There was 
 nothing to regret ; yet she sighed with the inevi 
 table nostalgia for the past. There was nothing 
 to regret ; and she reviewed the course of events 
 at High Hill Seminary. The trustees had, at 
 the close of the last school year, expressed their 
 high sense of Miss Trowbridge s services, and 
 had begged her to accept relief from her duties 
 and a handsome provision for the future. She 
 had received their proposition with a correspond 
 ing high sense of her services, and had retired 
 with unshaken dignity and unsuspicious satisfac 
 tion with her career. The trustees then pro 
 ceeded : they invited Miss Coverdale to become 
 the head of High Hill Seminary. Her decision, 
 as it happened, was aided by the fact that at 
 her side was an able woman, her warm friend, 
 and the next in succession, as Charlotte was 
 aware, in the eyes of the governing board. The 
 trustees received Charlotte s resignation with 
 regret and deliberation. They were not a soul 
 less corporation ; their strong business sense 
 was dashed with nineteenth-century chivalry. 
 A fine idea prevailed among them and elevated 
 their thoughts, while it worked for the elevation 
 of woman. At the annual meeting the body 
 was agitated with a still more advanced idea. 
 This took shape in the election of Miss Cover- 
 dale as a member of their body, though never
 
 CHARLOTTE IN NEW YORK. 49 
 
 before had a woman taken her seat among them. 
 Thus the old life had closed behind Charlotte, 
 and the new world lay ahead. 
 
 The next night Mrs. Bisbee appeared at the 
 table, and the landlady said, " Mrs. Bisbee, I 11 
 make you acquainted with Miss Coverdale, sit- 
 tin beside you." 
 
 Mrs. Bisbee was short and stout. She had a 
 laugh that had extracted the last drop of humor 
 from every experience, and that had been her 
 preservative in a life full of vicissitudes. This 
 laugh was thorough and searching ; it made no 
 sound, but shook her gently from head to foot, 
 and in its vibration caught up her neighbors. 
 Mrs. Bisbee had a bright little eye, that was gay 
 at a variety of things, from a sparkling epigram 
 to a tempting dessert. She was never shabby, 
 yet she was always badly dressed. She might 
 stand before her glass properly attired, but five 
 minutes later every article of her dress would 
 have begun to pull the wrong way. Her bonnet 
 slid to the back of her head, a standing collar 
 fell flat, a flat collar stood up, her waist skewed 
 to the left, her skirt to the right. " The fact is, 
 my dear, I need a daughter." So she would say 
 often, for Mrs. Bisbee was so excellent a phi 
 losopher and humorist that she could see her 
 self. 
 
 She greeted Charlotte briskly upon the land-
 
 50 TI1E PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 lady s introduction, and told her an anecdote at 
 once. " I lost no time," Mrs. Bisbee explained 
 long after. " I tried you and found you were 
 quick to be amused. That s a great qualifica 
 tion in my eyes. They never insist upon it in 
 the books, but how intolerable my heroine would 
 be without humor ! " In Mrs. Bisbee s roomy 
 nature there was place for all kinds of men and 
 women, save one species : she had no tolerance 
 for the literal-minded. Dull she pronounced 
 with a prolonged and deadly emphasis. Face- 
 tiousness without wit, and philosophy without 
 wisdom were alike odious to Mrs. Bisbee ; nor 
 had she any charity for those who told their 
 dreams. It went hard with her when her own 
 talk was subjected to a literal interpreter. She 
 did not forget that sweet young English girl 
 who greeted her best stories with " No ? 
 Keally ? Fancy ! " For Mrs. Bisbee made it 
 a principle never to spoil a good story by slav 
 ish adherence to truth, and those who listened 
 to her from year to year remarked upon the 
 added flavor and mellowness which time lent to 
 her excellent repertory. Under the stimulus of 
 a bright new listener, Mrs. Bisbee was at her 
 best this evening. Not the homage of Mr. Pil- 
 kington s bow across the table was so warming 
 to her wit as Charlotte s keen, delighted glance. 
 A healthy murmur went up and down the table ;
 
 CHARLOTTE IN NEW YORK. 51 
 
 the apathy of the previous night was shaken off, 
 and the boarders lingered over their coffee. 
 
 "Upon my word," said Mrs. Bisbee, "it s 
 getting late," and she consulted her easy-going 
 watch and calculated the hour with tolerable 
 accuracy. " I am going to a symphony con 
 cert." 
 
 "It s precisely twenty -seven minutes to 
 eight," said Mr. Pilkington, watch in hand. 
 Mrs. Bisbee herself told time in round num 
 bers, with a generous margin in your favor. It 
 was impossible to lose a train upon her calcu 
 lation. This habit was trying to Mr. Pilking 
 ton, who was of the opinion that an accurate 
 time-piece in a man s pocket is the basis of a 
 well-ordered life. To women he leniently al 
 lowed a different standard, regarding an irregu 
 lar watch as consistent with other feminine per 
 turbations. A care of their watches was one of 
 his courteous little attentions to the houseful 
 of ladies. Mrs. Bisbee tolerantly allowed him 
 to set hers right, knowing well that it would 
 gain upon him by ten minutes in the next 
 twenty-four hours. 
 
 Mrs. Bisbee and Charlotte walked up the 
 stairs together. " From New England ? from 
 the Connecticut Valley ? A good point of de 
 parture ! An admirable place to be born, 
 none better; and a quiet place to die. But
 
 52 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 in the mean while New York ! So you have 
 come here to live. That s good ! " 
 
 The Hathaways were still talking of Char 
 lotte. 
 
 " When will she come again to make us a 
 visit ? " Patty pleaded. 
 
 " Do you think she will ever be married, 
 mamma ? " said Grace dreamily. 
 
 " She s not very likely to be. They gener 
 ally go into philanthropy at her age. Still, she 
 may, with her money."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 25 VAN HATTEN PARK. 
 
 BUSY days followed. Mrs. Hathaway, Grace, 
 and Charlotte inspected 25 Van Hatten Park to 
 gether. As Charlotte fitted the key into the 
 door of her own home, a current of happiness 
 set through her heart. That the house was 
 empty and echoing mattered little ; she passed 
 from room to room, in full consciousness of a 
 fateful and memorable moment. She meant to 
 remember and treasure it ; for, with the self -con 
 sciousness of maturity, she knew, on the instant, 
 the depth of an experience and its future value. 
 
 As for Grace, she was turning the leaves of 
 a new novel. "How thrilling ! " she murmured, 
 catching her cousin s hand. 
 
 Mrs. Hathaway recalled them to a business 
 like examination of the house. Charlotte found 
 that it had many good points. The fine rose 
 wood doors, the delicately wrought fireplaces, 
 the large, old-fashioned mirrors, and the noble 
 stairway with stately landing, all were fea 
 tures of the old New York house which she would
 
 54 THE PETUIE ESTATE. 
 
 jealously preserve. It happened to be an Eng 
 lish basement house, and Charlotte quickly ap 
 propriated each room : the reception-room on 
 the right for strangers, the drawing-room above 
 for guests, the library in the rear for friends. 
 Upstairs there was the sunny chamber for aunt 
 Cornelia. The front windows of the house com 
 manded the Park. More than anything else 
 this view from her drawing-room gave Charlotte 
 the sensation of a new life beginning. The 
 sparkle of a fountain, the flash of a white statue 
 through the green, the gay autumn foliage beds, 
 all gleaming and glancing in the keen October 
 sunshine, seemed there that they might typify 
 the new brightness of her lot. She took meas 
 urements joyously, buoyant with the power to 
 spend. Even to Sue Hathaway she was warmed 
 to speak out her thoughts, taking the risk of 
 comprehension. " Sue, it seems to me stranger 
 every day that I can have these things for the 
 asking, I, who never had a superfluous thing 
 in my life." 
 
 " You will find it hard in shopping to get 
 exactly what you want. You can hardly have 
 tilings for the asking, even if you have plenty 
 of money. It takes a very experienced shopper." 
 
 Such a shopper Mrs. Hathaway indeed was ; 
 and next to the pleasure of spending money on 
 her own behalf, was her honest delight in sug-
 
 25 VAN HATTEN PARK. 55 
 
 gesting to other people how to spend theirs. 
 Charlotte found her most helpful and obliging 
 in the weeks that followed, while Mrs. Hath 
 away liked her cousin better that she was so 
 teachable, and her talk so comprehensible and 
 so free from classical allusions. " It s a good 
 while since she went to college," was Mrs. Hath- 
 away s conclusion. " I presume she s forgotten 
 most of it." 
 
 Charlotte, in fact, went about among the 
 shops in company with Mrs. Hathaway, and 
 gave herself up to simple revelry among beauti 
 ful furniture and decorations. The sensuous 
 delights of shopping she tasted to the full. She 
 loved color as a child loves sweet things ; she 
 handled an exquisite fabric with a penetrating 
 delight ; she sank into a luxurious chair with 
 an abandoned content. 
 
 " I confess I am puzzled," said Mrs. Hath 
 away. " Where did you get your taste ? " 
 
 Charlotte was oddly susceptible to the ap 
 proval of her cousin. The relations between 
 women of widely different calibre are delicate 
 and complicated ; and it is oftener the superior 
 woman who receives the wound. Charlotte felt 
 now and again cut off from the common lot of 
 woman by Mrs. Hathaway s surprise at any 
 feminine taste or instinct on her part. 
 
 " Why in the world should you want a house
 
 66 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 of your own ? " Mrs. Hathaway had said. " I 
 thought you were all for Looks." An anomaly 
 that Sue could never account for was the fact 
 that the sentiment of home could exist iu a wo 
 man s heart, unsupported by husband and chil 
 dren. It was a freak, she was sure ; it could 
 never last. More than once lately Mrs. Hath 
 away had contemplated her cousin and had re 
 flected, " She is very much like other women, 
 after all." Charlotte would have been touched 
 and grateful had she heard this praise. 
 
 25 Van Hatten Park grew in character and 
 completeness day by day. Charlotte had seen 
 but few New York interiors, and by sheer inex 
 perience she gave her house individuality. Igno 
 rance, it is true, was supplemented by taste and 
 originality, and a high authority pronounced the 
 result a " creation." To tell the truth, Char 
 lotte s house had been furnished largely out of 
 her dreams. It was the product of imagination, 
 working for years to create an ideal home. 
 
 " And now the next thing, I suppose, is aunt 
 Cornelia," said Mrs. Hathaway. "You really 
 do need her for a finishing touch." 
 
 O 
 
 It was another of Charlotte s historic moments 
 when she led her aunt to the beautiful room 
 which was to be hers. 
 
 In appearance aunt Cornelia was a tall, deli 
 cate, but well-preserved woman of seventy. In
 
 25 VAN HATTEN PARK. 57 
 
 her face was the beauty of health and character, 
 which was now her compensation for a plain 
 girlhood. A life of kindness was written upon 
 her features, of goodness unmarred by self-ap 
 probation. She lived quite unaware that she 
 left behind her a gently shining wake of good 
 deeds. Not that Miss Cornelia Coverdale was 
 faultless. It would have been easy to call her 
 narrow. For example, the United States, to her 
 mind, had never grown much beyond the thir 
 teen original colonies. The outlying region to 
 the west she turned her back upon in willing 
 ignorance. She was even provincial within her 
 province, and lived in a Massachusetts of her 
 own. Certain tales of New England life which 
 Charlotte had found delightful and had com 
 mended to her aunt, that good lady had read 
 kindly and faithfully; but she was obliged to 
 tell her niece that she had never seen such peo 
 ple. They might exist in some remote part of 
 the State, she added gently. The dialect of 
 these stories was an affliction to her : their 
 grammar and idioms were lamentable, and not 
 to be perpetuated. In short, this was not her 
 New England, the abode of poets, saints, and 
 scholars. Aunt Cornelia was quite unaware that 
 she spoke a New England idiom of her own 
 social rank, which for Charlotte s ear had al 
 ways a delightful relish. While Miss Cornelia
 
 58 THE PETUIE ESTATE. 
 
 was geographically a narrow American, in point 
 of time she clung to her country in its heroic 
 epochs. The America of the Revolution and the 
 Civil War was the only one she knew or cared 
 about. She had been held up in her father s 
 arms to see Lafayette pass by, and so helped to 
 close the Revolutionary period; and she had 
 passed through the Civil War in the anguish 
 and rapture of patriotism, the strongest emo 
 tion she had ever known. 
 
 On the whole her life had been serene and 
 happy, without vivid joys, and with but one 
 great sorrow. When her younger brother, Char 
 lotte s father, died in battle, people watched 
 Miss Cornelia. They called her " greatly soft 
 ened," though she had been a blameless girl 
 and woman. She was, rather, greatly instructed ; 
 she was taught to the utmost of her capacity. 
 Working mysteriously, this sorrow gave her 
 comprehension of her niece s character and fu 
 ture. There came the question whether Char 
 lotte s little inheritance should be expended on 
 a generous education for the girl, or should be 
 reserved to supply an income for her wardrobe, 
 while Charlotte lived at home witli her aunt. 
 There was nothing narrow in Miss Cornelia s 
 decision. Education was to her truly a treasure 
 that neither moth nor rust could corrupt. She 
 even counseled and aided a year of foreign life
 
 25 VAN II ATT EN PARK. 59 
 
 for her niece, while she herself sat at home and 
 followed Charlotte s wanderings with books of 
 travel from the library. Aunt Cornelia had an 
 uncovetous reverence for things that she did not 
 possess. " Education " and " Europe " were 
 among her hallowed words. Her mind dwelt 
 much in the Old World, occupied as her days 
 were with letters, memoirs, and biographies of 
 great Englishmen. The Lake coterie were her 
 intimates, and she quoted them as if she had 
 met them by the road that morning. Their bio 
 graphies, however, she knew far better than 
 their writings. The daily course of Words 
 worth s life was more familiar to her than that 
 of her next-door neighbor, for Miss Cornelia was 
 reserved in her relations with people outside of 
 books. She had, for instance, a great tender 
 ness for love stories, while in real life she felt 
 only embarrassment in the face of romance. As 
 a young girl, Miss Cornelia had, by her own 
 fright, intimidated more than one would-be lover. 
 Finally one appeared whom she would have liked 
 to love, but the stronger her inclination grew, the 
 more chilling her behavior became. The young 
 fellow was modest, and inexperienced in the ways 
 of women ; he acted on what he thought an un 
 mistakable hint, and relapsed into friendship. 
 Then began a sad season for Miss Cornelia, in 
 which she dreamed by day and by night of her
 
 60 THE PETIUE ESTATE. 
 
 lost lover. Through one long sleep she saw him, 
 with all confessed and composed between them. 
 In her dream he stooped and kissed her, and 
 her whole life lay before her in joy and peace. 
 That dream kiss was the only lover s kiss her 
 lips had ever known. 
 
 Time went on, but not unhappily. There 
 were years when she dreamed of a lover ; then 
 followed years that were harder, when she looked 
 at little children with wistful eyes, and buried, 
 by force, regrets that resisted all gentle reason 
 ing. But by and by came serenity, to which 
 any change would have been rude and disturb 
 ing. Moreover, aunt Cornelia s life had been 
 filled out by the charge of her niece, which had 
 fallen to her upon the death of Charlotte s par 
 ents. 
 
 " Nature intended you for an aunt," Charlotte 
 had said laughingly and lovingly, before she 
 was quite old enough to know the full weight of 
 words. Aunt Cornelia smiled upon her, but sat 
 thoughtful afterwards. 
 
 By the time her aunt arrived in New York, 
 Charlotte and Mrs. Bisbee were sworn friends 
 and neighbors. With some misgivings Char 
 lotte brought together her aunt and her new 
 acquaintance. She watched them for a few 
 minutes, then made an excuse for leaving them 
 together. They got on somewhat after this
 
 25 VAN II ATT EN PARE. 61 
 
 fashion. Mrs. Bisbee said something congrat 
 ulatory about Miss Cornelia s arrival in New 
 York for the winter. 
 
 " She is very dear to me. It was right that I 
 should make the sacrifice," was the reply. 
 
 Mrs. Bisbee sought for another subject. She 
 never quite knew how it came to be the obser 
 vance of Sunday, but she was soon saying stoutly, 
 " I am not superstitious, but I do believe that 
 every human being needs to put in for repairs at 
 least once a week. And for my part, it does me 
 good to go to church and sit in the corner of 
 my pew and call myself a miserable sinner." 
 
 " I am not an Episcopalian" said aunt Cor 
 nelia, with gentle correction. " But I feel quite 
 as you do about the corner of my pew," she 
 added. 
 
 Mrs. Bisbee was five minutes later saying 
 something about her poverty, and following it 
 up with a quiver of laughter. This was also 
 not a topic to aunt Cornelia s taste, who held 
 that one s poverty was no more to be talked 
 about than one s religion or one s early love 
 affairs. She and her circle were not accustomed 
 to make light jokes about their incomes, after 
 the manner of these New York Bohemians. 
 Nevertheless, in her own fashion, aunt Corne 
 lia divided the world into rich and poor; "a 
 person of narrow means " was spoken of with
 
 62 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 expressive pinching of the lips, while " a person 
 of ample means " was mentioned in large and 
 generous tones. Mrs. Bisbee s rollicking treat 
 ment of so serious a subject embarrassed Miss 
 Cornelia, and made another hitch in the conver 
 sation. Mrs. Bisbee bethought her of common 
 ground. " Your niece is a fine girl," she said. 
 Miss Cornelia could not praise her niece to a 
 stranger ; but she accepted Mrs. Bisbee s com 
 pliment without arguing against it, as she 
 would have dealt with any compliment to her 
 self. " This establishment of hers does very 
 well for the present," Mrs. Bisbee continued. 
 " It is the proper background. But we must 
 see her well married before long." 
 
 " My niece has had her opportunities," said 
 aunt Cornelia, drawing back with dignity. 
 
 " No doubt. But you have kept her out of 
 the world." 
 
 This was unjust to Miss Cornelia, who replied, 
 " Charlotte has seen a great deal of general so- 
 
 o o 
 
 ciety. She has met many pleasant people." 
 
 Mrs. Bisbee recognized the euphemism with 
 relish. "Ah, men, you mean. Nobody good 
 enough for her, I suppose. Not till God make 
 men of some other metal than earth, eh ? " 
 
 " I should hardly put it that way," said Miss 
 Cornelia. 
 
 " Nor I, either," said Mrs. Bisbee heartily.
 
 25 VAN HATTEN PARK. 63 
 
 " I have never believed in putting it that way. 
 But we must look about us, you and I." 
 
 Miss Cornelia did not enter into this partner 
 ship with enthusiasm. " I have always believed 
 that time would take care of such matters." 
 
 " Not at all. It is circumstances, and cir 
 cumstances can be manipulated." 
 
 Aunt Cornelia did not know what to say to 
 this ; she had never before heard such a remark. 
 
 After Mrs. Bisbee had gone, Miss Cornelia 
 summoned courage to say, " Do you altogether 
 like her, dear ? Is n t she a little too a little 
 lacking in I find it difficult to express my 
 self." 
 
 " Yes, dear aunt, she is. She is a Bohemian, 
 of upper Bohemia." 
 
 " A little " - 
 
 " Rowdy ! " laughed Charlotte. 
 
 " Oh, I should hardly wish to use so strong a 
 word. A little given to exaggeration, I should 
 call her." Aunt Cornelia was delicate accuracy 
 itself. " Says some things that are unneces 
 sary." This was the good lady s strongest 
 word of criticism, used especially of literature. 
 Bad taste or bad morals were alike to Miss 
 Cornelia unnecessary. " But, then," she added, 
 " you say she has been a good many years a 
 widow." 
 
 As for Mrs. Bisbee, on her return home, she
 
 64 TUE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 said to Mr. Pilkington a remarkably clover 
 thin" 1 about Miss Coverdale s aunt, so clever 
 
 O 
 
 that it made the old gentleman blink, and say, 
 " Well, well ! " It shall not be repeated here, 
 for a half hour later Mrs. Bisbee had thought 
 it over and was sorry that she had said it. She 
 was a woman of a kind heart and a sharp 
 tongue, which kept her perpetually in a state 
 of repentance and reparation. The next time 
 that she saw Charlotte, she retrieved herself by 
 speaking of Miss Cornelia with such heartiness 
 and acuteness as made Charlotte look at her 
 with admiration. She had not expected the 
 two to like each other at first sight. But Mrs. 
 Bisbee had gone unerringly to aunt Cornelia s 
 strong points, with the same insight by which 
 she had detected her foibles. 
 
 Meanwhile Miss Cornelia was striving hero 
 ically to become wonted to New York. Char 
 lotte found that so long as her aunt remained at 
 home she was tolerably content. The life of the 
 streets, an increasing delight to Charlotte, ex 
 cited in her aunt only terror and pity. " Thanks 
 be to a merciful Providence," murmured the old 
 lady when safely across the stream of Broad 
 way ; while on every side she saw sights to con 
 fuse her sense of a merciful Providence. Neg 
 lected children, the unwashed and unkissed, 
 were her special anxiety. She would go home
 
 25 VAN UATTEN PARK. 65 
 
 to think for hours after, of a certain little news 
 boy with lines in his forehead, and a sharp 
 elbow pricking through his jacket. One danced 
 up to her with an evening paper, and while she 
 answered kindly, " No, dear ! " she said to Char 
 lotte, " He has a nice little face. I hope he will 
 grow up to be a good man." Charlotte hoped 
 so, indeed. " I think I must give him a cent," 
 pleaded aunt Cornelia, half ashamed. " He 
 couldn t expect me to carry a pink paper, 
 could he, dear ? " 
 
 " I would take his paper, aunt Cornelia," 
 said Charlotte. " He is a little business man." 
 
 " I hope he goes to bed early," aunt Cornelia 
 ended. 
 
 The maimed, the halt, and the blind upon the 
 streets rent the heart of aunt Cornelia. She 
 wanted them sent to their respective institu 
 tions, and begged Charlotte to look up the regu 
 lations. The fruit venders at the corners she 
 took under her protection, wondering if the 
 day s sales had been good, if 011 that day the 
 apples were specking fast, and dreading to think 
 that probably these wan Italians lived on their 
 cast-off .fruit. The condition of the streets 
 themselves outraged aunt Cornelia s sensibili 
 ties. " Shiftless and thriftless," she pronounced 
 a city which could not keep itself clean. 
 
 Charlotte followed her aunt s observations
 
 66 THE PETKIE ESTATE. 
 
 and conclusions thoughtfully ; while aunt Cor 
 nelia ventured less and less into the region be 
 yond Van llatten Park, Charlotte was drawn 
 day by day more strongly into the outer life of 
 the city.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " WHAT TO DO ?" 
 
 IT was a bright Sunday morning in Novem 
 ber when Charlotte, 011 her way home from 
 church, dropped in to see her cousins, the Hath- 
 aways. She found the Sunday family group, 
 which at once fell into a little audience, calling 
 for an account of Charlotte since last they met. 
 Sue by and by detached herself from the group 
 and complimented her cousin upon her fine 
 color. 
 
 " Walking against the wind, Sue, that is all." 
 
 " You look ready for anything." 
 
 " That is it, exactly. Advise me, friends." 
 Charlotte gave a happy toss of her head, this 
 time in the direction of John Hathaway. 
 "What should I do next?" It was a serious 
 challenge for advice from him. He had had 
 first to look at her, then to hear her question ; 
 consequently, his wife was ready before him. 
 
 " You will find enough to do when the season 
 fairly begins. You will be invited everywhere, 
 knowing the people you do, to start with.
 
 G8 THE I ETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 "When the whirl begins " the burden of that 
 period could be expressed only by the sigh of 
 martyrdom. " When you once begin " the 
 rest was unutterable. Charlotte s eyes shone, 
 but Sue mistook them. " Ah, you won t care 
 so much about it after a winter or two. Then 
 you will simply know that it is your duty. I 
 go about, and make an effort, simply for my 
 children s good. They must have a place in the 
 world." 
 
 Truth alloyed with worldliness had many 
 times set Charlotte thinking since she had 
 taken up her abode in New York. 
 
 Still John Hathaway had not answered her 
 challenge, and she looked towards him once 
 more. 
 
 " "Well, Charlotte, if you were a man, I should 
 say that you had enough to do to take care of 
 your property." 
 
 " But being a woman " 
 
 " I suppose you will leave it to lawyers and 
 agents." 
 
 " I have, completely, thus far. I don t know 
 what my property is. They talk a great deal 
 about the Petrie estate, but I have no idea 
 what it looks like. It all seems like a dream, 
 my inheriting cousin James Petrie s money." 
 
 " I should think it was a very pleasant 
 dream," said Mrs. Hathaway comfortably.
 
 " WHAT TO DO?" 69 
 
 " I wish I could have known him. It keeps 
 me feeling ungrateful and unfilial, that I was 
 nothing to him." 
 
 " Oh, I call that sentimental," said Sue. 
 
 " Yes, I know it is. I know that I was the 
 only one to inherit the money. I should feel 
 differently if I were depriving any one else of 
 it. I shall try to use it well, for his sake ; I 
 shall try to have it reach the right people." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hathaway looked at each other 
 and thought of Waring. 
 
 " I know the property is largely real estate in 
 New York," Charlotte continued. 
 
 " Down town, on the east side." 
 
 " I want to see it." 
 
 "You d better not." 
 
 " Why do you say that ? " 
 
 " You might not think your wealth such a 
 pleasant dream, that s all." 
 
 " Tell me " - 
 
 " When your cousin sent over money for 
 American investment, his agents over here put 
 it into real estate of the most paying kind, tene 
 ment houses, that is, down town. Your cousin 
 knew nothing about it. Talk about absentee 
 landlordism ! We ve got all the evils of it 
 right here at our doors. Your cousin only 
 knew he got a big interest on his money. So 
 will you."
 
 70 THE PETtilE ESTATE. 
 
 " I have read a great deal about New York 
 tenement houses," said Charlotte solemnly. 
 
 "Better not read any more, then." 
 
 " Don t be fastening your wraps, Charlotte. 
 Stay to dinner," said Mrs. Hathaway. 
 
 " Not to-day, Sue. The servants will wait for 
 me, and they go out on Sunday." 
 
 " Dear me ! I hope you re not beginning by 
 being afraid of your servants." 
 
 Charlotte had begun by being business-like 
 with her servants. Having been a worker her 
 self, she protected her servants leisure as she 
 had wished her own to be respected. More 
 over, she often told herself that it was a weak 
 ness of her character to be easily just and ten 
 der to inferiors, and with a greater effort to 
 deal magnanimously with equals and superiors. 
 
 " Don t think they are always to have their 
 own way even if you have promised them 
 some things. I have had some experience," 
 Mrs. Hathaway continued. The advice of her 
 cousin was to Charlotte, at times, the most de 
 lectable and characteristic thing she had found ; 
 at other times it was like the humming of a 
 mosquito in her ear. Her face flushed, and she 
 gathered the fur about her throat with decision. 
 
 " 1 would n t let those tenement houses weigh 
 on your mind, Charlotte," said Hathaway, fol 
 lowing her to the door. "Are you walking 
 home?"
 
 u WHAT TO DO?" 71 
 
 " Yes, I must," said Charlotte. Under stress 
 of thought, walking was her relief. 
 
 " Then let me walk with you." 
 
 She hardly noticed what he said, as she spoke 
 quickly. " Then I am one of the people to 
 blame. I can fasten the blame on myself. It 
 is I who must do something." 
 
 " There is not much use. It won t do to 
 look too closely into one s investments." 
 
 " But are n t we bound to know what our 
 money is doing ? If it is not idle, it must be 
 working for good or evil. I would rather have 
 my capital tied up in an old stocking than " 
 
 " In some Western mortgages," Hathaway 
 supplied. " I don t much blame you," he said, 
 admiring the vagaries of a generous woman. 
 
 " Have I Western mortgages ? " 
 
 " I don t know how many just at present. I 
 do know your cousin s agents have piled up his 
 money for him out there, though. They have 
 held mortgages at high interest, and then, if 
 harvests fail, you have a neat foreclosure, and 
 have made well on your investment. It is an in 
 iquitous proceeding, morally considered, but to 
 refuse time on a mortgage is no crime except to 
 a man s conscience. Business cynicism is likely 
 to rule out conscience. But you can understand 
 why I advise you not to know too much about 
 your tenements and mortgages." Ho went on
 
 72 THE PETE IE ESTATE. 
 
 talking, but Charlotte barely heard him. " The 
 West is more than half pathetic, after all. Now 
 and then there is a boom, but I have happened 
 to see it on the off years." And he described 
 the premature birth and death of a Western 
 town. 
 
 " And I have been to church confessing 1 my 
 sins," murmured Charlotte. 
 
 John Hathaway laughed at her sins. 
 
 " My sins, negligences, and ignorances. And 
 here was this great sin upon me ! Oh, don t 
 you understand how I feel ? " 
 
 Hathaway said, with all serioiisness, " Yes, I 
 understand, because I know the kind of woman 
 you are. Thank Heaven I do ! " 
 
 " I sat and folded my hands, and asked what 
 I should do next." 
 
 " Do you know any better now ? You ought 
 to talk with Waring. He s full of these sub 
 jects. The time is out of joint, and his paper 
 was born to set it right. He used to think so, 
 at any rate. He is losing courage, but he is 
 full of ideas. I am too busy a man to have 
 ideas. I have got down to minding my own 
 business. That seems a rather low level to a 
 woman like you, Charlotte, I dare say. I am 
 doing no particular harm, and I keep my family 
 going. You would get a great deal more out of 
 Waring than out of me."
 
 " WHAT TO DO?" 73 
 
 The talk lasted till they reached Charlotte s 
 door, when Hathaway shook hands with her 
 earnestly, and turned to hail the next street 
 car. 
 
 Aunt Cornelia and her niece said little at 
 dinner. To introduce the subject that filled 
 Charlotte s thoughts would be only to alarm 
 and bewilder her aunt with additional horrors 
 of New York. They both sat with books after 
 dinner : the older lady, with a view to inducing 
 her Sunday afternoon nap ; the younger, with 
 the vain hope of turning her thoughts into a 
 different channel. There was no repose for 
 her until she had written a brief note, and ad 
 dressed it to the agent of the Petrie estate. It 
 requested him to call upon her immediately. 
 
 The next morning the firm of E. H. Corliss 
 & Sons, in turning over the morning mail, came 
 upon a letter from their new client, Miss Cover- 
 dale, the heir of the Petrie property, which 
 had long been in their hands. E. H. Corliss, 
 Sr., was a sharp-featured old gentleman, who 
 sat at his desk all day and attended strictly to 
 business. The social duties of the office he left 
 to his son, with mingled respect and contempt. 
 His hard mouth would take a humorous twist 
 as he heard suave promises of repairs and gen 
 tle smoothing away of complaints. " It takes 
 Ed to talk em round," the old man would
 
 74 THE PET 111 E ESTATE. 
 
 chuckle, and he would occasionally pay his son 
 the compliment of tolling him that he was not 
 altogether a fool. 
 
 The younger Corliss was a pronounced blonde 
 of forty, with hair parted in the middle, and with 
 fair, drooping mustache. His diamond scarf-pin 
 and ring excited the derision of his father, who 
 yet suspected that they might have their value 
 in interviews with clients. The son s favorite 
 gesture was a light brushing of some part of his 
 dress ; his attention being frequently divided be 
 tween his tenant s demands and a thread on his 
 coat-sleeve. The younger Corliss not only re 
 ceived visitors at the office 1 , but was detailed to 
 make the visits of the firm to their clients. In 
 such duties he felt that he distinguished himself. 
 He was knowing in social matters, and flattered 
 himself that he was at ease in any circle. And 
 indeed lie had been mistaken for a gentleman 
 in several strata of society. " Why don t he 
 marry a rich girl ? " his father had said to Mrs. 
 Corliss, and Mrs. Corliss had said to her hus 
 band for the past ten years. Now, their son was 
 a man of imagination as well as of undeniable 
 business faculty. In his way " Ed " Corliss was 
 a dreamer. They were not poetic fancies that 
 haunted him : they were visions of " control of 
 property, of rents flowing into his own pockets, 
 of leases in his own right, and of a check-book
 
 u WHAT TO DO?" 75 
 
 powerful as Aladdin s lamp. The day that it 
 had transpired that the Petrie estate, long under 
 the care of his firm, had fallen to a distant rela 
 tive, an unmarried woman, Corliss s imagination 
 had caught fire. The thought that inflamed it 
 was no less bold than that which long ago fired 
 one Malvolio, steward to the fair Olivia. 
 
 When Miss Charlotte Coverdale requested an 
 interview with the firm, Corliss joyfully obeyed 
 the summons. There was need of energy and 
 discretion, and need also of his best manners 
 and appearance ; this he fully realized. He with 
 drew to an inner sanctum of towels and hair 
 brushes, and emerging after some time, walked 
 out of the office superior to the smile of his cyni 
 cal elder. A half hour later he was shown into 
 Miss Coverdale s reception-room at the right of 
 the door, her favorite morning room. He se 
 lected unerringly the most comfortable chair and 
 fluno- himself back in it, while he rolled his head 
 
 O 
 
 about for a survey of the room. His impres 
 sions were not to be analyzed, but they may 
 be registered somewhat as follows : a desk, with 
 many pigeon-holes and papers ; some half-fin 
 ished embroidery trailing over a chair, a hint 
 of feminine softness ; the morning paper, two 
 morning papers, tumbled and read, depress 
 ing ; a paper-covered novel opened face down 
 ward, better. These impressions produced a
 
 70 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 blur in the mind of Corliss, and he was in no 
 wise prepared for Miss Coverdale when she en 
 tered, lie sprang to his feet from his deep 
 chair, and accomplished his greeting s in what he 
 recognized as his most off-hand, felicitous man 
 ner. Miss Coverdale Lade him be seated. He 
 sank again into the low easy-chair, and disposed 
 himself comfortably. 
 
 " And how do you like New York ? " he asked 
 airily. 
 
 Charlotte seized the lead, and at once laid be 
 fore him the subject of the interview. Corliss 
 listened with professional smile and with inter 
 jections of affable assent. u Why, certainly." 
 " Oh, yes, that s a fact." " Of course, of 
 course." 
 
 " And now what can I do ? " said Charlotte, 
 with determination. 
 
 " What can you do? " Corliss settled himself 
 more comfortably in his chair. 
 
 " Insufferable creature ! " thought Charlotte, 
 but her too lovely and appealing eyes did not 
 change their expression. Their earnestness fas 
 tened him to a serious answer. 
 
 " Really, Miss Coverdale, there is nothing to 
 be done. You can t improve those people. They 
 never will live any other way. They don t want 
 anything better." lie picked a thread from the 
 carpet, and twirled it between his fingers.
 
 " WHAT TO DO?" 11 
 
 " But if these houses are so wretched, why 
 am I paid such rents for them ? " 
 
 " They are worth it. You don t regulate the 
 price. It regulates itself. It s according to the 
 demand, according to the crowding. You d 
 hardly believe it," said Corliss gayly, " how they 
 pack in." 
 
 " I have read of such things," said Charlotte 
 earnestly. "I must go and see my houses." 
 
 " Oh, I would n t advise it. Your houses 
 are n t so bad as that. You would n t find it 
 pleasant, though. We look after everything. 
 The owners of all that property leave it alone. 
 They re in Europe, a good many of them ; 
 they re innocent enough about what s going on. 
 Some of em live out West. The up-town folks 
 don t cross a certain line east and west here in 
 the city once in a lifetime. They ve got their 
 agents to act for them. We act for you," he 
 added briskly. 
 
 Charlotte looked at him, but her look passed 
 across and beyond him. 
 
 " Could I go there to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Seriously, I don t advise you to, Miss Cover- 
 dale. We will do anything you say, but a lady, 
 you know, down there Well, you d find a 
 great many bad smells. We 11 send you up 
 plans of the buildings. You would find they d 
 do exactly as well."
 
 78 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 "No," said Charlotte gently. "I must go. 
 You will send some one from your office to guide 
 me ? And I will take a maid with me." 
 
 " Oh, if it comes to that, I shall be only too 
 happy to escort you myself," and Corliss Lowed 
 with what gallantry he could, from his low chair. 
 If go she would, he bethought him that it were 
 well he should be at hand to correct her impres 
 sions. Moreover, he was satisfied that he had 
 fathomed Miss Coverdale. " All women are 
 alike," was the axiom that expressed his disre 
 spect for the sex. lie classified Miss Coverdale 
 without difficulty ; a restive, uncomfortable 
 woman, opposed to taking things as she found 
 them, which was the secret of his own philosophy. 
 Some further acquaintance with the world would 
 tame her ideals. She would not fly so high, 
 after a little contact with the real thing. The 
 virtues of such a woman were largely a matter 
 of sentiment, more or less morbid, and for the 
 rest, a matter of circumstances. 
 
 Meanwhile, Charlotte s eyes were bent upon 
 him with beseeching that he would interest him 
 self in the subject heavy upon her heart. He 
 saw in her look only an invitation to him to in 
 terest himself in her. They were all alike, he 
 reflected, coquettes, high and low. One would 
 have relished his interpretation of Miss Cover- 
 dale s conduct after the door closed upon him.
 
 "WHAT TO DO?" 79 
 
 She walked to the window, and threw it up with 
 force, letting escape the trail of perfumery and 
 tobacco that her visitor had left behind him. 
 
 Corliss was putting 1 a severe strain upon 
 one of Charlotte s principles of conduct. She 
 struggled, if she had an end in view, to prevent 
 personal prejudice from blinding or hindering 
 her. She needed Corliss s services for a time, 
 and in spite of his manners he might be made 
 to answer her purpose. 
 
 She returned, on the following day, after a 
 four hours absence, and sat pale and quiet 
 through the evening, holding a book which she 
 did not read. Mrs. Bisbee dropped in, and at a 
 word let fall by Charlotte she took a text and 
 preached a vigorous discourse upon socialism. 
 She combated its heresies with at least seven 
 heads and an application. 
 
 Charlotte was silent. She had received that 
 day a great shock. She was as yet too be 
 numbed to think or speak. " What to do ? 
 What to do?"
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A RAINY AFTERNOON. 
 
 GRACE freed herself from mackintosh and 
 overshoes, and took the long pin deliberately 
 from her sailor hat. AVhen Grace came to see 
 Charlotte, she made preparations for staying a 
 long time. 
 
 " I don t believe you want me, cousin Char 
 lotte. Yon are busy, I know yon are," said 
 Grace, comfortably settling herself to her visit. 
 " Yon need not pay any attention to me. Jnst 
 let me sit here." 
 
 Charlotte looked at her, and thought Grace 
 was never prettier than in the rain. She was 
 one of the enviable people whose hair, in wet 
 weather, plays in little rings about the face, and 
 whose color grows rich, and skin velvety under 
 the dampness. "I am perfectly drenched," was 
 her way of expressing it. " Let me curl down 
 by the fire." 
 
 Looking into the fire led Grace to medita 
 tion. " Yon are awfully good to me, cousin 
 Charlotte. Papa says that between yon and
 
 A RAINY AFTEENOON. 81 
 
 Mr. Waring he has hopes of me. I am sure I 
 don t know what he hopes ! " 
 
 " Great things, no doubt," said Charlotte, but 
 did not preach. She let Grace dream. 
 
 " Mr. Waring wonders if he is never to meet 
 my heroine. lie says he begins to think she 
 is a creature of my imagination. He says that 
 I have imagination," she added with sweet so 
 lemnity, and waited for Charlotte to agree. 
 
 " Does he mean that I could write stories ? " 
 pursued Grace under her breath. 
 
