5Y-PANNY-N-D 
 7AVRFR.ee
 
 FELICIA 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 FANNY N. D. MURFREE 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN A'ND COMPANY 
 
 ST&e fimersiDe press, rambriH0e 
 
 1893
 
 Copyright, 1891, 
 Br FANNY N. D. MURFREE. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 FOURTH EDITION. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., TJ. S. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.
 
 FELICIA. 
 
 THE Reverend Robert Raymond prided him- 
 self, in a seemly and clerical fashion, on his tact. 
 So innocent and candid was this endowment as 
 he possessed it that it was distinctly apparent, 
 and the disaffected of the congregation construed 
 him as a scheming man, unduly versed in the 
 ways of the world for a clergyman. Among the 
 persons who interpreted him more justly was a 
 young girl, who sat near him, one summer morn- 
 ing, in a large parlor on the shady side of the 
 house. The welcome watering-carts rumbled up 
 and down the street, giving to the air the taste of 
 sudden, showers ; the breeze waved the curtains, 
 stirred the plants in the balcony, and wafted 
 freshly into the room the odors of heliotrope and 
 geranium. 
 
 Mr. Raymond looked with some admiration at 
 the brilliant face, with its background of flutter- 
 ing lace and flowers. He was one of those men 
 whose attitude toward women is something of the 
 paternal, at once protective and indulgent ; he 
 found a certain charm in their caprices, and just 
 
 2137305
 
 2 FELICIA. 
 
 now the evident petulance of his wife's young 
 cousin induced not so much tolerance as approval. 
 
 " Oh, it 's all very well for you to preach, cousin 
 Robert " she cried. 
 
 " So some people think," he interpolated, with 
 a laugh. 
 
 " about duty and obedience, and all that ; 
 but what is my duty ? that 's what I want to 
 know." 
 
 If he had told her the exact truth, he would 
 have said that in his opinion it was her duty to 
 be charming, like the blue sky, the sunshine, the 
 tints on that rosebud against the gray stone there. 
 But it will not do even for a clergyman to always 
 speak his whole mind, so he sedately replied that 
 her duties would probably define themselves dis- 
 tinctly enough as the years went by, and he did 
 not doubt she would be very faithful in their per- 
 formance. 
 
 " I do hope I shall know what they are," she 
 declared, with animation. " Now, what am I to 
 do? Nothing pleases papa. He was determined, 
 he said, that his only daughter should have all 
 the advantages that money could command, and 
 he gave them to me, and I fully availed myself 
 of them. Now," eukninatively, " he is not satis- 
 fied." 
 
 The Reverend Robert Raymond said to himself 
 that the old Judge must be hard to please if he 
 were indeed dissatisfied with the result of his in- 
 vestment. To speak disrespectfully of the Chan-
 
 FELICIA. 3 
 
 cellor behind his back was a privilege claimed by 
 many people besides the lawyers whom a hard 
 fate compelled to practice in his court. A notable 
 metropolitan school, the regimen of regular hours, 
 diet, and exercise, and a carefully devised curri- 
 culum had returned to him, as a finished product 
 of feminine education, this young woman of twenty- 
 two, of fine mind, manners, health, and morals, 
 sufficiently well grounded in useful branches, mod- 
 erately accomplished in the modern languages, 
 music, and painting, with an exceedingly lively 
 and cultivated imagination, and with keen appre- 
 ciation and consummate tact in all matters per- 
 taining to dress and personal adornment. The 
 possession of this last talent was manifest in her 
 fresh and well-chosen morning toilette, white, 
 sparsely trimmed with delicately fine embroideries 
 and a few knots of purple ribbon. There was a 
 distinct arrogation of simplicity, but the minute- 
 ness and perfection of detail showed that a taste 
 for the ornate in decoration was only held in sub- 
 jectipn by the laws of the appropriate. She was 
 very pretty. A flush on her face accented the 
 fairness of her complexion ; her eyes, so deeply 
 blue that they were almost purple, were downcast 
 and shaded by dark lashes ; her parted lips the 
 upper one particularly delicate, sensitive, and well 
 cut, curving downward showed a line of small 
 white teeth ; her nose was straight and noticeably 
 narrow from the point to the line of the nostril, 
 this, with the oval of her face, gave her a look of
 
 4 FELICIA. 
 
 much refinement ; her hair, a red-brown, almost 
 auburn, was brushed back, but close about her 
 brow the heat had curled sundry tendrils that had 
 a tinge of gold ; when she looked up and laughed, 
 dimples were apparent in the soft rose of each 
 cheek. 
 
 " I am growing very cynical," she cried. " I 
 am sour and disappointed." Then she looked 
 down again and pouted. She understood human 
 nature well enough to know that she might pout 
 as much as she chose in cousin Robert's presence. 
 
 " In what, may I ask, are you disappointed ? " 
 he demanded, with due gravity. 
 
 " In life," replied Miss Felicia Hamilton, sen- 
 tentiously. 
 
 " That 's sad," said cousin Robert. 
 
 " In life," she repeated, this time vivaciously. 
 " It promises one thing, and it offers another. I 
 am educated to one set of views, and when I have 
 developed what mind I have according to them, 
 suddenly I am expected to conform to another set, 
 entirely different. This was the way of it, cousin 
 Robert." She bent upon him a smile calculated 
 to win to partisanship a more obdurate heart than 
 his, and continued with a delightful show of con- 
 fidence : 
 
 " You see, when I was young quite young, I 
 mean, ten years ago I was a little bookworm ; 
 very intellectual, I assure you, though you might 
 not think it now. I read everything ; I was very 
 precocious. I cared nothing for the other young
 
 FELICIA. 5 
 
 girls and their amusements, or pretty things to 
 wear, or music, only for books, books. Papa 
 said that was all wrong. He did not want me to 
 grow up shy, and absorbed, and awkward. He 
 wanted me to shine in society, to be elaborately 
 educated, and have fine manners. So he sent me 
 to Madame Sevier, and there I remained ten 
 years, even during the vacations. She and the 
 rest of them did their duty, and I tried to do 
 mine. Now, what do you think papa says ? That 
 I am frivolous and spoiled; that I care too much 
 for dress and society, and am not domestic at 
 all ! " with much exclamatory emphasis of 
 pretty eyes and lips, " and don't love home. 
 Frivolous, that 's what he calls me ! " 
 
 Two tears rose to the violet eyes that rested on 
 cousin Robert's face, and his heart was hot within 
 him against the absent Judge. 
 
 " Your father expects you to be ' domestic ' after 
 ten years with Madame Sevier?" sarcastically 
 commented this wise clerical confidant and spir- 
 itual pastor. 
 
 " And we saw a great deal of very fashionable 
 society with Madame Sevier," resumed the young 
 lady suddenly, and with much vivacity. " And 
 in summer she had directions to take me to the 
 mountains and the seashore, Newport, Sara- 
 toga, the White Mountains. We went every- 
 where. She knew everybody ; that is, every- 
 body worth knowing. Now, is that the kind of 
 training to fit a girl for a sleepy little Southern 
 country town like Blankburg ? "
 
 FELICIA. 
 
 " Any young men ? " inquired cousin Robert, 
 demurely. 
 
 She looked at him expressively. 
 
 " Such sticks ! " she said, concisely. 
 
 Cousin Robert's face betrayed no amusement. 
 It was a long, thin face, with bright gray eyes, a 
 hooked nose, some premature wrinkles, a strag- 
 gling mustache, fine teeth, a large mouth, and oc- 
 casionally a brilliant smile. His lank figure was 
 disposed in a comfortable attitude in an easy- 
 chair, and his white hands, with their slim, ner- 
 vous fingers, rested on its arms. His hat and 
 cane ornamented a table near by, and his wife's 
 parasol was on the sofa. This was not a pastoral 
 call, merely a prolonged cousinly visit. 
 
 " Why are they sticks ? " he asked. 
 
 " Divinity students," she replied, with a certain 
 scorn. Then, with an abrupt resumption cf her 
 smooth manner, " Don't you think, cousin Robert, 
 that such men are very young ? I don't mean in 
 years, some of them are not very young in 
 years, but in experience. They are rather 
 well, raw, you know, or perhaps crude." 
 
 " I think ' raw ' is the word you want," he said. 
 " They are apt to be raw till some such young 
 lady as you takes them in hand, when they gener- 
 ally get done very brown indeed." 
 
 She did not reply directly to this. Men like 
 cousin Robert have only themselves to thank if 
 their feminine acquaintance regard them as chiefly 
 useful in preventing conversation from degenerat- 
 ing into monologue*
 
 FELICIA. 7 
 
 " Papa considers it very unseemly that I do not 
 rate those young men more highly. He says they 
 are well read, and cultivated, and all that. Of 
 course they are. It is their metier to be culti- 
 vated. But they know books, and nothing else. 
 They don't know life; they don't know human 
 nature. Those young men talk books until I am 
 ready to perish : Herbert Spencer, and systems, 
 and refutations, and everything in books, from 
 Pliny up and down. Now, I am tired of Pliny. 
 I have heard all I want to hear about Pliny ; I 
 used to read about Pliny myself, a long time 
 ago, when I was young. Papa can't under- 
 stand all that. He thinks a town with a flourish- 
 ing theological school is the very place to please a 
 young woman with a cultivated understanding. 
 And among them all I find it dull in Blankburg, 
 dull as the grave." 
 
 " I hope you do not find society in this city so 
 dull as in Blankburg," said cousin Robert, sym- 
 pathetically. 
 
 " So far as I can judge, being a stranger," she 
 replied, demurely, her manner conveying an inti- 
 mation that a visitor's verdict must of necessity 
 be favorable, " society here may be very pleasant. 
 Now, you must understand, cousin Robert," she 
 added, with a sudden return of liveliness, and 
 bending upon him convincing eyes, " I am not a 
 missish young woman, eager to meet an Adonis 
 with a dark mustache. I don't want to fall in 
 love, and I don't want to marry any one "
 
 8 FELICIA. 
 
 " Very, very magnanimous," murmured cousin 
 Robert. 
 
 " but I want to see some interesting people ; 
 men who know life, and politics, and the world, 
 and society." She seemed conscious of a little 
 vagueness, for she added, after a moment's reflec- 
 tion, " I can't explain exactly what I mean. I 
 think I mean men who are intellectual and not 
 eager to display the fact, and polished but not 
 priggish, and who observe instead of expecting 
 others to observe them. I don't care if they are 
 young or old, married or single, American or for- 
 eign. I only want them to be interesting. That 
 does n't seem too much to ask of human nature, 
 does it ? " 
 
 Cousin Robert admitted that it did not, and 
 added that if the congregation of St. Paul's of- 
 fered any of the material she approved as enter- 
 tainment, he might venture to promise that it was 
 at her disposal. 
 
 She glanced at him archly. 
 
 " Will you warrant them ignorant of Pliny?" 
 she asked, mischievously. Then she turned again 
 to the window. 
 
 Her companion had observed that her attention 
 had very slightly wandered during the last few 
 seconds, as her eyes had rested on some object 
 apparently advancing down the sidewalk. He 
 leaned forward, looked out, and suddenly drew 
 back, with palpable annoyance expressed on his 
 face.
 
 FELICIA. 9 
 
 Two ladies, who had been discussing 4H the 
 back parlor a supposed cabal of the disaffected 
 against the Reverend Robert's tenure of office, 
 their conference gaining much of confidential ef- 
 fect from the employment of a mysterious under- 
 tone and acquiescent nods when words failed, 
 now entered the front room. Mrs. John Ham- 
 ilton, a plump little lady, with a brilliant com- 
 plexion and round, intent eyes, might have seemed 
 always listening, so serious was her expression 
 and so marked her general air of attention and 
 responsibility. Mrs. Raymond, on the contrary, 
 seemed irresponsible, inattentive, and inconse- 
 quent. She was much younger than her husband, 
 was fair-haired, blue-eyed, and childish and in- 
 definite in manner. She looked about vaguely 
 for her parasol, and when she had secured it 
 strolled to her husband's armchair, and leaned 
 against it, with her elbows on its back. 
 
 "Isn't it time for us to go home, dear?" she 
 suggested. 
 
 And now came the emergency which drew on 
 cousin Robert's store of tact. 
 
 Her attitude gave her a glimpse of the street, 
 and of a gentleman at this moment traversing 
 the crossing. 
 
 " Why, Robert, there is Hugh Kennett ! " she 
 exclaimed, suddenly. 
 
 The gentleman on the crossing raised his eyes ; 
 they gravely met those of Miss Hamilton ; in an- 
 other instant he had passed out of sight, and she
 
 FELICIA. 
 
 into the room. Mr. Raymond had 
 at length relinquished the armchair, and was 
 standing with his back to the window, in such a 
 position that, as he rose to his feet, he must have 
 prevented the passer from recognizing either him 
 or his wife. This fact, his neglect of Mrs. Ray- 
 mond's question, and the swift, significant glance 
 that he gave her did not escape the attention of 
 our observant young lady ; she recognized cousin 
 Robert's adroitness. She speculated a little on 
 the subject. " Did he want me not to see that 
 they know that gentleman ? " she said to herself. 
 Cousin Robert was not the sort of man to manoeu- 
 vre causelessly in trifling social emergencies ; yet 
 he had clumsily attempted to ignore the existence 
 of his friend. " That was an odd thing," thought 
 Felicia, puzzled. 
 
 Shortly after this the visitors took their de- 
 parture, and as they walked up the street Mr. 
 Raymond gave his wife a little warning. 
 
 " Amy, be careful how yon mention Kennett 
 before your cousin. She is very young and im- 
 pressionable, and it is undesirable that she should 
 become interested in him. She knows very few 
 pleasant people here, and he is an extremely 
 agreeable sort of fellow, and " 
 
 " That is an excellent reason why he should be 
 mentioned," said little Mrs. Amy, with the air of 
 seeing both sides of a question. 
 
 " Oh, good gracious ! " ejaculated the Rever- 
 end Robert Raymond, like any other exclamatory 
 miserable sinner, " think of the old Judge."
 
 FELICIA. 11 
 
 " I forgot the Judge," said Amy, quickly and 
 apprehensively. " I will be careful." 
 
 People thus unexpectedly reminded of the 
 Judge were apt to hurriedly concede the point, 
 and to wear for some time an anxious and de- 
 pressed air.
 
 II. 
 
 FOR a number of mornings previous to the 
 one herein commemorated, Miss Hamilton, whose 
 habit it was to sit, with some slight resource in 
 the way of fancy-work, near one of the windows 
 which opened upon the quiet suburban avenue, 
 had observed a tall, sedate stranger advance along 
 the opposite sidewalk, cross the street, and disap- 
 pear from view. Perhaps her attention was at- 
 tracted because of the regularity of this episode ; 
 perhaps because his appearance approximated her 
 somewhat exacting ideal; perhaps because the 
 first time she saw him he was looking at the win- 
 dow with a certain expectancy. Among the ac- 
 pomplishments she had acquired under Madame 
 Sevier's tutelage was not the grace of humility. 
 The idea was instantly suggested that he had be- 
 fore seen her here, and was on the lookout for 
 her. This flattered her and piqued her curiosity, 
 all the more because of the regular recurrence 
 of the phenomenon about the same hour. He 
 was a grave man, twenty-five or thirty years of 
 age ; handsome in a certain sense, but not in the 
 style that usually attracts the favorable regards of 
 young girls. He had deeply set gray eyes, an 
 aquiline nose, a large, firm chin, a finely chiseled
 
 FELICIA. 13 
 
 mouth and flexible lips, about which were lines: 
 that showed a capacity for varying expression. 
 The strong lower jaw, and broad, high forehead 
 gave the face a certain squareness. He was clean- 
 shaven, and his light brown hair was clipped close 
 to a shapely head. He wore a well-fitting suit of 
 light cloth, and a straw hat. He was tall, well 
 proportioned, and -- as an experienced observer 
 could easily have seen in good training from the 
 standpoint of athletics. He walked slowly, but at 
 an even pace, looking neither to the right nor the 
 left ; and there was nothing, apparently, which 
 broke the monotony of his methodical progress 
 down the street except the momentary interest 
 with which he glanced at the front window of the 
 corner house. 
 
 Now, if there had been any recognizable be- 
 trayal of such interest at this stage of the affair, 
 or any attempt to inaugurate an acquaintance, 
 the matter would have abruptly terminated, and 
 Hugh Kennett would have had only the view 
 of John Hamilton's closed window-blinds for his 
 pains ; for the young lady, with all her caprice, 
 her somewhat exaggerated self-esteem, to put it 
 mildly, and her love of excitement, was fastid- 
 ious, and a devotee to externals. It pleased her 
 that he should look with covert eagerness toward 
 the house, that he should distantly and respect- 
 fully admire her, and that she should subtly di- 
 vine his admiration. Since, however, the vanity 
 which receives homage as due is more exacting
 
 14 FELICIA. 
 
 than the vanity which asserts a claim, the affair 
 was not likely to go further but for the inter- 
 position of accident. 
 
 The accident was of an obvious and simple 
 nature merely an afternoon call. 
 
 " I think I should like to take the phaeton and 
 go over to see Amy," remarked Miss Hamilton to 
 her sister-in-law, one day, " provided I can secure 
 the society of the festive Frederick." 
 
 It was the habit in the Hamilton family to 
 allude to the eight-year-old son of the house with 
 a sort of caressing mockery, in phrases of doubt- 
 ful value as witticisms, but of humorous intent. 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton replied that it was a pleasant 
 day for the trip, and that the horse and phaeton 
 were entirely at their service. 
 
 The " festive Frederick " was four feet high 
 and fractious. To find him was a matter of diffi- 
 culty. When found, he declared tumultuously 
 that he would rather dieHhan go to call at cousin 
 Arny's, a reckless assertion, since he was 
 mounted on a bicycle, and destruction seemed to 
 menace him at every yard of his tottering pro- 
 gress. There was a swift exchange of argument 
 and counter-argument. The nephew deftly re- 
 clined on his tall steed against a convenient tree- 
 box, his distorted shadow stretching along the 
 sidewalk among the dappling similitudes of the 
 maple leaves. A golden haze was in the air ; down 
 the vista of the street might be seen a vast spread 
 of clustering roofs ; spires caught the light and 
 glittered.
 
 FELICIA. 15 
 
 " Very well," said Felicia at last. " I dare say 
 I can go alone. Sometimes there are cows on the 
 streets ; probably I shall meet some ; and if cou- 
 sin Robert is not at his house, or if he is too busy 
 to drive me home, I may have to come back by 
 myself." 
 
 There was a pause. The boy on the bicycle 
 wore a troubled and thoughtful air. 
 
 " They have a good many fires in this city," 
 continued the young lady, discursively, " and when 
 the engines bang a gong and tear along they 
 always frighten me. However, perhaps I can 
 take care of myself." 
 
 She turned away resignedly. 
 
 The heart that beat so ambitiously on the giddy 
 mount was a chivalric heart enough, after all. 
 There was a short scuffle of descent, and the two 
 set out in amity. 
 
 The Reverend Robert Raymond lived in a por- 
 tion of the city so secluded that it had a village- 
 like aspect. Farther west were miles of staring, 
 new, ted brick dwellings and corner groceries, 
 drug stores, livery stables, all important and busy 
 with neighborhood trade ; but this retired region 
 the march of improvement, in some inexplicable 
 freak, had spared. Grass and trees surrounded 
 most of the houses, which were old-fashioned, 
 roomy, not altogether convenient according to ex- 
 acting modern standards, but sufficiently comfort- 
 able. Among them was a large, square, two-story 
 brick dwelling, with a wide veranda in front. The
 
 16 FELICIA. 
 
 shadows were long on the grass, streaked with the 
 yellow rays of the afternoon sun, as Miss Hamil- 
 ton and her youthful escort took their way up the 
 gravel walk. 
 
 A man like the rector of St. Paul's usually has 
 some hobby. His hobby was the art of garden- 
 ing. He never accomplished anything very re- 
 markable ; the aid of professionals was the sole 
 reliance before the season was well advanced. 
 But when he pridefully surveyed the result of 
 their joint efforts, his calm arrogation to himself 
 singly of the entire merit of his garden was a 
 thing to behold ; and every spring his faith that 
 his own work would supply the family with toma- 
 toes and Hubbard squash was as consummate as 
 his faith in the Creed. Experience taught him 
 nothing, for cousin Robert was one of those lucky 
 souls who believe the thing that they wish to be- 
 lieve. Felicia saw him now in the kitchen garden 
 at the side of the house, plying his rake among 
 the lettuce ; apparently a painful operation, for 
 he was a long man, and the rake was a particu- 
 larly short rake, being, in fact, his wife's imple- 
 ment for use among the verbenas. Felicia's was 
 not a temperament to sympathize with this sort of 
 pursuit. " Always pottering," she said to herself, 
 with half-affectionate, half-contemptuous indigna- 
 tion. " And if he must potter, why will he 
 break his back with Amy's little old rake ? " 
 
 Her disapproval was not, however, sufficient to 
 mar the cordiality of her look and gesture for
 
 FELICIA. 17 
 
 she was fond of cousin Robert as she passed 
 through the garden gate and went swiftly toward 
 him, both hands outstretched and a gay greeting 
 on her lips. Those dewy red lips were smiling ; 
 her eyes were softly bright ; a rich bloom mantled 
 her delicate cheek ; her musical laughter rang out. 
 To the man lounging on the green bench in the 
 grape-arbor near at hand, half concealed by the 
 swaying branches, she seemed the embodiment of 
 the gracious season ; as joyous, as brilliant, as ex- 
 pressive of life and light, hope and promise, as 
 the early summer-time itself. For, serious and 
 unimpressionable as he looked, Hugh Kennett 
 had an imagination. His Pegasus had, to be sure, 
 been bitted, and bridled, and trained to run for 
 the cup, but on occasion it might bolt like many 
 a less experienced racer. Thus it was that Mr. 
 Kennett evolved a personation instead of seeing 
 merely a beautiful young woman, moving with 
 ease and grace, speaking with a refined accent, 
 and dressed, with a certain individuality of taste, 
 in a light gray costume, embroidered elaborately 
 and delicately with purple pansies that matched 
 well her dark eyes. Being a man of taste as well 
 as imagination, and particularly alert as to the 
 minutiae of effect, her attitude, the harmonies of 
 the colors she wore, the dainty details, appealed 
 as strongly, tnougn less poetically, to his culti- 
 vated perceptions. 
 
 At the souuu 01 ner voice, Mr. Raymond turned, 
 with a start, bne was a little chilled by a sug-
 
 18 FELICIA. 
 
 gestion of constraint in his tones and manner, ap- 
 parent when he greeted her, and still more when 
 he introduced his companion, whom until now she 
 had not seen. Hugh Kennett had risen ; he had 
 a cigar in his hand. He was looking at her with 
 attention ; their eyes met. 
 
 Madame Sevier's training did not comprehend 
 every emergency. Notwithstanding her habit of 
 society, the young lady was for a moment embar- 
 rassed ; she flushed deeply, and her perceptible 
 timidity contrasted agreeably with her manner an 
 instant ago. 
 
 " You are always busy, cousin Robert," she 
 said, glancing down at the lettuce, and conscious 
 of the extreme flatness of her remark. 
 
 " Say, cousin Robert," exclaimed Fred, who had 
 delayed to exchange greetings with a very old, 
 very fat, very dignified pointer on the veranda, 
 and who now came up with the eagerness of the 
 small boy to participate in the conversation, 
 " say, why n't ye sen' yer peas, an' squashes, an' 
 apples, ter the fair, nex' fall? I jus' know yer 'd 
 git the prize. Say, won't yer sen' some ov 'em 
 this year ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know about that," said cousin 
 Robert, leading the way to the house. 
 
 " Oh, you bet I would, if I was a man an' had 
 a garden ! " cried the boy, attempting to possess 
 himself of the rake of the reverend gentleman, 
 who in turn attempted to playfully elude him, and 
 succeeded in making it apparent that no juvenile 
 amateur gardening was desired.
 
 FELICIA. 19 
 
 By the time the party reached the veranda, 
 where two ladies in white dresses were profuse in 
 hospitable greetings and offers of the cane chairs 
 that were grouped about in the shadow of the 
 vines, Felicia's unwonted embarrassment had 
 worn away, and she was mischievously amused by 
 the look of anxious inquiry which Amy cast upon 
 Robert and the shade of discomfort on his face. 
 In her youthful self-sufficiency she suddenly ar- 
 rived, as she fancied, at an explanation of their 
 disquiet. " Cousin Robert seemed to find the intro- 
 duction a trial," she reflected, rapidly. " And 
 the other day he wished to prevent me from see- 
 ing that they know his friend, whom he appar- 
 ently desires to keep in jeweler's cotton. Does 
 he consider me so dangerous as all that, such 
 an ogre that they are afraid for their precious 
 Hugh Kennett ? I think, I really think, Felicia," 
 she concluded, gleefully apostrophizing herself, 
 " you must give your cousin Robert something to 
 be uneasy about." 
 
 By way of accomplishing this purpose she pro- 
 ceeded per ambages. Mr. Raymond, accustomed 
 to her vivacity, it may even be admitted her lo- 
 quacity, was thrown off his guard. Madame 
 Sevier, a very wise person in a certain sense, had 
 numerous theories as to the elements which go to 
 make that finished expression of society, a charm- 
 ing woman, and one of these was apropos of the 
 unloveliness of talk. " Talk," she would declare, 
 " is not conversation. The greatest enemy a
 
 20 FELICIA. 
 
 woman of mind mnst contend against is her own 
 tongue. It is not what she has to say that mat- 
 ters ; it is what she is. If a beautiful girl's fac- 
 ulties are absorbed in expressing her ideas, which 
 in the nature of things are not valuable, she loses 
 what is both valuable and artistic, the charm of 
 her individuality. A certain phase of intellectual 
 adolescence is interesting because of its possibilities 
 and its divinations, but this must disappear as 
 soon as the assumptions of the thinker come to be 
 considered, especially when they are urged with 
 the fatally didactic manner which seems to be in- 
 separable from every woman who has ' views.' " 
 
 Perhaps her favorite pupil had profited by 
 these axioms ; perhaps she was silent only because 
 she had become interested in the talk of the 
 others ; certainly, to those who knew her best she 
 had never appeared to such advantage. She was 
 a conspicuous figure in her circle, and it was the 
 habit of her friends to discuss her much, compar- 
 ing her to herself on different occasions, what 
 she wore, how she looked, what she said. This 
 afternoon there was a sort of still brilliance upon 
 her ; though she spoke seldom, her smile held the 
 charm of an indefinite, delightful promise ; a cer- 
 tain eloquence of expression shone in her bright, 
 dark eyes. 
 
 Sundry theories were not included in cousin 
 Robert's philosophy. It did not occur to him 
 that the young lady talked to him much because 
 she considered him little ; he took heart of grace.
 
 FELICIA. 21 
 
 " A dashing girl like Felicia would never give a 
 second thought to such a sedate fellow as Ken- 
 nett," he assured himself. 
 
 Deprived of Miss Hamilton's conversational 
 aptitude, the party on Mr. Raymond's veranda 
 presented, however, no aspect of Carthusian or 
 Trappist gathering. His mother-in-law, Mrs. 
 Emily Stanley-Brant, was visiting the young cou- 
 ple, and she had no theories as to the unloveliness 
 of talk. She kindly entertained the company. 
 
 Now, everybody knows, or ought to know, that 
 it was^ a great blessing to have been born one of 
 the Stanleys. The reasons why this was a bless- 
 ing ai-e so apparent as to need no explanation ; 
 the Stanleys being so highly reputable and esti- 
 mable a family, well endowed with this world's 
 goods, and holding additional prominence because 
 possessing certain political and legal magnates. 
 It was particularly appropriate that this represen- 
 tative of the Stanleys should have added lustre to 
 the family by her marriage to a certain notable 
 ex-Governor Brant. Although he was greatly 
 her senior, it seemed as much a love-match as so 
 ambitious a woman might achieve. A man who 
 had gone so often to Congress, and who had sat 
 for many years on the judicial bench, fulfilled 
 the most exacting ideal of which she could con- 
 ceive, even had his personal character been less 
 valuable than that of the unexceptionable but pro- 
 saic old gentleman she survived. He had been 
 long since gathered to his fathers, but still lived
 
 22 FELICIA. 
 
 in the reverential, if discursive, reminiscences of 
 his relict. How he rose by degrees to eminence ; 
 how he was elected by overwhelming majorities to 
 the State legislature, to Congress, to the United 
 States Senate ; his friends, his enemies, the causes 
 he espoused, the policies he deprecated, Mrs. 
 Emily Stanley-Brant's acquaintances sometimes 
 heard of these things. The gentleman whose tri- 
 umphs were thus celebrated had been a respecta- 
 ble enough politician of the old school, and it is 
 very creditable to human nature that it was possi- 
 ble for wifely pride to transform him into a hero. 
 
 Her faith in him served the double purpose of 
 keeping his memory green, and of warding off 
 from the endangered company cousin Robert's 
 account which he was aching to give of the 
 steps he had taken last autumn with the straw- 
 berries, and the extremely satisfactory result at- 
 tained by planting in hills and cutting away all 
 runners. The nethermost abysses were not imme- 
 diately reached. The conversation was not agri- 
 cultural, and the worst that the party was called 
 upon for a time to endure was the mellow con- 
 tralto of Mrs. Brant reciting her reminiscences. 
 
 The ex-governor as a theme was not forced 
 upon the company. She was not malapropos ; in- 
 deed, he was merely introduced en passant, in an 
 allusion to Hugh Kennett's father, in a tributary 
 manner, as it were, to the personal conversation. 
 
 " Your name is very familiar to me, Mr. Ken- 
 nett," she said, smiling upon him across the
 
 FELICIA. 23 
 
 veranda, as she sat by Felicia's side. " I remem- 
 ber your father well. I saw him a number of 
 times when I was first in Washington. He was 
 quite a young man, but already notable in his 
 profession. My husband had then just been 
 elected to Congress on the Whig ticket, ah, such 
 a hard-fought contest, Mr. Kennett ! Party feel- 
 ing ran high in those times. People had no luke- 
 warm blood in their veins then." Her manner 
 suggested a certain triumph in the political ani- 
 mosities of the old days. " Only Governor Brant's 
 personal popularity carried him through. He 
 had his own views of political measures, and the 
 event justified him, yes, indeed, always justi- 
 fied him." 
 
 She spoke in an even, agreeable voice ; the very 
 tone embodied so entire a faith in her own words 
 that it imposed concurrence. She had a hand- 
 some face, of a somewhat imperial type ; dark, ex- 
 pressive eyes ; a small, finely shaped head, held 
 well back ; glossy chestnut hair, showing an 
 occasional gleam of gray in its abundance, 
 which was brushed in waving masses on each side 
 of her broad, high brow, and arranged in a heavy 
 coil at the back of her head. She was tall and 
 imposing, and moved with a majestic grace ; her 
 manner expressed kindness, consideration, even 
 deference, and yet instilled, in some brilliant, 
 subtle way, the idea that she could well afford to 
 be so polite, being Mrs. Emily Stanley-Brant. 
 
 Some very thin-skinned people interpreted this
 
 24 FELICIA. 
 
 manner of conciliation and subcurrent of satisfac- 
 tion as condescension, which Felicia Hamilton, in 
 the exercise of a talent that she possessed, the 
 talent of vicariously experiencing, divined that 
 this stranger in especial must find rather marked. 
 Mrs. Brant was almost offensively gracious to 
 Mr. Kennett : she selected him to the exclusion 
 of the others as the recipient of her remarks ; she 
 bent upon him her most amiable smile. 
 
 " You resemble your father," she said ; " yes, 
 very much. And I am told that you inherit his 
 talents. The tones of your voice in speaking re- 
 mind me of him. Very remarkable man, and 
 very successful, yes, indeed. My husband at 
 once predicted his success. ' That young man,' 
 he said to me, ' that young Kennett, will rise 
 high, mark my words.' And the prediction was 
 verified, yes, indeed. Your father held a high 
 place in his calling, no doubt about that." 
 
 Her politeness was so extreme that it was fla- 
 vored with the sentiment of noblesse oblige. 
 " How does our gentleman like to be patted on 
 the back in that style ? " thought Felicia, in secret 
 amusement. She glanced at him, but his face 
 told her nothing. It seemed now a singularly in- 
 expressive face, or he held it in singularly strong 
 control. His gray eyes were fixed on Mrs. Brant's 
 handsome countenance, he made the proper mur- 
 mur of assent and reply, and this was all; and it 
 baffled Felicia. " Perhaps he is only stupid," 
 she thought, in disgust.
 
 FELICIA. 25 
 
 " Your father had a very full, rotund voice," 
 pursued Mrs. Brant. " I should judge that he 
 sang well." 
 
 " He only sang a little for his own pleasure," 
 answered the visitor. " He never studied." 
 
 " The talent for music should ahoays be culti- 
 vated," continued Mrs. Brant, never dropping 
 that soupqon of condescension. " A beautiful 
 art, Mr. Kennett. And it is such a pity that so 
 much money is spent upon it to so little purpose. 
 Now, there 's my Amy. I said, ' Now, my child, 
 Nature has done her part,' a lovely natural 
 voice, Mr. Kennett, high and sweet ; you would 
 be surprised. I sent her North, I secured the 
 best professors. And the result is " she held 
 up her soft white hands expressively, palms out- 
 ward, as if to show the company that nothing was 
 in them " the result is all wasted ! She 
 hasn't opened a piano a dozen times since her 
 marriage ! " 
 
 Four pairs of eyes turned upon the abashed 
 Amy,, who seemed very youthful as she looked 
 deprecatingly up from under her fair hair. Mr. 
 Kennett's voice took on something of the reassur- 
 ing tone with which one encourages a timid child. 
 
 " Why do you give up your singing, cousin 
 Amy ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh," she hesitated, " Robert does n't care for 
 music." 
 
 He glanced at Raymond with a smile. Then 
 his eyes met Felicia's.
 
 26 FELICIA. 
 
 "You and Amy are cousins?" she asked, in 
 surprise. " I did n't know that." 
 
 " Robert and I are cousins," he explained. 
 
 " Oh ! " she said. 
 
 Was it inadvertence, was it coquetry ? While 
 his eyes were still on her face, her lips curved 
 softly into a smile ; those dainty dimples appeared 
 on her cheeks ; her purple eyes, so dark, yet so 
 bright, were smiling, too. She looked straight at 
 him. 
 
 " Do I understand this ? " she said, innocently. 
 " If you are Robert's cousin, of course you are 
 Amy's cousin, and Amy is my cousin, and are 
 you my cousin, too ? " She raised her delicate 
 dark eyebrows inquiringly. 
 
 Mrs. Stanley-Brant gasped a little. Mr. Ray- 
 mond frowned. Amy had the air of cowering 
 back into the recesses of her big cane armchair. 
 Hugh Kennett's eyes were steadily fixed on Miss 
 Hamilton's face. He did not quite interpret her. 
 He was not sure if this were naivete or intention. 
 He only knew that a very beautiful woman was 
 looking at him with the most delightful expression 
 he had ever seen. He had had a wide experience 
 of life, sometimes sordid, sometimes imbued with 
 a certain brilliance ; he thought he had forgotten, 
 among more tangible aims and emotions, the thrill 
 and vague complexity of feeling which stirred him 
 for an instant. A dark flush mounted slowly to 
 his face. He said gravely that to be even a dis- 
 tant relative of hers would be a great privilege.
 
 FELICIA. 27 
 
 The training of Madame Sevier's pupil, if no 
 thing more, made her abundantly aware that her 
 freak was inexcusable, but it must be confessed 
 that she experienced no penitence. She was 
 pleased with the stiffness of his reply ; she was 
 mischievously delighted with the discomfiture of 
 the others, although it had begun to greatly puzzle 
 her. 
 
 Cousin Robert was not destined to remain in 
 disastrous eclipse. In the somewhat awkward 
 pause that ensued, it chanced that the breeze 
 stirred suddenly with an audible murmur the foli- 
 age about the veranda. It seemed to him very 
 adroit to call attention to the honeysuckle vines 
 intertwined in cables about the posts, and tell how 
 they should be planted, pruned, and trained. 
 This led, by one of those easy digressions which 
 come so deftly to men of his profession, to the 
 subject of horticulture generally, and he elabo- 
 rated at some length his theory of the proper 
 system in the case of the tomato plant : that it 
 should be trained against trellises ; that the prin- 
 cipal stalk should be allowed to branch out lat- 
 erally; that all other branches should be ruth- 
 lessly suppressed ; that half the blooms should be 
 pinched off while yet in the bud, what did cou- 
 sin Robert care for Irishisms on a theme like this ? 
 that it should be sprinkled generously before 
 sunrise and after sunset in dry weather. " And 
 in six weeks," he declared, triumphantly, " I shall 
 be able to give you tomatoes, cultivated on this
 
 28 FELICIA. 
 
 principle, luscious as strawberries, red as blood, 
 and big as my hat." 
 
 And while he thus held forth the twilight ad- 
 vanced apace. The afterglow of the sunset sifted 
 through the leaves on Felicia Hamilton's face, all 
 etherealized by the poetic light, and touched with 
 a soft gleam her violet eyes, as they rested on the 
 shadow-flecked turf outside. Far away the rum- 
 bling of an occasional horse-car, or the lighter roll 
 of buggies carrying suburban residents homeward, 
 invaded the stillness. There was a lakelet, or 
 perhaps only a miasmatic pool, in the neighbor- 
 hood, from which frogs croaked in strophe and 
 antistrophe, the sound mellowed by the dis- 
 tance. The air was imbued with that primal en- 
 chantment of summer which belittles all coming 
 later, the delicious fragrance of honeysuckle ; 
 it seemed to have lured two humming-birds from 
 their downy domiciles, and they were evidently 
 gayly bent upon making a night of it, as they 
 quaffed the sweet wine of the flowers in the lin- 
 gering flush of the red sunset. 
 
 " Them hum'n'-birds ain't no good," remarked 
 Fred. " They can't sing, an' they 're so little an' 
 teen-ty." 
 
 He gazed up at the fluttering things, as airy, as 
 alluring, as vaguely glancing, as a fancy, a fasci- 
 nation, a dream, the impulse of a poem yet un- 
 written. 
 
 " Swans ! " he continued, enthusiastically, 
 ; ' they 're the fellers fur my money. Them swans 
 at the Pawk, eh, aunt F'lish ? "
 
 FELICIA. 29 
 
 He rolled over on his side, as he lay at her feet 
 on the floor, and changed the position of his head, 
 which he had pillowed on the old pointer, who 
 moaned and wheezed in meek objection. 
 
 " It is my privilege," said Miss Hamilton, ris- 
 ing, " to drive with this young man to the Park 
 every Saturday afternoon, the one meagre holiday 
 that falls to his toilsome scholastic lot. If he 
 does n't go home and get some sleep, he may not 
 be able to make the trip to-morrow. So we must 
 tear ourselves away." 
 
 Fred rose nimbly. " An' we have most bully 
 drives ter the Pawk, you bet ! " he exclaimed, vi- 
 vaciously. " An' we ain't missed a Sat'day since 
 she 's been in town." 
 
 Mr. Raymond accompanied them to the gate, 
 and assisted Felicia into the phaeton. Soon the 
 clatter of hoofs and the roll of wheels arose, as 
 they disappeared down the street into the purple 
 shadows of the coming twilight.
 
 III. 
 
 ABOUT four o'clock on warm afternoons, there 
 was an interval of quiet, almost of somnolence, in 
 the Lawrence Hotel. The rush of lunch was 
 over ; that of dinner had not begun ; no trains 
 were due or departing ; the glare was tempered 
 to a cool half-light ; decorous officials lounged 
 behind their desks. When a voice fell upon the 
 air from the direction of the bar-room it seemed 
 peculiarly loud and assertive, being rotund and 
 penetrating in quality, and invading the stillness 
 argumentatively. It was interrupted by another, 
 a deep bass, embroidered, so to speak, by several 
 bursts of rich laughter. Then the marble floor 
 resounded with rapid footfalls. One of the men 
 who entered hurriedly was a slim, wiry, active 
 fellow, perhaps thirty-five years of age ; he was 
 much flushed, his steps were unsteady, and he be- 
 trayed a tendency to emphatic gesticulation. His 
 features were irregular and very mobile ; his eyes 
 were gray and deep-set ; heavy wrinkles about his 
 mouth and brow made him seem older than he 
 was. His suit of blue flannel needed brushing, 
 and his straw hat, set far back on his head, also 
 gave evidence of careless wear. His companion 
 was younger, tall, brunette, slim, debonair, point-
 
 FELICIA. 81 
 
 device as to his perfectly fitting light gray suit, 
 and joyous as to spirits. These two emerged into 
 the office as Hugh Kennett entered from the 
 street. At sight of him the younger pushed in 
 advance of his companion. 
 
 " Hello, Kennett ! " he cried, in his deep, gay 
 voice. " You 're just in time. Look at Abbott ; 
 he's trying to shirk his just obligations in the 
 shabbiest way," and his full, rich laughter vi- 
 brated on the air. 
 
 " It 's all right ! " exclaimed Abbott, coming 
 to a sudden stop, and confronting Kennett with a 
 grave, flushed face and an argumentative eye. 
 " Fell'r don't want t' be swindled, ye know. 
 Don't propose to pay more 'n ought to pay, 
 matter princ'ple, ye see." 
 
 A clerk from the bar-room, a fresh-faced young 
 man, evidently inexperienced and oppressed by a 
 sense of conflicting duties, the propitiation of 
 patrons and the responsibility to his employers, 
 had followed the two with hesitation. He also 
 quickened his steps at sight of Kennett, and, ad- 
 dressing him by name, explained, with some 
 vague effort to make light of the matter, that this 
 gentleman had " treated " a number of his friends 
 the previous evening, and now complained of the 
 amount of his bill. 
 
 " Could n't have drunk all that champagne, 
 Kennett," declared Abbott, looking with tipsy 
 solemnity into the other's eyes, " if we 'd all 
 been damned fishes, w'ales, ye know ; give y' m' 
 word we could n't."
 
 32 FELICIA. 
 
 The young man in the gray suit again burst 
 into laughter ; it was rather loud. He was con- 
 tradictorily gentlemanly and prononce ; he was 
 too dashing for good style, yet he had ease and 
 smoothness. He made a comical grimace, which 
 was at once irresistible and reprehensible. 
 
 " The thing 's impossible. They 're trying to 
 swindle you," he said. 
 
 " Don't you think, Preston, you carry a joke 
 to extremes ? " demanded Kennett, glancing with 
 annoyance at the group attracted by the loud 
 voices, and wearing faces in which curiosity and 
 contemptuous amusement were blended. Then 
 he turned to Abbott. " You will be late, if you 
 don't look out." 
 
 " Nev'r fear, old fell'r. Made a hit last night ; 
 goin' t' make a ten strike to-night, see 'f I 
 don't. Goin' t' fly high, bet all ye 're worth 
 on that. Goin' t' float with wind an' tide, 
 see 'f I don't. Goin' t' make my fortune." 
 
 He uttered this string of incompatible similes 
 with an airy wave of the hand which, if he had 
 been sober, might have been eminently graceful. 
 
 " You have made your fortune already. You 
 had better take a carriage *now and go home. 
 He is not fit for anything, Preston. Why don't 
 you get him away ? " 
 
 But Abbott laid his hand on Kennett's shoulder. 
 " You 're my bes' friend, Kennett," he declared. 
 " You saw what I could do. You understood me. 
 You pushed me. Old Hoax'em never would have
 
 FELICIA. 33 
 
 found out what was in me if you .had n't put him 
 up to it. You 're my bes' bes' friend." 
 
 He began to show alarming lachrymose symp 
 toms. There was a touch of real feeling in his 
 voice, but also no little of the pathos of alcohol in 
 various forms. The spectators grinned. Ken- 
 netfc shook him off impatiently. Preston again 
 burst into laughter, and, catching Abbott's arm, 
 dragged him to the door, while Kennett walked 
 back to the bar-room with the custodian of liquid 
 treasures. 
 
 " Sorry to trouble you, sir," said the anxious, 
 fresh-faced young clerk, as Kennett paid the resi- 
 due of the bill, which Abbott, in his wisdom, had 
 seen fit to eliminate. 
 
 " It will be all right when he gets sober." 
 
 " That fellow seems considerable of a scamp," 
 observed an old gentleman standing near, who 
 took his straight. 
 
 Kennett loyally denied it. " He is a good fel- 
 low and very talented," he declared, " but he has 
 some friends who like to see him make a fool of 
 himself." 
 
 By the time he returned to the office it had re- 
 sumed the normal quiet of the hour. He threw 
 himself into one of the red velvet armchairs, 
 lighted a cigar, and took up a newspaper. He 
 glanced at it a few moments, then let it fall on his 
 knee. The noises on the street were languid and 
 intermittent ; nobody came or went. He took his 
 cigar from his lips, eyed it meditatively, then<
 
 84 FELICIA. 
 
 suddenly, " Why not ? " he said, " why not? " 
 and rose to his feet. He replaced his cigar, threw 
 aside his paper, and walked, not briskly, he 
 never walked briskly, but with a certain defi- 
 niteness of intention, to the door. The jangling 
 of an approaching street-car bell grew momently 
 louder, as he waited under the striped awning. 
 He walked out into the blinding sunshine, stepped 
 upon the platform, and was borne with sufficient 
 expedition toward the suburbs. 
 
 In the week that had elapsed since he met Miss 
 Hamilton he had seen her once or twice at the 
 windows of her brother's house, and once in the 
 perspective of the side yard, where, among the 
 ornamental shrubbery, there were garden-seats in 
 the shade, and a fountain that played in the sun- 
 shine. A lady was with her, and several chil- 
 dren. He recognized Fred's voice, half unintel- 
 ligible because of overweening enthusiasm. It 
 seemed a vivacious family group. For the past 
 day or so, however, she had not been visible. 
 He thought she had probably left town. Last 
 evening this conjecture was disproved. He passed 
 the house about eleven o'clock. It was brilliantly 
 lighted, but the blinds were closed, except in one 
 of the parlor windows. He heard the murmur 
 of voices and laughter. For one instant, through 
 the square of the window, the head and shoulders 
 of the young lady were visible as she crossed 
 the room. In the swift transit something pink 
 which she was wearing poetically took on the
 
 FELICIA. 35 
 
 similitude of a rosy cloud, from which her face 
 shone like a star. A gentleman was beside her 
 blonde, handsome, young. They made a pretty 
 picture for the instant that they might be seen. 
 " She is having a fine time," said Hugh Kennett. 
 " I suppose that 's the favored suitor." He 
 laughed at himself, a moment later. " I seem to 
 have a grudge against that youngster," he said, 
 " because she sits at the window sometimes." 
 And he went on in the light of the summer moon. 
 To paraphrase a well-known apothegm, if you 
 do not entertain your frivolous young lady, she 
 will entertain herself. Up to this time Miss 
 Hamilton had had every faculty of an alert, re- 
 ceptive, retentive intellect trained to its utmost 
 possibility in an entirely personal direction. Af- 
 fairs of general moment, every phase of outside 
 life, of thought, of culture, had been presented to 
 her intellectual consciousness as instinct with but 
 one vital element, their effect upon Felicia 
 Hamilton's identity. She had acquired habits of 
 industry and an eager mental activity which, so 
 far, had found scope enough in the scheme of ac- 
 quisition devised for her, and which, now that the 
 limits of this scheme were reached, gave a certain 
 poignancy to this moment, while her life stood ex- 
 pectant, and demanded of the future, What next ? 
 There seemed a vagueness in all possible reply. 
 Her mental discipline had tended to no practical 
 end ; her carefully cultivated social qualifications 
 had no field. If so intense a nature and so alert
 
 36 FELICIA. 
 
 an intellect had been in the passionate possession 
 of a definite ambition ; if, on the other hand, so 
 worldly a woman had commanded a full measure 
 of worldly interests and absorptions, there could 
 have ensued no sense of vacuity. In either case, 
 she would not probably have given as yet half a 
 dozen moments to the thought of Hugh Kennett. 
 The episode of casually meeting him would have 
 slipped into the past with many slight episodes. 
 But in the simply ordered routine of her days 
 there was little to occupy her attention ; she was 
 strangely lonely, one would say, seeing her sur- 
 rounded by the family group. That was the 
 trouble. It was eminently the domestic atmos- 
 phere she was called upon to breathe, and her 
 lungs were not trained to this air. She found a 
 certain monotony in a life of which the most lively 
 incidents were preserving fruit or putting away 
 blankets in camphor for the summer, especially as 
 her interest in the matter was that of the entirely 
 disinterested spectator. She was fond of her sister- 
 in-law and the children ; their society, however, 
 did not absorb all her faculties. To be sure, this 
 was very objectionable. A woman of fine mind 
 and feeling should be able to discover resources 
 in simple pleasures and an uneventful routine ; 
 but que voulez-vous ? Promise a richly spiced 
 diet of daily excitement, and does not the nutri- 
 tious oatmeal become insipid ? 
 
 John Hamilton and his wife were happily and 
 sturdily unaware how limited were their resources
 
 FELICIA. 37 
 
 for entertainment as measured from their visitor'." 
 standpoint. They accorded, as they supposed, all 
 due consideration to the amusement of their young 
 guest. They took her several times to the theatre ; 
 they drove with her through the parks ; they 
 showed her the notable pictures ; they gave her 
 an " evening." This " evening " bored Felicia to 
 the verge of coma. 
 
 John Hamilton would have laughed to scorn 
 the idea that society could be anything of a serious 
 affair ; that the best results are attained by ex- 
 perts who pursue it with acumen and diligence, 
 and with mental exercises that have some analogy 
 to the careful vaticinations of chances and of ele- 
 ments which a man of business gives to the stock 
 fluctuations on 'Change. Social life he regarded 
 with that peculiar sort of half-amused nonchalance 
 characteristic of a rural magnate, who had found 
 it an exceedingly simple matter in his village 
 home and in the large provincial city contiguous, 
 where he and his family were as well known as 
 the court-house or the university at which he had 
 received his collegiate education. To his mind, 
 people who were not aware that this favored 
 region was the most delightful on earth, its educa- 
 tional facilities were the most desirable, and its 
 society was the most agreeable, were people much 
 to be pitied. He was a man of inherited fortune, 
 independent of his expectations from his father. 
 He had of late years greatly increased his busi- 
 ness ventures, and, having nerve and money and
 
 88 FELICIA. 
 
 luck on his side, he was rapidly making a large 
 fortune. In extending his operations, the advan- 
 tageous field offered by Chilounatti had been 
 pressed upon his attention, and some six months 
 earlier he had removed thither ; taking with him 
 a certain dash and an enterprise that instantly 
 began to make itself felt in financial circles, and 
 taking also his imperative personality, his breezy, 
 good-humored manner, and his disregard of con- 
 ventionality in its more exacting sense. It was 
 owing to various cumulative and ramifying effects 
 of some of these circumstances and traits of char- 
 acter that the " evening " presented some features 
 which might distinguish it from many similar en- 
 tertainments. 
 
 A new-comer into any society, with the definite 
 claims of money and family, is apt to be the re- 
 cipient of its respectful attentions, and when Ham- 
 ilton desired to ask a few people to meet his sister 
 he was at no loss for material. He cast about 
 and invited somewhat at haphazard among vari- 
 ous families who had been especially polite to him 
 and his wife. It did not occur to him, however, 
 that while his guests were heavy weights financially 
 and socially, most of them were equally ponderous 
 mentally, and that he had not secured a sufficient 
 quantity of a lighter and more vivacious element 
 to leaven the entertainment, and render it alto- 
 gether congenial to a person of the fair benefi- 
 ciary's age and temperament. The majority of 
 the company, substantial business potentates, stol-
 
 FELICIA. 39 
 
 idly partook of the conversation and the viands, 
 and lent as much of animation to the occasion as 
 did their wives or the armchairs. A few younger 
 people were present ; an incipient lawyer, heavy 
 and monosyllabic, with an unresponsive and sus- 
 picious eye ; a rising architect, whose reputation 
 for talent he was apparently conscious needed con- 
 stant vindication ; he vindicated it by a haughty 
 inclination to silence, and, when he did speak, as 
 much of covert sarcasm as was admissible. There 
 were also two young collegians, Seniors in a locally 
 celebrated university, one blonde and rather 
 shy, the other a trifle flippant. Both of these 
 seemed very distrustful of Felicia ; indeed, all the 
 unmarried men apparently thought it necessary to 
 be on their guard against her, perhaps as 
 vaguely dangerous, perhaps lest a chance word of 
 theirs might minister, contrary to their intention, 
 to her self-approval, which they divined and ir- 
 rationally resented. The married men regarded 
 her with mild indifference. The ladies appre- 
 ciated her sparkle, her grace, her poise, her gra- 
 cious little coquetry, which they had the insight to 
 perceive she wore like her flowers, as embellish- 
 ment to herself and in compliment to the guests 
 and the festivity ; not by way of tribute to her 
 interlocutor, as the young architect, the lawyer, 
 and the collegians fancied one moment, and half 
 angrily doubted the next. These young men had 
 the "touchy" vanity peculiar to immature years 
 and inexperience, when, unfortunately, it is not
 
 40 FELICIA. 
 
 neutralized by geniality or frivolity. They took 
 themselves, Felicia, and the occasion with the ut- 
 most seriousness, not to say tragically. 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton's friends had heard much of her 
 sister-in-law, who was, in her way, something of a 
 social celebrity. It was with very genuine curi- 
 osity that they looked at the young lady dressed 
 in faint pink, with a wonderful contrast of darkly 
 red roses on her bosom and in her hand. She 
 held a large pink fan with a full-blown rose and 
 bud painted with such realism that she seemed to 
 have robbed her dress for it ; she waved it slowly 
 back and forth ; occasionally she opened and shut 
 it. She had great ease of manner. However 
 many were about her, she bestowed some words 
 on each, and a gracious smile ; she listened with 
 an appearance of deep interest to whatever was 
 said, and replied aptly and spiritedly. More than 
 one of our young gentlemen esteemed this un- 
 candid, she could n't be so pleased as that 
 with bald-headed old Harcourt, you know, or 
 that blushing fool, young Orton. She looked at 
 them softly and brightly. The mature young 
 ladies thought she " made eyes " at the gentlemen ; 
 it must be admitted she made them very impar- 
 tially. 
 
 The burden of the entertainment devolved upon 
 the guest of the evening, and the manner in which 
 she acquitted herself of the responsibility extorted 
 more appreciation than she supposed. She had 
 her reward, however, such as it was, when the
 
 FELICIA. 41 
 
 guests took leave, to see that there was a trifle of 
 animation and even gayety among them, and in 
 the approval of John Hamilton and his wife. 
 
 " What a brilliant, brilliant evening ! " cried 
 Mrs. Hamilton, as the door shut on the last guest. 
 " Oh, Felicia, how exquisite you look, and how 
 delightfully you made it go off ! What pleasure 
 it is going to give me to entertain often in this 
 lovely way ! " 
 
 Felicia hardly knew whether to laugh or to cry. 
 After she had shut herself into her own room she 
 decided upon the latter course, and shed a few 
 tears of vexation and fatigue. How was it, she 
 asked herself, that she could not come across any 
 agreeable people ? Were she and cousin Robert 
 the only conversable human beings in this great 
 city ? Perhaps it was because she knew so few, 
 so very few. Perhaps she had not noticed be- 
 fore it is necessary to meet two or three hun- 
 dred people in order to winnow the mass, and ex- 
 tract the infrequent half dozen or so pleasant 
 friends who make life endurable. How dull the 
 whole affair had been, this evening, and how in- 
 supportable was life ! With her temperament 
 and at her age one has no future ; the temporary 
 disappointment curtained her horizon with as dis- 
 tinct a cloud as a real sorrow. What better could 
 John have done ? she said. He could not help it 
 if he knew nobody who was interesting. She be- 
 lieved there was nobody who was interesting in 
 the place. She could not remember a face with a
 
 42 FELICIA. 
 
 spark of intelligence, except that of the silent 
 man she met at cousin Robert's. She supposed 
 he had some brains ; he looked as if he had. 
 With his face the last image in her mind, she 
 fell asleep. 
 
 The next morning she again remembered Hugh 
 Kennett, and at breakfast, after a full discussion 
 of the festivity of the previous evening, she asked 
 her brother if he knew a cousin of cousin Robert's, 
 a man named Kennett. 
 
 " Never heard of him," said John Hamilton, 
 buttering his roll with quick strokes. He was 
 eating in a hurry, for breakfast was late, as is 
 meet after a party. He was in a good humor, 
 however : the " evening " had gone off very well, 
 his wife was pleased, and he supposed his sister 
 was delighted. 
 
 " He passes here every day, about eleven 
 o'clock," persisted Felicia. " A tall man who 
 has no mustache or beard, and usually wears a 
 sort of fawn - colored suit, sometimes blue, 
 sometimes a gray suit." 
 
 " Don't recognize the description, passes here 
 every day at eleven o'clock ? " He brushed away 
 with his napkin the crumbs adhering to the long, 
 fair mustache that swept across his full, florid 
 cheek, and fixed his blue eyes on his sister's face. 
 " Felicia," he said, with mock gravity, " don't 
 have anything to say to any fellow even if he is 
 Raymond's cousin who does n't go down town 
 till eleven o'clock. He must be president of a 
 bank, a faro-bank."
 
 FELICIA. 48 
 
 He burst into a loud laugh at his own witti- 
 cism, and catching up his hat put it on his head, 
 where it fortunately concealed an expanse of pre- 
 mature baldness, and revealed only a fringe of 
 close-clipped brown hair. He was light on his 
 feet for a heavy man, and in another instant his 
 rapid step resounded down the hall ; the door 
 closed with a bang ; he dashed into a passing car, 
 and was instantly absorbed in abstruse calcula- 
 tions concerning the possible corner in wheat, as 
 oblivious to the fact of a girl's vague and delicate 
 complications of feeling as though no such subtle 
 and imperative forces were in existence. 
 
 When Fred reminded his aunt, that afternoon, 
 of her promise to drive with him to the Park, he 
 was disgusted to perceive that she seemed dis- 
 posed to shirk her obligation. She was tired, she 
 said ; she felt languid, perhaps it was a touch 
 of malaria. Besides, did n't he see what she was 
 doing ? This was the baby's flannel petticoat she 
 was embroidering as a surprise for his mother. 
 Wouldn't he be pleased to see his little sister 
 wear a petticoat with such deep embroidery ? 
 And what a pretty design ! roses and lilies, 
 so appropriate. 
 
 But Fred said he would n't be pleased at all. 
 " I ain't goin' ter let you off fur nothin', just 
 trine ter cheat me out'n my trip, because you 
 know mamma won't lemme go by myself, when 
 there ain't one bit of danger, nohow," whined 
 Fred.
 
 44 FELICIA. 
 
 He raised his stormy freckled face, almost as 
 red with to-day's varied experiences as if it had 
 been parboiled. Expostulation, surly disfavor, im- 
 pending outbreak, and entreaty were oddly blended 
 in his eloquent blue eyes ; his hat was pushed far 
 bak on his disheveled flaxen hair, which was 
 beaded with moisture, and stood upright from his 
 brow in damp wisps. His complication of ex- 
 pressions moved Felicia ; she began to fold her 
 work. 
 
 " An' I think a smart girl like you," continued 
 Fred, with his own inimitable patronage, " might 
 find somethin' nicer ter do than workin' old 
 flow'rs in an old baby's petticoat, when she don't 
 know a rose from a tadpole." 
 
 "No doubt you are right about that," said 
 Felicia, with a laugh. 
 
 She might have had for her drive more improv- 
 ing and intellectual companionship, but it would 
 have been difficult to surpass Fred on the score of 
 animation. He chatted without cessation, in high 
 feather; now and again his cackling juvenile laugh- 
 ter split the air. Felicia, too, was well pleased. 
 The afternoon was soft, yet fresh ; the horse was 
 gentle but spirited, and very fast ; the roads were 
 excellent ; from the crests of the many slight ele- 
 vations were fine views of purple hills and green 
 and yellow fields ; now and then were visible the 
 silver curves of the river, all softened by the dis- 
 tance and the transmuting afternoon sunshine. 
 She appreciated intensely that quaint combina-
 
 FELICIA. 45 
 
 tion of ingenuousness, conceit, generosity, and 
 selfishness which characterizes callow male human 
 nature, and she had not been sufficiently long an 
 intimate of Fred's to wear threadbare the interest 
 she took in his peculiarities. It was her habit to 
 conduct herself toward him with a certain cama- 
 raderie, serious or mirthful according to circum- 
 stances ; and he accepted her tone in all good 
 faith, nothing doubting that his consequence was 
 as definite as her manner implied. 
 
