An Original Belle

by Edward Payson Roe

  MARIAN VOSBURGH had been content with her recognized positionas a leading belle. An evening spent in her drawing-room revealedthat; but at the close of the particular evening which it was ourprivilege to select there occurred a trivial incident. She was ledto think, and thought is the precursor of action and change in allnatures too strong and positive to drift. On that night she wasan ordinary belle, smiling, radiant, and happy in following thetraditions of her past.

  She had been admired as a child, as a school-girl, and given aplace among the stars of the first magnitude since her formal debut.Admiration was as essential as sunshine; or, to change the figure,she had a large and a natural and healthful appetite for it. She wasalso quite as much entitled to it as the majority of her class.Thus far she had accepted life as she found it, and was in themain conventional. She was not a deliberate coquette; it was nother recognized purpose to give a heartache to as many as possible;she merely enjoyed in thoughtless exultation her power to attractyoung men to her side. There was keen excitement in watching them,from the moment of introduction, as they passed through the phasesof formal acquaintanceship into relations that bordered on sentiment.When this point was reached experiences sometimes followed whichcaused not a little compunction.

  She soon learned that society was full of men much like herself insome respects, ready to meet new faces, to use their old complimentsand flirtation methods over and over again. They could look unutterablethings at half a dozen different girls in the same season, whiletheir hearts remained as invulnerable as old-fashioned pin-cushions,heart-shaped, that adorn country "spare rooms." But now and thena man endowed with a deep, strong nature would finally leave herside in troubled wonder or bitter cynicism. Her fair, young face,her violet eyes, so dark as to appear almost black at night, hadgiven no token that she could amuse herself with feelings thattouched the sources of life and death in such admirers.

  "They should have known better, that I was not in earnest," shewould say, petulantly, and more or less remorsefully.

  But these sincere men, who had been so blind as to credit her withgentle truth and natural intuition, had some ideal of womanhoodwhich had led to their blunder. Conscious of revealing so muchthemselves by look, tone, and touch of hand, eager to supplementone significant glance by life-long loyalty, they were slow inunderstanding that answering significant glances meant only, "Ilike you very well,--better than others, just at present; but thenI may meet some one to-morrow who is a great deal more fun thanyou are."

  Fun! With them it was a question of manhood, of life, and ofthat which gives the highest value and incentive to life. It wasinevitable, therefore, that Marian Vosburgh should become a mirageto more than one man; and when at last the delusion vanished, therewas usually a flinty desert to be crossed before the right, safepath was gained.

  From year to year Mr. Vosburgh had rented for his summer residencea pretty cottage on the banks of the Hudson. The region aboundedin natural beauty and stately homes. There was an infusion ofKnickerbocker blood in the pre-eminently elect ones of society, andfrom these there was a gradual shading off in several directions,until by some unwritten law the social line was drawn. Strangersfrom the city might be received within the inner circle, or theymight not, as some of the leaders practically decreed by theirown action. Mr. Vosburgh did not care in the least for the circleor its constituents. He was a stern, quiet man; one of the strongexecutive hands of the government at a time when the vital questionsof the day had come to the arbitrament of the sword. His callinginvolved danger, and required an iron will. The questions whichchiefly occupied his mind were argued by the mouths of cannon.

  As for Marian, she too cared little for the circle and its socialdignitaries. She had no concessions to make, no court to pay.She was not a dignitary, but a sovereign, and had her own court.Gentleman friends from the city made their headquarters at aneighboring summer hotel; young men from the vicinity were attractedlike moths, and the worst their aristocratic sisters could sayagainst the girl was that she had too many male friends, and wasnot "of their set." Indeed, with little effort she could have wonrecognition from the bluest blood of the vicinage; but this was nother ambition. She cared little for the ladies of her neighborhood,and less for their ancestors, while she saw as much of the gentlemenas she desired. She had her intimates among her own sex, however,and was on the best terms with her good-natured, good-hearted,but rather superficial mother, who was a discreet, yet indulgentchaperon, proud of her daughter and of the attention she received,while scarcely able to comprehend that any serious trouble couldresult from it if the proprieties of life were complied with.Marian was never permitted to give that kind of encouragementwhich compromises a girl, and Mrs. Vosburgh felt that there herduty ceased. All that could be conveyed by the eloquent eye, theinflection of tones, and in a thousand other ways, was unnoted,and beyond her province.

  The evening of our choice is an early one in June. The air isslightly chilly and damp, therefore the parlor is preferable tothe vine-sheltered piazza, screened by the first tender foliage.We can thus observe Miss Vosburgh's deportment more closely, andtake a brief note of her callers.

