A.F. Pollard - "A Short History of the Great War"

Rafael Sabatini - "The Trampling of the Lilies"

George W. Gough - "The Yeoman Adventurer"

William Harrison Ainsworth - "Windsor Castle"

What Can She Do?

E >> Edward Pason Roe >> What Can She Do?




This sally pleased him immensely, for it expressed his ideal of
womanly return for masculine affection, at least the bills had never
been wanting in his experience. But, mellowed by wine and elated by
the success of the day, he now prepared to give the coup that would
make a far greater sensation in the family circle than even a debut or
a birthday party. So, glancing from one eager face to another (for
between the wine and the excitement even Mrs. Allen was no longer a
colorless, languid creature, ready to faint at the embrace of her
child), he said with a twinkle in his eye--

"Well, go to your mother about the party. She is a veteran in such
matters. But let there be some limit to the length of the bill, or I
can't carry out another plan I have in view for you."

Chorus--"What is that?"

Coolly filling his glass, he commenced leisurely sipping, while
glancing humorously from one to another, enjoying their impatient
expectancy.

"If you don't tell us right away," cried Zell, bouncing up, "I'll pull
your whiskers without mercy."

"Papa, you will throw mother into a fever. See how flushed her face
is!" said Laura, the eldest daughter, speaking at the same time two
words for herself.

The face of Edith, with dazzling complexion all aglow, and large dark
eyes lustrous with excitement, was more eloquent than words could have
been, and the bon vivant drank in her expression with as much zest as
he sipped his wine. Perhaps it was well for him to make the most of
that little keen-edged moment of bright anticipation and bewildering
hope, for what he was about to propose would cost him many thousands,
and exile him from business, which to him was the very breath of life.

But Mrs. Allen's matter-of-fact voice brought things to a crisis, for
with an injured air she said:

"How can you, George, when you know the state of my nerves?"

"What I propose, mamma, will cure your nerves and everything else, for
it is nothing less than a tour through Europe."

There was a shriek of delight from the girls, in which even the
exquisite Laura joined, and Mrs. Allen trembled with excitement. Apart
from the trip itself, they considered it a sort of disgrace that a
family of their social position and wealth had never been abroad.
Therefore the announcement was doubly welcome. Hitherto Mr. Allen's
devotion to business had made it impossible, and he had given them no
hints of the near consummation of their wishes. But he had begun to
feel the need of change and rest himself, and this weighed more with
him than all their entreaties.

In a moment Zell had her arms about his neck, and her sisters were
throwing him kisses across the table. His wife, looking unusually
gratified, said:

"You are a sensible man at last," which was a great deal for Mrs.
Allen to say.

"Why, mamma," exclaimed her husband, elevating his eyebrows in comic
surprise, "that I should live to hear you say that!"

"Now don't be silly," she replied, joining slightly in the laugh at
her expense, "or we shall think that you have taken too much
champagne, and that this Europe business is all a hoax."

"Wait till you have been outside of Sandy Hook an hour, and you will
find everything real enough then. I think I see the elegant ladies of
my household about that time."

"For shame, papa! what an uncomfortable suggestion over a dinner
table!" said the fastidious Laura. "Picture the ladies of your
household in the salons of Paris. I promise we will do you credit
there."

"I hope so, for I fear I shall have need of _credit_ when you all
reach that Mecca of women."

"It's no more the Mecca of women than Wall Street is the Jerusalem of
men. What you are all going to do in Heaven without Wall Street, I
don't see."

Mr. Allen gave his significant shrug and said, "I don't meet notes
till they are due," which was his way of saying: "Sufficient unto the
day is the evil thereof."

"The salons of Paris!" said Edith, with some disdain. "Think of the
scenery, the orange-groves, and vineyards that we shall see, the
Alpine flowers--"

"I declare," interrupted Zell, "I believe that Edith would rather see
a grape-vine and orange-tree than all the toilets of Paris."

"I shall enjoy seeing both," was the reply, "and so have the advantage
of you in having two strings to my bow."

"By the way, that reminds me to ask how many beaux you now have on the
string," said the father.

Edith tossed her head with a pretty blush and said: "Pity me, my
father; you know I am always poor at arithmetic."

"You will take up with a crooked stick after all. Now Laura is a
sensible girl, like her mother, and has picked out one of the richest,
longest-headed fellows on the street."

"Indeed!" said his wife. "I do not see but you are paying yourself a
greater compliment than either Laura or me."