 Thus they bowled cheerily along the broad 
 thoroughfare, overtaking and passing many other 
 pleasure-seekers in vehicles and on horseback ; 
 past handsome suburban residences, with lawns 
 and gardens, growing gradually more extensive ; 
 past vacant lots, with big placards inscribed " For 
 Sale," conspicuously displayed ; past now and 
 then a field, which was some day to be divided 
 into lots and also placarded, and perhaps in the 
 good time coming to be built up, when the " City 
 of Splendid Promises " should redeem some of its 
 pledges to futurity and extend thus far ; past here 
 and there sparse strips of woodland. And all at 
 once more houses, although it seemed a moment 
 ago that the country was almost reached, 
 plenty of them, too ; city houses, showy, expen- 
 sive, and modern. And here was the broad im- 
 pressive entrance to the Park, crowded with vehi- 
 cles coming and going, presided over by members 
 of the Park police, and by a great equestrian 
 statue, looking down silent and inscrutable. It
 
 46 FELICIA. 
 
 was not disagreeable, after a time, to turn from 
 the wide, much-frequented gravel drives down one 
 of the quiet woodland ways. The sunshine and 
 shadows flecked the road before them ; vistas of 
 greenery, upon which were imposed the brown 
 boles of oak and hickory trees, stretched on each 
 side ; now and again the ground fell away in gen- 
 tle grassy slopes ; here they caught sight of a 
 great burst of yellow sunshine flooding an open 
 space in the distance, and here were steep banks 
 and a stream gliding far below ; the shadows were 
 thick ; the vegetation crowded close about the 
 water ; the horse's hoofs fell with a hollow sound 
 as they pulled him into a walk, and they crossed 
 the bridge slowly ; and now on the opposite banks 
 and away, the ground flying beneath the feet of 
 the good Kentucky trotter. 
 
 In this portion of the Park little in the way of 
 landscape gardening had been done, the attrac- 
 tions of the place being judiciously intrusted to 
 well-tended smooth " dirt roads," and forest trees 
 growing as Nature chose along the hillsides and 
 about the levels. But upon emerging suddenly 
 from the shaded ways into the sunshine, the more 
 conventional aspect of flower-beds, fountains, lake- 
 lets, grottoes, and fanciful pagoda-like structures 
 was presented. A stone basin by the roadside, 
 through which a stream of water was flowing, all 
 at once reminded Fred that he might introduce 
 the element of variety into the expedition. 
 
 " We ain't give Henry Clay one drop of water
 
 FELICIA. 47 
 
 since we started 1 " lie exclaimed, reining up sud- 
 denly. 
 
 " He can't be thirsty. Don't stop," protested 
 Felicia. 
 
 If, however, one makes it a habit to place a 
 boy of eight on a plane of consequence and dig- 
 nity, it is not improbable that he will indorse the 
 status in a manner and to a degree not always 
 convenient. Fred, willful under all circumstances, 
 was particularly resentful of authority where Feli- 
 cia was concerned. She had herself to blame for 
 the state of mind in which he composedly de- 
 scended, paying not the slightest attention to her 
 words, climbed upon a terrace close by, labo- 
 riously unfastened the check-rein, and led the 
 horse to the trough. The animal was evidently 
 not thirsty, but he thrust his nozzle into the water 
 and went through the motions of drinking, now 
 and then turning his intelligent eyes contempla- 
 tively on the round, rosy face of the boy at his 
 head. The sunshine was bright on his glossy bay 
 coat that shone like satin; the wind whispered 
 through the leaves ; a thrush was singing in the 
 clump of lilacs near by ; some few belated blooms 
 sent out on the air their delicate fragrance. Feli- 
 cia sat in the phaeton waiting, the reins in her 
 hands. 
 
 At this moment, unluckily, a boy, a year or 
 two older than Fred, came cantering down the 
 road on a black pony. He stopped upon seeing 
 the party at the trough, and the two boys greeted
 
 48 FELICIA. 
 
 each other as Damon and Pythias might have 
 done after a separation of years, if both were suf- 
 fering from the infirmity of deafness. Fred 
 left the horse's head, and ran to the side of the 
 pony. Suddenly, to Felicia's amazement and hor- 
 ror, she saw him, after a short conference, loud 
 enough, but unintelligible to her, put his foot 
 into the stirrup and scramble up behind his friend. 
 In reply to her eager remonstrance, he turned 
 upon her an excited eye and a grave, sunburned 
 face. " You just wait here for me," he said, per- 
 emptorily. " I 've got to go to this boy's an' see 
 his new rabbit-house. He lives just outside the 
 Pawk. I '11 be back d'rec'ly. You just wait." 
 
 Objection was useless. Felicia had merely 
 time to open her lips for the purpose, when the 
 two equestrians were off like the wind, clattering 
 toward the southern gates, leaving the wrathful 
 young lady sitting in the phaeton, and Henry 
 Clay looking after them in dignified surprise, 
 until he bethought himself of the trough and 
 occupied himself with pretending to drink. 
 
 The moments passed wearily. Now and again, 
 Felicia, hearing the sound of rapid hoof-beats, 
 would turn her head expectantly to see only 
 strangers gallop by. At length, tired and rest- 
 less, she descended from the phaeton, slipped the 
 hitching-rein through a ring on a post that stood 
 in convenient proximity, and addressed herself to 
 systematically waiting for the truant rabbit-fan- 
 cier. She strolled up and down the walks ; she
 
 FELICIA. 49 
 
 gathered a few clover blooms and offered them 
 to Henry Clay, who accepted them languidly, 
 looking at her with a touch of contemptuous com- 
 miseration, she fancied ; she bethought herself of 
 a book which had been placed in the phaeton, 
 in order that she and Fred could take it, on their 
 way home, to a friend of Mrs. Hamilton's. She 
 returned to the phaeton, secured the volume, and 
 placed herself on one of the benches that stood 
 on the grassy margin of the lake. She did not 
 read, however ; the breeze fluttered the leaves, 
 and brought to her many perfumes from the fan- 
 tastically shaped beds of flowers near by ; the 
 expanse of water dimpled in the sunshine ; a boat, 
 filled with children and with its pennons flying, 
 was making its way toward the island ; some 
 swans, slowly sailing about, arched their necks, 
 and approached, and receded, until one, bolder 
 than the rest, waddled up the bank toward the 
 young lady, with sharp, unmusical cries of insist- 
 ence. It seemed all at once to realize that it 
 had mistaken her for some human friend in the 
 habit of bringing a supply of cake or cracker ; it 
 paused, gazed at her intently, its head inquiringly 
 on one side, its long neck stretched laterally toward 
 her ; it turned as suddenly, waddled off, glided 
 into the water, and gracefully floated away. 
 
 Felicia's smile was still on her lips, when, 
 observing that a shadow had fallen across her 
 page, she looked up. 
 
 "That seemed a case of mistaken identity,"
 
 50 FELICIA. 
 
 said Hugh Kennett, referring to the bird's notice- 
 able manoeuvre. He was lifting his hat ; the 
 gesture was ceremonious, but he was smiling as he 
 looked at her, smiling like an old friend. 
 
 " It was disappointed," said Felicia. 
 
 "I believe you drive out to this park rather 
 frequently with your little brother." 
 
 " My little nephew," corrected Felicia. " Yes, 
 every Saturday. He does n't deserve to come 
 again. I can appreciate Ariadne's despair. He 
 left me here, while he has gone to look at another 
 boy's rabbit-house." 
 
 She was in the habit of being much attended, 
 and she deprecated that she should be sitting here 
 alone, seeming, she fancied, rather forlorn, but 
 she attempted to carry off the matter as jauntily 
 as possible. " I am very angry with him, but I 
 suppose I shall forgive him before his next holi- 
 day. He considers me pledged for Saturdays." 
 
 " They have music here on some of the other 
 afternoons." 
 
 "But there is such a crowd." 
 
 " You dislike a crowd ? " 
 
 " It is not an interesting sort of crowd," said 
 Miss Hamilton, exactingly ; " it is a rabble, with 
 a few nice people sprinkled in." 
 
 "After all, human nature is human nature," 
 said Hugh Kennett. 
 
 So far he had been standing in the middle of 
 the wide walk. He had replaced his straw hat ; 
 he held a little cane motionless with both hands
 
 FELICIA. 51 
 
 behind him. The attitude showed his sinewy and 
 admirably proportioned figure to much advantage. 
 The fawn-colored suit he wore fitted well, and its 
 soft tone accorded with his peculiar coloring. 
 His complexion, neither noticeably fair nor dark, 
 had a certain warmth, and its delicacy of texture 
 suggested an indoor pursuit. He had the look 
 of a man who conserves an enviable physical 
 trim. Well in health, well fed, well dressed, 
 with nerves, mind, and heart under full control, 
 this was the impression given by his personal 
 appearance. His eye, now that she saw it close 
 and in a bright light, was full and clear; there 
 were composure and strength in its expression. 
 
 Before Felicia replied she hesitated a moment. 
 That moment meant a great deal to her. She 
 was about many things somewhat exacting. Mat- 
 ters of social usage and form were important in 
 her eyes ; perhaps she even exaggerated the im- 
 portance of her own dignity. She knew that he 
 desired her to ask him to take the vacant place 
 beside her, it was what he was waiting for. 
 She knew that to do so would confer upon him 
 the favor of her acquaintance. She would not 
 confer it merely because he desired it. She de- 
 liberately weighed, in that short pause, the rea- 
 sons for and against this course. That he was 
 Robert's cousin, and that she had met him, a 
 guest, at the Rectory, on friendly terms with the 
 clergyman and his wife, to say nothing of Mrs. 
 Emily Stanley-Brant, went a good way, to be
 
 52 FELICIA. 
 
 sure. But the meeting was accidental, and not 
 necessarily an official indorsement, so to speak. 
 Mr. Raymond had not introduced him to her 
 brother or his wife, and had not brought him to 
 call. On the other, hand, the Raymonds were 
 not very ceremonious about such matters, and 
 this omission might have been merely negligence, 
 not intention. Perhaps he was himself a stranger 
 in Chilounatti ; and again she was reminded how 
 very little she knew of him personally. Although 
 by no means so thoroughly versed in the ways of 
 the world as she deemed herself, she had experi- 
 ence enough to understand the difficulty in grace- 
 fully getting rid of superfluous acquaintances. 
 But was she justified, she argued, in relegating 
 to this circle of the excluded a man whom the 
 most punctilious of men received on intimate 
 terms into his own family, and whose manners 
 and appearance were evidently those of a gentle- 
 man ? She said to herself that she was as com- 
 petent to judge a gentleman as her brother, who 
 was dense in some respects, or cousin Robert, 
 who was flighty. This reflection turned the scale. 
 She raised her eyes to his. 
 
 " Will you sit down ? " she said, gravely. 
 
 "Thank you," he returned, as gravely, and 
 placed himself beside her on the painted bench. 
 
 It had been a momentous pause ; each realized 
 it, and each knew that the other realized it. 
 
 There was silence for a moment; then she 
 replied to what he had said.
 
 FELICIA. 53 
 
 " Human nature may be human nature," she 
 admitted, " but all people are not human. I 
 know a terrier who has a tailor, an excellent 
 one, and eye-glasses, and a mustache. Did 
 you never see a woman like a bird, hopping and 
 perching about, and surprising you every time 
 she handles a fan or a parasol because her fingers 
 are not claws? Why, a moment ago a man 
 passed here whose fat little eyes were exactly like 
 a pig's. Oh, no, some human beings are not 
 exactly human, I 'm sure of that." 
 
 "I had no idea you were such a cynic," he 
 said, looking at her with a half laugh. It was 
 the glance and laugh of an old friend. 
 
 She was disposed for a moment to resent this, 
 to consider it a liberty that there should be so 
 distinct an undercurrent of sympathy, already 
 glimpsed, or rather felt, through the crust of for- 
 mality which characterized their short acquaint- 
 ance. She arrogated to herself the privilege of 
 any lapse from convention. As she glanced at 
 him in uncertainty, she met his fine, calm eye ; 
 it had so evident a reliance on a reciprocity of 
 feelings, whatever they might be, so simple and 
 candid an enjoyment of the moment, that she 
 was disarmed. 
 
 " A little cynicism is not a bad thing," he sug- 
 gested ; " it prevents one from wearing one's 
 heart on one's sleeve." 
 
 " If one has a heart," she returned, with a little 
 laugh.
 
 54 FE-LICIA. 
 
 " I am afraid we are all provided with that dis- 
 comfort. Even the rabble, who have such bad 
 manners." 
 
 " Bad manners are wicked," said Felicia, with 
 that willful air which cousin Robert could never 
 resist, and which Hugh Kennett also seemed to 
 approve. 
 
 " In these cities that have such a rapid growth, 
 other matters take precedence," he remarked. 
 " Many people make money too fast here to care 
 much about manners." 
 
 " Manners are more important than money," 
 quoth the pupil of Madame Sevier. 
 
 He laughed at this. 
 
 " Just as the people about us are more impor- 
 tant than the things about us," she persisted. 
 
 " I should never have thought you would feel 
 that," he said, suddenly serious. " I supposed 
 environment meant a great deal to you." 
 
 He spoke with evident interest ; he looked at 
 her expectantly as to what she might reply. He 
 seemed determined to make the conversation very 
 personal. This time she did not relent. 
 
 "I was speaking merely abstractly," she de- 
 clared, indifferently, turning her eyes with a 
 casual glance upon the scintillating surface of the 
 lake, already enriched with gleams of gold and 
 lines of crimson beneath the red and gilded bril- 
 liance deepening athwart the soft azure sky. 
 
 He was slightly taken aback for a moment. 
 "Ah, well," he said, "an abstract truth merges
 
 FELICIA. 55 
 
 itself sooner or later into a personal application. 
 In my case, I admit environment means very little. 
 A few close friends, an object in life, good health, 
 and a quiet conscience, that is a world a man 
 can carry about with him as a snail carries its 
 world." 
 
 " A man can do that," said Felicia. 
 
 " And a woman cannot ? Why not ? " 
 
 " For several reasons. We have no close 
 friends ; we can't go into the world and select 
 those that suit us. And we have no object in 
 life, no definite object, I mean. And health, 
 you mentioned health, did n't you ? if we 
 have health our occupation is gone ; we can't cod- 
 dle ourselves. As to conscience," she laughed 
 gleefully, "we have n't that, either! " 
 
 Kennett laughed, too. " I am well aware of 
 that fact," he replied ; " I discovered long ago 
 that you have no consciences." 
 
 She looked very arch and pretty at this mo- 
 ment : her eyes were bright ; her parted scarlet 
 lips showed her milk-white teeth ; she had flushed 
 a little. Her toilette, always so felicitously de- 
 vised as to convey the impression that it was the 
 most becoming she had yet worn, was noticeably 
 simple ; to-day she seemed to owe nothing to the 
 embellishments of art. Her white dress was very 
 fine in texture and very plainly fashioned ; long 
 black kid gloves, that fitted conscientiously, so to 
 speak, gave her little hands additional daintiness ; 
 a straw hat demurely shaded her delicately tinted,
 
 56 FELICIA. 
 
 brilliant face : she might have stepped from the 
 frame of some old picture, but for the anachro- 
 nism of a very modern lace-covered parasol with a 
 long amber handle, which she revolved upon her 
 shoulder as she talked. He was a man whom no 
 detail escaped. He noticed, when she raised her 
 eyes, that the iris was a veritable purple ; that 
 the whites were clear and tinged with blue ; that 
 the gold-tipped brown lashes were long and curled 
 upward. 
 
 The wind stirred the leaves ; the water of the 
 fountain, falling, falling, in the midst of the 
 rippling lake, was monotonously agreeable. The 
 closely clipped turf was vividly green with the 
 welcome brilliance of the season : striking athwart 
 the emerald expanse was a wide bar of yellow 
 sunshine, and as a trio of young girls in light 
 dresses passed through the gilded radiance, the 
 red feather which one of them wore in her hat 
 had a suddenly splendid effect, it was a mo- 
 ment for enchantments. The trill of a lettuce 
 bird vibrated on the air ; the swans floated, and 
 paused, and floated again, their snowy plumage 
 gleaming in the sun. 
 
 " Do you read a great deal ? " asked Mr. Ken- 
 nett, glancing at the volume open on her knee. 
 
 " Very little." 
 
 "You don't care for reading?" he pursued, 
 with the accent of surprise. 
 
 " Very much. And that is why I rarely in- 
 dulge myself."
 
 FELICIA. 57 
 
 Again he looked at her, with that smile which, 
 beneath its geniality, was charged with a more 
 definite sympathetic quality. 
 
 " What unexpected material for martyrdom ! " 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 " I am not so heroic," she returned, with a 
 laugh. " It seems to me I have no time to 
 read." 
 
 " I had an idea to be sure, I may be mistaken 
 but I had an idea that people like you have 
 all the time." 
 
 She explained. " Once I read a great deal, 
 long ago, when I was young ; and it became im- 
 pressed upon me that I had no time to spend 
 upon any books but text-books. One who intends 
 to live has no time to read." 
 
 He gave this a moment of cogitation. " I can- 
 not say I am quite ready to accept that doctrine," 
 he declared. 
 
 " If you read, you take the views of the writers ; 
 you think their thoughts ; you live a life made 
 up of their theories mixed with your own circum- 
 stances'. It is all incoherent." 
 
 " You want to conserve originality, I see," he 
 remarked. 
 
 " Cousin Robert says Amy and I never look at 
 a newspaper because we are afraid of learning 
 something about politics," she said, with her sud- 
 den laughter. " And he is right, we detest 
 politics." 
 
 "Robert does not show his usual acumen in
 
 58 FELICIA. 
 
 attributing the same views to you and his wife. 
 You are not at all like your cousin." 
 
 " I don't know that you are at all like your 
 cousin," remai-ked Felicia. 
 
 " We used to be considered alike," he re- 
 turned, " not so much in appearance, perhaps, 
 as in temperament and character. The influences 
 have been so different of late years that we may 
 have drifted apart." 
 
 Certainly the talk had become very personal, 
 but she said to herself that, under the circum- 
 stances, it was hardly matter for surprise. 
 
 " You have known him always, then ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Always. In fact, he was from his early child- 
 hood a member of my father's family, until he 
 took that well, excuse me that freak to make 
 a clergyman of himself. I must say I regret his 
 choosing the ministry. You see, I am not much 
 of a churchman," he added, deprecatingly, as her 
 face grew grave. 
 
 Among the privileges she arrogated to herself 
 was that of any depreciation of religious matters, 
 and she was severe in condemnation of similar 
 dereliction in others. He saw that he was in 
 deep water, but was not sufficiently adroit to 
 know exactly how to emerge. 
 
 " I think it does not altogether suit Robert to 
 be a clergyman," he went on, uncertainly. 
 
 " He is a very valuable and useful one," she 
 said, stiffly.
 
 FELICIA. 69 
 
 " Oh, no doubt," he rejoined, humbly. 
 
 "And very eloquent," continued Felicia. 
 
 " He has a great advantage in his voice and 
 his fine elocution. He owes much of that to my 
 father." 
 
 She was interested, remembering what Mrs. 
 Stanley - Brant had said about Mr. Kennett's 
 father. Was he too a clergyman ? she wondered. 
 
 " My father was very fond of Robert," contin- 
 ued Kennett, " and looked after his education 
 with great attention ; but he did that for all of us, 
 my sisters and I received our most valuable 
 training from him. He had untiring patience 
 and gentleness, and the most complete sympathy. 
 Only those who knew him well could realize how 
 fully he could enter into the ineffectual little 
 efforts of others." 
 
 He spoke very simply and naturally, always 
 with that candid confidence in her sympathy, as 
 if to an old friend. His quiet gray eyes were 
 fixed absently on the party-colored flower-beds 
 that in the distance suggested huge bouquets ; his 
 face held an expression not so much of grief as of 
 remembrance from which the bitterness of sorrow 
 has been refined away, a sort of calm and ten- 
 der reflectiveness. Felicia divined that in the 
 years that had passed the dead had come at last 
 to seem only gone from sight and hearing, and 
 not cruelly and incomprehensibly swept out of ex- 
 istence. She did not know exactly what to say ; 
 it was strange to be thus taken into the confidence
 
 60 FELICIA. 
 
 of a man who was three hours ago so far removed 
 from her by all those strong conventions which 
 she felt were so important ; yet his evident uncon- 
 sciousness of anything unusual in his words made 
 them seem more a matter of course. 
 
 " He thinks cousin Robert has talked of him 
 and of his father also," was her conclusion. - 
 
 The Western sky was crimson now ; the surface 
 of the lake was richly aglow. The red gold of 
 the sunset was sifting through the air. The shad- 
 ows were growing long. The breeze freshened. 
 Suddenly the distant peal of the Angelus that 
 apotheosis of eventide effects rang out, caught 
 and tossed from side to side, as many a church 
 and chapel repeated the mellow clang. 
 
 Adown the leafy vista of the road Fred and 
 several of his friends might be seen advancing 
 on foot, apparently engaged in some commercial 
 transaction. One of them was holding out tempt- 
 ingly a big pocket-knife, which Fred evidently 
 declined to receive ; he had two strips of leather 
 in his hand ; their voices were loud in argument. 
 
 Felicia rose, and joined her nephew. Kennett 
 assisted her into the phaeton. As Fred drove off, 
 she bowed in adieu to her new acquaintance, and 
 she was again impressed by the formality, even 
 the ceremoniousness, of his salutation, and its 
 singular contrast with his extreme frankness.
 
 IV. 
 
 IN her leisure moments, of which she enjoyed 
 some superfluity, Felicia meditated much on the 
 unexpected interview in the Park, and in the 
 course of the next week she evolved the idea that 
 it would be desirable to draw out cousin Robert 
 on the subject of the Kennetts, father and son. 
 This astute design was frustrated. Hearing no- 
 thing from him or his wife, she undertook a pil- 
 grimage to the Rectory. The fat old dog on the 
 veranda gave a gentle wheeze of recognition and 
 a tap or two with his tail. As the bell clamored 
 through the house, it had an indefinably hollow 
 sound, and the maid appeared promptly at the 
 door. 
 
 " I 'm thankful to see you, Miss Felicia ! " she 
 exclaimed. " I 'm too lunsome to live, with no- 
 body to speak to but the old dog. You did n't 
 know Mrs. Raymond was gone, yet alreatty ? 
 Oh, yes 'in, since Chewsday. She 'd a telegram 
 that her uncle Lucian is sick up in the country at 
 his house, where her maw is visitin' him. An' 
 her maw is worn out nursin' him. So Mrs. Ray- 
 mond left right away alreatty. An' yesterday, 
 Mr. Raymond got another gentleman to take the 
 church next Sunday, an' went himselluf. They
 
 62 FELICIA. 
 
 never wrote to you, ain't it ? Mebbe they forgot 
 it ; they was so confused in their minds." 
 
 She looked at Felicia benignly from beneath 
 her fluffy flaxen bangs, that innocently exagger- 
 ated the fashion, and almost obscured her blue 
 eyes. 
 
 " Ach how be-eu-ti-ful yez are the day ! " she 
 cried, rapturously. From the Irish cook at her 
 last place she had secured certain choice idioms, 
 which she had engrafted upon her German dialect 
 with a unique effect that appealed delightfully to 
 Felicia's sense of humor. 
 
 Our young lady returned home in puzzled cogi- 
 tation. She realized that it was possible for 
 Hugh Kennett to make rapid strides in forming 
 acquaintance ; in a few more such interviews as 
 their last meeting, similar progress would place 
 him on a footing of close friendship. She desired 
 much to know who he was, what was his place in 
 life, what were his surroundings, his associations, 
 not so much because of any distinct interest in 
 him as from the wish to relinquish no element of 
 entertainment, and yet to conform to that Mede 
 and Persian law which she had prescribed for her 
 own guidance in such matters. 
 
 Shortly after this episode, the young architect, 
 who had been a conspicuous guest on the occasion 
 of the " evening," called at her brother's house. 
 Mrs. Hamilton, actuated by the unwritten but 
 stringent law which, in her own girlhood days, in 
 Jier village home, conceded the unmarried guest
 
 FELICIA. 63 
 
 to the entertainment of the young lady of the 
 family, conscientiously conjured up a headache, 
 and Felicia received the visitor alone. There was 
 nothing particularly upacceptable in this young 
 man, whose name was Grafton. He was a little 
 didactic, and not a little conceited ; but he was a 
 gentleman ; he had fair abilities, and had enjoyed 
 good opportunities of cultivating them. His mis- 
 take was the not unusual mistake of intolerance. 
 His misfortune was that he did not possess what 
 might be called a sense of divination. He could 
 not vicariously experience emotions, apprehend a 
 train of unexpressed thought, or intuitively attri- 
 bute the correct intention to a phraseology capa- 
 ble of more than one interpretation. Felicia also 
 was intolerant ; and, although she had plenty of 
 imagination, her stock of patience was scanty. 
 She thought it possible that she could construe 
 Mr. Grafton's deeper nature if she should give 
 herself to the effort, but she did not deem it worth 
 the trouble ; she preferred to translate him through 
 the surface medium of manner and the casual chat 
 of the evening. He seemed to her very unrespon- 
 sive, self-absorbed, prone to misunderstandings, 
 and almost morbidly appreciative of platitudes. 
 An older woman, of equal mental qualities, or a 
 coquette, might have found entertainment in 
 drawing him out as an exponent of his class, or as 
 a possible victim. Felicia had little interest in 
 types of this sort, and was too proud or, it may 
 be, too vain to be definitely and of set purpose
 
 64 FELICIA. 
 
 a coquette. It must be confessed, however, that, 
 although she would not attempt Alfred Grafton's 
 scalp to wear as a trophy, she did not fail to 
 sharpen the knife, in other words, she deemed 
 it incumbent upon her to make his call agreeable ; 
 this obligation, according to her code, she owed to 
 herself. He could not, in reason, find fault with 
 her graceful cordiality. At first, he was inclined 
 unreasonably to object to it as insincere. Later, 
 his self-love came to the rescue, and he wondered 
 if this suavity might not be susceptible of a dif- 
 ferent explanation. Many a man of twenty-four 
 would have thawed under the geniality of this 
 suspicion ; but Grafton's nature was one of those 
 which, accepting the most flattering concessions as 
 tribute, do this with a certain grudging, a certain 
 objection, as if on guard against being surprised 
 into benignity, cajoled, got the better of, in some 
 inscrutable way. It is impossible to say what Fe- 
 licia would have thought, could she have divined 
 how egregiously he mistook her smile over her 
 big, pretty, gently swaying fan, her gracious eyes, 
 her vivacity, her affability, that he fancied she 
 was trying to fascinate him. What she did think 
 was something like this : " It is a pity he is such 
 a stick. He is rather good-looking : his eyes are 
 set too far back, but they are hazel and well cut ; 
 his face is somewhat narrow. Still, he looks re- 
 fined and intelligent, and as if he ought not to be 
 so terrifically tiresome." 
 
 They talked a little of the weather, and Felicia 
 inveighed against the dust.
 
 FELICIA. 65 
 
 " It gives one a taste of martyrdom," she de- 
 clared. " St. Simeon Sisanites of Syria need n't 
 have gone on the top of a column in order to be 
 wretched enough to found a sect of Stylites, if 
 he had lived here. And those watering-carts are 
 only an aggravation. One expects so much of 
 them and gets so little." 
 
 " I think the street-watering system is perhaps 
 as good here as elsewhere," he replied, looking 
 at her with that expression by which a capable 
 adept can thoroughly chill a conversation without 
 being tangibly rude. 
 
 She wondered if she had said anything particu- 
 larly objectionable ; if he had any interest in the 
 matter, a contract, for instance, to supply the 
 lumbering carts to the city, or the horses. She 
 remembered that he was an architect ; for all she 
 knew, the city gave such contracts to architects. 
 Cousin Robert might have mentioned other things 
 she was afraid of learning, besides politics. 
 
 It was with a distinct intention of recompensing 
 a possible slight that she smiled upon him now ; 
 under, these circumstances her smile was very 
 sweet. 
 
 " At any rate, this place has many attractions," 
 she said, " notwithstanding the dust. The parks 
 are lovely, and the public bxiildings are so inter- 
 esting. I suppose the architecture is very fine," 
 she added, vaguely. 
 
 " The architecture is very bad," he declared, 
 unexpectedly, " atrociously bad."
 
 66 FELICIA. 
 
 She raised her eyebrows. " Indeed ? I had 
 fancied the reverse the case. But I confess I 
 know nothing about architecture. A young lady 
 is lucky in not being expected to take, as Lord 
 Bacon did, all knowledge for her province." 
 
 " Is not her education expected to teach her 
 something about everything?" he asked; and with 
 him a question could be as didactic as an axiom. 
 
 " Oh-h-h but if it does that, she will be a 
 bas bleu ! " Felicia cried, making her eyes large, 
 and intimating that this was a dreadful thing. 
 
 " I feel assured," he persisted, seriously, " that 
 it is a woman's duty and privilege to be thor- 
 oughly well informed." 
 
 Her eyes resumed their normal dimensions, 
 and into them came a slight expression of weari- 
 ness. It seemed to her that it would be difficult 
 to conjure what she called esprit into this conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " I am one of those who hold that sex should 
 be no disqualification in education," he continued. 
 " I maintain that women should share higher 
 education equally with men." 
 
 " I should think women would find it rather 
 ennuyant" said Felicia, with a smile. 
 
 " Why do you use foreign words ? " he asked. 
 He seemed sensible that she might object to this, 
 for he went on, with some suggestion of the man- 
 ner of conciliation, " I think we have English 
 words that express that idea." 
 
 " Oh, I will talk English, if you prefer, or
 
 FELICIA. 67 
 
 American, even ! " exclaimed Felicia, with her 
 light laughter, which was now a trifle forced. 
 
 The next hour was, perhaps, the most laborious 
 she had ever known ; it was not only the fact of 
 uncongeniality, it was the necessity to grace- 
 fully concede. She found it desirable to main- 
 tain a proposition to a certain point, and then re- 
 linquish it scientifically, not too suddenly, 
 with the judicious amount of argument necessary 
 to keep up the similitude of interest. This is ex- 
 hausting intellectual exercise, and also a trial to 
 the temper. She wondered why he did not go. 
 The truth was, the reason their talk tired her was 
 the reason it interested him ; then, that flattering 
 suspicion afforded a certain agreeable titillation, 
 notwithstanding his stern determination not to be 
 subtly overreached. He did not grow genial, but 
 he was satisfied. He was having what she would 
 have called a good time. 
 
 It was abruptly terminated. There came by 
 degrees the roll of rapidly advancing wheels. All 
 at once they stopped in front of the house. There 
 was a sound of quick, light steps, the bell was 
 rung, and, when the front door was opened, a 
 voice, asking for Miss Hamilton, invaded the si- 
 lence of the hall. 
 
 Grafton noticed that, at the first tone of the 
 voice, Felicia turned her head ; her color deep- 
 ened ; her expression was expectant. In another 
 moment a gentleman appeared on the threshold. 
 For a second he stood motionless, as he glanced
 
 68 FELICIA. 
 
 about him ; then his eye fell on the young lady, 
 who had risen, smiling. He darted toward her, 
 tucking, with incredible deftness and quickness, 
 his crush hat under his arm, and holding out both 
 hands. 
 
 " My dear f-r-r-iend," he cried, joyously, " how 
 enchanted I am to see you ! " 
 
 He was so swift, so vivacious, so unexpected, so 
 foreign, that his entrance was as incongruous as 
 if he were a flash of lightning ; and a veritable 
 flash of lightning could hardly have demolished 
 more abruptly Mr. Grafton's measured enjoyment 
 of the evening and his flattering little theory of 
 the young lady's favor. Was it like this, he won- 
 dered, that she looked at the man she loved ? 
 Her eyes, how lucent they were, how dark with 
 feeling ; how smilingly her beautiful lips had 
 curved ; what welcome her face expressed ! He 
 looked and his neutral glance had at length 
 become tinged with a distinct sentiment at the 
 visitor. He saw a man of thirty-six or seven ; 
 rather under medium height, in full dress, with 
 auburn hair and mustache, fair complexion, deli- 
 cately cut features, brilliant blue eyes, a vivacious 
 expression, and an alert and graceful figure. He 
 acknowledged the introduction to Mr. Graf ton 
 with a suavity which was at once curiously em- 
 presse and perfunctory ; then he dropped on a 
 sofa beside Felicia. 
 
 " And how did I discover you were here, eh ? 
 The merest accident, ten minutes since, or I should
 
 FELICIA. 6P 
 
 not have dared to call at this unconscionable hour, 
 Met your brother at the opera went out after 
 the second act to take a a smoke saw Mr. 
 Hamilton in the crowd caught him asked 
 news of you ' My dear fellow, don't you know 
 she is at my house ? ' He vivaciously mimicked 
 John Hamilton's voice and manner, and Felicia 
 burst into a peal of silvery laughter. " So I 
 asked the number of his house called a car- 
 riage ' Drive as if the furies were after you ! ' 
 and me void, eh ? " 
 
 He gave a great wave of his hand to intimate 
 the rapidity of the transition. He used many 
 gestures. He was hardly still a moment ; he 
 shrugged his shoulders ; he threw up his eye- 
 brows ; a turn of his flexible wrist would fill out 
 a sentence ; he glanced swiftly about the room, 
 apparently taking in everything instantaneously, 
 but casually. The expression of his eyes, coming 
 back to the young lady's face, and that recurrent 
 " eh ? " intimated a friendship that made the im- 
 passive Mr. Grafton, looking coldly on from his 
 armchair, set his teeth together with an unwonted 
 intensity of emotion. 
 
 He gathered that the stranger was a brother of 
 a school friend of Miss Hamilton's, on a flying 
 business trip through the West. " And a most 
 annoying, disagreeable journey I have had, but 
 for the lucky accident of meeting you. I assure 
 you I am fully recompensed now. And there 's 
 no chance of your going back to Madame Sevier,
 
 70 FELICIA. 
 
 eh ? Ah-h-h, she is afflicted to give you up ! ' Lu- 
 cille,' she said to my sister, the day before I left, 
 ' the place can never be the same without my 
 dear FeliciteV Ah-h, with tears ! I assure you 
 she wept. And you like the West, eh ? I thought 
 not," triumphantly. Then he turned to make an 
 amende to the Westerner, who, stiffly erect, sat 
 regarding him as if he were an escaped wild beast, 
 not dangerous, but very objectionable. " You 
 have a wonderful country, Mr. er Grafton. 
 Progress, enterprise, all that, the future of the 
 nation, all that. But we don't want to relinquish 
 everything to you ; we must keep the approval of 
 our own young ladies ; we must n't be too gener- 
 ous. And when," he continued, again addressing 
 Felicia with his sudden swiftness, " are you com- 
 ing to see Lucille ? A visit, a little visit, eh, 
 you won't deny us that? She will be enchanted 
 that I met you." 
 
 Grafton thought Mr. Adolphe Devaux the most 
 odious, insufferable, vain, shallow popinjay he 
 had ever beheld. Mr. Devaux commiserated 
 Felicia's hard fate that she was compelled to play 
 the agreeable to a conceited prig like that. Each 
 attempted to outstay the other, and Grafton suc- 
 ceeded, for train-time is inexorable. The French- 
 man, suddenly bethinking himself of the hour, 
 vehemently apologized for looking at his watch ; 
 despairingly tossed up his eyebrows and his 
 shoulders at the result ; explained comprehen- 
 sively that he must get back to the hotel, change
 
 FELICIA. 71 
 
 his dress, pack his traps, swallow some supper, 
 and reach the train in half an hour from this 
 present speaking ; and tore himself away, after 
 adieux which, although rapid, somehow expressed 
 and embodied a vast deal of the genius of leave- 
 taking. There were many messages given him to 
 Lucille ; and when Miss Hamilton reached Ma- 
 dame Sevier's turn, her voice suddenly faltered, 
 the color flared up in her cheeks, her violet eyes 
 grew dewy, the hand she had given him trembled 
 in his clasp. 
 
 " Ah-h ! " he cried, " how glad Madame Sevier 
 will be that you remember her so kindly ! She 
 was afraid you would forget her. No fear of 
 that, eh? Adieu, adieu. Good-evening, Mr. 
 Grafton. So happy to have met you." 
 
 When Felicia's remaining caller had also taken 
 leave, she repaired to her own room, where she 
 found her sister-in-law, her round, rosy face 
 beaming with pleasure, awaiting her. This lady, 
 shortly after her graduation from the Young 
 Ladies' Select Institute of her native village, had 
 married John Hamilton, in the chrysalis stage of 
 his career. His semi-rural home, his respectably 
 large provincial business, his juvenile family, and 
 her share in all these phases of life seemed to her 
 to afford full measure of interest, until the wider 
 pageant of cosmopolitan possibilities was pre- 
 sented by their removal to Chilounatti. Now her 
 ideas were rapidly expanding. Her imagination 
 had compassed ambitions, pleasures, pursuits, half
 
 72 FELICIA. 
 
 realized heretofore. She developed an interest in 
 the matter of entertainments ; she carefully read 
 the fashion articles in the papers and the society 
 columns ; she collated scraps of information as to 
 the appropriate menus for ladies' luncheons and 
 afternoon teas, for dinners and evening parties. 
 On these subjects she obtruded none of her newly 
 acquired wisdom, but listened and observed with 
 great intentness, and held herself always in read- 
 iness to amend her code. She was becoming fa- 
 miliar with minutia} of household management 
 under altered conditions, and had bloomed into a 
 modest splendor of dress on great occasions. 
 Among other phases of this new life upon which 
 she was entering with such zest, Felicia's enjoy- 
 ments and prospects offered a suggestive theme 
 for congratulatory contemplation. How gay and 
 eventful existence must be to her! She was 
 never a whole day without some agreeable epi- 
 sode, although the " season " was virtually over. 
 Last week, the theatre twice, and the Melville 
 reception ; and last Friday the " evening ; " and 
 several trips down-town this week; and to-night 
 two delightful callers ; and " Oh, Felicia," she 
 cried, as the girl entered the room, " who was he ? 
 the last one, I mean. I know Alfred Grafton 
 came first. Oh, how delighted he seemed to see 
 you ! Is he nice ? Is he handsome ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, he is a dear little man," replied Feli- 
 cia, as she removed her earrings and carefully 
 bestowed her big fan in its box, "a dear, dear 
 little man."
 
 FELICIA. 73 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton's face fell. This did not seem 
 exactly on the plane of the status she had con- 
 jured up. 
 
 " And is he very devoted ? Is he in love with 
 you, too ? " she asked. 
 
 Felicia stared at her. " Adolphe Devaux ! " 
 she exclaimed. " Why, he 's been married ten 
 years, at least." 
 
 " Oh-h-h ! " said Mrs. Hamilton, disappointed. 
 
 And here was John Hamilton, pretty tired, a 
 little out of humor, and, as he expressed it, fran- 
 tic to go to sleep. 
 
 " I suppose, Felicia, you saw that howling swell 
 Devaux ? Kushed at me as if he were crazy. It 
 takes a foreigner to make a fool of himself. 
 Everybody looked at me. I felt like braining 
 him. The opera? Was it good? /don't know. 
 Everybody said so. I did n't pay much attention. 
 Gale asked me to meet some fellows friends of 
 his from Minnesota at dinner at the club, and 
 nothing would satisfy him but the opera after- 
 ward." 
 
 As he tramped out of the room, his step sounded 
 as if he were indeed very sleepy. 
 
 To-night Felicia took stock, in a manner. So 
 much time, such elements for filling it. She 
 said to herself that she was, perhaps, abnormally 
 dependent on the personality of those about her : 
 their natures were her bane or her blessing ; their 
 manners could afflict or delight her. The expres- 
 sion of kindly feeling or the divination of ap-
 
 74 FELICIA. 
 
 proval was like the breath of her life, was like 
 the sunshine to a plant. She said she had no 
 idea how much she valued cordiality until Adolphe 
 Devaux, whom she had esteemed slightly enough 
 heretofore, was contrasted with Mr. Graf ton. 
 And, as she considered these matters, she said to 
 herself, with a certain satisfaction, that she had 
 shown good judgment in not rejecting the ac- 
 quaintance of Hugh Kennett, who had manifested 
 some capacity to understand her ; whose ideas 
 were congenial with hers ; who had intellectual 
 qualities she could respect, and manners she could 
 approve. She admitted to herself that she was 
 pleased that she had met him, and would be 
 pleased to meet him again. Thus Alfred Graf- 
 ton's call had the perfectly illogical result of 
 strengthening Hugh Kennett's claim upon Miss 
 Hamilton's acquaintance. 
 
 However the routine of the Hamilton house- 
 hold might be interrupted, there was one weekly 
 festival that came with unimpaired regularity, 
 Fred's holiday on Saturdays ; and he was very 
 rigorous in exacting all the rights and privileges 
 which he deemed appropriate to the recurrent 
 occasion. Since Felicia, in an unguarded moment, 
 had promised to drive with him on those after- 
 noons, he had held her to the compact with ex- 
 treme pertinacity, and apparently took as much 
 pride in the fact of the regularity of these drives 
 as if he withstood some strong temptation to 
 forego them. The slight cloud which had ob-
 
 FELICIA. 75 
 
 scured the geniality of the last excursion cleared 
 away during the week, and on the following Sat- 
 urday they rolled off in high spirits and complete 
 amity. 
 
 They found this drive the most agreeable they 
 had yet had. Fred detailed many of his plans, 
 and described his friends and his enemies 
 incoherently. Felicia told him, with point and 
 vivacity, several stories, in which he came out, 
 unexpectedly, the hero of escapades which had 
 considerately slipped from his memory. She mim- 
 icked him in the dismay or agitation of these de- 
 nouements with such genial humor that he laughed 
 uproariously at the figure lie presented to his own 
 imagination. Her eyes sparkled ; the dimples did 
 not leave her cheeks. 
 
 " You 're a bully girl ! " declared Fred, in high 
 good humor. " You 're always jolly." 
 
 The consciousness of her various mental ex- 
 ercitations regarding Mr. Kennett had a certain 
 disagreeable effect on which she had not counted. 
 As she saw him advancing along one of the pic- 
 turesque footpaths of the Park which intersected 
 the principal drives, she became aware that she 
 was coloring violently. This startled and dis- 
 concerted her, and she did not realize that a crisis 
 of another sort impended until it was imminent. 
 
 It chanced that Fred, who insisted on driving, 
 to her exclusion, also recognized Kennett. He 
 had not shown any especial enthusiasm in claim- 
 ing the acquaintance on, the previous Saturday,
 
 76 FELICIA. 
 
 but now, with the inconsequence of the small boy, 
 he saluted the pedestrian with a loud, eager ac- 
 claim, signaled him to stop, pulled the horse 
 sharply across the road, and drew up at its 
 margin. This manoeuvre was so sudden that the 
 driver of a great watering-cart, which was just 
 behind the phaeton, taken entirely by surprise, 
 went through a wild contortion in his effort to 
 keep his team from running down the slight 
 vehicle. His struggles seemed for a moment 
 about to be crowned with success, as he, too, 
 turned his horses into the middle of the road ; 
 but his utmost skill did not avail to prevent the 
 wheels of the big, burly cart from sharply collid- 
 ing with the wheels of the phaeton. There was a 
 sudden crash, a grinding, splintering sound, and 
 an abrupt shock. Henry Clay, disapproving of 
 the noise and the jai', plunged violently, and 
 would have bolted but for the restraining hand 
 of a gardener who was fortunately passing, with 
 his barrow and tools, at the moment. Keunett 
 hastened his steps into a run, and helped Felicia 
 from the phaeton ; and she stood looking rue- 
 fully at the broken wheel, as Fred and the driver 
 of the watering-cart also descended from their re- 
 spective perches and surveyed the damage. Each 
 of the Jehus indulged in wild criminations, which, 
 after a time, evolved themselves into a participa- 
 tion in the pending discussion as to what was to 
 be done for the broken vehicle, in this emer- 
 gency.
 
 FELICIA. 77 
 
 " I '11 tell ye what it is, miss," said the gardener 
 in an evil moment. " There 's a blacksmith shop 
 about two blocks from the north entrance. Why 
 can't the little bye jist get on the horse, an' ride 
 over there an' tell 'in to send here for the phaeton 
 ter mend it ? I can't leave here, or I 'd go me- 
 self ! " 
 
 Fred accepted this suggestion with enthusiasm. 
 Felicia remonstrated on the score of safety. 
 
 " Can't ride Henry Clay ! " sneered Fred, in- 
 dignantly, as he hurriedly unhitched the traces. 
 " Why can't I, I 'd like ter know ? Harness ! 
 what 's harness got ter do with it ? I '11 show 
 you I can ride him, if he has got his harness on 
 him ! " He led the horse out of the shafts. 
 
 Kennett, too, remonstrated, infusing as much 
 authority as he might into his manner. Fred 
 looked at him in surly surprise, and for reply 
 scrambled upon the horse's back with great ex- 
 pedition and agility. The gardener, realizing his 
 mistake, glanced, crestfallen, from one to the 
 other. Felicia fired her last shot with all the skill 
 die possessed. 
 
 " Oh, Fred, do you think it is right," she cried, 
 " to leave me to go home without you ? I shall 
 have to walk to the street - cars alone, three 
 miles, at least." 
 
 Fred hesitated. His sense of his own importance 
 was very great, especially his idea of his impor- 
 tance to Felicia. This appeal for herself touched 
 him on his strong suit. But the counter temptation
 
 78 FELICIA. 
 
 was also strong. He thought that it was some- 
 thing of a feat for him to ride Henry Clay, and 
 he knew it would not be permitted by his parents 
 unless his father were one of the party. Then 
 he prefigured the scene of interest and excitement 
 that would ensue at the shop when he should 
 gallop up on the harnessed horse, with the news 
 of the damaged vehicle. It is to be feared that 
 it was his unexpressed intention to figure as the 
 hero of a sensational story. Under the stress of 
 opposing influences, Fred attempted, as wiser 
 people do in emergencies, to evolve a compromise. 
 He looked over his shoulder at her with serious 
 eyes. "You jus' walk ter where the street -cars 
 start from," he said, imperatively. " There 's 
 plank sidewalks part of the way. You get in the 
 car an' wait, an' I '11 be along jus' as soon as I 
 tell them men ter come after this phaeton." 
 
 As if afraid of more remonstrances, he " gave 
 his noble steed the rein," and went off at a gallop 
 and with a wild halloo. 
 
 Nothing short of an earthquake could have 
 more thoroughly disconcerted Felicia. The an- 
 noyance of being stranded here in the Park was 
 greatly aggravated by the prospect of a walk of 
 three miles, at least, through a region unfamiliar 
 to her. Her swift speculation as to the impro- 
 bability of procuring a carriage in any reasonable 
 time was interrupted by Kennett's voice. He ap- 
 parently shared none of her anxiety. He turned 
 to her with a smile. For a moment she almost
 
 FELICIA. 79 
 
 resented his expression ; it held a sort of friendly 
 reliance, seeming to say in effect, " I am very glad 
 to arrange this for you, and I have no doubt you 
 will be glad to let me arrange it." 
 
 " It is fortunate that I came down from town 
 on the river," he declared. "I can save you a 
 dusty walk. The boat-house is just outside the 
 gate, and if you have quite recovered from the 
 shock we will go over and get the boat. I can 
 row you up to the street-car terminus by the time 
 Fred reaches there." 
 
 She hesitated. She had found it necessary to 
 amend her theories as to les convenances very 
 radically, in view of the difference between Ma- 
 dame Sevier's rule and the more lenient systems 
 prevalent outside those scholastic walls. She had 
 been greatly surprised and a trifle doubtful that 
 people we are aware that she did not consider 
 all the human race " people " - should permit 
 their young ladies to ride and walk alone with 
 gentlemen, but had realized that the custom of 
 the region makes the law in matters of etiquette. 
 This case, however, held certain other elements 
 of difficulty. She had a reluctance to be placed 
 under a distinct obligation, and an obligation to a 
 stranger. But was he a stranger ? Kobert's cou- 
 sin, closely connected by marriage with her cousin 
 Amy and with Mrs. Emily Stanley-Brant. And 
 what else could she do ? He glanced at her ex- 
 pectantly, with, she fancied, a trifle of surprise. 
 She had but a moment for cogitation. She rap-
 
 80 FELICIA. 
 
 idly decided that in a matter of the sort ultra- 
 fastidiousness is absurd ; that to refuse to row 
 with him, and then to plod with him three miles 
 on a dusty turnpike road, for he would insist 
 on seeing her safely to the cars, at least, would 
 make her ridiculous, and would be quite as un- 
 suitable as rowing on the river, if either were not 
 convendble, according to the Chilounatti code. 
 She conceded the point gracefully, putting up her 
 parasol, giving one last glance at the disabled 
 phaeton, and turning with Kennett toward the 
 south entrance. 
 
 As they walked on in the soft sunshine and the 
 alternating spaces of cool shadow, Felicia was 
 subacutely surprised that her annoyance should 
 diminish so swiftly. There was something singu- 
 larly restful about him : in the expression of his 
 contemplative eyes, now turning upon her as their 
 desultory talk progressed, now dwelling on the 
 green slopes or the fanciful flower-beds by the 
 roadside ; in the tones of his even voice ; in the 
 steadiness of his movements ; in his candid and 
 natural manner. His manner had, too, a cer- 
 tainty, a definite quality, which had the effect of 
 placing a sort of appropriateness on what he pro- 
 posed or did. It began to seem a simple and 
 suitable thing thus to stroll with him along these 
 verdure-bordered ways, through the golden after- 
 noon sunshine, toward the Park gates ; already in 
 sight they were, as well as the broad, low boat- 
 house beyond.
 
 FELICIA. 81 
 
 They mentioned the weather, the beauty of the 
 Park, Fred's singular idea of the duty of an es- 
 cort. 
 
 " Fred thinks I am a useless annoyance in 
 every expedition, like the sermon in a church 
 which. has a show choir," declared Felicia. 
 
 " By the way, you know that Robert and his 
 wife have left town ? " 
 
 " I discovered that fact only yesterday. "Will 
 they be long absent ? " 
 
 " Some weeks. He will take his vacation now, 
 while the church is under repair. I believe I 
 have his note with me." 
 
 He extracted several missives from his breast 
 pocket, selected one and handed it to her. 
 
 " Your cousin is more considerate than mine," 
 remarked Felicia, feeling aggrieved. " Amy has 
 not vouchsafed me a scrape of a pen." 
 
 The note was very short, very familiar, very 
 careless, very fraternal. The Reverend Robert 
 stated that he was just about to start for the 
 train. Amy left some days since. Mr. Lucian 
 Stanley quite ill. Could n't say when they would 
 return, the repairs in the church were more ex- 
 tensive than had been anticipated ; not for some 
 weeks, probably. Sorry not to see you again. 
 Good-by, and God bless you. 
 
 As she replaced the note in its envelope, Felicia 
 noticed that it was directed to one of the hotels. 
 
 "I had an idea you lived up -town," she re- 
 marked. Surely some slight personality might
 
 82 FELICIA. 
 
 be considered in order, since he was not only 
 cousin Robert's relative, but apparently his Da- 
 mon as well. 
 
 " No doubt you had that impression because I 
 pass the house so frequently. I am the most 
 methodical of men. I walk the same distance at 
 the same time every day. I have discovered that 
 serenity is necessary, if a man wishes to put in 
 his best licks, if you will excuse the expression, 
 to accomplish his highest possibilities. And 
 serenity is facilitated by long contemplative walks. 
 It is a good habit ; one has time to think. Living 
 in the midst of such a rush as I necessarily do, it 
 is well for a man to take a little time to think." 
 
 They had reached the confines of the Park, had 
 crossed the road, and were soon standing upon 
 the river-bank. Belts of blue, of orange, of pur- 
 ple, of a dazzling white, alternated upon the sur- 
 face of the water. It was ruffled into waves by 
 the breeze, bearing woodland odors from the 
 Park, and sparkled with myriads of prismatic 
 scintillations, as the sun, slowly tending westward, 
 shot athwart the stream. The boat, which had 
 been fastened to the pier, was rocking gently to 
 and fro. Kennett assisted Felicia to a seat, and 
 took the oars. With one long, smooth stroke the 
 little craft shot out far into mid-stream. 
 
 " How strong you are ! " cried Felicia. " I 
 should never have thought it ! " 
 
 The ease, the dexterity, the grace, delighted 
 her. She looked at Hugh Kennett with shining 
 eyes.
 
 FELICIA. 83 
 
 It may be suggested that no man, however well 
 balanced, who is capable of athletic achievement, 
 is ever insensible to such a tribute. This man 
 had his foibles and pet vanities well in hand, but 
 he certainly felt a momentary thrill, a glow of 
 ingenuous pleasure, a strong, subtle, delicately in- 
 toxicating elation. He flushed a little. 
 
 " I find it to my advantage to keep in training, 
 to a degree. It is a good point for me. Besides, 
 I am fond of all athletic pursuits." 
 
 " There is a class for ladies at the gymnasium," 
 remarked Felicia. 
 
 " I hardly think ladies need that sort of thing." 
 
 " /don't need it. I am very strong," declared 
 Felicia. " I have no doubt I could surprise you, 
 if I should condescend to row, as much as you 
 surprised me." 
 
 But when he rose and offered her the oars with 
 a great show of insistence, she laughed and crim- 
 soned, and leaned back in her place, eagerly de- 
 clining. 
 
 " It is not because I can't," she maintained, as 
 he resumed his seat. " I don't want to make you 
 uncomfortable by excelling you." 
 
 "Now, that is too kind," he retorted. 
 
 She had ceased to wonder that they knew each 
 other so well ; it had begun to seem that they had 
 been good friends always. Apparently he had 
 felt this from the first. She had no care what 
 she should say to him ; she knew he would be sat- 
 isfied with whatever she might say ; he would
 
 84 FELICIA. 
 
 share her mood, he would understand it. She 
 did not feel it necessary to agree with him ; she 
 felt at liberty to argue, even to contradict, if oc- 
 casion should offer. Occasion did not offer, how- 
 ever. The two natures were vibrant, and when 
 a chord was struck the response was instantaneous 
 and in tune. As the boat glided over the water, 
 sometimes, after a silence which was curiously 
 unconstrained, both would speak at once, and 
 would laugh to discover that they had shared the 
 thought which was uttered. 
 
 " The sky is like an Italian sky," she observed, 
 looking up at the delicately yet intensely blue 
 vault. 
 
 " I was just about to say that," he declared. 
 " All day the air has been so soft that I have 
 been reminded of days in Italy." 
 
 " I was abroad a very short time," remarked 
 Felicia. " I should like to go again."" 
 
 " You will, some day," he returned. 
 
 " Why do you say that ? " she demanded, with 
 a sort of pleased credulity. 
 
 "You are one of those lucky people who get 
 what they desire. Life is going to be very good 
 to you." 
 
 " It is delightful to think that," she said. Her 
 face, above the smoke-colored dress she wore, and 
 shaded by the long gray plumes of her hat, was 
 so radiant that he was again reminded of a star 
 in the rift of a summer cloud. 
 
 " It is your birthright," he added. " There is 
 eren a prophecy in your name."
 
 FELICIA. 85 
 
 " I hope it is a prophecy," she said, more 
 gravely. " I am afraid of unhappiness. But it 
 was my mother's name. She was very happy, 
 but she died young." 
 
 " You are the youngest child ? " he asked. He 
 was rowing slowly, his steady gray eyes fixed on 
 hers. The exercise had brought a glow to his 
 face ; his lips were slightly parted over the white 
 line of his teeth ; his attitude revealed the depth 
 of his chest ; through his light cloth coat the play 
 of his muscles was suggested ; the ease of his 
 movements gave token of covert strength. 
 
 "I was her only child. My brother John is 
 my half-brother." 
 
 " Oh," he said. Then after a pause, " I ima- 
 gined I don't know why that in your own 
 home you had a mother who was very fond of 
 you, who read all your letters many times, and 
 sent you pretty things to wear." He glanced at 
 her soft gray dress, accented here and there with 
 an indistinct shadowy pattern, which added to its 
 cloudy effect. 
 
 " You fancied that because you think I am 
 spoiled. Every one thinks I am spoiled." She 
 would not listen to his protest. " Oh, you can't 
 excuse yourself. You almost said it ; you implied 
 it. I never forget and I never forgive. I am 
 very vindictive. Beware ; Nemesis is on your 
 path ! " She broke into a peal of laughter. 
 
 It was pleasant to hear ; she was pleasant to 
 see, so young, so happy, so genuine, so freshly
 
 86 FELICIA. 
 
 and piquantly beautiful. Nature and art had 
 combined their forces very judiciously, he thought. 
 It was charming that she should be spontaneous, 
 even childish, ingenuous, and natural ; it was de- 
 lightfully incongruous that she should have that 
 finish of manner which comes only of elaborate 
 training. 
 
 When their mood was graver, they talked dis- 
 cursively of life, of character, of aims. Felicia 
 admitted that once she had been ambitious. That 
 was long ago, when she was very young. 
 
 " I pined to do something grand with my life. 
 I did not know exactly what I wanted ; to write 
 great books, or to paint great pictures, or even to 
 delve into science, like Mrs. Somerville or Caro- 
 line Herschel. I wanted to accomplish something 
 important. I knew it would require hard work, 
 but I believed I was capable of hard work." 
 
 " Well ? " said Hugh Kennett, expectantly, 
 looking at her with a smile. 
 
 " Well, papa thought that was all nonsense. 
 He said that if a woman has capacities she can 
 find ample scope for them in making herself gen- 
 erally cultivated, and that to be a charming wo- 
 man is as much a career as any other." 
 
 " I think he is right," said Kennett, heartily. 
 
 " Sometimes I doubt it," returned Felicia, pen- 
 sively. " How would you like it if there seemed 
 to be no real use for those things which you had 
 spent your life in acquiring ? " 
 
 " Well, not very much. However, there is this
 
 FELICIA. 87 
 
 difference : a woman may be learned or not, as 
 she pleases, if only she is charming ; but a man 
 must be one thing, or he is nothing." 
 
 " And that ? " 
 
 " Why, a success." 
 
 " Ah, you have had ambitions, that is evi- 
 dent," said Felicia. 
 
 He laughed as his eyes rested on the emerald 
 banks. " When I was young, a long time 
 ago," he said, repeating her phrase. " My ambi- 
 tions have been like the bag of gold said to be 
 buried at the foot of the rainbow, when I reach 
 the spot, it is just a little further on." 
 
 " That is because you have high ideals," said 
 Felicia, maturely. She sometimes spoke with 
 weight, as of years and experience, and he did not 
 resent her pretty patronage. " That is different 
 from not attaining, from failing. It would break 
 my heart to fail ; but pride is my besetting sin." 
 
 He would not admit that pride is a sin ; he 
 evolved a theory on the spot. 
 
 " Pride has the same relation," he submitted, 
 " to the moral nature that imagination has to the 
 intellectual ; they are the only qualities that soar." 
 
 As the boat glided over the glassy surface she 
 more than once pointed out some fleeting effect of 
 the scene that escaped him : the flare of a clump 
 of trumpet flowers growing about the bole of a 
 dead tree ; the fantastic similitude of a whirlpool 
 on the shining water ; the metallic gleam that 
 edged a spray of leaves, definite against the rough
 
 88 FELICIA. 
 
 gray rocks on the bank, it might be cast in 
 bronze, she remarked. 
 
 " How quick your perceptions are, how sen- 
 sitive you must be ! " he said. 
 
 " It is not fortunate to be sensitive," she de- 
 clared. 
 
 " That depends. Some emotions one need not 
 fear, and others are like vitriol ; they spoil every- 
 thing they touch. Did you ever notice carefully 
 any large collection of people ? I have often ob- 
 served that almost every face I could point 
 them out, one by one is burnt by envy, or ha- 
 tred, or ill temper, or anxiety ; most, no doubt, 
 by unnecessary cares, easier, and pleasanter, and 
 more natural to throw aside than to cherish." 
 
 " That is rank pessimism," said Felicia. " Peo- 
 ple don't spoil themselves for pleasure." 
 
 " They don't realize it." 
 
 " You talk like a very happy man," said Feli- 
 cia, with her former sedateness. "How would 
 you endure some blow, some bitter disappoint- 
 ment or grief? Don't you suppose the vitriol 
 would burn you, too ? " 
 
 " You call sorrow vitriol ? That does not burn. 
 Sorrow is the pen of the prophet : it writes on 
 the human palimpsest first a mandate, then a his- 
 tory ; but it does not necessarily destroy the page. 
 I don't hope to escape sorrow." 
 