 " No, I think not," replied Charlotte care 
 fully. " The best use of imagination is for 
 sympathy ; for art, after that." Charlotte felt 
 her way inquiringly. " Imagination touched 
 with love, that is sympathy ; and that itself 
 makes an art, the art of living with others. 
 Some people give that up, and devote imagina 
 tion solely to what they call the Fine Arts ! " 
 Charlotte had never fluency in setting forth her 
 thought, but Grace followed it with a little knot 
 in her brow, and said after a pause, " Then I am 
 to keep my imagination for everyday use, just 
 to make myself happy, and other people. Do 
 you think that is what he means, when he says 
 I have imagination ? " and Grace looked up to 
 Charlotte with a face so youthful in its helpless 
 candor and so radiant with an inner light that 
 Charlotte could only bend and kiss her in reply.
 
 82 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 Grace turned quickly away, and laughed not 
 quite naturally. " The funniest thing hap 
 pened," she said. " Papa and Mr. Waring 
 have had a quarrel. You know Tuesday was 
 election day, and he and papa have talked no 
 end about municipal reform. Oh, I know what 
 municipal reform is ; I have listened. This 
 was a very important election, and what do 
 you think papa did ? He took Ned and Patty 
 out into the country for a holiday, and did n t 
 vote at all. And that night Mr. Waring came 
 in to talk over the election, and when he found 
 papa had n t voted, well, you can imagine ! 
 I simply can t describe it. I never saw him so 
 angry in my life. It was n t funny a bit for a 
 few minutes." 
 
 Charlotte began to suspect that she, too, had 
 an imagination, for she discovered that anec 
 dotes of Waring were suggestive. She was a 
 trifle vexed to find herself falling into reveries 
 about a man whom she had never seen. One 
 moment Waring appeared the chaffing elder 
 brother ; the next moment she concluded that 
 he had a schoolmasterly interest in the young 
 girl s mind. Just as her school-days were ended, 
 Grace s intellect was beginning to feel itself. 
 Plainly it owed not a little of its awakening 
 to the stimulus of this devoted family friend. 
 Again, it appeared to Charlotte that Waring
 
 A RAINY AFTERNOON. 83 
 
 was indulging himself in the most selfish of all 
 pleasures, in watching the unfolding of a young 
 girl s heart as well as of her mind. By what 
 law of nature did it come to pass that Charlotte 
 would rather have held any one of these views 
 than have believed Waring in love with Grace ? 
 Still the confiding monologue flowed on. Grace 
 dwelt upon insignificant words of Waring s, re 
 peating them with loving reverence. 
 
 " He says that my mind needs discipline. 
 What can he find so interesting about my 
 mind ? " said the child, with lamentable lack of 
 candor. 
 
 " What do /find so interesting in it ? " asked 
 Charlotte in a tone intended to reduce senti 
 ment. 
 
 " He thinks I am idle." 
 
 " Admirable ! " 
 
 " But I am always doing something," Grace 
 pleaded. " Mr. Waring is hard to please," she 
 sighed ; in the affluence of her love she could 
 afford to find fault with him. " You ought to 
 hear his opinion of the school I went to. He 
 wrote an editorial about girls schools in New 
 York. And yet he does n t believe in these new 
 ideas about education. lie says they have n t 
 turned out the right kind of woman yet. I 
 should like to have him see you ! " she said glow 
 ingly.
 
 84 THE PET ME ESTATE. 
 
 " Oh, I beg of you, Grace ! " 
 
 " lie s dying to meet you ; " which was Grace s 
 paraphrase of Waring s somewhat indifferent 
 " Am I ever to be permitted to meet Miss Cov- 
 erdale ? " He had, in fact, rejoiced that he was 
 evidently not often to encounter a person who 
 was so uncomfortably associated with his own 
 fortunes, and who, a priori, was not likely to be 
 of much intrinsic interest. 
 
 " I often tell him things you say," continued 
 Grace, fixing upon Charlotte the soft gaze of 
 adoring girlhood. Grace s paraphrase of Char 
 lotte, however, was less successful than her ren 
 dering of Waring. It conveyed none of Char 
 lotte s personality, and failed utterly to touch 
 his imagination. One woman can rarely be 
 trusted to report the charm of another. 
 
 Grace had heard discussed the history of the 
 Petrie estate, and Waring s share in the story 
 had served to heighten her romantic interest in 
 him. She hoped that the will would never be 
 found. Waring in his present position gratified 
 her imagination far more than Waring a com 
 monplace owner of stocks and bonds. There 
 were tangled strands of feeling in her mind as 
 she whispered to herself that the peculiar rela 
 tion between Waring and Charlotte must always 
 keep a distance between them. Grace was as 
 yet not profound in the laws of romance ; she 
 had not mastered the law of barriers.
 
 A RAINY AFTERNOON. 85 
 
 Mrs. Hathaway had looked keenly at her hus 
 band when the Petrie will had been mentioned. 
 " If that will had been found," she said impres 
 sively, " Grace should have married Richard 
 Waring. I should have brought it about." 
 
 " What if they find it yet ? " 
 
 Mrs. Hathaway was herself quite inclined to 
 believe this possible, but it was the habit of 
 years to answer her husband with petty contra 
 diction, uttered with perfect good-nature. She 
 and her husband seldom quarreled, but they also 
 seldom agreed. 
 
 " I often tell him things you say," Grace 
 murmured now. She was half kneeling by 
 Charlotte s side, leaning one arm upon her lap, 
 and looking up to her with open love and ad 
 miration. Yet it was not the thought of Char 
 lotte that made the girl s face beautiful. Grace 
 had been an attractive child, a pretty girl, and 
 now for the first time gave promise of being a 
 beautiful woman. In her face, which had been 
 a lovely blank, unwritten by experience, un- 
 traversed by emotion, the miracle of transfigura 
 tion had taken place. It had subdued features 
 to expression, heightened color, given new char 
 acter to the smile, at once new suggestion and 
 new mystery to the eyes. The youth of Grace 
 gave her face heavenly transparency ; worldly 
 experience had drawn no curtain. Charlotte
 
 86 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 looked into her eyes with unconscious reflection 
 of their radiance ; but by degrees a grave won 
 der dimmed her face again. Was Grace de 
 ceiving herself ? Was this a love with 110 root 
 in reality, flourishing like a beautiful orchid, 
 the most imaginative product of nature, and 
 nourished, like it, upon tropical air? She en 
 couraged Grace to talk to her, for she still 
 watched for a clew. The girl s recollection of 
 details moved Charlotte to wonder at the super 
 natural memory of lovers. She did not know 
 how many times every conversation with War 
 ing was repeated in Grace s imagination ; how 
 she planned things to say to him, and not only 
 dramatized future conversations, but went over 
 past meetings and even filled out what might 
 have been said. Not to her own heart did 
 Grace confess the truth, that the reality of a 
 conversation with Waring fell below her dreams. 
 After she had seen him, it took her a little time 
 to work up an interview into something roman 
 tic. Words of no particular wit or wisdom she 
 passed through the alembic of her heart, and 
 Converted into oracles. 
 
 Charlotte still looked anxiously at Grace. 
 She perversely remembered a grotesque word 
 that she had heard applied in similar circum 
 stances : normalkrankheitsverlaitf. She also be 
 thought her of the unfeeling wisdom of Dr.
 
 A EAINY AFTERNOON. 87 
 
 Johnson : " Many fancied that they were in 
 love, when in truth they were only idle." She 
 suddenly changed the subject, or supposed that 
 she had changed it. 
 
 " Grace, are you studying anything now 
 adays ? " 
 
 " I have French lessons, and mamma wants 
 me to give a great deal of time to my music." 
 
 " How would you like to study something 
 with me?" 
 
 " What fun ! History, or Literature ! I 
 love Literature. I had Universal Literature at 
 school, you know. I graduated last June." 
 
 " Or Latin ? " 
 
 " I studied Latin a year," with a droop of the 
 voice. 
 
 " What did you say about mental disci 
 pline ? " 
 
 " Oh, that is what Mr. Waring says I need, 
 mental discipline. Yes, I would rather study 
 Latin than anything else." 
 
 So Charlotte made use of the lever that moves 
 the world, and planned the Latin lessons. She 
 then led Grace away to her own affairs and told 
 her that she was going to Mrs. Appleby s that 
 evening. 
 
 Grace sighed. " Mrs. Appleby is a very de 
 sirable person to know," she said with serious 
 ness. " She knows everybody and she can go
 
 88 THE PETE IE ESTATE. 
 
 anywhere. You are fortunate, cousin Char 
 lotte." 
 
 Charlotte smiled at Grace s worldly lore, and 
 sat with amused interest under her instruction. 
 
 " She was an Esterbrook," said Grace impres 
 sively. " But of course you know." 
 
 " Mrs. Appleby was an old school friend of 
 my mother s. I have visited her often in my 
 vacations." Charlotte had never before had an 
 outside view of Mrs. Appleby. Her sojourns 
 had been intimate family visits at her old 
 friend s summer home. Grace was able to state 
 with accuracy Mrs. Appleby s place in New 
 York society. 
 
 " There is a great deal of money in the fam 
 ily, in all branches of it. There are no end 
 of connections, all rich." Grace paused for 
 emphasis. " Think what it must be to have no 
 poor relations. But that shows you what sort 
 of family she belongs to, does n t it ? " 
 
 Charlotte nodded, smiling, and listened for 
 more of Grace s capable characterization. 
 
 " Mrs. Appleby is very independent. She 
 does n t mind knowing everybody, in Europe or 
 America. She can afford to. Mr. Waring says 
 she belongs to the great world. "We belong to 
 the little world, our family. Charlotte mar 
 veled at her social insight. 
 
 " I have heard people say that Mrs. Appleby
 
 A EAINY AFTERNOON. 89 
 
 was too kind-hearted, not exclusive enough. 
 But there s no need of her being exclusive, 
 don t you see ? It s we that have to be exclu 
 sive. Oh, we are not fashionable, cousin Char 
 lotte : only longing to be. Mamma says it all 
 depends on the way I marry. When she gets 
 discouraged, she says it will take another gen 
 eration. I would rather leave it to Ned and 
 Patty, then." Grace leaned her cheek upon 
 her hand, and dreamed again. 
 
 " Tell me more about Mrs. Appleby," said 
 Charlotte. 
 
 " For one thing she entertains all the dis 
 tinguished foreigners. That is the thing that 
 makes you in New York. I don t think we 
 ever had an Englishman in our house," said 
 Grace with naivete. " Another thing, Mrs. 
 Appleby is a great patroness of every sort of 
 philanthropic and literary thing. You are for 
 ever seeing her name. She is always having 
 lectures in her parlors, and she is always giving 
 receptions to authors and such people. Oh, 
 how I should love to go there ! " 
 
 "You shall." 
 
 " It would be very complicated." 
 
 " Not at all." 
 
 " Ah, cousin Charlotte, you don t know." 
 
 " I know Mrs. Appleby." 
 
 " Mr. Waring goes a great deal to Mrs. Ap-
 
 90 THE PETIUE ESTATE. 
 
 pleby s. But he would never think of it ; it 
 never would enter his head to introduce our 
 family to the Applebys. Of course, you are 
 more thoughtful." There had been times when 
 Grace had not found Waring " thoughtful." 
 There was so much in this speech of hers that 
 she herself fell to thinking about it. 
 
 " How it rains still ! " she said suddenly. " I 
 should never have talked to you so this after 
 noon, you dear, if it had n t been for the rain 
 and the open fire. I don t know why I have 
 talked so. Is aunt Cornelia in her room ? I 
 am going to make her a visit, too. She is such 
 a dear." 
 
 A dialogue between aunt Cornelia and her 
 favorite Grace was one of the prettiest conver 
 sations imaginable. But on this particular after 
 noon, the subjects they talked about were all 
 remote from our story. Grace Hathaway was a 
 new element in aunt Cornelia s life, that helped 
 to reconcile her to New York. She was not 
 fond of her niece, Mrs. Hathaway, though she 
 never offered criticism beyond saying gently to 
 Charlotte, " Her ways are not our ways." Oc 
 casionally, after a visit to Mrs. Hathaway s 
 house, she went so far as to call her k> a person 
 of poor judgment." Sue was no more cordial 
 in her regard for her aunt. u Oh, dear! there 
 is aunt Cornelia. I know I ouulit to ix> to see
 
 A RAINY AFTERNOON. 91 
 
 her. But what time do I have, I should like to 
 have you tell me." Mrs. Hathaway s panto 
 mime of the overburdened New York woman 
 was admirable. It was perfectly true that she 
 had far too much to do, and was a tired woman 
 a good part of the time. " Then aunt Cornelia 
 has such an effect upon me. She is very sweet, 
 and she never says anything, but she always 
 makes me feel as - if I were a little girl still. 
 Yet I leave it to you if I was ever the girl to 
 be put down by her aunts." Charlotte laughed, 
 and Sue finished with, " Oh, you are her favor 
 ite ; anybody can see that. And now she seems 
 to be taking to Grace, too." Five minutes later 
 Mrs. Hathaway s thoughts came to the surface 
 again. " Aunt Cornelia owns her house, but I 
 suppose she has only a very small property be 
 sides." 
 
 Oddly enough, the same thought was working 
 in aunt Cornelia s mind after Grace Hathaway 
 left her that rainy afternoon.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 AT MRS. APPLEBY S. 
 
 MRS. APPLEBY S parlors were beginning to 
 hum with the industry of conversation. Most 
 of her guests were practiced talkers, who took 
 up the business of the evening with alacrity and 
 good-will. Some were old friends, who snatched 
 eagerly at each other, and, if not circumvented 
 by Mrs. Appleby, spent the evening together 
 upon a sheltered sofa. Many guests were ac 
 quaintances, who met impersonally and super 
 ficially, perhaps ; but in any case, wits were 
 quickened and hearts were warmed by an even 
 ing at Mrs. Appleby s. That keen-witted and 
 warm-hearted lady entertained with great catho 
 licity, and a third class of guests were always 
 strangers. She was an able and zealous hostess. 
 Her highest delight was to develop the possibil 
 ities of pleasure that lie in human intercourse. 
 " "While we are It ere" she would say cheerfully, 
 " let us get as much out of it as we can." " While 
 we are here," a phrase often on Mrs. Appleby s 
 lips, expressed admirably her relation to this
 
 AT MRS. APPLES Y^S. 93 
 
 world and the next. Mrs. Appleby never went 
 slumming 1 , but there was not a better lover of 
 her kind in New York. She specialized her 
 philanthropy, and did only that for which she 
 had a gift. As she stood to receive her guests, 
 her hearty, hospitable presence, her energetic 
 welcome, her warm, magnetic hand-grasp, com 
 municated an enthusiasm for social intercourse 
 that penetrated her dullest guest. 
 
 " Did you ever see Mrs. Appleby galvanize a 
 bore ? " said Richard Waring to his neighbor. 
 " Bores she keeps a sharp eye on, for bores 
 propagate. One bore makes another in no time. 
 It s a blight on a company that only Mrs. Ap 
 pleby can cope with. She will make him out 
 with the best he has in him. And how he will 
 enjoy himself ! See a bore go off hugging him 
 self after he has told his one good story, and 
 you appreciate Mrs. Appleby." 
 
 When the credentials of strangers had been 
 once examined, Mrs. Appleby strove to make 
 them acquaintances, and when she saw acquaint 
 ances ripen into friends, her happiness was great. 
 She was besieged by social schemers ; and in a 
 few cases her kindness of heart got the better 
 of her judgment ; but her good offices were not 
 for the vulgar, and they did not cling long to 
 her skirts. 
 
 The rooms in which Mrs. Appleby received
 
 94 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 her guests had a peculiarly American character ; 
 that is, there was scarcely an American object 
 in them. In New York, the products of the 
 world assemble, and the far East and the far 
 West met to adorn Mrs. Appleby s house. The 
 traveled American has " picked up " his pos 
 sessions in every quarter of the globe, and comes 
 home bearing his treasure-trove through the 
 custom-house, in uneasy enjoyment of it until 
 he has set it along his walls, beyond injury from 
 breakage or tariff. Mrs. Appleby s parlors were 
 hushed in sound and rich in color with rugs and 
 hangings from the Orient. Her tables and 
 chairs were from old England or old Italy ; 
 casts and photographs, carvings and bronzes, 
 were from all the world round. Every article 
 had its history. Mrs. Appleby was an adven 
 turous traveler ; and she delighted to relate the 
 .exploits by which her booty was won. 
 
 " Have you ever set Mrs. Appleby off on a 
 voyage autour de ma chambre ? " asked one 
 guest of another. " She could entertain you for 
 a thousand and one nights." 
 
 Among Mrs. Appleby s friends this evening, 
 the one of whom she had a special care was 
 Charlotte Coverdale, the daughter of Mary Cov- 
 erdale, long since dead. Mrs. Appleby was 
 gratified by Charlotte s appearance as she en 
 tered the room. She was not only beautiful,
 
 AT MES. APPLEBY S. 95 
 
 and beautifully dressed, but she had the look 
 and bearing which her hostess demanded. That 
 people should look happy, Mrs. Appleby ex 
 acted as their contribution to society. She even 
 declared that by persistently looking happy, one 
 could go far to attain a sunny temper. " Study 
 it before your mirror, my dear," she would say 
 to a young girl. " It is the way to beauty." 
 Charlotte pleased her old friend by looking 
 charmingly happy. Outwardly lovely and se 
 rene, she was nevertheless advancing with a flut 
 tering heart. Mrs. Appleby thought rapidly, 
 " Ah, good blood tells in entering a room." It 
 was indeed good blood, and not experience, that 
 sustained Charlotte in this ordeal. She dreaded 
 and longed for the world ; accepted an invita 
 tion joyously, and tremblingly abided the conse 
 quences. Whatever tranquillity of soul was 
 to be obtained from perfect dress, that she had 
 secured for herself. Of all her recent acquaint 
 ances she had found none to pique her interest 
 more than her little Irish dressmaker. Nor had 
 Charlotte herself ever been more quickly and 
 completely comprehended. Her character had 
 been seized and interpreted with rare artistic 
 sense. A curious sympathy set itself up be 
 tween the two women. They were suggestive 
 and stimulating to each other as they discussed 
 the art of dress.
 
 96 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 Before the departure of Charlotte for Mrs. 
 Appleby s reception, Mrs. Bisbee and aunt Cor 
 nelia had passed judgment upon her. 
 
 " But we must not make her vain," said aunt 
 Cornelia softly. 
 
 " Come, come," said Mrs. Bisbee, " a little 
 vanity won t hurt her. A little vanity is good 
 for the complexion. There, upon my word, see 
 the color in her face. Handsome is that hand 
 some does, was the hard maxim I was brought 
 up on, and you see the consequences." Mrs. 
 Bisbee sat erect and tried to give her dress a 
 shape. " It s a pretty gown, dear. It has a 
 character : angelic, but not too angelic ; piquant, 
 but not too piquant. How did she contrive to 
 get the two, your Irishwoman ? " 
 
 A light glance and murmur followed Char 
 lotte s appearance before Mrs. Appleby. In 
 two or three groups the conversation took a 
 new turn : " the Miss Coverdale you have heard 
 of ; " " the Petrie estate, you know ; " " a pretty, 
 old-fashioned story in these dull days." 
 
 At some distance from the hostess there sat 
 on a low sofa, with an attentive listener beside 
 her, one of the notable women of New York. 
 She was a gossip of a high order ; so successful 
 a gossip, in fact, that her admirers were wont 
 to regret in her the waste of a novelist. Mrs. 
 Cricklewood had never committed herself to
 
 AT MRS. APPLEBY S. 97 
 
 print, but enjoyed at her ease a literary reputa 
 tion purely oral. Other people grew old and 
 died ; but not Mrs. Cricklewood. Yet no guest 
 of the present evening could remember her save 
 with the imposing white hair a la Pompadour, 
 and the well-preserved black velvet gown, both 
 of which helped her not a little to carry out her 
 part. Waring was one of Mrs. Cricklewood s 
 favorite listeners. She claimed him wherever 
 they met, and talked long and low to him. She 
 was now relating to him with picturesque and 
 sentimental touches the history of Miss Cover- 
 dale, who had just entered the room. Waring 
 listened, much diverted, to her lively version of 
 a well-known tale. She dropped her narrative 
 at a telling point, and nodded, " To be con 
 tinued." " In fact," she added, " there is no 
 serial of the season that I am more interested in 
 following." She stared at Charlotte through 
 her lorgnette ; but Mrs. Cricklewood was pre 
 pared to defend an honest stare. " The human 
 interest, no more," she maintained. " How 
 does she strike you ? " she said to Waring. 
 
 He looked across the room, intrenched in pre 
 judices. " Give me time," he begged. 
 
 " She looks too happy, too prosperous ; 
 that s it, is n t it ? A man should not look pros 
 perous it s very objectionable ; but in a wo 
 man, not to be tolerated. What is it that clever
 
 98 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 fellow says, a woman, to be interesting, must 
 have had a grief, but never a grievance. That 
 blooming creature has neither griefs nor griev 
 ances, depend upon it. I should like to see her 
 serenity disturbed." It was one of Mrs. Crickle- 
 wood s tricks in conversation to repeat what she 
 had said, petting her phrases, and taking care 
 that her listener should remember them. " Nei 
 ther griefs nor grievances," she concluded once 
 more. " Ah, Mrs. Appleby is introducing our 
 English lion to Miss Coverdale." 
 
 Charlotte liked Mr. Wotton without delay; 
 she went farther, and hoped that he liked her. 
 Some one who had observed Charlotte Coverdale 
 had remarked that she was not a brilliant talker, 
 but that there was always good talk where she 
 was. This observer fell a-thinking of her im 
 age as he had last seen her. There was in his 
 memory the impression of a fine forward pose, 
 of eyes quickly humorous or quickly tender, of 
 listening lips, sensitive and responsive. He re 
 membered the play of feeling across them as a 
 touch of eloquence lighted the story, and he re 
 called the soft sigh with which her pose relaxed, 
 and thoughtfulness settled upon her face as the 
 little tale ended. It occurred to him that here 
 was a woman with finer means of expression than 
 mere speech. This man was not her lover, only 
 her disinterested observer : circumstances had
 
 AT MRS. APPLEBY S. 99 
 
 long ago determined that. Yet chance acquaint 
 ance that he was, he had found her out. So did 
 the Englishman, though without analysis. He 
 modestly and quite wrongly gave her credit for 
 whatever was valuable in the conversation, and 
 bore about with him henceforth a conviction of 
 the intelligence of American women which was 
 somehow inextricably confused with the beauty 
 of their eyes. Mrs. Appleby by and by spirited 
 away the English gentleman, and left Charlotte 
 face to face with an American legislator from 
 the West. This was one of Mrs. Appleby s lit 
 tle effects in the shifting of her guests. Never 
 was mathematician more absorbed in " permuta 
 tions and combinations " than was this hostess. 
 
 The Western gentleman fixed a shrewd look 
 upon Charlotte. 
 
 " Well, what did you make of him? " he asked 
 with simplicity and directness quite equal to the 
 Englishman s. " His notions, now, about free 
 trade. I Ve had some talk with him. But these 
 English are getting their eyes opened. They 
 are coming over here more and more : they re 
 seeing for themselves. After all, blood s stron 
 ger than water. They ve a kind of sneaking 
 fondness for us. They can t help seeing we 
 are a chip of the old block. I was over there 
 this summer, and I was treated like a prince. 
 They like to hear an American talk. They have
 
 100 THE PET II IE ESTATE. 
 
 a great notion of American humor. Now I 
 sometimes make a poor sort of a joke myself, 
 and over there they d take it up and pass it 
 round, and keep that American story, y know, 
 afloat a month. They say we are all humor 
 ists. They say even our women are humorists." 
 Mr. Martin Lowed half facetiously, half chival 
 rously. 
 
 " At least we can laugh at ourselves," said 
 Charlotte. 
 
 " Ah, there, that s it ; there you Ve hit it. 
 That s our strong point. Our sense of humor 
 is going to civilize us. What s humor, after 
 all, but critical insight and all that sort of thing ? 
 What is it but seeing the truth ? We are on 
 the right track as long as we can keep up such 
 a mighty laughing at ourselves as you 11 find 
 in our newspapers from San Francisco to Bos 
 ton. Now what s your opinion ? I d like to 
 hear." 
 
 Mr. Martin threw himself back, prepared to 
 listen, being by conviction and by sentiment a 
 firm believer that women should be " heard." 
 The truth was that Charlotte could not have 
 found in the pages of romance a more knightly 
 regard for her sex than in this crude-spoken 
 American of the age of prose. She was sorry 
 when music interrupted them, and when a long 
 recitation followed. A young lady stepped for-
 
 AT MRS. APPLEBY S. 101 
 
 ward, while the company fell back to the edges of 
 the room. She was attired with obtrusive sim 
 plicity, and in her hand she carried a single rose. 
 She stood still, with downcast eyes, till the hush 
 w r as complete. Then she spoke : " I will say 
 Childe Roland to the dark tower came. 
 
 Mrs. Appleby drew near the door and suf 
 fered acutely while the recitation lasted. She 
 felt victimized as she reviewed the facts in the 
 case. Miss Devine had appeared with a letter 
 of introduction from an amiable woman, well- 
 known in society ; a person with whom Mrs. 
 Appleby was not intimate, but with whom she 
 was in the habit of exchanging small favors and 
 obligations. This lady begged to introduce 
 Miss Devine, a young lady of great talent. If 
 Mrs. Appleby would allow her to recite at one 
 of her receptions, it would be of the greatest 
 benefit to Miss Devine at this, the beginning of 
 her New York season. Mrs. Appleby estimated 
 the young lady pretty accurately at the end of 
 five minutes, but she had not always the heart to 
 act upon her convictions. She held the letter 
 in her hand, and reflected that its writer was on 
 an important committee with herself, that they 
 were constantly meeting, that, in short, it was 
 impossible to offend her. With misgivings she 
 consented that Miss Devine should recite for her 
 guests, and her concern increased when she
 
 102 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 learned that " Browning " was Miss Devine s 
 specialty, " Browning and Delsarte." 
 
 The result justified Mrs. Appleby s fears. A 
 hundred people were held in discomfort for 
 fifteen minutes. Old gentlemen twitched about 
 and looked at the ceiling ; old ladies tapped 
 their fans and looked down upon their laps ; the 
 young people watched and listened and tested 
 their good manners. The face of Charlotte s 
 companion was inscrutable ; while she withdrew 
 into herself and thought comfortably about some 
 thing else. The performance having ended, the 
 gentlemen applauded extravagantly, and the 
 ladies turned to one another with non-committal 
 smiles. 
 
 Conversation did not at once spring back with 
 its former elasticity, and there was presently a 
 movement towards the supper-room, whence the 
 smell of revelry proceeded, a mingled aroma 
 of coffee and roses. Mrs. Appleby took care 
 that Charlotte should meet an author or two, 
 and presented to her first a well-known writer of 
 fiction, a prophet of joylessness ; and then an 
 other, a story-writer who has added to the sum 
 of human happiness. On the return from sup 
 per Charlotte found herself again near her host 
 ess, who put out her right hand to detain her, 
 while finishing a sentence on the left. Mrs. 
 Appleby held her in this familiar, motherly
 
 AT MRS. APPLES Y S. 103 
 
 fashion for several minutes, while Charlotte 
 stood with a little droop of the head, waiting in 
 girlish dependence the will of her elder friend. 
 
 " Tell me, child," said Mrs. Appleby heartily, 
 " are you happy ? Are you having a good 
 time ? Are you, indeed ? " 
 
 " I could not be having a better," said Char 
 lotte, throwing her head back, and smiling her 
 happiest at Mrs. Appleby. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you could, for I am going to intro 
 duce you to Mrs. Cricklewood. She has been 
 talking an unconscionable time with one person. 
 There, she has him at her side again. Really, I 
 must break this up. She is an old woman like 
 myself ; I will take you to her. It does n t be 
 come me to say it, but there is nothing better to 
 be found in New York than the women of sixty. 
 You should know them. They are instructive." 
 
 Mrs. Appleby had every gift of the hostess 
 save that of pronouncing names distinctly. 
 When, after presenting Charlotte to Mrs. 
 Cricklewood, she mentioned Waring s name also, 
 all that could be heard was " Mr. "Ware." 
 Charlotte bowed and took the seat offered her. 
 The folds of her train fell about her chair, height 
 ening the grace and spirit of her figure, as she 
 sat, bending with due reverence towards the wo 
 man of sixty. Waring idly watched the play of 
 light upon her dress, so indifferent he thought
 
 104 THE PETE IE ESTATE. 
 
 himself. He remembered, however, long after, 
 how the light sank into the rich stuff and was 
 lost, and then reappeared on some high surface. 
 
 " We were talking of our young New York 
 novelist who is saying such saucy things about 
 us all in his serial Much Ado about Nothing. 
 Our critic here calls him an unlicked cub : I 
 call him a burning genius," said Mrs. Crickle- 
 wood. 
 
 Charlotte looked gayly from one to the other. 
 " I agree with both, with all my heart." 
 
 " Tut, tut, is that the way you go through the 
 world, on both sides of every question ? " 
 
 " Indeed, Mrs. Cricklewood, I think it is grow 
 ing to be my way, more and more." 
 
 "But you have principles ? " 
 
 " I have always supposed I had. I was born 
 in New England." 
 
 " Ah, there s no doubt, then. Like quills 
 upon the fretful porcupine. I am an escaped 
 New Englander myself." 
 
 Charlotte wondered what her aunt would think 
 of this. To aunt Cornelia drawing-room satire 
 was matter hid in a strange tongue. The dear 
 woman would have turned pale if she had heard 
 Mrs. Cricklewood s next remark, which related 
 to Boston. 
 
 Waring saw Mrs. Cricklewood s monologue 
 establishing itself, and being a privileged fol-
 
 AT MBS. APPLEBY S. 105 
 
 lower, he cut across it boldly. " Take care, 
 Miss Coverdale, to agree with Mrs. Cricklewood 
 and me, and you will cover the ground." 
 
 " Exactly what culture is aiming at now 
 adays," Mrs. Cricklewood answered for her. 
 " Give me wholesome bigotry." She was off and 
 away again upon a train of anecdotes illustrat 
 ing delightful cases of bigotry. Waring saw 
 with satisfaction an old gentleman bearing 
 down upon their group, and was not sorry 
 when Mrs. Cricklewood greeted him and placed 
 her hand authoritatively upon the arm of a chair 
 beside her. Waring made an effort to detach 
 Charlotte from the conversation. 
 
 " Miss Coverdale, we have friends in common, 
 have we not ? the Hathaways ? " 
 
 " Oh, do you know my cousins ? " said Char 
 lotte, with the pleasure of one among strangers. 
 
 Waring was the least vain of men, but it 
 crossed his mind that since he had listened to 
 so much talk about Miss Coverdale, it was not 
 quite the fair thing that she had never heard of 
 him. It was a trifle awkward to explain who he 
 was. 
 
 " Hathaway is an old friend of mine." 
 
 " And Mrs. Hathaway is my cousin. Are you 
 often at their house ? " 
 
 " Often. They have promised that I should 
 meet you." When Waring found, however, that
 
 106 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 his intimacy with the Hathaways counted for so 
 little in Miss Coverdale s eyes, he prepared to 
 return to impersonal topics. Another common 
 interest would remain forever untouched, he 
 thought. It would not be necessary to speak to 
 this self-centred young lady about so sensitive 
 a subject as his friendship with James Petrie. 
 
 One more mention of Charlotte s cousins he 
 let fall. " Grace Hathaway speaks of you." 
 
 " When Mrs. Appleby spoke your name, did 
 I understand ? " asked Charlotte, sitting erect. 
 
 " Waring. My name is Waring." 
 
 " And are you really Mr. Waring ? " 
 
 What more could man ask than the glad rec 
 ognition in her voice ? 
 
 " Then you were the friend of my cousin 
 James Petrie who died alone here. You are the 
 only person who knew him." 
 
 Her voice thrilled with sadness and tender 
 ness. Waring was grateful to her. 
 
 " I knew him well. He was a good friend to 
 me." 
 
 " You will tell me about him, will you not ? 
 He was a distant relative, but certain cir 
 cumstances have brought me near to him. 
 You know, perhaps." 
 
 Waring bowed gravely. 
 
 " I have thought a great deal about him. I 
 have wished that I could have done something
 
 AT MRS. APPLES Y S. 107 
 
 for him, he has done so much for me. I wish I 
 could have given him my respect and affection." 
 
 " He was worthy of it." 
 
 " It seems a loss and a waste that I could not 
 have known him, that I could not have been 
 of some comfort to him, at least in those last 
 days. You would hardly believe how much I 
 think of it." 
 
 How much she thought of it was indeed 
 proved by the feeling with which she was now 
 speaking to a stranger. Waring was touched 
 by the tremor in her voice. " I wish you would 
 tell me about him," she pleaded. 
 
 Waring spoke more freely about his friend 
 than he had done even in talk with Hathaway. 
 Charlotte joined herself frankly with him in the 
 possession of James Petrie s memory. " We 
 must not let him be forgotten," she said. " I 
 wish that we could establish some memorial of 
 him ; something that would make his name re 
 membered here in his own country. You will 
 help me to think of the best thing?" 
 
 " I do not know how he looked," continued 
 Charlotte. " Have you a photograph ? Is 
 there no likeness ? " 
 
 " There is an admirable portrait of him some 
 where in London. I hardly know who claims 
 it." 
 
 " Could I get possession of it? It would be
 
 108 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 more to me than to any one else, I am sure. 
 Could I, do you think?" 
 
 " I will see what can be done about it," said 
 Waring thoughtfully. 
 
 "He brought little to this country with him," 
 Charlotte continued. " A few things were sent 
 to me, some books and an escritoire." War 
 ing remembered well that the escritoire had been 
 taken apart in the search for a will. Charlotte 
 paused, with a moment s timidity. " I should 
 be very glad if you could have something that 
 belonged to him. Perhaps you will look the 
 books over ? " Charlotte paused again, arrested 
 by an intuition of some unfitness. She looked at 
 Waring, and was glad when he thanked her 
 heartily. 
 
 They parted, each with a distinct impression 
 of the other. It might have deepened had they 
 met soon again, but weeks passed and a series 
 of accidents kept them apart.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ONE OF CHAELOTTE S INTEKRUPTIONS. 
 
 As Charlotte had left Mrs. Appleby s draw 
 ing-room, Miss Devine had followed her to the 
 foot of the stairs. " This is Miss Coverdale, is 
 it not ? I presume I may introduce myself 
 Miss Devine." Charlotte turned in surprise, 
 and would have spent few words upon Miss De- 
 vine, had not a strong light beaten down upon 
 the face of the young woman and revealed lines 
 of care and privation. " "Would you allow me 
 to call upon you, Miss Coverdale, to consult 
 with you ? " The restless, anxious manner of 
 Miss Devine led Charlotte to guess some press 
 ing need, and she said gently, " Come to-morrow 
 morning." Accordingly, at ten o clock the next 
 day, Miss Devine was shown into the room. 
 She was expensively dressed ; her wraps and 
 millinery were unexceptionable. She had pre 
 pared her own breakfast in her tiny room at the 
 top of a quiet and elegant hotel. She had the 
 advantage of a fashionable address with which to 
 head her letters, and sumptuous corridors and
 
 110 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 parlors for her visitors. For her personal comfort 
 she asked little. In a better cause, her hardships 
 would have been heroic. Her cramped room 
 had no heat ; it had no closet ; it looked upon a 
 court and never knew the full light and air of 
 day. Miss Devine s breakfast she fondly called 
 " European," and mentioned that she always 
 took her " coffee " in her room. The plainer 
 truth was that she made some feeble coffee over 
 a gas stove, then held a slice or two of yester 
 day s bread over the flame, and buttered the 
 smoky toast with an untidy dab of butter brought 
 in from the window-sill. She had never been 
 able to find the right name for her luncheon. It 
 too often consisted of a half dozen buns smuggled 
 into the hotel in a genteel shopping-bag. When 
 times were good, Miss Devine had one substan 
 tial meal a day ; but her normal state had been 
 one of simple hunger, until she had become in 
 genious in contriving means to spoil her appe 
 tite. 
 
 Miss Devine enjoyed the room in which she 
 sat and waited for Charlotte. She would have 
 been in a state of complete physical comfort, had 
 not faint odors of breakfast stolen along the hall, 
 and the distant tinkle of teaspoons and china 
 reached her ear. She turned to books and pic 
 tures, and had in her hands an English review 
 as Charlotte entered.
 
 ONE OF CHARLOTTE S INTERRUPTIONS. Ill 
 
 It was Miss Devine who introduced the sub 
 ject of Mrs. Appleby s reception. " Do you 
 know," she said, " I did not feel myself quite en 
 rapport with my audience. Perhaps you ob 
 served. I am very sensitive to my audience. I 
 feel. No, I felt that my audience did not follow 
 me. I half suspected that they did not care for 
 Browning." Miss De vine s voice sank, reproach 
 ful. " Yet Browning interpreted is quite a dif 
 ferent thing, is it not, Miss Coverdale, from 
 Browning of the printed page ? " 
 
 " Indeed it is," Charlotte roused herself to say. 
 She had become lost in a study of character. 
 This was her first encounter with an interpreter 
 of Browning. 
 
 " I felt your sympathy last night." The 
 drawn lines around Miss De vine s mouth were 
 pathetic as she smiled trustfully at Charlotte. 
 " You are a follower of Browning ? " 
 
 Charlotte devoutly believed herself to be, but 
 she hesitated ; it was too difficult and sacred a 
 subject to enter upon in this presence. 
 
 " Ah," said Miss Devine reproachfully, " I 
 hoped you felt as I did. Browning to me is 
 meat and drink. Browning to me is the four 
 elements, air, earth, fire, and water." Miss 
 Devine spoke these words with much elocution 
 ary effect, having often repeated them. Char 
 lotte listened curiously, thinking that she caught 
 a fragment of an idea.
 
 TIIE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 " There are those who profess to study Brown 
 ing. I do not." Miss Devine closed her eyes. 
 " I give myself up ; I feel, I absorb ; I do not 
 think ; we think too much ; we should become 
 passive ; we should let poetry master us." Miss 
 De vine s voice became more dreamy and her at 
 titude more trance-like. Charlotte looked and 
 listened in wonderment. " Browning " by relax 
 ation ; it was a method of study she had not 
 before heard of. She had never been better en 
 tertained, but she wished that the young lady 
 would mention her errand. Aunt Cornelia had 
 by this time joined them, but took no part in the 
 conversation. She let her knitting drop in her 
 lap, and looked at Miss Devine with head low 
 ered and a little on one side. From the first, 
 she had viewed her with mingled respect and 
 distrust, as a supposed product of New York. 
 
 "And your work this winter? "said Char 
 lotte. 
 
 " Ah, my work in New York ! " cried Miss 
 Devine ardently. " I find New York very 
 sympathetic, very stimulating/ She turned to 
 Miss Cornelia, whose look at that moment could 
 hardly have been called either sympathetic or 
 stimulating. 
 
 " Shall I tell you, ladies, what I propose for 
 this winter ? " 
 
 " Pray tell us," said Charlotte.
 
 ONE OF CHARLOTTE S INTERRUPTIONS. 113 
 
 " And will you advise me frankly ? " Miss 
 Devine flung- herself upon them with abandon 
 that Miss Cornelia resented. " Your name, 
 Miss Coverdale, would be very valuable. If you 
 would act as one of the patronesses " 
 
 " But my name is worth nothing. I am al 
 most a stranger in New York. And what are 
 you to do ? " 
 
 " I begin my season with a course of five 
 readings from Dante, in influential parlors." 
 