"Oh, no, a mere business statement. Laura means business, and so does
Mr. Goulden."

Laura looked annoyed and said:

"Pa, I thought you never talked business at home."

"Oh, this is a feminine phase that women understand. I want your
sisters to profit by your good example."

"I shall marry an Italian count," cried Zell.

"Who will turn out a fourth-rate Italian barber, and I shall have to
support you both. But I won't do it. You would have to help him
shave."

"No, I should transform him into a leader of banditti, and we would
live in princely state in the Apennines. Then we would capture you,
papa, and carry you off to the mountains, and I would be your jailer,
and give you nothing but turtle-soup, champagne, and kisses till you
paid a ransom that would break Wall Street."

"I would not pay a cent, but stay and eat you out of house and home."

"I never expect to marry," said Edith, "but some day I am going to
commence saving my money--now don't laugh, papa, for I could be
economical if I once made up my mind"--and the pretty head gave a
decisive little nod.

"I am going to save my money and buy a beautiful place in the country
and make it as near like the garden of Eden as possible."

"Snakes will get into it as of old," was Mrs. Allen's cynical remark.

"Yes, that is woman's experience with a garden," said her husband with
a mock sigh.

Popping off the cork of another bottle, he added, "I have got ahead of
you, Edith. I own a place in the country, much as I dislike that kind
of property. I had to take it to-day in a trade, and so am a
landholder in Pushton--prospect, you see, of my becoming a rural
gentleman (Squire is the title, I believe), and of exchanging stock in
Wall Street for the stock of a farm. Here's to my estate of three
acres with a story and a half mansion upon it! Perhaps you would
rather go up there this summer than to Paris, my dear?" to his wife.

Mrs. Allen gave a contemptuous shrug as if the jest were too
preposterous to be answered, but Edith cried:

"Fill my glass; I will drink to your country place. I know the cottage
is a sweet rustic little box, all smothered with vines and roses like
one I saw last June." Then she added in sport, "I wish you would give
it to me for my birthday present. It would make such a nice porter's
lodge at the entrance to my future Eden."

"Are you in earnest?" asked the father suddenly.

Both were excited by the wine they had drunk. She glanced at her
father, and saw that he was in a mood to say yes to anything, and,
quick as thought, she determined to get the place if possible.

"Of course I am. I would rather have it than all the jewelry in New
York." She was over-supplied with that style of gift.

"You shall have it then, for I am sure I don't want it, and am
devoutly thankful to be rid of it."

Edith clapped her hands with a delight scarcely less demonstrative
than that of Zell in her wildest moods.

"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Allen; "the idea of giving a young lady such an
elephant!"

"Bat remember," continued her father, "you must manage it yourself,
pay the taxes, keep it repaired, insured, etc. There is a first-class
summer hotel near it. Next year, after we get back from Europe, we
will go up there and stay awhile. You shall then take possession,
employ an agent to take care of it, who by the way will cheat you to
your heart's content. I will wager you a box of gloves that, before a
year passes, you will try to sell the ivy-twined cottage for anything
you can get, and will be thoroughly cured of your mania for country
life."

"I'll take you up," said Edith, in great excitement, "but remember, I
want my deed on my birthday."

"All right," said Mr. Allen, laughing. "I will transfer it to you to-
morrow, while I think of it. But don't try to trade it off to me
before next month for a new dress."

Edith was half wild over her present. Many and varied were her
questions, but her father only said:

"I don't know much about it. I did not listen to half the man said,
but I remember he stated there was a good deal of fruit on the place,
for it made me think of you at the time. Bless you, I could not stop
for such small game. I am negotiating a large and promising operation
which you understand about as well as farming. It will take some time
to carry it through, but when finished we will start for the 'salons
of Paris.'"

"I half believe," said Laura, with a covert sneer, "that Edith would
rather go up to her farm of three acres."

"I am well satisfied as papa has arranged it," said the practical
girl. "Everything in its place, and get all out of life you can, is my
creed."

"That means, get all out of me you can, don't it, sly puss?" laughed
the father, well pleased, though, with the worldly wisdom of the
speech.

"Kisses, kisses, unlimited kisses, and consider yourself well repaid,"
was the arch rejoinder; and not a few, looking at her as she then
appeared, would have coveted such bargains. So her father seemed to
think as he gazed admiringly at her.