 He rowed for a time in silence. The clouds 
 were tinged with rose ; the waves scintillated with 
 gleams of green and yellow ; the willows on shore 
 rustled, as the breeze swept through.
 
 FELICIA. 89 
 
 " When a man does see a woman's face," said 
 Hugh Kennett, with a long sigh, " on which no 
 unworthy feeling has left a belittling touch, which 
 is bright with hope like the morning, and strong 
 with intellect, and gentle, and soft, and all wo- 
 manly, he should thank God for the favor vouch- 
 safed ; for he has beheld the face of Eve in Para- 
 dise." 
 
 The shadows of the trees, ever lengthening, had 
 fallen over the water. And now the trees were 
 fewer, for the suburbs wero reached. Scattered 
 residences surrounded with shrubbery had ap- 
 peared upon the banks ; and already here was the 
 boat-house, craning over the water as if curious to 
 look at its own reflection. And on the slope of 
 the hill beyond there might be seen an ungainly 
 flat surface, suggesting the broad back of some 
 waddling animal, but which was recognizable as 
 the top of the street car. 
 
 Kennett was pulling in to the shore. " Layard, 
 and Schliemann, and Di Cesnola made valuable 
 researches," he remarked, as he helped her from 
 the boat. " They knew where Nineveh, and Troy, 
 and Salamis were, no doubt ; but one other ra- 
 ther notable place they don't exactly locate." He 
 laughed, musingly. " Who could have imagined 
 it was so far west ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " What is all that ? " asked Felicia, curiously. 
 
 But he only laughed again, and said that it was 
 not worth repeating and explaining. 
 
 As they reached the car they descried Fred,
 
 90 FELICIA. 
 
 coming in a violent hurry, flushed and panting. 
 He said that the " boss " at the blacksmith shop 
 had sent a man after the phaeton, who would take 
 the horse home and explain the accident. " He 's 
 got there by this time, with Henry Clay, and told 
 papa all about it," said Fred with a certain satis- 
 faction. Felicia thought Fred manifested consid- 
 erable acumen in denying himself the pleasure of 
 more equestrian exercise, and the glory of relat- 
 ing his sensational story in the paternal presence. 
 She pictured to herself, with some amusement, his 
 serious, anxious, sunburned face, when he warned 
 the emissary as no doubt he did to say no- / 
 thing of his ride on Henry Clay through the Park, 
 and when he magnified the older charioteer's share 
 in the accident. 
 
 The three started in a sufficiently amicable 
 frame of mind. But when Fred learned that Fe- 
 licia and Kennett had been upon the water, his 
 sky was abruptly overcast ; it was difficult to ap- 
 pease him ; he wanted to begin the afternoon over 
 again ; he wanted a new deal ; he would fain, like 
 Joshua, command the sun to stand still. He bit- 
 terly and illogically upbraided them with having 
 gone on the river without him. " Always trine ter 
 beat me out'n my fun," he whined. "An' what 
 do I want with this old knife, ennyhow ? I met 
 that boy again, an' went an' traded my two good 
 whangs o' leather fur it. An' I ain't been on 
 that river fur a month o' Sundays." 
 
 All the way home he was malcontent and mo-
 
 FELICIA. 91 
 
 rose, and meditated bitterly on his grievances, 
 commercial and social. 
 
 It was only the lumbering, ungraceful summer 
 car, drawn by two big mules, driven by a red-faced, 
 beery Irishman, presided over by a grizzled and 
 grim conductor. No, no ; rather, it was an en- 
 chanted chariot, rolling through the warm, sunset- 
 tinted twilight, carrying Happiness and Hope, 
 attended by Love and Constancy and all the 
 Graces. Far away, the city stretched in shadowy 
 uncertainty ; already the purple vistas were en- 
 riched by lines of yellow gleams, that crossed each 
 other in a tangled maze, like a swarm of fireflies ; 
 ruby points, advancing and receding, gemmed the 
 dusky streets ; the tinkle of bells was borne faintly 
 on the air ; the silver sphere of the full moon, 
 slowly appearing above the eastern roofs, outlined 
 them against the darkly blue sky with shining 
 white gleams. 
 
 When the trio of pleasure-seekers approached 
 John Hamilton's house, they saw him smoking a 
 cigar, as he leaned in a sufficiently graceful atti- 
 tude against one of the big fluted pillars at the 
 head of the flight of steps. The lingering day- 
 light showed the flowers in the grass-plot, and the 
 vines about the walls. The windows were open, 
 and through the lace curtains streamed the sub- 
 dued radiance of a shaded gas-jet. 
 
 " That is like a stage-setting," remarked Hugh 
 Kennett. " In another moment you will see ad- 
 vancing down the right centre the first lady, or 
 the villain, or the heavy father."
 
 92 FELICIA. 
 
 " There 's the heavy father, now, is n't he, 
 Fred ? " said Felicia. 
 
 Fred only mumbled that he did n't know, an' 
 didn't care, an' didn't want nuthiu' tcr say tor 
 her, always trine ter cheat somebody out'n 
 their fun. 
 
 John Hamilton was a cordial soul. When Fe- 
 licia introduced her companion, though he won- 
 dered grea.tly whether she had met him at Ma- 
 dame Sevier's or at home, he received the stranger 
 like a suddenly found friend, ardently shook hands, 
 and warmly invited him indoors. 
 
 Kennett replied that he was sorry he could not 
 come in, but he had not time ; he was due down- 
 town now. 
 
 " We shall be glad to see you at any time," 
 said the master of the house. 
 
 Hie heartiness of tone seemed to awaken reci- 
 procal warmth. Keunett replied, with the air of 
 very amicably receiving an advance, that next 
 week he should be at leisure, and should be glad 
 to avail himself of the invitation. He expected to 
 spend his vacation in Chilounatti. It was an 
 agreeable prospect. He had been knocking about 
 from pillar to post for so long, he thought he 
 should enjoy a rest. Delightful weather just now. 
 And then he lifted his hat and said good-evening. 
 
 " Glad to have met you, Mr. Kennett," declared 
 John Hamilton, unreservedly ; and as the sound 
 of the stranger's footsteps died away, he turned 
 to his sister.
 
 FELICIA. 93 
 
 " Who is that fellow, Felicia? " he asked, with 
 vivacious curiosity. 
 
 " That is the Mr. Kennett I mentioned to you. 
 He is a cousin of cousin Robert's," she replied, as 
 they entered the hall together. 
 
 " Did you meet him at Raymond's house ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. He was there one day when Fred 
 and I happened to call." 
 
 "What is his business?" asked John Hamil- 
 ton, somewhat indifferently, now that his curiosity 
 was satisfied. 
 
 u I don't know. I never heard him mention 
 business except what he said to you a moment 
 since. I have met him only three times. He 
 was in the Park last Saturday, and, while I was 
 waiting for Fred, he came up and talked to me. 
 He met us again this afternoon, after the phaeton 
 was broken, and I rowed with him from the Park 
 as far as the street railroad." 
 
 She said to herself that there should be nothing 
 clandestine about the affair. If any objections 
 were to be made, now was the time to make them. 
 John Hamilton was apparently disposed to ad- 
 vance none. 
 
 " Seems an agreeable sort of fellow," he re- 
 marked, casually.
 
 V. 
 
 THIS year, the summer was very long and hot. 
 From early morning till the reluctant sun sank 
 slowly below the horizon, the heated city rarely 
 flt the thrill of a breeze. Sometimes sudden, 
 short, angry thunderstorms passed tumultuously, 
 and left the air warm as ever, but permeated with 
 a heavy moisture. People plied their palm-leaf 
 fans, declared that it was intolerable, and left 
 town in great numbers. 
 
 Hugh Kennett, who had promptly availed him- 
 self of John Hamilton's invitation to call, was be- 
 fore long a frequent visitor at the house ; indeed, 
 almost the only visitor, so general had been the 
 exodus. The method of entertaining him might 
 have been deemed monotonous, but was in a cer- 
 tain sense flattering. He was allowed to slip into 
 the little circle on the footing of a family friend. 
 He was invited more than once to dinner, quite 
 informally. He fell into the habit of walking 
 by the house late in the afternoon, and there 
 was usually a plausible excuse to stop and chat 
 with the group disposed on the front steps, after 
 the custom in Southern and quasi-Southern, cities ; 
 he had brought a book they had had under dis- 
 cussion, or the illustrated papers, with the last
 
 FELICIA. 95 
 
 political cartoon ; some one would give him a has- 
 sock ; the dusk would deepen ; the few moments 
 would multiply ; the perfume of heliotrope and 
 roses would burden the warm, languorous air ; the 
 gentle voices of the women would rise and fall; 
 the moonbeams would slip down on their hair. 
 
 It was Mrs. Hamilton's habit, at a regular hour 
 every evening, to repair to the front room upstairs, 
 to put the baby to bed. This conscientious lady 
 would not attempt to overhear the conversation 
 of the young people ; she only undressed the baby 
 near the window, and their voices would float up 
 to her. His was resonant and carried well, and 
 was far more distinct than Felicia's. There 
 seemed to be nothing very important said. Some- 
 times his laughter rang out : it was a pleasant 
 laugh, peculiarly rich, full, and musical; it had 
 an appreciative suggestion. Occasionally there 
 were long pauses, and no wind stirred the vines, 
 and the flowers gave out a faint, sweet breath, and 
 the white blocks of moonlight on the streets and 
 sidewalks were unbroken by a passing shadow. 
 The 'discreet matron made the job of undressing 
 the baby a long and elaborate job, and came 
 down, with an innocent face and the consciousness 
 of duty well performed, to take her share in the 
 talk, for the most part trivial chat concerning 
 the incidents of the day, or the weather, or that 
 unfailing theme, the dullness of town. 
 
 " I should have found it unendurable but for 
 my calls here," he once said, frankly. " I have
 
 96 FELICIA. 
 
 not had much of the home atmosphere in my life. 
 I had no idea that I should appreciate the home 
 atmosphere so thoroughly as I do." 
 
 They grew to know him very well ; but he was 
 not a difficult person to know. He was trans- 
 parent, and in fact sometimes lacked tact. He 
 was not sensitive, in the interpretation of being 
 on the alert for slights ; either from pronounced 
 self-esteem or because of reliance on the inten- 
 tion of others, he was apt to place a kindly con- 
 struction on anything that was apparently equi- 
 vocal. He seemed to be tolerant in judgment, 
 and generous. There was but slight suggestion 
 of a fiercer stratum underlying the smooth sur- 
 face of his character. Fred, it is true, had a lurid 
 theory. 
 
 " He 's got a orful high temper," the boy re- 
 marked one day, when the new friend was under 
 discussion in the family circle. " Yer oughter 
 heard him givin' fits ter the man that come so 
 near runnin' over me on Sixth Street with his 
 team yestiddy, when I was jus' crossin' the street, 
 an' warn't thinkin' 'bout nuthin', nor lookin'. 
 An' Mr. Kennett, he happened to be passin', an' 
 he jus' jumped off the sidewalk, an' caught the 
 horses by the reins, an' hollered ter the man ter 
 mind what he was about. An' he was mighty 
 mad, Mr. Kennett was, an' swore." 
 
 He said this in a slightly awed voice, and looked 
 seriously at his mother, doubtful, but impressed. 
 She rose to the occasion.
 
 FELICIA. 97 
 
 " You shock me," she said. " How could Mr. 
 Kennett do so ungentlemanly a thing as to swear ! " 
 
 Felicia glanced up quickly, as Fred left the 
 room. 
 
 " Why should n't Mr. Kennett swear, if he 
 likes ? " she demanded, aggressively. 
 
 " According; to Fred's account there was no 
 
 o 
 
 reason," replied Mrs. Hamilton, with a mild gig- 
 gle. 
 
 Notwithstanding her partisanship, something in 
 this episode grated on our fastidious young lady's 
 ideas of the fitness of things, and it might have 
 been with a lurking intention as to the effect 
 of a subtle, unrecognized influence that she con- 
 trived, at the first opportunity, to steer the con- 
 versation into the subject of self-command, and 
 to lay down some impersonal, and it might even 
 be said elementary, propositions touching the triv- 
 iality of character suggested by an incapacity to 
 control the temper. " It is as ludicrous and weak 
 for a man to stamp about, and break things, and 
 swear because he is in a rage as it is for a woman 
 to mope and cry because she feels nervous," said 
 the young Mentor, didactically. 
 
 And Mrs. Hamilton, who happened to overhear 
 this, noticed that Mr. Kennett wore a bland and 
 innocent unconsciousness, which induced in the 
 matron of a decade the reflection that, if Felicia 
 were ambitious of a missionary career, the hea- 
 then offered a more promising field than the one 
 she seemed to have in contemplation.
 
 98 FELICIA. 
 
 He was mild mannered and peaceable enough, 
 however, so far as they knew of their own know- 
 ledge, and Fred's story might require a grain or 
 two of salt. 
 
 In their long interviews he was somewhat given 
 to silence ; he talked little about himself, and 
 was little inclined to reminiscence. Once he 
 spoke of his mother, who had died when he was 
 growing into manhood. She was very strict, he 
 said, very stern and uncompromising ; she was 
 the most devoted of mothers ; she had no happi- 
 ness save in the welfare of her children. His 
 father he mentioned occasionally, with that ten- 
 derness which Felicia had earlier divined had 
 survived a bitter and long-felt grief. Of his sis- 
 ters, the elder, three years his junior, had died at 
 twenty-two. That loss had broken his father's 
 heart ; he did not live long afterward. The 
 younger sister had married about a year ago, and 
 had been abroad ever since. He said he had 
 been disappointed ; he thought she deserved well 
 of fate ; she was very beautiful and talented. 
 Her husband was a good fellow, but common- 
 place. 
 
 This, in effect, was all that was revealed, in 
 those summer evenings, of Hugh Kennett's past. 
 To Mrs. Hamilton, afterward, it seemed very 
 meagre, though at the time she felt no laelc. 
 And as for him, when a man is happy he thinks 
 little of his past. He was doing what few can do 
 in a lifetime, he was living his present; he was
 
 FELICIA. 99 
 
 interpreting that problem which eludes us when 
 it is attainable, and mocks us when it has slipped 
 by, at once the simplest and the most complex ele- 
 ment of existence, that tantalizing mystery, Now. 
 His past was narrowed to what was said and 
 glanced yesterday evening ; his future was 
 bounded by the possibilities of to-morrow. 
 
 Felicia, too, was alive in every sensitive suscep- 
 tibility to the influences which permeated the in- 
 tense momentous present of these radiant summer 
 days. Life had come to be enchantment to her ; 
 the prosaic episodes of the daily routine were 
 transfigured and dignified; monotony, it was 
 an unrealized and a forgotten force ; thought was 
 reverie. She, too, had no longer need for memory 
 or anticipation. Her beauty had acquired a new 
 softness ; there was a sort of tender appeal about 
 her, and yet the delicate and ethereal exaltation 
 which possessed her had a less poetic element, for 
 she was prosaically good-humored ; annoyances 
 that would once have tried her sorely had become 
 merely unexpected opportunity for mirth ; she 
 had developed sympathy and tact ; she was gentle 
 and amenable, and easily pleased. "A girl in 
 love is a very agreeable visitor in the house," was 
 Mrs. Hamilton's comment, a mental comment, 
 for she was a prudent woman, and in silence smil- 
 ingly watched the little drama, in which the ac- 
 tors were too deeply absorbed to remember the 
 spectator. 
 
 All this time John Hamilton was absent from
 
 100 FELICIA. 
 
 home. The day after he met Hugh Kennett, he 
 had been called away to certain famous Dakota 
 wheat-fields. He was going into very heavy enter- 
 prises ; he proposed to himself that his opera- 
 tions in the near future should be still heavier ; 
 he aspired to be the Napoleon of the next great 
 " deal." Fortune, so far, had favored him, and 
 he was liberal as well as ambitious. He was ready 
 to give appropriate exponents of his increasing 
 prosperity, and had bought a particularly eligible 
 corner lot, on which he was building a fine house. 
 One of Mrs. Hamilton's reasons for liking Hugh 
 Kennett was the fact that he had so much taste 
 and acumen in the matter of the new house, and 
 she frequently consulted him. 
 
 " Don't you think the walls of that east room 
 should be Pompeian red, Mr. Kennett ? " she 
 said one day, fixing her eyes on his face as if she 
 would read his very soul. She was constantly 
 growing more assured as to manner, and her in- 
 creasing prosperity expressed itself more distinctly, 
 still with circumspection, in the appointments of 
 her house, her carriage, and her dress. She was 
 not the less eager, however, to avail herself of the 
 advice and experience of others, and kept her own 
 views in a condition to be instantly modified by 
 circumstances. " Pompeian red, with panels, 
 those large panels, with arabesques in shaded 
 reds. I showed you the design." 
 
 " Well, to be perfectly candid," he replied, " it 
 seems to me those panels are too pronounced, too 
 theatrical."
 
 FELICIA. 101 
 
 " Do you think so ? " she said, and meditated 
 deeply on this view. 
 
 They were going, this afternoon, to look over 
 the new house. Mrs. Hamilton her plump 
 little figure encased in a gray and white India 
 silk, which seemed refreshingly light and cool 
 walked in front with Kennett. Her face, flushed 
 with heat and exercise, under the soft brown hair 
 that waved on each side of her candid brow, was 
 a study of anxiety and complacence. Her round, 
 gentle, inquiring eyes took in all the details about 
 the ambitious mansions they passed. Her little 
 remarks were not sufficiently absorbing to pre- 
 vent his hearing every word uttered by Felicia, 
 who, with Fred as escort, made up the party. 
 
 It chanced that, in the course of the expedition, 
 Mrs. Hamilton was in the hall in consultation with 
 the architect, on the endless subject of the stair- 
 case, Fred had strolled off, and the other two 
 found themselves in the great unfurnished draw- 
 ing-rooms. Felicia had been much exercised about 
 various points under discussion, and had given 
 her opinion with frankness and vivacity. " When 
 those changes about the sliding-doors upstairs 
 have been made and the frescoing finished, it 
 will be almost perfect ; don't you think so ? " she 
 said, appealing to Kennett. 
 
 He did not reply. He was leaning against the 
 window-frame, his eyes fixed on her, as she stood 
 in the middle of the floor. She had come at a 
 moment's notice, in the lawn morning-dress
 
 102 FELICIA. 
 
 white flecked with pink she was wearing. 
 Nothing could be simpler. She was without 
 gloves. Her garden hat shaded her face. She 
 seemed to him fair and fresh as a flower. 
 
 " Do you know," she exclaimed, suddenly, " this 
 is the first time I ever saw you out of spirits. 
 You look dismal. What is the matter ? " 
 
 " I was thinking," he returned, a trifle embar- 
 rassed. 
 
 " So I perceived ; but of what ? " 
 
 " Well, to be candid, I was thinking that you 
 ought to have a house like this, a house of your 
 own." 
 
 " Oh," cried Felicia, " I should n't like it ! " 
 
 " You seem very fond of all this sort of thing," 
 he persisted. " You were describing with actual 
 enthusiasm the upholstery they have selected for 
 this room." 
 
 " I am interested for other people." 
 
 " Frankly, now, would n't you like it for your- 
 self?" 
 
 She glanced about her critically, at the big 
 rooms opposite, the big hall, the sweep of the 
 stair-case, the carved newel-post, which had cost 
 Mrs. Hamilton several nights' rest lest it should 
 not be exactly what was desired. She tried to 
 imagine it all when finished, the rich and ac- 
 cordant coloring, the pictures, the deep, soft car- 
 pets, the sheen of mirrors. Then she turned her 
 eyes on him with a smile. 
 
 *' I hope it is not discreditable to me," she re-
 
 FELICIA. 103 
 
 plied, " an irresponsible, Bohemian way of 
 looking at things, but, frankly, I should n't care 
 to have a house like this. Sophie is going to find 
 it a white elephant ; a good thing in its way, but 
 a great responsibility." 
 
 His face was less grave, but he shook his head. 
 " I am afraid you don't understand relative val- 
 ues," he said. 
 
 " Why, you are doing me injustice ! " cried 
 Felicia, crimsoning suddenly. " This is the first 
 time I ever knew you to do any one injustice. 
 You must think me very frivolous to care so much 
 for things, mere things" 
 
 " No, no ; you misunderstand me," he protested. 
 " I was only a little curious as to how you feel 
 about such matters. What do you care for most, 
 if not for ' things ' ? " 
 
 " Well," began Felicia, appeased, she was 
 easily appeased, " I believe I care most for people, 
 agreeable, bright, cheerful people ; not glum indi- 
 viduals, who stand in a window and quarrel about 
 nothing. Then I like change and variety. I am 
 fond of things, too, pretty things ; but princi- 
 pally I like people. I have seen so much deadly 
 dullness in the best houses. That is what I hate, 
 dullness." 
 
 All the light had come back to his face. 
 
 " What you like,'' he said, recapitulating, "is 
 brightness, and what you hate is dullness." 
 
 " Yes," said Felicia, with her sunny smile. She 
 had perched on one of the carpenter's saw-horses,
 
 104 FELICIA. 
 
 and leaned her elbow among the shavings scat- 
 tered about the big, rough work-bench ; she sup- 
 ported her head on her hand. She had been run- 
 ning up and down stairs ; the expression of her 
 eyes showed that she was tired. 
 
 " And it would not be a bitterness, a trial, to 
 you to give up I have often thought it a great 
 sacrifice a man situated as I am would ask you to 
 make, if he should tell you that he that 
 that I " 
 
 He was agitated ; he hesitated, yet he glanced 
 around in intense impatience because of an inter- 
 ruption, as Mrs. Hamilton came suddenly into the 
 room. 
 
 " Felicia," she began, with excitement, " don't 
 you see that carriage stopping in front of the 
 door ? Who can it be ? " She had rustled to 
 the window. " Why, it is Mr. Raymond ! " she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 A gentleman had alighted from the vehicle, and 
 was advancing up the pavement. He saw the 
 group at the window, and as they emerged into 
 the hall to meet him he entered at the front door. 
 His face was grave. 
 
 " They told me at the other house you were 
 here," he said hurriedly, as he greeted Mrs. Ham- 
 ilton. " I have bad news. Mr. Stanley died last 
 night, very unexpectedly. The physicians had 
 pronounced him convalescent. I must ask you 
 and Felicia to give some orders for Amy and Mrs. 
 Brant, and "
 
 FELICIA. 105 
 
 He paused abruptly as he caught sight of his 
 cousin ; there was much surprise in his face as 
 they shook hands. " Have you been in town all 
 summer, Hugh ? " he asked. 
 
 " All summer," replied Kennett. 
 
 Raymond looked hard at him, the troubled per- 
 plexity deepening on his face. Nothing further 
 was said, however. He turned to Mrs. Hamilton 
 to reply to her interrogations and remarks touch- 
 ing the news he had brought, and gave Felicia a 
 note from his wife, hasty and blotted with 
 tears. There were tears in her sympathetic eyes 
 as she read it. 
 
 " You can go now ? " asked Mr. Raymond. 
 " The stores will be closed in an hour or two." 
 
 Felicia assented, and started toward the door. 
 
 " Won't you have time, Felicia, to put on a 
 street dress ? " cried Mrs. Hamilton, in dismay. 
 She had adopted not a little of the young lady's 
 exacting code of externals. 
 
 " Oh, what does it matter at such a time ! " ex- 
 claimed Felicia ; and Hugh Kennett thought loy- 
 ally how petty, how trivial-minded, were the best 
 of women Mrs. Hamilton was one of the best 
 of women in comparison with a supremely 
 lovely nature like this. He did not accompany 
 the trio. 
 
 " I will take Fred home before I go down 
 town," he said, as he stood on the sidewalk, by 
 the carriage door. 
 
 As they drove away, Mr. Raymond remarked, 
 " You seem to know Keimett pretty well."
 
 106 FELICIA. 
 
 " Oh, yes, indeed ; he has been such a pleasant 
 friend," said Mrs. Hamilton, enthusiastically. 
 " He is so agreeable, and high minded, and well 
 informed, and such a gentleman." 
 
 Felicia's shining eyes dewy and dark with 
 feeling were fixed on the speaker ; her lips 
 wore that curve which expresses more happiness 
 than a smile. Robert Raymond thought he had 
 never seen her so childlike, so beautiful, so uncon- 
 strained, as she sat opposite him, in her simple 
 dress, with her soft, ungloved hands lying lightly 
 in her lap. " How her face reveals her heart ! " 
 he thought. 
 
 "Yes," he said, " Kennett is an agreeable fel- 
 low. Does Hamilton know him ? " 
 
 " They were introduced to each other the even- 
 ing before John received the telegram calling him 
 to Dakota. By the way, I am looking for John 
 every day, now." 
 
 " He is just back," announced Raymond, sud- 
 denly. " We met on the train to-day." 
 
 " Oh, dear, perhaps I ought to go home ! " cried 
 Mrs. Hamilton, in a flutter. 
 
 " No ; he knew I should see you, and he asked 
 me to tell you that he could not leave the office 
 until late, there is so much to arrange." 
 
 " Oh, well, then," said Mrs. Hamilton, settling 
 back contentedly. To be sure, the opportunity 
 was a melancholy one, but even the duty of order- 
 ing a friend's mourning is its own recompense, 
 and spending money on so sad an occasion affords 
 the Mrs. Hamiltons of this world a gloomy joy.
 
 FELICIA. 107 
 
 It was evident that the time for the purchases 
 was very short, yet as the two ladies were about 
 to enter the store at which the carriage stopped 
 Raymond detained them. He was greatly dis- 
 quieted ; his eye was anxious and wandering ; he 
 began more than one sentence, and broke off in 
 its midst. 
 
 " There is still something I must see about," he 
 said, uncertainly. " I will come back here and 
 say good-by or no I shall not have time. 
 Perhaps, Mrs. Hamilton, you will drive down to 
 the depot. I will meet you there." 
 
 He left them abruptly, and Mrs. Hamilton 
 stared at him as he went. " How funny he is ! " 
 she said, wonderingly. 
 
 The truth was, the Reverend Robert's con- 
 science was after him, and it pursued him in a 
 lively fashion till he reached the office of Hamil- 
 ton and Gale Commission Merchants. 
 
 He was very nearly left by the train, this after- 
 noon. Mrs. Hamilton and Felicia, sitting in the 
 carriage at the depot, had waited half an hour ; 
 the locomotive had pulled into the building ; 
 crowds of passengers were boarding the cars 
 before they saw his face framed by the window 
 of a hack that was driven furiously down the 
 street. He had barely time for hasty adieux. 
 " Goocl-by, good-by ! " he exclaimed. " It is very 
 kind of you to take so much trouble." 
 
 He looked hard at Felicia ; she did not under- 
 stand his expression. It was tender ; it curiously
 
 108 FELICIA. 
 
 blended a sort of compassion and a sort of en- 
 treaty. After he had started hurriedly from them, 
 he turned back suddenly, took her hand, and held 
 it in a strong clasp. " God bless you, my dear 
 child," he said. 
 
 " He is very, very odd to-day," said Mrs. Ham- 
 ilton, again gazing vaguely after his receding 
 figure. " How strange, his coming back to bid 
 you good-by again, Felicia, and how strangely he 
 looked at you ! " 
 
 " I suppose it is because Amy is so fond of me," 
 said Felicia. " Now that she is grieved he feels 
 very kindly to any one she loves." 
 
 But she did not quite accept her own explana- 
 tion, and pondered on that pitiful expression of 
 his in pained bewilderment.
 
 VI. 
 
 THAT night seemed afterward to Felicia like 
 the beginning of a terrible dream. It opened 
 with a bitter experience, for the first time in 
 her life she received a cruel look, directed point- 
 blank into her eyes. To be admired, quoted, 
 commended lavishly and injudiciously, this had 
 been her lot so far ; and to her half-brother, 
 who was almost double her age she was in- 
 debted for more than a fair share of praise and 
 petting. To receive from him a prolonged stare, 
 keen, critical, no, was it not more ? even angry, 
 bitterly angry, it was like receiving a blow in 
 the face. 
 
 As there was no visitor this evening, she had 
 shared with Sophie the diversion of getting the 
 baby to bed. She was sitting on the floor, with 
 the child in her arms, when Hamilton's step and 
 voice sounded in the hall below, and his wife 
 ran downstairs to meet him. 
 
 As they entered the room, Felicia called out 
 gayly, without rising, " See how strong' the baby 
 is, John ! See how she has learned to stand alone 
 while you were away ! Stand alone-y, precious, 
 for your auntie." 
 
 She looked up, startled, as her brother spoke ; 
 his voice was cold and hard.
 
 110 FELICIA. 
 
 " Pack your trunks at once, Felicia," he said, 
 abruptly. " We shall start for the East to-mor- 
 row, and you will go with us." 
 
 She rose to her feet in surprise, the child still 
 in her arms. 
 
 " Going East to-morrow ? " she repeated faintly. 
 
 Then it was he bent upon her that cruel look. 
 
 "You don't seem pleased," he said, with a 
 short laugh. " I thought you would be delighted 
 to get back to your beloved Madame Sevier 
 again." 
 
 "I I don't want to go now it 's so so 
 hot," said Felicia, hesitating. 
 
 " We '11 hunt a cool resort ; Mount Desert, per- 
 haps. Or maybe we '11 try Long Branch, Cape 
 May, Saratoga. I don't know where we '11 go. 
 We '11 have an outing. You and Sophie have 
 been penned in this dull hole all summer." Again 
 he laughed, his eyes still fixed on hers. 
 
 For a moment she did not reply : then she fal- 
 tered, " This is very strange. It is not proper for 
 me to go off on a pleasure trip so soon after the 
 death of a near connection of my mother's. Papa 
 will be very angry." 
 
 " This trip is my affair. I propose to account 
 to father for your movements," returned Hamil- 
 ton, significantly. 
 
 She did not, as might have been expected of 
 one so indulged and so spirited, resent his tone. 
 She was amazed and startled, and she quailed a 
 little. She lifted her eyes with a propitiatory
 
 FELICIA. Ill 
 
 look. " You are not angry with me, brother ? " 
 she said, almost meekly. She usually addressed 
 him by his name ; he softened a moment, then 
 hardened again. 
 
 " Why should I be angry with you ? " he de- 
 manded. " Give the baby to Julia, and go to 
 your packing. We leave in the morning at five 
 o'clock." 
 
 Felicia went to her room. She stood medita- 
 tive and motionless, near the window, her eyes 
 upon the scene without. The moonlight alter- 
 nated with parallelograms of black shadow ; very 
 quiet was the street ; the stars burned faintly ; the 
 wind had died ; fireflies gleamed fitfully among 
 the foliage of the shade trees along the sidewalk, 
 whence she was wont to catch the advancing red 
 glow of Hugh Kennett's cigar. She walked 
 slowly to her desk, seated herself, and began to 
 write. Her brother, lounging on the balcony of 
 his own room, watched her curiously through the 
 vista of doors, left open that any welcome vagrant 
 breeze might enter. He saw that she hesitated 
 as she wrote ; that she made more than one be- 
 ginning ; that she read over the few lines hur- 
 riedly, placed the sheet in an envelope, and di- 
 rected it with a precipitancy that contrasted with 
 her previous deliberation. He saw her hand it to 
 the maid, who had been packing the trunks, with 
 the injunction to run across the street and place 
 it in the letter-box. 
 
 " To-night, Miss Felicia ? " asked the girl, in 
 surprise.
 
 112 FELICIA. 
 
 " Yes, now," she replied. 
 
 John Hamilton rose, entered from the balcony, 
 and walked downstairs composedly. When the 
 servant had laid aside the articles in her hands 
 and descended with the note, she came upon him 
 pacing up and down the hall, his hands in his 
 pockets, and a cigar, which he had just lighted, 
 in his mouth. 
 
 " What's that ? " he demanded, glancing at the 
 envelope she held. 
 
 " It is a note Miss Felicia wanted me to post," 
 the servant answered. 
 
 He held out his hand silently for the note, and 
 as he read, " Mr. Hugh Kennett, Lawrence Ho- 
 tel," he turned the envelope so that his wife, who 
 chanced to be coming downstairs, could see the 
 address ; then he handed it back to the maid, who 
 passed out of the open door into the moonlit 
 street. 
 
 " When I asked you, Sophie," he said bitterly, 
 to his wife, " how far this affair had gone, you 
 said it would not amount to anything. I thought 
 then you were mistaken, and I think so now more 
 than ever." 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton made no reply. She had a 
 scared, anxious look ; all her little complacence, 
 so satisfactorily growing and putting forth new 
 shoots, had wilted in an hour. She had never 
 seen so stern an expression on her husband's face. 
 Much bronzed his face was by his trip ; his hair 
 and mustache had grown luxuriant ; he was
 
 FELICIA. 113 
 
 stouter than when he left home. Big, strong, and 
 prosperous, his was the very face and figure for 
 placid satisfaction ; but his eyebrows had met in 
 a heavy frown, he gnawed his lip under his flow- 
 ing mustache. t; We are going to have the devil 
 and all of a time with that girl," he prophesied, 
 grimly. 
 
 The sunrise was hardly more than a rosy glow 
 over the landscape when the Hamiltons started on 
 their " outing," and the neighborhood was greatly 
 amazed because of the suddenness of the flitting. 
 
 Heretofore Felicia had been an excellent trav- 
 eler, always ready, well, entertained, good-hu- 
 mored. The new faces, the variety of incident, 
 even the rapidity of motion, gave her that keen 
 sense of delight impossible to one less healthy, 
 young, and joyous. Now the zest was lacking to 
 the journey. She did not look with interest at 
 the people about her, and busy her imagination 
 with their histories, the comedies and tragedies of 
 their lives ; the landscape slipped by unheeded. 
 Once she would have found Fred and his idiosyn- 
 crasies under these new circumstances great fun ; 
 now his eager talk tired her ; the warmth of the 
 weather oppressed her ; she was irritated by the 
 sound of the train, the bustle, the confusion, the 
 swarms of people. 
 
 When the party reached New York, and later 
 Boston, she had the shock of a painful surprise. 
 Among the letters which had been sent on from 
 Chilounatti, there was no reply to the note she
 
 114 FELICIA. 
 
 had written Hugh Kennett the evening before 
 she left town. It had been a simple little note, 
 merely telling him of the unexpected departure 
 and wishing him good-by. But she had confi- 
 dently expected a reply, and his silence bewil- 
 dered, pained, and cruelly mortified her. The 
 complication of feelings developed gradually into 
 the first deep depression of spirit she had ever 
 known. There was little opportunity for distrac- 
 tion in outside interests. John Hamilton's idea 
 of summer pleasuring seemed to be expressed by 
 a swift, transit from place to place ; to see all that 
 was to be seen and to buy all that was desired in 
 as short a time as possible. His plan was to take 
 the cities first, then the watering places. There 
 was much of isolation in this style of enjoyment. 
 Felicia's New York friends had all left town. 
 The party met few acquaintances, and found but 
 scant entertainment in the spectacle of metropoli- 
 tan life out of season, a dismal spectacle enough ; 
 like a moulting bird, an absurd caricature of it- 
 self. 
 
 To Felicia it was very tiresome to wander 
 through the picture-galleries, and gaze vacantly 
 at the works of art designated by the catalogues 
 for intelligent admiration ; still more tiresome to 
 force herself to take interest in the endless dis- 
 cussions concerning carpets, glass, and china at 
 the various fashionable stores, where the party 
 came to be well known, and where John Hamil- 
 ton's liberality and his wife's taste extorted high
 
 FELICIA. 115 
 
 commendation. Perhaps something was extorted 
 on the other side, but as the Hamiltons were satis- 
 fied with their purchases we need make no moan. 
 
 Felicia's unhappiness was very evident, and 
 now it was that John Hamilton should have taken 
 the field in force with a bountiful supply of am- 
 munition in the way of tact. If Felicia had been 
 the recipient of the customary kind consideration 
 from her sister-in-law and of his half-jocular, half- 
 tender petting, she would naturally have turned 
 to their affection, and the impressions of the last 
 few weeks might have loosed their hold. But 
 Hamilton proved himself grievously lacking in dis- 
 cernment, in adroitness, even in common policy. 
 He was a man of strong will and high temper ; 
 when he was displeased he was very likely to 
 make the fact more patent than the occasion re- 
 quired. 
 
 There was something hard in John Hamilton. 
 Many of those who knew him best never suspected 
 it. The expression of his florid face, his jolly 
 laughter, his free, frank, hearty manner, afforded 
 no suggestion of the underlying iron in his na- 
 ture. His habit of success had given him an im- 
 periousncss of intention and expectation. He 
 would not contemplate adverse circumstance ; he 
 would not tolerate opposing will. He was at no 
 time disposed to subject his thoughts and feelings 
 to scrutiny. He did not reason on the matter in 
 hand. It was not his intention to break his sis- 
 ter's spirit ; he was simply displeased, and it was
 
 116 FELICIA. 
 
 his instinct to sweep out of existence whatever dis- 
 pleased him. 
 
 This silent, bitter antagonism was an unfortu- 
 nate course to pursue with Felicia. In many re- 
 spects she and her brother were alike : in her 
 nature, too, there was hard metal ; she, too, was 
 intolerant and imperious. When she first became 
 aware of that inexplicable antagonism, pervading 
 the moral atmosphere like an impending thunder- 
 storm, she made some effort to place affairs on a 
 less sombre footing. Her attempts at conversa- 
 tion and vivacity were met with anxious uncer- 
 tainty on Sophie's part, and a cold unresponsive- 
 ness from her brother. Disconcerted and abashed, 
 she fell again into her absorbed musings, with the 
 changed manner of her companions for a new 
 theme. Under these circumstances traveling 
 was not unalloyed pleasure. She would have 
 given up the trip and returned home, but that she 
 had received a letter from her father to the effect 
 that the house was shut up ; that he was off on 
 the circuit, and expected to have no vacation un- 
 til the early part of September, when he would 
 meet the party in New York, and take her home 
 with him. Obviously no radical change was pos- 
 sible, but a new element of feeling was unexpect- 
 edly infused into the situation. 
 
 During the early portion of the journey she 
 saw but little of her brother. In the cities they 
 visited he had his own engagements. While in 
 transit he occupied himself in playing with the
 
 FELICIA. 117 
 
 baby or reading the newspapers, or he was ab- 
 sorbed with a note-book and pencil and abstruse 
 calculations. One day, however, when he chanced 
 to be seated beside her, she broke a long silence 
 by saying, with a sigh, that she supposed they 
 would receive no more letters until they should 
 again become stationary for a time. 
 
 He looked at her quickly, keenly, suspiciously, 
 She did not understand it, she did not under- 
 stand him, and she spoke on the impulse of the 
 moment. 
 
 " Are you displeased with me ? " she asked, 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Why should I be displeased with you, Feli- 
 cia? " he demanded, curtly. He was rising as he 
 spoke ; he had taken out a cigar ; in his other 
 hand he had a match. He looked down at her, 
 and his face held so tyrannical an expression 
 an expression at once angry, cold, and overbear- 
 ing that the smouldering fire of her pride kin- 
 dled in an instant. 
 
 " I am sure I don't know," she retorted, with 
 spirit. Their eyes met. Perhaps there came to 
 him at this moment some belated inspiration of 
 policy, for, after a second of hesitation, he turned 
 on his heel and made his way into the smoking- 
 car. 
 
 Felicia's pride, once ablaze, did not again 
 smoulder. The infusion of animation into her 
 manner was genuine enough, after this, but it 
 was not the light-hearted joyousness of old. She
 
 118 FELICIA. 
 
 was on the alert at last, on the defensive ; she 
 was even ready to engage the skulking antago- 
 nisms. Nothing was expressed ; nothing was so 
 tangible that explanations were in order ; her re- 
 sentment only shone in her eyes, vibrated in the 
 ring of her voice, curved with her upper lip, 
 which had drooped lately and given her a certain 
 pathos to enhance the pallor of her face. She 
 was not always pale now ; she flushed easily and 
 brilliantly ; she carried herself proudly ; she be- 
 came somewhat addicted to sarcasm. Hamilton 
 interpreted all this, perhaps correctly enough, as 
 defiance. " Did n't I tell you, Sophie," he said 
 to his wife, discussing with her one of these mani- 
 festations, " that we were going to have a devil of 
 a time with Felicia? I suppose you see how re- 
 bellious she is?" 
 
 " Perhaps, dear, if you were a little more gen- 
 tle with her " suggested Mrs. Hamilton, meekly. 
 
 " Gentle ! Blaukity blank ! " exclaimed John 
 Hamilton, hotly. The good lady cowered when- 
 ever he fell into expletive. 
 
 It would, perhaps, have been lucky for the ter- 
 mination of this affair, looked at from his own 
 standpoint, if Hamilton had married a terma- 
 gant instead of his acquiescent Sophie. It is 
 well enough for a man to be afraid of no man ; 
 it is not a bad thing for him to be afraid in 
 reason of some woman. John Hamilton was 
 afraid of nobody, least of all, of Felicia. He 
 met her tacit defiance with tacit counter-defiance.
 
 FELICIA. 119 
 
 He did not dream how unhappy she was ; per- 
 haps he would not have altered his course if he 
 had realized it, so incapable of concession was his 
 nature. She was too intense, too untamed, too 
 young, to accept wretchedness save with passion- 
 ate protest. Sometimes, after a day made up of 
 the weary daze of shopping and sight-seeing, or 
 the laborious idleness of watering-place life, when 
 shut at last into her own room, she would sob for 
 hours in the light of the summer moon or the 
 white stars. 
 
 Underlying the pained bewilderment and indig- 
 nation induced by the latent domestic discord was 
 the complication of emotions caused by Hugh 
 Kennett's inexplicable silence. Often she said to 
 herself she would be reasonable about this matter. 
 Did she not know him well enough, she asked 
 herself, to decide if it were consonant with his 
 character to inflict a slight upon any human be- 
 ing ? He was very tender-hearted, she had 
 often noticed that ; he was almost weak in that 
 respect ; it was a little absurd to be so ultra-care- 
 ful of the feelings of other people ; and would he, 
 who would not wound Fred, who spoke with con- 
 sideration to the servants, to the very beggars on 
 the street, put an affront upon any one, upon 
 her f For a time this train of thought would com- 
 fort her ; but when again alone, the reverse side 
 of the question would present itself. He would 
 not put a slight upon her, of course he would 
 not ; but her note was a matter of such little
 
 120 FELICIA. 
 
 moment to him that he could not imagine it was 
 important to her. He had forgotten her note, 
 that was all. Her ingenuity in self-torture was 
 as uncharacteristic as her self-depreciation. As 
 to what she had fancied he was about to say that 
 last day, she had been misled by her vanity. 
 This reflection made her humble enough. In an 
 evil moment an elaboration of this theory oc- 
 curred to her. Perhaps he, too, had reviewed 
 those words of his, which seemed to hold a mo- 
 mentous meaning, a meaning he did not intend ; 
 and if that were the case, what of encouragement 
 did her note imply? Did it seem to lure him 
 further when he had said nothing, when he had 
 nothing to say? And his silence: was he silent 
 in scorn, divining her misinterpretation ; in mercy, 
 that she might have no opportunity to commit 
 herself further? So warped was her judgment, 
 so morbid had she grown, that this wild theory 
 came to be an actual fact to her mind, and all 
 the pangs that had gone before were as nothing 
 to the poignant anguish of her writhing pride. 
 
 Toward the end of August, John Hamilton's 
 party found themselves for a few days in Phila- 
 delphia. 'One warm afternoon, the choice was 
 presented to Felicia to go with Sophie to select 
 lace curtains, or with Fred to the Academy of Sci- 
 ences. She yielded to her nephew's ardent insist- 
 ence, thinking that it would be cool in the Acad- 
 emy building, and she need not talk ; it was not 
 even necessary to go through the form of reply- 
 ing to Fred.
 
 FELICIA. 121 
 
 The building was lonely. In all the half mil- 
 lion plus of inhabitants in the city there 
 seemed to be nobody but themselves disposed to- 
 ward science. The big halls responded with hol- 
 low echoes to the sound of their steps. Fred's 
 raptures, when they reached the skeleton of the 
 Megatherium, were difficult to control ; he met 
 the gigantic bones as if he had found a long-lost 
 brother. Felicia, tired of his noisy comments 
 and his monotonous accent, as he laboriously read 
 the valuable paragraphs devoted by the catalogue 
 to the admired object, strolled away. As she 
 stood at some distance, looking absently about 
 her, she was surprised to hear her own name. 
 She turned her head quickly. A gentleman was 
 standing near her, his hat in his hand, a smile of 
 greeting on his lips.
 
 VII. 
 
 ABSORBED in her own reflections, she had not 
 noticed an approach, and Alfred Grafton was now 
 so foreign to her thoughts that for an instant she 
 had a trifle of difficulty in recognizing him. That 
 supremacy in small crises conferred by her train- 
 ing came to her aid, and the hesitation with which 
 she extended her hand was not perceptible. He 
 stood in a bar of sunshine that lighted him. up 
 with unwonted effectiveness ; his dark hazel eyes 
 had yellow gleams in them ; he was smiling ; for 
 once his face had an entirely simple expression, 
 the expression of unaffected pleasure ; the sum- 
 mer suit he wore was becoming ; he looked very 
 well. 
 
 After a few conventional inquiries as to the 
 health of the family, " I suppose," he said, with 
 an indefinite wave of his hand at the materialized 
 learning in the cabinets about them, " you find 
 all this very interesting ? " 
 
 " The bones ? No, to be quite candid, I don't 
 enjoy them ; I don't care anything about them." 
 
 His momentary geniality had already disap- 
 peared. He replied with an intonation of objec- 
 tion, not strong enough to be resented as a 
 rebuke, but which irritated by its suggestion that
 
 FELICIA. 123 
 
 he esteemed his own views the exactly appropri- 
 ate sentiments. 
 
 " I should think a lady of your intellect might 
 find much to instruct and entertain her here." 
 
 " I am not a lady of intellect," returned Feli- 
 cia, perversely. " I am a very frivolous person. 
 I can entertain myself, and I don't want to be 
 instructed." 
 
 They were walking together down the long hall. 
 She swung her parasol lightly, and glanced about 
 her indifferently. Grafton may have been 
 vaguely conscious of her strong subcurrent of 
 painful emotion, and, aware that his words were 
 in some way repugnant to her, have yielded to an 
 infrequent impulse of magnanimity ; he may have 
 been only desirous to propitiate her. At any rate, 
 he made the one approach to an apology of which 
 his record can boast. 
 
 " I hope I did n't offend you," he said, almost 
 with deprecation. 
 
 "Oh, dear, no," declared Felicia, heartlessly. 
 " I did n't care." 
 
 He could not complain now that her suavity 
 was too pronounced for sincerity. The tone in 
 which she said this was hardly civil, but for a 
 certain tense vibration which, notwithstanding his 
 stilted code and contracted horizon, he had suffi- 
 cient discernment to interpret as the manifesta- 
 tion of acute mental disquiet. He turned his 
 bright, deep-set eyes upon her, as they walked on, 
 side by side. Her face had lost somewhat in
 
 124 FELICIA. 
 
 color, in roundness of line, in animation ; it had 
 acquired something he did not understand, 
 something not joyous, but replete with meaning ; 
 it seemed to him to have become susceptible of 
 taking on subtle and complex expressions. As 
 the momentary irritation faded, there came in its 
 stead a certain dignity, and that ethereal look 
 which much thought or much feeling can confer. 
 Added to the fascination of her smile which he 
 had known she glanced at him and smiled 
 presently, as if in reparation, and her voice had 
 gentle intonations was a new fascination which 
 he could not analyze. 
 
 He was cordially welcomed by both Mr. and 
 Mrs. Hamilton, when he appeared at the hotel 
 that evening. They, as well as Felicia, had found 
 their method of pleasuring rather dismal. " To 
 go about among strangers all the time is poor 
 enjoyment, no matter how many new things one 
 buys," declared Mrs. Hamilton. He was a some- 
 what cool subject for Hamilton's camaraderie, 
 but was, as that gentleman remarked, " a con- 
 founded sight better than nobody." The young 
 man hung about them while they remained in Phil- 
 adelphia, and a few days after they reached the 
 seaside he joined them. He explained, with some 
 embarrassment, that he was awaiting the arrival 
 of his mother, who expected to place his sister at 
 boarding-school in New York, and would return 
 home to Chilounatti with him. 
 
 What attracted him was soon apparent enough.
 
 FELICIA. 125 
 
 He made no attempt at subterfuge after that si- 
 mulacrum of an explanation of his presence. He 
 was constantly at Felicia's side. He brought her 
 books and flowers. He arranged sailing expedi- 
 tions. They often rode down the avenues, kalei- 
 doscopic with the pageantry of vehicles and eques- 
 trians that defiled between the palpitating sea and 
 the long line of big hotels, with their fluttering 
 flags, and clanging bands, and flower-like groups 
 of women and children bedecking the piazzas. 
 She wondered at his persistence. She had not 
 intentionally given him reason to persist. When, 
 however, a man interprets himself as the expres- 
 sion of his highest ideal, the translation acquires 
 so much dignity that it is not very difficult for him 
 to believe his version is accepted by others. Feli- 
 cia found it less annoying to maintain a state of 
 seeming acquiescence than to give herself the lux- 
 ury of indulging her irritability. To make sar- 
 castic speeches to him involved the necessity of 
 reparation, retraction ; and this sort of tact re- 
 quired rapid and fatiguing thought. After some 
 experimenting, she discovered that it was not im- 
 possible to induce him to talk much on subjects 
 that interested him. He was a man of taste, to a 
 certain degree, and would not intentionally have 
 indulged in monologue ; but she was adroit, and 
 so managed that he was not consciously egotistic. 
 She found, too, that she could give him a modicum 
 of attention, enough to apprehend his talk, the 
 surface of her mind, so to speak, while along the
 
 126 FELICIA. 
 
 deeper current swept her own absorbing reflec- 
 tions. How was he to suspect this dual process ? 
 Her violet eyes would rest softly on his face ; her 
 lips would part now and then with her enchant- 
 ing smile ; she would occasionally utter some per- 
 tinent comment, or a judicious word of acquies- 
 cence or dissent ; and he was satisfied. He told 
 stories of his college days, generally stories of 
 intellectual triumph ; for he had been a shining 
 light, and was proud of his record. There were 
 even a few animated contes of "rushes" and haz- 
 ing ; but he evidently looked on this as youthful 
 frivolity, and unworthy, from his present plane of 
 development. Sometimes he chose deeper themes, 
 and instructed her on subjects of national and 
 scientific importance ; and then Felicia found it 
 necessary to rouse herself from her mental trance, 
 and lure him from what she might have termed 
 " Pliny " to his own immediate personal interests. 
 This pleased him, as it might have pleased a wiser 
 man. 
 
 Strangers looked on as at the presentation of a 
 romance. The two were the noticeable couple of 
 the place, that summer : she with her delicate yet 
 brilliant beauty ; he with his cold, narrow, intelli- 
 gent face, his clear eyes, his formal manner, his 
 evident devotion. After all, this world is very 
 sentimental. It was a presidential election year ; 
 there was a war in Europe ; the races were in 
 progress: but during the stay of the Hamilton 
 party, all other themes yielded in interest to the 
 love-affair.
 
 FELICIA. 127 
 
 John Hamilton was puzzled. " Is she in ear- 
 nest, or jnst giving Grafton a chance to make an 
 idiot of himself? " he asked his wife. There was 
 complacence in his face and in his heart, though 
 he tried to moderate it. " That girl looks well in 
 a boat, and well when she dances, and well when 
 she drives, and well on a horse. I taught her my- 
 self to ride, and I 'm proud of the job. She was 
 always a plucky little thing from the first time I 
 tossed her in a saddle, the day she was four years 
 old. When they started, just now, her horse 
 shied, and Grafton's heart was in his mouth, but 
 she, she was as calm as a May morning. Graf- 
 ton is not a bad match, and he 's a right good 
 fellow, too. Maybe we were mistaken about the 
 other affair, Sophie." 
 
 " I dare say we were," said Sophie, hopefully. 
 Her conscience was all right. She believed ex- 
 actly what her husband wished to believe. 
 
 " She is rather sharp to Grafton, now and 
 then," continued Hamilton, meditatively, " sar- 
 castic and that sort of thing." 
 
 " Sometimes a girl treats a man that way when 
 she likes him," said wise Mrs. Sophie. 
 
 He turned this over in his mind a moment, as 
 he sat tilted back in his chair and pulled his long 
 yellow mustache ; his straw hat, pushed far back, 
 revealed his bald head, and his blue eyes were 
 fixed on that section of the big blue sea where a 
 shadowy white sail defined itself daintily against 
 the soft horizon.
 
 128 FELICIA. 
 
 " I think you mean when she is sure he likes 
 her" quoth John Hamilton, astutely. He was 
 disposed to be particularly complaisant to Felicia 
 now ; but his incipient benignity received a sud- 
 den check. 
 
 On the evening before the day set for the de- 
 parture of the Hamilton party, the two young 
 people strolled out on the broad deserted piazza. 
 The salt breeze blew crisp and fresh from the 
 ocean ; the band was playing, the rhythmic 
 beat of a waltz fell on the air ; a lane of molten 
 gold lay on the surface of the water, and was lost 
 in vague shadows far away ; a big, red, distorted 
 moon was tilted above the illimitable palpitating 
 waste. 
 
 " A waning moon is so melancholy," said Fe- 
 licia, looking at it with wide, soft eyes that had 
 grown melancholy, too. " I wonder why ? " 
 
 " I don't see that it is melancholy," Grafton 
 declared. 
 
 " No, I suppose not," she rejoined. " I dare 
 say you see a planet which suggests to you apogee, 
 or perigee, or nodes, or something wise. I see 
 only the rising moon, and it seems to me particu- 
 larly ominous to-night. I am afraid. Something 
 unexpected perhaps something terrible is go- 
 ing to happen." 
 
 She affected to shiver with fear ; then, as the 
 breeze freshened, she shivered a little in reality, 
 and drew about her head the fleecy wrap she had 
 brought out with her. He rose from his chair
 
 FELICIA. 129 
 
 and deftly arranged it. " That will do," she said, 
 shrinking from him. He thought this a little 
 shyness. He had been flattered, as he often was, 
 by her allusion to his superior intellectual gifts 
 and culture ; he could not discern the mockery. 
 It was his nature, however, even in satisfaction 
 and complacence, to lay down the law, to dictate, 
 to assert his supremacy. 
 
 " You seem a little superstitious," he suggested. 
 
 " Oh, yes, very," replied Felicia, as if admit- 
 ting something creditable. 
 
 " Pardon me," he said with the precision of 
 intonation, indicative of displeasure, which she 
 especially disliked, " pardon me if I do not 
 accept that assurance. No well-regulated mind 
 is capable of such weakness as superstition." 
 
 " I have told you before that I have n't a well- 
 regulated mind," replied Felicia composedly. 
 " On the contrary, I am rather goosey in my 
 mind." 
 
 He deemed this tone inexcusably frivolous. 
 But then she was so pretty, so pretty, as she 
 sat in a peculiarly graceful attitude, thrown back 
 at her ease, one arm hanging over the side of the 
 cane chair, the other hand holding the white wrap 
 about her throat, the outlines of her rounded yet 
 slight figure, in its dress of some soft white woolen 
 fabric, definite against the shadows. He had 
 never seen her so unconsti-ained ; their interview 
 seemed all at once peculiarly informal. He had 
 supposed that he particularly approved of a cer-
 
 130 FELICIA. 
 
 tain ceremoniousness in her manner, a matter of 
 attitude, of gesture, of intonation, indefinable yet 
 definite, like the perfume of a flower ; now he had 
 a swift realization how potent must be her charm 
 in the untrammeled ease of home-life. This sud- 
 den sense of closeness quickened his pulse, but he 
 did not lose his head. Alfred Grafton in love was 
 still Alfred Grafton. 
 
 " You do yourself injustice," he said. " I am 
 sure you have a very well-regulated mind. Other- 
 wise I could not feel toward you as I do." 
 
 She roused herself from her easy attitude, and 
 turned her eyes upon him. He was perfectly 
 self-possessed and confident, even expectant. She 
 was sitting upright now ; she opened her fan ; she 
 looked back at the moon. The delightful vague 
 sense of familiarity with which the previous mo- 
 ment had been filled had suddenly vanished. 
 
 " I suppose I ought to pretend that I don't 
 understand what you mean," she said with cold- 
 ness. 
 
 " It is better to be perfectly frank," he re- 
 joined, with his air of laying down valuable moral 
 axioms. 
 
 " Well, then, frankly," returned Felicia, " I do 
 know what you mean, and I think you had better 
 say no more about it." 
 
 There was dead silence. When she glanced at 
 him, she was startled by the change in his face. 
 All this time, absorbed in her own suffering, she 
 had taken no thought of his capacity for suffering.
 
 FELICIA. 131 
 
 " Do you understand " he uttered the words 
 slowly " that I ask you to marry me ? You 
 have long known that I love you." 
 
 There was another silence. 
 
 " It can never be," said Felicia. 
 
 As she again met his eyes, she saw that he was 
 not only bitterly wounded, but very angry. She 
 was surprised to find how deprecatory she felt. 
 At his first word of blame, however, her self-re- 
 proach vanished. 
 
 " If your own conscience does not accuse you," 
 he said, his face was white, and set, and stern ; 
 he articulated with difficulty, "I need urge 
 nothing." 
 
 " Accuse me ? Of what ? " she demanded in 
 a voice that trembled a little. 
 
 " Of trifling with me. In courtesy, I will not 
 say willfully deceiving me, but I did not expect 
 this answer." 
 
 " You do me great injustice ! " cried Felicia. 
 " I have accepted your attention as I would that 
 of any other friend, especially if thrown together 
 in this way, so far from home. I did not think 
 of anything like like this, till to-night. I had 
 other things to to think of. Whatever I have 
 done, I have not encouraged you ! " 
 
 " You have encouraged some one, then ? " he 
 said quickly. 
 
 She looked at him angrily, but checked the 
 reply on her lips, and turned her eyes again to 
 the quivering, shining sea.
 
 132 FELICIA. 
 
 " Pardon me ; I have no right to ask," he re- 
 sumed, with sarcastic humility. " I have no right 
 to do anything but endure, when a woman lets me 
 dangle around her for weeks, and then calmly 
 tells me that she did not imagine anything like 
 this. I supposed my meaning was distinct enough. 
 I think it probable that most people have appre- 
 hended it." 
 
 Felicia made a mistake. 
 
 " And if I had understood," she cried, " how 
 could I have altered matters? I cannot be ex- 
 pected to refuse a man before he has offered him- 
 self." 
 
 " A sophism is ample justification for a social 
 triumph, such as it is," he said sarcastically. 
 " To my mind it is a poor enough triumph, but 
 no doubt a young lady estimates such matters dif- 
 ferently." 
 
 " I did not think of it in that way," she de- 
 clared. 
 
 There was another long silence. All at once 
 she looked at him with an almost piteous appeal 
 in her face ; tears stood in her eyes ; a tremulous 
 smile was on her lips. 
 
 " Don't let us quarrel," she said coaxingly. 
 " Let us be friends again." 
 
 Even Alfred Grafton was not proof against 
 that look. He faltered ; he was mollified ; he 
 took her soft little hand and held it closely. But 
 he was not the man to be cajoled into accepting 
 half a loaf for a whole one.
 
 FELICIA. 133 
 
 " You and I cannot be ' friends,' " he replied. 
 " It is everything or nothing. Now let us look 
 at this matter calmly. I love you dearly. I can 
 safely promise to make you happy. Our tastes 
 are similar ; my people would be very fond of 
 you ; I think your brother would not object." 
 
 " And I should not care if he did object ! " 
 cried Felicia fierily, suddenly drawing away her 
 hand. " He is welcome to object as much as he 
 chooses. He shall not interfere with my affairs." 
 
 Grafton looked hard at her. Her tears had 
 risen again, but they were angry tears. She 
 brushed them away with an impatient gesture; 
 he saw them glisten, in the moonlight, on her 
 filmy handkerchief. His white heat of rage had 
 returned. " I see," he said slowly, " there is 
 some one else." 
 
 Felicia rose. " It is growing cold," she de- 
 clared. " I must go in." They walked down 
 the piazza toward the parlor. He stopped her 
 before they reached the open door, and looked 
 down into her uplifted eyes. 
 
 "'I shall never forgive you," he said deliber- 
 ately. " I shall always believe you did it inten- 
 tionally." 
 
