CHAPTER XXV
THE LOWRY-TURCK ENTANGLEMENT
The interesting story of "The Swiss Family Robertson" told and the usualcomment made, the Colonel, still beaming, turned to the Young Lady.
"Will you please tell us something?" he said.
And her reply to him was very simple and graceful;
"I can at least tell you about the 'Lowry-Turck Entanglement,' for I wasfamiliar with the circumstances." Then she continued:
THE LOWRY-TURCK ENTANGLEMENT
Apropos of the affair of Harvey Lowry and Angeline Turck, as alsoapropos of many other affairs of similar nature, it is very much to befeared that one of the proverbs is unreliable. "Necessity is the motherof invention" comes off the tongue glibly enough, but why "mother"? Whatrules the camp, the court, the grove, and what makes the world goaround? What but love, and is not Love, when personified, a male? Andhas he not been the cause of more inventions than have all otherscombined? Certainly it was he who suggested an invention of theLowry-Turck love affair. He is Necessity disguised; and he is not amother.
Of course Love need not grumble. He is no worse off than are otherfathers. If a boy becomes famous in the world the fact is attributed tohis noble mother; if he becomes infamous, the community says, "Likefather, like son"--which is hardly fair. Fathers are useful. Not onlydid every person who ever invented anything have a father, but withoutthe father romance would be robbed of one of its most useful andsteadfast figures. These remarks, prefacing a love story, may bedidactic and ponderous and prosy, but they are true.
It is true, as well, that, though this is a love story pure and simple,Mr. Turck, the father in the case, may, in a sense, be looked upon asamong the characters who belong to the world of romance, for he was thevery personification of one accepted type of parent in love stories,being perverse, tyrannical and hard-hearted, looking upon lovers as theranchman does on wolves, and resolved to keep his daughter to himselfindefinitely. He had a red face, tufts of side whiskers which grew outnearly at right angles, and a bellowing voice which would have made hisfortune as skipper of a sailing craft in noisy seas. It was, perhaps,such men as Mr. Turck who brought the father into disrepute before thefirst romance was written, and there is little doubt, too, that it hasbeen such daughters as Angeline Turck who have innocently aggravated thefather's already uncertain temper and thus made his name the byword ithas become--in fiction.
Angeline, at the time this affair began, was seventeen and completelysovereign over the heart of Harvey Lowry--to quote from one of the younggentleman's letters to the young lady herself. They had been in love sixmonths, according to Angeline's computation, seven, according to that ofHarvey; but naturally, he had been first to feel and feed the flame.Harvey, though successful in his suit, was not, in personal appearance,the ideal lover for a girl of Angeline's age--that is, he was not tall,nor dark, nor haughty of mien. On the contrary, he was short, fair andround-faced, and had a thoroughly business-like demeanor. He looked likea young man whose soul was all in the profit on a next shipment ofbarrel-hoops, or something, when, in truth, he had endless romanticfancies. In his sentiment lay his charm, and it was to this qualitythat, as she came to know him well, the fair Angeline had completelyyielded. There had been a declaration of love and no refusal, but as yetno formal engagement existed. That, it was mutually understood, mustcome later, the delay being attributable to certain obstacles of afinancial nature. Meanwhile the time passed most pleasantly. There weremeetings where Harvey said things calculated to touch the heart, andthere was much letter-writing. It was this last which wrecked theair-castle.
One evening when Angeline's parents were alone, Mr. Turck startled hiswife by demanding suddenly:
"What's that young Lowry coming here so much for? I don't like it!"
Mrs. Turck replied mildly that she supposed Mr. Lowry came chiefly tosee Angeline. She saw nothing very wrong in that. He was said to be asteady young man, and, of course, Angeline must have harmless companyoccasionally.
"I don't care whether he's steady or not. He's coming here too much.Don't tell me anything about 'harmless company!' He's after Angeline,and I won't have it! I'll look into this thing!" And Mr. Turck gaveutterance to a sound which may be indifferently described as adetermined snort. Mrs. Turck understood it, and looked for trouble ofsome sort in the near future. She had reason.