 Miss Cornelia s face was stern. Charlotte 
 asked composedly, " What are the conditions, 
 the terms, for your readings ? " 
 
 " Ten dollars, two dollars for each reading. 
 I have opera prices," she said, smiling from one 
 to the other, as was her habit in addressing an 
 audience. 
 
 " How large an audience can you seat in par 
 lors ? " 
 
 " Ah, there will you help me, ladies ? " She 
 addressed them as if they were a roomful. " Will 
 you allow the use of your parlors for my first 
 reading ? Will you speak of the course among 
 your friends ? There may be a number of 
 them who would like to become subscribers. 
 Their names should be printed at once upon my 
 tickets. You have influence with the ladies and 
 gentlemen whom I appeared before last night. 
 That was not my usual audience, not so purely
 
 114 THE FETR1E ESTATE. 
 
 a fashionable audience ; but it was an audience 
 that I wish to win. Each has its peculiar char 
 acter, do you understand? " 
 
 Charlotte was quite able to understand. 
 
 " The artist is very sensitive to this." Miss 
 Devine breathed through her teeth, and added 
 a little shiver to express how extreme was her 
 own sensibility. " I am not content until I take 
 complete possession of an audience, not until 
 I have possessed myself of their souls. People 
 ask me my method of teaching. That, I tell 
 them, is my method ; I take possession of their 
 souls." 
 
 Aunt Cornelia fairly blinked. Charlotte glee 
 fully anticipated the rehearsal of this scene to 
 John Hathaway. She now remarked with un 
 sympathetic common-sense, " That, I should say, 
 was in effect the method of all good teachers." 
 
 Miss Devine looked faintly disappointed, and 
 altered her tone. " A lady of your wealth, posi 
 tion, and influence, Miss Coverdale, will be most 
 valuable as a patroness. I will send you ten 
 complimentary tickets. There were people at 
 Mrs. Appleby s whom I should like to reach. 
 Mrs. Appleby herself, of course. She is most 
 kind, but is n t she considered a little cold ? a 
 little reserved ? There was Mr. Waring of the 
 Citizen. The power of the press, you know. 
 We artists must win the press. I have had
 
 ONE OF CHARLOTTE S INTERRUPTIONS. 115 
 
 most flattering press notices." Miss Devine 
 drew from her hand-bag a bunch of newspaper 
 cuttings. " If you cared to examine them, 
 ladies." 
 
 Miss Cornelia picked up her knitting in haste, 
 but Charlotte glanced at the notices. They were 
 for the most part clipped from provincial papers. 
 One or two society journals had good-naturedly 
 inserted flattering items penned by the lady her 
 self. She had lost no time in sending to several 
 papers such notice of her appearance at Mrs. 
 Appleby s. 
 
 " You see your name, Miss Coverdale ? " she 
 said impressively. 
 
 While Charlotte read the notices, she was 
 meditating. Mrs. Appleby had countenanced 
 Miss Devine, and she herself could not well 
 refuse the support that her experienced friend 
 had seen fit to give. Thus a social difficulty is 
 passed on from one to another, and Miss Devine 
 and her like are floated off. Moreover, as Char 
 lotte studied the face of the young woman before 
 her, compassion overtook her. She became filled 
 with a humane desire to give her a good meal. 
 She revolved inviting her to luncheon ; but 
 that was two hours away, and in the mean 
 while Charlotte had an appointment to keep in 
 Keyser Street. She begged her visitor to re 
 main in the library or to return at one o clock
 
 116 THE FETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 and continue the talk about the readings. " My 
 aunt will be here," she said deprecatingly, for 
 Miss Cornelia did not look overpleased at the 
 prospect of Miss Devine s society. Neverthe 
 less, the old lady remained at her post, with one 
 eye upon the visitor ; for Miss Cornelia stood 
 always in fear of some new form of city impos 
 ture on any occasion when there were "stran 
 gers in the house." Miss Devine accepted the 
 invitation cordially, both because she thought it 
 for her interest to found an intimacy with Miss 
 Coverdale, and because she sincerely enjoyed the 
 prospect of a morning among Charlotte s books. 
 
 The luncheon was abundant and nourishing, 
 and the guest ate and talked with evident enjoy 
 ment. She uttered many opinions of " men and 
 things," as she expressed it, which were thor 
 oughly clever adaptations of other people s 
 thoughts. Miss Devine was under the law an 
 honest woman, but in a certain form of petty 
 larceny she was an expert. She was a cool 
 hand at introducing second-hand conclusions, 
 with an earnest " I have always thought " or 
 " I, for my part, believe." Nevertheless, she 
 was a talker that one listened to, though she 
 was often interesting not quite in the way she 
 purposed. Through her egotism and pretense, 
 Charlotte detected aspiration and appreciation 
 that touched her, along with Miss Devine s
 
 ONE OF CHARLOTTE S INTERRUPTIONS. 117 
 
 manifest anxiety about material things. When 
 Miss Coverdale had seen her visitor depart, she 
 said to herself, " Truly I am, as Mrs. Crickle- 
 wood says, on both sides of nearly every ques 
 tion. Whether this little woman is more vulgar 
 or pathetic I cannot tell." She further said to 
 herself that she would maintain what relations 
 she pleased between Miss Devine and herself, 
 but she would not aid her to lay waste society. 
 Miss Coverdale s " influence " she could not 
 have ; but Charlotte, though she did not dare 
 confess it to her aunt, followed Miss Devine to 
 the door and asked her to send her four tickets 
 to the course of readings. 
 
 " Well," sighed aunt Cornelia, " I never saw 
 her like before. What is the matter with her, 
 Charlotte ? I wish you would explain to me. 
 It seems to me there are a great many calls 
 upon you, dear. You have a great many inter 
 ruptions. If it is n t one thing, it is another. 
 I thought you were going to have a little lei 
 sure." 
 
 " Leisure, aunt Cornelia ! " said Charlotte the 
 next day at breakfast ; " look at my morning 
 mail." A woman s daily letters are a toler 
 ably accurate reflection of her life. Charlotte s 
 were characteristic: bills, of the householder; 
 invitations, of the woman of society ; appeals 
 innumerable for money ; notes, with polite er-
 
 118 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 rands ; one old-fashioned letter of friendship, 
 seldom found nowadays outside the biographies 
 that aunt Cornelia reads. There was at the 
 bottom of the heap this morning a note bearing 
 an elaborate monogram. Charlotte broke the 
 seal and read a few lines from Miss Deviiie, ele 
 gantly begging Miss Coverdale to advance her 
 the amount of the subscription to the Dante 
 readings. Charlotte wrote the check, wonder 
 ing what was the precise degree of her folly, 
 and how far she was justified in feeling the pity 
 that disturbed her. " Poor thing ! " So she had 
 many times excused herself ; so had aunt Cor 
 nelia, too. They never, however, confided their 
 weakness to each other.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 KEYSER STREET. 
 
 Two months had passed since Charlotte s 
 visit with Corliss to her tenements in Keyser 
 Street, arid in that time her life had divided 
 into two parts. With one half of her thoughts 
 she dwelt among her down-town tenants ; with 
 the other half she lived her up-town life. The 
 day on which she first saw lower New York was 
 one never to be erased from her imagination. 
 Cheerful and determined, she had started upon 
 her trip of exploration ; she returned haggard, 
 with eyes absent and haunted. What she saw 
 she had many times read of, as all the world has 
 read in these latter days. Scenes shifted before 
 her eyes with troubling familiarity ; for she had 
 been an imaginative reader, and had seen while 
 she read. The general outlines of tenement- 
 house life she had by heart : the foul neglect of 
 the city street ; the tall building teeming with 
 dirty children ; the dark, cluttered, and squalid 
 rooms. But now literary description translated 
 itself into details. A neglected street was a
 
 120 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 street which had accumulated a rich soil of filth, 
 in which vile rags and papers blew about, stink 
 ing garbage lay along the gutter, and a dead cat 
 in the middle of the way had been run over 
 more than once. A journey up four flights of 
 tenement stairs through dirt and darkness, Char 
 lotte found more instructive than a course of 
 reading. Her tenement-house novel had not 
 taught her so much as the glimpse through an 
 open door of filthy, tousled bedclothes, or the 
 dirty mattresses turned up against the wall 
 after their service for the night upon the floor 
 of the living-room. A breakfast-table was set 
 out with a stone-colored loaf of bread, and glass 
 mugs of dark gray coffee. It was a table with 
 some pretensions, for a general push had been 
 given to the things upon it, and a cloth, gray as 
 the coffee, had been laid across the end. Char 
 lotte s heart sent up a new " cry of the children " 
 as she stepped over and around and between the 
 little huddling groups, hushed and stock-still as 
 the lady passed. The fair chance to be decent 
 men and women, how was it to be given 
 them ? She had read of the sick children of 
 the tenements. There was a face that day 
 which was never to be forgotten by the pitiful, 
 thoughtful woman who stood so far away in the 
 scale of humanity. The joyless matron, sub 
 missive and sodden, wns a type that Charlotte
 
 KEYSER STREET. 121 
 
 was prepared for. The young girl of the tene 
 ment house she had also heard of. A pretty 
 blonde of seventeen dashed through the passage 
 way. Corliss was some distance behind Char 
 lotte. 
 
 " Ilnllo, Mame," he said, in a pleased and 
 amused tone, with a look about the eye that 
 Charlotte caught as she turned. He recovered 
 his face instantly. He understood Miss Cover- 
 dale better upon a second interview, and calcu 
 lated his conduct with more care. He replied 
 gravely and plausibly to her questions. Every 
 fault of the system he traced readily to the 
 people themselves. 
 
 " Of course they re crowded. They will take 
 boarders. If you could see one of these places 
 at night ! " Corliss laughed, but pulled him 
 self in quickly. " The boarders, you see, pretty 
 nearly pay the rent." 
 
 " Then the first thing to do is to lower the 
 rent and forbid boarders." 
 
 " Oh, well," said Corliss, "that would do very 
 little good. There would only be more crowd 
 ing somewhere else." 
 
 Charlotte looked thoughtful at this ancient 
 argument against resisting evil. She struggled 
 to keep her footing and not to let herself be sub 
 merged by the immensity of sin and suffering. 
 She could not deal with it in the abstract ; she
 
 122 THE rETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 seized upon a concrete thing 1 to do to-morrow. 
 The thought of the poor sapped her energies ; 
 the thought of the men, women, and children 
 under her own roof nerved her ambition. 
 
 " You can t make these people over," was 
 Corliss s refrain. 
 
 Charlotte made no attempt to reply. It 
 would take her at least a year, she felt, to pre 
 pare her answer. She pursued her inquiries 
 as to water supply, plumbing, fire-escapes, air, 
 light, and the other inalienable rights of man. 
 
 " You could n t make em appreciate anything 
 better," was Corliss s final argument always. 
 " That s where these sentimental people make 
 their mistake. They go on the supposition that 
 these people are the same sort of stuff as them 
 selves. They write that way, lots of em. The 
 Citizen made us no end of trouble stirring up 
 people about the tenement-house district. They 
 don t know what they re talking about. I wish 
 they d interview me. A paper like the Citi 
 zen that sets up to be so high-toned. The dull 
 est paper in New York, upon my word, it is. 
 Confound their meddling ! " 
 
 The profanity which he expurgated from this 
 speech indicated the self - control that Corliss 
 was exercising in Charlotte s presence. u They 
 brought down the health officers on us here and 
 the building commissioners."
 
 EEYSER STREET. 123 
 
 Charlotte had stood still, looking at him. 
 " Did they ? I am glad of that." 
 
 " It cost us hundreds of dollars." 
 
 "I hope it did." 
 
 Corliss began to crawl back from his position. 
 " Of course we should have done it in time. 
 The fact was we did n t quite know how bad it 
 was." 
 
 " Is there no one in charge of the house ? " 
 
 " We have always given it our personal super 
 vision," replied Corliss glibly. 
 
 "But is there no one on the spot, responsible 
 for the care of the building? " 
 
 " That would be a very unnecessary expense," 
 said Corliss in the tone which he fancied infal 
 lible for dealing with unreasonable women. 
 " Now I tell you what you want," he added con 
 fidentially. 
 
 " How are the rents collected ? " she contin 
 ued. 
 
 " We send our young man. If it is an obsti 
 nate case, I come myself." 
 
 Corliss was, on the whole, satisfied with the 
 result of the expedition. Miss Coverdale had 
 made but few comments ; the indignation that 
 had once or twice escaped her had been rather 
 spirited and becoming. It would be easy to 
 turn her attention to pleasanter matters, he fan 
 cied. He left her with a jaunty, " When shall
 
 124 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 we go slumming again, Miss Coverdale ? I am 
 at your service." 
 
 Meanwhile, Charlotte had conceived a purpose 
 about which she wished to consult John Hatha 
 way at the first opportunity. Until she saw him 
 she brooded over the impressions of her visit. 
 They took violent hold of her, and, as she felt, 
 almost unsteadied her mind. She had discovered 
 real life, since it was the life of the majority, if 
 you take the whole face of the globe. Her own 
 existence with its graceful pleasures, pretty cul 
 ture, and cushioned comfort, seemed to her fantas 
 tic and deceptive. She began to doubt her own 
 rights and possessions. Morally speaking, there 
 seemed no reality in her ownership of anything. 
 
 " Of all this wealth, what have I a right to ? " 
 she asked John Hathaway suddenly. He was 
 startled. Had she a suspicion ? Perceiving her 
 meaning, he tried to show her that she was sink 
 ing in the quicksands of socialism. " And what 
 could one woman do, after all ? " This was his 
 refrain, corresponding to that of Corliss. 
 
 Charlotte would not listen. "And I have 
 heard that what I saw was far from being the 
 worst. It seems that there arc seven circles of 
 this hell. And here I have sat thanking Provi 
 dence for my happy little lot ! Don t let me 
 begin to doubt the goodness of God. I am 
 overpowered, carried under, out to sea ! "
 
 KEY SEE STREET. 125 
 
 " Charlotte," said Hathaway, at the end of a 
 long talk, " my advice to you is this : either see 
 no more and think no more of all this, or else see 
 and think a great deal more. But I think myself 
 you d better not harrow your sympathies with 
 underground New York. We are all living on a 
 thin crust, anyway. Oh, well, why think about 
 it ? What can one woman do ? " 
 
 Charlotte shook her head, and would none of 
 this formula. " Your advice is good, John ; I 
 will see more." 
 
 " Well, good-by, Charlotte." There was a 
 mingled lightness and sadness in his tone, as 
 there was in the nature of the man himself. 
 
 Charlotte soon made a second visit to Keyser 
 Street, without informing her agent. She recov 
 ered with a healthy action of the mind from the 
 shock of her first impression, and came home 
 with food for a new set of reflections. Her at 
 tention had at first been fixed upon the differ 
 ences of the human lot ; at her second visit, her 
 strongest impression had been of the similarity 
 of human beings. She felt that she had discov 
 ered a working principle, and could now begin to 
 act. A kettle boiled in Keyser Street precisely 
 as it did in Van Hatten Park, and the laws of 
 nature operated in human hearts exactly as they 
 did in the Tipper regions of the city. Many 
 things struck Charlotte as less hopeless, on her
 
 126 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 second visit. There were few of her own tene 
 ments so degraded that she did not see strug 
 gling beneath the squalor the aspiration after 
 a home. There was the germ of hope in this, 
 even in the pitiful attempts at decoration, the 
 patch of red in most rooms, and the hideous 
 pair of vases on the mantel. There was home 
 love, too, she discovered, spite of the slaps and 
 squalls. A frequent sight was the older child 
 comforting and cherishing the baby in trouble. 
 Beautiful to Charlotte was the light in the face 
 of a mother when notice was taken of her chil 
 dren. 
 
 Nor was the dirt absolutely without protest. 
 Much furious cleaning was going on at the 
 hour of Charlotte s visit. It was, in most cases, 
 unintelligent taking up of dirt and putting of it 
 down again. The smells were abominable ; but 
 she reflected that these smells of old Europe nat 
 uralized in our slums are not to the nostrils of a 
 Polish Jew what they are to the thoroughbred 
 American, the possessor of the most delicate nose 
 among all the nations. 
 
 " What to do ? " had been Charlotte s cry in 
 the dark after her first sight of Keyser Street. 
 Light now rushed in upon her. Exultant energy 
 coursed through her veins. Her cheerfulness and 
 serenity were restored at the prospect of action, 
 and all that she had suffered seemed converted
 
 KEY SEE STREET. 127 
 
 into power. Her gift for organization had made 
 High Hill Seminary a dignified and efficient 
 school, and it had established a beautiful home 
 for herself and her aunt. To her executive in 
 stinct, thought pointed to action rather than to 
 speech. " For a person who loves books as you 
 do, you are the least bookish person I ever saw," 
 a friend had said to her. " When you talk or 
 write, it is always for the sake of getting some 
 thing said." 
 
 It was only with John Hathaway that she 
 talked about her plans. 
 
 " I am going to do it at once, not next week 
 or next year. That is my first principle." 
 
 " Good." 
 
 " Whatever I do is temporizing. The only 
 radical remedy is to tear down and build up 
 again, and that I mean to accomplish in time. 
 At the beginning of the month, that is, in two 
 days, the rents go down, and No boarders 
 becomes the law. A janitress, or housekeeper, 
 is to be placed in one of the first-floor tenements. 
 I am fitting up a room as an office, one of the 
 prettiest rooms in New York. There I intend 
 to sit two mornings in the week." 
 
 " And what do your real estate people say to 
 that? " 
 
 " I have done with them. I am going to be 
 my own agent."
 
 128 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 " Heavens and earth, Charlotte, do you know 
 what you are in for ? " 
 
 " No, I don t suppose I do. But you will let 
 me try it? Bring your business man s judgment 
 to bear. That is why I am consulting you. It 
 is not an impossibility ? " 
 
 "No, it is not an impossibility. It has been 
 done before." 
 
 " Has it ? " There was a shade of disappoint 
 ment in Charlotte s voice. She was not a per 
 fect woman, but she was nobly planned ; in an 
 instant, her magnanimity reasserted itself. 
 " Oh, I hope it has succeeded." 
 
 " Yes, it has been tried by a woman, and has 
 succeeded, I believe." 
 
 Charlotte was human. Her fair project looked 
 duller, less interesting. Such lapses from no 
 bility discouraged her. 
 
 "But how do you get rid of Corliss? They 
 have had charge of the property for years. They 
 have made a good thing out of it, for themselves 
 and for the owner. They won t see why they re 
 turned off. The younger fellow oh, he s well 
 enough in a business way, so long as his interests 
 and yours are the same." 
 
 " I loathe him," said Charlotte. 
 
 Ilathaway laiighed. " Is it because you loathe 
 him that you are turning him off? " 
 
 Charlotte thought. " Yes, partly. Not alto-
 
 KEYSER STREET. 129 
 
 getlier ; I want to be rid of his management of 
 this property, and to try my own." 
 
 " Ho 11 be a good deal cut up if he loses this 
 business. You will make him your enemy." 
 
 " I don t very well know what an enemy is," 
 Charlotte meditated. " Enemies used to puzzle 
 me in the Bible when I was a child." 
 
 " Never had one ? Of course not ! I should n t 
 be surprised, though, if Corliss turned out a 
 good old Scripture enemy. He is an unprinci 
 pled fellow/ 
 
 " What could he do to injure me ? " cried 
 Charlotte gayly. 
 
 " Well, go ahead. You ve got your lawyers 
 to fall back on for advice, and I am always on 
 hand, if you want me." 
 
 Before the day was over, Charlotte wrote a 
 letter to Corliss. As she sat down at her desk, 
 she was seized with kindness for the people who 
 had so long been associated with her cousin, and 
 she wrote a letter of the utmost gentleness and 
 consideration. 
 
 The letter was not read in that spirit by Mr. 
 Edward Corliss. He did not hesitate to call the 
 writer the worst variety of fool in his vocabulary. 
 The result of the letter was a prolonged and 
 fruitful reverie, for Corliss had a constructive 
 mind. lie tapped his desk with a lead pencil 
 and stared at the inkstand. The sore sense of
 
 130 THE PET HIE ESTATE. 
 
 injured merit as a business man was lost in the 
 stunning blow to his vanity. Alas for Malvo- 
 lio! 
 
 Corliss s thoughts were the elaboration of these 
 heads : 
 
 a. Women are fools. 
 
 b. This woman is not only making a fool of 
 herself, she is making ducks and drakes of a 
 fine property. 
 
 c. She has no business to be holding this prop 
 erty anyhow. 
 
 d. Find that will turn her out that would 
 even things up ! 
 
 Corliss mentioned the matter that evening to 
 a friend of his, a detective. The detective s last 
 words were, " The most improbable thing in the 
 world." 
 
 " But the most improbable thing in the world 
 happens at least once a day."
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WHIST. 
 
 MRS. BISBEE, iii old cashmere shawl and 
 faded rigolette, clung to the arm of Mr. Pil- 
 kington, muffled to his ears in winter wrap 
 pings. They walked under the gaslights to 
 Charlotte s door, with slow and dignified step, 
 for, as Mrs. Bisbee justly remarked, they had 
 the evening before them. Mr. Pilkington was 
 a trifle wheezy, and Mrs. Bisbee a little stiff in 
 the knees, facts treated euphuistically by each 
 in the presence of the other. The lady s re 
 marks to her companion resounded across the 
 still park in the night air. Her partiality was 
 in nothing more marked than in her loyal in 
 sistence that Mr. Pilkington was not deaf, only 
 inattentive. " He gets absorbed in his thoughts, 
 that s all." 
 
 The guests were evidently awaited by Char 
 lotte and her aunt, for a shining mahogany card- 
 table was set out in the library, counters and 
 cards were ready, and four chairs were in place. 
 Charlotte heard the door-bell ring, and went
 
 132 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 to the head of the stairs. Her aunt laid down 
 her novel. Aunt Cornelia had principles of all 
 sizes. Among her smaller principles was one 
 which forbade her to read fiction by daylight. 
 The old lady dearly loved her novel, and quickly 
 found her place as soon as evening shut in. 
 Charlotte was equally amused at that delight 
 ful superstition of her aunt s which obliged her 
 to stand up to sew, if by chance she was forced 
 to take a stitch on Sunday. 
 
 " Ah, sweet Mistress Coverdale, the actors are 
 at hand," Mrs. Bisbee panted as she reached the 
 top of the stairs. 
 
 Charlotte kissed her. 
 
 " Life would be dull indeed without whist. I 
 never take a hand that I don t think of Talley 
 rand and the young man that did n t play : 
 What an unhappy old age you re laying up 
 for yourself, young man ! Do I quote that 
 every time I come ? Tell me, pray do. But it 
 is a fact, life has an interest so long as you have 
 a fresh hand to pick up." 
 
 Mr. Pilkington looked very patient as he took 
 his seat at the table. lie had been a serious 
 and lifelong whist-player, on whose part it was 
 no small condescension to play a rubber with 
 ladies. It was pathetic evidence of the few 
 resources left him .that in these days he was 
 often persuaded to take a hand on such terms.
 
 WHIST. 133 
 
 His life, however, fell easily into little grooves 
 of habit, and having played whist once a week 
 in Charlotte s library, through the autumn, it 
 became inevitable that he should play whist 
 once a week through the winter. Again, while 
 the characters of the ladies as whist-players 
 were far from irreproachable, the lonely old 
 gentleman found them otherwise charming com 
 pany. 
 
 Miss Cornelia Coverdale also regarded whist 
 as one of the serious pursuits of life. It main 
 tained in her mind a dignity and distinction 
 quite apart from other games. Whist and 
 " cards " were to her as widely different as the 
 people who played them. She had heard of 
 euchre, and there were other vulgar games 
 whose names she did not care to know. Great 
 men had played whist, statesmen and phi 
 losophers, and its mysteries commanded her 
 reverence and devotion. She respected Mr. 
 Pilkington s attitude, and deplored Mrs. Bis- 
 bee s. She regretted that levity and talkative 
 ness were even taking possession of Charlotte. 
 She had brought up her niece to play a good 
 game. " I know of no place where mind tells 
 as it does in a game of whist," Miss Cornelia 
 would say impressively, as direct a compliment 
 as she ever thought for the good of her niece. 
 That luck or chance should ever enter into the
 
 134 THE I ETIUE ESTATE. 
 
 result of the game was an idea as abhorrent to 
 Miss Cornelia as it was delightful to the irre 
 sponsible Mrs. Bisbee. They argued the ques 
 tion of the essential enjoyment of the game. 
 " Ah, Miss Cornelia, you play the New Eng 
 land game. We New England people," said 
 Mrs. Bisbee, hospitably including herself, "take 
 our pleasures, if it s a possible thing, even more 
 conscientiously than we do our duties." She 
 herself had no notion of approaching a game 
 of whist as if it were a solemn sacrifice. Less 
 serious players might have found her trying. 
 Mrs. Bisbee had always much to say, and she 
 had now an unusual opportunity to say it ; for 
 here were three people at close quarters who 
 could not rise from their chairs, and who were 
 bound by their principles not to talk them 
 selves. She was, moreover, demoralizing Char 
 lotte. When that young lady inquired what 
 was trumps, aunt Cornelia came as near being 
 angry with her niece as she had ever been 
 known to be. Charlotte was occasionally ab 
 sent, as winter engagements thickened, and the 
 game was then carried on with a dummy super 
 intended by Mrs. Bisbee, whose imagination 
 rollicked about the empty chair. She declared 
 that she liked to manage a dummy ; she had 
 been managing dummies all her life. If this 
 were a reference to the departed Mr. Bisbee,
 
 WHIST. 135 
 
 Miss Cornelia marveled at its bad taste. She 
 delicately hoped that excellent Mr. Pilkington 
 would not see in the remark any allusion to him 
 self. Not he ! He admired Mrs. Bisbee the 
 woman as heartily as he lamented Mrs. Bisbee 
 the whist-player. 
 
 " Very well, very well," said Mrs. Bisbee, 
 rubbing her hands, " we have work before us." 
 She took it for her privilege to call the others to 
 order and to push on the business of the even 
 ing. " Mr. Pilkington, will you cut for deal ? 
 So, Charlotte, we have been at last to hear 
 Lizzie Devine read from the Inferno. Devine 
 it used to be in the country ; Deveen since she 
 has come to the city. She used to be Lizzie 
 Devine before she unfurled her middle name, 
 Elizabeth Otis Devine. And pray what did she 
 have to say for herself ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Bisbee, will you be good enough to 
 notice that the trump is clubs ? " 
 
 " Yes, to be sure. Well, Charlotte ? You 
 know I knew her up in the country." 
 
 " Yes," said Charlotte, traveling over her 
 cards absently. 
 
 Her aunt looked at her as if she were a 
 naughty child, at which Charlotte laughed, and 
 said nothing until the first hand was played. 
 
 " Yes, I went this morning. You see I had 
 some tickets," Charlotte added apologetically.
 
 13G THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 " We were rows of ladies in camp-chairs, and 
 we sat some minutes before Miss Devine ap 
 peared. I heard some one saying beneath her 
 breath, She always conies in a little late. 
 
 " You don t tell me ! " Mrs. Bisbee ejaculated. 
 " Little Liz Devine ! " 
 
 " And somebody else was saying in a low 
 tone, She always eats a raw egg just before she 
 appears. " 
 
 " My stars ! " said Mrs. Bisbee. 
 
 " At last she entered the room." 
 
 "Hear! Hear!" 
 
 " She entered through dark red portieres, 
 which she held back for a moment with one 
 hand, while she stood still at the threshold. 
 Then she advanced " 
 
 " She did n t merely walk, I 11 be bound, 
 Elizabeth Otis Devine ! " 
 
 " She moved her glass of water from the left 
 to the right, and her footstool from the right 
 to the left. She had all the doors and win 
 dows readjusted, and when she had settled the 
 draughts to her mind, seated herself in a beauti 
 ful old armchair and threw herself into the atti 
 tude of Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse." 
 
 " Stage-struck ! She always was ! " 
 
 " Miss Devine drooped one hand over the 
 arm of her chair, the hand that held the rose. 
 On the opposite arm of the chair she rested an
 
 WHIST. 137 
 
 elbow, and sat looking- her audience in the eye. 
 She glanced coolly from side to side, and up and 
 down the room." 
 
 " To show you she was a match for you. Yes, 
 yes. And dressed, I suppose " 
 
 " In dark velvet. A long train, a high ruff, 
 that is all I remember." 
 
 " And Dante you listened to ? To what base 
 uses we may return, Horatio ! The noble dust 
 of Dante- 4 But pray describe her to me." 
 
 " You shall have my tickets for the rest of 
 the course, Mrs. Bisbee." 
 
 " She can t spare you. She is shrewd enough 
 to know what you are worth to her. Well, there 
 is every type of adventuress in this great city : 
 she is one specimen. She won t hold out long. 
 Did one of those ladies go to hear her because 
 she wanted to ? Not at all. It was because 
 Mrs. X had asked her to take tickets, and she 
 herself had just sold Mrs. X tickets for her pet 
 fair ; or it was because the reading was in Mrs. 
 Y s house, with whom many of them have im 
 portant social relations. Or sometimes it is a 
 reading for a charity. They looked bored ? I 
 respect them for it ! " 
 
 " Mrs. Bisbee, will you deal?" said Mr. Pil- 
 kington. 
 
 " With pleasure ! You see she was a country 
 girl with aspirations, a little flighty always.
 
 138 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 She used to speak pieces at church sociables, 
 till she got the poison of an audience into her. 
 Then she came out as a Browning reader, and a 
 Delsarte exponent, I believe they call it, 
 and I don t know what all. She has the mor 
 bid taste for Browning, fully developed. I am 
 glad he has occasionally a healthy, rational 
 reader." 
 
 While the hand was played out, Mrs. Bisbee 
 was silent, but played badly. She was taking- 
 time to meditate, and her next remark might 
 have been predicted by any one who knew her 
 character. 
 
 " Well," she said, " perhaps I have said 
 enough about her. She is very good to her 
 family, and they are poor enough, her old 
 father and mother." 
 
 " We ought to know such things," said Char 
 lotte, " if they do spoil the story. I fancy the 
 girl has a hard life of it. If she asked my ad 
 vice, I should tell her to go back to the country, 
 and teach her little school, and live with her 
 parents. Her career, as she calls it, will be the 
 death of her. Her nerves are fast going to 
 pieces. And yet, like everybody else, she must 
 come to New York to seek her fortune. How 
 did I find mine so easily? And they call 
 American life so deadly monotonous. Why, 
 our changes of fortune are enough to keep up
 
 WHIST. 139 
 
 the excitement. Here am I. You all know, 
 dear friends. I was poor yesterday, rich to-day ; 
 who knows but I may be poor to-morrow ? " 
 
 " You don t speculate, my dear Miss Cover- 
 dale ? " said Mr. Pilkington facetiously. 
 
 " Yes, I believe I do, in Keyser Street." 
 
 " We must not set too great a value upon 
 money, dear," said Miss Cornelia gently. 
 
 " Aunt Cornelia, I do love money." Char 
 lotte spoke not with fervor, but with quiet con 
 viction. " It is blood in my veins ; it gives me 
 power and vitality. I have my freedom at last, 
 and can be myself. Yes, and what I dare to 
 dream of dare to do. " 
 
 " She s got the right idea, madam," said Mr. 
 Pilkington, nodding to Miss Cornelia. 
 
 " I am glad she means to keep the upper hand 
 of her fortune," Mrs. Bisbee remarked. " I am 
 another person who dares to spend her money 
 as she pleases. I fancy I know how to use New 
 York. A great city is a good servant, a very 
 poor master." 
 
 " Mrs. Bisbee, I must remind you that it is 
 your torn to deal." 
 
 Mrs. Bisbee dealt briskly with her fat little 
 hands, while her long, old-fashioned watch-chain 
 clanked rhythmically against the table. 
 
 "Mrs. Bisbee, you and I must stop gossip 
 ing"
 
 140 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 " Quite right, my dear. Silence ! " 
 Silence there was for the length of five min 
 utes. Mr. Pilkington bent to his work with a 
 concentration and force that the old gentleman 
 put into nothing else of late. He measured 
 his resources with judgment ; he gauged the 
 strength of the enemy with keen observation 
 and inference ; he arrayed himself against the 
 other side in merciless opposition. He fought 
 every inch of ground with the pure spirit of 
 warfare. This primitive enjoyment of a good 
 fight Charlotte watched with interest, and the 
 more interest that it was no part of her own 
 nature. There were elemental energies in the 
 old whist - player that were completely done 
 away with in her woman s character. She re 
 membered Mrs. Bisbee s discourse upon the 
 " boy eternal." " I have yet to see the man so 
 old that it is n t there," remarked that philo 
 sopher. " He wants to see the fire, he wants to 
 hear the shouting, he wants to see how the thing 
 works, and in some shape or other, he loves a 
 schoolboy fight to the very end." 
 
 Opposite Mr. Pilkington sat his feminine 
 counterpart. Miss Cornelia played with scru 
 pulous neatness, with faithful memory and nice 
 calculation, with the desire to acquit herself 
 honorably and to retire from the game with no 
 blunders to mar her self-respect. In short, the
 
 WHIST. 141 
 
 pleasure of an evening of whist was to Miss 
 Cornelia altogether the pleasure of a good con 
 science. She did not snuff the battle as her 
 partner did, nor did she comprehend how a 
 mild old gentleman could develop so fierce a 
 spirit, or how a gallant old gentleman could 
 cease to regard his companions as anything 
 beyond first, second, and third hand. 
 
 A new deal released the talkers, and Mrs. 
 Bisbee lost no time. 
 
 " I suppose you have seen the Citizen to 
 day. No ? Not the editorial on the Penalties 
 of American Good-nature? Ah, but I quarrel 
 with him. It is the thing I am proudest of. 
 We have more adaptability than any other na 
 tion. You can set us down anywhere ! And 
 what is adaptability but good-nature, with just 
 an added touch ? I am keeping my eye on the 
 young man who is writing these editorials. Oh, 
 he is young, that I am sure of." 
 
 "Not strikingly young," said Charlotte. "He 
 is a friend of the Ilathaways." 
 
 " Eh, you know him ? And he does n t find 
 America at all to his mind? Ah, ah, disable 
 all the benefits of your own country, be out of 
 love with your nativity, and almost chide God 
 for making you that countenance you are, or I 
 will scarce think you have swam in a gondola. " 
 
 " Mrs. Bisbee, Mrs. Bisbee," cried Charlotte,
 
 142 THE PET1UE ESTATE. 
 
 " you do not appreciate the quality of Mr. War- 
 ing s patriotism." 
 
 Mrs. Bisbee, launched in Shakespearean quo 
 tation, was not to be held back. " It is true 
 enough, he has a melancholy of his own, com 
 pounded of many simples, extracted from many 
 objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of 
 his travels. You see I follow his articles. Tell 
 me, do you find him wrapped in a most humor 
 ous sadness ?" 
 
 " He is far from being your melancholy 
 Jaques, Mrs. Bisbee." 
 
 " You defend him ?" 
 
 " lie is the best patriot I know." 
 
 Mrs. Bisbee s eyes twinkled and sharpened, 
 and then seemed to Charlotte to bore like gim 
 lets. " Beatrice and I can see a church by day 
 light," remarked Mrs. Bisbee. 
 
 " Spare me," said Charlotte. " I have met 
 Mr. Waring once. I merely follow his articles, 
 as you do." 
 
 " His name is Waring ? " Ungrateful Mrs. 
 Bisbee ! Waring remembered her, and in ten 
 minutes had acquired a relish for her company. 
 
 " Is n t it about time for a little refreshment, 
 Charlotte, before we play the rubber ? " With 
 these precise words, at this precise moment in 
 the game, the tension of the evening was every 
 week relaxed. Miss Cornelia s rigorous part-
 
 WHIST. 143 
 
 ner became again the mild-mannered old gentle 
 man, waiting to obey the slightest hest of the 
 three superior ladies. Miss Cornelia herself 
 leaned against the back of her chair, for the 
 first time since the game had begun. She was 
 now full of gentle hospitality, for aunt Corne 
 lia never took such pleasure in her friends as 
 when she was delicately feeding them. The 
 little feast was pretty to the eye, as it was set 
 out upon the dark mahogany table. The rich- 
 hued raspberry shrub from aunt Cornelia s own 
 vintage was poured from a many-faceted de 
 canter that snatched the light and danced with 
 it. A frail Venetian plate of wonderful pris 
 matic colors, frosted with gold, bore dainty, fan 
 tastic cakes. 
 
 Surrounded by the older people, Charlotte s 
 youth was brought into relief, and she looked 
 and felt her youngest as she sat on a low stool 
 by Mrs. Bisbee s side, and nestled to her confi 
 dentially as her voice lowered. Miss Cornelia 
 and Mr. Pilkington were absorbed in the discus 
 sion of " that last hand." 
 
 " And how goes the role of landlady ? " said 
 Mrs. Bisbee affectionately. "You don t look 
 it precisely." 
 
 " See me in my office, Mrs. Bisbee." 
 
 " You know I am not convinced." 
 
 " I can t convince you here by talking."
 
 144 THE PET1UE ESTATE. 
 
 " Very well, I will come. To-morrow ? " 
 
 " I shall be there. It is the first of the month 
 and the rents are paid to me." 
 
 " How long have you been at it ? " 
 
 " Three months." 
 
 " And you fancy it pays ? " 
 
 " You can come and see. You are not a re 
 porter. We have had hard work to keep off 
 reporters. We are not ready for them yet." 
 
 " Let your light shine, my dear. For mercy s 
 sake, don t keep good works out of the news 
 papers. The devil gets a deal more than his 
 share of space." 
 
 " I will not be held up as a philanthropist, 
 only as a business woman. I am a bold specu 
 lator, Mrs. Bisbee, that is all." 
 
 " I hope it is n t altogether treasure laid up 
 in heaven." 
 
 " It pays me five per cent, on earth. As for 
 the happiness it gives me, I need not wait for 
 heaven, either." 
 
 " There s no need of anybody s waiting for 
 heaven, dear child." Mrs. Bisbee looked into 
 Charlotte s pure, steady eyes, and thought, had 
 she been the girl s lover, she should have known 
 what to say to her. 
 
 As the good-nights were spoken, Mrs. Bisbee 
 said to Charlotte, " Come over and see me, and 
 we will finish these things they would u t let us
 
 WHIST. 145 
 
 talk about to-night. I have hardly spoken a 
 word. I stand in such awe of Mr. Pilkington. 
 Who beat the rubber ? I have forgotten, al 
 ready. Good-night, good-night ! "
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 IN WHICH NOTHING HAPPENS. 
 
 MRS. HATHAWAY was not without ideals of 
 wifely devotion. She was critical of her hus 
 band s dress ; especially, when they set out to 
 gether in the trying light of the street, she would 
 inform him that he was badly brushed, and 
 would beg to know if he had not a better pair of 
 gloves. She had an anxious care of his health, 
 and would follow him up at table : " You know 
 you oughtn t to eat this," and, " John, why will 
 you eat that ? " When he was late to dinner, 
 she was scrupulous in sitting with him till he 
 had finished his meal. Nor did she neglect to 
 talk to him while he wearily went on with his 
 meat and pudding. At these belated meal-times, 
 with the children and servants dismissed, she 
 found the chance to introduce and carry tli rough 
 some of her most important projects. To-night, 
 however, she started another theme. 
 
 " I lose all patience with Charlotte," she cried 
 suddenly. 
 
 It was noticeable that Mrs. Hathaway had no 
 power to criticise Charlotte save when absent
 
 IN WHICH NOTHING HAPPENS. 147 
 
 from her cousin. The womanly sympathy which 
 was strong in Charlotte, and which made other 
 women trust her and find comfort in her, held 
 even Sue Hathaway in its power so long as the 
 two cousins were together. They were no sooner 
 separated than Mrs. Hathaway began to see 
 faults. " I don t know what to make of her," 
 she added. She was obliged to say a thing twice 
 to her husband when he was tired. 
 