 " You will think better of that some day," re- 
 plied Felicia, appalled by the strength of a feel- 
 ing that had seemed to her a slight thing, that 
 had hardly sufficiently attracted her notice to 
 secure intelligent contemplation. 
 
 " I shall never forgive you," he repeated.
 
 134 FELICIA. 
 
 Late that night, John Hamilton, coming from 
 the billiard-room where he had been enjoying the 
 unwonted luxury of a game with an old friend, 
 a man like himself adrift in this sea of strangers, 
 who almost wept for joy at sight of that familiar 
 roseate face and rotund figure, late that night, 
 Hamilton, coming thus from the billiard-room, 
 flushed with success, perfumed with sherry cobbler 
 and cigar smoke, suddenly met Alfred Grafton. 
 The younger gentleman was evidently ready for 
 a journey. He was wearing his traveling gear ; 
 his name was conspicuous on a trunk among other 
 luggage awaiting the baggage -wagon. A bell- 
 boy preceded him with a satchel. He looked an- 
 noyed at sight of his friend, but faced the situ- 
 ation with composure. 
 
 "Hello! Where are you going, Grafton?" 
 inquired Hamilton, with round eyes. 
 
 " To Philadelphia," replied Grafton. 
 
 John Hamilton reflected rapidly. 
 
 " Anything the matter ? " he asked tersely. 
 
 Grafton, strange as it may seem, shared our 
 common human weakness. He craved sympathy 
 with the eager craving of less gifted mortals. He 
 realized, too, that there was no use in attempting 
 subterfuges with Hamilton, who would no doubt 
 soon be perfectly well aware, without explanation, 
 of the state of the case. 
 
 " The matter ! " he repeated bitterly. " She 
 has thrown me over, that 's all." 
 
 " The devil she did ! " exclaimed the brother, 
 with lively sympathy.
 
 FELICIA. 135 
 
 " Did n't suspect my feelings hopes we shall 
 be friends all very proper and pretty," re- 
 turned Grafton sardonically. " I ventured to 
 suggest, by way of inducement, which my case 
 seemed to need, that my people would be de- 
 lighted, and that I thought you would not object. 
 She said, very angrily, that she did not care if 
 you did object. I fancy there is some man to 
 whom you do object. Stop ! " he cried, as Ham- 
 ilton was about to speak excitedly. " I have no 
 right to know. I have no right to revert to that, 
 it is none of my affair. My affair is over- 
 board, and I have no more to say or hear on the 
 subject." 
 
 When John Hamilton repaired to his own 
 apartment, it was all his wife could do to prevent 
 his arousing Felicia from her bed, in the small 
 hours, to give her what he termed a " solid talk." 
 It was owing, too, to Sophie that this was warded 
 off the following day, on their railway trip to 
 New York. She made pretext after pretext to 
 detain him by her side ; whenever she saw him 
 look with a scowling intention across the car to 
 where Felicia and Fred sat together, she evolved 
 some immediate and absorbing subject of interest. 
 Here was a letter about which she had spoken to 
 him, or indeed had she remembered to mention 
 it ? from the carpet - manufactory people ; he 
 must read it, and help her decide. And again, 
 oh, had he seen the baby kiss her hand ? She 
 did it this morning. " Kiss your hand, darling, 
 to papa."
 
 136 FELICIA. 
 
 These tactics were kept up after taking the 
 boat. He escaped, however, just before reaching 
 New York, and joined Felicia, as she stood with 
 her eyes fixed on the vast spectacle of the great 
 city, its innumerable spires glittering in the sun- 
 shine, its hovering smoke a shadow in the dis- 
 tance against the intense blue of the sky, its forest 
 of shipping also only a dainty shadow. The 
 breeze swept over the intervenient spaces of the 
 sea, and brought briny odors ; it flushed Felicia's 
 cheeks, and blew backward the draperies of her 
 trim traveling dress, and waved the brown feather 
 in the jaunty hat that surmounted her brown hair. 
 She glanced up as her brother placed himself be- 
 side her. He had pushed his hat back, and an 
 expanse of bald forehead was aggressively visible ; 
 his hands were in his trousers pockets ; he wore a 
 natty suit in shaded gray checks, which was very 
 becoming to his richly tinted face. 
 
 " What did you do to Graf ton, Felicia ? " he 
 demanded curtly. 
 
 " Has he a black eye ? I suppose I must have 
 given it to him." 
 
 " I am astonished at you," her brother con- 
 tinued severely. " Leading a fellow on and flirt- 
 ing ! I had no idea that you were such a flirt." 
 
 As a matter of course she resented this. " How 
 dare you say that to me ! " she exclaimed, her 
 eyes flashing, her cheeks aflame. 
 
 " I understand how all this comes about," per- 
 sisted the misguided brother ; " it is all on ac- 
 count of that fellow Kennett."
 
 FELICIA. 137 
 
 " You shall not speak of him to me ! " she cried, 
 turning away. 
 
 " See here, young lady," persisted Hamilton, 
 laying his hand oil her shoulder, " father is going 
 to meet us in New York, and we shall see what 
 he will say to these vagaries. He will take your 
 case in hand." 
 
 She drew herself away, and walked proudly to 
 the other end of the boat. These unlucky stric- 
 tures completed an estrangement already suffi- 
 ciently bitter. She felt that she could never forgive 
 him. She was placed before the beginning of a 
 contest with her father in the mental attitude of 
 resistance. She promised herself she would not 
 be cowed. And yet, a contest about what ? 
 About her acquaintance with a man whose friend- 
 ship she could hardly claim, who had forgotten 
 her, who had ignored her letter. Her heart was 
 bruised, sore, unendurably heavy ; she had much 
 ado to refrain from tears, from crying out in 
 her pain, humiliation, and despair, as they dis- 
 embarked, entered a carriage, and rolled along 
 the interminable streets to their hotel. 
 
 It was in this frame of mind that Felicia came 
 upon the turning-point of her life. 
 
 The rooms had been engaged by telegraph some 
 days before. As she entered the one assigned 
 her, she noticed a quantity of mail matter on the 
 bureau. One of the letters was directed in a 
 handwriting she did not recognize. The envel- 
 ope was covered with addresses : it had been sent
 
 138 FELICIA. 
 
 first to her own home, thence to her brother's 
 house in Chilounatti, and had afterward evidently 
 followed her from place to place. Still in her 
 hat and wraps, she sat down with it in her hand. 
 
 Before she opened it she divined who was the 
 writer. She attempted to collect her startled fac- 
 ulties. For some moments she remained motion- 
 less. Then she opened and read the letter. It 
 was dated six weeks before. 
 
 Hugh Kennett began by explaining that he 
 had been greatly troubled by her sudden depar- 
 ture ; all the more because he was very anxious to 
 say to her what he had attempted to say the af- 
 ternoon before she left, that he loved her, and 
 desired to ask her to be his wife. He feared his 
 effort was somewhat premature, in view of their 
 short acquaintance, but he would be only too happy 
 to submit to any term of probation she might 
 require. He would ask nothing except the oppor- 
 tunity to make himself acceptable to her. He 
 hoped for a reply and gave an address in Chilou- 
 natti, as well as in New York, to which latter city 
 he was going in a few weeks. He added that he 
 should send this letter to her home, as he had not 
 been able to obtain her present address. There 
 was little of protestation. The phrasing was 
 extremely simple ; it was almost business-like. 
 Felicia thought it a very strong and manly way 
 to write a love-letter ; she fancied she detected a 
 ring of tense feeling in the few terse sentences ; 
 she said to herself that it was perfectly in charac- 
 ter, like everything he did.
 
 FELICIA. 139 
 
 With the sudden revulsion of feeling an ex- 
 treme tranquillity had come upon her. It amazed 
 her now that she had not divined the exact state 
 of the case ; that she had not had more patience, 
 more confidence, more strength. She took her- 
 self to task for not comprehending him better. 
 The memory of the anguish of soul induced by 
 those weeks of domestic discord she dismissed 
 from consideration with a contemptuous indiffer- 
 ence, which argued ill enough for the influence, 
 in a possible contest, of the natural strong ties of 
 kindred and association. 
 
 " Was I insane," she demanded of herself, 
 " that I should have cared an instant for anything 
 John and Sophie could do, or think, or say ? " 
 
 Only one influence prevailed with her now. 
 She gave herself up to it ; she sank into a vague, 
 delicious reverie. She recalled, as heretofore she 
 had not dared to do, all the incidents of those 
 happy weeks in the early summer, the introduc- 
 tion at Robert's, the rowing on the sunset-tinted 
 river, the long talks in the quiet moonlit evenings, 
 the tones of his voice, the look in his eyes, the 
 words he had spoken. How strange that she re- 
 membered them so well! They were not such 
 wonderfully wise and witty words, she said to her- 
 self, with a happy laugh ; she knew in her heart 
 that she believed them to be both. And she could 
 write to him. She would see him soon. Possi- 
 bly he was in New York, somewhere near to her, 
 now. In a few days it might be a few hours 
 and then and then
 
 140 FELICIA. 
 
 Sophie, coming to her door after a time, was 
 greatly surprised to see her still sitting motion- 
 less in her traveling attire ; but she sank into 
 a chair, and waited while Felicia hurriedly re- 
 arranged her hair and changed her dress. Mrs. 
 Hamilton's face was flushed and her manner dis- 
 composed. 
 
 " Oh, Felicia, I am so annoyed ! " she ex- 
 claimed. " All my plans are in confusion ; and 
 it is John's fault. You know the Graftons are 
 here, at this hotel." 
 
 The brush, gliding along Felicia's bronze 
 tresses, was arrested ; she met her sister-in-law's 
 eyes in the mirror with an inquiring stare. 
 
 "You know," continued the speaker. "Alfred 
 was to meet them here, but but " she stum- 
 bled " but for some reason he has gone to Phil- 
 adelphia, and telegraphed to his mother to join 
 him there next week. Well, Mrs. Grafton is a 
 good deal put out, naturally, you see." 
 
 " Really, Sophie," said Felicia with a hard 
 laugh, " you have a large contract on your hands, 
 if you undertake to become responsible for all of 
 Alfred Grafton's movements, perfect as he is." 
 
 " Of course that 's not it. But while she was 
 sitting in our parlor fretting about it, Nellie, her 
 daughter, happened to say she should not have 
 cared except that Alfred had promised to take 
 her to some operatic rnatinee this afternoon. She 
 is to be left with Madame Sevier on Monday, 
 and she seems to think this is her last chance to 
 go to any place of amusement."
 
 FELICIA. 141 
 
 "She will see more opera in one term with 
 Madame Sevier than with Alfred Grafton in ten 
 million years," declared Felicia, hyperbolically. 
 " I wonder that he encouraged the frivolity of one 
 matinee. She ought to be reading about Cosmic 
 Force." 
 
 " She seems to think Madame Sevier's is a sort 
 of nunnery. And John, instead of leaving well 
 enough alone, sent a bell-boy off and bought 
 tickets, and said she should n't be disappointed." 
 
 " Lucky for Miss Nellie," remarked Felicia, 
 coolly. " I don't perceive the hitch." 
 
 " Why, Felicia, can't you understand ? /can't 
 go with them. I must see West and Ware about 
 the drawing-room lambrequins that we ordered 
 when we were here before. A most frightful 
 mistake has been made. They are half an inch 
 too short. I have just received a note about it. 
 Oh, if I had it all to do over, I would buy every 
 solitary thing at home. Such a forlorn, toilsome 
 summer I have had. And just think how per- 
 verse John is ! As soon as he found that I 
 could n't go he managed to call me into the other 
 room, and swore most frightfully, too that 
 he would n't go to a matinee this afternoon to 
 save his life. Oh, Felicia, dear, don't you think 
 you and Fred will do ? Won't it be appropriate 
 enough if you and Fred represent the family ? 
 I must see about my lambrequins. If my lambre- 
 quins are spoiled, my heart will break/' She 
 rose from her chair and walked precipitately
 
 142 FELICIA. 
 
 about the room. Domestic tragedy has its oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 Felicia was disconcerted. She had not intended 
 to answer the letter to-day, but she wanted to 
 think it over, to get used to it ; it was so sudden, 
 so momentous. With the cessation of her own 
 anxieties, however, gentleness and tolerance had 
 come to her. " Sweet are the uses of adversity." 
 That sounds well, but it is a mistake. We are 
 beneficent when we are lucky. Felicia sacri- 
 ficed her preference with a generosity possible 
 only to the happy. 
 
 "Well, well, Sophie," she said with a sigh, 
 " I will take charge of Mrs. Grafton and her 
 daughter, and I '11 excuse you gracefully." 
 
 Mrs. Grafton was a mouse. To be sure, a 
 mouse accustomed only to the best houses, to vel- 
 vet carpets, to fine china and linen and glass, to 
 sweetbreads and cake crumbs, a mouse of the 
 first quality, but still and always a mouse. She 
 was swift, daring, timorous, cringing, bullying, 
 indefinite, by turns and as occasion justified. 
 You never knew exactly where to find her, like 
 a mouse, yet you were very sure she would 
 have a distinct personality when you did en- 
 counter her. Sometimes you would be positive 
 she was in your immediate vicinity, and she was 
 as far from you in effect as at one of the poles. 
 When you lost sight of her and well-nigh forgot 
 her existence, here she was, again just like a 
 mouse, startling you out of your senses. You
 
 FELICIA. 143 
 
 were always absorbed in amazement that any- 
 thing so insignificant could be so aggravating. 
 She even looked like a mouse, as she sat on a 
 sofa, in a dove-colored dress and a lace cap orna- 
 mented with dove-colored ribbons ; and her ac- 
 knowledgment of the introduction of Felicia was 
 the perfection of furtive meekness. There was in 
 her glance something as well of analytic scrutiny, 
 and this in her daughter an awkward girl, at 
 once shy and forward had developed into down- 
 right curiosity, as she stared at Felicia with hard 
 black eyes. Our young lady had a sudden rush 
 of indignation, divining that the son of the house 
 had written of his pretensions much as if they 
 were unfait accompli. She controlled her irrita- 
 tion, however, and entered with what zest she 
 might into the afternoon's festivities, making 
 Sophie's excuses with such tact that the two 
 ladies willingly overlooked the informality of Mrs. 
 Hamilton's absence ; and after lunch the party 
 set out, with Fred as escort. 
 
 " Fred will be entirely au fait by the time he 
 gets home," remarked Felicia. " He learned all 
 about natural science at Philadelphia, and navi- 
 gation at the seashore, and hunting in the Adiron- 
 dacks, and now he is to become a connoisseur in 
 music and acting." 
 
 "I'd a big sight ruther go ter the dime mu- 
 seum," grumbled Fred, " an' see the tattooed man 
 an' the three-headed lady." 
 
 Felicia's silvery laughter had an infectious joy-
 
 144 FELICIA. 
 
 ousness it had not known for many a day. Mrs. 
 Grafton wondered, however, if she were not a little 
 flippant for Alfred, who was so difficult to please. 
 
 " It is always well to learn, Fred," observed the 
 old lady, meekly, smoothing one gloved hand with 
 the other ; " we can learn something almost any- 
 where/' 
 
 " So I tell him," said Felicia, commanding her 
 countenance with an effort, at the sound of Fred's 
 unintelligible muttered reply. 
 
 That afternoon, contrary to her anticipation, 
 afforded her keen delight. She had expected to 
 be bored ; she was, instead, in a sort of exalta- 
 tion. The sudden removal of trouble, in itself 
 cause for happiness, supplemented more tangible 
 cause, so deep, so strong, that she dared not dwell 
 definitely upon it ; she only felt herself vaguely, 
 blissfully, drifting like a leaf upon the current. 
 The large assemblage of unknown, unnumbered 
 faces strangely exhilarated her, but she did not, 
 according to her mental habit, disintegrate the 
 crowd. Ordinarily, she knew in five minutes 
 or thought she did those whom she was wont to 
 call " interesting," those who were mere human 
 animals, those who had been lifted from that plane 
 by some drama of their circumstances. The 
 young man at the end of the next row, she would 
 have said, would be a commonplace banker or 
 lawyer but for some daily heart tragedy, a 
 broken ambition, a wretched home. And there is 
 a woman with a face like sunshine, one feels
 
 FELICIA. 145 
 
 sure she has a nature to match. That old gentle- 
 man has little capacity save for the exercise of 
 piling cent per cent on brain and heart. And 
 there is another old gentleman, sixty in years and 
 twenty-five of soul, with a benignant smile and a 
 buttonhole bouquet. She made no deductions 
 now ; she saw them as if she saw them not ; she 
 had appropriate words and smiles for her compan- 
 ions ; in her deeper consciousness she ignored 
 their existence. She looked about her with 
 dreamy, brilliant, happy eyes ; she sat very still ; 
 her voice was soft ; her lips wore gentle curves 
 that expressed a still and blissful content. 
 
 Mrs. Grafton, scanning her furtively, admitted 
 to herself that Alfred's choice was very satisfac- 
 tory, so far as appearances went. Felicia was 
 pretty and distinguished in manner, and perfectly 
 dressed ; and if Madame Sevier had taught her 
 those attitudes and that poise of head, as easily 
 erect as a flower on a stem, it was well to have 
 selected Sevier Institute for Nellie, who would 
 lounge and would n't hold up her shoulders. As 
 for Nellie, she gazed at Felicia with the definite 
 intention of discovering the charm of a young 
 lady who had secured the ultimate object, in her 
 opinion, of a woman's creation, a lover. Nel- 
 lie's vanity was sufficiently stalwart. She did not 
 comprehend how Felicia managed to be fascinat- 
 ing, but she was fully persuaded that in, time she 
 herself would discover the secret and use it as 
 successfully.
 
 146 FELICIA. 
 
 The curtain rose after a little, and the audience 
 went for a time into that strange, delightful world 
 where destinies round themselves in an hour or 
 two ; where trials accent triumphs ; where virtue 
 is lovely and prevails, and vice is odious and is 
 defeated ; where retribution and reward come up 
 smiling in the nick of time, and life is dignified, 
 picturesque, consistent, and grand, and very much 
 more worth living, ideally speaking, than our 
 poor little affair, which it modestly proposes to 
 portray. 
 
 The troupe was good, but not preeminently 
 excellent ; the music was well within the powers 
 of the singers ; the stage-setting, costumes, and 
 the chorus were admirable. Felicia, in her ab- 
 sorption, was vaguely responsive to the music, 
 which pervaded her consciousness as the perfume 
 of violets pervades a May afternoon. Like most 
 clever amateurs, she had not been scientifically 
 trained ; she experienced no want which these 
 melodious numbers could not satisfy ; she did not 
 partake of the musician's intellectual and some- 
 what strenuous enjoyment ; she merely absorbed 
 the representation with more or less vividness 
 through her senses. 
 
 As the building was greatly crowded, it was 
 some little time before they made their way out. 
 Nellie, who between the acts had become some- 
 what well acquainted with her new friend, com- 
 mented on the performance with her own inimita- 
 ble admixture of forwardness and shyness.
 
 FELICIA. 147 
 
 " Oh, my, was n't it lovely ! " she exclaimed, 
 with a fidgety giggle of delight and embarrass- 
 ment, as they passed out upon the sidewalk, al- 
 ready dusky with deepening twilight and en- 
 veloped with the gloom of low hanging clouds. 
 " Oh, was n't that last duet too beautiful ! And 
 the tenor, oh, Miss Hamilton, I 'm dead in love 
 with that tenor, ain't you ? " 
 
 " The tenor is most admirable," returned Feli- 
 cia, sedately, not entering into the spirit of her 
 prattle. 
 
 As she said this Felicia chanced to raise her 
 eyes. They encountered those of a gentleman 
 who was standing in the brilliant radiance of the 
 electric light. He lifted his hat, and she recog- 
 nized Hugh Kennett. She returned his saluta- 
 tion. She observed that his face was very grave. 
 The agitation which she had unconsciously held 
 in abeyance all day was upon her with such inten- 
 sity that she could not distinguish if it were plea- 
 sure or pain. When they reached the hotel, and 
 her companions had repaired to their own rooms, 
 she opened the door of the private parlor her 
 brother had taken. It was empty. She entered, 
 sank into a chair, and attempted to rally her 
 self-control, so strangely and suddenly vanished. 
 Her breath was coming quick through her half- 
 parted lips; her face was suffused with a deep 
 blush ; she removed her hat, its weight was all 
 at once unendurably oppressive ; she fixed her 
 feverishly bright eyes on the dark, moonless, star-
 
 148 FELICIA. 
 
 less sky. As she thus sat motionless in the centre 
 of the lighted room, there was a knock upon the 
 door, and a servant entered with a card. She 
 looked at it in silence for a moment, then said, 
 " You can show the gentleman in." 
 
 When Kennett was ushered into the room, she 
 rose, and advanced hesitatingly a few steps. She 
 was turning the card nervously in her fingers; 
 the gesture was in marked contrast with her usual 
 self-possessed manner ; her face betrayed some of 
 the agitation which she sought to control. 
 
 " I am glad to see you," she murmured. 
 
 Kennett took her hand. " That gives me cour- 
 age," he said. " Did you receive my letter?" 
 
 " I received it only this morning," she replied. 
 
 " Only this morning ! " he cried, in dismay. 
 
 " It had been to a great many places," said 
 Felicia. " It had been following us for weeks." 
 
 He was at once infinitely disappointed and re- 
 lieved. " I could not believe you would inten- 
 tionally keep me in suspense," he declared. 
 
 " And you were in suspense, too ! " cried Feli- 
 cia, impulsively, with a sudden delighted realiza- 
 tion of the fact. 
 
 "Were you?" he exclaimed, quickly. "Did 
 you want to hear from me, to see me again ? It 
 is asking a great deal, I know, Felicia, but won't 
 you give me an answer to my letter now ? I love 
 you with all my soul. I have undergone the tor- 
 ments of of well a great deal of unhappi- 
 ness since I saw you. Can't you don't you 
 care for me ? "
 
 FELICIA. 149 
 
 He was still holding her hand ; she fixed her 
 fast-filling eyes on his eyes ; her sensitive lips 
 were quivering. 
 
 "And I have been unhappy," she said. For 
 all her tears, which presently ceased to flow, she 
 felt that there could, in the nature of things, 
 never again be unhappiness for her. She recov- 
 ered her tranquillity ; words came to her ; her 
 silvery laughter rang out. Soon she was ques- 
 tioning him as to his proceedings when he had no 
 reply to his letter ; she rejoiced to hear him say 
 that he too had been unhappy. In this she dif- 
 fered from him ; her assertion had given him a 
 keen pang. She brought him back more than 
 once to this point. 
 
 " So you were worried when you had no let- 
 ter ? " she said, with a flattered laugh that was 
 all he could reasonably desire as protestation or 
 admission. 
 
 " Worried ! " he exclaimed. " I was nearly out 
 of my mind. I wrote again and again to Robert, 
 and I cannot possibly account for it I have 
 never received a reply from him. Finally I went 
 to your brother's office, in Third Street.*' 
 
 " For what ? " she demanded. 
 
 " To discover if they had your address." 
 
 " Away down there, among the bulls, and 
 bears, and other wild animals ! " she cried, with 
 her happy laughter. " That was romantic and 
 thrilling." 
 
 " It was not very congruous, I admit, but it
 
 150 FELICIA. 
 
 was my only chance. Your brother's partner de- 
 clined to give me your address." 
 
 She stared at him ; his eye glittered ; his lips 
 were compressed ; his face, with the expression it 
 wore at this moment, had a certain ferocity. He 
 was evidently very angry, and controlled himself 
 only by a strenuous effort. 
 
 " Mr. Gale did that ? " said Felicia, in amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 " He was very polite in manner, but very firm. 
 He said he had your brother's express instruc- 
 tions that in case I should ask I should be re- 
 fused." 
 
 Her cheeks were aflame. " How insulting ! " 
 she cried, angrily. After a moment's reflection 
 she asked, " Why should John do such a thing as 
 that ? " She was remembering her brother's bit- 
 ter antagonism, and divined that she was coming 
 upon an explanation. 
 
 " I can only account for it upon the hypothesis 
 that he has very strong objections to my profes- 
 sion. Some people have, you know." 
 
 She looked at him with a sudden smile. "I 
 don't know," she declared, " because I don't know 
 what your profession is." 
 
 His face showed that he was startled. " How 
 can that be ? " he said. 
 
 " I never heard you speak of it," she replied, 
 growing more grave. 
 
 " Is that possible ? " he rejoined, reflectively. 
 " But surely Robert must have mentioned it ? "
 
 FELICIA. 151 
 
 "Never," she returned. "And if you don't 
 object to terminating my suspense, I should be 
 glad to know it now." 
 
 There was a pause, in which the sounds in the 
 street invaded the silence of the room.
 
 vni. 
 
 So long the silence continued, so strangely did 
 it all at once seem imbued with a momentous 
 meaning, that there was evident trepidation un- 
 derlying the impatience in Felicia's voice when 
 she again spoke. 
 
 " What is your profession ? " she asked. 
 
 " Felicia," said Kennett, looking into her eyes, 
 " I am a singer. That is my profession." 
 
 " A singer ? " she repeated, vaguely. " Do you 
 mean a professional singer ? In opera ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 She gazed at him blankly. 
 
 " Now that I think of it," he continued, " I 
 cannot remember ever mentioning it. But how 
 could I dream that you did not understand ! The 
 name is so well known. It is placarded on every 
 blank wall ; it is in every newspaper." 
 
 He glanced about him, observed the programme 
 she had thrown, with her hat, on the table, rose 
 suddenly, and walked swiftly across the room. 
 As her eyes followed him, she realized now that 
 a quality which she had thought a natural gift 
 his grace, a certain deftness and suppleness of 
 movement and attitude, and even his appropriate- 
 ness of manner was only the prosaic result of
 
 FELICIA. 153 
 
 professional training in gait and pose ; a sordid 
 acquisition, worked for, paid for, part of a stock 
 in trade, an available asset. 
 
 It was with a certain inconsequence that be- 
 cause of this utilitarian value she felt, in the 
 midst of the whirl of emotion in which she was 
 abruptly involved, a definite sharp pang, she, 
 whose talent in what might be called the art of 
 deportment had also been assiduously cultivated 
 for merely ornamental purposes. Her sudden 
 chagrin that he was thus deprived of an endow- 
 ment of aesthetic worth, with which her respectful 
 estimate had invested him, was only a sentimental 
 grief, but at the moment it was almost a sense of 
 bereavement. 
 
 He returned to his place with the programme 
 in his hand, and showed her that printed opposite 
 to Prince Roderic was the name of Hugh Kennett. 
 
 " You never heard of me ? " he asked. 
 
 There are many degrees in notability. He 
 could hardly realize it, but she never had. 
 
 " It is strange that you never heard of me," he 
 said, meditatively. " Did they never take you to 
 the opera, when you were at school here in New 
 York?" 
 
 "They took us to the Italian opera on Patti 
 nights, and when there were other great stars, and 
 they often took us to the German opera," said 
 Felicia, "but they didn't seem to well to 
 think a great deal of English light opera." 
 
 He was a polite man, and, what is more to the
 
 154 FELICIA. 
 
 purpose, he was in love. He did not openly 
 sneer, " Fine judges ! " but there was much of re- 
 sentful protest in the sarcastic gleam in his eye. 
 
 " You did not know me, then, this afternoon, in 
 costume?" he resumed. 
 
 " No," said Felicia, faintly. 
 
 " And you did not recognize my voice ? " 
 
 " No ; I never heard you sing." 
 
 " But sometimes there is speaking." 
 
 " I remember that once or twice when he spoke 
 when you spoke I was affected strangely, 
 but I only thought it was a resemblance. I did 
 not dream of anything more. How could I ! 
 Then the singing recommenced, and I began to 
 think about about something else. I did not 
 even look at that programme. My mind was ab- 
 sorbed. I did not notice anything very much." 
 
 " I thought I spoke of my profession to your 
 brother, the evening I was introduced to him, 
 though 1 had no definite purpose in doing so. I 
 supposed he knew all about it, as a matter of 
 course." 
 
 " You merely mentioned business." 
 
 After a pause he said : 
 
 "I knew you this afternoon, in a moment, 
 among all those people. As soon as the perform- 
 ance was over I changed my dress as quickly as 
 possible, and hurried to the street in the hope of 
 seeing you. And when you said to your young 
 friend that you considered the tenor most admi- 
 rable I overheard it. I thought you felt that you
 
 FELICIA. 155 
 
 had treated me badly in not answering my letter, 
 and wanted me to hear it. I thought you said it 
 under a sudden impulse to make amends." 
 
 " Oh, no, no. I did n't imagine that you were 
 the tenor. It was the merest accident." 
 
 There was another pause. Then he took her 
 hand. " You are not going to let this come be- 
 tween us? "he said. "There are singers and 
 singers. I have a very respectable place. I may 
 say without vanity that* I stand high. I expect 
 to stand much higher." 
 
 He lifted his head with a quick movement ; his 
 eyes were alight. 
 
 " I shall do some good work ! " he exclaimed, 
 the tense vibration of elation in his expressive 
 voice. " Some day I shall sing the great Wag- 
 nerian tenor roles as they have never yet been 
 sung. I don't talk and boast beforehand, but I 
 will do much to be proud of. So far I have only 
 lacked fair opportunities, but they will come ; and 
 I am ready for them." 
 
 That latent capacity for expression, ordinarily 
 not niore than suggested in his severely regular 
 features, was distinctly manifest now. His face 
 was transfigured with the light, the hope, the ex- 
 ultation, upon it. He wore the look of a man 
 on the verge of achievement, perchance on 
 the threshold of some discovery in physics which 
 was to revolutionize mechanical science ; or thus, 
 perhaps, might look a general suddenly evolving 
 a feat of strategy whereby the enemy would be
 
 156 FELICIA. 
 
 surrounded, a statesman holding the destiny of a 
 nation in his hand. 
 
 So intent of purpose, so prescient of success, so 
 reverent of faith in the worthiness of those aims 
 he held dear, was his face with that expression 
 upon it, she might only gaze at him in wonder. 
 
 She had as much of fashionable musical feeling 
 as might remain to her of her fashionable musical 
 education. She might speak knowingly, in the 
 estimation of unmusical people, of notable pro- 
 ductions. If in those moonlit evening talks they 
 had ever chanced on the subject, it might have 
 amused him to have heard her prattle enriched 
 by such expressions as " tone color," " close har- 
 mony," " technique," " phrasing," " contrapuntal 
 effect." In her naive assumption of dilettanteism 
 she was perfectly sincere. With the happy con- 
 fidence of ignorance she fancied she knew some- 
 thing of the art ; she even had some faint idea 
 that as a science it held certain values, perhaps 
 important values ; she was aware that there are 
 schools and movements in varied directions ; she 
 apprehended, too, that there is an ascending scale 
 in lyric achievement, gradations, for example, 
 between the roles of Nanki Poo, Don Caesar, Man- 
 rico, Vasco di Gama, and Lohengrin. But in 
 essentials, regarded from the sensible and mun- 
 dane vantage-ground of a fine social position, with 
 the conservatism and common sense of its atmos- 
 phere and traditions, what did this amount to ? 
 They were all tenor roles, the possibility of an as-
 
 FELICIA. 157 
 
 piration infinitely removed from any sympathies, 
 except of a purely aesthetic and impersonal sort, 
 which she might be expected to entertain. That 
 such achievement might be the serious ambition, 
 invested with force, dignity, absorption, of an ear- 
 nest nature, endowed with a highly intelligent, 
 even a highly intellectual organization ; that such 
 a goal could be lifted to so elevated a plane of 
 endeavor, she first realized from the look in his 
 face. 
 
 That exultant look passed. He drew a long 
 sigh. 
 
 " Ah, well," he said, his eyes seeking hers with 
 a smile, " a wise man will not forecast futurity. 
 We had best confine our attention just now to the 
 present : that is simple and practical. The pres- 
 ent, as it happens, is sufficiently satisfactory. I 
 am in demand with managers. I get a good sal- 
 ary. As to the profession " He hesitated ; 
 his color rose. " I don't apologize for the profes- 
 sion. I am not ashamed of it. Although I am a 
 singer, I hope I am a gentleman." 
 
 Felicia withdrew her hand from his. "Don't 
 argue it with me," she said. " Let me think it 
 out and decide for myself." 
 
 She crossed the room to the window, and stood 
 leaning against the frame, while he sat silent, 
 watching her. It was well fcr his peace that he 
 did not realize the struggle in the mind of Ma- 
 dame Sevier's pupil and John Hamilton's sister. 
 To admire the tenor was one thing ; to be in love
 
 158 FELICIA. 
 
 with the man was a different and a much more 
 complicated matter. Her natural bent and the ac- 
 quired influences that had made her what she was 
 placed her in revolt against this culmination. The 
 atmosphere she had breathed was as aristocratic 
 as the free air of a republic can be. She under- 
 stood remarkably well especially considering 
 the fact that she had never known their depriva- 
 tion the worth of an established position in 
 society, the value of fortune, its subtler as well as 
 its practical value. Heretofore she had been un- 
 aware that she had gauged these things, one 
 does not consciously appraise the air one breathes. 
 Now that it was brought before her she could 
 accede to the proposition without fully realizing 
 it, that outside of her world there was a world 
 with other standards of excellence, other esti- 
 mates of values, other objects of ambition. It 
 might be a very talented, highly artistic world, 
 but it was not hers. The John Hamiltons, the 
 Mrs. Stanley-Brants, the Madame Seviers, the 
 Mrs. Graftons, the code they exemplified, the 
 life they typified, the status they expressed, 
 these made her world. And even in that alien 
 sphere of his he was not eminent ; he was merely 
 a notable member of a moderately meritorious 
 organization. In a crisis like this dormant intui- 
 tions abruptly develop into knowledge. She was 
 suddenly aware that there are many gradations in 
 that world whose existence she had ignored. He 
 evidently stood high in a certain line, but his line
 
 FELICIA. 159 
 
 was not high ; possibly he would never reach any- 
 thing higher ; and he would devote all his powers 
 to the attempt. What an ambition ! What a 
 future ! To consecrate his varied and excellent 
 capacities to success in a pursuit at its best gro- 
 tesquely unworthy of them and of him ! Could 
 she share a life pledged like this ? Her pride was 
 on fire. 
 
 " Would you be willing to give it up ? " she 
 asked, without turning her head. 
 
 " My profession ? " he said, wonderingly. 
 
 She assented. There was a pause. 
 
 " Do you realize what you ask ? " he replied at 
 last. " I cannot give it up. It is my living. I 
 am fitted for nothing else. I have been in train- 
 ing for fifteen years." 
 
 Again she was silent, and he marveled that she 
 should take it so hard. He was becoming a great 
 man in his world, so like, yet so unlike, her 
 world. He was applauded and praised by the 
 public, held in respect by the magnates of his 
 craft, admired by his associates, revered by those 
 below him, whose ambition it was to have in some 
 auspicious future the opportunity to imitate him. 
 He was as far from comprehending the issues 
 which led to contemptuous aversion for his voca- 
 tion as she was from comprehending those which 
 led to pride in it. When he spoke, she detected 
 something in his voice she had never before 
 heard. 
 
 " I cannot understand why you object so seri- 
 ously," he said.
 
 160 FELICIA. 
 
 She kept her face tm-ned persistently from 
 him. She promised herself that she would not 
 be influenced. She would not be touched by his 
 sense of injury, his wounded pride. It had come 
 to a choice, that was evident ; she could not 
 hope he would relinquish his profession. And 
 the choice should be a deliberate one. 
 
 The stealthy wind was rising, hardly distin- 
 guishable above the muffled noises on the streets ; 
 the air was saturated with a heavy moisture ; the 
 mist was accented at intervals by the yellow blur 
 of the invisible lamps ; faint lightnings, fitful, 
 vague, like indefinite, piteous phantoms, skulked 
 across the black sky. And ever the treacherous 
 wind was rising. 
 
 She must choose. To give him up ? That 
 meant a great deal. She realized her inordinate 
 sensitiveness to the disposition and temperament 
 of those near to her. To be comprehended thor- 
 oughly ; to be her truest self without effort, expla- 
 nation, or qualification ; to discover in another 
 mind and heart the complement of her own 
 thought and feeling ; to experience, in thus shar- 
 ing the thought or feeling of that other mind and 
 heart, its deeper, fuller development ; to delight 
 in the delight which her presence, her words, her 
 glances, could give : to find her exacting taste 
 satisfied, her intellectual nature met on its own 
 level : to feel the hours imbued with a happiness 
 that never palled, the fulfillment of a joyous ex- 
 pectation, this was what those weeks of early
 
 FELICIA. 161 
 
 summer had given her. Having once known so 
 perfect an accord, vouchsafed to few even of the 
 most fortunate of mortals, could she, did she dare 
 to voluntarily relinquish it ? The recollection of 
 all she had endured during their separation surged 
 over her in a wave of bitterness. She remem- 
 bered, too, how needlessly and cruelly it had been 
 enhanced. But she said to herself she would be 
 dispassionate ; she would admit that her brother 
 had great cause for annoyance, disappointment, 
 even dismay, he could hardly have felt those 
 more acutely than she had done this evening ; his 
 wife might well be distressed. But what of the 
 conciliation due from a brother who loves his 
 sister ; what of the sympathy one woman gives 
 another woman's heartache ! She resolutely with- 
 drew her thoughts from this branch of the sub- 
 ject ; she would not risk her happiness, she de- 
 clared to herself, to be revenged on John and 
 Sophie by making a marriage they would bitterly 
 deprecate. They should not influence her. The 
 decision involved only her future and Hugh Ken- 
 nett's. No other consideration should have weight. 
 
 How should she decide ? To give him up ? 
 Could she do it ? To marry him ? To place in 
 controversy the human heart and the implacable 
 forces of conventionality? it was a dangerous 
 experiment. 
 
 The rain was falling heavily and the wind was 
 loud at last. And as to the menace that the fu- 
 ture held, as to the pallid potentialities of regret,
 
 162 FELICIA. 
 
 disappointment, despair, could these vague gleams 
 slipping about the horizon, contend against the 
 effulgence of love and hope ? Only a room 
 bounded by four walls, or a realm vast as the uni- 
 verse ? And darkness had come, and the pro- 
 phecy of winter was on the turbulent air ; or were 
 light and summer here, and all sweet promises 
 and dreams ? 
 
 When she suddenly turned, there was a strange 
 commingling of expressions on her expressive 
 face ; that tumult of thought and perplexity 
 which had torn her with a sort of mental anguish, 
 and had stamped her features with its intensity 
 and its trouble, was still upon them. But a radi- 
 ance was dawning in her eyes, and an amazed de- 
 light that this feeling which she could not conquer 
 was stronger than her will. She held out her 
 hands to him. " I cannot give you up," she said, 
 simply. " I thought I could and I cannot." 
 
 That night Kennett sang and acted like a man 
 inspired. His elaborate stage training, which 
 had been a conspicuous element in the excellence 
 of his work heretofore, was now merely a subser- 
 vient adjunct valuable, but imperceptible to 
 the fiery and tender exaltation which possessed 
 him. 
 
 " Oh, Lord ! if you 're going to keep this up, 
 Kennett, you '11 walk over the course away from 
 all of us," said j'oung Preston, during one of the 
 waits, as, arrayed in ruby-tinted velvet, he threw 
 himself into a chair in Kennett's dressing-room,
 
 FELICIA. 163 
 
 and elevated his feet to the back of another chair. 
 He lifted a glass to his lips and drained it with a 
 grace of gesture that would have done justice to 
 '28 port, but it was only beer. 
 
 " Kennett must be a little tight," said Abbott, 
 dryly. "A man is always at his best when he 
 is a little tight." 
 
 Kennett only laughed. He was a notable fig- 
 ure as he stood among them, gay and triumphant, 
 and with brilliant eyes. Small wonder that Fe- 
 licia had not recognized him in costume. That 
 which had met the requirements of her stringent 
 taste, a certain neutrality, a conservatism, gave 
 him the look of an unobtrusive and serious man, 
 and had even rendered inconspicuous certain 
 qualities of his personality, the regularity of 
 his features, his symmetry and grace of figure and 
 gait ; for the stage hero these had a market value, 
 and were brought out and accented by his auburn 
 wig, his rouge, his slashed black-and-gold costume, 
 his long, supple, easy stage stride.
 
 rx. 
 
 JUDGE HAMILTON reached New York the next 
 morning. 
 
 In comparison with his father, John Hamilton 
 might be deemed meek. There was a strong like- 
 ness between the two in appearance ; the elder 
 man being a trifle more florid, stout, bald, and 
 hale than the younger. What little hair he pos- 
 sessed, however, was gray ; his mustache was 
 short, bristling, and white ; he was more vehement 
 and rapid of speech ; he had an emphatic gesture 
 of the right hand brought down upon the open 
 palm of the left which the son had not yet ac- 
 quired. He also had a habit, in excitement, of 
 throwing back his head, widening his eyes, and 
 dilating his nostrils, which were flexible and open, 
 with a sound resembling a snort of indignation or 
 of intense affirmation. At such moments he sug- 
 gested a horse subjected to unusual cerebral activ- 
 
 ify. 
 
 When, his shaggy white eyebrows contracted 
 over his big, indignant dark eyes, he listened to 
 the reasons which led to the summer " pleasuring," 
 his first impulse was to settle accounts with his 
 unlucky son. 
 
 " I thought it was better to take her away from
 
 FELICIA. 165 
 
 there," said John, concluding his report. " I 
 thought that perhaps in changing about from 
 place to place she would lose interest in the fellow 
 and maybe forget him." 
 
 The old gentleman, when his son ceased, 
 bounded from his chair with an elasticity wonder- 
 ful in a man of his years and weight. He was 
 almost inarticulate in his wrath, as he dashed 
 about the room, accenting his words by a sound- 
 ing thump on the floor with his stick, and now 
 and then facing round on his anxious son. 
 
 " By the Lord Harry," he roared, " you ought 
 to be in the lunatic asylum, sir ! You ought to 
 have a guardian appointed, sir ! You are not fit 
 to manage your own affairs ! Any man who can't 
 take better care than that of a girl like Felicia 
 ought n't to be trusted with business." 
 
 He stood still suddenly, beating out the words 
 impressively on the marble-topped table ; and the 
 decanters and glasses ordered by his son in the 
 hope of a mollifying preparatory influence rang 
 with the vibrations. 
 
 " Good Lord, sir, I would n't have believed it ! 
 I send my daughter the best child in the world, 
 and the most docile to your house to make you 
 a visit, because you and Sophie insist on having 
 her, and because it is dull for her at home, and 
 you let her fall in love with an oper-y singer ! " 
 
 It is beyond the possibility of the printer's art 
 to intimate the scorn which the old gentleman in- 
 fused into these words. He spoke them, too, with
 
 166 FELICIA. 
 
 a certain remarkable nasal, rustic drawl, sugges- 
 tive of extremely rural regions. Perhaps he had 
 picked it up in the more remote counties of his 
 circuit. Whenever he chose, in scorn and anger, 
 to affect this tone, it always made his daughter 
 wince with a disapprobation that was nearly akin 
 to pain. He was an able lawyer, a logical rea- 
 soner, an intellectual man, accustomed to good 
 society, but occasionally, in some crisis of temper, 
 his personation of an ignorant country boor 
 would have been useful in the profession he con- 
 temned. 
 
 " An oper-y singer," he drawled ; " light oper-y ! 
 Comic oper-y, I suppose. They tell me that 's 
 lower than the other kind. Comic oper-y ! 
 Mighty comical, I '11 swear ! And you have the 
 grit to tell me that you and Sophie hope it will 
 not amount to anything serious ! It 's damned 
 serious ! And you tell me you hope he '11 disap- 
 pear from here, do you ? A man, too, with a sort 
 of claim, kin to that blamed fool Bob Ray- 
 mond! Kin to the pa'son, sir, kin, in a sort 
 of way,, to her cousin Amy. And you invited the 
 man to call ! You found out nothing about him, 
 his business, his character, his habits, his 
 friends ! You only invited him a perfect stran- 
 ger to your house just because he was kin 
 to dear cousin Bob, the pa'son ! Then you took 
 yourself off to Dakota next morning, and he came 
 to the house every day or so ! Met a girl like 
 Felicia mighty near every day ! And you hope a
 
 FELICIA. 167 
 
 fellow with that much chance and that much 
 claim will never be heard of any more ! God 
 bless you, John, what a fool you are ! " 
 
 It might be supposed from these strictures that 
 the old gentleman's wrath would soon exhaust it- 
 self. Such an expectation would be based on a 
 very slight knowledge of the resources of his tem- 
 per. He shared none of John's ideas as to the 
 policy of non-explanations. Almost his first 
 words to his daughter were on this subject. She 
 came in with delight to meet him, having for a 
 moment dashed aside her anxieties. She threw 
 herself into his arms, with tears in her eyes. 
 There was great fondness between them. He 
 petted and spoiled her, rebuked and praised her, 
 lavishly, inconsistently, and inconsiderately ; and 
 his demonstrative and tyrannical affection had 
 never seemed to her so precious as now. 
 
 " See here, Felicia," he exclaimed, after a hur- 
 ried kiss and a tremendous hug, " what 's all this 
 they tell me about their having introduced stran- 
 gers to you ? When did you see that fellow Ken- 
 nett?" 
 
 Perhaps it was the courage of desperation which 
 nerved her to reply with calmness : " I saw him 
 yesterday afternoon, papa." 
 
 Though Judge Hamilton became purple with 
 wrath, he cast a glance of triumph at his son, 
 a glance which said bitterly, " What did I tell 
 you?" 
 
 " I find that the man is an opera singer. Did 
 you know that ? " he demanded.
 
 168 FELICIA. 
 
 *' I have known it only since yesterday," said 
 Felicia. 
 
 " Ah um is that the case ? Well, I don't 
 blame you," with a gulp ; the old gentleman was 
 trying to be just. " But he is not an appropri- 
 ate acquaintance for you. It is a low business, 
 comic opera is." 
 
 " I dislike it as much as you do," said Felicia, 
 in a low tone. 
 
 " That 's a reasonable girl. I thought you 
 would look at it that way," said Judge Hamilton, 
 with great approbation. " Yes, yes, it 's a low 
 business ; don't wonder you disapprove of any- 
 body connected with it. You shall not meet that 
 man again." 
 
 " I don't think I can promise you that, papa," 
 said Felicia, still more faintly. " I am going to 
 marry him." 
 
 The color suddenly left Judge Hamilton's face, 
 then surged back in a deeply crimson tide. 
 " Hey ! hey ! " he demanded, as if he doubted his 
 sense of hearing. 
 
 At this moment, after his customary annuncia- 
 tory tap, the brisk bell-boy entered with a card, 
 which he handed to Judge Hamilton. Then he 
 stood still awaiting instructions. 
 
 Judge Hamilton hurriedly examined his pocket 
 for his spectacle-case. He did not find it, and 
 with a growl of impatience he gave the card to 
 his son, for the benefit of his younger eyes. One 
 glance at John's perturbed countenance as he 
 read the name was sufficient,,
 
 FELICIA. 169 
 
 " That 's the man, is it ? " said the old gentle- 
 man sharply. "Yes, I thought so. Show him 
 in, you, sir ! " He glared at the startled bell- 
 boy with a fierceness intended for Keniiett. 
 " Show him in immediately ! " 
 
 As the servant vanished he walked up and 
 down the room in a sort of angry elation. " I '11 
 settle this matter at once ! " he cried. " Stay 
 where you are, Felicia," for she had risen to make 
 her escape. " Sit down," he ordered perempto- 
 rily. " I intend to put an end to this affair ; I '11 
 settle it." He thumped the floor with his thick 
 cane, in his excitement. 
 
 At the sound of the opening door, Judge Ham- 
 ilton faced about suddenly. The sedate, almost 
 saturnine gentleman on the threshold did not ac- 
 cord with his idea of an opera singer in private 
 life. His mental ideal was of a more pronounced 
 type. However, he stepped quickly to the middle 
 of the room. The hand holding his stick was 
 trembling violently ; his eyes were very fierce. 
 
 " If I am not mistaken, sir, your name is Ken- 
 nett," he began. " Yes, I thought so. Now, sir, 
 I am a man of few words, a plain man. I am 
 told you have been visiting my daughter. I don't 
 approve of it. I won't have it. I know nothing 
 against you personally, but I won't have an opera 
 singer among her acquaintance. You will be so 
 good as to discontinue your calls." 
 
 John Hamilton, now that he was relieved of 
 the responsibility of the crisis, was able to look at
 
 170 FELICIA. 
 
 Kennett, at this trying moment, with a certain 
 dispassionate criticism impossible earlier ; and in 
 this calmer mood he marveled at Felicia's infatu- 
 ation. No man could fully gauge another man's 
 power in a matter of this sort, he reflected, but, 
 making all allowance, what could she see in this 
 fellow ? He looked like an honest man, with the 
 proclivities of a gentleman, of somewhat more 
 than average intelligence. It was perhaps the 
 best which might be said for him that his was a 
 lucid nature, with a certain dignity, a certain 
 strength. Surely this was not remarkable ; there 
 were doubtless hundreds and thousands of men 
 equal to him in these respects, in the conventional 
 walks of life. How had she happened to fancy 
 the man? She was not a fool to be attracted 
 merely by the tawdry glitter appertaining to his 
 vocation. What a commentary on the perversity 
 of women that she, with her ultra-fastidious no- 
 tions, should be seized upon by an infatuation 
 like this, without even the absurd excuse of dash, 
 romance, fascination, in its object to explain it ! 
 
 Judge Hamilton's look and tone, in their arro- 
 gance, their intolerance, were hard to endure 
 without protest more or less insistent, but the 
 habit of self -management had been the business 
 of Kennett's life ; the exercise of tact, of policy, 
 was a daily necessity. It was with a judicious 
 admixture of firmness, of self-respect, and of re- 
 spect for Judge Hamilton's seniority that he re- 
 plied.
 
 FELICIA. 171 
 
 "Your daughter has promised to marry me," 
 he said, " and I shall use every effort to induce 
 her to keep her promise." 
 
 Judge Hamilton shifted his hand from the head 
 of his cane, and, grasping it in the middle, bran- 
 dished it with a wildly threatening motion. 
 
 " But I tell you, sir, I won't have it ! " he ex- 
 claimed, in a stentorian roar. 
 
 " She has promised to marry me," repeated the 
 young man. 
 
 Is every able jury lawyer an actor as well ; has 
 he something of that wonderful faculty which can 
 instantaneously master a situation, experience an 
 emotion, gauge and apportion its reflex action 
 upon the natures of others ; or was there hidden 
 away in Judge Hamilton's intellectual being an 
 exceptional gift of which he was half unconscious? 
 His face suddenly cleared ; he let his cane slip 
 through his fingers, which lightly tightened upon 
 the gold head ; he gently tapped the floor ; he 
 nodded two or three times, with an expression de- 
 noting perfect faith in his own words. 
 
 " She will never do it," he said. " She will 
 marry no man without my consent." He turned 
 upon his daughter a beautiful look of tenderness 
 and confidence. " She is fond of her old father," 
 he added, simply. 
 
 It was a fine touch and very well done ; all the 
 actor's sensitive perceptions made Kennett keenly 
 alive to its artistic merits. The others, less dis- 
 criminating, were more emotionally, and conse-
 
 172 FELICIA. 
 
 quently more vividly impressed. Evidently this 
 had told heavily against him. He was beginning 
 to lose his calmness ; he attempted to argue. 
 
 " If her happiness is at stake," he said eagerly, 
 " does it not occur to you that my personal char- 
 acter is a matter worthy of some consideration? 
 I think a little inquiry would satisfy you on this 
 score. I can " 
 
 "I need inquire no further, sir, than your 
 business," returned Judge Hamilton, lapsing into 
 anger. " To me it is intolerable, unendurable. 
 Allow my daughter to marry a singer, an oper- 
 atic singer! Sir, I would not for one moment 
 entertain the idea." 
 
 If he could have stopped here, the affair might 
 even yet have adjusted itself on his basis. Since 
 that fine little stroke of delicate sentiment his 
 daughter had grown white ; there were tears on 
 her cheek. He loved her so, her father, and 
 she was fond of him ; what must she do, what 
 must she do ? 
 
 When, however, Judge Hamilton's astuteness 
 and his temper were weighed in the balance, the 
 chances were in favor of the temper as the more 
 definite element. It shortly effaced the impres- 
 sion his tact had produced. 
 
 " There are other considerations " persisted 
 Kennett. 
 
 " Can't you take No for an answer ? " inter- 
 rupted the old gentleman, aggressively. " There 
 is no use in discussing the matter."
 
 FELICIA. 173 
 
 Kennett turned suddenly to Felicia. His self- 
 possession was gone at last. She had never 
 thought to see him so shaken. His voice was 
 strained ; the hand that held his hat was trem- 
 bling ; the look of appeal he bent upon her, 
 charged with a sort of helplessness in significant 
 contrast with his strength as she had known him 
 heretofore, was very potent with the woman who 
 loved him. Her heart beat fast; she looked at 
 him piteously. 
 
 "I will take my answer only from you, Feli- 
 cia," he said. 
 
 The tone in which he pronounced her name, 
 the fact that he dared utter her name at all, set 
 the old gentleman's blood boiling. He again 
 grasped his cane in the centre and made a hur- 
 ried stride forward ; then he turned sharply and 
 fixed his angry eyes on his daughter. 
 
 "Give him his answer," he commanded; "his 
 answer is No ! " 
 
 She made no reply. 
 
 " I will be obeyed, Felicia ! " he thundered. 
 " Send the man about his affairs ! Give him his 
 answer ; his answer is No ! You shall obey me ! 
 Send him away or I '11 disinherit you I '11 
 write my will this night, and cut you off without 
 a cent ! " 
 
 " Lord, Lord ! " groaned John, in his corner. 
 " To threaten a girl like Felicia ! And he calls 
 me a lunatic ! " But John groaned this reflection 
 very sotto voce indeed.
 
 174 FELICIA. 
 
 Felicia had risen ; her color had come back in 
 a brilliant spot on either cheek ; her eyes were 
 bright. 
 
 " You bring money into this discussion, papa," 
 she said. " I will not obey you for such a rea- 
 son. I will not send him away so that I may in- 
 herit your money. I feel \ery well satisfied that 
 he will take care of me. Besides," she added, 
 proudly, " I am not a beggar. I have my own 
 property that mamma's father left me." 
 
 The old gentleman glared at her in a baffled 
 way during this defiance, and as she concluded he 
 gave a loud snort of scorn and anger. 
 
 " Lord, yes," he exclaimed, contemptuously, 
 " you have got that ! I 'd lost sight of that vast 
 estate. Oh, yes, you 've got your mother's 
 share." 
 
 " And you can leave your money to whom you 
 please. / don't want it ! " cried Felicia, unap- 
 peasable now. 
 
 In this spirit of mutual defiance the contest was 
 waged afterward. There was no more of soften- 
 mg on either side. Felicia could not forgive her 
 father's threat of disinheritance ; it had kindled 
 even more resentment than John's mistaken and 
 disingenuous policy of silent antagonism. Judge 
 Hamilton, on his side, could not forgive her in- 
 fatuation, and it held for him the element of dis- 
 mayed astonishment. He was one of those men 
 whose critical faculty is not disarmed by partial- 
 ity. His very fondness for his daughter made
 
 FELICIA. 175 
 
 him keenly alert to her faults, and he had de- 
 cided, upon what he deemed abundant evidence, 
 that a pronounced worldly-mindedness was one of 
 those faults, that she had an undue apprecia- 
 tion of a fine establishment, of the newest and 
 most desirable attainment in equipage, diamonds, 
 laces, the triumphs of the dressmaker's and milli- 
 ner's arts. He desired that she should enjoy these 
 good and valuable things, that she should appre- 
 ciate them fully, and yet that she should in some 
 sort spiritually ignore them. The reverse dan- 
 ger, the unreasoning reliuquishment of all this 
 gilded and refined mammon, he had not felt called 
 upon to fear. 
 
 In this emergency he took Madame Sevier into 
 his confidence. His feeling toward this lady was 
 somewhat contradictory. When, ten years before, 
 he had opened his eyes to the fact that his daugh- 
 ter was growing into a tall, dreamy, awkward girl, 
 extremely fond of books and abnormally ignorant 
 of everything else, he selected a notable French 
 boarding-school as offering the influences likely 
 to ward off the danger that she would develop 
 into a desultorily intellectual and socially un- 
 trained woman. With the result of the exper- 
 iment he was not altogether satisfied ; yet he 
 could hardly say what was lacking. She was, as 
 he desired, educated, yet not over-educated ; her 
 taste was schooled, her social gifts were culti- 
 vated ; she had a good French and Italian accent, 
 and spoke both languages fluently ; she sang and
 
 176 FELICIA. 
 
 played on the piano and harp very creditably, ac- 
 cording to the authorities, he admitted his in- 
 capacity to judge in this regard ; she understood 
 life and society, there was no doubt about that. 
 Sometimes he called the vague fault ho found 
 in this product of Madame Sevier's civilization 
 frivolity; sometimes, vanity, petty- minded ness, 
 artificiality. It not occur to him that he had de- 
 sired an impossibility : worldly training with sim- 
 plicity, intellect without its self-assertion, social 
 culture without its imperative demands and its 
 intolerance. He was as greatly surprised that 
 the moderately near approximation to his ideal 
 which his daughter embodied should not be con- 
 tent with the society of Blankburg divinity stu- 
 dents, thus negativing her intellectual tendencies, 
 as that she should ignore her worldly training by 
 giving a serious thought to a man in Hugh Ken- 
 nett's position in life. He forgot now all that he 
 had said in disapprobation of Madame Sevier, 
 her methods and achievement, and turned to her 
 for aid, as he had done ten years before. 
 
 She gave him her most ardent sympathy, who 
 feels another's woe so keenly as one whose own 
 interest is also involved ? She threw up her 
 hands ; she elevated her fine gray eyes, her deli- 
 cate black eyebrows, and her thin, expressive 
 shoulders. And she said with the intensest and 
 most sincere feeling, " A-h-h, mais mon Dieu, 
 c'est trop terrible ! " An eloquent dismay was 
 depicted on every feature : on the curves of her
 
 FELICIA. 177 
 
 short upper Up ; on the thin dilating nostrils of 
 her classic nose; in the flush that overspread the 
 clear pallor of her cheek ; on the delicate net- 
 work of wrinkles that corrugated her frowning 
 brow, and extended to the dense black hair 
 streaked with gray which she dared to dress, in 
 this day of curls and bangs, in the fashion of 
 forty years ago, in soft loose waves on each side 
 of her broad low forehead. Her favorite pupil, 
 the show young lady of the Institute, who had 
 been with her for ten years, whom she was accus- 
 tomed to point out as an exemplification of what 
 she and the Institute could do, her Felicite, of 
 whom she was so fond and so proud, to marry 
 an opera singer, and thus reinforce the fascina- 
 tions of the stage hero for silly school-girls ! She, 
 the model, the intellectual, it would have sur- 
 prised Alfred Grafton, the extent to which Fe- 
 licia's intellectuality was esteemed at the Insti- 
 tute, she, the clear-headed, the solid-minded ! 
 Ah-b-h ! such an example to the other young la- 
 dies ! What could Madame Sevier do but call 
 upon her bon Dieu, maintain that this was af- 
 freux, and promise to see Felicia at once ? 
 
 She was eminently calculated to influence Fe- 
 licia. The magnetism of her presence, her supe- 
 rior mental qualities, the adroitness of her tact, 
 the graceful tenderness of her demonstrations of 
 affection, the force of long association, all con- 
 spired to bring their strength to any cause she 
 might espouse. This time, however, she was too
 
 J78 FELICIA. 
 
 thoroughly interested to avail herself fully of 
 these aids. Her tact at a moment of peril was 
 not equal to her earnestness, which affords 
 gratifying evidence of the sincerity inherent in 
 the human soul. Beyond this Madame Sevier 
 was at a disadvantage. An argument which can 
 be supported only by commonplace truisms so 
 obvious that nobody denies them is necessarily 
 weak. She could only declare in varied phi-ase 
 that marriage is a serious matter ; that a passing 
 fancy should not be allowed to jeopardize solid 
 happiness ; that only in romances is emotion the 
 all in all of existence. It might have been better 
 if she had stopped here, but 
 
 *' Ah, rna chere, c'est trop affreux ! Only re- 
 flect. How public ! how notorious ! And your 
 father and brother are so violent, so imprudent. 
 Ah-h-h, my dear, these family storms will be 
 heard of. You are notable. The Institute is so 
 notable I There will be paragraphs. Ah, yes, 
 indeed ; the reporters are hungry for items. 
 Paragraphs in the newspapers about the beauti- 
 ful heiress, a former pupil of the well-known Se- 
 vier Institute, who is bent on marrying a singer ! 
 Ah, just Heaven ! I would not have that hap- 
 pen for a great deal. Give it up, my dear Feli- 
 cia. Think of the Institute ! Think of ME ! " 
 
 It may be doubted if Judge Hamilton's parti- 
 san did his cause much service. 
 