The evening before, Harvey, after leaving the house, had kissedAngeline's hand at the garden gate. It had been at this electricalmoment that Mr. Turck looked out of the sitting-room window, instead ofattending to his newspaper as he should have done, and noted the twoforms showing dimly through the gathering shade. He did not distinctlysee the kiss, but something in the movement was vaguely reminiscent tohim. His suspicions were aroused. He had called harshly to Angeline tocome in and go to her mother, and she had obeyed, while Harvey meltedaway into the summer night, after the manner of lovers who haveattracted the paternal eye. Neither of the two was much disturbed. Therewas a glow in the heart of each, a glow too deep to be affected by anominous word or two. Yet this episode had led to Mr. Turck's outbreakbefore his wife.
The first blow fell early. Before two more days had passed Mr. Turck hadbroken out at the breakfast table and had forbidden Angeline to have anyfurther relations of any sort with Harvey Lowry. She must not speak tohim. There were tears and quite a scene. Even the subdued Mrs. Turckventured to say a word, and asked what Angeline could do when meetingHarvey on the street? To this only the curt reply was given that "adignified bow" was enough. It was rather hard. The old gentleman did notknow it, his meek wife did not suspect it, and Angeline would never havebelieved it, but the truth is, if Angeline's life had depended on themaking of a dignified bow, it would have been short shrift for her. Itmust be regretfully admitted that in the village of Willow Bend the bow,as practiced by maids alike, was such a casual bob of the head asconveyed not the remotest conception of any dignity. It may have been afact that this Arcadian bob was subject to modification among theelders, but that does not matter. The father, looking upon Angeline'smeek face and recognizing the accustomed submission in his wife's eyes,felt that he had done a fit and becoming morning's work, and drank hiscoffee calmly, while Angeline trifled sadly with her spoon and lookeddumbly out of the nearest window.
That evening Lowry called, and was told by the servant maid who met himat the door that he could not enter. The young man understood wellenough that this was under Mr. Turck's direction, and went away lessdispirited than he might have been. The next day Mrs. Turck, who fearedto do otherwise, brought to the lord of the house a tinted piece offolded paper, which proved to be a letter from Harvey to the againsuspiciously rosy Angeline. This dangerous piece of Love's fighting gearhad been detected by Mrs. Turck's eagle eye among the trifles on herdaughter's work table. A charge direct, tears, expostulations,confession, and the delivery of the missive over to the enemy hadfollowed swiftly. The hair stood upon the paternal head in disapprovalas Mr. Turck held the pink letter between his thumb and forefinger andread it stridently aloud. After all, there was little in it to exciteeither anger or apprehension, for it was only an expression of hope thatthe writer could see Angeline that evening at a little party at thehome of a mutual friend, but, as with venomous insects, its sting was inits tail, for it was signed solely with these three letters: "I. L. Y."
Now, even Mr. Turck did not need to be told what the letters hedescribed as "those infamous characters" signified. The world knowsthem. His wife, too, flushed when he showed them to her, and then, foronce bridling a little at the "infamous," she reminded him that therewas a time when Mr. Turck himself, as a matter of custom and dailyhabit, wrote those very characters at the end of all his letters; but,though for a moment embarrassed by this allusion, the husband onlysniffed.
Angeline had a bad half hour over the "=I. L. Y.=," and the end wassubmission almost abject, for Mr. Turck would brook no half-waymeasures. The girl promised neither to write to nor read any lettersfrom the young man so disapproved. In a sha
rp communication from Mr.Turck, Harvey Lowry was made to know the unpopularity of his epistolaryefforts in the Turck household, and for a day or two apparently bowedhis head to the paternal will. But who may comprehend the ways of alover? One morning not a week after the "I. L. Y." affair, Mr. Turck sawanother suspicious-looking envelope in the bundle of letters he carriedhome from the post-office at luncheon time. He looked hard at Angeline'sface when she opened the letter at the table and noted there was anexpression of confusion and surprise. Without a word, he stretched outan authoritative hand, and, without a word, Angeline gave him the small,open sheet of heavy cream colored paper. This is what he saw, drawn withpen and ink, on the fair page: [Symbol: full]
Only that and nothing more.
It was now that Angeline's persecutions began in earnest. She wasquestioned, and threatened, and bullied, and coaxed, but she would nottell the meaning of those four lines drawn upon that virgin page, andsent to her in an envelope addressed in the handwriting of Harvey Lowry.In truth, the poor girl did not know, and could not guess, what thething meant, herself. Denial tears, supplication--all were of no avail.Mr. Turck would not believe his daughter. He held the drawing upsidedown, sideways, and then almost horizontal, as one does in reading wherethe letters are purposely made tall and thin, but he could make nothingof it, and raged the more at his incompetence. "It looks a little like aside plan of a room," he muttered to himself, "but it isn't complete.Have the fools arranged to run away and are they planning a housealready?" The idea was too much for him. He seized his hat and wentforth for advice.