But something in Zell's pouting lips and vexed expression caught his
eye, and he said good-naturedly:

"Heigho, youngster, what has brought a thunder-cloud across your saucy
face?"

"In providing for birthdays to come, I guess you have forgotten your
baby's birthday present."

"Come here, you envious elf," said her father, taking something from
his pocket. Like light she flashed out from under the cloud and was at
his side in an instant, dimpling, smiling, and twinkling with
expectation, her black eyes as quick and restless as her father was
deliberate and slow in undoing a dainty parcel.

"Oh, George, do be quick about it, or Zell will explode. You both make
me nervous," said Mrs. Allen fretfully.

Suddenly pressing open a velvet casket, Mr. Allen hung a jewelled
watch with a long gold chain about his favorite's neck, while she
improvised a hornpipe around his chair.

"There," said he, "is something that is worth more than Edith's farm,
tumble-down cottage, roses, and all. So remember that those lips were
made to kiss, not to pout with."

Zell put her lips to proper uses to that extent that Mrs. Allen began
to grow jealous, nervous, and out of sorts generally, and having
finished her chocolate, rose feebly from the table. Her husband
offered his arm and the family dinner party broke up.

And yet, take it altogether, each one was in higher spirits than
usual, and Zell and Edith were in a state of positive delight. They
had received costly gifts that specially gratified their peculiar
tastes, and these, with the promise of a grand party and a trip to
Europe, youthful buoyancy, and champagne, so dilated their little
feminine souls that Mrs. Allen's fears of an explosion of some kind
were scarcely groundless. They dragged their stately sister Laura, now
unwontedly bland and affable, to the piano, and called for the
quickest and most brilliant of waltzes, and a moment later their lithe
figures flowed away in a rhythm of motion, that from their exuberance
of feeling, was as fantastic as it was graceful.

Mr. Allen assisted his wife to her room and soon left her in an
unusually contented frame of mind to develop strategy for the coming
party. Mrs. Allen's nerves utterly incapacitated her for the care of
her household, attendance upon church, and such humdrum matters, but
in view of a great occasion like a "grand crush ball," where among the
luminaries of fashion she could become the refulgent centre of a
constellation which her fair daughters would make around her, her
spirit rose to the emergency. When it came to dress and dressmakers
and all the complications of the campaign now opening, notwithstanding
her nerves, she could be quite Napoleonic.

Her husband retired to the library, lighted a choice Havana, skimmed
his evening papers, and then as usual went to his club.

This, as a general thing, was the extent of the library's literary
uses. The best authors in gold and Russia smiled down from the black
walnut shelves, but the books were present rather as furniture than
from any intrinsic value in themselves to the family. They were given
prominence on the same principle that led Mrs. Allen to give a certain
tone to her entertainments by inviting many literary and scientific
men. She might be unable to appreciate the works of the _savants_, but
as they appreciated the labors of her masterly French cook, many
compromised the matter by eating the _petits soupers_ and shrugging
their shoulders over the entertainers.

And yet the Allens were anything but vulgar upstarts. Both husband and
wife were descended from old and wealthy New York families. They had
all the polish which life-long association with the fashionable world
bestows. What was more, they were highly intelligent, and, in their
own sphere, gifted people. Mr. Allen was a leader in business in one
of the chief commercial centres, and to lead in legitimate business in
our day requires as much ability, indeed we may say genius, as to lead
in any order department of life. He would have shown no more ignorance
in the study, studio, and laboratory, than their occupants would have
shown in the counting-room. That to which he devoted his energies he
had become a master in. It is true he had narrowed down his life to
little else than business. He had never acquired a taste for art and
literature, nor had he given himself time for broad culture. But we
meet narrow artists, narrow clergymen, narrow scientists just as
truly. If you do not get on their hobby and ride with them, they seem
disposed to ride over you. Indeed, in our brief life with its fierce
competitions, few other than what are known as "one idea" men have
time to succeed. Even genius must drive with tremendous and
concentrated energy, to distance competitors. Mr. Allen was quite as
great in his department as any of the lions that his wife lured into
her parlors were in theirs.

Mrs. Allen was also a leader in her own chosen sphere, or rather in
the one to which she had been educated. Given _carte-blanche_ in the
way of expense, she would produce a brilliant entertainment which few
could surpass. The coloring and decorations of her rooms would not be
more rich, varied, or in better taste, than the diversity, and yet
harmony of the people she would bring together by her adroit
selections. She had studied society, and for it she lived, not to make
it better, not to elevate its character, and tone down its
extravagances, but simply to shine in it, to be talked about and
envied.