 So strained and unnatural a situation could not 
 long remain unchanged. It was radically and
 
 FELICIA. 179 
 
 very suddenly altered one afternoon, when Feli- 
 cia walked down to the public parlor of the hotel, 
 met Hugh Kennett, and accompanied him to St. 
 Church, where they were quietly married. 
 In an hour thereafter, Judge Hamilton, his son, 
 Sophie, and the children had left New York ; the 
 two gentlemen metaphorically shaking the dust 
 from their indignant feet, and literally bestowing 
 hearty maledictions on the devoted city and all it 
 contained.
 
 X. 
 
 THE jets in the great chandelier were slowly 
 lowered ; the large semicircle of the auditorium, 
 over which the flutter of fans and ripple of smiles 
 suggested the fugitive effect of breezes and but- 
 terflies about a bed of flowers, sank gradually 
 into deep shadow ; the footlights became suddenly 
 brilliant ; the prompter's bell tinkled ; the cur- 
 tain glided upward ; the second act had begun, 
 and Prince Roderic advanced down the right 
 centre to a soft pizzicato movement of violins, 
 through which floated the melody, sustained by 
 cornets and flutes. 
 
 A round of applause greeted him. The curtain 
 had fallen upon him as the central figure of an 
 effective scene, and the situation was one which 
 appealed to the sense of pity and the sense of jus- 
 tice, thus moving the popular heart. And now 
 was introduced in hiding in certain woods this 
 potentate, vaguely described as prince, deposed 
 from his indefinite high station through his own 
 confiding nature and the machinations of a false 
 and trusted friend, whose office seemed to em- 
 brace all the functions of a Grand Vizier. Abun- 
 dant opportunity was afforded for soft and deft 
 stepping about and for graceful attitudinizing, as
 
 FELICIA. 181 
 
 the prince assured himself that no hidden foe 
 lurked in ambush among the trees and rocks. 
 Satisfied that he was alone, save for a thousand or 
 so people in the audience, who do not count, ex- 
 cept in the sordid computations of the ticket office, 
 he gave himself up to despairing reflections on his 
 situation, supplemented by vows, in sufficiently 
 heroic strain, of vengeance. His voice, rich and 
 robust, embodied a certain nobility, and the cov- 
 ertly martial orchestration heightened the effect. 
 The contrast to sudden tenderness expressing 
 the idea of an amazed incredulity and grief be- 
 cause of the perfidy of his friend in the succeed- 
 ing movement was so well done, assisted as it was 
 by a very soft and taking melody, that it brought 
 down the house and extorted an encore. 
 
 It is seldom that any prince, on or off the stage, 
 is watched with such a complication of feelings as 
 those which animated a pair of violet eyes in one 
 of the proscenium boxes. Felicia had been mar- 
 ried six months, and this was her first acquaint- 
 ance with the prince as a prince. To the mere 
 man she had given much intelligent appreciation 
 and her tender heart. Now, what of the prince ? 
 She was proud of him ; she could not help that, 
 he did it so well. Her musical training had been 
 sufficient to enable her to admire enthusiastically 
 his voice and gauge the extent of its culture. 
 She was ashamed of him, that he, bedizened in 
 stage finery and with a painted face, should dis- 
 play himself and his capacities so that all these
 
 182 FELICIA. 
 
 people, who had paid their money, might be en- 
 tertained, might approve or disapprove at their 
 good pleasure! She pitied him. To her it all 
 seemed so small, so false, so utterly unworthy of 
 him ; and yet he was so thoroughly satisfied with 
 it, and he did it so well. And she had discov- 
 ered that it was no light task, to do this well. 
 She had had glimpses of the incessant labor ; the 
 unceasing exercise of judgment, of patience, of 
 memory ; the tense strain on the nerves ; the ex- 
 hausting attention to detail, which go to make 
 that airy structure, a success on the lyric stage, 
 which presents the very perfection of spontaneous 
 inspiration. 
 
 She had arrived late, and had missed the first 
 act. When he came walking down the stage in 
 this new guise, so strange to her, she felt her 
 heart beating fast and heavily, and the color 
 slowly left her face. It returned with a rush 
 when the sound of clapping hands broke the si- 
 lence, and she leaned slightly forward, watching 
 him with a grave face and intent eyes. 
 
 Thus she was looking at him when he caught 
 sight of her. 
 
 There was little change in her since the en- 
 chanted days of last summer; none but a keen 
 observer might detect a subtler expression on her 
 expressive features. Something was suggested of 
 the emotions of a woman who loves entirely and 
 is entirely loved. There was beside something 
 more complex than this, not pain, not restless-
 
 FELICIA. 183 
 
 ness, yet partaking to a degree of each, and con- 
 tending with that deeper, stiller look which happi- 
 ness had given to her face. 
 
 This was a good deal to see in one half minute, 
 but Hugh Kennett saw with his intellect and his 
 heart as well as with his eyes, while, with long 
 golden curls hanging beneath his plumed hat, and 
 arrayed in a costume of violet velvet, combining 
 two tones, very faint and very dark, which gave 
 back the lustre of the footlights, yet held rich 
 shadows, he stepped deftly about in his search 
 for Prince Roderic's implacable foes among the 
 tangled intricacies of the canvas rocks and 
 bushes. 
 
 As the tenor finished his encore, the baritone 
 came on in a green hunting-suit, apparently wind- 
 ing a silver horn, which office was judiciously 
 delegated to a member of the orchestra. Felicia 
 gathered that the baritone and the prince were 
 rivals in love, and that the baritone had left the 
 court in dudgeon because of the prince's presump- 
 tive success with the lady previous to his exile, 
 brought about by the perfidious Grand Chamber- 
 lain. There was a melodic defiance, pitched on a 
 high key, and later, when matters were explained, 
 much graceful and musical magnanimity on both 
 sides. With the offer on the part of the baritone 
 to join the usurper's forces, and to introduce the 
 prince in disguise into his own dominions, in an 
 effort to regain his status, the scene closed ; the 
 silver horn was again wound; the prince, by
 
 184 FELICIA. 
 
 agreement, passed up the left centre ; and a 
 party of huntsmen came into view at the back of 
 the stage, to the prelude of a dashing chorus 
 'chronicling the joys of the chase. 
 
 The face with which Hugh Kennett dropped 
 into a chair in his dressing-room, after changing 
 his costume, was not Prince Roderic's face, nor 
 was it the serene face he usually wore. The 
 paint did not obscure its expression : it was anx- 
 ious ; it held some impatience, some depression, 
 some uncertainty. " How did she happen to 
 come ? " he said to himself. And then, " I sup- 
 pose she considers me a sort of Harlequin," he re- 
 flected, bitterly. 
 
 Abbott entered a moment later. He too had 
 changed his dress, substituting for the green 
 hunting -suit a blue and white costume very re- 
 splendent with silver lace, supposed to be the 
 acceptable court attire. He flung himself into a 
 rocking-chair, lighted a cigar, and for a moment 
 the two men were silent. 
 
 The room was small and in disarray. Much- 
 bedizened costumes were tossed about the chairs ; 
 several pairs of stage slippers were on the floor ; 
 the gas-jets on each side of a mirror were alight, 
 and from the elbow of one of the brackets de- 
 pended a blond wig. The hair was very long and 
 curled, and the effect was that of a decapitated 
 head as the locks waved in the breeze, for the 
 window was open. It was a warm night for the 
 season, the first week in April ; there had been
 
 FELICIA. 185 
 
 rain, and the air was heavy. Abbott picked up a 
 palm-leaf fan, and as he swayed back and forth he 
 fanned himself. His mobile, irregular face was 
 in this brilliant light ghastly and unnatural, with 
 its staring contrasts of red and white ; those 
 heavy lines about his mouth and brow were plas- 
 tered over, but there were black semicircles under 
 his eyes. His nervous temperament was mani- 
 fested by the restlessness of his movements : he 
 changed his attitude abruptly ; he glanced about 
 him with eagerness ; he plied the fan with en- 
 ergy ; the very act of rocking was done with a 
 rapid, uncertain motion. 
 
 " Your wife is here," he said, suddenly. 
 
 Kennett glanced at him. 
 
 " I don't mean in here," said Abbott, with a 
 laugh. " Outside, in the audience in one 
 of the boxes." 
 
 " I know it," returned Kennett. 
 
 There was a short pause. 
 
 " She does n't honor you often," remarked Ab- 
 bott. 
 
 Kennett made no reply. These men had known 
 each other long and well; each was perfectly 
 aware of the other's thought, nay, Abbott even 
 divined his friend's impulse to declare that her 
 absence was through his own desire, and the in- 
 stantaneous rejection of the half-formed intention 
 as useless for the purpose of deception. And 
 Kennett knew that Abbott was triumphant be- 
 cause she had not come before this, and was con-
 
 186 FELICIA. 
 
 tradictorily and characteristically resentful of her 
 neglect. 
 
 " Sometimes I think," Abbott went on, reflect- 
 ively, " that it is best for a man not to marry out 
 of meeting, as the Quakers say." He himself had 
 married, while yet a chorus singer, a young girl 
 with a rustic style of beauty, also a chorus singer, 
 who had left the stage before progressing beyond 
 that point. 
 
 Kennett again said nothing. 
 
 " The identity of interest, that 's the thing ; 
 the sympathy, you know. I suppose it is impos- 
 sible for an outsider to feel it exactly." 
 
 " If you lay down a general rule, no doubt you 
 are right," returned Kennett, coolly. 
 
 Abbott looked at him hard, with a feeling 
 which is somewhat difficult of analysis. His was 
 a nature in which the sweet and bitter were 
 mixed in exact proportions. There was some- 
 thing feminine in his disposition, illustrated just 
 now in an impulse to say that which would cut 
 and rankle; yet his affection for his friend was 
 strong and sincere. His unreasoning and unreas- 
 onable perversity went hand in hand with magna- 
 nimity. He could throw himself with ardor into 
 another man's effort, sincerely sympathize with 
 his defeat and rejoice in his achievement ; and he 
 could no more refrain, when in the mood, from 
 gibe and fleer than a freakish woman, in irrita- 
 tion or disappointment, can leave un uttered the 
 word that stabs the heart she loves best. He had,
 
 FELICIA. 187 
 
 at the time, deplored Kennett's marriage as a ca- 
 lamity. Judge Hamilton and his son might pos- 
 sibly have enlarged their estimate as to the scope 
 of human impudence, if they could have divined 
 Mr. Abbott's point of view. Since that event he 
 had not altered his opinion. 
 
 After a pause he spoke again. 
 
 "Marriage is a mistake, and don't you forget 
 it," he said, thoughtfully ; " that is, for a man 
 with ambitions. It does well enough for medi- 
 ocrity." 
 
 Kennett looked at him fixedly, with set teeth 
 and compressed lips, which brought into play the 
 latent fierceness his square lower jaw could ex- 
 press ; there was a steely gleam in his gray eyes. 
 
 The crisis required only a look. Abbott re- 
 treated in good order. He glanced innocently at 
 his friend and vaguely about the room, fanning 
 himself and smoking. 
 
 " Good house," he remarked, with a nod in the 
 direction of the audience. 
 
 " The duet went well," said Kennett. 
 
 " You bet," rejoined Abbott. 
 
 His quick sense caught the step of the advan- 
 cing call-boy before the door was opened. He 
 sprang from his chair to the mirror, took a swift, 
 comprehensive look at himself, readjusted with 
 a dextrous hand the collar of stage jewels about 
 his throat, and vanished without another word. 
 
 Kennett, left alone, rose and walked to the 
 window. His step was heavier than its wont.
 
 188 FELICIA. 
 
 A warm, clank breeze was blowing ; the clouds 
 were low. The sounds from the street, the rattle 
 of wheels as a carriage drew up near the mouth 
 of the alley, the pawing of a horse, the accents of 
 a voice raised in objurgation, the distant tinkle of 
 car-bells, carne muffled on the thick air ; an al- 
 most imperceptible drizzle of rain made itself felt 
 on his face. It was an imprudent thing for him 
 the most prudent of men to stand in his airy 
 attire at the open window, and it was almost 
 equally imprudent to give himself up to his purely 
 personal interests, in this interval which belonged, 
 as distinctly as active duties, to his professional 
 work. Instead of devoting the wait to mere men- 
 tal and physical rest, or to the anticipation of 
 what remained to be done in the next hour, his 
 mind was busy with a brief review of the last six 
 months and the effect of a foreign influence on 
 his life. Abbott's ill-natured dictum came back 
 to him with malignant iteration. Was his mar- 
 riage a mistake ? For his own heart, his happi- 
 ness, he indignantly denied this. But for his am- 
 bitions, his future, his artistic development ? 
 
 So far the foreign influence had been merely 
 negative. Felicia had held apart from his pro- 
 fessional life ; she had ignored as much as was 
 practicable the fact that he had any life except 
 the one she shared. In the early weeks of their 
 marriage, the perception had come to him that 
 her persistent pretexts for declining to accompany 
 him to the performances and rehearsals were part
 
 FELICIA. 189 
 
 of a premeditated plan. When he realized this 
 he ceased to urge her, aud without explanation 
 there came to be a tacit agreement that his stage 
 life was a thing apart from his domestic life. It 
 was very quietly but very firmly accomplished. 
 He winced under it, but his pride was roused, and 
 he accepted the situation without protest. Now he 
 was asking himself how it was that a merely neg- 
 ative influence could chill. He did not believe 
 that a difference was as yet perceptible in his 
 work, for thorough training and the habit of a 
 lifetime go far as substitutes for ardor, but he 
 sometimes knew and it was growing upon him 
 
 a deep-felt want ; he recognized it, it was a 
 lost impulse, a lost inspiration. While still in his 
 possession it had dignified his calling, it had made 
 toil light, it had invested the tedious details with 
 recurrent interest. Now that he missed it he 
 appreciated its worth both as a sentimental pos- 
 session and as a tangible factor in achievement. 
 He wondered how this would end ; he wondered 
 if a , change impended ; he wondered how she 
 happened to come here to-night. He wondered 
 again if she rated him as a bedizened Harlequin, 
 
 it must all be buffoonery to her. 
 
 The call-boy stuck his head in at the door. 
 
 " Stage waits." 
 
 The reflections that had absorbed the last ten 
 minutes narrowly missed being a singularly unfor- 
 tunate preparation. For the first time in many 
 years Kennett experienced, as he left the wings,
 
 190 FELICIA. 
 
 the poignant anguish of stage fright. He pulled 
 himself together by a great effort ; he called up 
 all his faculties. At this moment he met her 
 eyes again ; she smiled, and her face wore an ex- 
 pression he often saw in that closer life which had 
 come to be so much dearer to him than his public 
 life. Under the impetus of the thought that per- 
 haps after all she might reconcile those diverse 
 existences he regained his self-command, but he 
 was vaguely aware of a sub-current of surprised 
 dismay that her approval or her objection should 
 exercise so strong a control. His capacities had 
 responded to that smile of hers like a horse to a 
 touch on the curb. 
 
 The representation continued to a felicitous 
 conclusion. The usurper, unconscious of his im- 
 pending doom, robed in power and red velvet, 
 made welcome the stranger all unsuspecting 
 the prince in disguise in a fine bass solo, em- 
 bodying some elements of self-gratulation and 
 braggadocio which afforded the opportunity for 
 an arrogant and mocking ha ! ha ! peculiarly rich 
 and full. Laughing and dying were conceded to 
 be this gentleman's province ; and he presently 
 demonstrated his claim to superiority in the latter 
 accomplishment when the counterplot culminated, 
 and, overwhelmed and despairing, he stabbed 
 himself, circumventing the representatives of jus- 
 tice, who would fain have dragged him to a dun- 
 geon, by dying melodiously in E minor. The 
 rightful prince was restored to his possessions, in-
 
 FELICIA. 191 
 
 eluding the heart of the soprano; the baritone 
 made the timely discovery that he had mistaken 
 his feelings, had been unawares interested in an- 
 other young lady, and was satisfied with her 
 hand ; the faithful adherents vociferously pro- 
 claimed their joy ; the orchestra sympathetically 
 and vivaciously accented their sentiments ; the 
 tableau formed itself swiftly and incomprehensi- 
 bly into a glittering semicircle of brilliant colors 
 and flower-like faces ; the lights in the auditorium 
 brightened ; the curtain slowly descended ; there 
 was a final crash and bang of instruments, and 
 the performance was over. 
 
 As she stood watching the audience making its 
 way out of the building, a note was brought to 
 Felicia. It was signed with Kennett's initials, 
 and merely asked her to wait for him a few mo- 
 ments. In a short time he entered the box. 
 
 An old lady, whom he had not before observed, 
 was with his wife, a sedate old lady, dressed 
 with punctilious regard to the fashion in some re- 
 spects, and in other respects disdainfully ignoring 
 it. ' She regarded him intently when he was pre- 
 sented, and the three made their way across the 
 street to the hotel. At supper, of which she was 
 induced to partake, she gazed at him with a cov- 
 ert curiosity, which had in it something at once 
 ludicrous and embarrassing. She accorded the 
 gravest attention to whatever he said, and seemed 
 to weigh carefully her somewhat commonplace and 
 obvious replies. Before the conclusion of the meal
 
 192 FELICIA. 
 
 she demurely bade them good-night, adding that 
 she was unaccustomed to such late hours, and be- 
 took herself to her own room. 
 
 "Who is she?" asked Kennett, as the rustle 
 of her black silk dress died on the air. 
 
 " She is the wife of one of my father's old 
 friends. Her husband and she happened to be 
 passing through the city. I met her in the hotel 
 parlor, and asked her to go to the opera." 
 
 " She seemed to think me a queer fish." 
 
 Felicia laughed. " You must forgive her," she 
 said. " This is a remarkable experience ; she 
 never before took supper with a singer and a 
 singer's wife." 
 
 He did not quite comprehend her tone, and he 
 was vividly conscious that for the first time she 
 had mentioned him as a singer and herself as a 
 singer's wife. Nothing more was said on the sub- 
 ject until they returned to their own room. She 
 threw herself into a low chair, and he lighted a 
 cigar and stood near her, with his elbow on the 
 mantelpiece. 
 
 " This is a new departure, is n't it? " he asked, 
 after a pause. 
 
 She raised her eyes slowly. " It is an experi- 
 ment," she replied. 
 
 " Why did you come ? " 
 
 " I thought the other experiment had been tried 
 sufficiently." 
 
 "Has it failed?" 
 
 " I think it has."
 
 FELICIA. 193 
 
 He walked up and clown the room for some 
 moments, with his hands behind him ; then re- 
 sumed his former place and attitude. 
 
 "What was your experiment, Felicia? " 
 
 " I wished to prove to myself that in marrying 
 a singer I had not necessarily married his profes- 
 sion." 
 
 " And you did not prove it ? " 
 
 She did not reply directly. 
 
 " A woman who marries a lawyer takes no 
 thought of his clients ; a woman who marries a 
 doctor, what does she care for his patients or 
 their diseases? I suppose Sophie hardly knows 
 whether her husband deals in cotton, or wheat, or 
 dry goods. Your vocation is business, like any 
 other pursuit: women have nothing to do with 
 business." 
 
 " You dislike it so much," he said, not interrog- 
 atively. 
 
 " Oh, so much ! " cried Felicia, impulsively. 
 Then she checked herself. " I take that back. 
 I should not say that. You chose your line in 
 life long before you ever met me ; it has the prior 
 right. I don't complain." 
 
 " If you dislike it so much," he said, disregard- 
 ing her retraction, "you need see very little of it. 
 Why not continue as we have begun?" 
 
 All at once he was made aware that while he 
 was enacting mimic woes a drama of real feeling 
 had been going on very near to him. Again she 
 lifted her eyes, and now their expression cut him 
 deeply ; her lips were quivering.
 
 194 FELICIA. 
 
 " I am so lonely," she said, simply. 
 
 It is a bitter thing for a sensitive man to see 
 that look on the face of the woman he loves, and 
 to realize that he is to blame that she should be 
 called upon to endure the feeling which elicits it. 
 For the first time he took into consideration the 
 fact of his own absorptions ; of his eager and un- 
 failing response to the demands of his profession. 
 He saw in a swift mental review what her life 
 must be as a whole. He realized the gaps of 
 time that she must sit alone in the hotel bed- 
 room, with its dismal simulacrum of comfort, and 
 occasionally of luxury, in the huge caravansaries 
 which marked their progress eastward or west- 
 ward. What could she do with the hours while 
 she thus waited for him to come from rehearsals 
 and the evening performances ? Write letters ? 
 To whom ? All her valued friends she had alien- 
 ated by her marriage. To be sure, there were 
 books, painting, fancy-work. These, he realized 
 with sudden insight, are the resources of people 
 who are not living their own dramas. Of what 
 did she think in those long hours ? Did memory 
 take possession of her ? So young a woman 
 should have nothing to do with memory. Ah, 
 had regret too made acquaintance with her heart, 
 while he was away? He appreciated that slit- 
 must have experienced much of the sensation of 
 isolation. Her connection with the little world of 
 theatrical people amounted to a formal bow to 
 certain members of the troupe, in the hotel din-
 
 FELICIA. 195 
 
 ing-rooms or on the trains, and for many reasons 
 he hardly cared to have this otherwise. He re- 
 called now it had made scant impression at 
 the time the gleeful interest with which she re- 
 counted, one day, in Buffalo, an interview she had 
 had with a little girl, who had stopped her in a 
 corridor to tearfully relate her woes, exhibit a 
 broken doll, and be consoled. Once when she 
 had attended a morning service in Washington, 
 alone, for he was no church-goer, the white- 
 haired old lady to whose pew she was shown had 
 spoken to her, and hoped she would come again. 
 She had recurred to the circumstance more than 
 once ; saying wistfully that she wished they could 
 stay longer in Washington, and that they knew 
 some one who could introduce them to that old 
 lady, it would be " so pleasant." And once in 
 New York Madame Sevier had called ; he had 
 fancied, that evening, there were evidences of 
 tears on his wife's face, but she said nothing, and 
 the incident slipped into the past. 
 
 This had been her social life for the last six 
 months, she whose instinct for human compan- 
 ionship was so strong and had been so assiduously 
 cultivated. Even of his leisure he had been un- 
 consciously chary, giving much of it to the details 
 of his work ; only to-day she had waited long by 
 the piano until he satisfied himself that certain 
 passages were susceptible of no further improve- 
 ment. 
 
 In this sudden enlightenment other facts ac-
 
 196 FELICIA. 
 
 quired new meaning. There seemed now some- 
 thing pathetic in the touches of ornamentation 
 about them. He had been amused by her efforts 
 to give a homelike look to the stereotyped rooms 
 of the hotels at which they had temporarily lived, 
 in their ceaseless progress " on the road." She 
 had provided herself with vases, portieres, books 
 handsomely bound and illustrated; the tables were 
 draped with embroidered covers ; the two arm- 
 chairs were decorated with scarfs. He had called 
 these things her "properties," and had laugh- 
 ingly threatened to send them on ahead with the 
 stage effects of the troupe. Now he was touched 
 by the feminine longing for a home and its asso- 
 ciations which this tendency implied. For him- 
 self, his personal tastes were of the simplest ; per- 
 haps the attention to matters of effect and fabric 
 incident to his professional life had satisfied what- 
 ever predilection in that line he possessed. 
 
 When a man has been successful, flattered, ad- 
 mired, and always in the right, and when he sud- 
 denly discovers that he is in the wrong and his 
 feeling is deeply involved, expressions do not 
 readily present themselves. Keiinett's thought 
 was and at the time it was perfectly sincere 
 that his insensibility had been brutal. To her he 
 said nothing for some moments. 
 
 " Try to like us ! " he exclaimed at last, with 
 emotion. " There are some good men and women 
 among us. There are even some agreeable peo- 
 ple among us. Idealize us a little. Half the
 
 FELICIA. 197 
 
 world lives and is happy by means of illusions ; 
 why not you ? " 
 
 But even while he spoke there came upon him 
 a stunning realization that many conditions were 
 utterly metamorphosed by the changed point of 
 view. His toleration in judgment, which she had 
 once noticed, was exercised instinctively, good- 
 humoredly, but always impersonally. These men 
 and women, for example, whom he mentioned, 
 many of them sterling, hard-working, talented, 
 he could approve of them as members of society, 
 as his own casual associates, his comrades, his 
 friends. But it had not before occurred to him 
 that he had judged them leniently because he had 
 held himself a little just a very little above 
 them ; that for many complicated and subtle rea- 
 sons he condescended ; he felt himself a little 
 above the profession. It was a fine thing in its 
 way, and eminently calculated, taking into view 
 his peculiar order of talent, to advance him. He 
 felt that this was an absurd position for him to 
 have assumed. He was with the stage, he was 
 of it ; his family was identified with it, his father 
 and grandfather having been actors of consider- 
 able note; his interests were identical with the 
 interests of those he had unconsciously patro- 
 nized ; they were his circle ; they must necessarily 
 be his wife's circle, unless she preferred isolation. 
 
 The next day she went with him to rehearsal. 
 
 There was much to interest her in her new ex- 
 perience, and she did not observe that she herself
 
 198 FELICIA. 
 
 was the object of curiosity and covert attention on 
 the part of members of the troupe, as she sat in 
 the dim twilight of one of the proscenium boxes. 
 The huge empty semicircle of the auditorium was 
 unlighted save by a long slanting bar of sunshine 
 that shot adown the descent of the dress circle. 
 The stage also was dim, although several gas-jets 
 were burning. A number of men and women in 
 street attire were grouped about, presenting a 
 very different appearance from the glittering 
 throng of last night. Many of the faces were at 
 once curiously young and old. Some were care- 
 worn ; some were anxious ; some were bold ; some 
 were hard ; many told no story and held no mean- 
 ing. A man evidently in authority was talking 
 loudly and vivaciously ; now and then he walked 
 about fitfully, and occasionally he gesticulated in 
 illustration of his words. Most of his hearers had 
 so bored and inattentive a look that it might have 
 seemed worn of set purpose. The members of 
 the orchestra lounged in their places, their instru- 
 ments ready. 
 
 The weather had changed in the course of the 
 night ; a cold wind was blowing. The building 
 was not well heated, and from some opening at 
 the back of the stage came a strong draught, 
 bringing a damp, vault-like taste and odor. Feli- 
 cia, who had removed her wrap, an expensive fur 
 garment, more in keeping with her previous cir- 
 cumstances than her present, shivered slightly. 
 Kennett rose and readjusted it about her.
 
 FELICIA. 199 
 
 " Don't signalize the occasion by taking cold," 
 he said. 
 
 A voice behind him broke upon the air, a 
 mocking, musical, penetrating voice, subtly sug- 
 gestive of possibilities and of meanings not to be 
 lightly understood. 
 
 " ' Benedict, the married man ' ! " exclaimed the 
 voice. 
 
 Kennett turned his head. " Is that you, Ab- 
 bott ? " he said. " Come in." 
 
 Abbott entered, and seated himself near them. 
 
 " Don't let your husband lavish his care," he 
 continued. " It will not do for him to be thought- 
 ful and attentive, like any commonplace, good 
 husband." 
 
 " I think it is very proper for him to get my 
 cloak," returned Felicia, a trifle aggressively. 
 
 " That is only a little thing, but it shows which 
 way the wind blows." 
 
 " The wind seems to blow every way to-day," 
 interpolated Kennett, lightly. 
 
 " He has, or has had up to this time, a sort of 
 divine right to immunity from small cares ; it has 
 been his prerogative to make himself comfort- 
 able." 
 
 " Abbott thinks I am selfish," said Kennett. 
 
 "You are if you know what's good for you, 
 and don't you forget it," retorted Abbott, 
 quickly. 
 
 Felicia, irritated by the imputation and of- 
 fended by the slang, was silent for a moment, 
 but her interest in the subject prevailed.
 
 200 FELICIA. 
 
 " Why should he be selfish ? " she asked, stiffly. 
 
 " Because, when a man has a great future, he 
 can't give himself a thought too many." 
 
 " Has he a great future ? " 
 
 Abbott looked at her steadfastly, then at his 
 friend. Kennett's fine gray eyes rested tran- 
 quilly on Abbott's unquiet, expressive face, cut 
 by deep lines of hope, of disappointment, anxiety, 
 excesses ; his eyes, too, were gray, but eager, 
 fiery, restless, penetrating. The two men ex- 
 changed a long look. 
 
 " Well? " said Kennett, smiling. 
 
 " I don't know," answered Abbott, shortly. He 
 turned his face toward the stage. 
 
 Changes were in progress there. The talking 
 man was loquaciously retiring, looking over his 
 shoulder. A lady in a gray dress and cloak, and 
 with a black feather in her hat, had detached her- 
 self from the others, and advanced toward the 
 footlights. She glanced about her hardily, and 
 shrugged her shoulders with a show of contemp- 
 tuous impatience as the stage-manager's prelection 
 seemed suddenly to take a new lease, and he con- 
 tinued speaking. All at once he came to a stand- 
 still. " Now there 's your cue, Miss Johnson," he 
 said, " ' Me hopes, me honor, and me broken 
 heart ! ' Go 'n ! " very peremptorily. 
 
 She began to declaim in the loud, hard stage 
 voice which has so unnatural a sound in an empty 
 theatre. 
 
 A man with a worn face and a blase air had
 
 FELICIA. 201 
 
 placed himself near her, and at his cue took part 
 in one of those dialogues so useful as connecting 
 links of the story. Little of action was required, 
 but even that little was not satisfactory ; the talk- 
 ing man found it desirable several times to dart 
 forward and eagerly correct, explain, and suggest. 
 At last there came a rap of the conductor's baton, 
 the members of the orchestra were tense and 
 alert in their places ; another rap, the dialogue 
 developed into a duet, and the duet was succeeded 
 by a chorus. 
 
 It had seemed to Felicia that disproportionate 
 care and work were requisite for individual excel- 
 lence ; she now saw that even more were neces- 
 sary to produce a good ensemble effect. Again 
 and again the sharp raps of the baton resounded 
 with a peremptory negative intention, which 
 brought a sudden silence, invaded in a moment 
 by the melancholy voice of the Gallic leader, with 
 unexpected pauses and despairing inflections. 
 
 " That was 'orrible, 'orrible, 'orrible ! " he said, 
 definitely ; or, " A mos' slovenly atta.0 1 ! " or, 
 " Tenors, you sing a minor third instead of a ma- 
 jor third ; " or, " Mon Dieu ! Sopranos ! So- 
 pranos, you are j#- W-a / " 
 
 When at last the chorus was progressing 
 smoothly Kennett rose. 
 
 " Au revoir" he said to Felicia ; and she fan- 
 cied that there was something propitiatory, even 
 appealing, in his expression. Did he recommend 
 Abbott to her leniency, and vicariously deprecate 
 her criticism ?
 
 202 FELICIA. 
 
 " Now Kennett will warble O. K., you bet your 
 life," Abbott said. 
 
 He misunderstood the haughty displeasure on 
 her face. All the nicer issues of social training 
 were as a sealed book to him. He did not dream 
 that the rudeness of his phrase was in her estima- 
 tion intolerable ; that she deemed slang unless, 
 indeed, it were the trick of expression of " the 
 best people," and not fairly to be called slang at 
 all an affront to her and a degradation to him. 
 He placed his own interpretation on her evident 
 intolerance. 
 
 " Confound the little idiot, she is ashamed of 
 him ! " he thought, angrily. " She must have 
 married him in a freak. She considers herself 
 too good for him. And he with the best voice of 
 its class in America ! " 
 
 He looked at her resentfully. 
 
 Her attention had become riveted on what was 
 in progress before her. She had noticed, the 
 previous evening, the marked effect of Kennett's 
 presence on the stage. Life was infused into the 
 inert business ; among the other singers there was 
 sudden alertness of glance and intention ; the ac- 
 tion began to revolve about him as if animated by 
 his controlling thought ; smoothness and ease re- 
 placed mere mechanical effort, under the strong 
 influence of an intelligent enthusiasm and a mag- 
 netic personality. 
 
 The manager, at the back of the stage, leaned 
 against the frame of the canvas, took off his hat v
 
 FELICIA. 203 
 
 mopped his face with his handkerchief, and ut- 
 tered an audible " Whew-w ! " in which were in- 
 fused both fatigue and relief. Abbott called Feli- 
 cia's attention to him. 
 
 "The governor feels easier now that Kennett 
 is on. He 's worked pretty hard to-day. Looks 
 all tore up, don't he ? " 
 
 Felicia disdained to say that the governor did 
 or did not look " tore up." 
 
 " You see that woman with dark hair, in a 
 black dress ? She is under-studying Miss Brady. 
 She can sing if she only has a chance. You bet 
 your sweet life she goes into some church after 
 every rehearsal, and prays God Almighty and 
 the saints that the other woman may get run over 
 by the street-car or the fire-engine, or something." 
 He looked with a laugh into Felicia's horror- 
 stricken eyes. " For a fact she does. Told me 
 so herself. You see she 's waiting for her promo- 
 tion. She used to be with the Vilette Company, 
 until they went to pieces last fall ; then she " 
 
 Felicia lifted her hand imperiously, imposing 
 silence. " He is going to sing." 
 
 There had floated upon the air a prelude famil- 
 iar to her. She leaned slightly forward, her eyes 
 on him while he sang, all unconscious that Ab- 
 bott's eyes were on her. No man, especially with 
 the soul of an artist in him, could misinterpret 
 that expression ; her face was for the moment 
 transfigured by the emotion upon it, so proud, 
 so tender, so absolutely enthralling, was it, as 
 intense and as delicate as white fire.
 
 204 FELICIA. 
 
 Abbott looked at her meditatively. " The 
 man," he said to himself, " has got a big possibil- 
 ity in the future ; and the woman thinks small 
 beer of his future, and don't care a continental 
 for his best possibility ; and, God help 'em, they 
 love each other. Now, what are they going to do 
 about it ? " 
 
 He cogitated on this subject for some time. 
 Finally he rose, left the box unobserved, and went 
 to wait for his cue at one of the wings. 
 
 Under the ethereal fire of those violet eyes, the 
 man with a possibility in his future sang well 
 that day. The members of the orchestra laid 
 down their instruments and applauded. The 
 stage manager bawled that it would be an easier 
 world if there were more like him. The other 
 singers looked at him with eyes animated by every 
 degree of intelligent admiration and appreciative 
 envy. It seemed to Felicia that it was distinctly 
 an ovation he was receiving ; she wondered that 
 adulation had not spoiled him. She did not real- 
 ize that with a fully equipped capacity ambition 
 dwarfs possession. 
 
 As he went off, he encountered Abbott in the 
 narrow passway between two " sets." Each 
 placed his hands on his friend's shoulders and 
 looked long into his eyes. 
 
 " Well ? " said Kennett, in the tone with which 
 he had uttered the word an hour before. 
 
 " If this world does not offer you everything 
 heart can desire in the next five years, it will be
 
 FELICIA. 205 
 
 your own fault or your wife's fault ! " cried 
 Abbott, with the thrill of sincere feeling in his 
 voice. 
 
 " I shall have everything that heart can desire ! " 
 exclaimed Kennett, airily. " There 's your cue, 
 old fellow." And he went back, with a satisfied 
 smile, to Felicia. 
 
 He noticed, as the rehearsal proceeded, that 
 Preston often looked with some wistfulness at 
 their box, as he lounged at the back of the stage 
 and about the wings. During one of the waits 
 he stood near them, and Kennett called him in 
 an undertone. 
 
 " I must go on again in a few moments," he 
 said to Felicia, " but Preston will come and talk 
 to you." 
 
 Preston was evidently pleased and flattered, 
 but to Felicia's surprise he was inclined to taci- 
 turnity. He was bold enough among men, in 
 fact, he was sometimes accused of impudence, 
 and not too gentle and meek with the women 
 with whom he was usually thrown. In the little 
 world of the troupe he was considered by the fem- 
 inine members a singing Adonis, and was greatly 
 approved ; with them he was gay, boisterous, flip- 
 pant. But with Felicia he was shy. He was 
 quick of perception : when she bent her violet 
 eyes upon him and allowed her gracious smile to 
 rest on her lips, he apprehended that the gentle 
 demonstration was merely a surface effect ; it was 
 not the flattering; and flattered smile he was accus-
 
 206 FELICIA. 
 
 tomed to receive. He appreciated the dignity 
 underlying the soft exterior of her manner, and 
 realized that she probably had a distinct ideal of 
 the proper thing to be and to feel, to which he 
 might not altogether conform. This sort of influ- 
 ence makes many a man restive and defiant, and 
 it is to Oliver Preston's credit that he was a trifle 
 timid and propitiatory. 
 
 Their conversation, constrained at first, grew 
 gradually more easy. She drew him on to talk 
 of himself. She saw presently that he was not 
 by any means so young as his boyish manner 
 and regular, delicate features made him seem. 
 With her alert interest in the vivid drama of life 
 and character, she speculated on this existence 
 of his, and the strange fact that excitement and 
 variety do not make the inroads on mind and 
 body which are compassed by inaction and tran- 
 quillity. He had happened to mention that he 
 was thirty-two years old. " At that age men in 
 little country towns are advancing into middle 
 life," she said to herself, " while he has the buoy- 
 ancy, and to all intents the youthfulness, of 
 twenty." 
 
 After a time she was struck by something un- 
 feeling in his tone, the more objectionable in 
 that he was unconscious of it. When the contralto 
 was sharply reprimanded for a mistake in a short 
 interjectionary phrase, which threw the other sing- 
 ers out and necessitated repetition, he laughed 
 with genuine gusto that she should become con-
 
 FELICIA. 207 
 
 fused, blunder again, then dash at her phrase with 
 ludicrous precipitancy. "What a fool!" he said, 
 contemptuously. " And flat besides." 
 
 He listened with great attention while Abbott 
 sang a solo, and said at its close : 
 
 " Abbott will never get much further than he 
 has already gone. He is limited," he added, with 
 a certain complacence. 
 
 " I think he has a very beautiful voice," re- 
 marked Felicia. 
 
 He reflected a moment. 
 
 " Yes, it is sympathetic and true, and it has a 
 vibrating quality, but it is uneven ; both the upper 
 and lower registers are better than the middle. 
 Then he works spasmodically ; he is kept down 
 by his habits. Sometimes he does pretty well for 
 a while ; then he '11 take to drinking. He drinks 
 like a fish. And he gambles; and that keeps him 
 'poor as Job's turkey, as he often says himself. 
 He always has hard luck and he always expects a 
 streak of good luck. So he is continually in a 
 state of anxiety and agitation. And that is very 
 bad for the voice. He used to be ambitious. He 
 used to think he would make a great success, but 
 I believe he has given up all hope for that now." 
 
 " Oh-h ! " exclaimed Felicia, regretfully. 
 
 "Abbott says," continued Preston, "when he 
 sees how Kennett is running for the cup, he feels 
 like a man who has been buried alive. He says, 
 though, he wants Kennett to win the race. That 
 is what he would do if he could get out from 
 under the ground."
 
 208 FELICIA. 
 
 This figure of a despairing and buried ambi- 
 tion, and this wistful and generous acceptance of 
 an humble share in another man's triumph, de- 
 nied to him, touched Felicia. She looked with 
 meditative pity at Abbott's ugly, expressive face, 
 with its spent fires and spoiled purposes. His 
 melodious voice was at its best in the soft melan- 
 choly of love-songs ; he was singing a serenade 
 now, and the building was filled with the insistent 
 iteration of tender strains. 
 
 " ' Buried alive,' " she repeated. " I think it is 
 very sad that he should feel that." 
 
 " I think it is very funny," said Preston, with 
 a rich ha ! ha ! He really thought so. Tragedy 
 of feeling was, in his opinion, good stuff to act ; 
 as to sympathizing with a man's heart-break, how 
 could he understand a language as foreign to him 
 as if spoken by the inhabitants of Jupiter or 
 Mars? He lived in another world. 
 
 " Why does he drink, then ? " he asked, after 
 a pause, as if realizing that something deeper was 
 expected of him, and vaguely defending himself. 
 " No fellow pays him anything for drinking." 
 
 He was regaining his usual mental attitude, 
 which was a trifle dictatorial and tyrannical, as 
 that of a spoiled young fellow is apt to be. 
 When he presently went on, he said in a grum- 
 bled aside to Abbott that Kennett had all the 
 luck, got all the plums, a big salary, and man- 
 agers always patting him on the back, and now 
 marrying " a tip-top woman like that."
 
 FELICIA. 209 
 
 As the rehearsal drew toward its close, a marked 
 change was perceptible in the spirit of the per- 
 formers. An air of great fatigue had come upon 
 them, and the lassitude which accompanies con- 
 tinuous and exhausting effort of brain and body. 
 With the physical break-down the moral supports 
 gave way ; they were evidently as cross as they 
 dared to be. The stage-manager was more eager, 
 excited, and far more impatient than when the 
 morning's work began. The conductor some- 
 times laid down the baton, rubbed with both sin- 
 ewy hands the wisps of scanty hair on each side 
 of his brow, took off his spectacles, replaced them, 
 and resumed the baton with a loud, long sigh. 
 Of the singers, Kennett only was unharassed. 
 " I suppose that is part of his system of ' running 
 for the cup,' " thought Felicia. 
 
 It seemed to her that the performers took plea- 
 sure in annoying each other, and presently this 
 theory received confirmation. One of the chorus 
 a small girl, with a dainty figure, a pert face, 
 black hair, and a somewhat conspicuous dress of 
 red and black plaid had been more than once 
 called sharply to order for inattention. After the 
 last of these episodes, as the music, which was in 
 valse time, recommenced, she defiantly placed her 
 arms akimbo, tossed her head saucily, and began 
 to balance herself with the perfunctory dance- 
 steps which, with appropriate costumes, serve for 
 the ball-room illusion in the modern light opera. 
 She looked mischievously at the tenors near her,
 
 210 
 
 FELICIA. 
 
 and a few of the younger men laughed, but the 
 others discreetly kept their eyes before them, and 
 forbore to smile. The manager, in a rage, stopped 
 the orchestra, and advanced upon her with an oath 
 that was like a roar. 
 
 " Quit that damned monkeying ! " He caught 
 her arm and thrust her back to her place ; then, 
 as he turned, a sudden thought struck him. He 
 wheeled abruptly, and, with a grotesque imitation 
 of her attitude, ludicrously caricatured her dan- 
 cing. She shrank back, blushing and discomfited, 
 as a peal of appreciative laughter rewarded the 
 managerial pleasantry. 
 
 When he had advanced upon the girl with that 
 loud oath, Felicia had cowered as if herself threat- 
 ened by a blow. She glanced at the other men, 
 in expectation of their interference. Abbott's 
 mouth was distorted by an abnormal grin. Ken- 
 nett was looking with a contemptuous smile from 
 the absurdly dancing manager to the equally ab- 
 surd victim. Preston's handsome head was thrown 
 back ; his white teeth gleamed under his black 
 mustache, while the building echoed with his de- 
 lighted laughter. 
 
 The chorus was the last work of the day, and 
 as Kennett rejoined his wife he found her standing 
 at the entrance of the box with brilliant cheeks 
 and flashing eyes. 
 
 "Why didn't you strike him, Hugh? Why 
 did n't you knock him down ? " she cried, impul- 
 sively.
 
 FELICIA. 211 
 
 " Who ? " he demanded, in amaze. 
 
 " That man, that stage-manager." 
 
 " For what ? " he asked, completely at sea. 
 
 "For swearing at that girl, and pushing her, 
 and mocking her." 
 
 He looked at her in silence. 
 
 " Felicia," said Hugh Kennett at last, with a 
 long-drawn breath, " I would not imperil my pros- 
 pects by striking a stage-manager for the sake of 
 any chorus-girl on the face of the earth." 
 
 She thought at the moment that this was cruel 
 and selfish to the last degree.
 
 XL 
 
 WITH something of the spirit, the serious ab- 
 sorption, the singleness of aim, the intensity, the 
 concentration, which animate the student in pur- 
 suit of learning, or the man of affairs in the con- 
 duct of enterprise, Felicia entered upon the un- 
 tried phase of her dual life ; her role was now 
 that of the singer's wife. She familiarized her- 
 self with the details of her husband's work. She 
 accompanied him to every rehearsal and every 
 pei'formance. She promised herself that she 
 would not permit extraneous matters to assume 
 an importance which did not of right attach to 
 them. Money, luxury, society, congenial associa- 
 tion, these were merely accessories, unimpor- 
 tant compared with the great fundamental fact of 
 duty. She told herself that she had no right to 
 come into his life, aware of its incongruities, and 
 injure his future. As to the worthiness of his 
 career as a career, who was to judge? She ac- 
 knowledged the artificialities of her standards ; 
 she admitted to herself that if the world her 
 world held his vocation in as high esteem as the 
 law, medicine, literature, politics, the army, the 
 navy, she would not object to the thing itself. 
 As to the influences, he had become what he was
 
 FELICIA. 213 
 
 perhaps in spite of them, but certainly subjected 
 to them. She would not be petty-minded, she de- 
 clared. The man had a gift and an ideal; she 
 would help him conserve the one and attain the 
 other. She would control her exacting taste ; 
 after all, taste should be a useful servant, not a 
 tyrannical master. She would see deeper than 
 the surface of Bohemianism, into the lives of 
 these people with whom she was surrounded, 
 their pathos, their struggle, their strength, their 
 fervor. She had known life in one phase only, 
 so far ; she would know it in another, widely dif- 
 ferent. In the contemplation of these new con- 
 ditions she would grow wiser and stronger, clearer 
 of vision, more calm of pm-pose, more tender of 
 heart ; development was her duty as well as his. 
 
 It was dreary work. All her natural instincts 
 and the strong effects of her education were mar- 
 shaled against her will. She could not always 
 recognize and adequately gauge excellence of 
 achievement, she had not reached the very vesti- 
 bule of the great temple of art ; yet she was con- 
 stantly incited to revolt when she was brought 
 face to face with the spectacle of warped sensi- 
 bilities, solecisms of manner, the grinding and be- 
 littling influences of a desperate struggle for pre- 
 cedence and a constant contention for place. She 
 saw much selfish scheming, much infirmity of tem- 
 per, much envy and jealousy. These people were 
 banded together by a common interest, the suc- 
 cess of the troupe; they were opposed to each
 
 214 FELICIA. 
 
 other by the intense antagonisms of professional 
 rivalry. That any should not succeed injured the 
 others, yet each grudged every round of applause 
 as the deprivation of a vested right. Thus capaci- 
 ties which would appear to admit of no compari- 
 son were bitterly contrasted : the contralto hated 
 the tenor because of his encore for the love-song, 
 and the basso could not forgive the soprano for 
 the trippingness of her execution. The chival- 
 rous instinct seemed dead among the men, who 
 were as envious and small-minded as the women ; 
 the instinct of conciliation seemed lacking among 
 the women, who were as assertive and antagonistic 
 as the men. It was an army vigorously at war 
 with the enemy while torn by internal conflict. 
 For them to indulge in the tender and ennobling 
 luxuries of generosity and self-abnegation was to 
 bare the throat to a willing sabre close at hand, 
 without waiting for the possible minie-ball of the 
 public a little later. To rise above such a mental 
 and moral plane was, through exceptional gifts 
 and the tyranny of a life dedication, to grow by 
 slow and painful degrees to the state of facile 
 princeps among them. 
 
 Kennett, somewhat indefinitely apprehending 
 the maze of conflicting emotions which possessed 
 her, had, with some eagerness, asked her impres- 
 sions of that first rehearsal. 
 
 "You found it very entertaining, did you not?" 
 he said, in the tone of one who would fain con- 
 strain a favorable opinion.
 
 FELICIA. 215 
 
 Yes, she had found it very entertaining. 
 
 " You are interested in human nature," he con- 
 tinued, in the same spirit. " You like to study 
 people, and think you understand your fellow- 
 creatures. Can you analyze those two men to 
 whom you were talking to-day ? " 
 
 " I think," said Felicia, meditatively, " that 
 Mr. Abbott is a kindly disposed man, but he can 
 do and say very unkind things. He pines to 
 make other people suffer with him. ' I will burn, 
 thou shalt sizzle,' that 's Mr. Abbott's motto." 
 
 Kennett thought this over in silence for a mo- 
 ment. " Rather a good guess," he admitted. 
 " And Preston ? " 
 
 She laughed. " Preston is Preston" she 
 said ; " and so are all philosophies, and creeds, 
 and arts, and sciences, all Preston. If this 
 city and the troupe were swallowed in an earth- 
 quake, what would he care, if he were left ! 
 There are other cities with opera-houses, and 
 other troupes in need of a basso, and other friends 
 to b,e had for the asking. That is Preston." 
 
 Kennett had become grave. " Felicia," he said, 
 " your insight is almost terrible." 
 
 " There was at any rate one interesting person 
 on that stage to-day," declared Felicia, suddenly. 
 " That mezzo-soprano ; don : t you remember? She 
 is intelligent and gentle. She has a nice face." 
 
 He looked at her with slightly raised eyebrows. 
 " She is Mrs. Branner," he remarked. He was 
 silent a moment ; then, with a slight laugh, " I
 
 216 FELICIA. 
 
 take back what I said. You have no insight at 
 all." 
 
 In this life of his before the public, Kennett 
 was much like a man on a trapeze : every mo- 
 ment was a crisis. However strong a matter of 
 feeling might be, other importunate considera- 
 tions pressed rival claims which could not be put 
 off or lightly estimated. Thus it was that he did 
 not entirely apprehend the complication of mo- 
 tives which induced Felicia to offer to play the 
 accompaniment, one day when he was about to 
 practice. He agreed, after a scarcely perceptible 
 hesitation, and relinquished the piano-stool. 
 
 From an amateur standpoint she played very 
 well. She had facility, a sympathetic touch, and 
 was a fairly good timist. But in music there is a 
 wide gulf between the average amateur and the 
 average professional. The perfect exactitude, the 
 delicate machine-work, requisite for an acceptable 
 accompaniment were lacking. He endured it for 
 a time ; then, with a comical look of despair, he 
 clutched at his hair as if tearing an invisible wig, 
 and swept her from the stool. 
 
 " The little public must continue to adorn the 
 proscenium box," he said, " for she is not a suc- 
 cess as an orchestra." 
 
 "I had thought of practicing," declared Felicia, 
 ruefully. " I had an idea of playing your accom- 
 paniments." 
 
 "It is not worth while to undertake all that 
 drudgery," he returned.
 
 FELICIA. 217 
 
 He was more interested, since it was more defi- 
 nitely in his own line, when she said, some days 
 later, that she contemplated taking up singing. 
 " Only for amusement," she added, quickly. Once 
 she would not have felt thus humbly as to her ac- 
 complishments, but she had by this time discov- 
 ered the wild absurdity embodied in the pleasing 
 delusion indulged in by the show pupils of the 
 fashionable boarding-schools, the delusion that 
 in point of musical merit their natural voices and 
 their culture would enable them to vie with the 
 lady in white satin and diamonds, charming an 
 audience before the footlights. 
 
 He tried her voice and put her through several 
 songs in various styles. He said she had a good 
 soprano, not remarkable for compass ; light, but 
 even and pleasant in quality. He added, how- 
 ever, that, to do anything worth mentioning, she 
 must elaborately unlearn all that she had ac- 
 quired as a " show society pupil " from Signer 
 Biancionelli ; she must begin at the beginning, 
 and build up a training from the very foundation- 
 stones. He offered to teach her himself, if she 
 liked ; no doubt she would do pretty well, by dint 
 of working hard. 
 
 " You see you have not been taught to sing," 
 he explained, lucidly ; " you have only learned, 
 after a fashion, some songs." 
 
 She said, unconsciously repeating his phrase, 
 that it was hardly worth while to go through so 
 much drudgery.
 
 218 FELICIA. 
 
 Often, sitting alone in the box, she took 
 thought of her own position. What was she to 
 do with her life ? she asked herself. She could 
 not fully share his, that was evident. She 
 could not be useful as incentive, as support. He 
 did not need her. He stood alone. She could 
 not absorb herself in his pursuits ; she was nei- 
 ther fitted nor schooled. She could not absorb 
 herself in pursuits of her own. In what line was 
 she equipped? In none more definitely than in 
 music ; in any she would need preliminary train- 
 ing. " And one does not begin at twenty-three," 
 she reflected. "When I was made to study so 
 much, why was I not taught something ? " She 
 did not formulate the theory, but she appreciated 
 it as a fact that now, under the influence of strong 
 feeling, groping among foreign conditions for the 
 solution of the serious problems of her life, the 
 heavy and uninteresting details of preparatory 
 drudgery, without the support, as incentive, of 
 an ultimate object and a controlling talent, would 
 be as impossible to her as the aimless and desul- 
 tory distraction of fancy-work and novel-reading. 
 As to other absorptions which claim the attention 
 of many women, charities, hospitals, educa- 
 tional movements, pursuits which might be 
 called community interests, she had heard so 
 vaguely, if at all, of these channels of thought 
 and endeavor that they represented a world as 
 completely removed from her ken as this world 
 of musical life had once been, and they could of
 
 FELICIA. 219 
 
 necessity offer her no suggestion ; it might be 
 doubted, too, if hers was of the natures which find 
 their expression in community interests. 
 
 And again, what was she to do with her life, 
 not that full-pulsed existence of emotion which 
 had absorbed her, but this other imperative indi- 
 viduality which was, day by day, more definitely 
 pushing its demands, her intentions, her time, 
 her idle energy ? Was it possible to live entirely 
 in the contemplation of another's life, which yet 
 she could not share ; to relinquish a thoroughly 
 vital entity for a passive acquiescence, for an utter 
 aloofness ? This was hardly life at all ; it was al- 
 most annihilation ; it was a sort of self-murder, 
 thus to destroy her identity. " Does it die hard, 
 I wonder, one's identity ? " she thought, a little 
 wistful, a little appalled. 
 
 And Kennett was very intent that the exacting 
 public should be more than satisfied. What duty 
 was so obvious as that the balancing-pole should 
 be in readiness, the rope stretched tightly? When 
 a man's professional existence is at stake, it be- 
 hooves him to have his faculties and all the appli- 
 ances at command. This allegro requires a trifle 
 more of fire ; there should be a rallentando here ; 
 and here the sentiment calls for a tendresse, 
 which must be given with an " out-breathed ef- 
 fect ; " and ah, gracious powers ! the brasses must 
 be softened in that passage ! 
 
 Up to this time the callers at the box had been 
 the gentlemen of the troupe. Abbott and Pres-
 
 220 FELICIA. 
 
 ton had come in frequently ; one day Kennett had 
 introduced Whitmarsh, a showy blond English- 
 man, oppressively friendly with him, and so pro- 
 pitiatory to her that she deduced the fact that he 
 must dislike Hugh very much indeed. Several 
 times the manager of the company had sat with 
 her half an hour or so, and once he had taken her 
 behind the scenes, and explained the mechanism 
 of ropes and pulleys, and the big " sets " and 
 flies. He was as different from her preconceived 
 idea of a theatrical manager as he well could be : 
 a quiet man, with a wife and six children at home. 
 He once showed her their photographs, and was 
 inclined to be homesick when he came to that of 
 the year-old baby, a chubby fellow-citizen, whose 
 portentous frown was the most conspicuous fea- 
 ture of the picture. 
 
 One morning she had a new caller, a lady. 
 She glanced up at a sound behind her, and saw, 
 hesitating at the door of the box, the Mrs. Bran- 
 ner who had earlier attracted her attention. 
 
 " May I come in and talk to you a little ? " 
 asked the stranger. 
 
 Felicia's instinct for politeness was the strong- 
 est and the most carefully cultivated instinct of 
 her nature. 
 
 " I shall be very happy," she said with cordial- 
 ity, and the visitor entered and seated herself. 
 
 Mrs. Branner had a very soft and gentle man- 
 ner, so soft and gentle as to suggest the purring 
 of a cat. There was something feline about her
 
 FELICIA. 221 
 
 face : her mouth was large, and had a tendency 
 to curve upward at the corners ; her face was 
 wide and short ; her eyes were gray, and she had 
 a habit of narrowing them. Yet she was dis- 
 tinctly a pretty woman : her complexion was de- 
 lightful in its warm fairness ; her nose was 
 straight and delicate ; her eyebrows and lashes 
 were dark ; she had dense fair hair, and was tall 
 and graceful. 
 
 " I am afraid I have taken a liberty, but I 
 want so much to know you," she said, with a man- 
 ner of much simplicity and candor; her face was 
 very sweet when she smiled. "I hope you are 
 not lonely. I am told that you are far away 
 from your own people, and new to all this. I 
 hope you like it." 
 
 It had been so long since Felicia had heard any 
 woman, except an Irish or German hotel cham- 
 bermaid, speak to her that this tone of sympathy, 
 of fellowship, this sudden reverting to an element 
 which she had supposed she prized but slightly, 
 friendship with her own sex, almost overcame her. 
 Her voice faltered as she replied : 
 
 " Not exactly lonely, but a little well, 
 strange." 
 
 *' I can imagine it. Now, as for me, I have 
 known nothing else. Since I can remember I 
 have been on the stage." 
 
 " Do you like the life?" asked Felicia. 
 
 Mrs. Branner shook her head. 
 
 " It is, a terrible life. I saw once in a book or
 
 222 FELICIA. 
 
 a newspaper that the stage is like a vampire : so 
 much feigning deprives one of one's own nature, 
 as a vampire sucks the blood." 
 
 Felicia thought it denoted delicacy of feeling to 
 realize this. She looked attentively at her new 
 acquaintance. It was an odd, intelligent face, 
 she fancied, expressing sensitiveness. 
 
 To measure the silent potent influences of cir- 
 cumstances on character and intellect is a feat 
 that can be accomplished only vaguely and clum- 
 sily by results. In the last year Felicia had ex- 
 perienced a wide range of emotions : she had 
 sounded the depths of her own heart ; she had 
 undergone the strong shock of severing abruptly 
 all the close ties, associations, and traditions she 
 had ever known ; she was even yet entangled in 
 the complicated web of thought and sentiment 
 involved in adjusting herself to a new and diffi- 
 cult situation ; having been the active and con- 
 trolling centre of her world, she had become the 
 passive spectator of a world of outside life, in 
 which she had no part, and for which she could 
 discover no substitute ; and she was still in the 
 thrall of the most imperative and intense feeling 
 of which she was capable. 
 
 Perhaps she was thus an illustration of the 
 theory that the possibilities of the emotional na- 
 ture are cultivated at the expense of the attri- 
 butes of the intellect; perhaps the simpler ex- 
 planation involved in the fact of the loneliness 
 induced by her semi-isolation was the correct ex-
 
 FELICIA. 
 
 planation. Certainly her judgment was much at 
 fault. A year ago she would have seen, as now, 
 that Mrs. Branner's was an intelligent face, but 
 she would not have credited it with sensitiveness ; 
 she would have detected the artificiality lurking 
 beneath the purring manner ; she would have 
 known intuitively that the visitor was playing a 
 part, very nicely, very prettily, the part to 
 which she had become so habituated that it was 
 indeed almost second nature, and the most insidi- 
 ously attractive she could assume, but still and 
 always playing. 
 
 Felicia discovered nothing. She entered with 
 flattering zeal upon the topics that presented 
 themselves, a wide range, from the plot of the 
 opera, playwriting in general, acting and actors, 
 music, orchestral and lyric, down to fancy - work 
 and even the fashions. This last solecism would 
 have been impossible to her a year before. But 
 with the sudden drifting into the current of femi- 
 nine interests and feeling, her fastidious taste 
 loosed its hold. 
 
 Kennett, looking on from the stage, marveled 
 that she should have become so animated : she 
 was talking vivaciously, eagerly, almost convul- 
 sively ; she laughed out gleefully, and caught her- 
 self like a child at school. When Mrs. Branner 
 had left her, she sat watching the proceedings 
 with smiling eyes. Kennett had little to say 
 when he joined his wife, and they returned to the 
 hotel. " Yes, yes," he admitted, with a shade of
 
 224 FELICIA. 
 
 impatience in his voice, " Mrs. Branner seems to 
 be very pleasant." 
 