 " What has Charlotte done ? " he said at last. 
 
 "She throws away her opportunities. She 
 throws away New York." 
 
 " Why, I rather fancied she was making the 
 most of New York." 
 
 " She will never marry, at this rate." 
 
 " What should she want to marry for ? I 
 would n t if I were in her place. She s better 
 off as she is." The idea was not a pleasant one. 
 
 " She has got in with a lot of Bohemians, who 
 are nothing but a hindrance to her. It all comes 
 of her going to that boarding-house. As if she 
 wanted to know people she picked up in such a 
 place! She has been going to the symphony 
 concerts with that dreadful old frump, with her 
 bonnet over one ear, Mrs. Busbee, or some 
 such name." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Bisbee," said Hathaway, brighten 
 ing. 
 
 " Such clothes I never saw ! :
 
 148 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 " They say only Frenchwomen know how to 
 make the most of both their brains and their 
 pins." 
 
 Mrs. Hathaway paused. " Why jiins ? Oh, 
 yes ! What a queer expression ! " 
 
 " Where s her aunt ? " 
 
 " Oh, aunt Cornelia dreads to go out evenings. 
 You might know she would! Fortunately, 
 Charlotte has an excellent maid, and then, Char 
 lotte cannot be called young much longer. Still, 
 she has her money in her favor. But she hasn t 
 the faintest notion how to please. 1 Pretty Mrs. 
 Hathaway spoke with conscious authority. There 
 was nothing for Hathaway to reply to this, and 
 his wife continued, " She goes out a great deal, 
 it is true, but I don t know how to describe it : 
 she does n t seem to do it in a serious spirit." 
 
 Hathaway looked up and laughed. 
 
 " Nobody can say she does n t enjoy it. I 
 have seen her at a tiresome tea, and she has 
 looked perfectly radiant. She enjoys the flowers 
 and the music and the dresses a great deal more 
 than I do. I m bored to death. But then, 
 after all, she is merely amused by it. She goes 
 home and makes a good story out of it for aunt 
 Cornelia and that Mrs. I forget her name. 
 She does n t seem to see the meaning of it all." 
 
 " I am glad if you do." 
 
 " Then she entertains in such an irresponsible
 
 IN WHICH NOTHING HAPPENS. 149 
 
 way. She simply invites anybody she feels like 
 inviting. I should like to know what would be 
 come of society if people just picked out their 
 friends. It would be a queer world to live in ! 
 Charlotte has so little sense of obligation. I 
 tell her, You ought to do this, and you ought 
 to do thus and so ; but it seems to make no im 
 pression. I think myself that Charlotte is, 
 after all, rather superficial." 
 
 Mrs. Hathaway had given her husband no 
 chance to reply, but she was irritated that he 
 said nothing. 
 
 "Oh, I know you like to take the opposite 
 side, but you know very well Charlotte is n t 
 your sort of woman. Why did you marry me, 
 pray, if she was ? Charlotte and I are slightly 
 different." 
 
 " Suppose you give me some of that pudding, 
 Sue." 
 
 " Then there s that tenement-house craze of 
 hers. Not that there s any harm in charities. 
 She might be getting in with some of the best 
 people that way, but she refuses everything, be 
 cause she is so absorbed down there in that out- 
 of-the-way place. What I am afraid of, is her 
 putting her ideas into Grace." 
 
 She waited for him, and he said wearily, 
 "Why do you object?" The inanity of his 
 speech was quickly visited upon him.
 
 150 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 " As if you could n t see ! " She sighed. " I 
 found out long ago that I must make my way 
 alone. All the effort, all the struggle, you leave 
 to me. I am the one that has to make a place 
 in the world for this family." 
 
 John Hathaway did not groan and did not 
 bury his face in his hands, but his smile meant 
 the same thing. He spoke gently, and clumsily 
 supposed that he had changed the subject. 
 " Sue, I wish you would manage to ask young 
 Austen up here to supper Sunday night, or 
 something of the sort. We have just taken him 
 into the office, you know. He is a stranger in 
 the city. I should be glad to have him know a 
 home to drop into occasionally." 
 
 " How much do you pay him ? " 
 
 " Twelve hundred a year." 
 
 " Is there money in the family ? " 
 
 " We knew his people years ago. lie is of 
 good stock : there has n t been a black sheep in 
 the family for generations. They are a good 
 family, but land-poor." 
 
 "Don t bring him here, John. He will be 
 falling in love with Grace." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Grace has n t such ideas." 
 
 "Hasn t she?" It was Mrs. Hathaway s 
 turn to pity dullness. 
 
 " What if he does fall in love with her ? 
 He s a capital fellow."
 
 IN WHICH NOTHING HAPPENS. 151 
 
 " Twelve hundred a year ! He ought not to 
 think of marrying 1 . What a fate to subject a 
 girl to who has been used to everything ! No 
 young man ought to dream of marrying on such 
 an income." 
 
 " Do you women know what you are saying ? " 
 said her husband sternly. 
 
 " Oh, pshaw, John ! " 
 
 " Well, ask him up here, and I 11 see to en 
 tertaining him. We won t risk Grace." 
 
 " Grace is full of romantic notions. What 
 does she know about the seriousness of mar 
 riage ? She thinks it s taking hold of hands and 
 running across a meadow. I believe she would 
 jump at love in a cottage, love in a flat on a 
 top floor, that is." 
 
 " Good for Grace ! " 
 
 This brought the conversation round once 
 more to precisely the point where Hathaway 
 had broken it off. 
 
 " I suppose you can t be expected to take the 
 same interest in your children that I do, John ; 
 but it is a little hard " and so on till they rose 
 from the table. Hathaway went into the hall, 
 and took down his overcoat. He felt cross, 
 he said to himself, and wanted to walk it off. 
 His interest in his children, what had he in 
 life but that ? What was the toil of his long 
 day but that ? What was his dread of the f u-
 
 152 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 ture but that? That dread of the future had 
 for years expressed itself in the heavy life insur 
 ance he carried, carried, indeed, like a pack 
 upon his shoulders. Now that the whirring in 
 his head had become persistent, there had been 
 savage satisfaction in the high premium that had 
 been maintained from one straining year to the 
 next. His interest in his children and his hope 
 for them had been, first of all, that their life 
 should be different from their father s. Details 
 of training had, however, given way before the 
 care of providing for them materially. The day- 
 laborer, so exhausted with his toil that he can 
 not play with his children, so John Hathaway 
 saw himself, and knew that he was dull, nerve 
 less, and uninterested. That it appeared so to 
 himself was the irony of circumstances. No man 
 sought fewer distractions outside his home ; no 
 man, apparently, was less to his home. He was 
 not a man to be missed much, in any quarter, 
 he thought grimly. The life insurance would 
 be more than an equivalent. The mill-wheel in 
 his brain was at full speed to-night, and his 
 thoughts had their gloomiest cast. Heart of lead 
 and brain of fire, nerves racked as in a torture- 
 chamber such was the crossness of which he 
 complained. All the time he was walking down 
 ward and eastward in the direction of Van Hatten 
 Park. There lay comfort and comprehension ;
 
 IN WHICH NOTHING HAPPENS. 153 
 
 behind him blindness and frustration. He did 
 not reason or analyze, much less did he moralize. 
 He had the simple desire that Charlotte should 
 look into his eyes and say, " I know ; I see." He 
 walked 011 without question or condemnation 
 of this yearning. It was the natural climax of 
 the past three months, in which the sight of Char 
 lotte had come to be the one fair outlook of an 
 imprisoned life. She was air and sunlight to his 
 mind. Her large sympathies gave him space to 
 breathe and room to move with natural freedom. 
 He could recover his whole self, lost for many 
 years. They met in simple friendliness, and of- 
 tenest under his own roof. Never a sign had 
 passed between them disloyal to the situation, 
 yet a silent confidence had grown upon them 
 steadily. To-night a change had come over John 
 Hathaway, a mad desire to touch the truth 
 once, though it were to be left unspoken ever 
 after. Sick in mind and body, he desired to 
 say, " I am an unhappy man." He fancied that 
 one confession would satisfy him, and that one 
 look from Charlotte would suffice, not measur 
 ing the temptation that assailed him. 
 
 The way was long, but Hathaway walked rap 
 idly. His mind acted oddly. Underneath lay 
 the heavy consciousness of self, but there was 
 sharp observation of the passing scene. It was 
 the hour of bright, gay hurrying to pleasure, and
 
 154 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 the lights of the carriages, the glimpses of white- 
 cloaked women, even the couples upon the side 
 walk, opera-glasses in hand, made up a world 
 which John Hathaway looked at as if he were 
 observing it through a telescope. It was not 
 this world, that is, his world ; for his mood sees 
 nothing real save suffering, and forgets that there 
 is also " truth " in joy and beauty. 
 
 He turned into Van Hatten Park, and caught 
 the light in Charlotte Coverdale s windows. He 
 walked more slowly, and before he knew it he 
 had taken the longer way around the Park. It 
 was not reason and not conscience that had been 
 roused in him. To deal justly with John Hath 
 away, it must be said that it was not the folly or 
 the wrong that arrested him, nor was it loyalty 
 to his wife or to his own character. He might 
 have distinguished clearly enough next day what 
 he had sacrificed ; but if he had thought of that 
 now, he was in a mood to make the sacrifice and 
 take the consequences. He was not weighing 
 right and wrong, as he drew near the home of 
 Charlotte. But there arose before him her im 
 age : he saw her eyes, from which he had learned 
 to draw peace ; he heard her voice, in which was 
 the law of kindness ; he felt her presence, so 
 warmly human, so tender-womanly, yet rising 
 clear and pure in angelic rectitude. This was 
 not Charlotte as she knew herself in her own
 
 IN WHICH NOTHING HAPPENS. 155 
 
 heart, in the secret confessional where she told 
 herself her faults. The image before John Hath 
 away was, however, as true as any outward view 
 of character can be. 
 
 Peace and friendship he had found, and blame 
 lessly. Should he pass the line of freedom and 
 good-will by going to her to-night ? There was 
 supreme comfort in her presence, but it was com 
 fort not for him. That it might be for another 
 gave him pain which should have sufficed for 
 warning. But it was the vision of Charlotte, 
 alone, and no reasoning process, that arrested 
 him. That was not the woman to be wronged 
 by such a confession. He turned sharply upon 
 himself and reproached his unmanliness. Stung 
 with his own scorn, he crossed to the opposite 
 pavement and walked rapidly up town. Thus 
 are the decisions of the street-corners the mate 
 rials of a soul s history. 
 
 John Hathaway took his way homeward, shift 
 ing and settling his burden as he went. He 
 walked steadily under it when he once more en 
 tered his house. 
 
 " Is your headache better, John ? " his wife 
 asked kindly. " A walk in the open air " 
 
 " Clears the brain. Yes." 
 
 The wholesome commonplace was restored, 
 and Hathaway took his usual place by the even 
 ing lamp. He read a French novel till bedtime.
 
 156 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 Shall we ask after Charlotte, in the mean time ? 
 She did know and did see, more fully than John 
 Hathaway dreamed. She perceived, with tender 
 ness and dismay, that he looked to her more and 
 more for something that she longed and feared 
 to give. The temptation to sympathy is the 
 subtlest that can attack a woman. Charlotte 
 felt pity undermining her resolve. She was, 
 moreover, assailed by another approach ; she 
 would not have been woman had she not felt the 
 temptation of power. She saw moments, dis 
 tinct in her memory, moments which had been 
 hers for good or for evil. John Hathaway had 
 passed them in unconsciousness, but the woman s 
 divination had sounded the alarm. She fell to 
 brooding over the discovery, and was appalled 
 to find herself in moral confusion. She had 
 made the sort of mistake about herself that girls 
 dismissing their schoolbooks are wont to fall 
 into : she had supposed that her moral education 
 was complete. She found that there were pain 
 ful lessons still for her to learn. All her blame 
 was for herself, and unsparing blame it was. 
 She examined her own conduct, and reckoned 
 her mistakes. She would hear nothing from 
 herself in her defense. The very pity that welled 
 in her heart seemed, to her stern judgment, the 
 invasion of a home. There would come moments 
 in which the control of her emotions was so
 
 IN WHICH NOTHING HAPPENS. 157 
 
 relaxed that the punishment she put upon herself 
 had no effect. Joy in her power beset her with 
 its temptation, and whispered specious words 
 from below. She would start away from herself 
 in terror, and in humiliation too profound to be 
 expressed in spirit alone. With bowed head and 
 hidden face, she bent before her self -accusation ; 
 she rose with new knowledge of the struggle of 
 good and evil, with startled insight into the dis 
 integration of character that comes from love 
 unblessed. 
 
 Charlotte had a second discovery to make. 
 Harm she had done to others, that was clear 
 to her ; but she found that harm had also been 
 done to herself. Her serenity had been shat 
 tered ; a baleful self -consciousness had risen in 
 her ; restlessness had invaded her daily life. She 
 tried to remember that time when the future lay 
 level and accessible before her. She had left 
 that high table-land, and had descended into a 
 difficult pass. 
 
 Just at this time John Hathaway turned away 
 from her, and it happened naturally enough, as 
 it appeared, that she did not see him for many 
 days. She was never to know that her power 
 had indeed been tested. She tried to be glad of 
 Hathaway s absence, yet the fact that she missed 
 him revealed to her the real loneliness of her 
 life. She fell into self-pity, with Charlotte
 
 158 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 Coverdale the most morbid of symptoms. There 
 was nothing- to be done ; and the passive was 
 always difficult to her, and dangerous to her 
 health of mind. She could do nothing, was her 
 sad reflection: she could do nothing- but dedi 
 cate herself to friendship for John Hathaway s 
 children, and in that way henceforth be best 
 a friend to him. Ned had long ago constituted 
 himself Charlotte s cavalier. She liked him, 
 partly for himself and partly for his boy s world ; 
 while Ned liked cousin Charlotte because she 
 took him seriously, and treated him as an equal 
 and contemporary. The lad was passing out of 
 the intensely real world of boyhood into a new 
 world of thoughts and dreams, and fortunate it 
 was for him that Charlotte Coverdale was at 
 hand. Ned and his father were on excellent 
 terms, boys together or men together, as it hap 
 pened ; but the truth was that they saw but little 
 of each other. 
 
 " Ned," said Charlotte, " could n t you help 
 your father at his office now and then ? " 
 
 The sight of the boy s head over by the win 
 dow did Hathaway good, and the ride home on 
 the elevated railroad was not the same piece 
 of dogged endurance when the lad sat by his 
 father. 
 
 " That s right, Ned," said Charlotte, " don t 
 let your father get too tired."
 
 IN WHICH NOTHING HAPPENS. 159 
 
 Ned looked solemn, and accepted the respon 
 sibility. 
 
 One result of tlie boy s visits to the office was 
 an intimacy with young Austen, who took a 
 fancy to the little fellow. It was through Ned s 
 entreaties that Austen was finally invited to 
 Sunday night tea. 
 
 As for little Patty, she could do nothing bet 
 ter for her father than climb into his lap and 
 put her arms about his neck with the close, soft 
 clasp that filled him with comfort. Patty was a 
 child of few words, but of resolute affectionate- 
 ness. " She likes to have me. She likes to have 
 me hug her tight," said Patty, when Charlotte 
 was defended from her caresses. Patty, how 
 ever, was not without discrimination. 
 
 Charlotte saw her cousin frequently, and the 
 two women touched often upon the topic of 
 John s health. If Sue s devotion and anxiety in 
 speaking about her husband could have been 
 equaled by her tenderness in his presence, their 
 life might have been happier. 
 
 The weeks passed on, bearing on their surface 
 a record very different from that chronicled here. 
 This was a record of multiplying social engage 
 ments, in which Charlotte sought diversion from 
 the sad thoughts that haunted her. She found 
 it for the moment, but the gayety of a bright 
 company had no staying quality. She looked to
 
 1GO THE PET1UE ESTATE. 
 
 the old stable pleasures of her former life, chief 
 among them books and music. Her experience 
 of books in New York had been striking. She 
 had felt an impetus in her reading that was not 
 quite calm and healthy. Charlotte found her 
 essay or her novel more eagerly suggestive than 
 she could bear, with all life lying about her for 
 illustration. She envied her aunt her placid 
 biographies, with the orderly bookmark. Under 
 the stress of emotion, Charlotte turned to books. 
 Feeling confined her in narrow spaces where 
 there was not breath or air ; she sought the open 
 of the intellectual life. It was a sign to her of 
 misfortune that books, in her present mood, 
 appeared to her elusive and incoherent. She 
 craved music. She would be lapped in the 
 melting tenderness of a Chopin nocturne, in a 
 luxury of sweet pain ; or a Beethoven sonata 
 would possess and sway her with its profound 
 appeal. Still she found no rest in books or 
 music, she who had been so healthy and ra 
 tional in all her pleasures, so certain of her 
 hold on happiness. She reached a point of weak 
 ness at which she was ready to accept her un 
 rest as the natural fate, and but part of the 
 general sadness. 
 
 Mrs. Bisbee took Charlotte to task with char 
 acteristic energy. " My dear, this New York 
 winter is wearing upon you. You are working
 
 IN WHICH NOTHING HAPPENS. 101 
 
 too hard among those people of yours down 
 town." 
 
 " It is the best happiness I have," said Char 
 lotte with truth. 
 
 " You need a new interest ; an interest of 
 your own, an entirely selfish one. I wonder 
 where that lover is ! " 
 
 " Don t say such things, Mrs. Bisbee." 
 
 " It s all very well to keep happy by making 
 other people happy. It s more than half sad 
 when a young life has come to that." 
 
 " I have a great deal to make me happy," said 
 Charlotte, with a droop of the mouth. " I never 
 in my life had so much to make me happy." 
 And at that a tear came. 
 
 When, long after, Charlotte looked back, the 
 winter s experience fell into place, and had its 
 meaning.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AN INTERVIEW. 
 
 CHARLOTTE Co VERD ALE S life was crowded 
 with people, many of whom merely passed and 
 repassed her ; others came closer, and gave or 
 received. Charlotte, by nature, entered quickly 
 into other lives ; " got mixed up with all sorts 
 of people," as her cousin Sue expressed it. She 
 moved about in the human comedy, in contact 
 with a wide range of characters, and playing 
 many parts herself. In contrast with her for 
 mer quiet life, she appeared to be always now 
 upon the scene, involved in some one s joy or 
 sorrow. She exulted in the sense of other lives 
 keeping time with her own. Her heart beat 
 high to the thought that her days were bound 
 up with the multitudinous life of the great city. 
 She had a share in many experiences not re 
 corded here, and was known to many people who 
 took no part in that story we are following. 
 The fullness of her life is not to be lost sight 
 of, however, in the solitude in which we often 
 find her. 
 
 In the company of people that she moved
 
 AN INTERVIEW. 163 
 
 among, Richard Waring had remained in the 
 crowd. What she heard of him from the Hath- 
 aways only served to confuse her impression 
 of him, whether it was Grace s romantic ver 
 sion, or Mrs. Ilathaway s mention of him as a 
 person whom it was a kindness to invite to Sun 
 day night tea. Charlotte and Waring had met 
 several times since the evening at Mrs. Apple- 
 by s, but always in the presence of the Hathaway 
 family with more or less effort of adaptability 
 on all sides. At such times various neutralizing 
 influences were also at work to diminish the in 
 terest of each in the other. Waring s evident 
 devotion to Grace, and the young girl s flower- 
 like, involuntary turning to him, put a limit to 
 Charlotte s thought of him. No doubt, as she 
 observed them, there was in her feeling a dash 
 of feminine pique, as there was also a requiem 
 for her own youth, past and gone. Yet no one, 
 if called upon for an opinion, would have more 
 generously approved the relation between Grace 
 and Waring. Under his influence, all the en 
 folded possibilities of Grace s nature bade fair 
 to open in a beautiful bloom ; while for Waring 
 himself, what better thing could there be than 
 the grace and devotion of this lovable girl ? 
 
 Waring had an aesthetic appreciation of 
 Charlotte s presence. A dozen years earlier he 
 might have indulged in a six weeks rhapsody,
 
 104 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 had he met a woman with that smile upon those 
 lips. But life was not now so simple. The 
 subject of the Petrie estate was repugnant to 
 him ; and Miss Coverdale inevitably suggested 
 that freak of fortune. Though without surli 
 ness or envy, "Waring preferred to go his way, 
 and to leave on one side that troublesome topic 
 and all connected with it. That a good and 
 beautiful woman had come between him and 
 his fortune ought, perhaps, to be a mitigating 
 circumstance ; but as a fact it did little to alter 
 the soreness of James Petrie s memory. Char 
 lotte, in her complete assumption of her part, 
 appeared to him to have filled out the story and 
 to have brought it to a close. They were as far 
 removed from each other as it was possible for 
 two people to be, who sat chatting under the 
 sovereignty of one hostess. He looked at her 
 as remotely and impersonally as he might have 
 followed a heroine through his opera-glass. 
 
 Moreover, he was observing his friend Hath 
 away, and he saw something which he did not 
 altogether like, and for which he held Charlotte 
 Coverdale responsible. He said briefly to him 
 self that he did not fancy that sort of woman. 
 He had a distaste for that variety of flirtation ; 
 a gentleman did not need to go so far as moral 
 indignation. Yet he was no sooner in Char 
 lotte s presence than he felt his injustice to the
 
 AN INTERVIEW. 165 
 
 woman who looked out from those pure, faith 
 ful eyes. Or should he warn himself that this 
 might be the most subtle coquette of all ? 
 
 At all events, it was not until he found it in 
 the direct line of his duty that Waring ap 
 proached nearer to Charlotte Coverdale. The 
 last time they had met, he had said to her, 
 " Miss Coverdale, I am anxious to learn some 
 thing about your tenement-house reforms. You 
 are the best source of information. Could you 
 give me a half hour? Or do you object to the 
 interviewer ? " 
 
 A few evenings later, Waring s card was 
 brought to her. " The Citizen," engraved in 
 the corner, gave his visit an impersonal and 
 business character. Charlotte laid down the 
 card listlessly, then took it up again and looked 
 at it. 
 
 " Show Mr. Waring into the " she hesi 
 tated " into the library." 
 
 She altered a hairpin and took a delicate 
 handkerchief from a drawer, then went down 
 stairs. 
 
 Charlotte wore an indoor dress, which made 
 Waring somehow conscious that he was seeing 
 her in a new character. It seemed to blend her 
 with her home, and to give her an air of repose 
 and ownership. It was manifestly unfit for mid 
 day activities, and dedicated her to the graces
 
 1G6 THE PETR1E ESTATE. 
 
 of home. Her dress was to "Waring s eye a rich 
 confusion of red ; but if the details were lost 
 upon him, he could still be trusted to take the 
 impression and harmonize it with the wearer. 
 
 " Have you seen the llathaways to-day? " was 
 the commonplace with which they began. 
 
 " Mrs. Hathaway and I were shopping to 
 gether this morning," Charlotte replied. 
 
 " Hathaway is looking badly. I fear there is 
 something serious." 
 
 Charlotte shook her head sadly. 
 
 Waring s next remark was, " I am glad you 
 have taken hold of Grace. They ought not to 
 spoil that girl. Grace has stuff in her." 
 
 Charlotte was perplexed ; this was a style 
 more energetic than lover-like. 
 
 " You are right to put some Latin into her. 
 She will bear a good deal of that sort of thing, 
 without any danger of the blue-stocking. I am 
 conservative enough, but I like to see a girl like 
 Grace Hathaway get the right point of view, 
 see straight. I should be glad of it for her 
 father s sake." 
 
 Charlotte wondered still more. 
 
 "I am sorry for Hathaway." Waring paused, 
 with feeling. "He is breaking down, and not 
 much over forty. He has n t got out of life what 
 he ought to. You and I know them so well, we 
 can say as much as that."
 
 AN INTERVIEW. 167 
 
 " Ah, yes ! " 
 
 " I knew him twenty years ago. He was full 
 of life then. I never saw a young fellow more 
 eager for his plunge. But circiimstances have 
 been too much for him. He has gone under, 
 poor fellow ! " 
 
 Charlotte could only reply in sympathetic 
 monosyllables. 
 
 " I take great comfort in Ned and Patty," 
 she said at length. 
 
 " They are a first-rate little pair, are n t 
 they?" 
 
 " Their devotion to each other is the pretti 
 est sight I know. It makes me feel all I have 
 missed in not having a brother." 
 
 Waring found himself watching the play of 
 expression upon Charlotte s face. He caught 
 the shifting lights and shadows : the open light 
 upon her features would vanish away into her 
 deep eyes, and her face would grow sombre and 
 thoughtful. Then the light would appear again 
 at her eyes, and would glance across her lips 
 and break into a smile. The play of expres 
 sion in her voice he also followed. In the give 
 and take of conversation, Charlotte did her full 
 share; but the best tilings she said were elo 
 quent monosyllables, thrown in as she listened. 
 
 " You may not know that our paper has taken 
 up this subject," Waring was presently saying ;
 
 168 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 " has gone into it with a good deal of energy. 
 We are rather committed to it, in fact." 
 
 " I have read it all," said Charlotte. 
 
 " Have you, indeed ? Well, then, you know 
 the line we are taking." 
 
 Waring bent to business, and recapitulated 
 briefly. 
 
 " Those are the ideas I have been trying to 
 carry out," said Charlotte, also in her business 
 tone. The sentiment of Keyser Street was 
 quite in abeyance with both. 
 
 " Will you tell me? Will you answer my 
 questions ? The practical application of our 
 principles is just what we have wanted to get 
 at." 
 
 " I have never been interviewed before. Pray 
 deal gently with me," Charlotte smiled back at 
 him. 
 
 They went to work in earnest. Waring s 
 questions were searching and productive ; Char 
 lotte s replies had the merit of being answers to 
 these questions and not answers to any others. 
 Each recognized the other s mind, and felt the 
 charm and elation of the encounter. 
 
 The facts elicited need not be reported here, 
 since they formed the substance of articles pub 
 lished soon after in the " Citizen." At the end 
 of their talk, Waring, having a single eye to 
 the interests of his paper, put up his note-book
 
 AN INTERVIEW. 169 
 
 and besought Miss Coverdale herself to write 
 the proposed articles. But this she refused 
 to do. 
 
 " I am not literary. I cannot say things as 
 they should be said." 
 
 " You do them, instead. I see." 
 
 Both were right. Charlotte Coverdale wrote 
 a good letter if she loved the person she ad 
 dressed ; the moment the personal element was 
 lacking, she became stilted. She knew this, and 
 dropped her pen. Where the literary instinct 
 is to put into words, as Waring perceived, it 
 was her instinct to put into acts. 
 
 " I may have to run down there," he con 
 tinued. 
 
 "Do come. I am there on Tuesday and Fri 
 day mornings." 
 
 " And now will you answer one more ques 
 tion ? Does it pay ? " 
 
 " Sometimes I fear that I get more out of it 
 than any one else," said Charlotte, smiling 
 frankly. " For the people," she proceeded 
 carefully, " I think it means this, that is, if 
 we are talking now about the sentiment of the 
 thing?" 
 
 " Man does not live by bread alone." 
 
 " It means that we become business friends 
 instead of business enemies. The first thing to 
 establish is that there is mutiTal interest and
 
 170 THE PETE IE ESTATE. 
 
 benefit. You have no idea what a care of 
 me my people have. The women give me good 
 advice on every sort of subject." Charlotte 
 laughed to herself as she remembered some mo 
 therly advice about matrimony which she had 
 that day received. Waring smiled at her gay 
 little laugh, and felt twenty years older than 
 she. 
 
 " You should see the presents I have ! Would 
 you like to see some of my presents ? " 
 
 "By all means." And Charlotte half glee 
 fully, half tenderly produced from a cabinet a 
 pair of vases, various small baskets and boxes 
 of home decoration, and a crocheted hood of a 
 poisonous pink. 
 
 Charlotte looked at Waring, without com 
 ment ; and a tear filled her eye. She quickly 
 smiled it away, but the tear had been a confi 
 dence, and it placed them on a different foot 
 ing ; else Charlotte could not have said, " Yes, it 
 pays. Sometimes it seems the surest way to be 
 happy." 
 
 " Are you certain that that s altogether a 
 healthy view of it ? " 
 
 They were both silent for a moment. Sooner 
 or later they were certain to discuss the prob 
 lem of happiness, but there was a sense on the 
 part of both that they had not yet reached that 
 milestone of intimacy.
 
 AN INTERVIEW. 171 
 
 " There is a great amount of sociability 
 among ns in Keyser Street," said Charlotte. 
 
 " How about your visits to them ? " 
 
 " Oh, there is always the scouring of a chair, 
 and the offer of some refreshment, generally 
 from a bottle. Their idea of hospitality is some 
 thing that will pop. But I have even been of 
 fered pie." 
 
 " What did you do ? You did n t eat it ? " 
 
 " I never 11 tell ! " 
 
 Waring threw back his head and laughed like 
 a boy. 
 
 " I hope you will be interested in the new 
 house I am beginning to build on the next 
 block," said Charlotte, " with the kindergarten 
 room and the free baths and laundries." 
 
 Waring showed no lack of interest. " Do 
 you give away much money among these people ? 
 May I ask that ?" 
 
 " No ; I take a great deal of their money, on 
 the other hand. I have a bank, among other 
 things. I have spent a large amount of money 
 on the house, and have greatly reduced the in 
 come of the property, but I have spent no more 
 than the tenants had a right to, considering the 
 rent they pay." 
 
 Waring perceived that Miss Coverdale s social 
 theories were simple, as she herself was aware. 
 
 " It is yourself you give, then."
 
 172 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 " Yes, if you put it sentimentally. I thought 
 the Citizen never did that." 
 
 " There is no help for it occasionally. Sen 
 timent, or something you have to call by that 
 name, is at the heart of the whole matter." 
 
 " But I don t know," Charlotte continued, 
 " that I give more of myself to them than one 
 gives in any of the ordinary relations of life. 
 It seems human and natural enough when I am 
 with them. I thought it would be hard to es 
 tablish communication between us. At first I 
 felt the same sort of interest that I should have 
 had in reading about them. You remember 
 how Tolstoi complains of his society acquaint 
 ances when he took them to see the poor of 
 Moscow. They all cried out, to a man, C est 
 tres-interessant ! That was my helpless atti 
 tude precisely. But I found out how quickly 
 you can come near to people of the simpler sort. 
 We, in our sphere, are much longer in recogniz 
 ing each other." 
 
 " True indeed," said Waring, thinking of the 
 three months that had passed since he first met 
 Miss Coverdale. 
 
 " My business relation to my people helped 
 me very much. It kept me from intrusion upon 
 them, and gave me, for my own self-respect, a 
 raison d etre." 
 
 "Do you find, Miss Coverdale, that you can
 
 AN INTERVIEW. 173 
 
 alter their point of view? Make them discon 
 tented with their lot ? " 
 
 " Not so soon ; that will take years. If only 
 I can be given years, I have great hope." She 
 looked at him with such radiance of faith and 
 courage that he could not have doubted her 
 power to work miracles. 
 
 Suddenly Charlotte changed the subject. 
 " Do you remember, Mr. Waring, our talk about 
 my cousin James Petrie ? I hoped you might 
 like some books of his that were left with me. 
 Will you not look at them ? It would be a pleas- 
 sure to me to feel that you had something that 
 was his." Charlotte spoke simply, determined 
 to put aside the uneasy consciousness that had 
 warned her away from this subject once before. 
 She crossed the room to the bookcases. As he 
 followed her, Waring felt in all its force their 
 singular relation to each other. He never paid 
 to Charlotte a higher tribute than in walking- 
 
 O O 
 
 proudly after her. It was one of the moments 
 when both rose superior to the situation. Such 
 moments were brief : sorrow and struggle lay 
 before both the man and the woman before they 
 were securely above and out of reach of circum 
 stances. 
 
 " These were cousin James Petrie s books," 
 said Charlotte, " a few that he had by him in 
 his last days at the hospital."
 
 174 THE PETEIE ESTATE, 
 
 " Ah, his Boswell ! " exclaimed Waring. " I 
 remember when he bought that in London. It 
 is a good copy a fair page and fine margins, 
 and a leather binding to weather the next five 
 centuries." He took down a volume, and 
 mused over it. Charlotte noticed in him, and 
 liked it, that he stopped to think whenever he 
 felt inclined ; also, that, having said a thing, he 
 had the art of letting it alone. The simplicity 
 and frankness of his silences attracted her : she 
 was responsive to them and said nothing. 
 
 There was a peaceful murmur of the fire, most 
 intimate and indoor of sounds. Without, the dull 
 roar of the city but served to shut in Charlotte s 
 library, and to make it a spot remote and still. 
 
 " He never lost appetite for his Boswell," said 
 Waring, as he returned the book to its place ; 
 " and what was more, he never forgave anybody 
 who did. Love me, love my books that was 
 James Petrie." 
 
 " I am like him, then," said Charlotte. 
 
 " I am not sure but I am, too." 
 
 " Then you will let me send you the Boswell, 
 will you not ? " Charlotte begged him. 
 
 He thanked her, and then they wandered to 
 other shelves, and spoke no more of James Pe 
 trie. Looking over books in company draws 
 people together or drives them apart : it never 
 leaves them quite where it found them. War-
 
 AN INTERVIEW. 175 
 
 ing took down volume after volume, with greet- 
 in^ and recognition as of friends in the flesh. 
 
 O o 
 
 A book-lover s encounter with old acquaintance 
 is a sight pleasant to the eye. With each liking 
 that Charlotte and Waring found in common, 
 there was a little stir of surprise and pleasure, 
 as on the discovery of common friends when far 
 from home. A book has one of its finest uses 
 as a touchstone of sympathy, and serves one of 
 its happiest purposes in uniting and holding 
 those who love it. Waring ventured to speak 
 out as he might have spoken to an assured 
 friend and fellow-reader among men. He had 
 said to himself that he could not do this among 
 women : the risk was too great. He had not 
 the courage to face ignorance, only to be obliged 
 to beat an awkward retreat to another subject. 
 
 He had mounted the library steps, and had 
 helped himself to a volume of old poetry. 
 
 " See this," he said, standing on the lower 
 step, and putting the book into Charlotte s 
 hand. " Read that. " He watched her as she 
 read, and she knew that he watched her. Then 
 they looked at the sonnet together, he reading 
 across her arm. She gave the book back to him 
 with a sigh of delight. 
 
 " Divination, is n t it ? The truth, abso 
 lutely." Waring looked at her. 
 
 "Zes/"
 
 176 THE PETR1E ESTATE. 
 
 " Why don t we have such poetry nowadays ? 
 Why have we nothing but magazine head and 
 tail pieces? " 
 
 " You are hard on us." 
 
 " Here is another." 
 
 The second was a love sonnet. Charlotte 
 read it obediently and simply, but she did not 
 look iip into his face at once. He read aloud 
 the last lines, and paused, but she made no com 
 ment. 
 
 " The rhythm is good," said Waring, at last. 
 
 "Ah, yes, the rhythm is good," said Charlotte, 
 in a low voice. She looked up in relief and 
 faced him again, the poetry lingering still in her 
 beautiful eyes. She had no power to toss off 
 the impression with gay coquetry. 
 
 "You have a good supply of novels," said 
 Waring. " All the old masters, I see." 
 
 Waring had himself written a novel before 
 he was twenty-five, which he now hoped was for 
 gotten and forgiven. Nevertheless, the book 
 had been a not unprofitable failure. For exam 
 ple, it had made him an excellent novel-reader 
 and critic of fiction, as Charlotte soon found. 
 
 " You still enjoy novels ? " he said. 
 
 " As I still enjoy life." 
 
 " Would they were always the same ! " 
 
 Charlotte looked thoughtful. " The good 
 novel often seems to UK; more real than life
 
 AN INTERVIEW. 177 
 
 itself," she said slowly. " It is so much the 
 record of the inner life, of what the naked eye 
 can never see. It is we that are moving 
 about in an unreal world. It is the real, inner 
 world that the novelist sees. He is the mind- 
 reader. The novelist has a great task to reveal 
 us to each other, to interpret us, to educate our 
 sympathies. Oh, don t you think so ? " 
 
 Her sudden, impulsive appeal touched Waring. 
 It was as if she depended greatly upon his agree 
 ing with her. In fact, when Charlotte argued, 
 it appeared to be mainly that she might win 
 sympathy and companionship in her opinions. 
 She had many times had courage to hold an 
 opinion alone, but she was not happy in it. 
 Waring found himself assenting to what she 
 said, half because he agreed with her, half out 
 of a chivalrous desire to accompany and support 
 her in any opinion whatever. So the human 
 interest and the intellectual interest are forever 
 entangled between man and woman. 
 
 Waring carried an admirable time-piece, and 
 he seldom consulted any other. He was oblivi 
 ous of a clock in the room, and he had, constitu 
 tionally, but little sense of time. He never 
 looked at his watch but he found it much earlier 
 or much later than he thought. The talk ran 
 on, away from the book-shelves, out into the 
 world, across the ocean, home again, searching,
 
 178 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 exploring, revealing. The mellow chime of the 
 library clock measured off the half hours faith 
 fully, but roused in the visitor no consciousness 
 of the flight of time. 
 
 " Was ii t Mr. Waring a little late in going 
 away, dear?" said aunt Cornelia, next morn 
 ing. 
 
 " I think he forgot to go," said Charlotte, 
 laughing softly. " It was a pity you were too 
 tired to come down, aunt Cornelia," she added, 
 already uncandid. 
 
 " You must have been tired yourself, dear. I 
 call it very inconsiderate in a caller. I have 
 seen people that stayed so. There s Mrs. 
 Bunn, Dr. Bunn s wife." 
 
 Charlotte caught her aunt s hand in her own, 
 and pressed it a moment against her cheek. 
 Aunt Cornelia smiled upon her, but thought a 
 caress so early in the morning a little singular.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 EEVERIE. 
 
 THE books were sent to Waring, and were 
 acknowledged in the next mail by a note whose 
 grace, brevity, and handwriting arrested Char 
 lotte. This last she studied. It was small, 
 square, and clear as type, the handwriting of 
 the literary temperament as distinct from the 
 business man s shaded curves, or the large, flow 
 ing script of women. 
 
 Meanwhile, Waring had set the ten volumes 
 of Boswell upon his shelves. He had at first 
 felt inclined to put them out of sight, but some 
 secondary association, beyond the memory of 
 James Petrie, led him to keep their suggestion 
 before his eyes. He was more disposed to take 
 down the Boswell, that Charlotte Coverdale 
 so he heard her called by the Hathaways, and 
 so he lingered over the name that Charlotte 
 Coverdale had confessed to a particular kind 
 ness for Doctor Johnson and his scribe. War 
 ing had little self-consciousness, and he allowed 
 himself to dwell freely upon his interview with
 
 180 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 Charlotte, pronouncing her name to himself with 
 entire abandon, unsuspicious of symptoms and 
 heedless of consequences. It was well that he 
 brought to bear upon civil affairs keener insight 
 than he gave to the operations of his own mind. 
 He was equally dull as to the workings of Grace 
 Hathaway s young heart. He noticed that the 
 girl was developing in mind and character, but 
 he was quite unaware of the soiirce of inspira 
 tion. He was a busy man and a modest man. 
 Nevertheless, had there been no one else by, it 
 is likely that with Grace and Waring things 
 might have tended gently and gradually to a 
 common result. But it happened that some one 
 else was by, and that another influence crossed 
 the simple course of events. Grace Hathaway 
 went dreaming on her way, and walked in a 
 golden haze, while Richard Waring s thoughts 
 dwelt upon the calm theme of her defective edu 
 cation and the means to mend it. The hope lay, 
 so he meditated, in Grace s gift of adaptability : 
 she was evidently capable of adjusting herself to 
 a considerable amount of culture. Singular gift 
 of American women ! There was Charlotte 
 Coverdale ; there was a triumph of adaptabil 
 ity: a year ago at some convent or other, and 
 now as he saw her. lie let his thoughts have 
 their way, and loiter about her image. Yet, he 
 mused, there was a trace of the cloister, now and
 
 EEVEEIE. 181 
 
 then. He knocked the ashes from his cigar de 
 liberately and thoughtfully. The woman grown 
 to maturity in New York would have lost that 
 quality long ago. What quality? Waring 
 pursued it up and down, but could not capture 
 the idea he wanted. He had once or twice seen 
 that look in the faces of nuns. He had seen it 
 in the faces of one or two rare Madonnas, and 
 had bowed to the genius that put it there. 
 