  Mr. Lane is the first to arrive, perhaps for the reason that he isa downright suitor, who has left the city and business, in orderto further the interests nearest his heart. He is a keen-eyed,strong-looking fellow, well equipped for success by knowledge ofthe world and society; resolute, also, in attaining his desiredends. His attentions to Marian have been unmistakable for somemonths, and he believes that he has received encouragement. Intruth, he has been the recipient of the delusive regard that she isin the habit of bestowing. He is one whom she could scarcely failto admire and like, so entertaining is he in conversation, andendowed with such vitality and feeling that his words are not airynothings.

  He greets her with a strong pressure of the hand, and his firstglance reveals her power.

  "Why, this is an agreeable surprise, Mr. Lane," she exclaims.

  "Agreeable? I am very glad to hear that," he says, in his customarydirect speech. "Yes, I ran up from the city this afternoon. On myway to lunch I became aware of the beauty of the day, and as mythoughts persisted in going up the river I was led to follow them.One's life does not consist wholly of business, you know; at leastmine does not."

  "Yet you have the reputation of being a busy man."

  "I should hope so. What would you think of a young fellow not busyin these times?"

  "I am not sure I should think at all. You give us girls too muchcredit for thinking."

  "Oh, no; there's no occasion for the plural. I don't give 'us girls'anything. I am much too busy for that. But I know you think, MissMarian, and have capacity for thought."

  "Possibly you are right about the capacity. One likes to think onehas brains, you know, whether she uses them or not. I don't thinkvery much, however,--that is, as you use the word, for it impliesthe putting of one's mind on something and keeping it there. I liketo let thoughts come and go as the clouds do in our June skies. Idon't mean thunder-clouds and all they signify, but light vaporsthat have scarcely beginning or end, and no very definite being.I don't seem to have time or inclination for anything else, exceptwhen I meet you with your positive ways. I think it is very kindof you to come from New York to give me a pleasant evening."

  "I'm not so very disinterested. New York has become a dull place,and if I aid you to pass a pleasant evening you insure a pleasanterone for me. What have you been doing this long June day, that youhave been too busy for thought?"

  "Let me see. What have I been doing? What an uncomfortable questionto ask a girl! You men say we are nothing but butterflies, youknow."

  "I never said that of you."

  "You ask a question which makes me say it virtually of myself. Thatis a way you keen lawyers have. Very well; I shall be an honestwitness, even against myself. That I wasn't up with the lark thismorning goes without saying. The larks that I know much about areon the wing after dinner in the evening. The forenoon is a variablesort of affair w
ith many people. Literally I suppose it ends at 12M., but with me it is rounded off by lunch, and the time of thatevent depends largely upon the kitchen divinity that we can lure tothis remote and desolate region. 'Faix,' remarked that potentate,sniffing around disdainfully the day we arrived, 'does yez expectsthe loikes o' me to stop in this lonesomeness? We're jist at theind of the wourld.' Mamma increased her wages, which were alreadydouble what she earns, and she still condescends to provide ourdaily food, giving me a forenoon which closes at her convenience.During this indefinite period I look after my flowers and birds,sing and play a little, read a little, entertain a little, and thusreveal to you a general littleness. In the afternoon I take a nap,so that I may be wide awake enough to talk to a bright man likeyou in case he should appear. Now, are you not shocked and painedat my frivolous life?"

  "You have come to the country for rest and recuperation, MissMarian?"

  "Oh, what a word,--'recuperation!' It never entered my head thatI had come into the country for that. Do I suggest a crying needfor recuperation?"

  "I wouldn't dare tell you all that you suggest to me, and I readmore than you say between your lines. When I approached the houseyou were chatting and laughing genially with your mother."

  "Oh, yes, mamma and I have as jolly times together as two girls."

  "That was evident, and it made a very pleasant impression on me.One thing is not so evident, and it indicates a rather one-sidedcondition of affairs. I could not prevent my thoughts from visitingyou often to-day before I came myself, but I fear that among yourJune-day occupations there has not been one thought of me."

  She had only time to say, sotto voce, "Girls don't tell everything,"when the maid announced, from the door, "Mr. Strahan."

  This second comer was a young man precociously mature after acertain style. His home was a fine old place in the vicinity, butin his appearance there was no suggestion of the country; nor didhe resemble the violet, although he was somewhat redolent of theextract of that modest flower. He was dressed in the extreme ofthe prevailing mode, and evidently cultivated a metropolitan air,rather than the unobtrusive bearing of one who is so thoroughly agentleman that he can afford to be himself. Mr. Strahan was quitesure of his welcome, for he felt that he brought to the littlecottage a genuine Madison-avenue atmosphere. He was greeted withthe cordiality which made Miss Vosburgh's drawing-room one of thepleasantest of lounging-places, whether in town or country; andunder his voluble lead conversation took the character of fashionablegossip, which would have for the reader as much interest asthe presentation of some of the ephemeral weeds of that period.But Mr. Strahan's blue eyes were really animated as he venturedperilously near a recent scandal in high life. His budget of newswas interspersed with compliments to his hostess, which, like theextract on his handkerchief, were too pronounced. Mr. Lane regardedhim with politely veiled disgust, but was too well-bred not tosecond Miss Vosburgh's remarks to the best of his ability.