 " It is so delightful to meet an agreeable wo- 
 man," declared Felicia. " I did n't appreciate 
 that there is such a sameness in having only men 
 acquaintances. When I was a girl," she went on, 
 maturely, " I did n't care much for other women. 
 I was interested principally in the adorers." 
 
 " And now, having a permanent adorer, it is 
 the other way, I suppose," he remarked, a little 
 absently. 
 
 " And was n't it an odd coincidence," cried Fe- 
 licia, removing her head-gear, and looking at it 
 with an animated srnile, " that we should be 
 dressed almost exactly alike? she noticed it, 
 too, black dresses, and black bonnets, and old- 
 gold ribbons. She noticed it, too ! " 
 
 " I wish you would not wear that color ! " he 
 exclaimed, impatiently. " I detest it, and it is 
 very unbecoming to you." 
 
 She looked at him in surprise. " Well, don't 
 be cross about it," she said, coaxingly. " I will 
 not wear it if you dislike it. It is rather extrava- 
 gant to throw away this picot ribbon,'' she added, 
 surveying the garniture of her bonnet. " 1 wish 
 I had known of your antipathy before I bought 
 it." 
 
 "And have this thing re-lined," he resumed, 
 irritably, opening her parasol, looking at it sourly, 
 and giving it a flip that sent it sailing across the 
 room and lauded it neatly on the sofa.
 
 FELICIA. 225 
 
 Felicia was still contemplating the ribbons. 
 " They need n't be wasted, after all ! " she de- 
 clared, as if making a valuable discovery. "I 
 can use them in a crazy-quilt. How I used to 
 laugh at Amy's crazy-quilt ! Did I ever think I 
 should condescend to artistic patchwork ! Mrs. 
 Branner promised to show me exactly how to do 
 it. She thinks it perfectly fascinating ! " 
 
 He controlled himself. He did not say " Con- 
 found Mrs. Branner ! " until after he had shut the 
 door. 
 
 Then, as he tramped down the hall, he realized 
 that he was unreasonable. He could not wipe 
 out all the colors of the rainbow, and Mrs. Bran- 
 ner might elect to wear Felicia's favorite gray or 
 violet to-morrow. As to the noble science of 
 crazy-quilting, it would survive his displeasure, 
 and long serve as a tie between the sane and 
 gifted mortals who affect it. 
 
 He watched in silent exasperation the acquaint- 
 ance progress. Mrs. Branner came into the box 
 every morning, to beguile the tedium of the long 
 rehearsals. Twice she called at the hotel. On 
 both occasions Felicia chanced to be out, but she 
 said she intended to return these calls. One after- 
 noon, as Kennett stood in the reading-room, he saw 
 the two coming together down the street. They 
 were talking earnestly, and did not observe him. 
 They parted at the door, and Felicia entered the 
 hotel. He lingered, looking out aimlessly; pres- 
 ently, however, he took his way upstairs.
 
 226 FELICIA. 
 
 Felicia had removed her hat and light wrap, 
 and was sitting beside the open window. Spring 
 had come at last, distinctly and definitely, evi- 
 dently with the intention of staying.' There was 
 a soft relaxation in the air. The golden sunlight 
 sifted down from an infinitely dainty blue sky. 
 The gentle breeze, bringing the pleasant breath 
 of moisture, brought also the odor of cigar-smoke, 
 and the roll of carriages passing swiftly on the 
 way to and from the park, and the cries of boys 
 with the evening papers. Through the foliage, 
 vividly yt delicately green, in the square opposite 
 the hotel, the chattering English sparrows flitted; 
 sometimes the voices of children arose, also chat- 
 teringly, from the walks beneath. A big bronze 
 figure looked down, with inscrutable eyes, from 
 its pedestal. Despite the softness, the revivifying 
 influence of the season was asserting itself. The 
 prosaic duty of living was all at once metamor- 
 phosed into a privilege, and one's dearest desires 
 assumed the aspect of a friendly possibility. Fe- 
 licia was under this benignant vernal spell as she 
 gazed out dreamily at the changing pageantry of 
 the street below. She did not turn her head as 
 Kennett entered. 
 
 " Come and sit by the window," she said j " it 
 is such a lovely day." 
 
 He crossed the room, but instead of taking a 
 chair he stood leaning against the window-frame 
 and looking down at her. He could not have 
 made even an unreasonable objection to the color
 
 FELICIA. 227 
 
 she was wearing to-day, a delicate fawn-tinted 
 costume, in several " tones," as the fashion experts 
 say. The fabric, a light woolen goods, fell in soft 
 folds about her; the shade brought out the ex- 
 treme fairness of her complexion, and deepened 
 the color of her eyes and lips ; her cheeks were 
 flushed ; she had a bunch of creamy Marechal 
 Niel rosebuds in her hand, and had fastened oth- 
 ers in the bosom of her dress. 
 
 "Well?" she said, glancing up as he hesitated. 
 
 " Well," he began, " I want to make a sugges- 
 tion. Were you out with Mrs. Branner this af- 
 ternoon ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Felicia, vivaciously. " We 
 went shopping. Would n't you like to see what 
 I bought ? " with swift generosity. 
 
 He detained her with a gesture, as she was 
 about to rise. " No, not now." He had been 
 sufficiently impressed by the fact that the univer- 
 sal dictum as to the extravagance of young ladies 
 of her station is not idle caviling, if the class 
 must be judged by Felicia. It was not that she 
 spent money from ostentation or because she had 
 many needs, but merely because she could not 
 help it. To buy whatever struck her fancy 
 seemed to her as reasonable as to inhale the 
 breath of her roses, a pleasure which was a mat- 
 ter of course. He had not as yet said anything 
 to check her. He was still much in love, and was 
 weak where she was concerned. He remembered 
 that her lavishness was the habit of her life, and
 
 228 FELICIA. 
 
 reminded himself of the peculiar difficulties and 
 deprivations of her position. He always wound 
 up his cogitations with the determination that he 
 would " soon " have a serious talk with her, and 
 propose that they should cut down expenses. He 
 felt satisfied that she would prove amenable, but 
 he dreaded her puzzled and pained acquiescence 
 more than resistance and reproaches. For many 
 reasons, he was not now in the humor to sympa- 
 thetically gloat over her new treasures. 
 
 " No," he said, peremptorily. " I want to talk 
 to you." 
 
 She sank back, leaving something unfinished 
 about " the loveliest Escurial lace." 
 
 " I don't want you to go about with Mrs. Bran- 
 ner," he said. 
 
 " I believe you are jealous of Mrs. Branner ! " 
 cried Felicia, breaking into joyous laughter. 
 " Dear me ! what an opportunity I threw away 
 last summer! I did not once make you jealous. 
 I did not play off any one against you the whole 
 time." 
 
 " You could n't play a part," he declared, drift- 
 ing into the digression. " You would n't know how 
 to dissimulate. I often wonder how a woman 
 trained by Madame Sevier can be so frank." 
 
 " I am my father's daughter as well as Madame 
 Sevier's pupil," said Felicia, her eyes filling sud- 
 denly, as they always did at the mention of her 
 father. 
 
 " Well, lie, is frank," remarked Hugh Kennett, 
 grimly. " I will say that much for him."
 
 FELICIA. 229 
 
 After a pause, during which Felicia passed her 
 handkerchief over her eyes, with the furtive ges- 
 ture of one who attempts to ignore the fact that 
 tears are ready to fall, he resumed : 
 
 "To return to Mrs. Branner. I don't want 
 you to have so much to do with her. I am sorry, 
 as she is the only woman you happen to know ; 
 but I can't let you associate with her. I ought 
 to have put a stop to it before this." 
 
 " Why ? " demanded Felicia, in a startled tono. 
 She had roused herself from her lounging atti- 
 tude, and was looking at him expectantly. 
 
 " Well, she is not a suitable friend for you. 
 There may be no harm in her. I dare say she 
 was only imprudent, but at one time a good deal 
 was said and " 
 
 " And yon did not tell me ! " exclaimed Feli- 
 cia, violently i "and you let me talk with her at 
 that theatre, hour after hour! How could you! 
 How could you ! " 
 
 He was immensely relieved. He had feared 
 that from some quixotism, some championship as 
 of injured innocence, she would espouse Mrs. 
 Branner's cause ; he was aware of her underlying 
 willfulness, and he had dreaded to enlist it against 
 him in a contest like this. When he saw how 
 greatly he had been mistaken, he could even af- 
 ford magnanimity. 
 
 " Mrs. Brannev was probably only imprudent," 
 he said. " She is stupendously vain, as you see ; 
 her husband was very jealous, and "
 
 280 FELICIA. 
 
 " I would not associate familiarly with such a 
 woman for any imaginable consideration," de- 
 clared Felicia, uncompromisingly. 
 
 " Felicia, you have a pitiless standard," he said, 
 as if in rebuke ; and he was inexpressibly glad 
 that this was the case. 
 
 " I have common sense," retorted Felicia, 
 dryly. 
 
 This episode ended her efforts to take part, 
 even as a sympathetic spectator, in her husband's 
 professional career. She would not attend re- 
 hearsals, and risk being again thrown with Mrs. 
 Branner. 
 
 " I could not snub her ; I would not hurt her ; 
 and I will not let her talk to me." 
 
 Stage life thus slipped from immediate obser- 
 vation into a retrospect, and she began presently 
 to analyze the chaotic impressions she had re- 
 ceived during her constant attendance at rehear- 
 sals and performances, and to formulate her ex- 
 perience as a whole. She evolved the theory that 
 she had unconsciously forgiven much, a certain 
 tone, a Bohemianism of feeling as well as of man- 
 ner, which would once have been unpardonable in 
 her eyes. Trifles, infinitely minute points indi- 
 cating character, unnoticed at the time, came back 
 with a new emphasis. To be sure, these people 
 were zealous ; they were hard-working ; many 
 were talented ; doubtless many were faithful in 
 the discharge of duty ; they had bitter trials and 
 disappointments even in the midst of their
 
 FELICIA. 231 
 
 triumphs ; to her mind they were much to be 
 pitied. But was she justified in subjecting her- 
 self to the influences of stage life merely from 
 idleness and ennui, without the ennobling element 
 of labor and the consecration of an inborn talent ? 
 
 There was a phrase she had picked up in her 
 association with musical people which seemed to 
 her to be capable of a wider suggestion than its 
 obvious meaning. She often heard them speak 
 of " absolute pitch." The phrase might imply an 
 immovable value other than tone. Was not an 
 exact standard of morals, of worth, of essentials, 
 even of externals, a strict code of habits and man- 
 ners, which would not fluctuate in the sweep of 
 extraneous influences, a possession intrinsically 
 precious, which it was a duty not to underesti- 
 mate ? She promised herself that if she had the 
 gift of " absolute pitch ".in this sense, she would 
 not lightly cast it aside. Better her empty hours 
 and her vague haunting disquiet ; and so back to 
 her old loneliness. 
 
 It. was more -endurable now that the season was 
 rapidly drawing to a close, and for the same rea- 
 son the cessation of intercourse with Mrs. Bran- 
 ner was managed without a seeming estrangement. 
 Plans for the vacation were in order, and ob- 
 sorbed much thought. Kennett proposed to spend 
 the summer abroad, but to his surprise Felicia ob- 
 jected. 
 
 " We have been so hurried and harried from 
 place to place," she suggested. " Why not go to
 
 232 FELICIA. 
 
 some quiet region, far from the army of summer 
 tourists, and have a complete rest? We have 
 seen people enough to last a long time." 
 
 He thought this over a moment. " Perhaps 
 that will be pleasant," he acceded, doubtfully; 
 then added, " and certainly cheap." 
 
 The place they selected was in a country neigh- 
 borhood in one of the hilly counties of Kentucky, 
 contiguous to the mountain region. The farm- 
 house had been recommended to Kennett by an 
 acquaintance, who had once passed a tedious sum- 
 mer of convalescence there. " It is a very plain 
 sort of place," he had said, " but the people are 
 good-natured and sterling, and the accommoda- 
 tions endurable. If you want very quiet summer 
 boarding, you cannot do better."
 
 XII. 
 
 So far from the life of cities, of the opera 
 troupe, its associations and traditions, was this 
 landscape of hill and valley that it might seem 
 almost the life of a foreign planet. The rickety 
 "double buggy," which had been sent to meet 
 Kennett and his wife, drew up before the fence 
 of palings which inclosed an old two-story frame 
 house ; there was a portico in front, several hick- 
 ory and sycamore trees grew in the yard, and a 
 big vegetable garden lay at one side. The cows 
 were coming home ; the mellow clanking of their 
 bells resounded on the air. Across the tasseled 
 blue grass several turkeys were making their way 
 in single file, evidently with the intention of join- 
 ing their companions already gone to roost in the 
 branches of an oak-tree ; the yellow sunset gilded 
 their feathers to a more marked uniformity with 
 those of their untamed relatives in the woods. 
 In the background were visible a rail pen, a few 
 feet high, where young turkeys were kept, and 
 a henhouse, which hens and cocks entered and 
 emerged from at intervals, apparently finding it 
 very difficult to persuade themselves that bedtime 
 had really come. The house was situated on the 
 slope of a high hill, which, in the background,
 
 234 FELICIA. 
 
 rose into imposing proportions, heavily wooded 
 save at the top, where a clearing had been made, 
 from which a crop of wheat had been taken. This 
 bare space, so incongruous in the midst of the 
 thick umbrageous forests, gave the elevation a 
 curiously bald-headed look. The windows com- 
 manded a long perspective of valley, which, sub- 
 divided by jutting spurs, seemed many valleys; 
 the purple hills grew amethystine in the distance, 
 then more and more faint of tint, until the dainty 
 landscape close to the horizon was sketched in 
 lines of sunlight. Over all was a rosy glow, for 
 the day was slowly waning. The cicadas cease- 
 lessly droned ; the odor of thyme and clover 
 blossoms was on the fresh, dry air. Kennett 
 looked, with the disparagement of the city-bred 
 man, at the arrangements of the " company 
 room." 
 
 " It is very ' plain,' I must say," he remarked. 
 
 Felicia turned her flushed cheeks and bright 
 eyes from the window, and critically surveyed the 
 faded ingrain carpet; the four-post walnut bed- 
 stead, surmounted with a red canopy and orna- 
 mented by a " log-cabin " patchwork quilt ; the 
 heavy stoneware furnishing on the wash-stand ; 
 the rush-bottomed chairs; the plaster--of-paris dog, 
 and very green parrot, and very yellow canary 
 decorating the high, narrow wooden mantelpiece ; 
 the several works of pictorial art on the walls, 
 an engraving of Stonewall Jackson, one of Samuel 
 at his devotions, a colored print representing a
 
 FELICIA. 235 
 
 young man in buff trousers and a blue coat, and 
 a young woman in a red dress and with black 
 ringlets, reading from the same big book, obeying 
 as well, perhaps, as the circumstances permitted 
 the legend " Search the Scriptures." Everything 
 seemed very clean, very bare, very primitive. 
 Then she looked at Kennett's serious face, and 
 broke into a peal of joyous laughter. 
 
 " How you are going to miss my ' properties,' " 
 she cried, "my poor, dear 'properties,' that you 
 scorned ! Yet you don't care for the artificiali- 
 ties, oh, no, indeed ; you have such simple 
 tastes. For my part, I think it is all very nice, 
 and the air is exhilaration itself." 
 
 " If you are pleased, I am delighted," he re- 
 turned, ruefully. 
 
 He left her presently to see about the baggage, 
 and she watched him as he joined their host and 
 hostess at the gate. The farmer had just driven 
 up with a light wagon, in which were the trunks, 
 and was in the act of handing out to his wife the 
 shawls, satchels, and lunch basket. Felicia said 
 to herself that she could not make a mistake in 
 this woman's face. She had a firm chin, delicate 
 lips, and the transparent complexion usual among 
 the dwellers in high regions. Her hair, brown, 
 scanty, lustreless, and sprinkled with gray, was 
 brushed back from her sunken temples, revealing 
 her features in full relief, and her expression was 
 more than serious, it was almost austere. She 
 wore a dark calico dress, which fell in scant folds
 
 236 FELICIA. 
 
 about her ; her white linen collar was held by a 
 pin containing a badly executed likeness of her 
 husband. He was grave of face, slow of move- 
 ment, and sparing of speech, with meditati ve blue 
 eyes, brown hair and beard cut in defiance of city 
 standards, and he was dressed in a much-worn 
 suit of cheap, shop-made clothes. Felicia looked 
 at them both long and attentively, and then looked 
 back into the room. She drew a deep breath. 
 
 " Yes," she said aloud, " very plain intensely 
 plain and so respectable." 
 
 They entered next day upon a life new to both, 
 entirely so to Kennett, although Felicia had 
 vague reminiscences of something similar when, 
 in her childhood, her father had had the whim 
 to take her with him through the rural regions 
 of his circuit. Kennett, the man of cities and 
 of artificialities, found a certain difficulty in ad- 
 justing himself to such unprecedented conditions. 
 He could lounge systematically enough during 
 his vacations, under ordinary circumstances ; but 
 now, without boating, driving, billiards, acquaint- 
 ances, he was at a loss. For the first few days 
 he said at least a hundred times, " Felicia, I shall 
 die of ennui in this place." It seemed to him al- 
 most perversity that she should be so genuinely 
 contented. " If we had been obliged to come 
 here because it is cheap, you would have thought 
 it a calamity," he declared, reproachfully. She 
 laughed at this, and said he was hard to please: 
 lie was always insinuating that she liked to spend
 
 FELICIA. 237 
 
 money ; now that she was helping to save it he 
 was not satisfied. After this he drifted into what 
 he called the yawning stage. It came upon him, 
 uncontrollably, ungraciously, persistently, regu- 
 larly. " It must be malaria," he would say, 
 bringing his jaws together by a mighty effort and 
 with his eyes full of tears. 
 
 " It is the relaxation from a tension," returned 
 Felicia, learnedly. " You have been strung up to 
 concert pitch for so long. It shows that you need 
 a complete rest." 
 
 " If it were any one else, I should say it shows 
 complete laziness." 
 
 The lazy phase came a little later. Then he 
 could not even summon the energy to yawn. For 
 hours he would lie motionless on the grass, or 
 swinging in the hammock which they had 
 brought, and which impressed their rural enter- 
 tainers as a most felicitous contrivance. Some- 
 times Felicia read aloud ; often she " condescended 
 to talk," as he laughingly phrased it. Apparently 
 she had dismissed her anxieties ; her joyousness 
 and spontaneity suggested the happy days of last 
 summer ; when her mood was graver, she evinced 
 a depth of thought and feeling at variance witn 
 her other self. She had often appeared to him 
 many-sided ; never so much as now. There was 
 an unexpectedness about her which lent a certain 
 piquancy to her companionship. " I never know 
 exactly what you are going to think or say on any 
 subject," he remarked one day.
 
 238 FELICIA. 
 
 " It is just the reverse with me," she replied. 
 " I know what you are going to think or say be- 
 fore you do yourself." 
 
 The time seemed to pass blithely enough for 
 her. She amused herself about the house and 
 yard like a child. Occasionally she undertook 
 light household tasks, under the direction of Mrs. 
 Wright, shelling peas, stoning cherries, cap- 
 ping strawberries, and the like. He could hear 
 rising on the soft, warm morning air her voice 
 and infectious laughter, as the two women sat to- 
 gether in the shade of the vines that covered the 
 portico. Once she made a " lady cake," all by 
 herself, except baking it, she declared, exultantly ; 
 and Mrs. Wright slyly smiled superior, and did 
 not expound the summum bonum of the cake- 
 making art. " I believe I have a talent for cook- 
 ing," said Felicia, complacently. " I should have 
 been a famous housekeeper, if I had had half a 
 chance." 
 
 To the elder woman, looking out from her 
 meagre, colorless life, the bright young creature, 
 with her quick wits and warm heart, was in some 
 sort a revelation. They drew close together in 
 these summer days. Sometimes their talk was 
 serious and retrospective. She told Felicia of the 
 two children she had lost, and showed her their 
 faded daguerreotypes and some of their little 
 clothes. " The girl would have been twenty- 
 three next fall, if she had lived. Jest your age," 
 said the mother, looking wistfully into the dewy
 
 FELICIA. 239 
 
 violet eyes, and vaguely bridging that terrible 
 gulf of empty years with an elusive airy structure 
 of what might have been. " Ah," she said, with 
 a long-drawn sigh, " God knows best. His will 
 be done." 
 
 Her sunken eyes turned to the shimmering 
 landscape close to the soft horizon ; her sinewy, 
 worn hands dropped upon the faded garments on 
 her knee. The sunshine lay on the floor; the 
 wind wafted in at the window the purple ban- 
 ners of the " maiden's bower ; " the wing of a 
 bird flashed past. " God's will be done," she 
 repeated. 
 
 Felicia, imperious, intolerant, rebellious, shrank 
 appalled from the hypothesis that every life holds 
 the elements of bitter woes, like in degree, dif- 
 fering only in kind. She resolutely reverted to 
 lighter themes ; she shut out the thought of grief. 
 She promised herself that she would have happi- 
 ness, that was what she craved. She would 
 not be balked of her lightness of heart. 
 
 Perhaps her theory of the relaxation of a severe 
 tension in Kennett's case had been correct. At 
 any rate, by degrees something of his former me- 
 thodical energy asserted itself. He assigned to 
 himself the duty of going to town for the mail ; 
 occasionally he procured horses and took his wife 
 riding ; sometimes he went on a shooting excur- 
 sion with the hobbledehoy son of the house, re- 
 turning with a few birds or a rabbit as a trophy. 
 Once he bought from a mountaineer a deer just
 
 240 FELICIA. 
 
 killed, game laws are a dead letter in that re- 
 gion, and brought it home on his horse in true 
 rural sportsman fashion, greatly enjoying Felicia's 
 delight in his supposed skill, when he drew rein 
 before the portico and called her to the window. 
 " You think this better than an encore for ' When 
 the bugle sounds ' ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, much, much better ! " cried Felicia ; and 
 she added that, in her opinion, killing a deer was 
 more appropriate to a big six-foot man than an 
 absorbing interest in costumes and wigs and fea- 
 thers, and infinitely small points about pianissimo 
 and confuoco and intonation. 
 
 June had passed. July, rich, luscious, brilliant 
 with color, redolent of sweet odors, languorous 
 with sunshine, was glowing into August. Through 
 the soft bloom on the big peaches the warm red 
 deepened day by day. The grapes were purpling. 
 The mellow, perfumed apples dropped heavily on 
 the grass, and the busy " yellow-jackets " rioted 
 among them. Where bearded ears of millet had 
 waved in the wind the shocks were piled, and al- 
 ready the encroaching crab grass was overcrowd- 
 ing the prickly stubble. The call of quail vi- 
 brated on the air. The forests were densely 
 green. The streams flowed languidly, for the 
 showers, sudden and profusely punctuated by 
 peals of thunder and flashes of lightning, were 
 short, and but little rain fell. On these perfect 
 afternoons, the very acme and culmination of 
 summer and light and vivid life, Felicia loved to
 
 FELICIA. 241 
 
 stroll up the steep slopes, not stopping till a cer- 
 tain " blue spring," near the summit, was reached. 
 A jutting spur of the range cut off all extended 
 outlook ; no house or clearing was visible ; the 
 valley was walled in on every side ; a sea of foli- 
 age below the crag sent up a monotonous mur- 
 mur. 
 
 " It is as lonely here as if we were on a desert 
 island," remarked Kennett, one day, not, how- 
 ever, in discontent; having once adjusted himself 
 to the eventless existence, he found the simple 
 routine endurable enough. He was lying at 
 length on the cliff. His appearance gave token 
 of the rural life he had been leading : he was sun- 
 burned ; his hair and mustache, under the ma- 
 nipulation of the village barber, were longer than 
 formerly, and their luxuriance gave the depth of 
 coloring his face had lacked in his close-clipped 
 trim ; he had taken on flesh, and his raiment sug- 
 gested careless wear. He was more picturesque 
 than formerly, but not point-device. 
 
 " Some of these days," he went on, with the 
 deliberate manner of one to whom time is no ob- 
 ject, " when the resources of the country are de- 
 veloped, this place will be a summer resort ; half 
 a dozen mineral springs in a stone's throw, a rail- 
 way only three miles distant, healthiest air in the 
 world, no mosquitoes, what more can the heart 
 of the summer sojourner desire ! " 
 
 " You are as eloquent as an advertisement," re- 
 sponded Felicia.
 
 242 FELICIA. 
 
 " The hotel would be on that level stretch, and 
 the bowling-alley there to the right," he contin- 
 ued, raising himself on one elbow, and looking 
 about with the serious attention sometimes charac- 
 teristic of the very idle in contemplating a far- 
 away possibility. 
 
 " There would be an ' observatory ' just here," 
 said Felicia, entering into his mood, " where the 
 band would play the stage-coach up the mountain ; 
 and people would flirt on the piazzas, and women 
 would talk gossip, and men would smoke and play 
 euchre. On the whole, I like it far better as a 
 desert island." 
 
 She fixed her eyes on the vast slant of motion- 
 less foliage across the basin of the valley. A 
 haze was thickening in the sunshine ; an ominous 
 stillness was in the air ; athwart a mass of black 
 cloud that was imperceptibly stealing up from the 
 west quivered a slow pale flash ; the roll of thun- 
 der, indistinct yet sinister, sounded beneath the 
 horizon. 
 
 Felicia spoke suddenly, with the ring of intense 
 feeling in her voice. 
 
 " I wish this were a desert island ! " she ex- 
 claimed. " I wish we could never see any more 
 people, or hotels, or Pullman cars, or theatres. I 
 like this life." 
 
 " You would soon be tired of it," he rejoined. 
 
 " You seem to like it," she said. 
 
 He had thrown himself down again at full 
 length. " Yes," he replied, after a long pause,
 
 FELICIA. 243 
 
 " I like it. It has been extremely pleasant. It 
 is very gentle and peaceful, and very aimless. I 
 am glad to be rid of the turmoil, and tension, and 
 effort." 
 
 " Why not be rid of them permanently ? " asked 
 Felicia, in sudden sharp agitation. 
 
 " It is not what is pleasant, it is what a man 
 is fit for, that he must consider." He roused 
 himself from his recumbent attitude, and leaned 
 against the bole of a huge oak that projected over 
 the rock on which they sat. " Then," he said, 
 " there 's this." 
 
 He inclined his head slightly, as if he were lis- 
 tening, and, with a half smile, clapped his hands 
 softly together. 
 
 "It is not merely the applause," he added, 
 after a moment's reflection. " I will do myself 
 the justice to say that. Half the time the public 
 does n't know why it applauds. It is the con- 
 sciousness that the applause is deserved." 
 
 Then both were silent. An acorn detached it- 
 self 'from among the leaves above them, dropped 
 with a resonant thud on the crag, and, rebounding 
 sharply, fell into the valley below. A blue jay 
 chattered antagonistically and vivaciously some- 
 where in the foliage. An imperceptible current 
 of air brought to them the fresh odors of fern and 
 mint from the banks of the spring branch near 
 by ; they could hear the water drip over the cool 
 mossy stones. From the black clouds, ever rising 
 higher above the western mountains, came again
 
 244 FELICIA. 
 
 a peal of thunder, muffled, but definite at last. 
 The wind was rising. 
 
 All at once Keunett began to sing. 
 
 The volume of sound smooth, melodious, 
 rich, resonant, permeated through and through, 
 from its gentlest tone to the full capacity of its 
 compass, with that mastering, constraining inten- 
 sity which for the lack of a better phrase is called 
 the sympathetic quality rose and fell with a 
 certain majesty of effect. Perhaps it was because 
 of the long rest, perhaps because of the strangely 
 perfect serenity of the last six weeks, perhaps 
 because she had become trained to discriminate, 
 certainly that voice had never seemed to her 
 so valuable merely as an organ. 
 
 Once she had asked him if it were not possible 
 that he and his friends overrated his gift ; if a 
 man of thirty-three, thoroughly trained, has not 
 attained, or at least approximated, his best pos- 
 sibility. Was it likely that he could after that 
 become a great singer, instead of merely an excel- 
 lent one ? 
 
 He had the anxious vanity of the musician ; 
 the question hurt him, but he replied as dispas- 
 sionately as he could. In all candor, he said, he 
 was of opinion that neither he nor his friends 
 overrated him. " No man of sense deliberately 
 determines that he will be a supremely great dra- 
 matic singer, any more than a playwright of set 
 purpose sits down to rival Shakespeare." He 
 added that he would admit that he was not so
 
 FELICIA. 245 
 
 well known or so fairly appreciated as he deserved 
 to be, but he had been constrained by the circum- 
 stances in his case. He had been compelled to 
 take whatever engagements offered ; he could not 
 choose or wait for better opportunities. He could 
 not say that he hoped ever to become one of the 
 few supremely great singers ; but there were 
 many degrees, and he fully expected to stand far 
 higher than he had yet done. 
 
 Felicia had also a theory that in vividness of 
 imagination he was not preeminent. He was al- 
 ways appropriate, controlled, but to her he seemed 
 to lack the sudden flame of inspiration. She 
 thought him too well trained ; he was limited by 
 traditions, precedents, reasons. The fine fire of 
 his capacity burned steadily, with too even a glow. 
 To-day she retracted this judgment, as, with the 
 precision of an instrument in perfect tune, with 
 the adroit management of an accomplished musi- 
 cian, with the subtle enthusiasms of a sensitive 
 soul, he sent the pathos and the passion of Lohen- 
 grin's Farewell pulsating across the uninhabited 
 sea of verdure at their feet. 
 
 "No, no," he said, as the last sound wave died 
 away, and he rose, extending his hand to assist 
 her. " I am dedicated to ' Mein lieber SchwanJ 
 whose other name might be called Melpomene. 
 That is what I was born for." 
 
 And she, she said nothing. In her soul she 
 knew he spoke the truth. What was there for 
 her but to say nothing ?
 
 246 FELICIA. 
 
 Before they reached the house, the black cloud, 
 suddenly in swift motion, had overspread the 
 whole sky. They barely escaped the storm ; the 
 first heavy drops were falling as they shut the 
 gate and ran up the pavement; in a moment 
 more the whitening sheets of rain were dashing 
 against the window panes, the lightnings were 
 playing over the landscape, and the thunder 
 pealed. 
 
 They found their host and hostess in what was 
 called the " settin'-room," a square, sparsely fur- 
 nished apartment, opposite the parlor. Mrs. 
 Wright looked up, with her slow smile, from the 
 peaches she was paring for supper. Her hus- 
 band, tilted against the wall in a split-bottomed 
 chair, took his pipe from his mouth as Kennett 
 entered. 
 
 "You was singin' up thar ter the blue spring, 
 warn't ye ? " he demanded, with a trifle of viva- 
 city. " I thought it must be you. Well, ye 're 
 a good singer, shore." 
 
 "You ought to go to meetings Sundays, and 
 lead the hymns," said Mrs. Wright. She had 
 not yet been able to fully comprehend the mental 
 and moral attitude of people who do not desire to 
 go to church. " Mr. Wright says you 're a choir 
 all by youi'self." 
 
 Felicia glanced at Kennett. Obviously he was 
 pleased. Ah, the insatiate vanity of the musi- 
 cian, flattered by such a tribute as this ! 
 
 "Bob 's been to the post office," said Mr.
 
 FELICIA. 247 
 
 Wright, suddenly. " There 's a letter fur ye on 
 the table." 
 
 Kennett took it with the alacrity with which 
 people in the country receive their mail, read and 
 re-read it, then slowly placed it in his pocket. 
 
 " It is a matter of business," he said, meeting 
 Felicia's eye. 
 
 The next morning, however, he showed it to 
 her. 
 
 " Do you know what this means ? " he de- 
 manded, with exultation. "This means grand 
 opera another season, under the most auspicious 
 circumstances." 
 
 " It is only an offer for a concert tour with the 
 Asterisk Quartette, at the fashionable watering- 
 places, as a substitute for their tenor, who is 
 obliged to resign on account of ill health," said 
 Felicia, her eyes still on the letter. 
 
 She had heard of the organization, which was 
 in many respects exceptional. A notable mana- 
 ger had induced certain superior artists to give 
 up their usual vacations for the discomforts of a 
 professional season, plausibly arguing that a rich 
 harvest might be reaped if the leisure class 
 bent especially on enjoyment and on spending 
 money be offered first-class attractions. So far 
 he had been very successful, both as to the mate- 
 rial secured and the practical result. 
 
 " This is just the opportunity I want," said 
 Kennett, walking about the room in unwonted 
 excitement. " This is the best organization in the
 
 248 FELICIA. 
 
 country. To take Stuart's place gives prestige 
 by itself. If I can hold my own, and I can, 
 this means rapid advancement." 
 
 " But you have already signed with Mr. Hal- 
 let." 
 
 " Only for the next season. After that I will 
 choose." 
 
 Felicia sank down on one of the straight- 
 backed chairs, and gazed absently at the floor, the 
 letter still in her hand. 
 
 " Well, Hugh," she said at last, looking up at 
 him, " I want you to decline this." 
 
 He stared at her. 
 
 " I am going into town in the next half hour to 
 reply by telegram, as they desired," he returned. 
 " I shall most certainly accept it." 
 
 " You show great consideration for my 
 wishes ! " she exclaimed, bitterly. 
 
 "You are unreasonable," he rejoined. 
 
 " Because I am happy here, living in this quiet, 
 simple, inexpensive way, you want to give it up." 
 
 " I have been happy, too ; but if an idle, pur- 
 poseless existence is pleasant, must a man jeopard- 
 ize his future ? " 
 
 "Oh, you promised you promised to stay 
 another month, and now you are going to drag 
 me back to that tawdry falseness ! It would be 
 different if the season had opened ; then it would 
 be necessary ; but this is so gratuitous." 
 
 " This is so beneficent," he corrected. " It is 
 an opportunity that may never occur again."
 
 FELICIA. 249 
 
 She burst into tears. He attempted coaxing, 
 but she interpreted this as a sign of relenting, 
 and grew more insistent. He tried argument, 
 and was met by the positive declaration that what 
 is wisest is not comparable to what is happiest. 
 Now that she had at last relaxed her hold on her 
 will she was as unreasonable and as persistent as 
 a spoiled child. At last he too lost his temper. 
 
 "This is intolerable," he said, angrily, rising 
 and turning to the door. 
 
 She sprang before him, and stood, one hand on 
 the bolt and the other on his arm, as if to push 
 him back, her body thrown forward in the poise 
 of suddenly arrested motion, and an intent ex- 
 pression on her beautiful face. 
 
 "Oh, Hugh," she cried, "I beg I insist that 
 we don't go yet ! Let me be happy a little 
 longer ! " 
 
 He looked at her coldly. 
 
 "You may have mistaken your vocation," he 
 said. " You have a good pose a very good 
 pose at this moment. There 's nothing like a 
 pronounced success in domestic melodrama," he 
 added, with a laugh. 
 
 His sarcasm stung her like a lash. She slowly 
 withdrew her hand from the bolt, her eyes full on 
 his ; she slowly crossed the room. 
 
 He regretted his words ; already his anger was 
 melting. 
 
 " Forgive me,'' he entreated. 
 
 She stood silent a moment, and looked at him 
 with hard eyes.
 
 250 FELICIA. 
 
 " Send your telegram," she said. 
 
 He left the house without another word. When 
 he returned from town, he found her in her trav- 
 eling attire, the rooms bare of their effects, and 
 the trunks packed. He walked about restlessly 
 for a few moments ; he looked at her in anxious 
 indecision. 
 
 "You are not angry?" he asked, in depreca- 
 tion. 
 
 " Oh, no," she replied, with a certain metallic 
 clearness in her laugh. " I am only obedient."
 
 XIII. 
 
 THE next six weeks, outwardly brilliant, were 
 a prolonged trial of skill, in which Kennett, 
 instead of merely preserving his rank as facile 
 princeps, as in Hallet's troupe, found it neces- 
 sary to hold his own among singers more nearly 
 his equals. He threw himself heart and mind 
 into the effort to do his capacity full justice, and 
 in this* protracted crisis his professional interests 
 absorbed him more than ever to the exclusion of 
 his personal interests. 
 
 Perhaps no man fully interprets that subtle 
 and obscure scripture, a woman's nature, least of 
 all the nature of a woman like Felicia, supersen- 
 sitive, proud, intolerant ; in a certain complicated 
 sense insistently conscientious ; susceptible to def- 
 inite yet delicate influences which might not af- 
 fect a differently organized individuality. Ken- 
 nett did not realize all she felt, and he dared not 
 allow himself to dwell upon the possibility that 
 she was suffering. It was a positive and practi- 
 cal necessity that he should eschew any cause of 
 agitation and disquiet; that he should live in 
 a simple, normal, prosaic emotional atmosphere. 
 There had been a reconciliation between them, 
 tears, regrets, self-reproaches, and each had
 
 252 FELICIA. 
 
 promised to remember no more the other's hasty 
 words. Kennett had made this promise in all 
 good faith, and had dismissed the episode but for 
 the recurrent suspicion, which he sought to ig- 
 nore, that it still remained with her. 
 
 She had no deep absorption to lighten gradu- 
 ally the intensity of her contending feelings. 
 Her pride, her wounded self-esteem, her love, made 
 the thought intolerable to her, yet she brooded 
 for hours on that crucial interview. That he 
 should have looked at her with those cruel eyes, 
 that he should have spoken those sneering words! 
 She would remind herself that she had promised 
 to forget it, but she would recur to it with* a sort 
 of willfulness despite the pain; a certain obdu- 
 racy was aroused in her ; it was strange to her 
 that her heart should be at once so sore and so 
 hard. 
 
 Is there not a trifle of ambiguity in our exposi- 
 tion of moral values? Those sweeping phrases, 
 generosity, selfishness, for example, in certain 
 jugglery of forces, do they not become sometimes 
 interchangeable ? The soul that can invest itself 
 in what one may call a state of slippered ease ; 
 that can acquiesce, concede, constrain its own 
 approval, shut out the turmoil of endeavor, the 
 exactions of a definite ideal, the embittering pro- 
 cesses of contention with the antagonistic forces of 
 other ideals, is in a certain sense a fortunate soul. 
 And generous ? We usually say so. But this 
 suggestion is submitted : to forego is an easy 
 process.
 
 FELICIA. 258 
 
 Felicia's standards, artificial, perhaps, per- 
 haps, unworthy, were imperative. It would 
 have been comfortable to compromise ; with her, 
 compromise was impossible. What she deemed 
 due to herself was always a potent force with her; 
 she was still more exacting when her feelings were 
 deeply involved. The life, too, brought its pecu- 
 liar elements of trial. There was much in this 
 abnormal, showy, brilliant midsummer " season " 
 against which, loyal to her estimate of the becom- 
 ing, she revolted. Last winter's seclusion was 
 now impossible. Then the contact with the pub- 
 lic had been slight enough, confined principally 
 to the hotel dining-rooms and railway trains ; now, 
 in these sojourns at the crowded resorts, life was 
 all out-of-doors, on piazzas, at the spring, on 
 the beach. Felicia, accustomed from her earliest 
 childhood to be regarded by strangers with re- 
 spectful admiration, was stung by the eyes which 
 rested upon her with curiosity, admixed perhaps 
 with a little wonder that, being what she evidently 
 was, she should be placed as she was. Infinitely 
 more bitter it was to her whenever it chanced that 
 Keunett's striking appearance attracted the atten- 
 tion of certain notable men, as they lounged about, 
 watching the kaleidoscopic pageantry on the es- 
 planade. She would see their glances follow him, 
 and would divine, as they turned to some well- 
 informed habitue, that they asked who he was. 
 They were for the most part portly, red-faced 
 fathers of families, judges, like her own father,
 
 254 FELICIA. 
 
 bank presidents, railroad magnates. These, last 
 winter, had been merely a portion of the great, 
 unindividualized public ; now they were separate 
 personalities, easily differentiated. Sometimes it 
 almost seemed to her that she had been endowed 
 with a sixth sense denied to happier people, a 
 sense of intuitive mental vision, by which she 
 knew, as well as divined, the process through 
 which the curiosity of these gentlemen was trans- 
 muted, as their inquiry was answered, into a sur- 
 prised comprehension, too slighting in its quality 
 to be even contempt. It was intolerable that this 
 valuable element of society should esteem her hus- 
 band " a singing fellow," as if he were of another 
 order of beings. It does not come easily to such 
 a woman as Felicia to say, concerning the man 
 she loves, "nevertheless," to make allowances, to 
 overlook, to palliate. She would fain have ex- 
 ulted in him. She realized poignantly how proud 
 she could be of him, had he attained a measure of 
 success in what her father and brother called " the 
 sane walks of life " equal to that which he had 
 achieved in this vocation of his. She said to her- 
 self, fierily, piteously, helplessly, that it was his 
 right, his due, that he should have a place among 
 estimable and successful men of position, and 
 ah, how many of these there were in the world ! 
 a place as an equal, even a superior ; for who 
 can say how far force may carry when exerted 
 in the right direction ! She craved this for 
 him ; and yet she too held almost religiously her
 
 FELICIA, 255 
 
 father's and her brother's views as to the sane 
 walks of life. Her heart ached for him that he 
 should be deprived of the solid values of exist- 
 ence; she was almost enraged against him that 
 he could not understand his deprivation. 
 
 So grievous was this chagrin that it even 
 dwarfed what she felt when she met the amused 
 contempt in the faces of the women who knew her 
 own story ; for not unf requently they encountered 
 women who knew her story. It seemed a very 
 perverse fate that this should happen now, yet the 
 previous summer, when she would have been glad 
 to meet any of her old schoolmates or acquaint- 
 ances, she saw only strangers. 
 
 In the first episode of this kind a deeper senti- 
 ment was involved than amused contempt. The 
 incident occurred at one of the notable seaside 
 hotels. Kennett and Felicia had just finished 
 their late breakfast, and were walking down the 
 long piazza. A trio of ladies, presumably last 
 night's arrivals, was advancing toward them. 
 Suddenly Felicia quickened her steps, with an 
 exclamation ; her lips were parted in such a smile 
 of pleasure as they had not known for many a 
 day. The trio faltered ; indeed, the eldest, a 
 large, well-preserved, well-dressed woman of fifty, 
 almost came to a standstill ; then she swept on- 
 ward, detaching an eyeglass from its catch and 
 adjusting it composedly. 
 
 " How do you do ? " she said, bowing and 
 smiling graciously. " Glad to see you here." 
 And she would fain have proceeded.
 
 256 FELICIA. 
 
 It was an awkward moment, doubly awk- 
 ward because of spectators ; a number of persons, 
 sitting and standing about, were looking on with 
 the intense interest of the desperately idle. Feli- 
 cia had been so evidently pleased, her acceleration 
 of pace and her exclamation were so noticeable, 
 that to pass now without pausing would be very 
 marked. With an aplomb hardly to be expected 
 in so young a woman, she halted unflinchingly in 
 front of the elder lady, and extended her hand. 
 Mrs. Morris's condescension, it must be admitted, 
 was distanced in the spirited half minute's dash 
 that ensued. 
 
 " So pleased to see you," said Felicia, with com- 
 posed ceremoniousness of manner. " Let me in- 
 troduce my husband. You will have the pleasure 
 of hearing him sing. Shall be glad to send you 
 tickets. Your daughters are quite well ? " She 
 smiled and beamed on the hesitating young la- 
 dies. Her tone was that of a woman advanced 
 beyond them in some way, much older and long 
 ago married. 
 
 She held the fort ; she was the centre and 
 mainspring of the situation. She had never 
 looked more beautiful. She was in brilliant 
 health ; the long hours she had spent in the open 
 air, this summer, had suffused her delicate skin 
 with a rich glow which was very becoming to her. 
 About her slim, elegant figure floated the folds of 
 one of her effective costumes, at once simple and 
 elaborate, gray of tint with elusive suggestions of
 
 FELICIA. 257 
 
 faint green. Her pose, as Kennett might have 
 said, was good, very good ; her head was erect, 
 but not held haughtily ; her attitude had a cer- 
 tain alertness, as of a bird about to fly ; her eyes 
 were very bright, and dark, and smiling; her 
 teeth gleamed through her parted red lips; she 
 was airily, self-possessed. 
 
 " I hope you will be here for some time," she 
 said, with suavity. " 6rOOC?-morning. Au revoir." 
 
 She swept away, with Kennett beside her. The 
 Morris girls glanced over their shoulders at her 
 tall, impressive, well-dressed blond husband. 
 They thought Felicia's fate romantic, and said 
 to each other that she was more beautiful than 
 ever. 
 
 " Why did you snub the old lady ? " demanded 
 Kennett, selecting chairs where they could look 
 out upon the drive as well as at the palpitating 
 blue sea. 
 
 " Did n't you understand ? She attempted to 
 snub me. She does n't consider me as important 
 as she once did." 
 
 "Oh," he returned, enlightened, " was that it! " 
 
 "And Mabel Morris and I were like sisters 
 once ! " cried Felicia, with a sharp pain in her 
 voice. " I used to go to their home as familiarly 
 as they themselves. And papa could never pet 
 them enough, because they were fond of me. And 
 when he was in New York, it was one continual 
 round of opera, and theatre, and driving, and 
 presents, and lovely times for us three. And
 
 258 FELICIA. 
 
 Mrs. Morris was fond of me, too ; and now she 
 does not want Mabel to speak to me. I am an 
 awful example and a dangerous acquaintance." 
 
 He thought she was on the verge of tears, but 
 she pulled herself together by a violent effort, and 
 gave a bitter little laugh instead. He saw how 
 keenly she was hurt. 
 
 " I would n't care for her," he said, soothingly. 
 
 " I don't care for her ; I care for myself," said 
 Felicia, dryly. 
 
 Mrs. Morris's fears as to a renewal of the old 
 intimacy were groundless. Somehow, whenever 
 she or her daughters chanced to be thrown into 
 Felicia's vicinity, something particularly interest- 
 ing was on hand. " That great three-masted ves- 
 sel an English ship with a cargo of jute? Jute ! 
 How interesting ! " Or, " Only see, Hugh, how 
 those sail-boats are tossing on this choppy sea; 
 they seem to be courtesying to each other." Or 
 she had just been told that the strange commotion 
 in the water was occasioned by the passing of por- 
 poises, and she was absorbed in watching for a 
 glimpse above the waves of the ungainly crea- 
 tures, only aroused to a consciousness of the exist- 
 ence of her friends when Kennett gravely bowed 
 as he raised his hat. Then she would look up 
 suddenly and also bow, and smile the society 
 smile, which means many things or nothing at all. 
 At first Mrs. Morris was relieved to discover that 
 that bland " Au revoir " had been merely a figure 
 of speech, but later she was angered.
 
 FELICIA. 259 
 
 " Felicia Hamilton poses as if she were still Fe- 
 licia Hamilton ! " the astute lady declared, in irri- 
 tation. 
 
 " She seems very happy," said the elder daugh- 
 ter pensively, looking at the couple as they strolled 
 down the beach. He was opening her parasol ; 
 he had her light wrap over his arm ; he bent his 
 head as he talked to her. 
 
 "And he is very handsome," added Mabel. 
 
 Mrs. Morris glanced sharply from one to the 
 other. 
 
 Later in the day, Mabel remarked, apropos of 
 nothing, that the basso, Mr. Dallon, was also very 
 handsome ; and it was within an hour that Mrs. 
 Morris was smitten with a dreadful pain in her 
 eyes, which she said must be due to the intense 
 glare of the sun on the water. She felt sure that 
 she had better take the first train for New York 
 and consult an oculist, and thence proceed to some 
 place where shade was possible, the Adiron- 
 dacks, perhaps. Trunks were hastily packed, and 
 before sunset the party was off, a handkerchief 
 binding the eyes of the suffering lady. 
 
 Felicia did not again make the mistake of mani- 
 festing pleasure upon meeting old acquaintances. 
 A bow, a smile, sometimes a few words when the 
 advances came from the other side, constituted 
 her social experience during the summer. Her 
 sensitive pride, thoroughly on the alert, defended 
 her against a second peril of discomfiture. 
 
 One of these chance meetings was an encounter
 
 260 FELICIA. 
 
 with the Graftons. It occurred in the dining- 
 room of the hotel at which the Hamilton party 
 had sojourned while at the seaside the previous 
 summer. She and Kennett were entering; the 
 Graftons were going out. Little Mrs. Grafton 
 peered at Felicia with startled, beadlike eyes, her 
 pointed mouse-like head inquiringly askew, her 
 diminutive nostrils quivering. Then she glanced 
 affrightedly up and down the long floor, as if in 
 search of a hole to run into ; then she said, 
 " How do you do ? " in a very high, thin voice, 
 much as she might have said, " Squeak, squeak," 
 and walked on with the air of scuttling. Nellie 
 stared with her hard, round black eyes, Felicia 
 thought Madame Sevier was not doing much for 
 Nellie. Alfred bowed frigidly. "How he must 
 gloat over my ill-regulated mind ! " meditated Fe- 
 licia, bitterly. 
 
 Meeting him here brought back last summer 
 very vividly to her recollection. By an odd coin- 
 cidence, the room assigned to her was the one she 
 had then occupied. She softened a little the first 
 evening of her arrival, her eyes on the chair by 
 the window where she used to sit and look out, as 
 well as she could for her tears, at the shining 
 track of molten silver light, as the moon sailed 
 over the sea. " How unhappy I was ! " she 
 thought, commiserating that other self, and losing 
 in the recollection of the old grief some of the 
 poignancy of the new. She had half resolved to 
 tell Kennett, when he should come back from the
 
 FELICIA. 261 
 
 concert, the history of that little chair, how she 
 used to sit there, night after night, with her head 
 on the window-sill, and weep her heart away be- 
 cause he had not answered her note. Perhaps he 
 would be interested ; perhaps the constraint of 
 feeling that had infused itself into their relations 
 would disappear, and life would become more en- 
 durable. 
 
 He returned in a bad humor, however ; some- 
 thing had gone wrong with the accompaniment, 
 and he commented bitterly, a rare thing with 
 him, for control of his temper was a part of his 
 professional system. " When a damned idiot," 
 he said fiercely between his set teeth, " who pre- 
 tends to know nothing but music, can't see a red- 
 hntando when it is marked plainer than print, 
 what is he fit for ! " 
 
 Once Felicia might have suggested " treason, 
 stratagems, and spoils ; " but pleasantries did not 
 come to her readily nowadays, and she only looked 
 at him in silence as he kicked the historic chair, 
 that happened to stand in his way, and instituted 
 a tense and vivacious search for his slippers, and 
 demanded of her if she thought it was beneficial 
 to a neuralgic headache to sit before an open win- 
 dow. Obviously it was no occasion for sentiment, 
 and before he recovered his equanimity the im- 
 pulse had passed. 
 
 He was not altogether satisfied with his work 
 during the summer engagement. To be sure, he 
 had been praised, he had made reputation ; he
 
 262 FELICIA. 
 
 was persuaded that lie would receive such offers 
 as he desired for another season. But he realized 
 that not onee had he done himself full justice ; 
 not once had he sung as he could sing, as he 
 sang that afternoon to the empty woods, and the 
 coming storm, and the tender heart of his wife. 
 It was a very subtle difference, but very strong, 
 the difference between excellence and exalta- 
 tion. From time to time, as the weeks wore on, 
 he canvassed within himself the policy of saying 
 something of this to Felicia. Such a course a 
 direct appeal to her generosity might have 
 been wise policy. But a man of pride is likely to 
 find a certain difficulty in submitting to his wife, 
 who somewhat ungraciously protests against his 
 vocation, a plea for her smiles as a factor of his 
 success in that vocation. Caution, too, with- 
 held him. There was no predicting how she 
 might, with her strong feeling upon the subject, 
 receive the suggestion. It might be applying fire 
 to the fuse. With his professional existence de- 
 pendent in a great measure on serenity, it would 
 not do for him to risk explosions. 
 
 Little had been said between them, of late, as 
 to his professional work, but that little had 
 served to deepen his realization of her objections. 
 To him her attitude was even more illogical than 
 heretofore. There was some talk, about the be- 
 ginning of the regular season in September, of 
 substituting, during the coming winter, for Prince 
 Koderic, which, although still drawing well, was
 
 FELICIA. 233 
 
 now a trifle familiar to a change-loving public, a 
 new work, one of those that belong to what 
 might be called the romantic-grotesque school, 
 which, through music more or less meritorious 
 and costumes always effective, sometimes gorgeous, 
 has reopened fairyland to people who have for- 
 gotten the fairyland of youth. 
 
 When Felicia heard this suggestion she openly 
 rebelled, little though it availed her, as she knew. 
 Since she had come to understand something of 
 her husband's professional life, and had realized 
 the gap between his estimate of his capacity and 
 his opportunity, between his exacting and elevated 
 musical and dramatic sense and the slightness of 
 the compositions to which he must devote himself, 
 she had experienced an extreme irritation for his 
 sake. Intensely as she deprecated his career, 
 she resented as intensely that he did not at least 
 have the place in it which he coveted. His accept- 
 ance of whatever task was set before him, as a 
 step upward, as means to an end ; his respect for 
 his own work, in however distasteful a guise ; his 
 careful and conscientious rendition of roles un- 
 worthy of him, almost dismayed her ; she thought 
 his patience tragical. She had constrained her- 
 self to say as little of this as she might, and he 
 did not divine that even so questionable a sympa- 
 thy as this sort of partisanship was involved in 
 her disapprobation of his calling. 
 
 In regard to the proposed addition to his reper- 
 toire, however, she suddenly abandoned her bitter
 
 264 FELICIA. 
 
 neutrality. She was deeply agitated when she 
 entreated him to refuse such a role. To his 
 amazement, the objection she urged was that the 
 opera was amusing. He could not appreciate her 
 distinctions when she seriously declared that it 
 was more endurable to sing in such an opera as 
 Prince Roderic, because it was a romantic opera ; 
 that the character of Prince Roderic was digni- 
 fied, and even noble. She insisted that there is 
 an immense difference between wit and fun, 
 that one is a brilliant, and the other mere paste ; 
 that it is admirable to be witty, and odious to be 
 funny ; that even in genteel comedy, while the 
 author and the work may have the quality of wit, 
 the delineator upon the stage does not share its 
 dignity ; he is only funny, is only comical. 
 
 All the world knows more or less of that 
 strange contradiction which almost suggests the 
 idea of a dual set of mental qualifications apper- 
 taining to the histrionic artist, by which the medi- 
 ocre mind suddenly becomes endowed with a for- 
 eign intellectuality, the trifler conceives heroism, 
 the jester tragedy, the small soul invests itself in 
 majesty. Thus Kennett, the gravest and most 
 sedate of men, held as an instrument the strings 
 of mirth, and played airily upon them at his will, 
 with the delicate touch of the born comedian, 
 with irresistible drollery, with incomparable hu- 
 mor. Felicia had often meditated on this phase 
 of his talent, so strangely at variance with his na- 
 ture, and with that massive, heroic histrionism
 
 FELICIA. 265 
 
 which he arrogated to himself. Had he truly the 
 two developments of the dramatic gift? she won- 
 dered ; or did he mistake himself, would his 
 rendition of those exalted roles, to which he was 
 so sure he could give new and worthy interpreta- 
 tions, prove only clever unconscious imitations ? 
 
 With her contradictory ambitions for him, 
 all at war with her sense of fitness, she, too, 
 would fain have lifted her eyes to the great 
 heights of the profession. And so the lesser gift 
 was unendurable to her, that a turn of his 
 head, a lift of his eyebrows, should send ripples 
 of laughter over the house, rising into peals when 
 he chose. When she further reflected on the 
 possible make-up in the roles of the unknown opera 
 which was presently to be put in rehearsal, it 
 was rumored already a marvel of melody and gro- 
 tesqueness, she looked at him piteously through 
 her infrequent tears, declaring that it would be 
 like death to her if she should see him make him- 
 self ridiculous. Surely, she insisted, he must feel 
 sufficiently strong in his position to stipulate that 
 he should have only serious and noble characters 
 like Prince Roderic. 
 
 He could think of no rational reply, except that 
 he could not in prudence attempt to dictate to the 
 management as to the cast. With his lifelong 
 habit of looking at such matters from the purely 
 professional standpoint, he could only consider 
 these views of hers absurd. 
 
 " It does not seem to me a very fine thing to
 
 266 FELICIA. 
 
 sing the roles of Assad or Lohengrin, as you hope 
 some time to do. But this ! This is advancing 
 backward. Yet you think you are ambitious ! " 
 
 He winced ; his color rose ; he bent upou her 
 a sparkling eye. 
 
 " Do you mean that as a taunt," he demanded, 
 sharply, " because I get on slowly ? " 
 
 She made no reply; she had turned aside her 
 face ; he could see the tears slipping through her 
 fingers. 
 
 Mindful as he always was of the dictates of 
 policy, these might not have restrained him now, 
 so intensely was he irritated. But there was 
 something in her attitude so piteous, expressing a 
 grief which was almost desolation, that he experi- 
 enced a revulsion of feeling ; his anger vanished. 
 He took her cold hand in his ; he kissed her 
 averted cheek ; he attempted to argue the matter. 
 She only turned her head and looked at him. He 
 saw how far too deep for coaxing or reasons was 
 her chagrin, and in sheer futility his words died 
 on his lips. 
 
 The recollection of this scene did not offer 
 any inducement to attempt to establish more sym- 
 pathetic relations as to his professional work. 
 Further considerations added their weight, not 
 perhaps distinctly acknowledged to himself, but 
 vaguely appreciated. He was beginning to feel 
 that for other reasons the divergence between 
 them was widening. In a matter of importance 
 to them both, the matter of economy, it seemed
 
 FELICIA. 267 
 
 impossible that they should act in accord. He 
 had, with reluctance and misgivings, broached 
 the subject of his financial condition. At first he 
 was greatly relieved that she received the com- 
 munication with composure and philosophy, and 
 promised readily that she would spend as little 
 money as possible. It was only by degrees that 
 he learned that economy, like other sciences, is 
 not to be picked up in a day. In order to cut off 
 superfluities it is necessary to recognize them as 
 superfluities. It seemed to him unaccountable 
 that her ideas should be so vague. Expenses 
 which, in his opinion, the merest common sense 
 should have suggested the propriety of curtailing 
 were allowed to continue, while others, which were 
 as plainly necessary, she proposed eliminating. 
 Her lavishness was not so much an expression of 
 self-indulgence as an expression of taste, and this 
 fact added another complication to the puzzle of 
 her attitude. He could not understand why she 
 so often unreasonably and spasmodically indulged 
 her whims, when she was evidently capable of re- 
 linquishing them lightly and without regret. The 
 explanation was the simplest and most prosaic 
 possible. To arrange expenditure so judiciously 
 as to reduce self-denial to the minimum is only to 
 be learned through practice. Felicia had had no 
 such practice. To her economy meant depriva- 
 tion. She could endure, when she happened to 
 remember his injunctions, to give up what she 
 liked ; she did not know how to arrange to attain 
 what she most liked.
 
 268 FELICIA. 
 
 She had no realization that she was inconsistent 
 and thoughtless ; on the contrary, it was evident 
 that she was in good faith disposed to take to her- 
 self credit for moderation. She showed him one 
 day, for example, a wrap which she had just 
 bought, and seemed to expect him to be gratified 
 that it cost fifteen dollars less than another which 
 she had preferred. " The one at sixty-five had 
 much more cfric," she remarked, contemplatively, 
 as she held it up, " but this will have to do." 
 
 "That little affair cost fifty dollars!" he ex- 
 claimed, aghast. " Surely, Felicia, you don't 
 need so expensive a wrap. Why can't you wear 
 the one you bought last spring until it is cold 
 enough for your cloak ? " 
 
 " I wore that all the spring, and the trimming 
 on this is much prettier ; indeed, it is quite a new 
 idea. I had to get something to wear with my 
 dark silk dresses," she had replied, looking at 
 him with clear, convincing eyes. " A severely 
 plain walking costume isn't always suitable, you 
 know. And fifty dollars is very reasonable for 
 such a dolman as this." 
 
 He could not argue tho matter. He too was 
 subject to heavy demands from the tyranny of 
 fashion. It was part of his stock in trade to be 
 always exceptionally well dressed and prosperous 
 looking, off as well as on the stage. He could 
 not estimate her needs, but he experienced much 
 irritation when, after a long silence, in which she 
 was evidently thinking deeply, she rose, opened
 
 FELICIA. 269 
 
 the wardrobe, and placed beside the new wrap the 
 one he had mentioned. 
 
 "After all," she said, meditatively, "there is 
 very little difference in style. I wish I had not 
 bought this. It did not occur to me at the time, 
 but I could have managed without it." 
 