 Certain people, as well as certain events, bid 
 us pause. His new knowledge of Charlotte 
 Coverdale made Waring stop short and take ac 
 count of himself. As he lighted another cigar 
 and settled himself to think of her, by some re 
 flex action he thought of himself. He was sit 
 ting at midnight in his " garret." The murmur 
 of Grub Street as he also pleased to say 
 was dying out far below his windows. His 
 rooms were high away at the top of a plain, 
 hard-working studio building, in an unfashion 
 able down-town quarter. He fraternized with 
 artists, and had at last taken up his abode lit 
 erally under their roof. Sloping rafters and a 
 skylight fulfilled the conception of a garret ; and 
 when disposed for work, Waring plumed himself 
 on possessing the most inaccessible solitude in 
 New York. It was worth one s while to look 
 about the " garret." Mrs. Bisbee had once held 
 forth as follows : " When they do have taste,
 
 182 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 when they are not color-blind, I tell you, my 
 dear, men have the best taste going. None of 
 your feminine prettiness and fussiness, and clut 
 ter and toggery. They set us an example. They 
 are severe and simple and dignified." 
 
 Waring had a stern sense of beauty. His 
 rooms were a trifle bare, square, and uncompro 
 mising, vastly comfortable, but sumptuous only 
 in color. Warm, strong reds, blues, and yellows 
 tumbled about together. Heavy curtains hung 
 carelessly, and rugs lay at all angles. There 
 were half a dozen oil paintings, and many pho 
 tographs with scanty framing. Waring s eyes 
 rested now on a Madonna above his desk, a 
 favorite with him, though a modern and not a 
 famous picture. He had looked at it for years, 
 but no familiarity could exhaust the beauty of 
 that face, with its speaking look of unspeakable 
 experience. Was it the perfect woman incarnate 
 once, and then lost to the world forever ? War 
 ing had preserved a saving remnant of the old 
 religion. He glanced at the Madonna to-night, 
 and knew that his faith in divine womanhood 
 was with him still. 
 
 These pictures, he mused, and a few cathe 
 drals were about all that was left to him of 
 religion. A mother is the natural teacher of 
 religion, and the child who has missed her in 
 struction has often to learn it under the sterner,
 
 EEVEEIE. 183 
 
 more difficult discipline of life. Waring had in 
 his boyhood, under the Biblical lessons of a 
 young English tutor, put on a system of religious 
 belief which he had worn on the outside for some 
 years. Little by little, almost without his know 
 ledge or consent, it had dropped away from him. 
 He had lost everything but the instinct of wor 
 ship. He had erected in his heart an altar to 
 the Unknown God. Standing with bared head 
 beneath the star-ypointing arches of a Gothic 
 cathedral, he was moved with a mighty Pres 
 ence ; but he could go no farther. Now, look 
 ing to his Madonna, he yearned to believe in im 
 mortality. Beyond the subtleties of expression 
 was the spiritual process by which that longing 
 had grown out of the sight of Charlotte Cover- 
 dale. No distinct thought of her came to the 
 surface as he continued his introspection and 
 retrospection. Yet there is no such power to 
 throw back upon a man s life an illuminating 
 flash of self-knowledge as the approach of a 
 woman at once good and beautiful. Waring 
 dwelt upon his boyhood. James Petrie had 
 made a companion of the lad. He took him 
 about with him freely, without much comment 
 or instruction. He oftener asked the boy his 
 opinion than gave his own. He took care to 
 give him sound premises, and let him reach his 
 own conclusions. James Petrie was wiser than
 
 184 THE PETE IE ESTATE. 
 
 many a parent, because he was able to view his 
 boy objectively, and not subjectively. lie saw 
 in him strong attractions and repulsions, sensi 
 tive echoes and reflections, and a nature in which 
 the balance must be kept nicely adjusted between 
 sentiment and practical affairs. He labored to 
 lay deep underneath this temperament a few in 
 exorable principles ; and after that, he attempted 
 no superficial management of the lad s life. 
 Volition he strove to teach him, and no less, in- 
 hibitive volition, for the old gentleman rel 
 ished a scientific phrase now and then. James 
 Petrie found Yankee humor an invaluable ally 
 in bringing up the boy. A good story or a laugh 
 in the right place was worth a half day s preach 
 ing. All this Waring understood now, as he 
 thought it over, half tenderly, half humorously, 
 altogether gratefully. Well he remembered the 
 lessons in American patriotism that James Petrie 
 had taught him, as they walked the streets of 
 the foreign city. The exile had done his best to 
 fire the blood of the American boy. Over there 
 to the West lay the country of his dreams, the 
 world s hope, the leader into the future. " And 
 our experiment must succeed. The future of 
 the whole world depends upon it. Go over 
 there, my boy, and do your share. Help develop 
 the resources of the country, as they say of their 
 mines and railroads. But do you develop the
 
 REVERIE. 185 
 
 resources of America in a different way. Leave 
 other men to take care of material progress. 
 Mind and manners need cultivating. The Amer 
 ican has the best start in life, the best all-round 
 endowment of nature : he s got brains and prin 
 ciples, and body enough for threescore years 
 and ten. Now let him go ahead ! Moreover, if 
 you want a future of your own, my boy, go over 
 there and step into your inheritance. Keep Eu 
 rope for your playground." 
 
 The boy had said little, but he had listened 
 with all his soul. He had dreamed of that fair 
 young country beyond the seas, to which he was 
 bidden to give heart and hand. Pie thought of 
 her with romantic devotion and with sweet anti 
 cipation of serving her. Waring, twenty years 
 after, mused and sighed over the boy that was 
 no more. In his English school-days he had 
 heard many a slur upon America, and the most 
 gratifying victory he had ever won was when he 
 gave an honest Saxon drubbing to the boy who 
 flouted the Yankees. In the same faith he had 
 gone home, and had delivered his Commence 
 ment oration four years later. Then came the 
 plunge ! After considerable beating of the 
 waves, gulping and gasping and floundering, 
 the young man found himself with his head 
 above water : reporter for the " Citizen." He had 
 left college, a young Atlas, the world upon his
 
 186 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 shoulders. He felt some centuries older than 
 his country, and did not doubt his mission to 
 bring her up. These views were much modified 
 as the years passed, but an idea had been planted 
 by James Petrie, which took root. 
 
 Before he was twenty-five, as has been said, 
 the young man had written a novel, which was 
 a failure, crushed, in fact, under a particularly 
 clever title. The book, however, had been a suc 
 cess, if we go no farther than Waring himself, 
 and do not trouble ourselves with the public. It 
 had trained in him the habit of observation, and 
 had thus vastly increased his power of self-enter 
 tainment. No one could better afford to be a 
 lonely man ; so he had until the other day been 
 accustomed to tell himself. His youthful novel, 
 moreover, had led him to look to the springs of 
 conduct, and had developed his judgment and 
 his sympathy. It strengthened his grasp of 
 human problems, and helped to fit him for grap 
 pling with them in journalism. He maintained, 
 in later years, that fiction and journalism all 
 cheap jokes to the contrary should be help 
 meets of each other, at least in the early part of 
 a man s career. When Waring got so that he 
 could laugh about it, lie felt that he had laid the 
 ghost of his dead novel. It was long, however, 
 before he could digest the laughter of other peo 
 ple. In the first glow of authorship, he had pre-
 
 EEVEE1E. 187 
 
 sented a copy of his work to a young lady whose 
 favor ho had much at heart. She thanked him, 
 but never spoke to him of the book afterwards, 
 and was discovered to have had a treacherous 
 laugh about it with a college chum of Waring s. 
 The young author was certain that he had made 
 a fool of himself in her sight, and the pang 
 killed love dead. We hear no more of Miss 
 Alice Leach. A period of sulkiness followed, 
 next a period of cynicism, then gradual recovery 
 of common-sense. 
 
 Kichard Waring was, in fact, a trifle too 
 fond of regarding himself as a disappointed 
 man. He had had literary ambitions, and he 
 had stuck fast in journalism ; there was a hitch 
 in his career. Certain sources of inspiration 
 had failed him. As for women, one conception 
 was too remotely enshrined to rain heavenly in 
 fluence upon his daily task ; while the real woman 
 was too near and too obviously imperfect. Pos 
 sibly he was of the race of men who have " loved 
 Antigone in another life." Another source of 
 inspiration had failed him. His patriotism had 
 been a pure fire that had warmed and lighted 
 not only heart but mind ; but the fire kindled 
 at a high altar had flickered and died down as 
 he took up his pen to deal with the reality. 
 Weak optimism, that blinks the facts, he would 
 none of, he said to himself : he would sec things
 
 188 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 as they are. It was not to be expected of him 
 that he should have as yet the love or the wis 
 dom to see things as they are. By the time we 
 know him, all that was left of "Waring s glowing 
 patriotism was a sense of responsibility. It was 
 his most serious charge against his community 
 that this sense was so often absent. Are we 
 light, as a race, he pondered, spite of our leaven 
 of Puritan England ? He had never been able 
 to rouse John Hathaway to serious citizenship. 
 Many a fault-finding editorial he had aimed at 
 Hathaway and his like ; a neat, forcible piece of 
 writing, which his friend praised the next day 
 for its literary excellence. 
 
 In his daily work, Waring did his duty as a 
 matter of personal dignity. Of course he did 
 it, would have been all he had to say. He was 
 no prig ; yet, if nothing better had offered, he 
 was a man capable of making a religion out of 
 self-respect. Pie gave his work little credit, and 
 he got little inspiration from it. Before the 
 public every day, Waring, nevertheless, felt 
 himself growing old in the cheerless obscurity 
 of the journalist, who emerges before his reader 
 only in his obituary. 
 
 By sheer force he maintained a life of his 
 own, and Tip to this time had resisted the in 
 sidious encroachments of his profession. His 
 doctrine of personal liberty had often been dis-
 
 EEVEEIE. 189 
 
 cussed by Waring with Hathaway, in a chaf 
 fing, idiomatic language of their own, a de 
 lightful substitute for the terms of the ped 
 ants. In truth, the slang of refined men is the 
 most delicious thing English can afford. War 
 ing, it must be admitted, believed in far more 
 leisure than he attained, and kept up a quarrel 
 with New York life because it thwarted his 
 principles. Recreation by daylight should be 
 possible in a community without incurring the 
 charge of sloth or effeminacy. He had some 
 what wrathfully to call himself one of the busi 
 est men in the city, yet he occasionally escaped 
 from his indoor, steam-heated associates, and 
 wandered by the Bronx River or along the Pali 
 sades. Without talking much about it, he 
 loved nature. In the world he frequented, 
 there was much friction of wits and much good 
 fellowship, yet he often left men and women, 
 to find in books more adequate companionship. 
 This was always with a regret. Books were the 
 best thing in life to him ; he had a conviction 
 that they should be the second-best. This and 
 his other limitations he charged to the literary 
 temperament, whose temptations he observed 
 with interest. No moral or intellectual sense of 
 these dangers had power to change him : it was 
 only a shock of emotion that could make a dif 
 ferent man of him.
 
 190 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 And still there ran on the undercurrent of 
 his thoughts : Charlotte Coverdale, Charlotte 
 Coverdale loved books, but they appeared with 
 her a means to an end ; the human interest was 
 supreme with her. She must be called an intel 
 lectual woman, he supposed ; but she was more, 
 including that by right. That also was a means 
 to an end. Waring meditated, as solitude 
 helped him to meditate, solitude or Charlotte 
 Coverdale, had he but observed it. 
 
 Thus began for these two the double life of 
 lovers. In each, the inner and real life went on 
 with its own events, while remote, on the outer 
 rim of a wide circle, revolved the other life, vis 
 ible to the bystanders.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ON FURTHER ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 " Should one of us remember, 
 And one of us forget," 
 
 sang Grace, with a soft-flowing accompaniment 
 of piano-notes. She sang it low and tender ; she 
 sang it loud and impassioned. 
 
 " Oh, Grace," cried Patty, " please don t ! 
 Play a dancing-tune now. You know I ve 
 got to teach cousin Charlotte this step. She 
 just began it the other day." 
 
 " Should one of us remember, 
 And one of us forget," 
 
 hummed Grace, turning over her music. She 
 began to play a heart - breaking waltz, and 
 poured her whole soul into its tender melancholy. 
 "This Patty?" 
 
 " No, the other music," said Patty. " Come, 
 cousin Sharlie, you know you said you d dance 
 with me." Patty clung about Charlotte, and 
 coaxed and cooed. Grace played the dance ab 
 sently, murmuring still, " Should one of us re 
 member," till she was put out by the lively
 
 192 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 music under her fingers, and the song died 
 away. Patty, with little airs of knowledge and 
 superiority, was now instructing her favorite 
 pupil in the intricacies of a new step. 
 
 " One, two, three, four, five, six," Patty 
 counted severely. " That s it, that s it, cousin 
 Charlotte. Two slides, then a hop, then three 
 little springs that just go with the music. It s 
 very hard : it took me ever so long to learn it. 
 And there s one boy at our dancing-school, he 
 never could learn it. He just goes round and 
 round and steps on your toes. You do it beauti 
 fully, cousin Charlotte, and you ve had only 
 two lessons." 
 
 Charlotte laughed and dropped a courtesy. 
 
 " Now we 11 go. round the room," said Patty 
 triumphantly. u Just take hold of hands, and 
 go round. Such fun ! " Patty bubbled over 
 with laughter, as they sailed off together down 
 the length of Charlotte s drawing-room. The 
 two made a rare couple : Patty with her short 
 skirts and trim little legs, revolving about Char 
 lotte s tall figure and clinging train. The dance 
 and the music mounted to their faces and lit 
 them with gayety. They were all a-dance from 
 head to foot, from foot to head. Up and down 
 they went, in and out, around and behind tables 
 and chairs, tripped over rugs, recovered them 
 selves without losing the step ; danced up to a
 
 ON FURTHER ACQUAINTANCE. 193 
 
 mirror, laughed into it, and then retreated down 
 the room ; separated, danced off alone, then pur 
 suing each other, caught hands again, and came 
 breathless to the piano, to whirl about Grace, 
 their delighted spectator. 
 
 " Play faster, Grace, play faster," cried 
 Patty. 
 
 Off and away again, curls and hair-pins fly 
 ing, ribbons streaming, till they ended in a 
 grand romp, and fell in a heap on the sofa. 
 
 " Oh, cousin Charlotte," panted the little girl, 
 " you are the very nicest person to dance with I 
 ever danced with. You are a great deal better 
 than a boy." 
 
 Charlotte was clutching her hair and securing 
 it when a voice was heard beyond the portiere. 
 
 * I beg pardon, Miss Coverdale ; I was told to 
 come directly up." 
 
 " Mr. Waring ! " said Charlotte helplessly, 
 while Grace and Patty stood in the background 
 scandalized and delighted with this adventure. 
 It was the result of an appointment to visit 
 Keyser Street together, an agreement which 
 had cost the exchange of several notes, and had, 
 after all, resulted in misunderstanding. The 
 servant had been instructed that Mr. Waring 
 would arrive an hour later and that he was to 
 be shown to the drawing-room. Arrived at the 
 top of the stairs, he was met by the music of a
 
 194 THE FETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 lively dance, and was considerably astonished to 
 see the dance itself in progress. He should, of 
 course, have retired ; it is not easy to apologize 
 for him. For one moment, when he met Char 
 lotte s flushed, reproachful face, he felt remorse, 
 but he soon hardened into unrepentant satisfac 
 tion in the pretty scene. In a moment they had 
 both decided to be frank, and laugh all they 
 liked. It was proof that they were no longer 
 girl and boy. 
 
 " I was not aware of this character," said 
 Waring gravely. 
 
 " Nor was I. I am finding it out," and Char 
 lotte blushed again. 
 
 By some funny little mental process, Patty 
 had concluded that Charlotte was in a position 
 that needed defending. She came forward, and 
 clung to her, and looked out resolutely at the 
 intruder from under Charlotte s arm. The child 
 nestled closer, and said to Waring, and to no 
 body else, " Cousin Charlotte is so so dear ! " 
 Then, at the unexpected little adjective, she re 
 treated hastily behind her cousin, embarrassed 
 by her own boldness. Charlotte felt a merci 
 less blush steal upon her again. She tossed 
 back her head to drive it off, and said, " You 
 will find me there by twelve. I cannot go now. 
 I have promised to be here the next hour. You 
 will forgive me ? You will come ? "
 
 ON FURTHER ACQUAINTANCE. 195 
 
 Waring presented himself in Keyser Street 
 later in the morning. He found Charlotte 
 seated at her desk, turning over accounts. She 
 was obliged to ask him to wait for a few mo 
 ments. 
 
 " Don t speak to me ; I am adding," he heard 
 her saying to a tenant, and smiled to himself 
 that a young lady who had once been able to 
 calculate an eclipse should now require an un 
 ruffled mind to add a column of dollars and 
 cents. He watched her business methods with 
 interest. He had seen women overdo the busi 
 ness-like, he said : affect the curt, hard, and 
 smart. Miss Coverdale wasted no words, but 
 she laid aside nothing of the woman or the lady. 
 Her intonation had the sympathy and charm 
 that had won Mrs. Appleby s guests, and society 
 in Keyser Street responded to it precisely as it 
 did in Belgravia. He noticed not only the kind 
 ness of her words and deeds, but the little kind 
 nesses of inflection that were scattered through 
 her speech. 
 
 Charlotte concluded a bargain with a young 
 girl who was to come to her as a housemaid, a 
 worn, wild-eyed girl, rescued from the sewing- 
 machine. A clothes-line dispute had reached such 
 dimensions that it \vas referred to her by the 
 housekeeper, and was settled with wit and diplo 
 macy. Kent was paid to Charlotte, and money
 
 196 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 was deposited with her to earn interest. Money 
 in one case was borrowed from her. She turned 
 to Waring as the last woman left the room. 
 " Do you see that I am also a pawnbroker ? 
 I never lend without security. Do you see this 
 piece of Russian jewelry? These people ran 
 into debt for the baby s funeral. Can t you say 
 something or do something to help me there ? 
 The funeral in high life is bad enough, but the 
 funeral at this level is sinful. Have you heard 
 of funerals on the installment plan ? " 
 
 Waring noticed that she insisted upon her 
 foreign tenants using the English language, and 
 encouraged them to increase and improve their 
 store of words. Many came in to speak to 
 Charlotte ; many paused at the door, and looked 
 in, bowing and smiling. Her coming was the 
 event of the day, and hardly one in the great 
 house but contrived to have a word or a look 
 from their sovereign lady. 
 
 " Will you come over the house now? " said 
 Charlotte, closing her desk. 
 
 Their tour of inspection revealed many 
 changes since the day when Charlotte had made 
 her first visit : but, as she led the way and com 
 mented upon the house, she threw the great work 
 of reform into the future. Waring marveled at 
 her knowledge of her people : of their family his 
 tory, their present life, its cares and pleasures
 
 ON FURTHER ACQUAINTANCE. 197 
 
 and prospects. He listened with the greed of 
 the literary man for material. To the novelist 
 in him it was a new world to conquer. 
 
 They made their way to the roof, and looked 
 up to the blue sky, and down upon the seething 
 life below. Charlotte, tired with the stairs, sat 
 down on the division line of the roofs, while her 
 companion walked to the edge, and looked over 
 both sides, then came back and stood in front 
 of her. They had met hitherto in conventional 
 places. Mrs. Appleby to the contrary notwith 
 standing, Waring and Charlotte had not seen 
 each other under the most favorable conditions 
 when they had met in her well-organized draw 
 ing-room. The roof of a house in Keyser Street 
 answered far better. All their social Imped 
 imenta were dropped. There was to each a 
 fascination in seeing the other with this blank 
 absence of background. Fifteen minutes in an 
 unfamiliar situation carried them farther than 
 months of drawing-room acquaintance. 
 
 Charlotte held away at first from the personal 
 relation. 
 
 " You know we are looking down upon the 
 most thickly settled spot on the globe." 
 
 " Yes ; " and they both reflected. 
 
 " A little while ago I was in great confusion 
 of mind," said Charlotte, drawn irresistibly. " I 
 wish I could have talked with you then," she
 
 198 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 said with sudden confidence. The look of lovely 
 appeal endeared her to him. 
 
 "People in New York the others seemed 
 so unjustly rich." 
 
 " Beastly rich." 
 
 " You are too hard upon them. A man s a 
 man for a that. But I have not solved the prob 
 lem of wealth for any one but myself. I think 
 I have found out the thing I ought to do." She 
 looked up with eyes that he remembered next 
 day. 
 
 " I have wondered perhaps you could tell 
 me," said Charlotte, speaking slowly, after a 
 silence. " I have wondered if my cousin 
 your friend would have been glad to have me 
 use his money in this way." 
 
 Waring felt a curious emotional contraction, 
 but he answered promptly. 
 
 "He would have rejoiced in it. He would 
 have called it serving your country. He was a 
 good American." 
 
 " Though he lived abroad forty years ? " 
 
 " Because he lived abroad forty years. He 
 idealized America. Ilis America was Utopia. 
 It was his grand passion. He somehow personi 
 fied his country, and got affection enough out of 
 her to make up for absence of family ties." 
 
 Charlotte sighed. " I should like to be doing 
 something now that would please him. If you
 
 ON FURTHER ACQUAINTANCE. 199 
 
 ever heard him speak of anything he would care 
 to have done, you will tell me ? " 
 
 As she spoke, they looked at each other. It 
 was as if they perceived a double relation be 
 tween them, as if they were figures walking 
 about in a story outside the spot where they 
 were quietly face to face now. Waring felt a 
 desire to draw away from that story relation they 
 bore to each other, and from all external circum 
 stances. They grew oblivious of lower New 
 York, forgot the tenement-house question, and 
 abandoned themselves to the selfishness a deux 
 which marks an early stage of happy love, and 
 sometimes lasts, for good and for evil, through 
 its entire course. At length they absently made 
 their way down the stairs, noticing nothing this 
 time as they passed out into the street and turned 
 homeward. 
 
 Days came and went, but they bore a new 
 mark. There was a Wednesday that was like 
 no other Wednesday ; a tenth of March like no 
 other tenth of March since the calendar was 
 framed. Waring liked Charlotte Coverdale s 
 society, and he dropped into it whenever the op 
 portunity offered. When an opportunity did 
 not offer, he made one in a straightforward, in 
 genuous fashion. Charlotte might have called 
 him irresponsible and self-seeking, but it is not 
 at all likely that she did so. She thought him
 
 200 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 occasionally boyish for his years, and never 
 liked him better than at such times. He had 
 kept what most men lose. Rare are the people 
 who, having full minds, speak out from them 
 with the spontaneity and with the lovable ego 
 tism of childhood. The prattle of the intellec 
 tual man is one of the fine pleasures of human in 
 tercourse. The prattle of the intellectual woman 
 has not yet been heard, and perhaps, for reasons 
 that lie deep, will never be possible. 
 
 Richard Waring, in business relations, was a 
 reserved man ; in social relations, there were 
 a half dozen people to whom he spoke out his 
 thoughts with freedom and unconsciousness. 
 Having once discovered that he could do this 
 with Charlotte Coverdale, he liked her simply 
 and frankly. There was no looking iip or look 
 ing down in their relation to each other. War 
 ing went straight out from the level of his mind 
 and met Charlotte on the level of hers. It was 
 the outlook and the method of the two that dif 
 fered in the many subjects beaten out between 
 them. 
 
 So far as he knew his own mind, Waring ad 
 mired Charlotte Coverdale more than he had 
 ever admired woman before. To teach him 
 more of his own mind, some shock of events was 
 a necessity. And what of Charlotte ? Her 
 finger was upon her own pulse. She was on the
 
 OJV FURTHER ACQUAINTANCE. 201 
 
 defensive. Waring s absence of self -conscious 
 ness still showed itself in the frank pauses of 
 his talk. He frequently stopped to reflect as he 
 talked with Charlotte, and by some woman s 
 mind-reading she knew that he was thinking 
 about her. She struggled to resist the fascina 
 tion of these moments of silence ; she would 
 talk, to break their spell ; but Waring s listen 
 ing only bound her faster. Her softest syllable, 
 her lightest movement, he followed. She would 
 move across the room, and set about doing some 
 thing, striving to beat against the charm of his 
 attention. 
 
 Now and then Charlotte would make a desper 
 ate appeal to her loyalty to young Grace Hath 
 away. Grace s love-story began to take on a 
 new and alarming interest. At times she fan 
 cied Waring as thoughtless and irresponsible in 
 matters of the heart as he was serious in affairs 
 of the intellect. But she made the significant 
 discovery that to think harshly of him cost her 
 more pain than the other heartache. She gave 
 up reasoning and resistance, and, as she told her 
 self, lived only from day to day. 
 
 It chanced one day that Charlotte had spent a 
 long hour with an admirable woman, with whom 
 she was agreed upon all the great essentials of 
 life ; a woman with every sort of intelligence save 
 the intelligence of the heart, with every grace of
 
 202 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 intellect save the crowning grace of imagination. 
 There had been a clash of temperaments, that 
 was all ; and Charlotte returned home as if under 
 leaden skies. Her thoughts were chill and low 
 ering. She reflected that it was vastly harder 
 to be tolerant of differences of temperament than 
 of differences of intellect. After all, here was 
 the great inequality of fortune. Life was rich 
 or poor, difficult or easy, a failure or a success, 
 according to temperament. Then she fought the 
 idea, and agreed with Mrs. Bisbee. " We hear 
 too much nowadays about temperament," that 
 lady had said, " and not enough about character. 
 Thinking too much about one s temperament is 
 like thinking too much about one s digestion," 
 said Mrs. Bisbee vigorously. Yet the chasm of 
 difference between people ! How hopeless to ig 
 nore it and to force sympathy ! So Charlotte 
 was thinking, with dull pain and disappoint 
 ment, as she entered her home. 
 
 " Mr. Waring is waiting to see you, ma am," 
 said the servant at the door. 
 
 Charlotte walked into the drawing-room, with 
 out laying aside her wraps. Waring turned 
 away from the window where he had been stand 
 ing and looking out upon the gray trees of the 
 park. 
 
 " Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet 
 birds sang, " said Waring, and with this greet 
 ing Charlotte s depression was gone.
 
 ON FUETIIEB ACQUAINTANCE. 203 
 
 " I was long in finding out the winter beauty 
 of it all," she said with warmth and cheer in 
 her voice again. " I thought trees were for sum 
 mer." 
 
 " But the color depresses me. It is like the 
 drear Novemberish little etchings that young 
 lady artists are given to." 
 
 " No," said Charlotte joyously. " It is the 
 gray of a Corot. I often think of it early in 
 the morning. And by moonlight have you 
 seen the bare ruined choirs by moonlight or by 
 electric light ? " her happy voice continued. 
 
 " I know electric light is giving us new 
 beauties of nature." 
 
 " The leaves will be here soon. Watch the 
 shadows at night, and wait for a breeze to stir 
 the trees. That is, if you care for poetry ! " 
 
 " With all my heart ! If you care enough 
 for poetry to go with me ! " For they had 
 arrived at that period of acquaintance when at 
 every meeting some plan is laid. They drew 
 away from the window, and sat down near 
 together in the great room. A happy hour 
 passed. When Waring walked away from 
 Charlotte s house, a fine content pervaded him. 
 Mind and body were attuned ; it was equally a 
 pleasure to breathe and to think. The inci 
 dents of the way exhilarated him. A mite of a 
 newsboy backed along in front of him. " Buy
 
 204 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 a paper ? Buy a paper, mister. You re rich ! " 
 The irony of this would have been grim on 
 most clays : it was delicious to-night. Waring 
 bought the boy s last paper, and relished the 
 further irony that it was his own sheet which 
 was so difficult to dispose of. He drove it into 
 his coat-pocket and turned the corner towards 
 the club where he dined. Late that evening he 
 returned home from his office, and, according to 
 his habit, took down a book to restore serenity 
 after the strain of office work. No book better 
 served this purpose than Boswell s u Johnson." 
 He turned the leaves in search of a scene in 
 which Dr. Johnson should appear in person. 
 Even Boswell s delectable volumes have their 
 dry spots, and Waring turned half the leaves 
 of the one he held before he found a dialogue 
 to his relish. The book had evidently been 
 packed with others, and had lain under pres 
 sure, for the leaves clung at the edges. Lying 
 folded between two pages Waring found a thin 
 sheet of paper. It was a single sheet folded 
 four times, and had lain easily hidden in this 
 heavy volume since the day it had closed upon 
 it. A sudden faintness had come upon James 
 Petrie, as he was one day looking at his will, 
 and he had slipped it quickly out of sight in 
 the book by his bedside. He never afterwards 
 recovered consciousness.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ANOTHER DISCOVERY. 
 
 A VALID document, brief and clear ; bequests 
 to three honorable charities ; the remainder of 
 the estate to fall to Richard Waring, of the 
 city of New York. It was precisely the bit of 
 paper that he had expected to see during that 
 fruitless search of the year before. Coming 
 then, it would have brought the natural expan 
 sion of his life that he had justly looked for 
 ward to, the freedom and elasticity of move 
 ment that were the raison d etre of wealth. 
 But time could not be set back a year. Eleven 
 months had brought new conditions. New con 
 ditions ? Waring gazed stupidly at the paper. 
 He read it again, folded it up, opened it once 
 more, and looked at it. He glanced about, as 
 if some one were detecting him, then fastened 
 his eye on the sheet. He shut it up in the book 
 again, and reached towards the shelf where the 
 volume belonged. " If chance will have me 
 king, why, chance may crown me, without my 
 stir." This thought, if not these words, crossed
 
 206 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 his mind. But he took the will clown again, 
 spread it upon his desk, and traced it word by 
 word through to the end, solemnly, as one 
 reads an instrument of destiny, or as one might 
 bend his ear to the voice of the dead. Fate 
 uttered strange words in this plain legal docu 
 ment. Waring read as if held by a supernat 
 ural influence ; his will seemed bound to an 
 oracle. 
 
 " Buy a paper, mister. You re rich ! " War 
 ing laughed as he thought of the newsboy. He 
 stretched back in his chair, and indulged the 
 thought that he was, in deed and in fact, a rich 
 man. He felt a sense of increased age and 
 solidity that almost amounted to a physical 
 change. The magician Mammon had touched 
 him for an instant with his wand. This was 
 not for long, however. Waring started up 
 erect and alert, and set himself to clear his 
 brain. He still held the will in his hand, and 
 looked at it with the half -closed eyes that give 
 a second sight. His face expressed only stern, 
 concentrated thought. A few moments of pain 
 fully clear vision, and a great emotion burst 
 upon Waring. It was expressed cpiietly enough, 
 however, as he muttered, " I am in love with 
 Charlotte Coverdale ; that s the amount of it." 
 
 There was no more quiet reasoning for War 
 ing that night. Thought was not ; it was mol-
 
 ANOTHER DISCOVERY. 207 
 
 ten into passion and emotion. There was no 
 further coherency in his mind ; it was a chaos 
 of ejaculation, interrogation, wild hyperbole. 
 One moment he swam in ecstasy, in a thick, 
 sweet oblivion of past and future, asking only 
 to dream and drift. The next moment he 
 awakened to torment. His haste to woo her 
 and win her, and his hot confidence that he 
 could do it, were coldly balked by the conscious 
 ness of the new relation created by the slip of 
 paper on his desk. The easiest thing in the- 
 world to destroy it ! Yes, he loved her so much 
 as that, for a certainty. He had lighted a 
 cigar, and he held the burning match for a mo 
 ment close to the will ; but it was an excellent 
 little safety match, burning neatly and com 
 pactly, and it refused to curl its tiny flame about 
 a chance object. Waring angrily wrung it till 
 it went out, as if it had refused him help in time 
 of need. He did not stand much in awe of the 
 fact that he would be committing a state s prison 
 offense if he put a match to James Petrie s will. 
 A woman would have made short work of it ; it 
 would have been a quick act of heroism such 
 as she excels in. But Eichard Waring had a 
 man s respect for legal paper; he had also a 
 dislike for melodrama. It would have been the 
 stage trick to burn the paper at once. Possibly 
 it was as dramatic an impulse that bade him
 
 208 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 put back the will where he had found it. He 
 placed it carelessly between the leaves of Bos- 
 well, and set the book on the shelf. Should he 
 leave it there to the end of time ? Should he 
 take it to James Petrie s lawyers to-morrow ? 
 Should he go to Charlotte Coverdale with the 
 whole story ? A whirl of questions, with no 
 answers, beset him, questions that his love 
 for Charlotte Coverdale now made unanswer 
 able. 
 
 Waring tried to examine himself. Where 
 had this knowledge been which now filled him 
 so utterly ? He must have known that he loved 
 her. How long had the fact been sunk in sub- 
 consciousness before this shock and reverbera 
 tion brought it to light ? The huge impatience 
 with which he was wont to visit other people s 
 dullness, he now impartially bestowed on his 
 own behavior the past few weeks. If the word 
 could have been spoken before this discovery ! 
 As a poor man, he would have had the moral 
 courage to woo her. lie felt himself quite capa 
 ble of plunging through difficult circumstances 
 to win the woman he loved. Moreover, he was 
 too manly a man to shrink from being the hus 
 band of such a wife, too secure in the difference 
 between them, too self-respectful by right of sex. 
 The pride of manhood was altogether consistent 
 with the reverence for womanhood : one was the
 
 ANOTHER DISCOVEEY. 209 
 
 necessary complement of the other. Waring 
 could have endured proudly the imputation of 
 fortune-hunting, but to dispossess and humiliate 
 Charlotte Coverdale and then offer to marry 
 her, was an insult that he dared not add to 
 injury. That very afternoon, in those happy 
 silences that marked their approach to each 
 other, why had he not seen his heart and 
 spoken? For her sweet sake he could have 
 borne the reproach of the fortune she would 
 bring him. For her dear love he could master 
 his pride, rather, he could elevate it, above 
 worldly consideration. Had a weaker feeling 
 possessed him, the thought of James Petrie s 
 fortune falling to his use by such means would 
 have been revolting to him ; but an overmaster 
 ing passion simplifies and solves questions of 
 taste. He was able to isolate Charlotte from 
 the events of the past year, from everything, 
 in fact, that had happened, up to the discovery 
 of the will. The new relation was too strained 
 and tortured for endurance. The will must 
 never see the light. 
 
 Waring did not doubt that he must woo her 
 from the beginning : his unassisted vision had 
 seen in her no sign beyond friendliness, and that 
 so cordial and sincere as to be in the highest 
 degree discouraging. He would have ven 
 tured, however, to break through mere friend-
 
 210 THE FETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 liness; but friendliness in the centre of such 
 a situation as now appeared ! Waring gave 
 a growl of despair. Yet if he and Charlotte 
 he called her briefly Charlotte now could 
 but once look honestly into each other s eyes, he 
 had a desperate belief that all would be right. 
 In the tumult of events, the rapture of his new 
 born love proved its strength. Facts ceased 
 their cruel pressure ; the presence of Charlotte 
 possessed him wholly. Her eyes followed him 
 like the eyes of a portrait. He clutched at 
 thoughts as. one does in falling asleep ; but they 
 swam away from him and left him drifting in 
 rapturous delirium. 
 
 Public events made the next day a busy one 
 for the managers of the " Citizen." Waring ate 
 no luncheon and dined late. He noticed, as a 
 matter of interest, that he had never written 
 more brilliantly. lie locked his desk, turning 
 the key on a good day s work. There had been 
 moments in the day when the incidents of the 
 previous night appeared to have taken place on 
 the other side of the world. When they did 
 return to him, they made good their absence, 
 and took sweet revenge for his absorption in a 
 mere national event. They drove him to seek 
 Charlotte, if not at her home, then at Mrs. Ap- 
 pleby s " Tuesday evening." An hour later he 
 saw her across the room as he was shaking hands 
 with Mrs. Appleby.
 
 ANOTHER DISCOVERY. 211 
 
 " Yes, our society is Europeanized at the top 
 and bottom," Mrs. Cricklewood was saying to 
 Charlotte. " We at the top go over to them ; 
 they at the bottom come over to us. Have you 
 ever noticed Mr. Waring ? He spent his boyhood 
 abroad : see, he has the European expression 
 of the back, as he makes his bow." Charlotte 
 protested that Mr. Waring s Europeanism went 
 not much deeper than his bow ; she knew him 
 for a good American. 
 
 "Ah, you are friends?" Mrs. Cricklewood 
 said sharply. " He is coming towards us." 
 
 Mrs. Cricklewood gave an imperious tap of 
 her fan, which she handled like a bsiton, and 
 signified that Waring was to take the chair be 
 side her sofa. She challenged him to combat, 
 but he made a lame and witless reply. Char 
 lotte held back a little, prepared to enjoy the 
 merry war. Mrs. Cricklewood tried in vain to 
 provoke a charge from the other side ; Waring 
 politely submitted to her judgments and ap 
 plauded her wisdom. She gave an impatient 
 rap to the sofa arm, and rose. " Miss Cover- 
 dale, quarrel with him if you can. 1 give him 
 up. I have a young niece to look after." 
 
 " I have news to tell you, Mr. Waring," said 
 Charlotte, as Mrs. Cricklewood bore away to 
 wards her niece. 
 
 Charlotte rested one hand on the arm of the
 
 212 THE PETE IE ESTATE. 
 
 sofa, while she leaned away from it towards 
 Waring, pressing the other hand upon the sofa 
 seat, with arm taut, and figure all expressive of 
 glad news to tell. 
 
 " The portrait of cousin James Petrie has 
 come from London. It came to-day." She 
 told how it had arrived, had been unpacked, and 
 was waiting to have determined the most hon 
 orable place upon her walls. Waring scarcely 
 knew what she was saying. He heard her voice 
 precisely as he saw her lips and her throat. 
 They all had a language, but it was not articu 
 late. Charlotte felt the lack of interest in her 
 story. Her attitude lost its spirit, and she sank 
 back against the cushions with hands in her 
 lap. Had she taken too much for granted in 
 assuming that the long-talked - of portrait was 
 their common interest ? She fell back dull 
 and chilled ; she saw that Waring was absent- 
 minded and that he had every mark of the man 
 who is bored. 
 
 " I am going a little early to-night. My aunt 
 is not well. She must go to the country soon." 
 
 " Let me take you to your carriage," he said 
 with alacrity. 
 
 He was glad she was going, she thought ; her 
 color went down, and she felt tired and worn. 
 