Mr. Turck was in the office of Baldison, a contractor and builder,within five minutes. "Here, Baldison," he bellowed as he came in, "whatis this? Is it part of a plan of a house, or, if not, what is it?"
Mr. Baldison was a cautious man, and, taking the paper, he examined theconnected lines long and deliberately. His comment, when he made it, wasnot entirely satisfying.
"It might be part of a side plan of one story," he said, "but it ain'tfinished. There's only one brace in, and the cross beam is lacking. Ifit wasn't for the left-hand upright, I should say it was part of aswing-crane, but the pulley isn't strung. I don't know what it is. Whomade it?"
But Mr. Turck did not go into particulars. He left Baldison's place andstudied out the problem in his own office; he went out again and askedin vain the opinion of a dozen men, and he went home that eveningbaffled and in a frame of mind of which the less said the better. Withintwenty-four hours Angeline was packed off to the Misses Cutlet'sboarding-school in distant Belleville, to be "finished," as her motherdescribed it. The irate father used other and far less becoming words.
This shifting of the scene when, to her, so much of importance wasinvolved, was a most serious thing to Angeline. But it might have beenmuch worse than it proved at the school. Plump Bessey Payton, anothergirl from Willow Bend, was there, and it was easily so arranged that thetwo occupied adjoining rooms. They had been friends for years, and therenewed companionship was much for Angeline. It aided in partialdistraction.
And now this story, which has been--from an ordinary point ofview--little more than a comedy, develops into something very like atragedy. It was so to a young girl, at least. The Misses Cutlet had beeninstructed to keep a sharp eye open, and report, as well as they might,upon the quantity of Angeline's correspondence. They had little to tell.Angeline received few letters, and none frequently from any one person,so far as could be learned from the envelopes addressed to her. Theparents were content.
And Angeline really had no correspondence with Harvey Lowry. She was ayoung woman who would keep her word, and she did not write to him,while from him came no message save an occasional envelope containingonly a slip of paper upon which appeared the mysterious symbol. But wasnot that enough? Did it not indicate that she was still in his heart,and that he would be always hers? Those lines must have a meaning, andthough she could not translate them, she felt it was only because Harveyhad forgotten that he had never given her the key. What of that? Sheknew instinctively that the story they told was one of faith andfaithfulness. How delicate of him, and how thoughtful that such lovingreminder should come at times, and how wonderful it was that he shouldhave invented such a thing for her dear sake alone! Her love grew withthe months, and so, unfortunately, despite the letters with thereassuring figure, did her unhappiness.
It is perhaps unreasonable that we should laugh at the loves of theyoung, at what we call "calf love" in the male, and a "schoolgirl'sfancy" in the maiden, for the springs of the heart do not always deepenwith the years. Well for youth is it that it owns such wonderfullyrecuperative forces of mind and body; sad would it be to the elders if,without such recuperative powers, their feelings were given suchabandonment. Youth's hurts are sometimes serious. Angeline was growingfrom the subjugated girl into the suffering woman. Other young women,she reasoned, were allowed to love and to marry the men of their choice.Why should she be made so cruel an exception? She idealized the absent,as the loving, so often do. In her mind, Harvey Lowry had grown from onefor whom she cared more than for others into a hero without a flaw, onethoughtful, considerate, self-denying and altogether noble. Thesentimental vein in her nature broadened and deepened, and she placed agreater value on the sweet reminder of the mysterious figures in theletters. And all for her! How constant he was, and how hard the lot ofboth of them! She became feverish and impatient. Her studies lost allinterest, her cheeks became paler, thinner, her manner more languid. Itcould not last.
So the months went by until the end of the scholastic year was close athand. Angeline would soon be in Willow Bend again and with her parents.She would meet Harvey Lowry again--that was inevitable. What would thenear vacation bring to her? she asked herself. She was growing stubbornnow. The portentous figure of her father no longer loomed so highly inher eyes as formerly, and she was the decided woman, with a woman'sheart and will, and a woman's rights. What might be the summer'shistory!
Accidents--as thoughtful people are much given to remark--have sometimesgreat effect on the affairs of human beings.