 " You should have considered that earlier, now 
 that you understand our circumstances," he said. 
 
 He thought her carelessness culpable ; she 
 thought his look and tone of cold reproof unwar- 
 rantably severe. 
 
 Such episodes did not tend to reestablish har- 
 mony between them. She felt that he did not 
 appreciate the efforts she made to meet his views, 
 and it might have been well if her chagrin be- 
 cause of this had expressed itself in tears and re- 
 proaches. He could not gauge her intention ; 
 her constraint of manner impressed him as insen- 
 sibility ; it seemed to him that her acquiescence 
 had been merely a matter of form, and that her 
 course argued an extreme indifference to his 
 wishes. This was the more bitter as he had be- 
 come far more harassed than she supposed, 
 what involved man ever tells his wife all his af- 
 fairs ! Kennett had said he was afraid of getting 
 into debt, and he was in debt; not very deeply as 
 yet, it is true, but these things are relative. His 
 resources were slight, and under these circum- 
 stances a small debt is a large one* The money 
 he had made in that unexpected prosperous sum- 
 mer " season " was already gone, how, he could
 
 270 FELICIA. 
 
 hardly say. He felt that it might be wise policy 
 to go over the whole ground with Felicia, and tell 
 her frankly how he stood ; but, with the illogical 
 perversity of the man who is the prey of financial 
 anxiety, he upbraided her severely in his thoughts, 
 because of her indifference to those troubles of his 
 which she did not know, as well as her supposed 
 insensibility to those of which he had told her. 
 He shrank from further talk on the subject, and 
 put it off from day to day. It appeared to him 
 now that he had made a serious mistake in not 
 securing her hearty cooperation in this matter of 
 economy in the early time of their marriage, 
 when, as he believed, his influence was much 
 stronger than now. 
 
 It seemed to him that even mentally she had 
 become strangely at variance with her former self. 
 He remembered the interest she had felt in the 
 drama of life as it was enacted before her ; its 
 slightest episode gave her food for thought, for 
 comparisons, conjectures, conclusions. No hu- 
 man beings were too insignificant to attract from 
 her a certain contemplative attention, as being re- 
 sults of that great experiment, Circumstance, and 
 as carrying within them, however superior, or 
 commonplace, or sordid their environment, the 
 burning fire of regret or aspiration, the ache 
 of disappointment, the bloom of joy or of hope. 
 Now she saw no dramas ; she interpreted no more 
 lives. She had lost her unconsciously semi-philo- 
 sophic attitude. If, by chance, seeking to rouse
 
 FELICIA. 271 
 
 her interest, he directed her attention to some in- 
 cident denoting character, which she would in that 
 former time have found suggestive, she gave it a 
 perfunctory notice, soon displaced by her own ab- 
 sorbing personal musings. She even seemed an- 
 tagonistic to those human sympathies. Once she 
 said to him with bitterness that it would have 
 been appropriate, considering how very tiresome 
 it is to see so many strangers, that a plague of 
 Faces should have been sent upon the Egyptians 
 in addition to the plagues of locusts and frogs. 
 He did not fully apprehend the significance of 
 this development of her character. Strange that 
 he, so thoroughly accustomed to the dramatic 
 world, should not have realized so obvious a mat- 
 ter as the difference between the standpoint, the 
 outlook, of spectator and of actor. 
 
 In his augmented anxieties he was denied the 
 relief of irritability, which, bitter though it may 
 be, is in some sort a safety valve. It had long 
 been his creed that serenity is of the first impor- 
 tance to a singer. The habit of self-control stood 
 him in good stead in one sense : he did not have 
 to contend against the exhausting effect upon the 
 nerves of outbreaks of temper. But the strenuous 
 restraint involved also a sense of effort, and he 
 began to suffer from a depression which became 
 more and more paralyzing. Under its influence 
 he saw only the dark side of his affairs, and he 
 vaguely presaged calamity : that his work would 
 become mechanical ; that his voice would lose its
 
 272 FELICIA. 
 
 magnetism, his acting its spontaneity ; that his 
 popularity would wane or his health would fail. 
 
 He made the best fight he could against his 
 increasing morbidness, but in those days heavy 
 cares beset him, and he grew very taciturn and 
 thoughtful. 
 
 That year the autumn came on early, with long 
 cold rains and leaden clouds which the sun did 
 not penetrate for weeks. The continuous drip- 
 ping, dripping, of the rain seemed to extinguish 
 by degrees all the fire in Felicia's nature. As a 
 last resort for occupation she had addicted herself 
 to fancy-work, and the endless plying of a crochet 
 or an embroidery needle dulled without soothing 
 her. The work was as spiritless as that of a tread- 
 mill, for she had little interest in the results, 
 which were in truth of doubtful value, this was 
 another art in which she was not proficient. 
 When she had completed a miraculous tidy or 
 " banner," she would listlessly push it away, reas- 
 sort hr materials, and languidly begin another. 
 Often as not she left these trophies of her skill at 
 the hotel, upon her departure, and the admiring 
 chambermaid regarded them as a godsend. 
 
 They continued habitues of the first-class hotels. 
 Kennett, however, still casting about for means 
 of cutting down expenses, had fallen into the 
 habit of engaging rooms in the upper stories of 
 those caravansaries which made desirability of 
 location a matter of price. While comfortable, 
 these rooms were not so luxurious as those on the
 
 FELICIA. 273 
 
 lower floors, and somehow their elevation added 
 to their dismaluess. When the dense clouds 
 rested on the cornices of the roofs opposite, and 
 the street lamps were merely a yellow blur in the 
 thick-falling; rain, and the wind swept around the 
 corner with a dreary moan, the sense of isolation 
 was complete. Then Felicia, sitting alone, would 
 let her hands and party-colored worsteds fall 
 upon her lap and wonder piteously at the strange 
 sarcasm of her fate. She would say to herself 
 bitterly that she had no mother, no sister; her 
 father had cast her off ; her brother hated no, 
 scorned her ; she had not a friend to whom she 
 could go for comfort or companionship ; her place 
 in the world was, in her estimation, uncouthly in- 
 congruous. Once she had hoped that God would 
 send her children. Now she told herself that it 
 would be .well if this should never fall to her lot. 
 Every blessing proved for her a bane. He had 
 given her beauty, wealth, health, friends, love, 
 to what end ? To have tears as comrades and 
 bitter thoughts as her part in life ; to be as dis- 
 tinctly alone in this busy, throbbing, eager world 
 as if she were indeed cast away on a desert island, 
 in the midst of a lonely sea. So her griefs as- 
 serted themselves and took possession of her. 
 The gas flared, and the rain trickled down the 
 window-panes, and the wind moaned about the 
 room perched up so close against the black cloud ; 
 while Kennett, half a dozen squares away, with 
 a light heart or a heavy, it mattered not which,
 
 274 FELICIA. 
 
 splendid and glittering- in crimson and stage jew- 
 els, posed before the footlights, and sang of love 
 or revenge, and stabbed himself or his rival, as 
 circumstances required, with propriety, precision, 
 and a stage dagger. 
 
 About this time she became conscious of a bit- 
 ter experience, she became conscious that she 
 had relinquished a standpoint which once she 
 had esteemed of worth. The worldly-mindedness 
 which her father had deplored in her nature had 
 so far expressed itself in a definite appreciation 
 of the insignia of worldly values, environment, 
 high-breeding, luxury, culture. Now it seemed 
 to her that she went further than this ; she felt 
 that money was in itself a fine thing ; that it was 
 a first necessity to be rich and highly placed. 
 Once she would have said it was well to be at 
 ease in regard to money ; that appropriate sur- 
 roundings, beautiful dress, and associates of ele- 
 vated social station were the charming incidents 
 of a fortunate position in life, but to care inordi- 
 nately for these things was vulgar ; they should 
 be a matter of course if one had them, a matter 
 of slight consequence if one had them not ; they 
 were accessories. She had arrogated to herself 
 some credit that she could thus regard the matter. 
 Once she had been capable of the resolve to look 
 upon the men and women about her as human 
 beings, apart from their station ; now she disdain- 
 fully refused to make such effort ; she was con- 
 scious only of their solecisms, their professional
 
 FELICIA. 275 
 
 and other slang, their Bohemianism, even their 
 shabbiness of dress in the dishevelment of rail- 
 way trains and hasty appearances at hotel tables. 
 Contradictorily, this angered her against herself, 
 and she would upbraid herself as a snob. She 
 would ask herself how it was that she, who was 
 of this stratum of society, should ally herself in 
 thought and feeling with the class who would 
 scornfully reject her could they suspect such pre- 
 sumption ; that she, who had no position, should 
 so vividly appreciate the position of fortunate 
 people ; that she, who was a wanderer and home- 
 less, should look with wistful eyes at the showy, 
 spacious city mansions, the big comfortable su- 
 burban villas, of magnates like her father and 
 brother, her social superiors, and picture to her- 
 self the life encompassed by those imposing and 
 solid walls. 
 
 It was a many-faceted emotional experience 
 she was undergoing with such stolidity of de- 
 meanor as she could command. Kenuett did not 
 apprehend it in its entirety ; he might only real- 
 ize the phase immediately presented. His deduc- 
 tions, sufficiently bitter and in one sense correct, 
 did not put him fully in possession of her trou- 
 blous heart and mind. Yet, so far as he could 
 judge, her whole state of feeling was revealed to 
 him one night when, in their progress through 
 the South, they entered the city to which the little 
 town of Blankburg, her former home, was contig- 
 uous and tributary. There had been a railway
 
 276 FELICIA. 
 
 accident, a freight train in front of them had 
 been wrecked, and they did not arrive till af- 
 ter midnight. As they drove from the depot to 
 the hotel, her consciousness was impressed with 
 the strong sentiment of place, so indefinable, yet 
 so tyrannous. How was it that even the obscu- 
 rity of night, which might seem the full expres- 
 sion of nullity, was so distinctly imbued with the 
 flavor of locality! The taste of the soft, bland 
 air as she inhaled it, the drawling intonation of 
 voices on the street, even the sights and sounds 
 common to all railroad termini, were as if inalien- 
 ably characteristic of this place only among so 
 many similar places, and suggested vividly to her, 
 with inexpressible melancholy and remoteness, an- 
 other life lout of which she seemed to have died. 
 
 It chanced that they were detained in the press 
 of vehicles in front of a dwelling which was 
 lighted from garret to cellar, evidently the scene 
 of festivity. During the stoppage the window of 
 their carriage gave a full view of the occupants 
 of another carriage close by. So close were they 
 that every feature of two young girls within it 
 was distinctly visible in the yellow light from the 
 street lamp. They were dressed in fleecy fabrics, 
 with much airy effect of laces and suggestive 
 bloom of flowers. They had gentle, candid eyes 
 and fair hair ; their voices had a soft, suave qual- 
 ity and a distinct drawl, as they spoke to the 
 sleek, dapper young fellows with downy mus- 
 taches, and very point-device as to dress, who
 
 FELICIA. 277 
 
 were lingering with adieux and last words at the 
 carriage door. They all laughed appreciatively 
 at mutual witticisms, and were evidently enjoying 
 with all the capacity of their natures every mo- 
 ment of the occasion. Other ladies and gentle- 
 men in festal attire were descending the steps ; 
 adieux, and laughter, and the confusion of coach- 
 men's voices, and conflicting orders, were on the 
 air; evidently the moment of dispersion had 
 arrived, although the music of a band was still 
 audible through the open windows. 
 
 Felicia felt acutely that she was looking on 
 with some of the spirit animating the loafers 
 about the sidewalk, standing agape as the fine 
 folks filed down the steps, a sense of utter 
 exclusion, of admiration, of distance; and were 
 these also admixed with envy and bitterness ? 
 
 The jam was over ; the carriages were moving 
 slowly apart ; the eyes of the young girls met hers 
 with a long, friendly look. She could see that 
 they were about her own age, and how old she 
 felt ! Somehow, that moment of fellowship with 
 them was sweet to her. She glanced back over 
 her shoulder at them, a half smile on her lips. 
 
 " How happy they are ! " she said. 
 
 " And how frivolous ! " added Kennett, as the 
 buoyant laughter of the callow beaux split the air. 
 
 The carriage rolled on into the darkness. The 
 
 O 
 
 sound of music and the murmur of voices died 
 away. 
 
 " After all," said Kennett, sharply, " the flesh- 
 pots of Egypt are precious to you yet I "
 
 278 FELICIA. 
 
 She too spoke sharply. " Especially as the 
 supply of manna is rather meagre in my in- 
 stance," she said. 
 
 Tears had rushed to her eyes, but he did not 
 see them. He looked gloomily out of the window 
 at the distant gas jets jeweling the darkness, 
 stretching in two long lines across the bridge, 
 and disappearing on ths opposite shore. He 
 could credit her only with the most obvious and 
 primary sentiment implied by her words and man- 
 ner, that she realized acutely all she had re- 
 nounced ; especially, it seemed to him, its more 
 trivial and least worthy values. He did not re- 
 member that to her these trivial values had ex- 
 traneous worth as exponents of a status. He had 
 conceived the idea of exile, in a sense. He could 
 give the character of expatriated prince a profes- 
 sional " reading ; " but the real thing is a devel- 
 opment only to be fairly apprehended by actual 
 trial. It is a unique experience, not to be com- 
 passed at second hand. Kennett was breathing 
 his native air; he could not fully interpret ban- 
 ishment. 
 
 The troupe had gone South from the Eastern 
 cities by way of Washington, and as the route 
 took them from New Orleans northward they ex- 
 perienced rapid climatic changes. It had been 
 something of a trial to Felicia, the previous sea- 
 son, to spend two weeks in Chilounatti. The es* 
 trangement from her brother and his children had 
 then been a great grief to her, bitterly as she had
 
 FELICIA. 279 
 
 resented his opposition to her marriage. Now it 
 was far worse. The realization of their close prox- 
 imity came upon her sore heart with a new, heavy 
 weight. She would stand at her window, when 
 Kennett had gone to the theatre, looking from 
 her great height, and attempt to single out one 
 roof in the sunshine in the sea of roofs, or one 
 yellow spark in the darkness among the great 
 constellation of yellow gleams. She often had a 
 tyrannous impulse to walk in that direction, with 
 a shrinking hope that she might, unseen, see her 
 brother, or his wife, or the children ; then she 
 would recoil from the half-formed intention, in 
 terror lest she should be recognized and ignored. 
 She pictured to herself their routine, dull, per- 
 haps, but constantly widening since the days when 
 she made a part of it ; simple and seemly, with 
 its recognized duties, and appropriate pleasures, 
 and the passing zest of its incidents. 
 
 Her experience of life was not such as to sug- 
 gest the sardonic consolation that matters were 
 no w.orse, and that her lot had even certain pro- 
 saic alleviations. In the long segregation, during 
 those years at Sevier Institute, from the atmos- 
 phere of domestic existence, the married state 
 had been presented but slightly to her contempla- 
 tion. She had speculated vaguely upon that for- 
 eign land seen through the haze of preliminary 
 romance, and even her observation of domestic 
 life in John Hamilton's household had failed to 
 dispel certain rose-tinted illusions. It was barely
 
 280 FELICIA. 
 
 possible, however, that Sophie was conscious that 
 the matrimonial yoke could gain a galling quality 
 in the good-natured tyranny of a headstrong hus- 
 band. In other happy women, a certain deftness 
 in conciliating might have suggested the idea that 
 this suave influence is of value in a life in which 
 masculine temper, not being repressed in defer- 
 ence to a stringent professional system, may be- 
 come a distinctly assertive element. It did not 
 occur to Felicia to congratulate herself that her 
 husband regarded her au grand serieux, not 
 merely as a dear soul, and in some sort humor- 
 ously ; or that he controlled his temper ; or that 
 his qualities of mind and heart were not, as in 
 cousin Robert's case, only adjuncts, in fastidious 
 estimation, to personal peculiarities and eccen- 
 tricities. Unluckily, she too took herself au 
 grand serieux ; and for the rest, she had not 
 thought to compare her husband with other men. 
 Perhaps it would have been better if her attitude 
 had not been so lofty. Such a comparison is a 
 prosaic process, but it has uses. She realized no 
 palliations ; to her the conditions were intolerable. 
 She was very unhappy. 
 
 Her case suggests a puzzle. Have we one set 
 of theories in. principle, and another set for prac- 
 tice ? Is it our expressed creed that the inmost 
 self, which is made of emotions, principles, senti- 
 ments, that complex essence which we may call 
 Soul, should in all right thinking and in all right 
 action rise superior to Circumstance ; and, in pro- 
 saic truth, is Circumstance lord of Soul ?
 
 XIV. 
 
 THE monotony of a long November rain, drip- 
 ping, dripping down the window, was broken at 
 last, and one night the darkness was pervaded by 
 indefinable murmurs, a vague sense of continuous 
 movement, a soft, semi-metallic clicking as of crys- 
 tal faintly responsive to crystal ; and when morn- 
 ing broke the ground was deeply covered with the 
 first snow of the season. 
 
 Its advent was most welcome, to judge from the 
 number of sleighs seen early on the streets. To- 
 ward noon these were even more frequent, and 
 sleighing parties were rapidly organized, on the 
 principle, perhaps, of making hay while the sun 
 shines. For so deep a " dry snow " was rare, and 
 in this capricious climate the length of its con- 
 tinuance on the ground was a matter of the wild- 
 est conjecture. 
 
 On Keunett's return from rehearsal he brought 
 suggestions of festivity. A certain Mr. Foxley, 
 well known in social circles, ambitious to be con- 
 sidered particularly aufait in matters pertaining 
 to music and the drama, and well up in worldly 
 affairs in general, had invited the more notable 
 members of the troupe to join him in a sleigh-ride 
 and a subsequent refection, pledging himself to
 
 282 FELICIA. 
 
 get them back to the theatre in time for the even- 
 ing performance. Kennett had accepted the in- 
 vitation, and hurried off before lunch. 
 
 Felicia consoled herself bitterly with the reflec- 
 tion that a few lonely hours more or less were of 
 little consequence, in a life made up of gradations 
 of unhappiness. 
 
 After her solitary meal, as she stood at her win- 
 dow looking down at the street, she realized the 
 tempting quality of the brilliant clear sunshine 
 and the cheerful aspect of the thoroughfare. She 
 glanced in indecision at the worsteds on the table, 
 debating in her mind the value of fancy-work as 
 a resource, this afternoon, in comparison with a 
 stroll. Finally she put on her hat and wraps, and 
 set out. Depressed as she was, the exhilaration 
 of the air and the vivacity of the scene, the passing 
 groups and swift vehicles, had their tonic effect. 
 Her mood lightened ; she looked about with inter- 
 est ; she walked more briskly. The air was balmy, 
 almost warm, although a thaw had not yet set in. 
 The sky was intensely blue. Long shafts of yel- 
 low sunshine struck adown the street. The light 
 clouds about the west were slowly growing crim- 
 son, and were flecked here and there with brilliant 
 golden flakes. Much of this afternoon radiance, 
 falling in a broad sheet upon the plate-glass win- 
 dows, was reflected back in dazzling sheen ; and as 
 Felicia passed the establishment of a well-known 
 dealer in- pictures, she was only indefinitely con- 
 scious of something vaguely familiar in the look
 
 FELICIA. 283 
 
 and attitude of a man who lounged against the 
 nickel-plated railing and gazed at the engravings 
 displayed within. 
 
 He turned suddenly, and as his eyes fell upon 
 her he addressed her abruptly, making a some- 
 what negligent pretense of lifting his hat. 
 
 "You going to give me the cut, too?" he asked. 
 
 It was her natural kindly impulse to remove 
 any discomfort he might experience because she 
 had not recognized him. It was her grace of 
 breeding that unluckily caused her apology to do 
 this so efficiently and so cordially that Abbott, en- 
 tirely placated, was moved to stroll along the 
 sidewalk with her. 
 
 She found a certain hardship in thus accepting 
 his escort. She had always been fastidious as to 
 her choice of associates. Under no circumstances 
 would she have patiently endured his companion- 
 ship, to-day least of all ; yet she was sensible 
 of an excessive humiliation that she should expe- 
 rience so intense a panic lest her brother or his 
 wife, or any of her few acquaintances in Chilou- 
 natti, should chance to meet her walking with her 
 husband's most intimate friend. He was shabby, 
 shabbier than usual. His shoes were un- 
 blacked, his hat unbrushed. He had been drink- 
 ing ; his eyes were bloodshot. He was evidently 
 in the state in which a man is both captious and 
 plaintive. 
 
 "I'll tell you what it is," he declared, thrusting 
 his hands into his overcoat pockets, " I '11 tell
 
 284 FELICIA. 
 
 you what it is : if a man has got no money, he 'd 
 better die. Prussic at-id don't cost miK'.h, and the 
 outlay for a coffin is a permanent investment. He 
 don't have to be paying that every week, like the 
 butcher's bill. There is no place in this world 
 for a poor man. It 's a pretty big world, but 
 there 's no room in it for the fellow with the 
 empty purse. Look at that chap Foxley, for in- 
 stance. What in the name of sense would he be 
 without his money ? And he knows it. He values 
 himself for nothing but his money. He don't 
 respect anything but money. What does he care 
 for Kennett or Preston, do you suppose ? But 
 Preston is one by himself, and what he has he can 
 afford to spend on himself, and wear good clothes, 
 and cut a dash. And Kennett has married rich, 
 and always looks about right. And Hallet is the 
 manager, and makes money. That 's all Foxley 
 cares for. He pretends to know something about 
 music. He don't. He 's got no use for anything 
 but money. And if a man 's got no money he 
 may go hang, for all Mr. Henry Foxley cares." 
 
 Felicia understood his pitiful grievance. He 
 had been neglected in the invitation to the after- 
 noon festivity. It was hard for her to bear a 
 part in a conversation like this. She attempted 
 to evolve some commonplace to the effect that we 
 have good authority for the belief that the love of 
 money is the root of all enl. But he interrupted 
 her, evidently valuing more the opportunity to air 
 his woes than her consolation.
 
 * FELICIA. 285 
 
 " I guess you don't know much about it," he 
 said, sourly. " You 've had nothing but the soft 
 side of life so far, the roses, and the lilies, and 
 all that sort of thing. It 's easy enough to be 
 contented and smiling when you 've got every- 
 thing heart can wish. But how do you suppose a 
 man feels when he knows he 's looked down on 
 and sat on by his inferiors ? Oh, I tell you a 
 man had better be dead than carry a flat pocket- 
 book ! " 
 
 He laughed, and scowled, and took out his 
 purse, which was indeed rather flat, tossing it up 
 and down and catching it with deftness as he 
 walked. 
 
 " Bless you," he added, " sometimes I am actu- 
 ally minus a nickel for street-car fare." 
 
 She wondered if he were ever minus a nickel 
 for a "schooner" of beer; she thought not, judg- 
 ing from the puffy appearance of his eyelids and 
 cheeks, indicative of devotion to that sort of liquid 
 consolation for the woes of life. She scorned her- 
 self that her heart should flutter as it did a mo- 
 ment later. She felt her breath come fast ; her 
 limbs trembled ; her voice was unsteady. 
 
 " This is the library," she said, suddenly. " I 
 am going in here." She turned sharply, and be- 
 gan to ascend the stairs. She had not intended 
 to make a visit to the library an incident of the 
 afternoon's excursion ; but advancing toward her 
 was one of the solid and stolid old gentlemen she 
 had met at her brother's house. She felt almost
 
 286 FELICIA. 
 
 sure that he would not remember her. She felt 
 perfectly sure that she could not risk the possi- 
 bility. To her chagrin, Abbott accompanied her 
 into the building', and as they ascended the stairs 
 together he remarked that he did n't know that 
 strangers could go to this swell library. Appar- 
 ently he considered the privilege very valuable, 
 and seemed to felicitate himself 011 the accidental 
 opportunity. 
 
 Felicia reflected in increased annoyance that it 
 was more probable she would be recognized by 
 the librarian or some of his assistants, as she had 
 once been an habitue of the institution, than by 
 the absent-minded old gentleman she had so anx- 
 iously avoided. Had it not come to a strange 
 pass, she asked herself in extreme impatience, 
 that she should skulk about ; that she should seek 
 to hide from the people she had once known, as 
 if she had indeed something of which to be 
 ashamed, as if she merited the contempt that 
 she feared ? 
 
 She did not go into the reading-room, realizing 
 that it would probably be difficult to induce Ab- 
 bott to comply with the regulations requiring si- 
 lence. She threw herself into a seat in an alcove, 
 and Abbott took the place beside her. 
 
 " Won't you catch cold here ? " he asked. 
 " Shall I close the window ? " 
 
 The room had been overheated, and several of 
 the windows had been put up, among them the 
 one by which they sat. She replied that she pre-
 
 FELICIA. 287 
 
 ferred the air, reflecting that perhaps, on account 
 of his voice, he would be alarmed by the possi- 
 bility of taking cold himself, and leave her. He 
 seemed, however, to have no such fear, as he 
 lounged in his place and resumed his talk. It 
 was much in the same vein as before, and she 
 settled herself to endure it with what fortitude 
 she might. Her absent eyes rested now on the 
 silent, motionless figures, seeu through the vistas 
 of open doors, in the reading-room ; now on the 
 softly moving officials coming and going ; now on 
 the pictures and groups of statuary near at hand ; 
 now on the wall of the building across the street. 
 In this building there was a window on a level 
 with the one by which she was sitting, and its sash 
 also was thrown up. Felicia listened mechani- 
 cally when a few keys were struck on a piano, 
 very audible across the street and through the 
 open windows. There ensued some rapid and 
 showy phrasing, a few resolving chords, the rest- 
 ful, determining effect of a tonic chord, and then 
 a man's voice arose, a rich, sonorous, impres- 
 sive voice, under masterly control. In another 
 moment a mezzo-soprano, which she also recog- 
 nized, full, sweet, and brilliant, took up the com- 
 plement of the melody, and a duet that was new 
 to her pulsated on the air. 
 
 Abbott stopped abruptly in what he was say- 
 ing, and looked at Felicia in surprise. 
 
 " How did Kenuett happen to give up the 
 sleigh-ride ? " he asked.
 
 288 FELICIA. 
 
 In the sharp confusion which suddenly seized 
 upon her she had but one distinct idea, that 
 she should preserve her self -command. She sum- 
 moned all her faculties ; she controlled her voice ; 
 she met his inquiring look with a casual, unflinch- 
 ing glance. 
 
 " He said something about going," she replied, 
 " but I suppose he changed his mind. I have n't 
 seen him since luncheon." 
 
 Abbott accepted the answer. She had played 
 her part so well that he merely turned his eyes 
 speculatively upon the window opposite, and re- 
 marked reflectively that he supposed old -Verney 
 who was the musical director had decided 
 to substitute that duet, after all, and they had to 
 go to work to get it up at the last minute. 
 
 " I suppose so," she said. 
 
 " Just like him," rejoined Abbott, sourly ; 
 " changing his mind, and making singers take 
 the risk of a new number without a rehearsal 
 with the orchestra." 
 
 In a certain way Felicia was scrupulous. Un- 
 der ordinary circumstances she would have taken 
 herself to task. She would have asked herself if 
 she, who esteemed herself highly, had by implica- 
 tion told a falsehood to this man whom she es- 
 teemed so slightly. In her moral problems the 
 difference in valuation would have been an ele- 
 ment of consideration. Certainly she had created 
 a false impression. Now she was only glad that 
 the false impression was so complete.
 
 FELICIA. 289 
 
 It was well for her that Abbott, absorbed in his 
 grievance, took no thought of her manner. He 
 did not notice that she offered no observation, and 
 responded rarely and at haphazard to his remarks. 
 She rose to go presently, saying, with a shiver, 
 that she was cold, after all, and that the open 
 windows were making the room very chilly. 
 
 " Don't you want to get a book or something ? " 
 asked Abbott, in surprise. 
 
 No, she said ; she did not care for anything to 
 read. She only came up here sometimes to rest 
 when she was out walking. 
 
 " Want to hear Kennett practicing his pretty 
 little songs with Mrs. Branner, hey ? " 
 
 He broke into a disagreeable laugh, wrinkling 
 the corners of his eyes satirically as he bent them 
 upon her. Surely she was becoming well versed 
 in the intricacies of a world of thought and feel- 
 ing heretofore far enough from her ken. Once it 
 would have seemed strange to contemplate the 
 possibility of meeting and baffling such an adver- 
 sary' as this on his own ground. 
 
 " Mrs. Branner is very handsome," she said, 
 easily. " Are those pleasant rooms she has ? I 
 have never been to see her here." 
 
 He had noticed at the time the cessation of her 
 intercourse with Mrs. Branner, and had explained 
 it to his own satisfaction by the theory that Ken- 
 nett's wife was too " stuck up " to associate even 
 with the " bon ton " of the troupe. Such as him- 
 self and his wife, he would say, with his bitter
 
 290 FELICIA. 
 
 parade of humility, did n't expect any of her so- 
 ciety, but Mrs. Branner ought to be " tony " 
 enough for her. Men of his peculiar tempera- 
 ment, however, have no past and no future ; his 
 life had no perspectives, and the whole matter 
 had slipped from his recollection along with many 
 episodes, great and small. Thus it was that Feli- 
 cia's management of a commonplace again effected 
 the work of a prevarication. He only remem- 
 bered that there had been an acquaintance, forgot 
 that it had abruptly ceased, inferred that visits 
 were often exchanged in other places besides 
 " here," and relinquished as " no go " his vague 
 idea of exciting a jealous distrust on Mrs. Bran- 
 ner's account. 
 
 " Well, moderately nice rooms," he observed, 
 diverted to another train of thought. " They 
 would n't seem anything to you, you know, stop- 
 ping at all the fine hotels as you do, but they are 
 pretty well for Mrs. Branner ; and, my Lord ! 
 they 'd be gorgeous to my wife and me." 
 
 In his curious aptness in being disagreeable, 
 which almost amounted to a genius, was a certain 
 capacity to make the possession of advantages 
 and superior opportunities a lash for the lucky, 
 a sort of lash of two thongs ; for he could lay on 
 alternately his own deprivations and his friends' 
 good fortune with such discrimination and acri- 
 mony that Kennett was often lost in doubt as to 
 whether these friends would be more comfortable 
 if less well off themselves, or if Abbott were more
 
 FELICIA. 291 
 
 generously endowed with whatever he might es- 
 teem desirable. 
 
 He had drifted again into the wide current of 
 worldly differences, a felicitous subject enough, 
 requiring little in the way of comment or reply. 
 Thus Felicia was enabled to give almost her un- 
 divided mind to the consideration of the strange 
 thing which had happened. In the very com- 
 mencement of this episode of her life she had the 
 strong support of a quality which, in her nature, 
 took upon itself much of the high function of 
 principle. To her intense pride of character she 
 owed it that she was able to see and reason with 
 a certain degree of fairness and composure. 
 When she had collected her faculties sufficiently 
 for consecutive thinking, she asked herself if it 
 were possible that a man who possessed qualities 
 which could secure and hold her heart was capable 
 of trifling with her, deceiving her even in so slight 
 a matter as this question of an afternoon engage- 
 ment. Could her husband palm off an excuse 
 upon her in order to conceal the fact that he de- 
 sired to spend two or three leisure hours this af- 
 ternoon in the society of another woman ? Had 
 she mistaken him like that ? Did he care for her 
 so little as that ? She declared she owed it first 
 to herself, then to him, to admit such a possibility 
 only on the most irrefragable testimony ; and the 
 proof in this case was very flimsy. He had prob- 
 ably heard, after he left the hotel, that a new duet 
 was to be substituted in the opera for a familiar
 
 292 FELICIA. 
 
 one, or introduced, and felt compelled to relin- 
 quish the sleigh-ride in order to practice it. No- 
 thing, she argued, could be more probable than 
 this. 
 
 She had lost much, she said to herself, in 
 worldly position, in opportunity, in peace of soul, 
 but she was sure and she dwelt on the stipula- 
 tion with a sort of eager insistence of her hus- 
 band's good faith in every emergency, great and 
 small ; and she was sure of herself, she could 
 not harbor jealousy and suspicion on inadequate 
 grounds. And a moment later she was torn with 
 humiliation, with unspeakable bitterness, that she 
 should thus seek to reassure herself. 
 
 The attention she accorded Abbott became 
 more and more perfunctory, but she could not 
 get rid of him until she reached the ladies' en- 
 trance of the hotel. He seemed to wish to be 
 asked in, and was disposed to linger at the door 
 and make conversation about small matters. She 
 found it necessary to infuse into her formal 
 " Good-afternoon " something of the spirit of a 
 dismissal, which he accepted rather sulkily, and 
 with another negligent pretense of lifting his hat 
 he slowly dawdled down the sidewalk. 
 
 She found her room suffused with the red glow 
 of the sunset, and along the golden shaft which 
 slanted through the half-open blind the yellow 
 motes were drifting and dancing. The sound of 
 a canary bird's shrilling in the next room rose 
 and fell unintermittingly, and the jingle of sleigh-
 
 FELICIA. 293 
 
 bells came up from the street. Still in her hat 
 and wraps, she sank upon a chair, and attempted 
 to quiet the tumult at her heart, a tumult 
 which was a question, a protest, and an intoler- 
 able pain. She could only go over the ground 
 again by exactly the processes she had followed 
 before. She could only say it was impossible 
 that her husband could deceive her in any matter, 
 great or small, that no doubt he would of his own 
 accord explain, when he should return, the circum- 
 stances that had caused the change in his plans. 
 
 He did nothing of the sort. The sunlight 
 faded. Twilight came on, and filled the still 
 room with vague violet shadows. Presently the 
 electric light outside cast a lividly white simili- 
 tude of the window on the dark wall. A star 
 looked in. 
 
 Kennett came at last; not hurriedly, he 
 never hurried, but absorbed and inclined to 
 silence. And yet, more absorbed, more silent 
 than usual ? she demanded of herselt, holding 
 desperately to the theory she deemed endurable, 
 and resolved to make every phase of circumstance 
 conform to it. He was naturally serious and com- 
 posed of manner; of late his gravity had in- 
 creased. As to his making no mention of his 
 afternoon engagement, she reminded herself, 
 fighting her' growing dismay, that little was ever 
 said, nowadays, touching his professional life, 
 as little as in the early time of their marriage, 
 when she had persistently kept from herself all
 
 294 FELICIA. 
 
 knowledge of its every detail. It was natural 
 that he should not speak of the duet, of the sud- 
 den necessity to practice it, of the possibility of 
 its pleasing at the evening performance when 
 had he spoken of duets, or rehearsals, or perfor- 
 mances ? that he should talk instead, in their 
 usual desultory dinner-time tete-d tete, on any cas- 
 ual subject which might arise, the great cattle 
 convention, for instance, the value of some of the 
 badges worn by the delegates, the large number 
 of people coming in on every train, the gigan- 
 tic growth of the cattle interest, the immense 
 fortunes sometimes achieved. This subject ex- 
 hausted, they drifted into a slight discussion of 
 some changes that had been made in the lighting 
 of the dining-room since they were here last, and 
 compared the house with others at which they had 
 sojourned. They even spoke of the weather, and 
 he remarked that the thaw had not yet set in. 
 Their talk was very languid, and was broken by 
 long silences. 
 
 After their meal Kennett left her at the eleva- 
 tor, saying that he had more than usual on hand, 
 and was pressed for time. 
 
 And so back into her own room, to review word 
 by word all that had been said, to speculate on 
 what had not been said and why he was silent, to 
 reiterate her assurances, to alternately rebel and 
 wince because she found those assurances of less 
 and less avail, thus she passed the next three 
 hours. Sometimes she felt that it was an inex-
 
 FELICIA. 295 
 
 pressible cruelty that she could not have had fur- 
 ther speech with him, and saved herself this ordeal 
 of pain ; she might at least have asked him about 
 the sleigh-ride, and have judged if he had inten- 
 tionally misled her. Then she pulled herself up 
 sharply. Ask her husband in effect if he had 
 told her a lie ? Ah, life was hard at best, but 
 what an intolerable burden it would be when that 
 should become a possibility I 
 
 Again she strung her will to its utmost tension. 
 She forced herself to believe that she was glad 
 she had not mentioned the matter. She might 
 have lost her self-control. She might have made 
 a scene, with tears and reproaches, and have 
 earned with her own self-contempt his bitter con- 
 tempt. She could never forgive herself if she had 
 asked him a question which would imply even to 
 herself a moment's doubt of him. 
 
 Yet ten minutes after his return from the 
 theatre she asked this question, carefully, judi- 
 cially, coolly. With a sort of impersonal amaze- 
 ment, she heard herself speak the words she had 
 resolved not to speak. Her will seemed as totally 
 out of her own control as if it appertained to an- 
 other entity. 
 
 " You did n't tell me about the sleigh-ride, 
 Hugh," she said. 
 
 " I did not go with them," he replied. 
 
 It seemed to her that he spoke simply, natu- 
 rally, without hesitation or reserve. But he 
 could act. She knew how well he could act.
 
 296 FELICIA. 
 
 " Old Verney flew into a rage this morning," 
 continued Kennett, " because the trio in the 
 finale did not go to suit him, and declared he in- 
 tended to substitute a duo by Neukomm ; it is 
 rather rare and new here. Nobody believed him, 
 but just as I was about to start with Foxley's 
 crowd a messenger came, on a dead run, with the 
 score, and I had to go to Mrs. Branner and get 
 it up." 
 
 How simple, how reasonable, how perfectly 
 credible ! Her heart was growing light again. 
 
 " Was n't it dangerous to attempt it without a 
 rehearsal with the orchestra ? " she asked. 
 
 "" Well, yes, rather risky. It is a difficult, 
 crabbed piece of instrumentation. The flutes 
 came very neai* getting into the woods several 
 times. The whole thing would have been a fiasco 
 with any soprano I know except Mrs. Branner. 
 She fairly controlled those fools in the orchestra 
 with her eye and her voice. Old Verney himself 
 was scared." 
 
 There was a pause. Kennett had risen, and 
 was standing looking down into the fire. He had 
 a sort of retrospective contemplation on his face. 
 
 " Intelligence is a wonderful force," he said 
 suddenly, with something like enthusiasm, "and 
 what a voice she has ! A lovely voice, a very 
 rare voice." 
 
 He seldom criticised any of his associates; it 
 was still more seldom, actuated perhaps by pro- 
 fessional jealousy, perhaps by the high standard
 
 FELICIA. 297 
 
 of excellence of the artist, that he accorded 
 praise. 
 
 Felicia said nothing. As he glanced down at 
 her, he was struck by something in her face. Not 
 an expression so much as an absence of expres- 
 sion, a certain blankness ; from intense feeling, 
 or lack of feeling ? from repression, or emotion, 
 or indifference, or objection ? He did not under- 
 stand it. 
 
 " I beg pardon for talking shop," he said, in 
 deference to its possible meaning. " I know you 
 don't like shop." 
 
 What was this new torture which beset her, 
 this piercing, sudden pang that had resolved itself 
 into a heavy pain, and would not relax its hold? 
 
 It seemed to her now that her terror of this 
 afternoon, that he had willfully deceived her, was 
 a small grief in comparison with what she felt 
 when she remembered how his face had lighted as 
 he spoke of that woman and praised her intelli- 
 gence and her voice. 
 
 This 1 was jealousy. On its indefinite, malevo- 
 lent power she had speculated vaguely and piti- 
 fully as on some far-away calamity, in the nature 
 of things infinitely removed from her lot, as 
 a pestilence, a fatal tidal-wave, an earthquake in 
 a foreign land, wreaking woe. Vaguely and piti- 
 fully, but an infusion of contempt had been ad- 
 mixed in her contemplation of that convulsion of 
 the human soul. And now it was upon her with 
 its terrors, its sense of irremediability, of inevi-
 
 298 FELICIA. 
 
 lability, its intolerable pain, its humiliation, its 
 despair. 
 
 Being what she was, she could not offer herself 
 explanations, reasons, questions, now. The fact, 
 the one insuperable, undeniable fact, remained, 
 how his face had lighted when he spoke of that 
 woman and of her voice, a fact seemingly vast 
 enough, predominant enough, to fill a universe ; 
 to exclude all other thought, all other care, all 
 other considerations. Yet, vast as it was, there 
 came to be presently room enough in her con- 
 sciousness, being what she was, for an added real- 
 ization to slip in, the realization that they were 
 all three of the operatic world, a shabby world 
 from the standpoint of her previous existence ; 
 excluded, set apart from ordinary rules and tra- 
 ditions. It was perhaps meet, she said bitterly to 
 herself, that in this alien world his wife should 
 see his face light up at the name of this woman, 
 
 of such a woman ! 
 
 This was the position in which she was placed, 
 
 she who had once been Felicia Hamilton, a 
 cherished daughter, a loved sister, an admired 
 heiress ; so fortunately endowed as to be out of 
 the reach of detraction or envy, out of the possi- 
 bility of slight or supersedure. This was what it 
 had all come to, this absurd calamity, this most 
 contemptible tragedy. 
 
 In the anguish of her wounded love and her 
 writhing pride, in this first bitter experience of 
 the torture of jealousy, she could still see the mat- 
 ter in its worldly aspect.
 
 XV. 
 
 IN the allotment of complex and delicate 
 forces which constitute an intellectual entity, 
 are the functions of certain faculties capable 
 of only a fixed amount of work, or perhaps of 
 work only in certain directions, precluding ac- 
 tivity in other than accustomed channels? For 
 instance, when an appeal was made to Kennett's 
 carefully cultivated artistic sensibilities, they re- 
 sponded readily enough. Given a dramatic sit- 
 uation, elements of rage, despair, love, revenge, 
 remorse, his consciousness was instantly imbued 
 with an adequate realization of those emotions ; 
 alert to assume them as a habit ; adroit to fix 
 upon them the medium of word, look, and action 
 appropriate for vivid portrayal. In this sense of 
 a keen artistic susceptibility he did not lack im- 
 agination. From another point of view he did. 
 In the simple and prosaic machinery of his life 
 off the stage he was not quick to interpret com- 
 plications of feelings; he was clumsy in the an- 
 alysis of shades of manner. His experience had 
 been of simple natures, of soul developments 
 that lay close to the surface, easily accessible. 
 
 In these days he misinterpreted Felicia in con- 
 tradictory ways : sometimes he thought her cold ;
 
 300 FELICIA. 
 
 sometimes he thought her sullen ; sometimes he 
 was vaguely impressed with the idea that she was 
 deeply and secretly unhappy, a theory he re- 
 jected when her composed eyes met his, and her 
 mechanically cheerful voice fell on the air. If it 
 had been on the stage, he might have recognized 
 it as bad acting; as it was, he did not recognize 
 it as feigning at all. 
 
 Thus it was that the next morning, as he was 
 about to start for rehearsal, he hesitated at the 
 door, and turned back into the room in uncer- 
 tainty. 
 
 " You don't have fresh air enough, Felicia," he 
 said, abruptly. " I know you dislike dictation, 
 but I think I ought to insist that you should be 
 more in the open air. Keeping so closely in these 
 hot rooms is enough to kill you. You look any- 
 thing but well to-day." 
 
 " I have a headache," she said. 
 
 Her heart was thumping heavily; she was fight- 
 ing with the emotion that strove to express itself 
 in her voice, and so her voice seemed measured 
 and cold. 
 
 " You would n't like to walk with me around 
 to the theatre ? " he asked, doubtfully, repulsed 
 by her tone. " You need n't go in, you know, 
 unless you choose." 
 
 " If you can wait a few moments," she replied, 
 unexpectedly. 
 
 He came back into the room, threw himself 
 into an armchair, still wearing his hat and over- 
 coat, and resumed the morning paper.
 
 FELICIA. 301 
 
 She said to herself in scorn that it had come to 
 a strange pass that a wife should be shaken, af- 
 fected, agitated almost beyond control, if her hus- 
 band condescends to notice that she is pale and 
 asks her to walk with him ; for as she adjusted 
 her wraps her fingers were trembling with haste 
 and eagerness. 
 
 An almost perfect physical organization, with 
 its strong and subtle elasticity, its alert suscepti- 
 bility to external conditions, has also intense en- 
 dowments of hope and courage. It was strange 
 to her that, under the influence of the sunshine, 
 the air, and the motion, her heavy heart should 
 grow lighter. She felt a sense of reassurance in 
 the few words Kennett spoke ; his very silence 
 was all at once restful, so unstudied and natural 
 did it seem. Her thoughts were slipping the 
 leash of the subject which had held them in thrall. 
 She was half unconsciously noticing the circum- 
 stances about her, the passing people, the vocif- 
 erous English sparrows, the crisp sound of the 
 crunching snow under foot, the filmy lines of cir- 
 rus clouds drawing an almost imperceptible veil 
 over the sky. 
 
 After she was seated in the semi-obscurity of 
 the proscenium box, her thoughts went back to 
 the efforts she had made six months before to 
 share her husband's professional life. How hard 
 she had tried ! How completely she had failed ! 
 Was it her fault ? In this unexpected lightening 
 of her mood, she could review the stretch of time
 
 302 FELICIA. 
 
 since she first sat looking on at a rehearsal with 
 the determination to endure, to withstand, to con- 
 cede. Was she right then ? Was it a mistake 
 to give up that resolve through fear of some ill to 
 her precious ideals ? Was not her happiness 
 and his of more value than her standards ? 
 And if she could have done this, life would have 
 been, perhaps, an easier thing; she would have 
 been a happier woman. She could have taken 
 her environment less tragically. She would 
 have kept her hope, her spirit, her influence. In 
 that case she might have met whatever charm 
 was arrayed against her with conscious effort ; 
 with an intention to regain, to retain ; with the 
 potent countercharm of her own undismayed in- 
 dividuality. She looked across the stage at Mrs. 
 Branner. She asked herself, Was a wife propos- 
 ing the possible feasibility of entering the lists 
 against another woman for the prize of her hus- 
 band's heart, of summoning the fascination of 
 the coquette against another coquette ? Under 
 any circumstances, could she have so developed 
 that that would be possible? Would it be well 
 for her if she could? She said to herself, No. 
 Love is a blessing or a curse, as fate wills ; not a 
 bauble to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. 
 Never could she have come to such a pass as to 
 truckle, to scheme, to bribe, to cajole. 
 
 Those members of the troupe whom she knew 
 best came into the box, in the course of the re- 
 Jiearsal. Felicia noticed a certain change in their
 
 FELICIA. 303 
 
 manner since the early days of her marriage, when 
 she first visited the theatre. Then there had been 
 a marked deference, even an evident awe, too sin- 
 cere to be concealed. But she had become a fa- 
 miliar presence, and then had withdrawn herself. 
 Perhaps something of resentment was expressed 
 in the sort of cavalier assertion she detected in 
 them. Perhaps in her earlier acquaintance she 
 had been too gentle, too conciliatory. She knew 
 much of human nature through intuition, but she 
 had not yet learned that the grace of concession 
 is subject to misinterpretation. She had felt that 
 she condescended in meeting them as on equal 
 ground ; they may have received her complaisance 
 as admission of equality. Possibly it elicited in 
 them, not appreciation, but self-aggrandizement; 
 perhaps it had not lifted them, but had placed 
 her on a lower plane in their estimation. Apres 
 vous is endurable only among social equals. 
 
 It may have been this feeling of resentment 
 that influenced Mrs. Branner's manner when she 
 too eiitered the box, with greetings and welcome. 
 She in especial had been taken up on trial, as it 
 were, in an effort to find her endurable, and 
 dropped, not an experience to be received pa- 
 tiently by a woman of pronounced vanity. The 
 spark in her eyes, the ring in her voice, were not, 
 however, so definite as to be distinctly discernible 
 to normal sensibilities, but the delicate antenna 
 of Felicia's instincts, intensely on the alert, appre- 
 hended an antagonistic sentiment.
 
 304 FELICIA. 
 
 More vivacious than usual was Mrs. Branner ; 
 she had a fine color, and after the first few sen- 
 tences of salutation she talked with fluency and 
 eagerness, with frequent lifting of her eyebrows 
 and gestures of her ungloved hands, large, soft, 
 white, well-shaped, and delicately tended hands, 
 that expressed some sort of supremacy and 
 strength in their possessor, making merely pretty 
 hands seem weak and ineffective. 
 
 A few moments after her entrance the conver- 
 sation drifted from Felicia, and she found herself 
 excluded, as she had no knowledge of the circum- 
 stances of which they spoke. She gathered that 
 Mrs. Branner, having some time before received 
 a small legacy, had invested it injudiciously, and 
 was now disposed to sell out precipitately at a 
 considerable loss. The others expostulated with 
 varying degrees of earnestness. Once Felicia 
 heard her husband quoted in Mrs. Branner's re- 
 plies. She looked up quickly. Their eyes met. 
 In that moment, replete with meaning, with the 
 subtle forces of recognized and half-recognized 
 emotions and antagonisms, whatever was the un- 
 expressed thought that flashed from one to the 
 other, it induced a sudden silence. The singer 
 hesitated. Then, with a heightened flush and a 
 quick change of expression, a sort of indefinite 
 lightening of look, she went on : " Mr. Ken- 
 nett says," and once, " Hugh thinks I had better 
 sell now and take what I can get when I can get 
 it."
 
 FELICIA. 305 
 
 Her lips were smiling, but there was taunt in 
 her eyes. The wife felt herself growing white ; 
 her eyes burned as they met that mocking glance. 
 She rose slowly, saying nothing. To control her 
 face ; to make no sign which Abbott and Preston 
 and Whitmarsh all keen men, and alert by 
 training to interpret minutiae of manner as ex- 
 pressive of feeling might detect; to remove 
 herself from this plausible, mocking creature, with 
 the smile upon her lips and cruelty in her eyes, 
 this was her one thought. 
 
 Rehearsal was over. The singers on the stage, 
 invested with wraps and hats, lingered in groups, 
 chatting or discussing the morning's work. The 
 members of the orchestra were dispersing. Ken- 
 nett was entering the box. 
 
 " You are ready to go ? " he said to Felicia. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Kennett, by the way ! " cried Mrs. 
 Branner, suddenly. "Did you stop at Cranlett's 
 yesterday afternoon and get my photographs, as 
 you promised ? Of course you forgot. I am so 
 sorry." 
 
 He thrust his hand into the breast pocket of 
 his coat as if in sudden recollection. 
 
 "Of course I did not forget," he said. "Here 
 they are." 
 
 He handed her the package, with a smile and 
 a bow of exaggerated ceremoniousness. In the 
 pleasantry was suggested much of the ease which 
 characterizes two widely different states of feel- 
 ing, the superficial friendliness induced by a
 
 306 FELICIA. 
 
 habit of constant and not disagreeable association, 
 as well as the cordiality resulting from the more 
 serious elements of congeniality. 
 
 Mrs. Branner was tall ; her eyes were almost 
 on a level with his. She looked straight at him 
 with her own artless, dulcet smile. 
 
 " Oh, you dear boy ! " she cried, vivaciously. 
 " You never forget anything that / ask you." 
 
 He looked surprised. He moved away ; he 
 laughed constrainedly. As Mrs. Branner opened 
 the package of photographs, he said again to Fe- 
 licia, " You are ready to go ? I am at your com- 
 mand." 
 
 "Wait one moment, only one moment," ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Branner, " and see my pictures. Oh, 
 how hideous ! " 
 
 She distributed a number of cabinet photo- 
 graphs among the group, remarking that it was a 
 shame to be so caricatured. 
 
 "What are you giving us?" said Abbott, scan- 
 ning one of them. " It 's perfectly dandy. You 
 know you don't think they are hideous. You 
 think they are particularly swell." 
 
 " Why did n't you get yourself taken in cos- 
 tume ? " objected Preston. " You look like any 
 other blonde woman in a black lace dress." 
 
 Felicia made no comment. Kennett observed 
 that the likeness was good. 
 
 "I'll forgive you, Mr. Kennett," cried Mrs. 
 Branner, coquettishly, as he was leaving the box, 
 " if you have kept one of them ! I don't intend 
 to count them."
 
 FELICIA. 307 
 
 She tossed them gayly from one hand to the 
 other. 
 
 " That 's very good of you," declared Kennett, 
 lightly. 
 
 Felicia looked over her shoulder as she went 
 out. She it was who stealthily attempted to 
 count them as they were shuffled by those smooth, 
 shapely hands of Mrs. Branner's. How many did 
 she hold ? Preston had one ; Whitrnarsh held 
 two, which he was comparing, each to each ; Ab- 
 bott had one ; and had a dozen been taken, or half 
 a dozen ? Had Kennett one in his pocket? And 
 the wife had caught herself tidying to count them 
 that she might know ! The humiliation of it ! 
 
 Added to those elements which had made her 
 torture last night there had come to her now an 
 ecstasy of anger that held her dumb. She might 
 not speak lest she break all bounds of self-control. 
 
 As she and her husband retraced the way trav- 
 ersed only two hours ago with such different feel- 
 ings, with the dawning of hope, the possibility 
 of courage, of endurance, of dispassionate reflec- 
 tion, Felicia was perceiving vaguely that the 
 most terrible phase of the passion which possessed 
 her was its sharp alternations. 
 
 Kennett broke the silence as they neared the 
 hotel. 
 
 " Did you notice," he said, with a reminiscent 
 laugh, " how kittenish Mrs. Branner is to-day ? 
 Quite flirtatious." 
 
 He looked at her with smiling eyes, and she 
 looked at him. Even her lips were white.
 
 308 FELICIA. 
 
 " I do not choose to talk about that woman," 
 she said, icily. 
 
 He seemed at a loss. His smile faded, and his 
 face wore an expression of surprise. 
 
 "Ah, well," he said, with a sudden depression 
 of manner, " if you don't want to talk of her, I 
 am sorry I mentioned her." 
 
 It was now Felicia's chief care to preserve her 
 self-command. She looked forward with dread 
 to the afternoon alone with Kennett. With her 
 inflexible sense of what she deemed due to her- 
 self, what she felt that life and others owed her, 
 she shrank with inexpressible repugnance from 
 the thought that she might lose her hold upon 
 herself and betray the torment of jealousy which 
 she was enduring. Justifiable or unjustifiable, 
 she felt that nothing could lighten the degrada- 
 tion that she should go through such an experi- 
 ence, and that he should know it. 
 
 Chance intervened to spare her the ordeal of 
 an afternoon's tete-a-tete. Kennett asked, just 
 after luncheon, if she would not make a call on 
 Abbott's wife, who was ill and " blue." 
 
 " He told me he wished you would come. His 
 family live here, you know. You won't mind it 
 if it is a little distasteful to you? They live 
 rather shabbily, I believe. Their expenses are 
 pretty heavy. He says they are as poor as Job's 
 turkey this year." 
 
 His tone was apologetic and a trifle anxious. 
 He looked at her in uncertainty.
 
 FELICIA. 309 
 
 " It will give me pleasure to go," she replied, 
 gravely. " He did not mention it to me, either 
 to-day or yesterday afternoon. I had a long talk 
 with him yesterday. I am sorry I did not know 
 before that his wife is ill." 
 
 Then she said to herself in much bitterness of 
 spirit : " Hugh thinks I am a most consummate 
 snob, and perhaps I am ; but it seems to me that I 
 don't object to Mr. Abbott's poverty as to pocket, 
 but as to soul." 
 
 She rose, and took from the wardrobe her cloak 
 and bonnet. 
 
 " If you will order a carriage," she said, " I 
 will go at once." 
 
 He looked at her, with strong impatience in his 
 face. He spoke sharply. He so seldom let go 
 his self-control that that which in another man 
 might have seemed only irritability seemed iu 
 him extreme anger. 
 
 " Felicia, do you desire to be so extravagant ? " 
 he asked. " Is it through perversity that you 
 spend money so foolishly ? I have remonstrated 
 again and again. \o\\ know how I am situated. 
 We can't afford carriages for casual afternoon 
 outings and shopping'. The livery bill is already 
 unreasonably high. Why not go in the horse- 
 cars, like other people ? " 
 
 She returned his look fixedly. There was 
 something in her face, difficult of interpretation, 
 which made him sorry he had spoken so abruptly. 
 Yet she did not seem hurt, and in her expres-
 
 310 FELICIA. 
 
 sion came a sort of indulgence ; a dawning soft- 
 ness contended with the underlying pain. 
 
 " I will go in the horse-cars," she replied, qui- 
 etly. " I did n't remember the expense of a car- 
 riage." 
 
 He walked about the room in perturbation. 
 Apologies did not come very easily to him. He 
 was used to being in the right. Still he made an 
 effort. 
 
 " I don't intend to be cross," he said, penitently, 
 " but you seem very thoughtless, and I am wor- 
 ried to death about money." 
 
 She made no reply for a moment ; then, as she 
 tied her bonnet-strings under her chin, she gave a 
 bitter little laugh. 
 
 " How happy a human being must be," she 
 said, " to have for a bete noire only money ! " 
 
 He accompanied her downstairs, hailed a car, 
 assisted her into it, and gave the conductor direc- 
 tions where she was to stop and change cars. The 
 vehicle trundled on drearily through the murky 
 streets ; for the clouded and dense air, permeated 
 with the thick smoke from the bituminous coal of 
 many factories, was almost a tangible medium ; 
 though still early in the afternoon, twilight seemed 
 already close at hand. 
 
 A sort of lethargy had succeeded the vividness 
 of Felicia's emotions ; her thoughts dwelt with 
 the heaviness and inelasticity of a fatigued mind 
 on the subject which absorbed her. She was only 
 indefinitely conscious that her feet were cold ; that
 
 FELICIA. 311 
 
 she shivered in the biting draught, as the door 
 was opened for the admission or exit of passen- 
 gers ; that the straw in the bottom of the dingy 
 car was spotted with tobacco juice ; that her com- 
 panions were for the most part old women with 
 market baskets, and middle-aged men who dif- 
 fused the odor of garlic as they animatedly con- 
 versed in guttural tones, with many an " ach " 
 and " Gott," and the wild gesticulation of unbri- 
 dled argument. 
 
 When the car stopped, and the conductor 
 opened the door and signified that she had reached 
 her destination, she descended into a region unfa- 
 miliar to her. 
 
 " Your car '11 be along torec'ly, lady," he said, 
 as he gave the driver the signal to proceed. 
 When he reached the next corner, he suddenly 
 thumped the rail of the platform with his big 
 glove in recollection. " Bless the Lord, if I did- 
 n't put her out on the wrong street ! " he ex- 
 claimed. " The cars go down that street and up 
 the next." 
 
 He laughed a little at the thought of her dis- 
 comfiture, and stopped the car for a fat Irishwo- 
 man with a basket, clothes, this time. 
 
 Felicia stood for some minutes on the corner, 
 waiting for a car. Several passed going down, 
 none going up. So little were sundry practical 
 phases of life familiar to her that she did not no- 
 tice that the track was a single one, and that of 
 necessity no car could go in the direction she
 
 312 FELICIA. 
 
 wished to take. The wind whistled around the 
 corner on which she stood. She shivered as it 
 struck her, and finally began to walk up the 
 street, pausing now and then, and looking over 
 her shoulder, in the hope of being overtaken by 
 the big, lumbering vehicle. Her thoughts had 
 been diverted into a new channel, and she became, 
 as she walked, more and more alertly conscious 
 of the unaccustomed phases of life suddenly pre- 
 sented to her view. 
 