 Waring offered Charlotte his arm. A con 
 ventionality sometimes takes on a wonderful
 
 ANOTHER DISCOVERY. 213 
 
 freshness and a new range of interpretation. 
 This commonplace of society seemed all at once 
 to Waring the sweetest symbolism of loving 
 protection as he bent to catch the word on her 
 lips. As he watched her later come down the 
 stairway, she appeared to his eyes a descending 
 angel, nor was his imagination disturbed by in 
 congruities of fur and lace. He had no more 
 to say to her than he would, in all probability, 
 have found to say to a veritable angel from 
 heaven. The presence of her maid was not 
 enough to account for his silence as he led Char 
 lotte down the steps. 
 
 A beautiful woman seldom finds a more effec 
 tive framing than the window of a carriage, or a 
 better background than its dim interior. That 
 last glimpse of Charlotte before the sharp click 
 of the door struck upon him, and shut her away, 
 was a portrait that Waring never forgot. .He 
 felt the chill and sinking with which we follow 
 a retreating carriage and let it bear away one 
 we love. Waring had spent but twenty minutes 
 in Mrs. Appleby s drawing-room, but he had 
 no desire to return. He watched the brougham 
 till it turned the corner, and then walked home, 
 in his character of poor man. There was but 
 one conclusion from this evening : the will must 
 be destroyed. The legacies stood there, to be 
 sure ; but Charlotte Coverdale had herself asked
 
 214 THE PETE IE ESTATE. 
 
 him to recall any suggestions of her cousin as to 
 the disposal of his wealth. It was easy to re 
 mind her of that, to recall these very charities, 
 and to fix upon a sum that would cover all sense 
 of obligation. Then let him take his chances 
 as a poor man. 
 
 He looked at the will on his return home, and 
 turned it over as he had done on the night 
 before. He did the same thing a third night, 
 till he began to fear for his wits. His repug 
 nance to meddling with legal paper he would 
 call a whim ; then would argue that to keep the 
 will by him was as efficacious as to destroy it. 
 On the other hand, so long as the paper existed, 
 he could not make love to Charlotte Coverdale. 
 He remained away from her, determined not to 
 repeat the evening at Mrs. Appleby s. Until 
 he could speak to her on one subject, he had 
 nothing to say to her on any other. lie would 
 have been glad to go and look at her. That is 
 the sort of thing he would have done a dozen 
 years ago ; he wished he might do it still. The 
 lover at thirty-five and the lover at twenty are 
 not at heart so vastly different, yet Waring had 
 to acknowledge a difference in outward behavior. 
 The order of his day suffered no change, though 
 he was possessed by a concentrated emotion that 
 had been gathering strength for years. He 
 made no struggle, rather exulted in its mas-
 
 ANOTHER DISCOVERY. 215 
 
 tery of him. The rapturous reverie, in which 
 the world receded, and he and she were left 
 alone, was a dream that rewarded all pain. She 
 was then his own ; her sweet voice would steal 
 about him with the caress of its tender intona 
 tion ; her loved hand would lie in his. He could 
 call her by no names ; there was no word for her 
 but Charlotte. In his love there was the wor 
 ship which is as touching 1 as it is incomprehen 
 sible to a woman ; but which makes man forever 
 the better poet.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 "HE LOVES ME. HE LOVES ME NOT." 
 
 " HE loves me. He loves me not. He 
 loves me. See, there s just one petal left. 
 He loves me not ! " Grace ended tragi 
 cally, then broke into her gayest laugh. " You 
 try it, cousin Charlotte ! You are blushing, you 
 sweet." Grace coaxed, and put her arms about 
 Charlotte s neck, looking straight into her eyes, 
 first with solemn gravity, then with a teasing 
 laugh. They were standing in front of Char 
 lotte s bedroom mirror. " Look at us in the 
 glass," said Grace. Tossing back her pretty 
 head upon her stemlike throat, Grace stood like 
 a delicate flower of the springtime. Charlotte s 
 steady poise and rich color made her the rose of 
 ripe June. 
 
 " This is so much nicer than going home after 
 the tableaux," said Grace a little later, as she 
 came into Charlotte s room, flourishing her hair 
 brush. The two complimented each other upon 
 their hair, in woman-fashion, and then settled to 
 a confidential key. " Talking things over," when
 
 "HE LOVES ME. HE LOVES ME NOT. 1 217 
 
 she ought to have been asleep, was one of the 
 stolen delights of Grace s girlhood. " I m not 
 the least bit sleepy," she said, opening her eyes 
 wide, like a naughty little girl. " But you are 
 tired, Sharlie, dear. You are the only person I 
 ever saw that looked pretty when she was tired, 
 sort of melancholy and romantic, you know. 
 Oh, don t spoil it by laughing I " 
 
 Grace was pensive again, and played with the 
 scattered petals of her rose. " He loves me. 
 lie loves me not." Grace repeated the words 
 with a pretty dramatic inflection that was not 
 lost on herself. It worked upon her feelings. 
 " Well, if he does love-me-not, it is all mamma s 
 fault." Charlotte was startled, and listened. 
 
 " But I could tell you no end of things. Why 
 is he always and forever coming to our house ? " 
 pleaded Grace. 
 
 Charlotte turned so that the light might not 
 fall upon her face. She did not need, however, 
 to draw into the shadow for dread of Grace. 
 The young girl was absorbed in the affairs of 
 her own heart. 
 
 " You see it is settled that I must marry a 
 rich man, and of course he has nothing. lie 
 understands ; he can see. He would not ask a 
 rich girl to marry him when he has just a salary ; 
 when he is just a journalist ; do you think he 
 would, cousin Charlotte ? "
 
 218 THE PETE IE ESTATE. 
 
 Charlotte felt a double - edged blade thrust 
 into her, turned, then turned the other way. 
 
 " I don t know him well enough to say, Grace," 
 she answered truthfully enough. 
 
 " And there it is. It is a perfect deadlock. 
 Mamma keeps dropping hints before him, and 
 of course he has too much you know what I 
 mean. How could any man? I don t blame 
 him in the least. Do you ? " 
 
 A quiver passed over Charlotte s face, from 
 her sensitive lips to her nostrils, and then to her 
 eyelids. She stood with her back to the light. 
 
 " I suppose my heart will have to break," said 
 Grace. She had nourished a new fancy lately. 
 She had discovered an unhappy love-affair to be 
 far more romantic than the course of true love 
 running smooth. She was inclined to set up one 
 of her own, and indeed found herself more at 
 tractive as a lovelorn damsel than she had ever 
 been in any previous character. 
 
 " Hearts don t break, you child," said Char 
 lotte, as disagreeably as she knew how. 
 
 " Well, something happens inside you," 
 argued Grace. " They may call it malaria." 
 
 " You think you are going into a decline, 
 Gracie ! " Charlotte laughed. 
 
 " Cousin Charlotte, I never knew you so heart 
 less. I shan t talk any more." 
 
 " If I only knew how he felt," she was sighing,
 
 "HE LOVES ME. HE LOVES ME NOT." 219 
 
 however, a moment later. "But how can you 
 ever tdl ? " She reflected, as did Charlotte, also. 
 
 " It s all a matter of money. And I think he 
 needs the kind of person I am, somebody prac 
 tical. Oh, I am practical, cousin Charlotte ! 
 Do you know, I have often thought he was like 
 Hamlet." 
 
 " Grace ! " Charlotte laughed outright. 
 
 " You don t like him. You think he is con 
 ceited." 
 
 " Well, yes, a trifle, perhaps," Charlotte re 
 plied with spirit. 
 
 Grace did not argue, but sat in sad silence. 
 At last she looked up, and laughed unexpectedly. 
 
 " Was n t it the funniest Mr. Waring s 
 finding you and Patty dancing, of all things ! 
 And he thinks you are so intellectual ! " 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " I asked him if he did n t." 
 
 " So you talk me over ! " 
 
 " I talked you over. I could n t make him 
 say so very much, except, of course, he admires 
 you beyond everything." 
 
 " Thank you, dear." 
 
 Grace fell back into pretty meditation. By 
 and by she said, "Do you know? Sometimes I 
 have the wildest idea. I think I will go back to 
 school again, and really learn something. I 
 know I have come out, but then I can come in 
 again ! "
 
 220 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 " You would go away from New York ? " said 
 Charlotte. 
 
 " Oh, not away from New York. Not leave 
 all my friends ? " 
 
 " Yes, just that." 
 
 " You want to get me away from somebody," 
 said Grace, with a soft little sigh. " You think 
 I have got to get over something," with another 
 pretty sigh. 
 
 " Out of sight and hearing " began Char 
 lotte, preparing to be wise and disagreeable. 
 
 " Would n t do the least good in the world," 
 said Grace, shaking her head. " Do you think 
 I could forget? Do you suppose I would be so 
 fickle?" 
 
 " And a counter-irritant, if possible," persisted 
 the unsympathetic Charlotte. 
 
 " A counter-irritant ? Do you mean some 
 body else ? " said Grace sharply. A deep blush 
 crept over her face, and she had nothing to say. 
 Charlotte was not looking at her or thinking 
 about her. 
 
 " Dear, it is late," she said at length, gently. 
 
 " Good-night, sweet." Grace liked to make 
 herself old and Charlotte young, by putting her 
 arm about her cousin and cooing pretty words 
 in her ear. The sleep of the young girl was 
 deep and wholesome. Grace dreamed, while 
 Charlotte thought. As Charlotte stared into the
 
 " HE LOVES ME. HE LOVES ME NOT." 221 
 
 darkness, her eyes dimmed, and she felt the lines 
 drawn deeper in her face. 
 
 Meanwhile, shall we know the truth ? Occa 
 sionally the expected does happen. Mrs. Hath 
 away was entirely justified in her forebodings : 
 young- Austen had fallen in love with Grace at 
 first sight, in the good old-fashioned way. Hath 
 away had already discovered in his new assistant 
 energy and perseverance that promised well in 
 business, and Austen brought his best business 
 qualities to bear upon his love-making. Grace 
 found herself confronted with a tangible young 
 lover, about whom she had no need to exert her 
 imagination. The reality was convincing and 
 conquering. The pretty air-plant that had flour 
 ished so many months began to fade. Grace 
 fought shy of herself ; and she also deceived 
 Charlotte. The girl herself thought that she 
 was reasoning about Waring, while Austen was 
 the suitor that she was really pleading for. The 
 transition from one to the other was not to be 
 made without a semblance of heartbreak. The 
 girl fancied herself passing through a tragic ex 
 perience, but was never quite satisfied that she 
 was miserable enough to suit the situation. She 
 was ashamed of her faithlessness, as her heart 
 softened towards Austen. Charlotte happened 
 never to have seen the young pair together, and 
 Grace never spoke of her new lover. Charlotte
 
 222 THE PETE1E ESTATE. 
 
 had met him and liked him, finding 1 him genial 
 beyond his years. It was a bond of union that 
 both were newcomers and outsiders. They 
 called themselves spectators of New York, priv 
 ileged to look on and make sport. Waring 
 told her that that was precisely the trouble ; 
 New York was filled with spectators, rather than 
 with responsible citizens. People look on as 
 they look on at a play. They buy their ticket, 
 or they pay their house-rent, and they think 
 there is the end of it. Yes, he continued, he 
 had noticed that young fellow in Ilathaway s 
 office. He had noticed that Hathaway had got 
 rather to leaning upon him. 
 
 If Grace tried to be miserable about Waring, 
 she somehow ended in being happy about Aus 
 ten. Her imagination was working after the 
 manner of dissolving views ; the image of one 
 lover was fast melting away, and in its place was 
 standing out more and more sharply the outline 
 of the other. Grace had called herself practi 
 cal, and she was not wrong. The girl had a 
 treasure of love in her heart, which she had 
 fancied belonged to Waring ; but it was all her 
 own still. It was held ready through this deli 
 cious waiting time, in which no word was ut 
 tered between her and her lover. They looked 
 at each other across the way yet untraversed ; 
 their eyes met and spoke, in the universal
 
 "IIE LOVES ME. HE LOVES ME NOT." 223 
 
 language. There was a tremulous pause before 
 the word or the touch should come to break this 
 spell for another. The two were enfolded in a 
 consciousness of each other, so beatific as to 
 hold them rapt and still. It were loss not to 
 prolong this season, so sweet is it at the mo 
 ment, so tender in memory. 
 
 What we have just learned of Grace was not 
 to be known by Charlotte for the present. The 
 following morning she spent busily at home. 
 She had many people to think about besides 
 Waring and Grace, and she succeeded in main 
 taining for herself the average of human happi 
 ness until luncheon-time. There was Miss De- 
 vine s case to be considered. Miss Devine sick 
 and in trouble had a claim upon Charlotte. The 
 fortunes of the winter had been varied. Ladies 
 to whom the reader had been influentially intro 
 duced, as she would have expressed it, had lis 
 tened to her patiently and had paid her consid 
 erable sums of money. By this means they 
 cleared off indebtedness towards certain other 
 ladies who had patronized their own undertak 
 ings. Thus, for a time, Miss Devine was passed 
 along and kept afloat ; but one season exhausted 
 the patience even of the long-suffering woman- 
 public. March winds and a bad cold had re 
 duced her to a plight that a less tender heart 
 than Charlotte s might have pitied. The poor
 
 224 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 creature had clung to Charlotte, who had visited 
 her in the comfortless elegance of her hotel, and 
 who was now devising means for helping her to 
 return to her country home. Miss Cornelia s 
 advice and Mrs. Bisbee s had been taken, but 
 even Mrs. Bisbee s capacious nature could not 
 take in such as Miss Devine. 
 
 " I am weak enough to be sorry for her," said 
 Charlotte. 
 
 " I don t doubt it," said Mrs. Bisbee. 
 
 Charlotte s letters finished, she took up the 
 morning paper, and then cut the leaves of a new 
 review. One article instantly caught her eye in 
 the table of contents : New Types, by Kich- 
 ard Waring. She tore it open, and snatched 
 it by paragraphs. One passage she read again 
 slowly and painfully. Among several types new 
 to civilization was mentioned the new type of 
 woman developed by the so-called higher edu 
 cation. It was noticed only to be condemned. 
 Waring s remarks were a brilliant and forci 
 ble restatement of old prejudices. The offense 
 they gave Charlotte struck deeper, however, than 
 to her judgment. She and Waring happened 
 never to have spoken of this subject. Educa 
 tion appeared a thing to be taken for granted. 
 She had no more thought of arguing in behalf 
 of her own than in behalf of his. The average 
 college education for boy or girl is imperfect
 
 "HE LOVES ME. HE LOVES ME NOT." 225 
 
 enough, she was ready to admit ; but such as it 
 is, it is the best that has been thus far contrived. 
 She had never been able to regard the education 
 of woman as revolutionary ; it appeared to her 
 a natural and inevitable step in the progress of 
 the race. If she had tried to argue about it, 
 she would have found very little to say. Even 
 as she read the article before her, she had 
 nothing to reply, save that the writer was im 
 perfectly informed. Then she considered the 
 source of his knowledge, and smiled to think 
 that a study of herself might have yielded these 
 conclusions. That this was Waring s summing 
 up of her was preposterous, but her mind just 
 now was not quite sane enough to dismiss the 
 idea. Hurt and heartsick, she pondered. If 
 this man could not comprehend this woman, 
 then the case was hopeless. In the face of this 
 miserable misunderstanding, the future seemed 
 closed against her sex. No wider life was possi 
 ble for women without the sympathy of men. 
 The two were as inseparable in their intellectual 
 interests as in all others. But general reflections 
 had little room in Charlotte s mind at present. 
 She read the trenchant paragraphs again with 
 deep, controlled sadness. A sense of isolation 
 overcame her. Waring seemed to her again an 
 indifferent, if not a hostile stranger. To be 
 sure, the article, as a whole, had a familiar note.
 
 226 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 More than one of these new types they had 
 talked over, analyzed and " moralized." Here 
 were the very phrases she had heard him use, 
 proof positive, she thought, that the essay was 
 written yesterday. Charlotte was not aware of 
 the frugality of the literary temperament, which 
 makes a good phrase do service for years. She 
 was, indeed, making a serious mistake. The 
 truth was that Waring s article had been ac 
 cepted by a crowded editor two years before, 
 and was now seeing the light in the regular 
 process of time. To Charlotte the smell of 
 printer s ink and the raw edges of the leaves 
 she cut gave an illusion of freshness that 
 wounded her to the heart. 
 
 That very night there was a scrap of conver 
 sation on the street which we may lay claim to. 
 Two gentlemen were walking away from a meet 
 ing of their club. 
 
 " Who proposed that subject, Wives and 
 Daughters ? Did he mean it for a joke ? " 
 
 " It looked like it, till Waring got upon his 
 feet. Upon my word, I can t make out Waring. 
 You ought to know. Here he is in your review 
 with an article down on the very thing he was 
 crying up to-night." 
 
 " He may have changed his mind since lie 
 wrote that," said the editor. 
 
 " Educate women, it all amounted to that ;
 
 "HE LOVES ME. HE LOVES ME NOT." 227 
 
 but lie said it well. It was a queer turn he 
 gave it at tlie end : educate women in the simple 
 interests of morality. He s got something in 
 his head, got his eye on some special case, 
 depend upon it. Well, good-night."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE KALEIDOSCOPE TURNS. 
 
 CORLISS was a man who delighted in the 
 mean pleasures of the intellect, and was versed 
 in every species of mental frivolity. He ex 
 celled in games ; he was good at a bet ; he had 
 a keen intellectual pleasure in a lie well-sus 
 tained. The task of discovering the Petrie will 
 was an ingenious puzzle that lie would have rel 
 ished had he had no motive beyond the search. 
 He held that, with modern appliances for detec 
 tion, nothing that existed needed to remain hid. 
 No act could be concealed, no object be lost 
 from sight. His perseverance was put to a 
 severe test. For months, whenever he thought 
 of the Petrie estate, he sulked. Still he held 
 to his purpose, asking not for the probable but 
 for the possible thing to happen. And a very 
 unlikely thing did happen. Just a week after 
 Richard Waring had discovered the will, it was 
 in Corliss s hands. How it got there it would 
 have taken two people to tell. One was AVar- 
 ing s servant, an old woman whom he called
 
 THE KALEIDOSCOPE TURNS. 229 
 
 Goody Cole, in the fashion of his college days. 
 She was a provoking old creature, with one shoe 
 that creaked and one that did not, with a deaf 
 ness that came and went to suit her conven 
 ience, and with a generally comfortless way of 
 doing her duty. The other person who might 
 have enlightened us was a female detective, 
 who counted Corliss among her " gentl man 
 friends." When the will was found at last, it 
 gave Corliss no great surprise, so firm was his 
 faith in his own luck in games of chance. He 
 merely had the sensation that he had enjoyed 
 many times before, of having turned up the 
 right card. Once that pleasant experience had 
 failed him, when he had received a letter from 
 Miss Coverdale, relieving him of the care of her 
 property. Now he felt that the luck had turned, 
 and that the game was in his hands again. He 
 had a gay confidence in the next step he was to 
 take. It would be pleasant to see, he fancied, 
 of what stuff the proud Miss Coverdale was 
 made. 
 
 Several days had passed without Waring s 
 looking at the will. He hated its presence 
 within his four walls ; he had a mind to deposit 
 it in the safe at his office. He came home one 
 night from a late dinner, with an important piece 
 of work still to do. At the end of an hour, his 
 mind began to lose its grip. He wrote on, but
 
 230 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 with longer and longer pauses, and with more 
 and more savage erasures. lie was so tired 
 that he perpetually interrupted himself. He 
 drove his pen forward, but a persistent thought 
 crossed his track once and again, sprang out 
 upon him from an unexpected association of 
 ideas, and hung upon him from behind, till he 
 finally slapped a blotter across his inky page 
 and tossed his pen into the tray. His subject 
 was the tariff on wool, but it proved a subject 
 that suggested only Charlotte Coverdale. War 
 ing had for the past week been in a fever of 
 indecision that reduced his self-respect. Some 
 action he must take, yet he felt himself para 
 lyzed. Some word he must speak to Charlotte, 
 but he avoided her with a determination that 
 only proved his weakness. This could not last, 
 if they were to remain in the same world to 
 gether. A week had passed, and he had done 
 nothing but love her miserably, and keep out of 
 her way. This schoolboy behavior he smiled at 
 grimly ; it was time to put an end to it. Let 
 the will lie there to the end of time. He would 
 set himself to woo Charlotte Coverdale in all 
 her undiminished wealth, beauty, and power. 
 His adoration was mingled with the primitive 
 audacity. He gloried in her superiority to him, 
 and he relied upon his own superiority to her. 
 As in one mood Waring magnified the will,
 
 THE KALEIDOSCOPE TUENS. 231 
 
 and clothed it in all the majesty of the law, so 
 again it dwindled to a mere slip of paper, with 
 some obsolete words written upon it. That he 
 and Charlotte Coverdale should love and pos 
 sess each other was a higher decree of fate. 
 That Lit of writing once Lrought to light, and 
 how far apart might they Le driven ? The will 
 should trouLle them no longer ! Justice should 
 Le done to all lawful Leneficiaries, Lut " It 
 shall stand no more Letween thee and me, my 
 Leloved ! " 
 
 The will had served its purpose in endearing 
 to him the memory of James Petrie. He was 
 set right with his old friend forever. Now let 
 the will go the way of all paper. Wealth and 
 power go with it, pride and place and posses 
 sions ! Waring paused as the full measure of 
 his love was revealed to him. 
 
 A moment later he was pacing the floor. The 
 will was gone ! More than once Waring had 
 said to himself that the situation must change 
 of itself. It was proof of his maturity ; he had 
 learned that the kaleidoscope is sure to turn, 
 and the pieces to readjust themselves. His 
 Puritan grandmother would have said that he 
 waited for a leading ; he had expressed it differ 
 ently, Lut he had no less fervently sought guid 
 ance. And now he was taken at his word ; the 
 will was gone. The actors had shifted their
 
 232 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 places, and stood in different relations. War 
 ing was thrown into a state of passivity, which 
 gave him at first only a sense of relief. He felt 
 like stupidly waiting to see who would speak 
 first. The tension of the situation had had its 
 effect upon his brain. He sank into his chair, 
 and sat dazed and still. By degrees his 
 thoughts set to work again. Would the will 
 be brought to Charlotte s knowledge, was the 
 new question that beset him. The situation was 
 so desperate that it nerved him. He calmly 
 made up his mind to go to her the following 
 day and to tell her the story from its beginning 
 to the conclusion it had reached in his own 
 heart. With this resolve, he went to bed, and 
 slept better than he had done for a week. 
 
 But on the following day it was Charlotte 
 who came to him.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A SHOPPING EXPEDITION. 
 
 ON the morning of that clay when Waring 
 looked for James Petrie s will, and did not 
 find it, Mrs. Hathaway and her cousin Miss 
 Coverdale were giving their minds to spring 
 shopping. Mrs. Hathaway s trim figure was 
 clad in a tailor-made dress of dark cloth, and 
 upon her head was a perfect little bonnet of 
 harmonizing shades. Her taste, like that of 
 many other women, was further developed in 
 the matter of dress than in any other direction. 
 Her figure was admirable, under the influence 
 of excellent dressmaking and the example of 
 other New York women whom she observed 
 and emulated. Constant glimpses of herself in 
 mirrors also aided her to acquire the pose and 
 movement that were essentials of personal ap 
 pearance. She had stated as a maxim, after 
 good consideration, that girls should be brought 
 up in company with long mirrors if they were 
 to carry themselves well through life. She 
 attended a species of entertainment known as
 
 234 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 "talks," upon a subject which might, perhaps, 
 be named social athletics. Miss Devine added 
 this branch to her other accomplishments. 
 Early in the winter, Mrs. Hathaway had fol 
 lowed her faithfully, and regarded her advice 
 about rising and sitting down as eminently 
 sound. For her " interpretations of Browning," 
 Mrs. Hathaway frankly cared less. The result 
 of her attention to these subjects was that she 
 did indeed walk down the aisle of a great dry- 
 goods store with the finished air of a New York 
 shopper. The polished floor-walker recognized 
 her at once, and bent low to direct her, with a 
 flourish of the hand worthy of stage royalty : 
 " Three rooms to the right, madam." 
 
 " I wish to find India silks," Mrs. Hathaway 
 had said, also \vith an inimitable air of adequacy 
 to the situation. Charlotte was just behind her, 
 in the relation in which she usually found her 
 self in shopping with her cousin. She followed 
 Sue with respect and amusement in equal parts. 
 She had never seen her cousin so completely in 
 command of her resources, so competent and so 
 exhilarated. Mrs. Hathaway dealt with things 
 in a magnificent and impersonal way, with a 
 glance at a fabric beyond her purse, and a cas 
 ual remark that it was altogether wrong. She 
 made unfeeling criticisms of their wares to the 
 face of patient salesmen, and scolded them for
 
 A SHOPPING EXPEDITION. 235 
 
 the high tariff as she tossed about expensive im 
 ported goods. An American woman s shopping 
 is always embittered by memories of the custom 
 house. 
 
 Charlotte listened and marveled. She felt a 
 remnant of rusticity in her own shopping man 
 ner. She could not call for silks and linens 
 with such assertion, or pronounce upon them 
 with such sweeping condemnation. Nor could 
 she ever attain Sue s impersonal tone. To 
 Charlotte, there was a human relation, even 
 across a counter. She had her little confidences 
 with the saleswomen, called upon them for 
 advice and sympathy, and left behind her a 
 memory of her voice and smile that made a 
 shop-girl s whole day brighter. Many a sales 
 man, with cynical views of women, had his 
 scepticism shaken by the grave, sweet woman 
 who thanked him for his trouble, and looked up 
 at him with a smile as the change slipped away 
 from her gloved fingers. 
 
 "Charlotte, you puzzle me," said Sue once. 
 " You always thank people from the bottom of 
 your heart, and you look at them with your soul 
 in your eyes, when there is n t the least occasion. 
 It s pretty, it s becoming, but then." 
 
 Charlotte took the reproof. She was gentle 
 under correction, and she fell to wondering if 
 she were a shallow nature, with a too ready
 
 236 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 smile and too quick-starting sympathies. She 
 was not convinced even when, long after, the 
 voice she loved best explained it far differently. 
 This was lover s eulogy, she protested, all the 
 while, with new resolve of heart and soul, setting 
 herself to deserve a half of what her lover be 
 lieved of her. 
 
 Different as they were in method, yet Mrs. 
 Hathaway and Charlotte each respected the 
 other s judgment in shopping, and frequently 
 sought each other s company on these expedi 
 tions. Not that they always agreed in matters 
 of taste. Charlotte, so her cousin declared, was 
 too theoretical, she had too many ideas. 
 
 " Now I don t pretend to know anything 
 about art, but I do know what I like. Of 
 course, tastes differ. People can t lay down the 
 law." 
 
 Sue learned rapidly by observation, and while 
 she never arrived at general principles, yet she 
 achieved many results that were admirable. 
 Her house represented a half -developed sense 
 and application of the beautiful, "a half- 
 baked house, like half the houses in New York," 
 somebody had called it, while luer dress and 
 the dress of her family were faultless. 
 
 On these tours of the shopping district, the 
 two women not only supported each other s 
 judgment, but they accomplished much cousinly
 
 A SHOPPING EXPEDITION. 237 
 
 visiting. Women easily wax confidential in 
 public places. They have an obscure language 
 of their own, made up of glances and inflections 
 and inarticulate murmurs, which renders them 
 secure from strangers ears. The pen is poor 
 to describe such interchange of ideas. The ac 
 tual talk of the cousins was on this morning so 
 fragmentary that it becomes difficult to piece it 
 together ; yet, when they parted, they had the 
 impression of having gone to the bottom of 
 nearly every subject they had in common. 
 
 " Talking things over about once in so often " 
 was a necessity with Mrs. Hathaway. Grace 
 had inherited the characteristic, and mother and 
 daughter alike enjoyed Charlotte as a confidante. 
 
 "I am looking for the stocking counter. Ned 
 is so hard on stockings, these long ones are 
 terribly expensive." The two women gravely 
 discussed the question whether Ned should go 
 out of knickerbockers, and this topic somehow 
 led to the question of the boy s going to col 
 lege. 
 
 " His father wants him to go. I don t know. 
 My father always used to say that it spoiled a 
 man for business. I often think John would 
 have got on better if he had n t gone to college, 
 if he could have given his whole mind to 
 business." 
 
 The stockings absorbed Mrs. Hathaway for a
 
 238 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 time. Charlotte was called in to decide between 
 ribbed and plain. 
 
 " You see John has had all his money to make 
 himself, or nearly all. His father s property 
 had to be divided among six. It s not very 
 often that any one inherits a complete fortune, 
 as you did, you lucky girl." This remark was 
 half whisper and half nod. " Money gets so 
 divided up that it does n t amount to much. 
 I ve always wished that remarkable old cousin 
 of yours had been on our side of the family. It 
 was queer that that money should come to you, 
 after all." Mrs. Hathaway s face had the look 
 of superior knowledge, but she stopped short 
 for the present, and conducted Charlotte to the 
 dress-goods counter. 
 
 " I always get the best," said Sue, settling 
 herself comfortably in a seat, after the manner 
 of the experienced shopper. u If you spend 
 such sums in dressmaking, it only pays to get 
 the best. And dear me ! if you pay such prices 
 for material, it is n t worth while to go to a cheap 
 dressmaker." 
 
 Such was the logic that ruled Mrs. Hatha 
 way s establishment. She spent money, as she 
 believed, not for personal gratification, but 
 under a painful necessity. By a stealthy and 
 imperceptible progress, luxuries had grown into 
 necessities, and what was pleasant yesterday
 
 A SHOPPING EXPEDITION. 239 
 
 was indispensable to-day. This process had 
 been going on for twenty years in Mrs. Hatha- 
 way s household economy. 
 
 " You have to have things a little like other 
 people," she sighed frequently. " You must 
 have things proper and suitable. You must 
 have things correspond" she pleaded constantly. 
 Under this last principle her entire establish 
 ment had been transformed since her modest 
 housekeeping first began. 
 
 As Mrs. Hathaway passed from counter to 
 counter, she let fall much valuable knowledge of 
 towels, hosiery, underwear, and dress fabrics ; 
 but her information was adapted to women just 
 beyond her in the scale of wealth. 
 
 " It s a great accomplishment to know how to 
 shop. I intend Grace shall be a good shopper." 
 
 " She has some very practical gifts," said 
 Charlotte. 
 
 " But she reads so much. Don t you think 
 she reads too much ? I have no time to read," 
 sighed Sue. " Of course I look at the newspa 
 per." This, Mrs. Hathaway did every day, but 
 she was an inattentive reader of a newspaper. 
 She made no connection between one day s news 
 and another s. The great world from which 
 news was telegraphed and cabled was no more 
 to her than a huge revolving sphere, about as 
 formless as when the earth was first set turning
 
 240 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 on its axis. As for Waring s newspaper, " I 
 call it dreadful tedious," said Mrs. Hathaway. 
 "If I am to read a newspaper, I want some 
 thing bright and breezy." Occasionally her 
 husband gratified her by bringing home a sheet 
 as bright and breezy as she could desire ; " only 
 keep it out of the way of the children," he 
 added. 
 
 Mrs. Hathaway s embroidery silks chosen, the 
 two ladies moved away to a remote depart 
 ment. The passage was suggestive and distract 
 ing. No talk could be coherent in such circum 
 stances. Servants jaunty caps suggested the 
 impudence of the waitress the day before ; 
 Pears soap, the plumbers who had torn the 
 bath-room to pieces and left it disemboweled 
 for a week ; school-slates brought up the chil 
 dren s terrific school-bills. 
 
 Charlotte s sympathy showed tenderest when, 
 for a moment, Sue was reminded of her hus 
 band, and spoke drearily of his health. " These 
 dreadful headaches, and he is so depressed ! Of 
 course, Charlotte, you are the only one I would 
 say it to, but I do have a good deal to bear. It 
 is all I can do to keep things cheerful. John is 
 so depressed and so incommunicative. I sup 
 pose his business is worrying him, and I think 
 he frets about his health. I tell him lie smokes 
 too much, that s all that ails him. If lie would
 
 A SHOPPING EXPEDITION. 241 
 
 ever talk about things ! But he is so silent 
 these times." 
 
 " Sue, John ought to have a long vacation. 
 Could n t he get away to Europe for a few 
 months ? " 
 
 " Well, you say that to him. I wish you 
 would. He will tell you he can t leave his busi 
 ness. He has been saying that ever since we 
 were married. He has n t had a real vacation 
 for twenty years. I am sure I have tried hard 
 enough to make him take one. Nobody can say 
 I have kept him. I have told him many a time 
 not to mind the children and me. Some day I 
 suppose he will break down completely and then 
 he will have to go to Europe ! " 
 
 Charlotte s smile was followed quickly by the 
 tender, anxious look that Sue was grateful for. 
 
 " I suppose John is n t the man to like to go 
 off alone, for one thing. If you don t know 
 much about men," said Sue to Charlotte, " you 
 don t know what clinging, dependent creatures 
 they are. You are very much mistaken if you 
 think we are the weaker sex." Sue s scraps of 
 married woman s wisdom were unanswerable. 
 
 " There s no use," she continued. " We have 
 got to just live along." 
 
 The morning passed, and the ladies decided 
 to pause in their shopping, and to lunch at a 
 neighboring restaurant. They selected a place
 
 242 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 by a rear window looking upon a garden, drew 
 off their gloves, and bent across the table, more 
 confidential than before. 
 
 " Grace is another of my anxieties," said Mrs. 
 Hathaway. " Now you see a great deal of 
 Grace, and perhaps you know what to make of 
 her. She doesn t seem to know her own mind." 
 
 " There are influences drawing Grace in oppo 
 site directions," said Charlotte thoughtfully. 
 
 " Oh, that s New York. Perfectly distract 
 ing." 
 
 " And Grace is very young." 
 
 " She has been out of school a year. I gradu 
 ated when I was seventeen ! " 
 
 This was again a form of argument hard to 
 answer. Charlotte broke off a bit of bread, 
 and said, " I think Grace has developed remark 
 ably in this last year." 
 
 " Well, I don t know, perhaps so, if getting 
 ideas that she does n t know what to do with is 
 developing. Oh, I don t blame you, Charlotte ; 
 I blame Richard Waring as much as anybody. 
 I don t know that you have ever noticed, but he 
 has a great influence over Grace. If Mr. War 
 ing says this or that, or says she must think thus 
 and so, why, so it must be. The rest of us have 
 nothing to say. I have thought there s no 
 harm in telling you, Charlotte," Sue lowered 
 her voice several notes, " that something more
 
 A SHOPPING EXPEDITION. 243 
 
 might come of all this. I tell you frankly, if he 
 had had money, I should have encouraged it, 
 I should have liked nothing better, that is, of 
 course, if he had had money. It could easily 
 have been brought about, if I had cared to show 
 a little interest. But he could never marry 
 Grace, with his income, and she accustomed to 
 have everything. If he had had money, it would 
 have been very different, even you must ac 
 knowledge it. It is very easy for you to be 
 unworldly, Charlotte, with your income." 
 
 Mrs. Hathaway relapsed into meditation. A 
 temptation many times resisted was again at 
 tacking her. Under the genial influence of her 
 excellent luncheon, she was melting into confi 
 dences that she knew she might repent. 
 
 " It is very curious," she murmured, behind 
 her teeth, and then stopped, and resisted her 
 self. 
 
 "What is very curious? Do let me hear," 
 said Charlotte, who was trying to look and 
 speak unconcernedly, and was succeeding per 
 fectly. 
 
 " About Richard Waring. I have never told 
 you, but I don t see why yoii should n t know at 
 this late day, when everything is settled. It is 
 nearly a year ago." 
 
 "What? What was a year ago ?" 
 
 " Why, the death of your cousin." Sue was
 
 244 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 provokingly slow and deliberate. " The death of 
 your cousin was nearly a year ago." She paused 
 and looked at Charlotte. 
 
 "You have met Richard Waring at our 
 house," Mrs. Hathaway continued, relevantly or 
 irrelevantly. " You must have met him at other 
 places." 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Charlotte lightly. 
 
 " Well, Richard Waring has always been a 
 great friend of John s, though I must confess 
 I never could see the attraction myself. They 
 were friends before we were married. As I say, 
 I never thought he was anything remarkable, 
 but I wished him well enough, and I hoped he 
 would have that money. Somehow I never 
 thought of you as the nearest of kin, the old 
 man had lived so far away." 
 
 " Tell me what you mean ! " 
 
 " Why, we all supposed that James Petrie had 
 left his money to Richard Waring.. He had 
 been his ward, you know. The lawyers said 
 there had been a will at one time." Sue was 
 genuinely frightened at Charlotte s white face. 
 " Don t be disturbed about it, now, Charlotte. 
 You are perfectly secure. John told me I must 
 never tell you. The will was never found. 
 That s all there is about it." 
 
 Charlotte looked helplessly at her cousin. 
 Her lips would not move to speak. Her heart
 
 A SHOPPING EXPEDITION. 245 
 
 beat so loud that it seemed the people in the 
 room must hear and know. " Is n t it very close 
 here? " she whispered. She felt her lips stiffen 
 ing, and managed to touch them with a glass of 
 water. 
 
 " Why, we are right by an open window. But 
 Charlotte, don t feel so. Nothing can happen 
 now. It is n t possible for anything to happen. 
 I have often asked John. Of course we have 
 taken a great interest all along. I am so sorry 
 I told you. You will be very foolish if you let 
 it worry you." 
 
 " Can I get home ? " said Charlotte weakly. 
 " If only I could go home. I might have sus 
 pected. I must go home and think what I can 
 do." 
 
 " But, Charlotte, you can do nothing. What 
 can you do ? There is nothing to be done. You 
 must be reasonable. You are the legal heir. 
 Nothing can change that. That money is no 
 more Richard Waring s than it is mine, and 
 you need n t have the slightest thought of him. 
 Richard Waring is nothing to you." 
 
 " Sue, please, I can t talk. I must go home." 
 
 The two ladies walked out of the restaurant 
 apparently just as they had walked in, but in 
 that half hour the world had changed its face to 
 Charlotte.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 NEXT MORNING. 
 
 " IT s a gentleman, ma am, wants to see you." 
 
 Charlotte took the card, which bore the name 
 of Corliss, with the address of his club. She 
 was greatly minded to send the man curtly away ; 
 but she reflected that the interests of her Keyser 
 Street property might be concerned, and went 
 down to see her visitor. 
 
 " Good-morning," she said briefly. 
 
 " Good-morning," he replied, and dropped his 
 voice confidentially to say something about the 
 weather. lie had seated himself in a low chair, 
 while Charlotte took the highest in the room. 
 The fact gave character to the interview. She 
 was not responsive as to the weather ; she waived 
 social amenities, and looked at him, waiting. 
 
 " I called to see you on important business," 
 began Corliss in his most leisurely fashion. He 
 always addressed Miss Coverdale as "you." 
 
 " I supposed so," Charlotte replied. 
 
 " You know our firm managed your cousin s 
 city real estate for him a number of years. Nat-
 
 NEXT MORNING. 247 
 
 urally, a good many of his papers came into our 
 hands, used to keep em in our safe, you 
 know." 
 
 He paused, and in the pause Charlotte had 
 time for the most rapid mental calculation she 
 had ever performed. She sat a little more erect 
 and looked down upon Corliss. 
 
 She said, as if to take up her part in the con 
 versation, " And you have found his will among 
 these papers? " 
 
 Corliss started. The sensation he had counted 
 on he was himself experiencing. Pie lost his 
 survey of the situation completely ; knocked 
 quite out of his senses, he laughed loud and al 
 most shouted, "So you ve known about it all 
 along ! " He got no farther, with Charlotte 
 looking down at him. He recovered his part 
 instantly. 
 
 " Strange," he said, " that in your search for 
 the will our search for it, I should say one 
 small package of papers should have been over 
 looked." 
 