  Before long two or three more visitors dropped in. One from the hotelwas a millionnaire, a widower leisurely engaged in the selection ofa second wife. Another was a young artist sketching in the vicinity.A third was an officer from West Point who knew Mr. Vosburgh.There were also callers from the neighborhood during the evening.Mrs. Vosburgh made her appearance early, and was almost as skilfula hostess as her daughter. But few of the guests remained long.They had merely come to enjoy a pleasant half-hour or more undercircumstances eminently agreeable, and would then drive on and payone or two visits in the vicinity. That was the way in which nearlyall Marian's "friendships" began.

  The little parlor resounded with animated talk, laughter, and music,that was at the same time as refined as informal. Mrs. Vosburghwould seat herself at the piano, that a new dancing-step or a newsong might be tried. The gentlemen were at liberty to light theircigars and form groups among themselves, so free from stiffnesswas Marian's little salon. Brief time elapsed, however, without aword to each, in her merry, girlish voice, for she had the instinctsof a successful hostess, and a good-natured sense of honor, whichmade her feel that each guest was entitled to attention. She wasnot much given to satire, and the young men soon learned that shewould say more briery things to their faces than behind their backs.It was also discovered that ill-natured remarks about callers whohad just departed were not tolerated,--that within certain limitsshe was loyal to her friends, and that, she was too high-minded tospeak unhandsomely of one whom she had just greeted cordially. Ifshe did not like a man she speedily froze him out of the ranks ofher acquaintance; but for such action there was not often occasion,since she and her mother had a broad, easy tolerance of thosegenerally accepted by society. Even such as left her parlor finallywith wounds for which there was no rapid healing knew that no onewould resent a jest at their expense more promptly than the girlwhom they might justly blame for having smiled too kindly.

  Thus she remained a general favorite. It was recognized that she hada certain kind of loyalty which could be depended upon. Of coursesuch a girl would eventually marry, and with natural hope andegotism each one felt that he might be the successful competitor.At any rate, as in war, they must take their chances, and it seemsthat there is never a lack of those willing to assume such risks.

  Thus far, however, Marian had no inclination to give up her presentlife of variety and excitement. She preferred incense from manyworshippers to the devotion of one. The secret of this was perhapsthat her heart had remained so untouched and unconscious that shescarcely knew she had one. She understood the widower's preference,enjoyed the compliment, and should there be occasion would, inperfect good taste, beg to be excused.

  Her pulse was a little quickened by Mr. Lane's downright earnestness,and when matters should come to a crisis she would say lovelythings to him of her esteem, respect, regret, etc. She would wishthey might remain friends--why could they not, when she liked himso much? As for love and engagement, she did not, could not, thinkof that yet.

  She was skilful, too, in deferring such crises, and to-night, inobedience to a signal, Mrs. Vosburgh remained until even Mr. Lanedespaired of another word in private, and departed, fearing to puthis fate to the test.

  At last the dainty apartment, the merry campaigning-ground, wasdarkened, and Marian, flushed, wearied, and complacent, steppedout on the piazza to breathe for a few moments the cool, fragrantair. She had dropped into a rustic seat, and was thinking overthe events of the evening with an amused smile, when the followingstartling words arose from the adjacent shrubbery:--

  "Arrah, noo, will ye niver be sinsible? Here I'm offerin' ye meheart, me loife. I'd be glad to wourk for ye, and kape ye loike aleddy. I'd be thrue to ye ivery day o' me loife,--an' ye knows it,but ye jist goes on makin' eyes at this wan an' flirtin' wid thatwan an' spakin' swate to the t'other, an' kapin' all on the stringtill they can nayther ate nor slape nor be half the min they weretill ye bewildered 'em. Ye're nothin' but a giddy, light-minded,shallow crather, a spoilin' min for your own fun. I've kep' companywid ye a year, and ye've jist blowed hot and cowld till I'm notmeself any more, and have come nigh losin' me place. Noo, by St.Patrick, ye must show whether ye're a woman or a heartless jadethat will sind a man to the divil for sport."

  These words were poured out with the impetuosity of longsufferingendurance finally vanquished, and before the speaker had concludedMarian was on her way to the door, that she might not listen to aconversation of so delicate a nature. But she did not pass beyondhearing before part of the reply reached her.

  "Faix, an' I'm no wourse than me young mistress."

  It was a chance arrow, but it went straight to the mark, aad whenMarian reached her room her cheeks were aflame.

  CHAPTER II.

  A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.