Both husband and wife had achieved no small success, and to succeed in
such a city as New York in their chosen departments required a certain
amount of genius. The _savants_ had a general admiration for Mrs.
Allen's style and taste, but found that she had nothing to offer on
the social exchange of her parlors but fashion's smallest chit-chat.
They had a certain respect for Mr. Allen's wealth and business power,
but, having discussed the news of the day, they would pass on, and the
people during the intervals of dancing drifted into congenial schools
and shoals, like fish in a lake. Mr. and Mrs. Allen had a vague
admiration for the learning of the scholars and the culture of the
artists, but would infinitely prefer marrying their daughters to
downtown merchant princes.

Take the world over, perhaps all classes of people are despising
others quite as much as they are despised themselves.

But when the French cook appeared upon the scene, then was produced
your true democracy. Then was shown a phase of life into which all
entered with a zest that proved the common tie of humanity.




CHAPTER III

THREE MEN



While Mrs. Allen was planning the social pyrotechnics that should
dazzle the fashionable world, Edith and Zell were working off their
exuberant spirits in the manner described in the last chapter, which
was as natural to their city-bred feet as a wild romp is to a country
girl.

The brilliant notes of the piano and the rustle of their silks had
rendered them oblivious to the fact that the door-bell had rung twice,
and that three gentlemen were peering curiously through the half-open
door. They were evidently frequent and favored visitors, and had
motioned the old colored waiter not to announce them, and he
reluctantly obeyed.

For a moment they feasted their eyes on the scene, as the two girls,
with twining arms and many innovations on the regular step, whirled
through the rooms, and then Zell's quick eye detected them.

Pouncing upon the eldest gentleman of the party, she dragged him from
his ambush, while the others also entered. The youngest approached the
blushing, panting Edith with an almost boyish confidence of manner, as
if assured of a welcome, while the remaining gentleman, who was
verging toward middle age, quietly glided to the piano and gave his
hand to Laura, who greeted him with a cordiality scarcely to be
expected from so stately a young lady.

The laws of affinity and selection were evidently in force here, and
as the reader must surmise, long acquaintance had led to the present
easy and intimate relations.

"What do you mean," cried Zell, dragging under the gaslight her
cavalier, who assumed much penitence and fear, "by thus rudely and
abruptly breaking in upon the retirement of three secluded young
ladies?"

"At their devotions," added the cynical voice of the gentleman at the
piano, who was no other than Mr. Goulden, Laura's admirer.

Zell's attendant threw himself in the attitude of a suppliant and said
deprecatingly:

"Nay, but we are astronomers."

"That's a fib, and not a very white one either," she retorted. "I
don't believe you ever look toward heaven for anything."

"What need of looking thither for heavenly bodies?" he replied in a
low, meaning tone, regarding with undisguised admiration her glowing
cheeks. "Moreover, I don't like telescopic distances," he continued,
with a half-made motion to put his arm around her waist.

"Come," she said, pirouetting out of his reach, "remember I am no
longer a child, I am seventeen to-day."

"Would that you might never be a day older in appearance and
feelings!"

"Are you willing to leave me so far behind?" she asked with some
maliciousness.

"No, but you would make me a boy again. If old Ponce de Leon had met a
Miss Zell, he would soon have forsaken the swamps and alligators of
Florida." "Oh, what a watery, scaly compliment! Preferred to swamps
and alligators! Who would have believed it?"

"I am not blind to your pretty, wilful blindness. You know I likened
you to something too divine and precious to be found on earth."

"Which is still true in the carrying out of your marvellously mixed
metaphors. I must lend you my rhetoric book. But as your meaning dawns
on me, I see that you are symbolized by old Ponce. I shall look in the
history for the age of the ancient Spaniard to-morrow, and then I
shall know how old you are, a thing I could never find out."

As with little jets of silvery laughter and with butterfly motion she
hovered round him, the very embodiment of life and beautiful youth,
she would have made, to an artist's eye, a very true realization of
the far-famed mythical fountain.

And yet, as a moment later she confidingly took his arm and strolled
toward the library, it was evident that all her flutter and hesitancy,
her seeming freedom and mimic show of war, were like those of some
bright tropical bird fascinated by a remorseless serpent whose intent
eyes and deadly purpose are creating a spell that cannot be resisted.