One day as Angeline, visiting her friend, stood looking at her stillagreeable image in Bess' mirror, she saw, stuck in the frame, amongcards, notes and photographs, a square of yellowish paper. The coloringseemed to have come from age, but of that Angeline made no note. All shesaw or knew was that the paper bore this mystic sign upon it:[Symbol: box]
For a moment or two the girl stood motionless. Power of speech andmovement were gone. Then, "Bess," she called tremblingly; "what isthis?" and she held out the paper for inspection.
"That? Oh, that is from Harvey Lowry," said Bess composedly.
"But, oh, Bess," cried the girl excitedly, "what does it mean?"
"Can't you guess?" was the reply.
"No, I can't," was the slow answer, "and--and I've seen it before."
The careless Bess was aroused now, and there was a flash in her blackeyes. "How dare Harvey Lowry have sent one of those to any one else?"she broke out impetuously, but her excitement was only momentary. Shebegan to laugh. "Well, it was a good while ago, after all." And so heranger vanished.
Angeline was recovering herself, though with an effort. "But tellme--tell me what it means," she demanded.
"Why, you stupid girl!" was the reply. "I guessed it in the first tenminutes--and once we signed all our letters with it. Now, see here," andshe took paper and pencil and drew a perpendicular mark, thus:[Symbol: vertical]
"That is 'I' isn't it? Well then, I'll put on this mark," and she addeda line horizontally, making this figure: [Symbol: ell]
"That's an 'L' you see. Next, to make your 'Y,' you put on this"--shemade two added marks--"and you have this: [Symbol: full]
"There's your 'I. L. Y.' sign!"
Angeline was stunned. Never was a dream dispelled so suddenly andharshly. Not for her had that mystic figure been devised, but foranother, and it had been utilized a second time, as if there were nosacredness to such things! It mattered not how much Harvey Lowry mightb
e interested in her now, she was but a sort of second-hand girl. Angertook the place of her unhappiness. "Delicate and thoughtful," indeed! Tosend those reassuring notes to her was now but a cheap impertinence! Shehad been accustomed, in her pity of herself, to quote something fromShakespeare which seemed to her to have a peculiarly sad and fittingapplication: "Not poppy, nor mandragora, nor all the drowsy syrups ofthe world, shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep which thouowed'st yesterday!"
Here were poppy and mandragora and syrups enough, all administered inone rude prescription, as to the efficacy of which there could be noshadow of a doubt!
Somehow the brooding and disappointed woman seemed to melt away now, andthere reappeared the impulsive girl again. It was an angry girl, though.Her first grief over--and it lasted but for a day--she resolved upon anepistolary feat of her own. She wrote three letters. The first was toHarvey Lowry. It was not quite, but nearly, as school-girlish as shemight have written a year earlier, being distinctly of the "'tis betterthus" variety and "coldly dissecting," as she afterwards said inconfidence to a bosom friend. In it she bade her admirer an eternalfarewell, notwithstanding the fact that they must inevitably see eachother every day in the week as soon as she returned to Willow Bend. Thislabored epistle she placed in another, of a meek and lowly tenor, to herfather. Both of these she inclosed in a letter to her mother.
It is needless to say that upon receipt of these letters in Willow Bendthe Turck family fairly glowed. The old gentleman sent Angeline's letterto Harvey, accompanied by a stiff one of his own, and sent to Bellevillea substantial addition to his daughter's quarterly allowance.
As to Harvey Lowry, who has been much neglected, his own story deservessome attention now. When he had read the two letters he was a mostperplexed young man. It had never occurred to him that to use his "I. L.Y." device a second time, or rather with a second girl, was anything outof the way, for, with all his sentiment, Harvey was not insistent uponthe finer shadings in the affairs of life, even when appertaining to theheart. He had really cared for Angeline, but he did not become a souredand disappointed man. Despite the "dissecting" letter, he and Angelineoften met and spoke in later times, and when, finally, she married, andmarried well, there was none more gratified than he. Time tells in thevillage as much as it does elsewhere. Nothing could extract quite allthe romance from the ingenious Harvey. After fluttering around thevillage beauties for a time he ended by marrying a sweet-tempered,freckled country girl, with whom he lives in great content in a smallhouse, crowded now with jolly, freckled boys and girls. And here comesrelation of something which shows how hard it is to eliminate the onceimplanted sentimental tendency. To this day, when the father of thefreckled family has occasion to write to the mother, he invariably signshis letters: [Symbol: full]
The Cassowary; What Chanced in the Cleft Mountains Page 25