 It was no doubt a serious misfortune to her 
 that whatever she deemed objectionable angered 
 as well as repelled her. She could not endure 
 with indifference that people should be stupid or 
 ill-natured, boorish, foolish, overdressed or inap- 
 propriately dressed ; that they should not know 
 what to say, and when and how to say it ; that 
 they should not move with ease and have good 
 manners. Her respect for the proprieties, the de- 
 corous and seemly in life, had been cultivated un- 
 til it was almost a religion. With all her mental 
 scope and avidity of imagination, she had not 
 enough of the poetic gift to see anything pictur- 
 esque in poverty through its repulsiveness. She 
 had known so little of lowly lives and their sur- 
 roundings that she had slight sympathetic insight 
 or appreciation of their woes, their heroism, their 
 struggles ; she saw only the grotesque exterior. 
 To-day she was brought into closer contact with 
 those sorry conditions than she had ever been be- 
 fore. Her own deep absorptions gave way to the
 
 FELICIA. 313 
 
 contemplation of this unlovely status. Her route 
 took her through one of the humbler retail arte- 
 ries of the city, which, while respectable, were in 
 their shabbiness far removed from the well-to-do, 
 fashionable pathways. She saw frowzy, anxious, 
 peevish women ; noisy, neglected children ; whis- 
 tling, quarreling boys ; coarse-faced men ; shabby 
 tenement houses, all repeated ad infinitum 
 along the vistas of the side streets. It was a pos- 
 itive offense to her that the shop windows should 
 be filled with tawdry finery, absurdly imitating 
 the fashions, placarded with figures far above 
 their value, but indicative of marvelous cheapness ; 
 that forlorn feminine gulls should chaffer over the 
 counters attaining these bargains, or covetously 
 gaze at them from without ; that in front of the 
 huckster shops crates of vegetables and coops con- 
 taining restless live chickens and ducks should 
 impede her way ; that she should pass saloons 
 with rough men lounging about. The din was 
 deafening ; great wagons laden with iron bars 
 clanged by in continuous succession ; the air was 
 now and again pierced with the shrill tones of 
 fruit-venders, the still more dissonant notes of the 
 knife-grinder's bell, and the doleful cry of " Rags ! 
 rags ! rags ! " 
 
 By degrees she entered a quieter region. The 
 shops were fewer and dwelling-houses were more 
 numerous. A series of vacant lots, with piles of 
 ashes and tin cans, gave nevertheless a welcome 
 sense of space and air, and in this vicinity she
 
 314 FELICIA. 
 
 found the address that had been furnished her. 
 It was a small brick dwelling, placed considerably 
 back from the street, and with a ragged front 
 yard. The bell wire was broken, and it was 
 only after a persistent knocking, which left her 
 knuckles sore, that Felicia heard first a shrill 
 voice calling peremptorily, then the sound of 
 steps. They were strange, rattling, thumping, 
 irregular steps, rising above a mingled chorus of 
 loud exclamations, as of fright or anger, and con- 
 vulsive laughter. After a few moments of fum- 
 bling at the bolt the door suddenly flew open, 
 and revealed a tall, slim girl of twelve, wearing a 
 dark calico dress and a white apron ; she had a 
 shock of curly brown hair, and was uncertainly 
 balanced on a pair of roller skates. Two or three 
 younger children, following her, had apparently 
 impeded her progress. All were panting and 
 flushed as if from a recent struggle. 
 
 " Mrs. Abbott ? " she repeated, in answer to 
 Felicia's inquiry, looking at her with a hard stare, 
 at once curious and indifferent, from under her 
 tousled bangs, and vigorously working her jaws 
 upon an exceedingly obdurate piece of chewing- 
 gum. " Come in," she added, shortly. Then 
 she thrust her head into a door close at hand, 
 and calling out, " Sister Jenny lady wants to 
 see you ! " skated off, eluding the suddenly out- 
 stretched hands of her companions, balancing her- 
 self with her swaying arms, she was evidently 
 a novice, and laughing wildly.
 
 FELICIA. 315 
 
 The sordidness, the shabby disarray, deepened 
 Felicia's intense depression, as she stood hesitat- 
 ing in the dusty, unkempt hall, and she was not 
 reassured when Mr. Abbott appeared at the open 
 door. He was in his shirt-sleeves; his waistcoat 
 and trowsers were profusely and freshly wrinkled ; 
 his hair was tumbled, and his eyes were bloodshot 
 and swollen. He was plainly just awake, and 
 when, still somewhat dazed, he invited her in, she 
 was sorry she had come. There was so evidently 
 no preparation for the reception of visitors that, 
 as she took the offered chair near the fire, she 
 felt painfully that her call was an intrusion. 
 
 The woman in a faded calico wrapper, sitting 
 in an easy-chair, supported by pillows and half 
 enveloped in a blanket, wore on her sharp, thin 
 features so many expressions that it was hard to 
 say which predominated, melancholy, physical 
 suffering, discontent. The room was sparsely fur- 
 nished, but in great disorder, the scattered arti- 
 cles giving it an overcrowded appearance. 
 
 Mr. Abbott did not have to be awake long to 
 achieve his unreasoning perversity. With that 
 sharp insight of hers, Felicia divined that he was 
 pleased because she had come, and that, contra- 
 dictory as usual, he resented it as patronage. 
 
 "You must take us as you find us," he said. 
 " It 's not a very elegant way to live ; but every 
 man can't put up at the swell hotels, like Ken- 
 nett. All of us were not so lucky as to marry 
 heiresses."
 
 316 FELICIA. 
 
 He smiled with an air of amiable inadvertence, 
 and reflected that this stroke would cut both Feli- 
 cia and his wife, who was gazing at the visitor 
 with a face of blank amaze. 
 
 Felicia realized that he had spoken to Kennett 
 cf the illness in his family in such a way as to 
 make her husband feel that she had been remiss 
 in not coming before, but without the slightest 
 desire that she should come at all. She usually 
 had herself under good control, but now she was 
 cruelly embarrassed. She had colored deeply ; 
 her voice faltered as she spoke to the wife. " I 
 am sorry you are ill," she said. 
 
 " I never am well," returned Mrs. Abbott. 
 " This is the meanest climate in the world." 
 
 " The climate is very changeable," said Felicia, 
 sympathetically. 
 
 " Say ! you 're always putting it on something ! " 
 exclaimed Abbott to his wife, with sour jocose- 
 ness. "Yesterday 't was because the kids wor- 
 ried your life out." 
 
 "Well, they are a bother," retorted Mrs Ab- 
 bott. 
 
 " And none of them are worth the powder and 
 lead 't would take to kill them, are you, Tom ? " 
 added Abbott, addressing a stout youngster of 
 three years, who had come in from the back room 
 and planted himself before Felicia, at whom he 
 was gazing with sharp gray eyes. As his father 
 spoke, he turned upon him for a moment his ir- 
 regular, preternaturally intelligent features ; then
 
 FELICIA. 317 
 
 shaking off the half-caressing, half-teasing pater- 
 nal hand from his head, which he had crowned 
 with the remnants of an. old blonde wig, that gave 
 him an inexpressibly elfish and comical appear- 
 ance, he again gravely addressed himself to star- 
 ing at the visitor. 
 
 Felicia took the little boy's pudgy hand in hers 
 and asked him his name, to which he vouchsafed 
 no reply ; then, as his attention was attracted to 
 her muff, he passed his other hand along the fur, 
 and looked up at her with a dawning smile. 
 
 " Are you going to take the role of Ludovic," 
 said Felicia, " with your long lovelocks, like your 
 papa?" 
 
 " No," said the child, promptly, "he sings ugly; 
 he 's mean ; I hate him." 
 
 Abbott burst out laughing. " That plucky 
 little rascal ain't afraid of man or beast," he 
 declared, pridefully. " Sometimes he is great 
 friends with me. I don't know what ails him to- 
 day." 
 
 He rose and went into the other room. " He 's 
 got to have his snack," said his wife ; "he always 
 eats something when he wakes up. Nelly fixes it 
 for him since I been sick so much." 
 
 Through the open door Felicia could see a 
 young woman moving about; there was something 
 vaguely familiar in her appearance, which pres- 
 ently was recognizable as the recollection of the 
 chorus singer whom the manager had mimicked, 
 on the occasion of that first attendance at re- 
 hearsal.
 
 318 FELICIA. 
 
 " Nelly 's my sister," said Mrs. Abbott, who 
 seemed pleased with a new acquaintance, and glad 
 of an opportunity to talk. " She stays with me 
 when the troupe is here, and helps me a deal 
 about my young ones. She 's in the chorus now, 
 but she '11 get her chance some day. She 's quick 
 an' smart, an' she 's understudied ever so many 
 parts. I tell her to keep clear of marryin', if she 
 knows what 's good for her." 
 
 The subdued roar of a gasoline stove was on the 
 air, and presently the aroma of coffee arose, min- 
 gled with the odor of the burning gasoline and 
 of broiling meat. The mantelpiece in the adjoin- 
 ing room, seen through the open door, was orna- 
 mented with a large assortment of tin tomato and 
 fruit cans and some wooden butter-boats ; a sec- 
 tion of a table covered with a red lunch-cloth, 
 and holding several plates, cups, and saucers, was 
 also in full view. Soon there was heard the clat- 
 ter of a knife and fork, above which was the 
 sound of voices in subdued altercation. Sud- 
 denly, Abbott, tilted back in his chair, became 
 visible in the doorway. 
 
 " Nelly wants me to ask you to have something. 
 Come in, if you think you can stand such snide 
 cooking as hers," he said with a grin, "but I don't 
 promise you much." 
 
 Nelly also appeared in the doorway, all trace of 
 her pertness gone, flushed and confused. 
 
 " I can bring you something, you need n't 
 move," she said, diffidently.
 
 FELICIA. 319 
 
 There is some merit in Madame Sevier's sys- 
 tem, after all, or perhaps it was only inborn 
 instinct that prompted Felicia. " I have just had 
 dinner," she said, she realized that Abbott 
 would consider it " frills " if she called the meal 
 luncheon, " but I should be glad of a cup of 
 coffee." 
 
 They were all pleased that she should take it, 
 and Mrs. Abbott was perhaps pleased as well that 
 it should be taken here, and that the dishevel- 
 ment of the other room was not also fully on ex- 
 hibition. The coffee was very bad and very badly 
 made, but Felicia drank it heroically ; and it is 
 possible that her assertion that she enjoyed it will, 
 on the day of final reckoning, meet with leniency, 
 in view of extenuating circumstances. 
 
 Nelly had placed a plate on the floor beside 
 two little girls, who addressed to her not one 
 word, but mechanically and absently devoured 
 their meal, while they did not cease to carry their 
 respective dolls through the various episodes that 
 presented themselves to apparently redundant im- 
 aginations. The half-grown sister, still on skates, 
 walked noisily through the room, and seated her- 
 self at the table in the inner apartment. The 
 boy climbed up to his chair beside her, and calmly 
 disposed of whatever pleased him, feeding him- 
 self unceremoniously with his chubby fingers. 
 
 It was evident that this was the usual family 
 life in the queer home. Was it necessarily, she 
 wondered, so forlorn a home ? Did it require all
 
 320 FELICIA. 
 
 their time, and thought, and effort merely to live, 
 to the exclusion of neatness, of beauty, of com- 
 fort, of the becoming- and appropriate ? At any 
 rate, a little gentleness and tender consideration 
 might inhabit it with them, instead of the hus- 
 band's jeering pleasantries, and the wife's weak 
 complainings, and Nelly's pettish temper, aroused 
 more than once by Abbott's mocking sallies. 
 
 Felicia brought the visit to a close as soon as 
 possible, without making merely a duty call. 
 This was, however, the manner in which Abbott 
 chose to regard the incident. 
 
 " I 'in glad Kennett sent you," he said, as he 
 accompanied her to the front door. "Jenny 
 don't have many pleasures. Why," he broke off, 
 in simulated surprise, looking down the street, 
 " where 's your carriage ? You came in the 
 street-cars ? I should n't suppose you 'd conde- 
 scend to ride in them, like any ordinary person. 
 Is Kennett getting stingy to you ? Ah, well, love's 
 young dream is not what it 's cracked up to be, 
 is it ? " His face was deeply wrinkled with his 
 mocking smile, particularly intense at this mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Bearing away this last sarcasm as a sort of 
 flavor, giving a biting character to her other trou- 
 blous emotions, Felicia left the house and walked 
 up the street. What mistaken impulse controlled 
 her that, in this mood, she should, instead of sig- 
 naling the car going down-town, turn her face in 
 the direction of her brother's house !
 
 XVI. 
 
 FELICIA walked rapidly, as if with definite pur- 
 pose, fty degrees she entered a region that gave 
 evidence of more prosperity and comfort. Still 
 going westward, she came at last into a fashion- 
 able neighborhood of showy dwellings, ambitious 
 in architecture and finish, the abodes of the 
 wealthy class of the city. 
 
 The quick-coming winter twilight was already 
 at hand. Snow was again falling, sifting deli- 
 cately down, incidentally as it were. Lights had 
 sprung into many windows ; the round dimpled 
 faces of children looked out sometimes. In front 
 of one of the large houses a florist's wagon had 
 drawn up to the curb, giving suggestions of im- 
 pending festivity. Before a great stone church 
 stood a number of carriages ; and presently there 
 was a stir among the expectant groups on the 
 sidewalk, as a bridal party emerged from the 
 arched doorway. And at the next corner was a 
 procession returning from the cemetery : a hearse 
 with sombre plumes, and vehicles containing 
 black -robed figures with chilled, grief -marked 
 faces. The muffled drivers urged their tired 
 horses. Darkness was gathering fast. The still, 
 snow-covered city of the dead lay miles away in 
 the dusk.
 
 322 FELICIA. 
 
 She had no sympathies, no reflections, no de- 
 ductions, half acquiescent, half philosophical ; no 
 " bonheur, malheur, tout passe" as a mental 
 comment. In certain states of feeling one's own 
 grief dwarfs the universe, annihilates joy and 
 sorrow, save as factors in one's own fate. 
 
 She had reached that very desirable corner and 
 the big new double house. She paused suddenly. 
 The window shades had not been drawn, but the 
 gas was lighted. She seemed to have stood thus 
 in front of the building many times, and looked 
 in at the glowing room, so vividly had she ima- 
 gined the situation. It was all exactly as she had 
 pictured it, the chandeliers, the paintings, the 
 upholstery. And here was John ; just in from 
 dinner, no doubt, for he threw himself into an 
 easy-chair, and caught up the paper with his own 
 inimitable, long, visible, post-prandial sigh. And 
 here was Sophie, sinking into her rocking-chair, 
 with the baby in her arms. The baby no, an- 
 other baby. Ah, changes of which she was never 
 apprised came in their family life, from which 
 she was excluded. The old baby, the superseded 
 baby, her namesake, little Felicia, was walking 
 sturdily across the floor in her dainty white dress, 
 with her soft fair hair about her brow, holding 
 out her dimpled hands toward Oh, why had 
 she come, why had she come ! Suddenly she 
 saw her father, unchanged, save perhaps that his 
 hair had a more silvery gleam. He stooped and 
 took the child in his arms ; he kissed the delicate
 
 323 
 
 cheek. Did he call her " little daughter "? Did 
 he say in his old, tender, peremptory tone, " Feli- 
 cia " ? Did he never remember another Felicia, 
 whose heart was breaking ? 
 
 She got back to the hotel as best she could. 
 She was so white, so rigid, with the effort at self- 
 command that, as she met Keunett in the hall, 
 near their room, he looked at her in alarm. 
 
 " Has anything happened ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 She entered the room, and he followed her. 
 Then, as she closed the door, she confronted him 
 with haggard eyes. 
 
 " Can I endure it longer ? " she cried, wildly. 
 " Can I live like this ? Live ! Am I living ? 
 And yet I am not dead. I could not suffer so if 
 I were dead." 
 
 He saw it at last. She was suffering poign- 
 antly. He attempted to soothe her. 
 
 " Don't try to comfort me ! " she said. " Don't 
 tell me it does n't matter. We must face it ; we 
 must meet it." 
 
 " Now be calm, Felicia," he said, in that rea- 
 sonable voice of his which could once control her, 
 but which now, in some moods, irritated her be- 
 yond endurance. " Tell me what you mean. I 
 promise beforehand to do anything possible that 
 you desire." 
 
 She tried to control herself, to subdue her 
 heavy panting and the strong trembling that had 
 seized upon her, to steady her shaking fingers as 
 they convulsively unfastened her wrap and re-
 
 324 FELICIA. 
 
 moved her gloves. One of her rings was acciden- 
 tally drawn off and fell upon the floor. As her 
 husband bent to recover it she stopped him. 
 
 " What does it matter ! " she cried. " It is 
 only a bauble. But when our happiness, our 
 priceless happiness, slips away from us, you make 
 not the slightest effort to get it back. You never 
 see it. You never stoop for it. You don't even 
 know it has gone. You never miss it." 
 
 Her slim fingers tightened on his arm. Her 
 agitation communicated itself to him. There was 
 a responsive tremor in his voice. 
 
 " Are you reproaching me ? " he asked. 
 
 " No, no ! " she exclaimed. " I will not re- 
 proach you." 
 
 Again she put a strong constraint upon herself. 
 She removed her hands from his arms, and crossed 
 the room. She laid aside her wrap and bonnet, and 
 as she came back she stooped, picked up the ring, 
 and placed it on her shaking finger. With marked 
 deliberation of gesture she seated herself, and 
 when she looked up he saw how much her forced 
 calm was costing her ; her strength was spent. 
 
 " Don't be angry," she said, piteously. 
 
 " I am only distressed," he replied, gently. 
 
 " I want to be reasonable," she went on, more 
 firmly, " and I will try not to distress you." 
 
 " What is it?" he asked, as he seated himself. 
 
 " Hugh, it is the life we live. It is a terrible 
 fate to be excluded from everything of value, 
 from all the world, from all appropriate sur-
 
 FELICIA. 325 
 
 roundings ; cut off, exiled, interdicted, denied, 
 yet tantalized with the sight of it, so close to it ! 
 Is there nothing is there nothing we can do ? " 
 
 He looked at her in silence. 
 
 " It is such a false position," she went on pas- 
 sionately, her meagre stock of calmness already 
 giving way, " that you, with your nature and your 
 talents, should have for your best friend that 
 that venomous man ! He is your equal in sta- 
 tion, and yet he is not your equal any more than 
 a drunken tramp ; and his wife is not my equal." 
 
 " I ought not to have asked you to go there," 
 he said. "Yet what does it matter to us? Why 
 do you care for Abbott's manner? He can be 
 very disagreeable, but he has some good qualities. 
 At any rate, he is nothing to us." 
 
 " Oli, facts are facts ! He and his wife are 
 our friends, our circle, the only circle we have. 
 Think of it ! That is the only woman with whom 
 I have exchanged a dozen words since since 
 Mrs. Morris was so kind and polite, last summer." 
 
 She broke into a bitter laugh that ended with a 
 gush of tears. She brushed them away hastily. 
 
 "And such a home ! so ignoble, so grotesque ! 
 such rudeness, such unkindness, such loutish indif- 
 ference ! too stupid to be even unhappiness. It 
 is not the poverty; it is the dreadful, dreadful 
 tone; it is almost disreputable. And there are 
 other homes so different. I see them through the 
 windows as I go along the streets. Homes 
 .where husbands respect their wives, and children
 
 326 FELICIA. 
 
 love their parents ; where I see serenity, and 
 security, and tenderness, and veneration. Oh, 
 Hugh, Hugh, I passed John's, and oh me 
 papa papa! " 
 
 Her voice broke into cries ; her figure was 
 shaken by convulsive sobs ; the tears trickled 
 through her fingers. He could only look at her 
 miserably, forlornly, helplessly. 
 
 By degrees the violence of her emotion ex- 
 pended itself, and she leaned back in her chair, 
 holding her handkerchief to her eyes. He took 
 her other hand, cold and nerveless, in his, but he 
 said nothing. 
 
 " I did not intend to tell you that," she went 
 on, after a long pause. " I only wanted to tell 
 you what I was thinking on my way back. I 
 went over the whole ground. I reasoned it out 
 calmly. I feel that we must get out of this false 
 position, away from this odious association with 
 unendurable people. If we would, we could take 
 the place we ought to have in the world, a 
 solid, valuable place. We would not be rich, 
 perhaps not more than comfortable ; but we 
 could live, we could be very happy, and very 
 very " 
 
 He stared at her in such unfeigned amazement 
 that she faltered. Was she seriously proposing 
 that he should relinquish his career because Mr. 
 Abbott was ill-natured, and lived shabbily, and 
 had a commonplace family, and because she had 
 given up, as she had expected to do, the associa*. 
 tions of her girlhood ?
 
 FELICIA. 827 
 
 " It seems to me that you are talking very 
 wildly," he said, with coldness. 
 
 " Hear me out, Hugh ! " she cried, placing her 
 other hand on his with a firm grasp, and looking 
 at him with earnest eyes. " You would n't mind 
 it after a little. You were satisfied last summer. 
 We were very happy. We could be everything 
 to each other ; could we not, Hugh ? Once we 
 were. Oh, you know we were once ! As it is, I 
 do not share your life. I have none of my own. 
 I merely exist, like a parasite, a poor, useless, 
 insignificant appendage. And you, are you 
 not worthy of a better niche than that which Mr. 
 Abbott and Mr. Preston aspire to fill ? You 
 could get into something intrinsically valuable. 
 A man of your capacities can do anything." 
 
 He marveled that she could be at once so quick 
 and so dense. 
 
 " Capacities count for nothing in any line," 
 he said, " without special training. I have had 
 training in only one direction." 
 
 She looked at him vaguely. "Isn't there 
 something f " she asked. 
 
 "If I should give- up the stage," he went on, 
 " the mere idea is preposterous, how could we 
 live ? Do you think it would be well for me to 
 devote my life and talents to giving music lessons 
 because you consider that more genteel ? " 
 
 " Are you going to be sarcastic to me 
 again f " she cried, with a sharp ring of pain in 
 her voice.
 
 328 FELICIA. 
 
 His sense of irritation had been asserting itself 
 over his dismayed surprise. Now it received a 
 check. He resolved that, say what she might, he 
 would speak no words that could rankle as those 
 words which he once spoke in his wrath had 
 rankled. 
 
 " My only opportunities lie in the line of mu- 
 sic," he continued. " I might do something in 
 the way of composing songs, but in my case that 
 would be too precarious to be considered. A man 
 could not rely for a living on lucky inspirations 
 which would sell. They might not present them- 
 selves." 
 
 Was this all ? Could life hold out to him, with 
 his mind and his character, no other fate than 
 such a meagre uncertainty as writing songs, or 
 the ill-paid drudgery of music lessons, or the 
 opportunity of singing in tights and with a 
 painted face for the well-to-do, well-placed peo- 
 ple who held themselves immeasurably his supe- 
 riors ? 
 
 She spoke suddenly, with a new firmness. 
 
 "You can give up the stage," she declared. 
 " We can live perfectly well on my property that 
 my mother's father left me. You remember, 
 when I finally decided to be married, my brother 
 sent a lawyer with settlements for you to sign, 
 and you signed them, and the income is to be put 
 aside for me. Why can't we live on that prop- 
 erty? Why need you do anything? How can 
 two people who love each other say about money,
 
 FELICIA. 329 
 
 * This is yours,' or ' This is mine ' ? Will you 
 weigh my happiness against your pride ? " 
 
 He made no reply, but his face expressed 
 strong displeasure. She broke again into en- 
 treaties. Her loss of self-control was rare. 
 "With perfect health and strong will, she was in- 
 tolerant of nerves, and tears, and weakness. The 
 utter relinquishment of her wonted composure 
 added to his difficulties. 
 
 " It is not that I am a snob," she persisted. 
 " I don't want you to misunderstand me. I don't 
 value the opinion of rich and great people. I 
 don't care for their money or their approval. I 
 don't care for poverty ; that is not what I fear. 
 I don't want a fine house, and carriages, and 
 horses, and carte blanche to spend as I choose. 
 Once I thought I did, but I know myself better 
 now. I did myself injustice. That is not what I 
 value." 
 
 He looked at her vaguely. " Then what is it 
 you value ? " he asked. 
 
 " My pride, my sacred pride." 
 
 He said nothing. 
 
 " It is stabbed every day, every hour. My 
 portion in life is humiliation. It is not because 
 the people who have a valuable position think 
 ours an unendurable position ; it is because I my- 
 self think it unendurable. And so I want to give 
 up this life which offers nothing that is truly of 
 worth, nothing but the praise of your singing 
 from a foolish public which does not know any-
 
 330 FELICIA. 
 
 thing about singing. I want to go to the planta- 
 tion, and live there imostentatiously, and quietly, 
 and suitably. Promise me, Hugh. We could 
 have a home. It would not be fine, but it would 
 be our own home." She glanced at her little be- 
 longings, that so vainly simulated that altar before 
 which every woman's heart prostrates itself, sooner 
 or later. " We could live for each other there. 
 We should not need to have those odious misun- 
 derstandings as part of our lives. Promise me, 
 Hugh." 
 
 There was a long pause while she sat clasping 
 his hands, her eloquent eyes on his face. 
 
 "The thing is impossible," he said at last, 
 " even if I were to consent, which nothing would 
 induce me to do." 
 
 " Why is it impossible ? " 
 
 Again he hesitated. " I prefer not to tell 
 you." 
 
 " But I insist, I insist." 
 
 " I hope you will not force this upon me," he 
 said, rising and walking in indecision about the 
 room. 
 
 " I do force it. I will know." 
 
 " Why, Felicia, you evidently don't understand 
 that the income of that property would not sup- 
 port us in even the plainest style. The property 
 is at present utterly unsalable. Much of the 
 land is heavily wooded ; much of it has been de- 
 nuded of trees, and is covered with cypress 
 stumps, and beside is cut up by bayous and is
 
 FELICIA. 331 
 
 under water nearly half the year, it is unfit for 
 cultivation. The rents of the small portion that 
 has been cleared are not enough, I should judge, 
 after the taxes are paid, to do more than compass 
 your dressmaker's bills. The property may have 
 a future, when it is cleared, or when railroads are 
 built and the country is developed, but at present 
 it is unavailable from many points of view. I 
 would not live as you propose if it were possible ; 
 as it is not possible, you had better dismiss the 
 idea from consideration." 
 
 She looked at him blankly. 
 
 " I never was there, but I thought it was a fine 
 plantation. I thought we might go there and 
 live quietly, as happily as we did last summer." 
 
 " It is not a fine plantation. Besides, there is 
 no house on the place except a few negro cabins ; 
 and if there were a house we should die of mala- 
 ria. Neither of us is acclimated to the swamp. 
 And there is practically no income." 
 
 A long pause ensued. 
 
 " But I have always been called an heiress," 
 she said, piteously. 
 
 " You have been called an heiress more on ac- 
 count of your expectations from your father than 
 because of what you actually possess," he replied. 
 
 She was bitterly disappointed ; in surprise he 
 saw that she was bitterly humiliated. She had 
 sunk in her own estimation. 
 
 It was not, perhaps, to his credit that he stood 
 on higher ground in certain regards than she.
 
 332 FELICIA. 
 
 He owed it rather to his Bohemian method of 
 living than to any innate nobility, that he cared 
 for money because of what it would buy. While 
 she did not sufficiently prize, in one sense, money, 
 she definitely prized wealth, its subtler as well as 
 its practical values. Her fortune, her conse- 
 quence, her expensive social training and educa- 
 tion, and her position, had all been a part of her- 
 self ; she had adequately, perhaps unconsciously, 
 appreciated them ; she had appreciated herself 
 much because of them. 
 
 She lifted her dismayed eyes to his. All at 
 once she held out both hands with an expressive 
 gesture of despair. 
 
 " If I am not rich," she said, in a tense, low 
 voice, " what am I ? I have no talents, no occu- 
 pation, no hopes, no friends, no home. And no 
 money as well ? I am indeed a poor thing, a 
 parasite, mean and insignificant." 
 
 In some respects hers was the stronger nature ; 
 under her influence he saw her sorrows with her 
 eyes. It might have occurred to a different man 
 to suggest that she was, instead of this, a wife 
 who held in trust her husband's happiness as well 
 as her own. 
 
 Suddenly she cried out sharply : 
 
 " And we have no choice ? You are sure ? 
 We must live on this way, in this repulsive at- 
 mosphere, with these men we know, and these 
 these women ? Can't you see that it is killing 
 me ? I am dying by inches ! I am torn to pieces I
 
 FELICIA. 833 
 
 I am broken on the rack ! To breathe the same 
 air that she that they do ! To see you to 
 see you look as you did last night when when 
 you spoke of Oh, what am I saying ! And 
 she calls you calls you ' Hugh ' ! She dares to 
 call you by your name ! And last night when 
 you spoke of her you looked you looked Oh, 
 how can I remember it and live ! " She rose and 
 walked wildly about the room, striking her hands 
 frantically together. He sat motionless, staring 
 at her, the amazement in his face canceling all 
 other expressions. For the moment he was pos- 
 sessed by the idea that she had lost her senses. 
 Then there flashed into his mind the thought that 
 there was something deeper than the grievance of 
 their mode of life, something more bitter than 
 merely external conditions, bitter though he knew 
 they were to her. In his surprise and agitation 
 he had hardly followed what she was saying. 
 
 "I I don't understand you " he began. 
 
 In a moment there came to him a vague realiza- 
 tion of her full meaning. He rose and confronted 
 her. " Tell me," he said, catching both her hands 
 in his, and bringing her irregular progress to a 
 stop, " tell me what it is you mean." 
 
 She stood panting, and looking at him with di- 
 lated, terrified eyes. For all at once she was 
 afraid of him. That latent ferocity which was so 
 seldom called to his face expressed itself now in 
 the stern eyes, the strong lower jaw brought heav- 
 ily forward, the set teeth, the intent frown. She
 
 334 FELICIA. 
 
 shrank away from him. " I don't know what I 
 meant ! " she cried, piteously. " It is all folly. 
 I am ill. I am nervous. I don't mean any- 
 thing!" 
 
 " What did you mean by what you said ? " he 
 persisted. " Look at me, Felicia. Tell me what 
 you meant." 
 
 His deep gray eyes, lit by that unwonted fire, 
 constrained her. In what broken words she could 
 command she told him what had been in her 
 thoughts for the last twenty-four hours. She in- 
 terrupted herself sometimes by cries and hysteri- 
 cal sobs, and more than once declared wildly that 
 she had been nervous and ill ; she had not been 
 herself ; she had been frantic with a delusion. 
 In her agitation she did not see that she had 
 taken all the blame to herself ; she only saw that 
 he was intensely angry, and her arraignment 
 seemed to her now strangely inadequate. 
 
 He heard her through without a word of reply. 
 When she had concluded, he stood motionless a 
 moment ; then he threw her hands from him. It 
 might have been a sarcastic commentary upon the 
 habit of mind which had, through years of train- 
 ing, come to be his second nature, that, at this 
 moment of supreme earnestness, the gesture was 
 one suggestive of finished feigning, the ac- 
 cepted stage expression of renunciation. He 
 caught up his overcoat, tossed it over his arm, 
 and looked about for his hat, still ominously 
 silent.
 
 FELICIA. 335 
 
 * Oh, Hugh, Hugh," she cried, catching at his 
 hand, "you are not going without a word to 
 me?" 
 
 " Such discussions do no good," he said. His 
 voice was cold, but it trembled ; his hands were 
 shaking. 
 
 " You are angry with me ! You will say no- 
 thing give me no assurance " 
 
 "You want your husband to assure you that 
 he is not a scoundrel ? I cannot find words for 
 that." 
 
 He opened the door and made his way along 
 the hall, striving to quiet his nerves and master 
 his agitation. He walked downstairs instead of 
 ringing for the elevator. As he passed through 
 the office, the current of his thoughts was sharply 
 altered. His eyes chanced to fall upon the big 
 clock. He took out his watch, and hurriedly 
 compared the two timepieces. There was no mis- 
 take. 
 
 These complicated domestic discussions require 
 time.' It was past eight o'clock. 
 
 He encountered a messenger in red-hot haste, 
 as he neared the theatre. When he arrived, he 
 met black looks, and swift reproaches, and eager 
 injunctions. He heeded nothing. He absorbed 
 himself, mind and body, in the feat of changing 
 his clothes in the least possible time, and, without 
 an instant's intermission, he who had so ordered 
 his life that for ten years he had not permitted 
 himself to be hurried, or agitated, or derelict,
 
 336 FELICIA. 
 
 who accounted serenity of soul and mastery of the 
 physique the first elements of artistic excellence, 
 walked upon the stage into the presence of a large 
 and critical audience, dazed, panting, breathless, 
 dinnerless, prosaic consideration, but of primal 
 importance to a singer, his limbs trembling, 
 his nerves shattered, his memory and his voice 
 at the mercy of the accidents of the evening. 
 
 It seemed as if the long anguish of that per- 
 formance would never drag to its conclusion. 
 His previous habit of self-command was as if it 
 had never existed ; it had prepared him for no 
 such emergency, no such tumult of feeling, as this. 
 During the waits he struggled frantically for com- 
 posure. " You 're all right now, dear old boy," 
 Abbott said to him again and again ; and was 
 that the voice so often heard in bitter satires, and 
 in taunts that stung like the lash of a whip? 
 Venom ? It was so gentle and mellifluous, so 
 fraternal and cordial, that Kenuett found himself 
 relying on it as he had never before relied on any 
 power outside of his own control. While he was 
 on the stage, he would without warrant or prece- 
 dent change his place, that he might feel the 
 strong support of a friendly proximity ; a sympa- 
 thetic hand laid on his shoulder when it might 
 be ; a few words in an undertone ; the glance of 
 eyes that he had often known as mocking, often 
 quizzical, but now kind kind. 
 
 This influence helped him to regain in some 
 degree his tranquillity. To the general public
 
 FELICIA. 337 
 
 there was as yet nothing unusual. To those 
 versed in the minutiae of theatrical matters a 
 hurry was perceptible, an eagerness : a lack of the 
 polish, assurance, control, that usually character- 
 ized him. Perhaps his modicum of self-posses- 
 sion came to him a little too early, bringing with 
 it a relaxation of the intense strain that had 
 served him in lien of his wonted calm equipoise. 
 
 In the last scene of the last act he had a solo, 
 through which ran, as an accompaniment, a se- 
 ries of pianissimo phrases by a chorus of female 
 voices, a nice effect and very popular. It oc- 
 curred at an important moment, the culmina- 
 tion of the act, and indeed of the whole work. 
 What was the matter with it? Was the orches- 
 tra to blame, the chorus? In another instant the 
 fact was evident. The voice of the soloist was 
 not only faulty of intonation, but false, glar- 
 ingly, grotesquely false ; by turns flat and sharp, 
 completely out of tune. The most unmusical au- 
 ditor could not fail to notice it ; it was an afflic- 
 tion to connoisseurs. The volume and robustness 
 of tone only intensified the discord ; the anguish 
 on the singer's face pointed the disaster. 
 
 " This is the beginning of the end," said Ab- 
 bott to Preston, off at the right wing. 
 " Fee, f o, fi, f um, 
 I smell the blood of an American man," 
 
 returned Preston, smothering his laugh. 
 
 The English tenor also smelt the blood of an 
 American man; he kept, with what decency he
 
 338 FELICIA. 
 
 might, his elation out of his face, but his eyes 
 were gleaming. 
 
 Kennett was calm enough at last ; the worst 
 had happened. He dashed aside the icy drops 
 that had started upon his brow ; he moved with 
 ease ; his voice was itself once more. There was 
 little after this for him to do. He did it smoothly 
 and mechanically enough. As he took his way to 
 his dressing-room, he passed, near one of the wings, 
 the manager, who did not look toward him, and 
 whose face wore a certain absolute neutrality more 
 expressive of intense anger than the most indig- 
 nant glance. 
 
 " Go and get drunk, Kennett," said Abbott, 
 bitterly, " go and get drunk. That 's the only 
 thing for you now." 
 
 He made no reply. He composedly changed 
 his clothes, and took his way to the hotel. 
 
 He hardly looked at Felicia. In his preoccu- 
 pation, he did not notice, as he entered the room, 
 that she was coming toward him with outstretched 
 hands, that her face was eager, her eyes appeal- 
 ing. She stopped abruptly as he spoke. 
 
 " Does it never occur to you," he said, crossing 
 his arms on the back of a large easy-chair and 
 leaning on them, " that you undertake a serious 
 responsibility when you use your influence on a 
 man to frustrate his ambition and nullify his 
 talents?" 
 
 " What has happened ? " she asked, tremu- 
 lously.
 
 FELICIA. 339 
 
 " I made a bad failure to-night, for the first time 
 in my life." After a pause, he added, with a 
 short laugh, " A few more such unnerving scenes 
 as we had this evening, and it will not be a ques- 
 tion of relinquishing the stage." 
 
 He had intended to say much in reproach ; he 
 did not relent, but suddenly all the fire of his in- 
 dignation seemed spent. He was leaning heavily 
 on the chair, his tired eyes on the floor, his list- 
 less hands hanging before him. 
 
 She took one of them in hers : it lay unrespon- 
 sive in her clasp for a moment ; then he withdrew 
 it. 
 
 " I must get into the air I " he exclaimed, ab- 
 ruptly. 
 
 He went out without another word. 
 
 He walked far that night, at first irregularly, 
 spasmodically ; his heavy feet hardly dragging 
 along in obedience to his languid will ; his deadly 
 fatigue a trifle less potent than the torture of rest- 
 lessness that had taken possession of him. Grad- 
 ually the reserve force of his splendid physique 
 began to assert itself; his step grew more firm 
 and rapid ; he made his way doggedly through 
 the thickly falling snow, which stung cruelly as it 
 fell, for a blizzard was blowing. And from the 
 vague haze of his mental processes consecutive 
 thought came to him, dreary thinking. He 
 went back over many years of toilsome endeavor 
 and patient purpose. It had been hard to com- 
 pass his present place; he had expected to go
 
 340 FELICIA. 
 
 much further ; he* had felt that the end justified 
 every labor and relinquish tnent. If it were in- 
 deed ungenteel, according to superficial standards, 
 what did that matter? Little points of spurious 
 worldly value were not to be considered. It was 
 his calling, for which he was fitted by the gift of 
 nature and half a lifetime of effort, a posses- 
 sion of intrinsic value, aesthetically and practi- 
 cally. 
 
 And now, what of the result, what of his 
 future ? 
 
 That he should retrace lost ground, bitterly 
 won ; retrieve his prestige ; recapture the favor 
 of the exacting public, easy to offend, hard to pro- 
 pitiate ; overcome the eager and insidious dispar- 
 agement which follows so close upon failure or 
 partial failure, and fatally difficult to confute 
 when the point at issue is anything so intangible 
 as purity of tone, pitch, quality, this was his 
 immediate future. And for the rest, his ulti- 
 mate future? In one brief moment to-night he had 
 been grieved by his wife's grief ; his heart had 
 been more cruelly stabbed by the affront of her 
 jealousy. Now these considerations were in the 
 background ; already they had taken their place 
 only as an element affecting the development of 
 his ambition and his capacities. So it was that he 
 asked himself what, if hampered by the influence 
 of an unhappy domestic life, was to be his future. 
 It was to enter into a race handicapped ; to essay 
 to soar with clipped wings ; to drag down to
 
 FELICIA. 341 
 
 the plane of mechanical, unlighted drudgery the 
 delicate and ethereal achievements of inspiration 
 and talent, and a most artistic school. It was to 
 convert his life's ambitious into a life's failure, 
 not tame, inconspicuous failure, but public, 
 absolute, ludicrous, pitiable, egregious.
 
 xvn. 
 
 ONE of the distinctive qualities of a woman's 
 grief is its possibility of duality. During Ken- 
 nett's absence at the theatre, Felicia, reviewing 
 the scene between them, feeling vicariously all 
 that he had felt, the pain, the repulsion, the amaze- 
 ment, the shocked realization, was also acutely 
 conscious that he had not uttered one word of 
 vindication, of denial. She endured for him as 
 well as for herself : the poignancy of his wounded 
 pride and affection as a humiliated and insulted 
 man ; her doubts and despair as a wretched and 
 jealous woman. 
 
 And when he returned, instead of the re- 
 proaches she feared, the reconciliation she hoped, 
 he told her of his failure. That seemed a minor 
 matter until she noted the change in his face. 
 The expressions he had formerly worn were as 
 foreign to it now as if that other happier, more 
 fortunate entity he once was had been the inhab- 
 itant of another planet. Sharp care had regis- 
 tered itself in strong, definite lines between his 
 brows and about his mouth ; the muscles of his 
 face seemed to have relaxed ; it was strangely 
 heavy, inert ; beneath his eyes was that indescrib- 
 able yet unmistakable imprint left by a stupen-
 
 FELICIA. 343 
 
 dous nervous shock. His expression was as if he 
 had received a mortal blow. 
 
 She heard, with a sort of anguished incredulity, 
 slowly resolving itself into dismayed realization, 
 those bitter words of his which imputed to her 
 the responsibility of his failure. And she had 
 done this thing ? Was it through her that this 
 calamity had come upon him ? 
 
 It was like murder, she said to herself, in her 
 terror and abasement and tumult of anxiety, to 
 interfere with a man's life-work, to obliterate his 
 ambitions, to frustrate his achievement, to be the 
 cause, direct or remote, which brought him to a 
 crisis affecting him like this. 
 
 And when he again left her suddenly, declar- 
 ing that he must get out into the air, she had 
 these thoughts for company. Her grievances, 
 her disappointments, even her doubts of him, were 
 far from her now. Had she done a cruel thing ? 
 Was it irreparable ? Had the elements which 
 had been at work in her character during the last 
 year ' since, in fact, she had, with her eyes open 
 and aware of her peril, dared the conventionalities 
 and married him been in insidious and deadly 
 conflict with the only possibilities which made life 
 of value to him? She had been afraid of her 
 marriage for her own sake, what if it had 
 
 O ' 
 
 ruined him ? She had attempted to conserve all 
 that she deemed of value, what if she had 
 wrested from him all that he deemed of value? 
 Their ideals were as far asunder as the poles.
 
 344 FELICIA. 
 
 Had she arrogated to herself the office of judge 
 as to which should survive ? 
 
 As to that other responsibility which she had 
 assumed toward this art of his, her thoughts lin- 
 gered vaguely about the theory which was to him 
 so real a fact, that the development of certain 
 tendencies in art is a great power in intellectual 
 growth. Had she interfered to rob the world of 
 some subtle, far-reaching possibility of achieve- 
 ment which might have ennobled and sanctified 
 other minds and ambitions in a sordid age, sorely 
 in need of eyes that lift themselves to the stars ? 
 The world ? Well, with her limitations, it was 
 hardly within her horizon to comprehend what is 
 meant in saying that the world should be robbed. 
 But since it was he who so tensely held his eager 
 ambition to bestow upon it his " great future," 
 she might seek to realize what throes were his in 
 relinquishment, what desolation for love of the 
 thing itself. 
 
 And now the woman whose heart ached for him 
 must endure with what fortitude she might the 
 knowledge that in his hour of disaster it was his 
 impulse to escape from her, and be alone with the 
 winter wind and his griefs. 
 
 The wind was high. She could see through 
 the window that it was sweeping across the sky 
 vast masses of black clouds that held cavernous 
 depths, defined sometimes by illusive pallid 
 gleams and mysterious swirls and rifts ; strange 
 of contour, suggesting the volcanoes and moun
 
 FELICIA. 345 
 
 tains and gigantic remnants of continents that ap- 
 pertain to some burnt-out world, still obeying the 
 great uncomprehended law which set it in motion 
 and sent it revolving through space. The snow 
 had ceased to fall. Once was visible for a mo- 
 ment a dim, veiled moon, with a yellow aureola 
 about it. The chaos of black vapor was bathed 
 in a pale radiance ; and suddenly it had vanished, 
 save for fugitive flecks of white light that gleamed 
 a moment longer, then one by one were gone. 
 And ever the strong wind, with its sense of resist- 
 less motion, and the inexplicable suggestion of 
 impending calamity which comes with the impla- 
 cable rising and falling of that mighty voice, swept 
 along the sky, and over the vast plains of the 
 prairies, and through the corridor-like streets *oi 
 the city. 
 
 Kennett came at last, with a heavy tread. 
 There was deadly fatigue in his face. He spoke 
 in a stern voice. 
 
 " If you want to ruin me, now is your chance," 
 he said. " It is necessary that I sleep ; so only 
 talk to me with excitement, and the game is up." 
 
 It is one of the tragic elements of intense feel- 
 ing that it can make no compact with policy. 
 The faculty to cajole, to palliate, to deplore, to 
 predict good fortune for next week, for to-mor- 
 row ; assuming the guise of partisanship, to re- 
 sent calamity as an affront, this adroit manage- 
 ment in arrogating the office and functions of ally 
 is a most potent factor in the art of consolation.
 
 346 FELICIA. 
 
 Perhaps it is to much to assert that this is possi- 
 ble only when sympathy is lukewarm, but cer- 
 tainly the heart that feels another's disaster as a 
 supreme calamity prompts few pat phrases. And 
 these same pat phrases, how welcome, how 
 healing, how indispensable ! Kennett, strong as 
 he thought himself, expected them, longed for 
 them, felt that he could not exist without them. 
 He glanced wistfully his inconsistent bitter 
 words still vibrating on the air at her face ; 
 white it was, and tense. In the utter collapse of 
 his powers, he could only feel indefinitely that it 
 held deep meanings ; he could not now compre- 
 hend the expression in her eyes, as she lifted them 
 mutely to him. 
 
 He sighed heavily as he walked across the 
 room. " I don't want to be waked till the last 
 moment before rehearsal, to-morrow," he said. 
 
 For all her alertness of interpretation in the 
 trivial crises of life, she did not understand the 
 feeling underlying his words and his stern, al- 
 most cruel tone ; she, who had so many tactful 
 devices at command when nothing was at stake, 
 was helpless now, her facilities paralyzed in the 
 realization that a calamity had through her come 
 upon him, and in the thought of his anger. 
 Long after he had fallen into a sleep so profound 
 that he seemed to have passed into the vague 
 border lands that lie between life and death, she 
 still sat motionless, staring with a white face out 
 of the window at the dark, tempestuous night.
 
 FELICIA. 847 
 
 striving to definitely realize what had happened 
 in all its relations to his life and to hers. 
 
 By degrees the wind sank ; the clouds broke 
 slowly apart ; stars looked through the rifts, icy 
 and aloof ; the pale gibbous moon stole into view, 
 sending long shafts of spectral light into the room. 
 
 After all, does much of our woe come about 
 because we have no mental system of appraise- 
 ment ? If we had such a formula, simplest of 
 processes, if, for instance, we should definitely 
 consider as a set-off against possible bliss, valued, 
 let us say, at 90, the joy actually in possession, 
 should we not write against it also 90, even 100 ? 
 In its deep subconsciousness, overswept by the 
 turbulent, superficial emotions of daily life, does 
 the soul distinctly realize its possession, while 
 lighter values drift along lighter currents, or 
 gleam prismatic on the surface ? And is it these 
 which, in our careless habit of thought and speech, 
 we call precious ? 
 
 She had often said to herself in the past year 
 that life was worthless without appropriateness, 
 dignity, embellishment. It had not occurred to 
 her to weigh against these potent forces that 
 strong element which had come to be a part of 
 her very existence, until she feared that its pos- 
 session was threatened. Now, so distinctly did it 
 assert itself in this vigil of hers that all artificiali- 
 ties were as if annihilated, and the terror of losing 
 her hold upon her husband's heart was even of 
 more moment than the terror of menace to him.
 
 848 FELICIA. 
 
 The theory that she was losing her hold upon 
 his heart received, apparently, the next morning, 
 the fatal corroboration of accident. He carue 
 back from rehearsal gloomy, absorbed, with no 
 words of greeting for her as he entered. He 
 stood silent before the fire for some moments, 
 then suddenly crossed the room and seated him- 
 self at the piano. 
 
 She summoned her composure. She made a 
 strong effort to overcome the timidity and anxiety 
 that had taken possession of her. She too crossed 
 the room, ami stood beside him. She placed her 
 hand on his shoulder. But her hand was trem- 
 bling ; her face was pale ; tears were in her eyes. 
 
 He glanced up, with a palpable shrinking. He 
 feared her, she said to herself, that was evi- 
 dent. He thought she was on the verge of an- 
 other scene ; he deemed her a weak, hysterical, 
 jealous creature, ready for wild criminations and 
 ecstatic reconciliations, which would tear his 
 nerves and exhaust his strength when he most 
 needed the full mastery of his faculties. Yes, it 
 was evident. He feared her. 
 
 The thought controlled her. She stood motion- 
 less for some moments ; then, after a few casual 
 words when she could trust her voice, she turned 
 away. His face expressed relief, she could not 
 mistake it, and she could only say to herself 
 again and again that he feared her ; he could 
 hardly look at her ; he dreaded that she should 
 even speak to him.
 
 FELICIA. 349 
 
 As the long day wore on she became an adept 
 in self-torture. She believed that her reproaches 
 and exactions had borne fruit in his indifference, 
 even his aversion. Her sense of justice was 
 paralyzed ; she no longer recollected that she 
 too had been severely tried ; she only saw the 
 years stretching before her in which she would 
 slip further and further out of his life, and be- 
 come, indeed, only its unlucky incident, with 
 which it might well have dispensed. In her de- 
 spair she humbly kept in the background, that she 
 might not in an unguarded moment say some- 
 thing which would agitate him and again place 
 him at a disadvantage. 
 
 He was silent and absorbed throughout the 
 afternoon. His manner was evidently unstudied, 
 unintentional ; it was not designed as punish- 
 ment, to mark his displeasure because of that ill- 
 timed outbreak of hers ; it was not the luxury of 
 wreaking on another something of his own suffer- 
 ing. He gave her little thought, that was the 
 simple explanation. With his somewhat blunt 
 perception of actual in contrast with imaginary 
 emotion, he did not compass the tumult of feeling 
 in which she was involved. He considered her 
 not at all ; he remembered only his own troubles, 
 that this was a determining crisis in his career. 
 
 But as he was about to leave the room for the 
 theatre he turned back suddenly. It was only an 
 impulse. He had noticed nothing of the white 
 despair in her face, so absorbed was he, and so
 
 350 FELICIA. 
 
 still a presence had she become. He took her in 
 his arms and looked into her eyes. His own were 
 still anxious and haggard. His very soul seemed 
 to gaze from them. Under that long, tender 
 look her heart began to beat heavily ; the slow 
 tears welled up. He kissed her as he turned 
 away. " Good-by, dear," he said. 
 
 It was only an impulse. It was not because he 
 forgave her ; he had forgotten that he had some- 
 thing to forgive, he loved her much. It was 
 not a plea that she should forgive his reproaches 
 last night ; these too he had forgotten, he knew 
 she loved him much. 
 
 For her it was a benignant impulse ; it gave 
 her back, as it were, to life. The throbbing of 
 her heart and her tumultuous rising tears seemed 
 to pulverize and wash away the heavy, numbing, 
 poignant pain she had endured. 
 
 As he opened the door and started out of the 
 room, he turned again and closed it. 
 
 " Surely, surely," he said, in the insistent tone 
 of one who would fain constrain what he desires 
 to believe, " my voice must be all right now." 
 
 He drew himself up, inflated his lungs, and 
 began to sing. The opening phrases of the un- 
 lucky solo which had come to grief rose in smooth, 
 mellow resonance, delicately accurate in pitch 
 and modulation, indescribably rich and effective 
 in quality. The anxiety and intentness on his 
 face faded ; he drew a long sigh of relief, looked at 
 her with a half smile, and was gone.
 
 FELICIA. 351 
 
 He loved much, too, what he called his art. 
 
 "Art " is a word of elastic significations. Just 
 now all its vast systems of science and presenta- 
 tion, its potentialities, its ramifications, its possi- 
 bilities, were merged into the personation that 
 night of Prince Roderic. 
 
 His Highness was her rival, with his powder, 
 and his paint, and his curls ; with his attitudiniz- 
 ing and his triumphs of facial expression ; with 
 his robust metrical defiances and his languishing 
 love ditties, he and such as he. 
 
 And her only rival ? 
 
 She was sure of that now, because, she said to 
 herself with conviction, his eyes could not look 
 into hers with truth in them while his heart held 
 a lie. Her doubts had not been very logical ; 
 perhaps her reasoning now was as inconsequent, 
 but to her it was certainty, and it sufficed. 
 
 As she sat alone that night, she had no previ- 
 sion of the fate coming so fast. Her reaching 
 thought, that would fain have pierced the future 
 and foreseen its promise, and in anticipating its 
 menaces annulled them, lifted no fold of the veil 
 which hid the next hour. When she roused her- 
 self, it was with the realization of an unusual 
 commotion on the street. Then a heavy rattling 
 invaded the air, and the sharp strokes of a gong 
 rang out peremptorily. She drew up the shade, 
 opened the window, and looked out. 
 
 A strong wind was blowing ; the night was bit- 
 terly cold. The stars glinted frostily above the
 
 352 FELICIA. 
 
 snow-covered roofs. There was a deep red glow 
 against the horizon, extending to the zenith ; it 
 was strong enough to pale the lamps, and cast a 
 roseate light along the faQade of the buildings 
 that lined the street. A number of men on the 
 pavement below were hurrying in that direction ; 
 several had stopped, and were speaking excitedly 
 to others. 
 
 It was a strange thing for her to do, she was 
 not consciously alarmed, a fire was such a usual 
 incident, but, obeying some imperative inward 
 demand, she leaned out of the window and called 
 to them. 
 
 " Where is the fire ? " she asked. 
 
 They looked np as her silvery tones split the 
 air suddenly. Then the answer floated to her : 
 
 " The Opera House is burning." 
 
 For one instant they thought she was about to 
 throw herself from the window, she swayed so vio- 
 lently forward. The next moment she was run- 
 ning along the dimly lighted hall, down the stairs, 
 and out into the street. 
 
 Strangely enough, she was not conscious of 
 terror, she was only unnaturally conscious of 
 the external conditions : that more snow had 
 fallen ; that the pavements were covered ; that 
 the hurrying crowd of excited men was constantly 
 increasing ; that the sullen red glare was intensi- 
 fied ; that another engine, and then a hose car- 
 riage, sharply turned a corner as she was about to 
 cross the street. She was caught by strong hands
 
 FELICIA. 353 
 
 and held in a firm grasp, as she would have 
 dashed in front of the madly plunging horses ; 
 the driver's loud, hoarse cries of warning and 
 anger resounded above the unceasing clamor of 
 the gong. Then they had passed, and she 
 wrested her arm from the detaining hands and 
 hurried on. And now in the crowd were gentle- 
 men, with wild eyes and white faces, hatless, their 
 gala attire crushed and torn. And soon she was 
 meeting women as well, frantically agitated, many 
 screaming piteously. And always the crowd was 
 denser, until it was difficult, even with all her 
 faculties preternaturally alert, to edge her way 
 through it. When at last she turned a certain 
 corner, the scene revealed might have been Pan- 
 demonium. 
 
 From the roof and windows of the great building 
 flames were shooting, red and deeply orange, 
 sometimes veined with purple gleams, and again 
 shading into amethystine banners that waved fan- 
 tastically. Where streams of water were thrown, 
 columns of steam and of black smoke ascended, 
 and through them played fiery jets of sparks, 
 that floated high into the air, and traveled far on 
 the wings of the wind. That bitter north wind 
 had already done strange, effective work. Gigan- 
 tic icicles, growing momently more massive under 
 its arctic influence, hung, glittering and splendid, 
 from every projection on which the streams of 
 water chanced to fall. The firemen were encased 
 in gleaming icy mail that rattled with a loud sound.
 
 354 FELICIA. 
 
 As they appeared for an instant within the glassy 
 arches surrounding the windows, or moved about 
 on the roof, the red light, falling upon their spark- 
 ling vesture and their ice-covered hair and beards, 
 was reflected back with prismatic gleams. Sud- 
 denly, a loud, peremptory command rang out, and 
 a moment later, above the roar of the flames, 
 and the heavy panting of the engines, and the 
 continuous swash of the water, there arose a long, 
 loud, hideous crash, as a portion of the eastern 
 wall gave way. 
 
 Felicia was swept with the retreating crowd 
 out of the rain of cinders that drifted downward. 
 Mechanically she dashed the burning fragments 
 from her hair, her hands, her face ; then, as she 
 looked up, she stood as if turned to stone. 
 
 Many other eyes were fixed on Kennett. Never 
 had drama more effective stage - setting ; never 
 had actor more intent audience. In the back- 
 ground, high above the high roofs of the building, 
 rolled dense clouds of black smoke, permeated 
 through and through with upward-drifting sparks, 
 and elusive scarlet and orange plumes of flame 
 that capriciously waved, and shot swiftly out, and 
 vanished, to flare anew on a higher level of the 
 cloud. 
 
 When he had sprung suddenly upon the roof, 
 it was as if he had emerged from that chaos of fire 
 and smoke. He stood for a moment gazing about 
 him ; then he walked to the edge of the building. 
 At that great height he seemed to move with con-
 
 FELICIA. 355 
 
 summate grace and lightness. He was dressed in 
 the costume he wore in the last act of Prince Rod- 
 eric. The blue and silver vividly accented his 
 figure against the darkly rolling clouds. He 
 stood motionless, looking at the sea of upturned 
 faces ; at the building across the alley ; at the 
 fiery gulf into which the eastern wall had fallen ; 
 at the firemen on the lower roofs of the building, 
 separated from him by that maelstrom of flames ; 
 at those other flames, each moment fiercer, more 
 implacable, more assertive, shooting out of the 
 windows below him ; then he looked again at 
 the mass of human beings on the streets. There 
 rose to him incoherent murmurs, breaking into 
 frantic exclamations. The intense terror, inhe- 
 rent in human nature, of that most frightful 
 fate, death by fire, manifested itself in quick, wild 
 cries, uttered by men ordinarily sane enough, of 
 insistence that he should jump. Then in a breath 
 came counter cries, " Wait ! " " Wait ! " 
 then loud calls for the hook and ladder com- 
 panies, then assertions that there was no time to 
 wait ; and again desperate injunctions to jump 
 rose into a loud chorus inexpressibly shattering to 
 the nerves in its quality of uncontrollable terror. 
 
 Presently he turned slowly, and retraced his 
 steps toward the scuttle. Already the space along 
 the flat roof was greatly lessened ; fire and smoke 
 were bursting out in many places. 
 
 There was a pause of uncertainty and specula- 
 tion. Would he try to go down the stairs, in the
 
 356 FELICIA. 
 
 hope of finding egress through some door or win- 
 dow not yet essayed ? Such an effort was mani- 
 festly futile. 
 
 In another moment it was apparent that his in- 
 tention was to leap across the alley and reach the 
 opposite building, an achievement barely within 
 the limits of possibility. 
 
 He stooped and tightened the straps that bound 
 his light sandals about his feet. Then he placed 
 his hands upon his hips, and ran so swiftly, so 
 lightly, so elastic-ally, that the effect was as if he 
 were miraculously destitute of weight. It was an 
 infinitesimal interval of time before he reached 
 the edge of the roof. He threw his hands in 
 front of him as he leaped and launched himself 
 into mid-air. For one second the swift figure 
 a gleam of white and blue and silver was visi- 
 ble in transit across the sheer space between the 
 two buildings ; and for that wild instant the real- 
 ization of the deadly danger was annulled in the 
 exultant sense of the stupendous achievement. 
 How high he was, how light, how strong ! Inex- 
 orable physical laws, how airily he waved them 
 away ! And did he leap or fly ! 
 
 In one second more a huge dun-colored cloud 
 of smoke, with its fiery embroidery of sparks, 
 drifted down and hid him from view. There had 
 been tense silence until this instant ; now arose a 
 clamor of ejaculations and eager questions. Had 
 he made it? Had he missed it? Had he fallen? 
 And " Ah, God help him ! " cried many.
 
 FELICIA. 357 
 
 A moment later they saw what had happened. 
 
 At the foot of the wall lay a mass of blue and 
 silver, blood-stained and contorted, and a face and 
 figure mutilated past recognition. There was a 
 quiver of unrealized agonies, and then problems 
 solved? ideals attained in higher fruition than the 
 paltry human mind conceives? values estimated 
 with the clear cognition of the immortals? What 
 strange, wise presence, set free in one tremendous 
 moment, went forth into the darkness ! 
 
 The events of that night wrought radical 
 changes where Kennett had been closely concerned. 
 Judge Hamilton discovered he held the opinion 
 that a tragedy can dignify even an absurd situa- 
 tion, and that, under the circumstances, it was not 
 unseemly for him to forgive his daughter. He 
 took her home with him shortly, and thus she was 
 restored to the appropriateness, the dignities, the 
 embellishments, of life. These were not of so 
 much worth to her as once they had been. 
 
 Does it take the mighty problems of life and 
 death to elucidate the lesser problems of relative 
 values? Can we discriminate fairly as to rela- 
 tive values when vast and complicated forces, ex- 
 traneous conditions in unnumbered combinations, 
 inherited tendencies, the tyranny of tradition, the 
 tyranny of training, the implacable, exacting hu- 
 man heart, are elements of the problem ? 
 
 Is the artificial entity which we labor to endow 
 with strong and subtle qualities, which we ambi-
 
 358 FELICIA. 
 
 tiously call Character, and which we bestow on 
 our inmost selves, saying, " Soul, this is thy twin. 
 Walk hand in hand through life," is it, after 
 all, the stronger, more subtle, more uncontrolla- 
 ble, of the two ? May it not prove even antago- 
 nistic, and in the end destroy its dedicated com- 
 panion ? 
 
 This chronicler is no QEdipus to solve these rid- 
 dles.
 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.
 
 3 1158 00959 7492 
 
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