A KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY by Edward Payson Roe (red seas under red skies .TXT) 📕

She Not Cordial To You?" Asked the Young Man, With A Dark Frown.

 

 

 

"She Was Very Polite, Egbert. I Think She Misunderstands Me A Little."

 

 

 

His Lace Flushed with Indignation, And After A Moment'S Thought He Said

Bitterly, And With Something Like Contempt, "Poor Mother! She Is To Be

Pitied."

 

 

 

Mrs. Arnot'S Face Became Very Grave, And Almost Severe, And She Replied,

With An Emphasis Which He Never Forgot:

 

 

 

"She Is To Be Loved; She Is To Be Cherished with The Most Delicate

Consideration And Forbearance, And Honored--Yes, Honored--Because She Is

Your Mother. You, As Her Son, Should Never Say, Nor Permit Any One To

Say A Word Against Her. Nothing Can Absolve You From This Sacred duty.

Remember This As You Hope To Be A True Man."

 

 

 

This Was Mrs. Arnot'S Return For The Small Jealousy Of Her Girlhood'S

Friend.

 

 

 

He Bowed his Head, And After A Moment Replied: "Mrs. Arnot, I Feel, I

Know, You Are Right. I Thank You."

 

 

 

"Now You Are My Knight Again," She Said, Her Face Suddenly Lighting Up.

"But Come; Let Us Join The Others, For They Seem To Have Hit Upon A Very

Mirthful And Animated discussion."

 

 

 

Laura'S Eye And Sympathies Took Them In at Once As They Approached, And

Enveloped them In the Genial And Magnetic Influences Which She Seemed to

Have The Power Of Exerting. Although Naturally And Deeply Interested in

His Interview With Mrs. Arnot, Haldane'S Eyes And Thoughts Had Been

Drawn Frequently And Irresistibly To The Object Of His Old-Time Passion.

She Was, Indeed, Very Different From What He Had Expected. The Diffident

Maiden, So Slight In form And Shy In manner, Had Not Developed into A

Drooping Lily Of A Woman, Suggesting That She Must Always Have A Manly

Support Of Some Kind Near At Hand. Still Less Had She Become A Typical

Belle, And The Aggressive Society Girl Who Captures And Amuses Herself

With Her Male Admirers With The Grace And Sang Froid Of A Sportive

Kitten That Carefully Keeps A Hapless Mouse Within Reach Of Her Velvet

Paw. The Pale And Saint-Like Image Which He Had So Long Enshrined within

His Heart, And Which Had Been Created by Her Devotion To Her Mother,

Also Faded utterly Away In the Presence Of The Reality Before Him. She

Was A Veritable Flesh-And-Blood Woman, With The Hue Of Health Upon Her

Cheek, And The Charm Of Artistic Beauty In her Rounded form And Graceful

Manner. She Was A Revelation To Him, Transcending Not Only All That He

Had Seen, But All That He Had Imagined.

 

 

 

Thus Far He Had Not Attained a Moral And Intellectual Culture Which

Enabled him Even To Idealize So Beautiful And Perfect A Creature. She

Was Not A Saint In the Mystical Or Imaginative Sense Of The Word, But,

As A Queen Reigning By The Divine Right Of Her Surpassing Loveliness And

Grace In even Hillaton'S Exclusive Society, She Was Practically As Far

Removed from Him As If She Were An Ideal Saint Existing Only In a

Painter'S Haunted imagination.

 

 

 

Nature Had Dowered laura Romeyn Very Richly In the Graces Of Both Person

And Mind; But Many Others Are Equally Favored. Her Indescribable Charm

Arose From The Fact That She Was Very Receptive In her Disposition. She

Had Been Wax To Receive, But Marble To Retain. Therefore, Since She Had

Always Lived and Breathed in an Atmosphere Of Culture, Refinement, And

Christian Faith, Her Character Had The Exquisite Beauty And Fragrance

Which Belongs To A Rare Flower To Which All The Conditions Of Perfect

Development Have Been Supplied. Although The Light Of Her Eye Was

Serene, And Her Laugh As Clear And Natural As The Fall Of Water, There

Was A Nameless Something Which Indicated that Her Happy, Healthful

Nature Rested against A Dark Background Of Sorrow And Trial, And Was

Made The Richer And More Perfect Thereby.

 

 

 

Her Self-Forgetfulness Was Contagious. The Beautiful Girl Did Not Look

From One To Another Of The Admiring Circle For The Sake Of Picking Up A

Small Revenue Of Flattery. From A Native Generosity She Wished to Give

Pleasure To Her Guests; From A Holy Principle Instilled into Her Nature

So Long Ago That She Was No Longer Conscious Of It, She Wished to Do

Them Good By Suggesting Only Such Thoughts As Men Associate With Pure,

Good Women; And From An Earnest, Yet Sprightly Mind, She Took A Genuine

Interest Herself In the Subjects On Which They Were Conversing.