Mr. Van Dam, upon whose arm she was leaning, was one of the worst
products of artificial metropolitan life. He had inherited a name
which ancestry had rendered honorable, but which he to the utmost
dishonored, and yet so adroitly, so shrewdly respecting fashion's
code, though shunning nothing wrong, that he did not lose the _entree_
of the gilded homes of those who called themselves "the best society."

True, it was whispered that he was rather fast, that he played heavily
and a trifle too successfully, and that he lived the life of anything
but a saint at his luxurious rooms. "But then," continued society,
openly and complacently, "he is so fine-looking, so courtly and
polished, so well connected, and what is still more to the point, my
dear, he is reputed to be immensely wealthy, so we must not heed these
rumors. After all, it is the way of these young men of the world."

Thus "the best society" that would have politely frozen out of its
parlors the Chevalier Bayard, _sans peur et sans reproche_, had he not
appeared in the latest style, with golden fame rather than golden
spurs, welcomed Mr. Van Dam. Indeed, not a few forced exotic belles,
who had prematurely developed in the hothouse atmosphere of wealth and
extravagance, regarded him as a sort of social lion; and his
reticence, with a certain mystery in which he shrouded his evil life,
made him all the more fascinating. He was past the prime of life,
though exceedingly well preserved, for he was one of those cool,
deliberate votaries of pleasure that reduce amusement to a science,
and carefully shun all injurious excess. While exceedingly deferential
toward the sex in general, and bestowing compliments and attentions as
adroitly as a financier would place his money, he at the same time
permitted the impression to grow that he was extremely fastidious in
his taste, and had never married because it had never been his fortune
to meet the faultless being who could satisfy his exacting eyes. Any
special and continued admiration on his part therefore made its
recipient an object of distinction and envy to very many in the unreal
world in which he glided serpent-like, rather than moved as a man. To
morbid minds his rumored evil deeds became piquant eccentricities, and
the whispers of the oriental orgies that were said to take place in
his bachelor apartments made him an object of a curious interest, and
many sighed for the opportunity of reforming so distinguished a
sybarite.

On Edith's entrance into society he had been much impressed by her
beauty, and had gradually grown quite attentive, equally attracted by
her father's wealth. But she, though with no clear perception of his
character, and with no higher moral standard than that of her set,
instinctively shrank from the man. Indeed, in some respects, they were
too much alike for that mysterious attraction that so often occurs
between opposites. Not that she had his unnatural depravity, but like
him she was shrewd, practical, resolute, and was controlled by her
judgment rather than by her impulses. Her vanity, of which she had no
little share, led her to accept his attentions to a certain point, but
the keen man of the world soon saw that his "little game," as in his
own vernacular he styled it, would not be successful, and he was the
last one to sigh in vain or mope an hour in lovelorn melancholy. While
ceasing to press his suit, he continued to be a frequent and familiar
visitor at the house, and thus his attention was drawn to Zell, who,
though young, had developed early in the stimulating atmosphere in
which she lived. At first he petted and played with ner as a child, as
she wilfully flitted in and out of the parlors, whether her sisters
wanted her or not. He continually brought her _bon-bons_ and like
fanciful trifles, till at last, in jest, the family called him Zell's
"ancient beau."

But during the past year it had dawned on him that the child he petted
on account of her beauty and sprightliness, was rapidly becoming a
brilliant woman, who would make a wife far more to his taste than her
equally beautiful but matter-of-fact sister. Therefore he warily, so
as not to alarm the jealous father, but with all the subtle skill of
which he was master, sought to win her affections, knowing that she
would have her own way when she knew what way she wanted.

For Zell this unscrupulous man had a peculiar fascination. He petted
and flattered her to her heart's content, and thus made her the envy
of her young acquaintances, which was incense indeed to her vain
little soul. He never lectured or preached to her on account of her
follies and nonsense, as her elderly friends usually did, but gave to
her wild, impulsive moods free rein. Where a true friend would have
cautioned and curbed, he applauded and incited, causing Zell to
mistake extravagance in language and boldness in manner for spirit and
brilliancy. Laura and Edith often remonstrated with her, but she did
not heed them. Indeed, she feared no one save her father, and Mr. Van
Dam was propriety itself when he was present, which was but seldom.
What with his business, and club, and Mrs. Allen's nerves, the girls
were left mainly to themselves.

Copyright (c) 2007. topbookz.net. All rights reserved.