 Charlotte sat quiet, but a sensation more 
 vivid than any Corliss had calculated upon was 
 stirring her. 
 
 " We ve had considerable cleaning going on, 
 and turning over of old papers. Strange we 
 should come upon such a document." 
 
 " Strange, indeed, and very unlikely. I should 
 like to see the will."
 
 248 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 " I have it here." 
 
 Charlotte held her hand for it. "No, you 
 don t ! " Corliss was about to say, but changed 
 it to, " If you 11 step to the window. The ink 
 is faded." 
 
 There he held the sheet of paper while Char 
 lotte read it through. 
 
 " People are not usually so careless of valuable 
 documents," she said, turning away. 
 
 " A will is just the thing a man will be careless 
 about, you see. You can t make a man take the 
 same interest in his will that he takes in other 
 things. He thinks it 11 keep off death to leave 
 it lying round, not finish it up and put it away, 
 as if he was ready to go to-morrow. So they 
 leave them unsigned, time and again." 
 
 Charlotte looked at the signatures, and read 
 the paper through again. 
 
 "This Waring," Corliss continued, "was the 
 old man s ward. He s a fellow here in the city, 
 a newspaper man, poor as all the rest of 
 them." 
 
 Charlotte turned her sad, beautiful eyes slowly 
 upon Corliss. For the first time in his experi 
 ence of her, she looked helpless. She was so 
 still that he felt safe in proceeding. 
 
 "But he need never trouble you," said Cor 
 liss. 
 
 " Never trouble me ? " she echoed. " But if 
 this will is valid?"
 
 NEXT MORNING. 249 
 
 Corliss felt his ground uncertain. Most 
 women, he often said, had no notion of business 
 honor. lie once bet that he could persuade a 
 woman to forge a signature in perfect innocence. 
 He accomplished it, without having heard of the 
 great dramatist who made his heroine an inno 
 cent forger. But Corliss was obliged to feel his 
 way cautiously with an enlightened woman of 
 conscience, and was not greatly aided by his old 
 maxim, that all women are alike. 
 
 " lie won t ever disturb you," he repeated. 
 "Everything was all settled up. You re all 
 right. Nobody knows of the existence of this 
 will but just you and me. There s no use talk 
 ing about it now ; it s too late. It might just 
 as well be destroyed. I d promise you to keep 
 quiet about it." Corliss had taken a letter-press 
 copy of the will, and had shown it to two wit 
 nesses. 
 
 He now eyed Charlotte anxiously. He found 
 her behavior natural. It was not strange that 
 she was white and quiet, in face of the wreck of 
 her fortunes. She looked dull and acquiescent, 
 as if she did not quite follow him, but did not 
 dispute him. He fancied that she was coming 
 under his power. This secret established be 
 tween them he intended should be a paying in 
 vestment. His miscalculation of Charlotte was 
 not so much disrespect to her as irreverence 
 towards her sex.
 
 250 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 In the midst of his low thoughts of her, she 
 sat in isolation remote and pure, her face turned 
 towards him with an inscrutable expression under 
 its pallor. 
 
 " This Waring don t suspect its existence," 
 Corliss went on, to her passive listening. 
 " When the old gentleman first died, the fellow 
 did n t leave a stone unturned to find the will. 
 It was no use. He was rather cut up, I fancy. 
 He s taken it out in savage editorials. It s kind 
 of colored his views of life, you may say." Cor 
 liss chuckled. 
 
 Charlotte s mind was strained with thought, 
 and every muscle of her body was tense in sym 
 pathy. She looked finely tragic, as was ap 
 propriate, Corliss thought. lie looked at her 
 admiringly from head to foot. Charlotte sat 
 motionless, however, under the necessity of 
 thinking and acting without delay. 
 
 " You cannot leave the will with me ? I un 
 derstand." 
 
 " I could n t do that, you know," said Corliss, 
 with the lowering of the voice that was one of 
 his offensive tricks. " This paper was left in 
 our charge." 
 
 " Excellent care you took of it." 
 
 "Accidents will happen. This is n t the first 
 will that has been mislaid." 
 
 "Yes, it is an old story," said Charlotte.
 
 NEXT MORNING. 251 
 
 Then to gain time, she added, " What have you 
 to suggest?" 
 
 What he had to suggest, Corliss found it diffi 
 cult to state, with Charlotte s clear eyes upon 
 him. He began by referring lamely to the in 
 jury done him when the Petrie estate was taken 
 out of his hands. He spoke of the opportunity 
 for reparation, and her eyes narrowed as she 
 listened. He hinted, not skillfully, at favors 
 done her, and implied that silence as to the will 
 might be considered a very great favor. " Sim 
 ply to save annoyance, that s all. It would n t 
 be pleasant for you in society. It would make 
 talk. I can t say Waring might there s no 
 telling he might make a row about it. It s 
 worth your while, that s all I say, it s hand 
 somely worth your while to keep this thing 
 quiet." At this step Corliss found himself again 
 proceeding with difficulty. Charlotte s stern 
 eyes and firm mouth did not inspire him to elo 
 quence. He explained but haltingly that where 
 injury was done and where favors were received, 
 it was the custom of the business world to render 
 a money equivalent. 
 
 " Do I understand you ? " said Charlotte. 
 
 Corliss was accustomed to bring business mat 
 ters down to the level of a woman s intelligence. 
 He did precisely what Charlotte intended him 
 to do ; he repeated his proposition in simple and
 
 252 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 explicit terms. Charlotte smiled at him, the 
 first time in her life that she had smiled falsely. 
 She led him on to the full statement of his pro 
 ject. Then she rose, and stood before him. 
 " And now, sir, will you leave my house ? " She 
 spoke quietly, but she seemed to flash fire in his 
 face. He could not look at her as he struggled 
 to his feet. He turned away from her as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " You think you can get hold of that will, do 
 you ? and nobody be the wiser ? That will s as 
 good as the day it was signed." 
 
 He looked obliquely at her, to steal the effect 
 of this ; but the concentrated scorn and anger in 
 her face were more than he could meet. " Cer 
 tainly," she said, " I saw that." 
 
 " You re too late to put that will out of the 
 way now. You might have done it ! Try it 
 now, yes, try it now, and you 11 make all the 
 prettier little scandal. I warn you what s be 
 fore you," he said, wheeling about as he reached 
 the door, and delivering his threat after the 
 manner of his favorite melodrama. " This little 
 document will be filed for probate to-morrow, 
 and as far as I can see, you are a penniless 
 woman ! " 
 
 Charlotte had rung for a servant, as Corliss 
 had angrily observed. " If you want this over 
 heard, it s nothing to me." As he flung out the
 
 NEXT MOENING. 253 
 
 last sentence of his parting speech, the well-bred 
 maid appeared. 
 
 " Mary, open the door for Mr. Corliss." The 
 two exchanged a look while Mary adjusted the 
 latch. There was sound mutual hatred in the 
 glance. Corliss s chagrin was mitigated by the 
 sweet anticipation of revenge, while Charlotte 
 was not without triumph in the second disap 
 pointment she was preparing for him. 
 
 When the door had closed upon Corliss, Char 
 lotte did not pause to reflect upon what had 
 happened. She was roused from the lassitude 
 and despair of the past twenty-four hours. A 
 great blow had struck her, but she was not so 
 much stunned as exhilarated. Her nervous 
 energy was almost joyous as she determined, 
 without hesitation, upon her course. Her life 
 one life was at an end ; there was passionate 
 satisfaction in hastening the work of destruction. 
 The roof over her head was not her own, had 
 never been her own, she thought with terror and 
 consternation. Her home and a shudder ran 
 from head to foot belonged to him. She 
 would leave it that day. Aunt Cornelia, a week 
 ago, had returned to her home in the Connect 
 icut valley. Charlotte would take the three 
 o clock train, and would sleep that night shel 
 tered by her aunt. 
 
 " Mary," she said, in a bright, clear voice, " I
 
 254 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 am going away this afternoon. I want you to 
 get ready a few things for me, in a small trunk. 
 But, first order the carriage for me, Mary." 
 
 Charlotte drove first to Keyser Street. The 
 visit was not unlike many that she had made 
 there ; but nothing that she did or said seemed 
 to have reality. That she was speaking to her 
 people perhaps for the last time made no im 
 pression on her. There was a humming in her 
 ears ; she seemed to hear her own voice as if it 
 were another person s. She heard herself saying 
 a dozen things that apparently fitted the case. 
 She mechanically attended to several business 
 matters, and listened to herself as she told one 
 and another that she was going away not to re 
 turn for the present. Only once did she come 
 to. herself. This was when, for a moment, she 
 went into the kindergarten room. A child came 
 and stood beside her, then took hold of her dress 
 and gazed anxiously up into her face. Charlotte 
 looked down upon it, saw only that the little 
 hand was thin, and could bear no more. Her 
 eyes brimming with tears, she escaped to her 
 carriage.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 AT WAKING S DESK. 
 
 " I WISH to see Mr. Waring," Charlotte said 
 to the first official-looking person she met on 
 entering the Citizen building. 
 
 "Five floors up." Brevity and condensation 
 made the first impression of the great newspaper 
 building. The rapid elevator, without seats, be 
 spoke the same haste and compression, as it also 
 implied the absence of ladies. It was only the 
 tension of Charlotte s nerves that held her cour 
 age to the task before her. Waring, in his mas 
 culine environment, seemed receding farther and 
 farther. As she approached his office, she would 
 gladly have beaten a retreat, had she not been 
 under the eye of the elevator boy. " Fourth 
 door to the right," he commanded her, in the 
 language of the place. Charlotte stood troubled 
 and bewildered. She had never before found 
 herself in such surroundings ; she had not asked 
 or thought whether such a visit was unusual. 
 Before she left the city at three o clock she must 
 see Richard Waring ; there was a chance of her
 
 256 THE FETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 finding him at his office. Her action had been 
 no more complicated than that. The elevator 
 door shut to with a click behind her, and she 
 felt that escape was cut off. Her coming, which 
 had seemed to her the simple, inevitable thing 
 to do, suddenly looked confused and question 
 able. She was stricken with self-consciousness. 
 Why had she not gone first to the lawyers of 
 her cousin ? or only to the lawyers ? Had she 
 come to this public place to make a scene ? Men 
 passed her, and looked at her, but with no rude 
 ness. Yet she felt the inward shrinking and 
 shriveling of a delicate nature when it has crossed 
 by a hair s-breadth the border of its own world. 
 The outward effect, however, was to give her an 
 air of pride and purity that would have made 
 her presence anywhere unquestioned. 
 
 It was but an instant that Charlotte stood in 
 her miserable shyness. and hesitation. Through 
 an open door she caught sight of a middle-aged 
 woman seated before a typewriter. Charlotte 
 loved her for being there ; and turned cour 
 ageously towards the fourth door to the right. 
 Before she could reach it the door opened sud 
 denly, and a voice called, " Here, you, boy, come 
 back here ! " She had never heard this accent 
 from Waring, but it was unmistakably his voice. 
 She hastened forward, timid and desperate, as 
 she spoke his name.
 
 AT WAKING S DESK. 257 
 
 " Miss Coverdale ! " Had Waring been a few 
 years younger, he would have made elaborate 
 efforts to conceal his astonishment. As it was, 
 he appeared delighted, and begged her to come 
 in. Charlotte, in her resolve not to be sensa 
 tional about her sensational errand, was extrav 
 agantly quiet in her manner. They sat down 
 together by a huge working desk, so full of busi 
 ness that no visitor could face it without the 
 guilty sense that he was an interruption. It had 
 its effect upon Charlotte, and made her briefer 
 even than she intended to be. Nor had Waring 
 his look of leisure. The indolence of a busy 
 man had had a singular charm for Charlotte. 
 Now there were all the signs of work about him. 
 He wore an easy-going coat tending to shabbi- 
 ness, and he had probably been running his fin 
 gers through his hair five minutes before. He 
 had a far-sighted, anxious look in his eyes, which 
 was not reached or dispelled by the smile about 
 his lips as he spoke to Charlotte. Nor did she, 
 in turn, appear quite natural to him. His most 
 familiar impression of her was that of the even 
 ing, when there was a flow and color about her 
 attire quite different from the effect of the dark, 
 close traveling dress that she now wore. Her 
 manner was likewise restrained and subdued. 
 As Charlotte sat looking past him, out upon the 
 spire of old Trinity, again in their experience,
 
 258 THE PETE1E ESTATE. 
 
 the strangeness of the place isolated them and 
 raised their consciousness of each other. The 
 sight of her for the first time in the scene of his 
 daily life was an epoch-making moment, fruitful 
 in pain or joy for the future, altogether and im 
 measurably sweet while it lasted. 
 
 Charlotte began to state her errand. She 
 held her hands in her lap, one pressed tight in 
 the other, thus to keep her frame from trem 
 bling. She spoke low, that her voice might not 
 quiver. 
 
 " I am going away to-day," she said ; and 
 Waring picked up a pencil from his desk, lie 
 saw that she had something to tell him : he could 
 only think that he had something to tell her. 
 His story could not be told in this place. The 
 oppression of what he had to say to her, and 
 the resolve not to say it then and there, resulted 
 in a manner dry and lifeless, even to his own 
 ear. 
 
 " I am going away to-day," Charlotte repeated 
 in a low monotone. " I wanted to see you be 
 fore I went." 
 
 " I am very glad to see you," Waring replied, 
 not at all to his satisfaction. 
 
 " I had some important business." She did 
 not look at him. " A paper has been found." 
 
 "Indeed?" The restraint of this exclama 
 tion Charlotte thought she perfectly understood.
 
 AT WAKING S DESK. 259 
 
 " A paper that shows a great mistake has been 
 made." 
 
 Waring could say nothing. He laid down 
 one pencil and took up another. 
 
 " The property I have held has not been mine 
 at all." The quiet with which she spoke was 
 maintained at a terrible nervous cost. 
 
 " It has belonged to you. A will has been 
 found. It was shown to me. I read it care 
 fully. I wrote it out as I remembered it. Here 
 is the copy." 
 
 She held it out to him, and he took it without 
 a word and pretended to read it. There was the 
 stillness of a great scene, when only clocks tick 
 and hearts beat. People passed and repassed 
 the open door. To their eyes the editor was 
 looking over a manuscript submitted to him by 
 a lady writer. Charlotte clasped her hands 
 tighter ; "Waring set his mouth firmer. Finally, 
 he laid the paper down, and they looked at each 
 other. It was as if there were an obstructing 
 medium between them, quivering and palpitating 
 like the air of a hot midsummer noon ; no word 
 or sign could cross or penetrate the tremulous 
 ether. 
 
 " How did you come by this, Miss Cover- 
 dale?" said Waring. 
 
 Charlotte answered. 
 
 " That was the story the fellow told you ? "
 
 260 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Waring thought it best to accept this version 
 for the present. 
 
 " I suppose this will have to go to your cou 
 sin s lawyers," he said. 
 
 " Yes, I am going there immediately. But 
 I wanted you to know." Charlotte felt her 
 strength giving way, and she took fresh hold of 
 herself. She added coldly, " Perhaps you will 
 see them later in the day." 
 
 " Let me go now, with you," said Waring im 
 petuously. 
 
 " No, no," she said gently. " I could not. 
 I hope they will attend to these matters at once. 
 I want to be I would rather be free." 
 
 Waring could only look at her as she gazed 
 out of the window. 
 
 " One thing I ought to tell you," she said in 
 her controlled voice. " A large part of the Pe- 
 trie estate was invested in tenement-house prop 
 erty. I have greatly reduced the income ; they 
 say I have injured the property. I do not know 
 what legal means can be taken to set the matter 
 right with you. I have been spending, from 
 the first, money that w r as not my own." Her 
 voice at last betrayed her, and Waring s heart 
 was wrung by the sight of her afflicted pride. 
 It was more than he could bear. His impulse 
 was to rush to her rescue with a thorough-going
 
 AT WAKING S DESK. 261 
 
 lie, and let his conscience have it out with him. 
 He compromised, and told her a half-truth. 
 
 " Miss Coverdale, you have done nothing that 
 you had not a right to do. There was no one to 
 question for a moment your legal right. The 
 provisions of the will are not yet in force. You 
 are in legal possession until the actual paper is 
 in our hands." 
 
 Nothing that Waring could have said, no 
 words of love that he could have spoken, would 
 at that moment have yielded Charlotte comfort 
 so profound as did this assurance. She felt that 
 the greatest wrong of all had been righted. She 
 had resented bitterly that money had been thrust 
 upon her which was lawfully another s. She had 
 longed to believe just what Waring had told 
 her, and now, looking earnestly at him, believed 
 it without more question. Her wounded deli 
 cacy was soothed, and her dignity restored in 
 the sight of the man whom she most desired to 
 be absolutely right with. 
 
 " I am very thankful, she said, with her full 
 voice again. Its coldness and control vanished. 
 " You will not blame me for what I have done. 
 I know you, and I trust you." 
 
 Waring bowed his head. " I thank you," he 
 said, without looking at her. If he had met her 
 eyes that instant, he would have said the one 
 thing that he had to say to her. Still guarding
 
 262 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 himself, lie turned with a polite speech that chilled 
 her blood. She rose to go. Waring did not 
 behave at all like a desperate man, but he felt 
 like one, as he followed her out. His polite 
 speech he repeated, in stronger language, with 
 rising emotion. She did not answer, but looked 
 back at him with a face he never forgot. Char 
 lotte and Waring had carried the interview 
 through, as both had resolved, without making a 
 scene, and now they were parting. At the last 
 moment, both longed for a scene, for anything 
 to get at the truth ! They were both in trouble, 
 Charlotte could see it in 110 other way ; and 
 both were powerless to say, I am sorry for you. 
 Had they been ten years younger, the scene 
 would have come of itself ; as it was, they parted 
 with miserable decorum. The situation had 
 been beyond their grasp.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 FROM MRS. BISBEE TO AUNT CORNELIA. 
 
 CHARLOTTE paid her visit to James Petrie s 
 lawyers. Afterwards, upon her way home, she 
 stopped at Mrs. Bisbee s house, and begged her 
 to lunch with her. The good lady put on her 
 rigolette and trotted across the park, " wonder 
 ing to herself," as she expressed it. 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Bisbee! " Charlotte said so grate 
 fully that Mrs. Bisbee was prepared for confi 
 dences. 
 
 "A great change is coming over my life," 
 said Charlotte, and Mrs. Bisbee lighted up. 
 
 " My dear girl ! " she cried. " I have seen it. 
 I have seen it from the first." 
 
 Charlotte turned pale. " Oh, no, no, not 
 that ! " And the color rushed back upon her. 
 
 Mrs. Bisbee looked as if she did not believe 
 Charlotte. She had a gift for congratulation. 
 She loved to dwell upon the happiness of her 
 friends, to dilate and expand it, and to convince 
 a young girl that she was to marry the best fel 
 low in the world, and was to make him a wife of
 
 264 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 a price above rubies. She was an earnest advo 
 cate of matrimony. It was rumored that the 
 late Mr. Bisbee had been trying, not to say a 
 trial. Nevertheless, his widow maintained to her 
 self that there had been a balance of happiness 
 in her favor. " Only take care, my dear," she 
 would say, " not to marry any man who is not 
 severely good. The rest is very unimportant ; 
 he may be rich or poor, learned or unlearned ; if 
 there is love and character, you cannot be un 
 happy. Is marriage a failure? Some heretics 
 are saying so. Ye believe in God, believe also 
 in humanity," Mrs. Bisbee would end solemnly. 
 "There is blasphemy against the human race 
 abroad in these days." 
 
 " I want to tell you," Charlotte now con 
 tinued, " you are the only one." She drew 
 Mrs. Bisbee down beside her. 
 
 Mrs. Bisbee listened with round eyes and sig 
 nificant nods. 
 
 " It happens at a fortunate time," said Char 
 lotte. " The winter is over, and people are go 
 ing into the country. It will seem natural 
 enough for me to go away now. By the au 
 tumn everything will be settled, and I shall sim 
 ply have dropped out. I shall hardly be missed, 
 except in Keyser Street. People are scattered, 
 and will not make so much of the story when 
 it comes out, as I suppose it will have to."
 
 FROM MRS. BISBEE TO AUNT CORNELIA. 265 
 
 " Child," said Mrs. Bisbee, " are you talking 
 to deceive me or to deceive yourself ? I have 
 always thought you truthful. There are sub 
 jects, then, that even a woman like you must dis 
 semble. You know that Richard Waring loves 
 you. Don t dare tell me you don t ! " 
 
 " I don t know it ! " Charlotte cried wildly. 
 " You must not say such things, Mrs. Bisbee. 
 You are romantic. You want everybody in 
 love," she said tragically, and Mrs. Bisbee 
 laughed. 
 
 " Mr. Richard Waring has been unlucky to 
 have this accident happen. I am sorry for him. 
 Before this occurred, the course of true love was 
 running very smooth, if my old eyes were to be 
 trusted. No, no, no ! Let me speak. I pity 
 the man now, placed in the position he is. 
 Poor child, your hand trembles. Let me warm 
 it in mine. There, there, there ! Yes, I am 
 sorry for him, all the more because I see you 
 are bent on making it as hard as possible for 
 him. You are running away from him now, 
 and, by all accounts, you behaved there in his 
 office like a marble image. But you are quite 
 right to go to your aunt. You ought not to 
 be left alone a moment now. Before you go, 
 let me give you one piece of advice : don t make 
 it too hard for him. Follow your heart : be 
 great enough woman for that. A syllable of in-
 
 266 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 sincerity now, and you may miss your happiness 
 and spoil his. Dear, I know. Nothing but 
 truth will carry people through great crises. 
 One thing more: if you have a scene to go 
 through with him, don t prepare for it. There 
 are times when it is far better not to think be 
 fore you speak." Mrs. Bisbee paused. " Dear 
 child, praise God for one thing : you two people 
 have done each other wrong, but without wrong 
 doing on the part of either. That is not often 
 the way." 
 
 Mrs. Bisbee s earnestness had stirred Char 
 lotte for the moment, but she fell into greater 
 sadness as she answered her friend. 
 
 " Mrs. Bisbee, you do not know all the facts 
 in the case. Mr. "Waring has for a long time 
 been devoted to a beautiful young girl much 
 younger than I. She has a luxurious home, and 
 he would not take her from it to live in a poorer 
 one ; that was his point of view, and it was her 
 mother s and her own. Now all that is changed. 
 Now he can marry Grace Hathaway." 
 
 " Fiddlesticks ! " said Mrs. Bisbee, with a 
 sudden descent in style. " He s not such a 
 fool." 
 
 Charlotte praised Grace, in self-martyrdom. 
 
 " That is not to the point. The man is in 
 love with somebody else." 
 
 " No ! You should have seen him to-day.
 
 FROM MRS. 1USBEE TO AUNT CORNELIA. 267 
 
 And you should know how indifferent he has 
 been lately." 
 
 " You want to hear me contradict you. 
 Mind what I say about sincerity. Did n t you 
 mean to give me a bite before I went to the train 
 with you ? " 
 
 Mrs. Bisbee accompanied Charlotte to the sta 
 tion, with a running- fire of raillery and wisdom. 
 Neither book nor magazine was opened on the 
 journey. Charlotte watched the flying- country 
 dreamily and heavily, informing- it with her own 
 experience, and receiving from it in turn a 
 throng of new suggestions. The hamlets by the 
 way had looked to her in times past but clusters 
 of humble houses, only differing in degrees of 
 paint ; now, to her eye, houses were homes, 
 founded on the very love that was in her own 
 heart. She looked out upon them with a hope 
 so strenuous that it was a prayer, and besought 
 that love might endure in each little home. She 
 was quicker to learn through the heart than she 
 had been before. The excitement of new know 
 ledge allayed for a time her sadness. As she 
 sped 011 her way, she became filled with a sense 
 of privilege, that she, too, was permitted to love, 
 and suffer, and learn. Then, by degrees, the 
 fatigue of the day settled upon her, and blank 
 despondency came over her. She looked out into 
 the gathering darkness, ready to accept its sym-
 
 268 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 holism, also. She sat with closed eyes, and felt 
 herself reduced to one absorbing pain. Once 
 Charlotte had met with an accident in driving, 
 and had known for the first time physical pain 
 which seemed to leave to her nothing ; no mind, 
 no faith, and hardly a consciousness of head or 
 hands. Such an hour she knew again as the 
 night closed in and the land grew dark. 
 
 To aunt Cornelia, on Charlotte s arrival, her 
 niece appeared to be suffering from a blinding 
 headache. With the elder lady s dread of 
 travel, this seemed the natural result of a jour 
 ney " in the cars." 
 
 " I am so glad to get home ! " said Charlotte, 
 looking about with haggard, unnatural eyes. 
 
 " It does me good to hear you call it home, 
 dear." 
 
 Charlotte took her aunt s hand in both hers, 
 and then told her in few words the events of 
 the day. " I cannot talk about it to-night, dear 
 aunt Cornelia. I must go to bed and rest and 
 try to think." 
 
 Aunt Cornelia was speechless with sympathy 
 and indignation. " All I can say is " she 
 began several times. Her anger was not di 
 rected against any individual, but all blame for 
 what had occurred was laid upon New York. 
 
 " I am glad we have got you away from that 
 great city" she managed to say at last. She
 
 FROM MRS. BISBEE TO AUNT CORNELIA. 269 
 
 hesitated as to whether she should use a harsher 
 term for New York ; but aunt Cornelia was able 
 to pronounce great city so as to give it the sound 
 of Sodom and Gomorrah. 
 
 The good lady had a very rational regret 
 that her niece had lost a fortune ; and yet she 
 had from the first had a faint grudge against 
 Charlotte s wealth. It was inherited from the 
 other side of the family, of whom Miss Cornelia 
 always spoke in the highest terms ; again, it was, 
 locally, a New York fortune, which led to the 
 calamity of a permanent absence from New Eng 
 land. Miss Cornelia s provincialism was soft- 
 spoken, but invincible. She had generalized as 
 to the tenure of fortunes in New York, and saw 
 in Charlotte s experience only a characteristic 
 upheaval. " They " tore up their fortunes as 
 " they " tore up their streets, that was plain 
 enough. 
 
 " Varied experiences, varied experiences ! " 
 she repeated. Her temperate speech afforded 
 nothing stronger that night. Nor, although she 
 saw that trouble was upon her darling, could 
 she say much by way of sympathy. She fol 
 lowed her niece to her room, with a blanket 
 upon her arm. To supply her guest with an 
 abundance of bedclothing was a fine rite of 
 hospitality never neglected by aunt Cornelia. 
 " Wouldn t you like another blanket, dear
 
 270 THE PETE IE ESTATE: 
 
 child ? " meant love and tenderness indeed be 
 yond speech. 
 
 When the door of Charlotte s room had closed 
 upon her she caught sight of herself in her glass. 
 She looked old and dull-eyed. Color and ex 
 pression had vanished from her face. She ap 
 peared to see in the mirror the woman she was 
 henceforth to be, with light, and youth, and 
 bloom departed from her life. She fell upon 
 her bed, and lay upon her face, her head below 
 the pillow ; she abandoned herself to discomfort, 
 seeking sympathy for her agony of heart.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THROUGH ANOTHER DAY. 
 
 ONE who knew Miss Cornelia Coverdale felt 
 at once that the house she lived in was inevitable. 
 The clean white paint and shining- windows, the 
 slim-legged furniture and sprigged china could 
 not have been ordered otherwise. The house 
 fairly sinelled of cleanliness and respectability. 
 The parlor was as consistent as the character of 
 Miss Cornelia herself, and was as highly re 
 spected in the community. In one corner stood 
 the tiny old piano, on which, of a Sunday night, 
 Miss Cornelia played hymns, and on week-days 
 played faded, old-fashioned waltzes, quite out of 
 time, with a sentimental rhythm of her own. 
 There was a bookcase with diamond - paned 
 doors containing books clad in brown or black. 
 These had been singularly uninviting to Char 
 lotte at the period when she selected a book 
 according to its green and gold binding and to 
 its broken pages of dialogue. She had since 
 grown to love those russet volumes of the palmy 
 days of American literature. Across the room
 
 272 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 was the embroidered fire-screen which had 
 played a part in Charlotte s childhood. Its sub 
 ject was Sir Walter Scott and his Dogs, and 
 the little girl s imagination was long troubled to 
 identify the author of her beloved " Ivanhoe " 
 with this gentleman in cross-stitch, of the pink 
 worsted cheeks and the blue bead eyes. On the 
 walls hung old engravings, and photographs of 
 works of art. These latter had been brought 
 by friends from Europe, and were respected 
 and hung because of their source rather than 
 because Miss Cornelia at all times relished their 
 subjects. " Europe," be it noticed, was a word 
 spoken by her as reverently as " Boston." 
 
 All the appointments of Miss Cornelia s 
 house, I say, are calculable, and therefore need 
 not be further described. The veriest Bohemian 
 could not have visited it without confessing that 
 even respectability has a charm of its own. 
 
 " Let me have a good look at you, dear. Let 
 me see how you have slept. A little pale yet," 
 said aunt Cornelia next morning. She had 
 thought much about the events of the previous 
 day, and had now found words to express her 
 self with unwonted energy. 
 
 " Charlotte, I cannot forgive their blundering. 
 To have taken you out of your peaceful life, 
 and to have dragged you to that great city, and 
 given you a year of confusion, and disturbance
 
 THROUGH ANOTHER DAY. 273 
 
 of all your ways! " for " ways" were, above 
 all things, dear to aunt Cornelia. "To have 
 unsettled and interrupted you so, and then to 
 leave you like this ! I can t be reconciled ! " 
 
 " I am going to begin all over again," said 
 Charlotte cheerfully. " The year s experience 
 has been no loss to me great gain, rather." 
 
 She was fresh in her morning strength, and 
 thought gladly how much the change of scene 
 had already done for her. She felt strong and 
 confident in her self-control. Then she remem 
 bered something that Richard Waring had once 
 said to her. She did not observe by what an 
 ingenious association of ideas she was so con 
 stantly reminded of him, or by what a remarkable 
 exercise of memory. This he had said to her : 
 the Puritan temperament is to the Puritan heart 
 as the governor is to the steam-engine. You 
 may have so large a governor and take so much 
 of the power to drive it that you cannot obtain 
 the best results from the engine. Charlotte re 
 called this and disputed it. She exulted in her 
 self-control. Her constructive mind was already 
 at work upon a scheme which, she felt sure, 
 would obtain the best results from the engine, 
 although she was aware of the tremendous power 
 expended in governing her heart. She unfolded 
 her plans to aunt Cornelia. In the large, old- 
 fashioned house she proposed that they should
 
 274 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 establish a school, and she wrote out a circular, 
 setting forth the advantages offered. Her aunt 
 approved without a question, glad to have her 
 niece at home on any terms. 
 
 " It seems the best thing you could do, with 
 your experience and your fondness for young 
 girls." 
 
 That was what Charlotte had in former days 
 liked best to have said to her ; but her aunt s 
 speech now fell upon her heart with a dull thud. 
 
 " Dear aunt Cornelia, it is next to the best 
 life that a woman can lead." 
 
 " "Well, perhaps what you mean is true. But 
 I can say that I have been very happy as an 
 aunt." The old lady had laid her hand upon 
 Charlotte her utmost caress. 
 
 Charlotte hung about her aunt all the morn 
 ing, following her up and down stairs, and out 
 into the garden. They dropped out of sight the 
 past year, and took up the old familiar times 
 when neither James Petrie nor Richard Waring 
 had existed for Charlotte. Her aunt delighted 
 in ignoring New York, and she herself felt that 
 there was safety in it. Aunt Cornelia, with 
 garden gloves and scissors, snipped and clipped, 
 and talked the while more freely and content 
 edly than Charlotte had heard her for many a 
 day. She was unselfishly glad that her aunt 
 was not to be thrust out again into that strange
 
 THROUGH ANOTHER DAY. 275 
 
 and awful city. They sat down by and by on a 
 bench in the spring 1 sunshine. 
 
 " I often think of what Dorothy Wordsworth 
 said," began Miss Cornelia, in her most com 
 fortable tones. As Charlotte listened, she was 
 full of peace and affection, and wondered why 
 she was not satisfied to remain in that place and 
 that mood forever. 
 
 The midday dinner over, Charlotte left her 
 aunt for the first time and went to her room. 
 A swift change came over her. The light went 
 out as it had done before. Resolved not to 
 indulge her misery, she busied herself about 
 many little things. She set her bureau drawers 
 in order, and put away carefully and perma 
 nently the contents of her trunk. She took as 
 many unnecessary steps as possible, and did and 
 undid several times whatever she put her hand 
 to. Her mind would not enter into what she 
 was about. All that it would do was to pursue 
 up and down two lines of verse, as she carried 
 something from one side of the room to the 
 other, and then back again. 
 
 " The sad mechanic exercise 
 Like dull narcotics numbing pain." 
 
 The lifeless monotone in which she murmured 
 the words broke down in a moan or a tearless 
 sob, and her voice seemed too faint to go on. 
 Yet, as long as breath lasted, she kept on with
 
 276 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 the refrain : " Like dull narcotics numbing pain." 
 The subtle quality of the verse appeared, in 
 deed, to benumb her at last. Her feet failed 
 her, and she sat down murmuring still, " Like 
 dull narcotics like dull narcotics numbing 
 pain." She laughed. The laugh frightened her, 
 and brought her back to herself. 
 
 For the rest of that afternoon Charlotte put 
 forth a violent effort of self-control. She read, 
 and wrote letters, and dressed carefully for tea. 
 She put on a light yellow gown, five summers 
 old. 
 
 " It does me good to see that dress come out 
 again," said her aunt, as Charlotte came down 
 the stairs. " I should say there was a good deal 
 of wear left in it yet. It always was a pretty 
 dress, with your dark hair." 
 
 Charlotte had a deeper motive in wearing the 
 yellow muslin. She was struggling to restore 
 her old life, and she fancied she might feel like 
 her former self, attired in the dress she had 
 worn " before anything happened." The result 
 was only a confusion of identity. She could 
 not even look like her old self. She bore the 
 marks of suffering and joy ; the yellow gown 
 had had no share in either. She would rather 
 have worn the dark traveling dress in which she 
 had had her last interview with Waring. 
 
 They sat down to the tea-table, which might
 
 THROUGH ANOTHER DAY. 277 
 
 have been standing there for the last half cen 
 tury, so true was it to its traditions. There 
 were the berries in the same glass dish ; there 
 was the sponge-cake, following air old and 
 honorable recipe ; and there were the tea-bis 
 cuits that had had the same lightness and deli 
 cacy for fifty years, at least. 
 
 The table was laid in a north room, and oppo 
 site Charlotte there fell upon the wall the re 
 flected light from a glorified window across the 
 street. That northern light from the low sun 
 had been a weird, mysterious appearance to 
 Charlotte in her childhood. In her present 
 mood there were new interpretations to be read 
 everywhere. The pale, delicate sunshine falling 
 across her aunt s walls appeared to her sym 
 bolic of aunt Cornelia s lot ; so had her life 
 been softly lighted by reflected happiness. 
 Charlotte s eye was fascinated by the placid, low- 
 lying bars of light, so tender and still. That 
 was the happiness that she herself might attain ; 
 she, too, might live in reflected sunshine. Ah, 
 but she remembered again : Richard Waring 
 had once said that life had become a sad thing 
 when it took refuge in altruism. At all events, 
 there was peace in that pallid sunshine, and for 
 more than peace she would not ask. There was 
 the return of a feeling that had visited her for 
 one moment that afternoon. She had caught
 
 278 THE PETIUE ESTATE. 
 
 sight below her open window of pine boughs 
 liquefied in the sunshine. The polished needles 
 shone with a watery brightness, quivering in the 
 light. Charlotte watched the dance of the sun 
 light in and out among the deep branches ; and 
 the beauty of the sight flashed across her heart 
 the promise that she might be happy again. It 
 was the healing of Nature ; and now again there 
 came to Charlotte the same stirring, and settling 
 into peace. 
 
 Charlotte and her aunt sat talking in the 
 twilight. At first they lingered over the past, 
 now more to aunt Cornelia than the present or 
 the future. They spoke of Charlotte s father 
 and mother and of her childhood. As the dark 
 ness settled, there were frequent pauses, in which 
 each was thinking. 
 
 " I am glad, dear child, that you have come 
 home again. Now we can go on together in 
 peace and contentment." 
 
 This speech had a strange effect upon Char 
 lotte. It made her do a cruel thing, with the 
 sharp, sudden selfishness of love. 
 
 " Oh, aunt Cornelia," she cried. " I am not 
 what you think. I do not want to live here. I 
 do not want to have a school here." She hid 
 her face in her aunt s lap. " I loved him so ! " 
 she gasped. 
 
 Aunt Cornelia had never before heard such a
 
 THROUGH ANOTHER DAY. 279 
 
 confession. She was deeply moved by it, but 
 chiefly with pity for Charlotte that she had be 
 trayed herself. She stroked the girl s hair, 
 striving 1 , with some gentle, irrelevant remark, to 
 make her forget what she had said. But her 
 compassion and her confusion were alike lost 
 upon Charlotte. 
 
 " I will tell you everything, aunt Cornelia. 
 My heart will break if I do not tell you. I 
 cannot bear it any longer ! " 
 
 " There, dear ! There, dear ! " 
 
 " But I muxt bear it ! Could n t you see, 
 aunt Cornelia, there, before your eyes, how he 
 came, and what was happening ? And now 
 this dreadful thing has come, and even if he had 
 loved me sometimes I thought he did, till 
 lately. Lately he has been so distant. Oh, if 
 I knew ! If I knew he loved me, and kept away 
 now because he could not offer me back my for 
 tune But he does not love me, he does not 
 love me ! " It is the business of confidantes to 
 contradict, but aunt Cornelia did not do it, and 
 Charlotte s voice grew harder. " If he loved 
 me, he would not leave me here. lie would 
 break through everything and come to me." 
 
 Charlotte did not venture to speak again un 
 til she had her voice under control. She under 
 stood aunt Cornelia ; the dear woman had done 
 her best.
 
 280 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 " Aunt Cornelia, I will not break my heart, 
 I will promise you. Love is not all of life, is 
 it, aunt Cornelia ? " 
 
 " No, dear," answered her aunt obediently. 
 
 " Perhaps it used to be, with women. They 
 had nothing else, poor things ! There are so 
 many things for me to do ; it is not as it used 
 to be. We need not be unhappy, we modern 
 women." And upon this declaration, Charlotte 
 broke down in hopeless sobbing. Aunt Corne 
 lia said nothing, only dropped little pitying 
 sounds upon her from time to time. 
 
 Charlotte at last raised her head. " I want 
 the air," she said, her voice stained with tears. 
 " I will go into the garden." 
 
 " Not without a shawl, dear." 
 
 Charlotte submitted to a black shawl over her 
 hair and wrapped close about her throat. 
 
 " The night air, you know, dear, though 
 there is a lovely moon." 
 
 She did not offer to go with her niece. She 
 had gained new knowledge of Charlotte in the 
 last half hour. The girl who had always ap 
 peared clear and simple, " always to be de 
 pended on," suddenly presented difficulties. 
 Charlotte s exultation in her modern woman 
 hood, followed by a flood of tears, was a contra 
 diction that baffled aunt Cornelia. 
 