 

 

 

By Her Tact, And With Mrs. Arnot'S Efficient Aid, She Drew All Into The

Current Of Their Talk. The Three Other Young Men Who Were Mrs. Arnot'S

Guests That Evening Were Manly Fellows, And Had Come To Treat Haldane

With Cordial Respect. Thus For A Time He Was Made To Forget All That Had

Occurred to Cloud His Life. He Found That The Presence Of Laura Kindled

His Intellect With A Fire Of Which He Had Never Been Conscious Before.

His Eyes Flashed sympathy With Every Word She Said, And Before He Was

Aware He, Too, Was Speaking His Mind With Freedom, For He Saw No

Chilling Repugnance Toward Him In the Kindly Light Of Her Deep Blue

Eyes. She Led him To Forget Himself And His Past So Completely That He,

In The Excitement Of Argument, Inadvertently Pronounced his Own Doom. In

Answer To The Remark Of Another, He Said:

 

 

 

"Society Is Right In being Conservative And Exclusive, And Its Favor

Should Be The Highest Earthly Reward Of A Stainless Life. The Coarse And

The Vulgar Should Be Taught That They Cannot Purchase It Nor Elbow Their

Way Into It, And Those Who Have It Should Be Made To Feel That Losing It

Is Like Losing Life, For It Can Never Be Regained. Thus Society Not Only

Protects Itself, But Prevents Weak Souls From Dallying With Temptation."

 

 

 

So Well-Bred was Laura That, While Her Color Deepened at His Words, She

Betrayed no Other Consciousness That They Surprised her. But He Suddenly

Remembered all, And The Blood Rushed tumultuously To His Face, Then Left

It Very Pale.

 

 

 

"What I Have Said Is True, Nevertheless," He Added quietly And

Decisively, As If In answer To These Thoughts; "And Losing One'S Place

In Society May Be Worse Than Losing Life."

 

 

 

He Felt That This Was True, As He Looked at The Beautiful Girl Before

Him, So Kind And Gentle, And Yet So Unapproachable By Him; And, What Is

More, He Saw In her Face Pitying acquiescence To His Words. As Her

Aunt'S Protege, As A Young Man Trying To Reform, He Felt That He Would

Have Her Good Wishes And Courteous Treatment, But Never Anything More.

 

 

 

"Egbert, I Take Issue With You," Began Mrs. Arnot Warmly; But Further

Remark Was Interrupted by The Entrance Of A Gentleman, Who Was Announced

As

 

 

 

"Mr. Beaumont."

 

 

 

There Was A Nice Distinction Between The Greeting Given By Mrs. Arnot To

This Gentleman And That Which She Had Bestowed upon Haldane And Her

Other Guests. His Reception Was Simply The Perfection Of Quiet Courtesy,

And No One Could Have Been Sure That The Lady Was Glad To See Him. She

Merely Welcomed him As A Social Equal To Her Parlors, And Then Turned

Again To Her Friends.

 

 

 

But Laura Had A Kindlier Greeting For The New-Comer. While Her Manner

Was Equally Undemonstrative, Her Eyes Lighted up With Pleasure And The

Color Deepened in her Cheeks. It Was Evident That They Were Old

Acquaintances, And That He Had Found Previous Occasions For Making

Himself Very Agreeable.

 

 

 

Mr. Beaumont Did Not Care To Form One Of A Circle. He Was In the World'S

Estimation, Possibly In his Own, A Complete Circle In himself, Rounded

Out And Perfect On Every Side. He Was The Only Son In one Of The Oldest

And Most Aristocratic Families In the City; He Was The Heir Of Very

Large Wealth; His Careful Education Had Been Supplemented by Years Of

Foreign Travel; He Was Acknowledged to Be The Best Connoisseur Of Art In

Hillaton; And To His Irreproachable Manners Was Added an Irreproachable

Character. "He Is A Perfect Gentleman," Was The Verdict Of The Best

Society Wherever He Appeared.

 

 

 

Something To This Effect Haldane Learned from One Of The Young Men With

Whom He Had Been Spending The Evening, As They Bent Their Steps

Homeward--For Soon After Mr. Beaumont'S Arrival All Took Their

Departure.

 

 

 

That Gentleman Seemed to Bring In with Him A Different Atmosphere From

That Which Had Prevailed hitherto. Although His Bow Was Distant To

Haldane When Introduced, His Manner Had Been The Perfection Of

Politeness To The Others. For Some Reason, However, There Had Been A

Sudden Restraint And Chill. Possibly They Had But Unconsciously Obeyed

The Strong Will Of Mr. Beaumont, Who Wished their Departure. He Was

Almost As Resolute In having His Own Way As Mr. Arnot Himself. Not That

He Was Ever Rude To Any One In any Circumstances, But He Could Politely

Freeze Objectionable Persons Out Of A Room As Effectually As If He Took

Them By The Shoulders And Walked them Out. There Was So Much In his

Surroundings And Antecedents To Sustain His Quiet Assumption, That The

World Was Learning To Say, "By Your Leave," On All Occasions.

 

 

 

Haldane Was Not Long In reaching a Conclusion As He Sat Over A Dying

Fire In his Humble Quarters At The Hermitage. If He Saw Much Of Laura

Romeyn He Would Love Her Of Necessity By Every Law Of His Being.

Assuring Himself Of The Hopelessness Of His Affection Would Make No

Difference To One Of His Temperament. He Was Not One Who Could Coolly

Say To His Ardent And Impetuous Nature, "Thus Far, And No Farther."

There Was Something In her Every Tone, Word, And Movement Which Touched

Chords Within His Heart That Vibrated pleasurably Or Painfully.

 

 

 

This Power Cannot Be Explained. It Was Not Passion. Were Laura Far More

Beautiful, Something In her Manner Or Character Might Speedily Have

Broken The Spell By Which She Unconsciously Held Her Captive. His

Emotion In no Respect Resembled the Strong Yet Restful Affection That He

Entertained for Mrs. Arnot. Was It Love? Why Should He Love One Who

Would Not Love In return, And Who, Both In the World'S And His Own

Estimation, Was Infinitely Beyond His Reach? However Much His Reason

Might Condemn His Feelings, However Much He Might Regret The Fact, His

Heart Trembled at Her Presence, And, By Some Instinct Of Its Own,

Acknowledged its Mistress. He Was Compelled to Admit To Himself That He

Loved her Already, And That His Boyhood'S Passion Had Only Changed as He

Had Changed, And Had Become The Strong And Abiding Sentiment Of The Man.

She Only Could Have Broken The Power By Becoming Commonplace, By Losing

The Peculiar Charm Which She Had For Him From The First. But Now He

Could Not Choose; He Had Met His Fate.

 

 

 

One Thing, However, He Could Do, And That He Resolved upon Before He

Closed his Eyes In sleep In the Faint Dawning Of The Following Day. He

Would Not Flutter As A Poor Moth Where He Could Not Be Received as An

Accepted lover.

 

 

 

This Resolution He Kept. He Did Not Cease Calling Upon Mrs. Arnot, Nor

Did The Quiet Warmth Of His Manner Toward Her Change; But His Visits

Became Less Frequent, He Pleading The Engrossing Character Of His

Studies, And The Increasing Preparation Required to Maintain His Hold On

His Mission-Class; But The Lady'S Delicate Intuition Was Not Long In

Divining The True Cause. One Of His Unconscious Glances At Laura

Revealed his Heart To Her Woman'S Eye As Plainly As Could Any Spoken

Words. But By No Word Or Hint Did Mrs. Arnot Reveal To Him Her

Knowledge. Her Tones Might Have Been Gentler And Her Eyes Kinder; That

Was All. In her Heart, However, She Almost Revered the Man Who Had The

Strength And Patience To Take Up This Heavy And Hopeless Burden, And Go

On In the Path Of Duty Without A Word. How Different Was His Present

Course From His Former Passionate Clamor For What Was Then Equally

Beyond His Reach? She Was Almost Provoked at Her Niece That She Did Not

Appreciate Haldane More. But Would She Wish Her Peerless Ward To Marry

This Darkly Shadowed man, To Whom No Parlor In hillaton Was Open Save

Her Own? Even Mrs. Arnot Would Shrink From This Question.

 

 

 

Laura, Too, Had Perceived that Which Haldane Meant To Hide From All The

World. When Has A Beautiful Woman Failed to Recognize Her Worshippers?

But There Was Nothing In laura'S Nature Which Permitted her To Exult

Over Such A Discovery. She Could Not Resent As Presumption A Love That

Was So Unobtrusive, For It Became More And More Evident As Time Passed

That The Man Who Was Mastered by It Would Never Voluntarily Give To Her

The Slightest Hint Of Its Existence. She Was Pleased that He Was So

Sensible As To Recognize The Impassable Gulf Between Them, And That He

Did Not Go Moaning along The Brink, Thus Making a Spectacle Of Himself,

And Becoming an Annoyance To Her. Indeed, She Sincerely