 Charlotte went into the garden. By moon-
 
 THROUGH ANOTHER DAY. 281 
 
 light there was a sympathy and intimacy in the 
 scene that she had not felt by the light of the 
 sim. There was irresistible tenderness in the 
 moon that shone down upon her ; she could not 
 but turn towards it the secret of her heart, and 
 cast her spirit upon the spirit of the night. The 
 moonlight melted trees, shrubs, and grass into 
 a garden of dreams ; and the night air subdued 
 the scents of the earth into a deep fragrance 
 that was the very breath of Nature. The old 
 garden, as Charlotte had sat there in the pas 
 sionless daylight, had soothed her soul to a calm 
 that seemed to her now but death in life ; it had 
 been the calm that renounced love. She was 
 ascending to a higher calm, to the high-hearted 
 acceptance of life with all its conditions of joy 
 and pain. She felt herself brought into new kin 
 ship with Nature, encompassed and consoled by 
 companionship beyond that of men and women. 
 She feared to lose this if her love were to be 
 taken from her, and its suffering were to be fol 
 lowed by painless peace. At moments during 
 the day she had felt the sweet persuasion of 
 Nature, but here, in the radiant night, she knew 
 herself its child. She paced up and down the 
 garden walk, with face turned upward. 
 
 " Would n t you like to come in, dear, and 
 see Mrs. North?" came the voice of aunt Cor 
 nelia from the back porch. She had already
 
 282 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 begun to act upon her affectionate theory that 
 Charlotte must be " diverted." 
 
 Mrs. North sat upon the sofa, with her knit 
 ting upon her lap, and, without rising, gave 
 Charlotte a hand that had no grasp. She asked 
 Miss Cornelia s niece if she were quite well, 
 also when she had arrived in town, after which 
 she appeared to forget her, and fixing her eyes 
 on her knitting, returned to impersonal matters. 
 Mrs. North had much to talk about. She was 
 a liberal reader, a veteran traveler, and, in a 
 quite impersonal way, had seen much of the 
 world. She was no gossip. Talk about things, 
 not about people, was her advice to the young. 
 She talked and listened with eyes upon her knit 
 ting. Her knitting accompanied her to lectures 
 and concerts, to the untold annoyance of per 
 formers. One irritable foreign conductor had 
 sent down the message to the lady in the front 
 seat that if she would knit in time, she might 
 continue ; if not, she would have the goodness 
 to take her leave. Mrs. North repeated the 
 anecdote of the foreigner as she told an anec 
 dote of a child ; they were alike amusing to her 
 in their innocent folly. Miss Cornelia listened 
 with infinite respect to returned travelers, all 
 the while feeling her lot a privileged one that 
 she could sit at home. 
 
 Charlotte looked at Mrs. North and did her
 
 THROUGH ANOTHER DAY. 283 
 
 best to follow what she was saying about the 
 pyramids. Alas for the poise and serenity of a 
 half hour ago ! Charlotte sank on the instant 
 in the presence of her aunt s visitor. Her heart 
 fled to Richard Waring, and hid in his sympa 
 thy and comprehension. She was so sure of his 
 judgment of Mrs. North that she was sustained 
 through the history of an entire winter on the 
 Nile. And so the evening wore away.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE WILL IS FORGOTTEN. 
 
 A LETTER lay by Charlotte s plate at the 
 breakfast - table. A glance told her that the 
 address was in Waring s handwriting, and that 
 the letter bore no stamp. He is near ; he is 
 here ! She lingered in the joy of that, and de 
 layed to break the seal. The outside of the 
 letter was all that she could bear at the first. 
 Then she opened it slowly, and with still breath 
 read a dozen words. She said quietly to her 
 aunt, " Mr. Waring came last night. He wants 
 to see me." 
 
 Aunt Cornelia looked at her, and the tears 
 filled her eyes. 
 
 " Oh, no, not that, dear aunt Cornelia. There 
 is a great deal of business that we have to at 
 tend to ; there is so much property to be trans 
 ferred." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said aunt Cornelia. She turned 
 her back and wiped her eyes. When Waring 
 rang the front-door bell, aunt Cornelia had taken 
 care to be trimming rose-bushes in the garden.
 
 THE WILL IS FOEGOTTEN. 285 
 
 Eichard Waring stood in the middle of the 
 room, looking- at nothing but the door by which 
 Charlotte must enter. There was no longer 
 
 O 
 
 complexity in his feeling or his purpose. All 
 conflicts of duty and of delicacy were at an end. 
 He stood there ready to say, I love you, the 
 instant that she appeared to him. 
 
 That is a momentous entry when a woman 
 walks into a room to meet a waiting lover. 
 Charlotte paused outside the door. Her heart 
 beat wildly; her frame vibrated as under the 
 throb of a strong engine. Nevertheless, she held 
 out her hand to Waring, and greeted him lightly 
 and cordially. In her self -consciousness, she was 
 so brisk and bright that Waring was discomfited. 
 They fell to talking of old New England towns, 
 and both said some very good things, to their 
 mutual dissatisfaction. Waring snatched at a 
 New York topic, and even plunged into a matter 
 of business. Charlotte talked bravely, her heart 
 sinking steadily under the reflection that this 
 interview, too, was going all wrong. With the 
 strained and painful relation between them, it 
 was apparently impossible to speak in any but 
 an artificial way. How had she ever fancied 
 that this barrier could be overcome ? Mrs. Bis- 
 bee had bade her be truthful when the great 
 moment came ; and she saw, through her trou 
 ble, that it was she herself who was keeping the
 
 286 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 talk superficial. Insincerity is the last desper 
 ate resort of a sincere woman in distress. Char 
 lotte hid in it ; it made a darkness about her, 
 in which she and Waring seemed vainly trying 
 to reach each other. Then she thought of him ; 
 she threw herself into his place, and forgetting 
 herself, she saw only his part in this trouble. 
 She pitied him, and the woman s impulse proved 
 a divine leading. She was for an instant able 
 to speak truly even to the man she loved. 
 She said, " I must tell you. I have felt very 
 sorry for you in all this. I have felt I 
 have known what you must feel." Her voice 
 had lost its friendly cheerfulness ; it trembled 
 with sympathy. Then she added, with sweet, 
 heartfelt voice, " Oh, let me speak the truth to 
 you. Let us have nothing but the truth be 
 tween us." 
 
 Waring sprang to his feet, and stood before 
 her. He spoke almost roughly. " The truth ? 
 You will have the truth ? The truth is, I love 
 you!" 
 
 She let herself be drawn to him. " Will you 
 love me ? Will you let me try to make you 
 love me ? " She stirred a little, but did not 
 answer. " Charlotte, speak to me ! " At the 
 sound of her name, never so tender a name 
 before, she looked up and moved her lips, then 
 hid her face.
 
 THE WILL IS FORGOTTEN. 287 
 
 " Charlotte, Charlotte," he called her, exult 
 ing in new liberty, as he uttered the dear name 
 by which she had long lived in his heart. It 
 gave them both a sweet surprise each time that 
 it was spoken. " Charlotte ! " 
 
 " Richard! " she whispered. 
 
 Meanwhile aunt Cornelia s scissors were mak 
 ing havoc among the rose-bushes. She knew 
 what was passing in that corner room, and she 
 looked up at the windows with tenderness and 
 with respect, touched, even in this unselfish wo 
 man of seventy, with gentle envy and regret. 
 Aunt Cornelia had no doubt of the result of 
 this interview. Her mind was, indeed, divided 
 between the sentiment of the hour and the con 
 sideration of dinner. Of course she should 
 invite him to stay ; " it " would all be " over " 
 by that time. Aunt Cornelia s scissors cut away 
 recklessly in her excitement. At length she 
 crept around to the kitchen door, and gave her 
 orders to Margaret, who looked startled and 
 then knowing. Miss Cornelia returned stealth 
 ily to her rose-bushes. She could not make out 
 her own feelings. " I love her, and I want her 
 to marry him, but somehow I can t bear to be 
 in the house ! The old lady opened her eyes 
 wide, to keep back the tears. 
 
 Charlotte and her lover found it not urgent 
 that they should discuss business matters, and
 
 288 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 New England towns lost interest for them. 
 There seemed all at once no necessity about 
 anything. They were suddenly in possession 
 of all time, or, rather, they were transferred to 
 new space, where time was not, duty was not, 
 words were not. Passivity was sweet to Char 
 lotte. To receive was more blessed than to 
 give ; to be loved more precious than to love. 
 To see her wrought to such stillness and sur 
 render filled Waring with pride and humility. 
 He was touched by the pathos of womanhood 
 that lies hidden in its power, and that asserts 
 itself in modern conditions by as sure an in 
 stinct as at the beginning of time. Looking 
 upon her as she rested in an ecstasy of peace, 
 Waring was moved with the awed gratitude 
 of the high-souled man in presence of woman s 
 love. 
 
 Charlotte, in turn, was deeply moved by her 
 power over her lover, by her apparent possession 
 of his life and of his future. There was a mys 
 tery developed in her, by which it was given 
 her so to transfigure this strong man. She was 
 awed, moreover, by his conception of herself. 
 She seemed born again into a new and unut 
 terably sweet self-consciousness. It was the su 
 preme pleasure of individuality, to be seen thus, 
 as her lover saw her, set apart from all the 
 world. She felt it joy undeserved, unearned.
 
 THE WILL IX FORGOTTEN. 289 
 
 Her former efforts after goodness looked poor 
 and commonplace ; she was constrained hence 
 forth to be what he believed her. 
 
 One tender regret touched their happiness. 
 They mourned that they had lost ten years of 
 life together. 
 
 " We have been so long in finding each 
 other ! " 
 
 They traced lamentable delays and perversi 
 ties of fate. They readjusted the past fondly 
 and foolishly, with sweet and unprofitable plan 
 ning of what might have been. 
 
 " Charlotte, I have been dreaming of you for 
 years. Now I know it. I have been coming to 
 you, my darling. Was there no way for you 
 to know ? " 
 
 Charlotte gave a little cry of happiness. By 
 and by she murmured, " But I grudge those 
 years. I am not young any longer." 
 
 " My beautiful immortal ! " 
 
 She sat upright, with shining eyes. They 
 fell before his, and she said lamely and girlishly, 
 " You say such things ! " 
 
 " Of course I do. Have n t I suffered enough 
 from not saying them ? " 
 
 " Oh, were you unhappy ? " said Charlotte, 
 with content. 
 
 " Dear," she said suddenly, " I believe you 
 write poetry."
 
 290 THE PETR1E ESTATE. 
 
 " Not for years. I have had no heavenly god 
 dess to inspire me. One must have a muse to 
 invoke." 
 
 " Did you ever have a muse to invoke ? " 
 Charlotte turned upon him. " Oh, if you did, 
 don t tell me ! Never let me hear of her ! " 
 
 Waring laughed, but he was seriously inter 
 ested. 
 
 " Charlotte," he said, " my follies have been 
 of a sort that you and I could laugh about to 
 gether." 
 
 " No, no ! I could never laugh." 
 
 " I think you could. I am glad you could," 
 he added gravely. 
 
 But there was little need of carrying retro 
 spection farther than the past winter. They 
 had met less than a year ago, yet it was a life 
 time for reminiscence. 
 
 Charlotte took delight in calling him to ac 
 count for his recent neglect of her. It was a 
 dear privilege to question him ; she cared not 
 much for the answer. 
 
 "That night at Mrs. Appleby s," she said, 
 " why did you treat me so ? Hardly listening to 
 me, barely speaking to me. I suppose you were 
 composing a leader while you were looking at 
 me in that dazed way." 
 
 "I was madly in love with you, in plain 
 terms."
 
 THE WILL IS FORGOTTEN. 291 
 
 " That was your way of expressing it ? " 
 
 " You would not have had me snatch you up 
 and away with you in that fashion, would you ? " 
 said Waring, pointing to a photograph upon 
 aunt Cornelia s walls, the copy of a well-known 
 group in Florence. " That was the only alterna 
 tive." 
 
 Aunt Cornelia, as the dinner hour approached, 
 began to hover about the hall, pained, but fasci 
 nated. Her own familiar parlor door looked to 
 her impregnable. Her knees were weak and 
 her hand shook. She retreated to the kitchen 
 and tried to say lightly, " Well, Margaret, is 
 dinner about ready ? " 
 
 " We might ring a little bell, mum, right out 
 side the door," said Margaret, who grasped the 
 situation. 
 
 " You may ring it, Margaret." 
 
 The door opened, and Charlotte came out to 
 her aunt, who stood in increasing agitation at 
 the back of the hall. 
 
 " There, there ! Dear child, dear child ! " She 
 did not wait for Charlotte to speak ; for the 
 tears were hard upon aunt Cornelia, and her 
 voice broke with the last word. 
 
 " Richard, come ! Aunt Cornelia, here is my 
 Dearest. See ! " And Charlotte stood clasped 
 in her lover s arms before her aunt s very eyes. 
 Richard stooped and kissed the old lady, and
 
 292 THE PETlilE ESTATE. 
 
 she put a hand on each and tried to say she 
 blessed them. 
 
 " You 11 stay to dinner with us," she said 
 brokenly. " Charlotte, will you see if the table 
 is just as you like it, dear ? " 
 
 One of the most trying efforts of aunt Cor 
 nelia s life was the attempt to carry on an agree 
 able conversation through the meal that followed. 
 Charlotte sat silent, with eyes shining upon the 
 wall opposite. Richard, conscious of nothing 
 but her presence, did not look at her, but bent 
 himself to conversation with aunt Cornelia. 
 He ate a substantial meal without knowing it, 
 while the two ladies played with their meat and 
 potato. 
 
 When the parting came that night, and there 
 was mention of Waring s speedy return to the 
 city, Charlotte besought him to linger for a few 
 days. 
 
 " There have been so many years," she said. 
 " Stay a little now." She did not look at him 
 as, with her mingled passion and shyness, she 
 pleaded for delay. 
 
 Waring looked thoughtful as he ran over in 
 his mind his obligations for the coming week. 
 She saw that she ought to let him go, but she 
 turned her faee to him with a radiant smile of 
 persuasion. 
 
 " A few telegrams will arrange matters. How 
 can I leave you ? "
 
 THE WILL IS FORGOTTEN. 293 
 
 Suddenly Charlotte cried, " I forgot the will. 
 I had forgotten it entirely. You have to go on 
 account of that." 
 
 " And I had forgotten it, utterly. What is 
 James Petrie s will to us, love ? "
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 "IN THE MIDST OF LIFE." 
 
 WARING thought it a delightful instance of the 
 caprice of a superior woman that Charlotte urged 
 upon him next morning the necessity of his re 
 turning to his post. 
 
 " 1 see things differently by daylight," said 
 Charlotte. 
 
 " Oh, I hope not." 
 
 " I am a more reasonable woman." 
 
 "No, no!" 
 
 " I think it is your duty to go." 
 
 He kissed her. 
 
 " Don t you think you .ought to go ? " 
 
 He kissed her again. 
 
 " You think it would be right for you to 
 stay ? I suppose you know best ! " she whis 
 pered, and laughed and sighed. 
 
 The sweetest human speech may not be writ 
 ten down ; neither the talk of a mother to her 
 darling, nor the murmur of lovers confessed. 
 With Waring and Charlotte, the old subjects 
 appeared postponed for a time, or if they re-
 
 - 7.V THE MIDST OF LIFE." 295 
 
 turned, they were touched with a new light. 
 Infinite new matter was opened up between 
 them. The lovers dual introspection shut out 
 all other themes at first. How Charlotte came to 
 be Charlotte, how Waring was the man he was, 
 this was tenderly investigated from day to day. 
 Charlotte dwelt upon Richard s boyhood with 
 the woman s exquisite maternal yearning over 
 the childhood of her lover. It touched her pro 
 foundly that he had lost a mother s care, and 
 her heart hardened towards the woman who had 
 given up her child even to James Petrie. It 
 was sweet to Charlotte to put on little airs of 
 motherliness with Waring, with a loving and 
 playful longing to supply what he had lost of 
 woman s care. The next moment it was as sweet 
 to her when they changed places, and he smiled 
 upon her as if she were a child. 
 
 " We take turns in being superior, dearest," 
 said Charlotte. " Yet I am sure that I look up 
 to you." 
 
 " And I to you. I fancy Nature will always 
 take care of that. You and I, the woman and 
 the man, may rest serene. No superficial changes 
 of society will ever alter it." 
 
 Charlotte looked thoughtful. " Not like to 
 like, but like in difference, " she murmured. 
 
 " Nevertheless," he said, speaking slowly, and 
 looking into her lovely eyes, " I have not a doubt
 
 296 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 that the farthest advance of the human race is to 
 be found in the woman of the nineteenth cen 
 tury. That is as far as evolution has gone." 
 
 Charlotte drew away, amused, and on her dig 
 nity. " I read your essay on New Types, sir." 
 
 " Charlotte, I have nothing to say nothing 
 but this : I wrote it before I knew you. Come 
 back to me ! " 
 
 Changes were wrought in the minds of both, 
 though not by processes of argument. There 
 was no shock of conversion to rouse Waring s 
 skepticism ; but he came to himself, to find his 
 thoughts kindled with a new vitality. Enthusi 
 asm was a feeble name to give the power awak 
 ened in him, the power to believe and hope. 
 He drew from Charlotte s soul the promise of 
 heaven and immortality ; her gallant patriotism 
 quickened his faith in his country; her gener 
 ous humanity sent a current of vitality through 
 all his relations with his fellow-men. She em 
 bodied for him the poetry of these high themes. 
 In her new beauty, the spirit shone out as never 
 before through the translucent flesh ; soul and 
 body beautified and expressed each other. There 
 were new notes in her voice, new lights and 
 depths in her eyes. While she in herself was to 
 him all poetry, it was his love that was to her 
 the profoundest experience of poetry that life 
 had given her. Akin with Nature, Charlotte had
 
 " IN THE MIDST OF LIFE." 297 
 
 called her love, under the moonlight ; but now 
 it appeared to her the sublime presence of the 
 supernatural. 
 
 " Nothing that we are asked to believe is more 
 wonderful," she said, with bated breath, "not 
 the presence of God, not the life hereafter. You 
 know the child that looked at the dead face, and 
 said, I don t understand it, and the poet said, 
 Nor do I. " 
 
 " Love and death are the realities. There is 
 nothing else. They teach the rest," said Waring. 
 
 The lovers dwelt in an exalted solitude, and 
 were loath to leave it. 
 
 "Are we selfish? Are we forgetting the 
 world below ? " Charlotte whispered. 
 
 " We have a right to." 
 
 She rested upon this for a time. 
 
 " I never wanted so much to make other peo 
 ple happy." 
 
 " All in good time. Not just yet, my dar 
 ling." 
 
 " How I pity other people so many of 
 them." 
 
 Waring let her pity them, and called her an 
 angel. 
 
 "The Ilathaways! Sue Hathaway is not a 
 happy woman." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it." 
 
 Charlotte was silent. In the happiness of the
 
 298 THE PETEIE ESTATE. 
 
 past few days there was but one pang, in the 
 thought of Grace Hathaway. 
 
 " I am always running against that young 
 Austen there," was Waring s next remark. 
 "What s the meaning of that? I suppose you 
 know." 
 
 "What?" said Charlotte. "I never heard 
 Grace speak of him." 
 
 " Ah ! Grace ! " They smiled, and a shadow 
 was gone. 
 
 It was not till several days had passed, that 
 the will was mentioned again. Charlotte begun 
 with a little shiver. " I have dreaded to ask. 
 Will everybody have to know?" 
 
 " It depends a good deal upon whether we 
 bring that scoundrel to justice." 
 
 "Scoundrel?" 
 
 " Who stole the will." 
 
 " I knew he was a villain by the way he ap 
 proached me with it. But how can you prove 
 that he stole it?" 
 
 Waring looked at her and hesitated. One 
 motive led him to conceal from her now and al 
 ways the fact that he had been in possession of 
 the will. A stronger impulse drove him to lay 
 at her feet the final proof of his love. 
 
 " lie stole it from me," he said, briefly. 
 
 Charlotte stood erect, and looked down upon 
 him. She was thinking back so rapidly over the
 
 "I2V THE MIDST OF LIFE." 299 
 
 past year that at first she could not speak. To 
 Waring s amazement she turned upon him with 
 reproaches. 
 
 " How could you do it ? It was not right. It 
 was not carrying out his wishes. He never 
 wanted me to have his money. How could you 
 leave me in such a position ? It was not fair to 
 anybody. Oh, how can I ever forgive you?" 
 
 Charlotte burst into tears. 
 
 " Charlotte," said Waring in a steady, but 
 tender voice ; and Charlotte ceased sobbing. 
 " I meant to do worse. I meant to destroy the 
 will. It was because I loved you." 
 
 Charlotte raised her face. She leaned to 
 wards Waring with hands outstretched, and 
 drew him to her. " Did you love me so?" she 
 said in a whisper in which her whole soul vi 
 brated. 
 
 " Mrs. Bisbee is right," said Charlotte after 
 wards. " Love simplifies everything. Love is 
 crowned by a sacrifice, even a sacrifice of pride, 
 like mine." 
 
 "Or like mine," said Waring. "You may 
 pity the hurt to my pride when I filed the will 
 that was to disinherit the woman I loved." 
 
 " Richard, tell me ! If you had destroyed 
 the will, and had left me a rich woman, what 
 should you have done?" Her look was irresis 
 tible in its alarm and appeal.
 
 300 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 " I should have asked you to marry a pool- 
 man." 
 
 " I am grateful," said Charlotte simply. 
 
 " You love me perfectly," she said again. " I 
 had a fear. I know there is a danger, when two 
 people are like you and me. There is a danger 
 of mistaking congeniality of tastes for love. I 
 thought once we you I mean, /, had done 
 it." Charlotte hid her face. 
 
 " But you are perfect towards me towards 
 us all." Charlotte could not have told why, in 
 the past few days, she had drawn closer to other 
 women. She watched her lover narrowly, ex 
 acting of him a love that included all other 
 women in its reverence, and excluded all other 
 women in its passion. 
 
 One evening, as Waring was leaving the 
 house, he was met by a boy with a telegram. 
 He stepped back into the light of the hall, and 
 read the bit of paper. The message had been 
 forwarded from his office, and was from Mrs. 
 Hathaway. Her husband was dead, and she 
 begged Waring to come to her.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 IN NEW YORK AGAIN. 
 
 " CHARLOTTE ! I knew you would come to 
 me ! Mrs. Hathaway clung to her cousin, and 
 the two women wept together. 
 
 " It was so sudden," and they cried again. 
 
 " The doctor said, though, that it had been 
 coming on for a long time. I remember what 
 you said about a long vacation for him. I did 
 all I could, but he said he could not get away. 
 We are so bound by circumstances in this world, 
 Charlotte. I am sure I have learned to submit." 
 
 Sue s worldliness with its tincture of piety 
 was more than Charlotte could bear, her heart 
 all sore with the fate of John Hathaway. She 
 inquired about the children. 
 
 " They are broken-hearted, Charlotte. He 
 was so fond of his children. You know how 
 fond he was. When they were babies oh, 
 I can t, I can t talk about it. But you don t 
 know how I go back to that time, Charlotte. It 
 is curious, I seem to remember him better then, 
 actually remember him better, before he got into
 
 302 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 things so much, before he was so driven. And I 
 go back before that, too, when we were engaged 
 and first married. He was devoted to me. They 
 all said at home that he would do anything for 
 me, that he would give me everything I wanted. 
 And he has simply existed for me. I told 
 you that he was silent and depressed. I ought 
 not to have spoken so, for I never knew him 
 more thoughtful of me than he has been these 
 last months of his life. It seemed as if he 
 could n t do enough like having my room done 
 over, you know, and the new set. I am glad I 
 was always thoughtful of him. I don t know 
 how I could have been more careful of his health 
 than I was." 
 
 Charlotte had hidden her face in her handker 
 chief and was shedding tears of unrelieved bit 
 terness. They were for the life of John Hatha 
 way rather than for his death. 
 
 " And now he s gone ! " Sue broke down in 
 simple grief, less harrowing to Charlotte than 
 blind retrospect. She put her arm about her 
 cousin, and hushed her tenderly. Again and 
 again between her sobs Sue would call back the 
 days of her early love. 
 
 " Everybody will tell you so. That is the 
 happiest time," she said, with tearful voice. 
 
 Charlotte wondered, doubted, and deplored. 
 She and Kichard had lately begun to talk about
 
 IN NEW YORK AGAIN. 303 
 
 their married life, with solemn and joyous faith 
 in the future of their love. They pondered to 
 gether the history of this marriage ended, as 
 theirs was to begin. 
 
 " What grieved and puzzled me was that no 
 outside influence could reach them or help them. 
 It was so absolutely their own affair." 
 
 " That is what people ought to remember at 
 the altar." 
 
 Charlotte looked steadily at the floor. " I 
 liked John Hathaway s society, and I brought 
 something into his life. But it did not help 
 matters. It was a failure." 
 
 " I saw all that." 
 
 She looked into his face, and said quickly, 
 " I can never speak of it, Richard." 
 
 u I have tried to be the right sort of cousin to 
 Sue," she said afterwards, " but a cousin is the 
 vaguest thing in the world. We have been to 
 gether a great deal, but we have never affected 
 each other in the least." 
 
 " She clings to you now." 
 
 " You and I must help her, and we must help 
 the children." 
 
 " There will be need of it. I had a talk with 
 Austen at John s office. lie s a clear-headed 
 young fellow. lie knows how Hathaway s 
 affairs stand. There will be very little left for 
 them but his life insurance."
 
 304 THE PETE IE ESTATE. 
 
 " His life insurance ! " Charlotte echoed. 
 
 " He was heavily insured. I suppose he fore 
 saw a break-up of this sort." 
 
 "And Sue will live on his life insurance! 
 There s a tragic fitness." 
 
 " How about Grace, and the rest? " 
 
 " I have something to tell you about Grace," 
 said Charlotte, smiling once more. 
 
 That morning Grace had found herself alone 
 with her cousin, and after closing the door and 
 guarding against treacherous portieres, she had 
 drawn Charlotte to a confidential sofa. 
 
 " You have been so kind, cousin Charlotte, 
 you and Mr. Waring, and everybody." Grace 
 pressed her lip hard with her teeth, the tears 
 came into her eyes, and she smiled. She had 
 grown older in the last week. She looked the 
 woman in the poise of her figure, the carriage 
 of her head, and the steadiness of her eyes. 
 Glancing at the two sitting side by side, one 
 would readily have pronounced them kinswomen, 
 closely related in spirit and temper as well as in 
 blood. Grace was still girlish in expression, as 
 she poured into Charlotte s ear the history of the 
 last great days. The same story she had heard 
 from Mrs. Hathaway, who had related every par 
 ticular with such truth to her own nature that 
 Charlotte marveled at the power of sorrow to 
 touch the springs of character. In her every-day
 
 IN NEW YORK AGAIN. 305 
 
 conduct, Mrs. Hathaway was, like most people, at 
 one time better than her thoughts, at another 
 time worse. The outer life is, indeed, a mean 
 between the extremes of the inner life. There 
 was at present in Mrs. Hathaway s case no such 
 unconscious compromise with herself. She had 
 never before been so fully and freely what 
 nature and the world had made her. With the 
 girl s mother in mind, Charlotte listened anx 
 iously to Grace, craving that she might ring 
 true under her first great experience. Charlotte 
 was filled with emotion as she saw the young 
 girl s just and generous mind appear. The 
 daughter s grief was made profound by the 
 woman s tender and pitiful perception of what 
 her father s life had been. Charlotte let her 
 sob herself quiet again. 
 
 " It seems almost wicked to be happy about 
 anything," said Grace, at last. " But I am. I 
 wanted to tell you." Grace looked straight 
 down to her lap, and pulled the corners of her 
 handkerchief. 
 
 " I never supposed I was inconstant. I always 
 supposed there would be just one person and 
 never any other. I would rather have a broken 
 heart than think I was fickle. Would n t you, 
 cousin Charlotte ? " 
 
 Charlotte was not prepared to say. 
 
 " I was miserable for a little while," Grace
 
 306 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 continued, " but somehow nothing lasted, not 
 my love and not my misery, after well, I may 
 as well confess it after Frank Austen came. 
 He showed right out so plainly that I could n t 
 help it. And now that we have been in such 
 trouble, he has been simply perfect. Mamma 
 herself says so. Charlotte, I dreaded to tell you. 
 I know now as well as you do how silly I have 
 been. Perhaps I did n t really care so much 
 about the other. I d rather think anything 
 than that I was inconstant. And he seems just 
 the same friend he always was, especially since 
 dear papa died. Why I do love him, only it is 
 different : Frank Austen is much more the sort 
 of person to fall in love with. Now, is n t he ? 
 He is so much younger, and so much handsomer, 
 don t you know ? " 
 
 Charlotte smiled and petted her, and fell in 
 contentedly enough with these conclusions. 
 Grace knew no more than that Charlotte had 
 been at her aunt s for a week, and had returned 
 to the city upon the summons from Mrs. Hath 
 away. 
 
 In the course of a few days Charlotte in 
 trusted her secret to her cousin, but begged her 
 not to mention it to Grace for the present. 
 Mrs. Hathaway listened with smiles as sad as 
 her tears. Charlotte was deeply touched by 
 her response.
 
 IiV NEW YORK AGAIN. 307 
 
 " He was John s friend. lie was the Lest 
 friend John, had," was all she said at first. 
 Charlotte loved Richard for this friendship. 
 She pressed Sue s hand in gratitude, and the 
 poor woman murmured brokenly, " All I ean say 
 is, I hope you will be as happy as I have been." 
 
 Charlotte could have cried then. 
 
 " Charlotte," said Mrs. Hathaway, " we shall 
 have to give up this house. We shall have to 
 board or go into the country. I would iivuch 
 rather board. Do advise me ! " 
 
 Charlotte gave the advice she was asked for, 
 but Mrs. Hathaway was restive under it. " It 
 would be the greatest sacrifice I could make 
 to go into the country," she pleaded against 
 Charlotte, vaguely blaming her cousin and hold 
 ing her responsible for the dullness of the 
 suburbs. 
 
 " As for your advice that Grace and Frank 
 should be allowed to marry in a year, what have 
 they to live on, pray ? With only his salary, 
 they would be poor people simply poor peo 
 ple, nothing more or less." 
 
 " Let them be poor people, then." 
 
 " Ah, Charlotte, you don t consider what it 
 costs young people to begin life nowadays." 
 
 " I do consider, Sue. There has never been 
 a time, I think, when they could make so pretty, 
 refined, expressive a little home out of such
 
 308 THE PETE1E ESTATE. 
 
 modest materials. Love in a cottage was never 
 so practicable." 
 
 " There is little use arguing with you, Char 
 lotte. When you have kept house as long as I 
 have, when you have seen more of the practical 
 side of life You see you are sentimental, 
 Charlotte." 
 
 Charlotte nodded and smiled. 
 
 " Then, too, you are in love. There is no use 
 arguing with such a person." 
 
 They talked of the other children. 
 
 " You must let Richard and me help about 
 their education, dear Sue," said Charlotte, laying 
 her hand upon her cousin s. 
 
 " You always think so much of education," 
 said Mrs. Hathaway charitably. Yet she was 
 not ungrateful. " His father s heart was set on 
 Ned s going to college. And I want he should 
 go, no matter what it does to him," she said. 
 
 Deprived of her husband s support, Mrs. 
 Hathaway clung to Charlotte more and more as 
 time went on. She resisted her cousin s advice 
 at every step, and took it finally. She moved 
 to the country, and set up a cozy home. She 
 married her daughter prettily at the end of a 
 year, and saw her established in a little home in 
 the same suburb. She submitted to a college 
 education for Ned and Patty, and even, in the 
 absence of wealth, felt that education misjht be
 
 IN NEW YORK AGAIN. 309 
 
 a means of conferring importance upon a fam 
 ily. She came to find worldly satisfaction in 
 mentioning carelessly " my son at Harvard " 
 or "my daughter at Vassar." 
 
 This was years after, however. Meanwhile, 
 we are concerned with Charlotte. She was not 
 long in telling her story to Mrs. Bisbee. The 
 two spent an hour together, in which but one 
 topic was discussed. Mrs. Bisbee made haste to 
 Waring. Her congratulations were the most 
 original he received, instructive and amusing, 
 " tragical - comical - historical - pastoral," Richard 
 told Charlotte. 
 
 " I have been talking with Mr. Waring," Mrs. 
 Bisbee reported. " I like him. In fact, I have 
 always liked him, though I believe I have ac 
 cused him of a literary way of looking at things. 
 They re cold-blooded creatures these critics. 
 It does me good to see one soundly in love." 
 
 " Did you tell him that ? " 
 
 " Just that. I say what I please. It is one 
 of the perquisites of my years. I have learned 
 to take the good things of each age as I come to 
 it. I found him frank-spoken, too. I like a 
 man who is n t squeamish about calling a 
 woman an angel. I may be old-fashioned. At 
 any rate, there is an old-fashioned flavor about 
 your love story that I like. Why, that lover of 
 yours talked poetry to me for an hour."
 
 310 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 " That was a tribute to you, Mrs. Bisbee," 
 laughed Charlotte. " He talks prose to most 
 people." 
 
 "And I answered him in Shakespeare." 
 Mrs. Bisbee smiled to herself, as if she remem 
 bered a good thing. " I wish him joy of the 
 career he appears to be going into." 
 
 " He told you ? " 
 
 " Municipal politics. Whew ! " said Mrs. 
 Bisbee, frankly. " I am glad he keeps hold of 
 his paper with one hand. Well, I could* only 
 answer him again in Shakespeare. There s no 
 need of anybody else. What do the rest of them 
 write for ? This was what I said." When Mrs. 
 Bisbee repeated a passage of Shakespeare, she 
 recited it very badly. Where her voice should 
 have fallen, it rose with comical energy ; where 
 it should have risen, it fell with tragic stress. 
 Under the conviction of Shakespeare s great 
 ness, she uttered no word of his lightly ; but 
 with solemnity of pause and weight of emphasis, 
 she pronounced the syllables as if they were 
 Holy Writ. It was in this fashion that she had 
 turned upon Waring, and had bidden him and 
 his paper establish 
 
 Piety and fear, 
 
 Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, 
 Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighborhood, 
 
 Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, 
 Degrees, observances, customs, and laws."
 
 IN NEW YORK AGAIN. 311 
 
 " Your romance is meat and drink to me, 
 Charlotte," said Mrs. Bisbee, later. " I am 
 like the old Frenchwoman. Every woman, she 
 said, is romantic twice in her life once at six 
 teen, on her own account ; again, at sixty, for 
 other people." 
 
 Mrs. Bisbee sighed, and it was a genuine sigh. 
 Mrs. Bisbee s sighs were usually fine comedy 
 effects. 
 
 " What are you thinking of, dear Mrs. Bis 
 bee ? " said Charlotte. 
 
 " I am thinking that I envy you." 
 
 Charlotte made a sweet sound of love and 
 protest. 
 
 " I am a lonely old woman. I have always 
 said there was no need of being lonely, with the 
 world as full as it is. But sometimes it comes 
 over me." 
 
 Charlotte did not remember before to have 
 seen a tear stand in Mrs. Bisbee s eye. 
 
 " I have nothing to complain of. I have a 
 comfortable little nest round the corner. My hall 
 bedroom does very well. I could be bounded 
 in a nut-shell, and count myself a king of infinite 
 space. I am abundantly entertained. I dis 
 cover a new type every day. But types do not 
 feed the hunger of the heart." 
 
 " Ah, no," said Charlotte, with rich feeling in 
 her voice. She sat silent for a moment. " Mrs.
 
 312 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 Bisbee," she said, " I have sometimes thought 
 that you and Mr. Pil 
 
 " No, no, my child," interrupted Mrs. Bisbee. 
 " I am too romantic for that too romantic to 
 marry for a home." 
 
 " I am glad," said Charlotte, and kissed her. 
 
 " I shall not be lonely so long as I have you, 
 my daughter." 
 
 Charlotte s face lighted with love. 
 
 "You and your husband," Mrs. Bisbee fin 
 ished. 
 
 Charlotte s face shone brighter, and she hid it 
 against Mrs. Bisbee. " Upon my word," said 
 that lady, 
 
 " I think there is not half a kiss to choose 
 Who loves the other best. "
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE WINGED VICTORY OF SAMOTHRACE. 
 
 RICHARD WARING and his wife had come up 
 the great stairway of the Louvre, and had with 
 one impulse stopped before the statue that 
 faced them. Without a word, they seated them 
 selves upon a bench at the side. They cher 
 ished their silences ; nothing, to their own per 
 ception, so expressed the harmony of their 
 minds. They gazed at the glorious creature 
 before and above them. Charlotte looked at 
 Richard, and then again at the statue. She 
 gave the long sigh of joy in presence of beauty, 
 and turned to her husband with finely imagi 
 native look. 
 
 " Yes," he said in a low tone. 
 
 He watched her, and listened for the fine re 
 verberations of her nature. She kept her eyes 
 upon the Victory, and by and by rose and went 
 to the other side. Richard would have followed 
 her, but he was arrested by her pose. A thrill 
 of sympathy had run from the wonderful living 
 marble to the sister woman beside her. By the
 
 314 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 marvelous speech of the body, the two appeared 
 to greet each other, as animated by the same 
 spirit. The Victory, treading firm and light, 
 with goddess step, the prow of her ship, carrying 
 the motion of wind and wave in the sweep of 
 her garments, stirred heart and imagination. 
 The life that flushed the marble was the vitality 
 of noble womanhood that would have strength 
 ened and purified the weakest beholder. New 
 power seemed to Charlotte to course through 
 her own being as she stood gazing. The divine 
 energy of the Victory, resting on her own 
 strength with godlike repose, at once stirred and 
 calmed the spirit of the woman. 
 
 The figure stood high and commanding, with 
 lofty outlook. The body was large, for so the 
 magnanimity of the spirit demanded ; yet unut 
 terable human tenderness was in the softly 
 breathing breast. There were no arms, and the 
 face was gone, but such was the harmony of the 
 body that the rest expressed what was absent. 
 There was no doubt of the hand, the brow, the 
 eyes of the noble creature. One could fancy he 
 heard her voice. From the throat to the foot 
 the figure looked gloriously ahead, with gallant 
 courage in every line, as it stood light and firm 
 against the wind. The thrill of hope was in the 
 joyous tread of the foot, and in the aspiration of 
 the winirs raised for flight. Heaven-borne and
 
 THE WINGED VICTORY OF SAMOTHRACE. 315 
 
 earth-treading creature she seemed, beautiful in 
 the poise between the paths of the sky and the 
 walks among men. Her ship rides the waves, 
 while she steps upon its prow. The relation 
 of their energy, the harmony of their motion, 
 was beautiful, again, in its suggestion, to the 
 mind of Charlotte. Whether the ship rode 
 under blue Greek skies, amid the " countless 
 laughter of the water," or whether it rode the 
 storm, every movement of the beneficent figure 
 at its prow would be faithful to the vessel it pro 
 tected. 
 
 While Charlotte had gazed at the Victory, 
 Waring had looked at her, wanting nothing 
 more. lie watched her with a certain curiosity, 
 it is true. He had seldom seen in women deli 
 cate loyalty to themselves or enthusiasm for ideal 
 womanhood. There was in Charlotte a chivalry 
 towards her sex that affected Waring oddly. In 
 this most womanly of women there was a dash 
 of the knight errant. In the beginning he had 
 been jealous of this element in her character, 
 and believed that he disliked it. With the 
 larger knowledge of her that love had taught 
 him, he looked at her now with full comprehen 
 sion. 
 
 It was natural that when, at last, they spoke, 
 it should be a little below the level of their 
 thoughts. They said that the Victory was well
 
 316 THE PETRIE ESTATE. 
 
 born and well bred and well nourished. Then 
 they were silent again. 
 
 "I have been thinking," said Charlotte softly. 
 " She is what woman is to be to the world 
 she faces the future." 
 
 " I have been thinking, too," said Waring. 
 " No, I am selfish. It is my future she faces. 
 Come, love."