ONE of the most comfortable things about
Frederick Mostyn was his almost boyish delight
in the new life which New York opened
to him. Every phase of it was so fresh, so
unusual, that his Yorkshire existence at Mostyn
Hall gave him no precedents and no experiences
by which to measure events. The
simplest things were surprising or interesting.
He was never weary of taking those exciting
"lifts" to the top of twenty-three story buildings
and admiring the wonderful views such
altitudes gave him. He did not perhaps comprehend
how much he was influenced by the
friction of two million wills and interests; did
not realize how they evoked an electric condition
that got behind the foreground of existence
and stirred something more at the roots
of his being than any previous experience had
ever done. And this feeling was especially
entrancing when he saw the great city and
majestic river lying at his feet in the white,
uncanny light of electricity, all its color gone,
its breath cold, its life strangely remote and
quiet, men moving like shadows, and sounds
hollow and faint and far off, as if they came
from a distant world. It gave him a sense of
dreamland quite as much as that of reality.
The Yorkshire moors and words grew dull and
dreary in his memory; even the thought of the
hunting field could not lure his desire. New
York was full of marvelous novelties; its
daily routine, even in the hotel and on the
streets, gripped his heart and his imagination;
and he confessed to himself that New York
was life at first hand; fresh drawn, its very
foam sparkling and intoxicating. He walked
from the Park to the Battery and examined
all that caught his eye. He had a history of
the city and sought out every historical site;
he even went over to Weehawken, and did his
best to locate the spot where Burr and Hamilton
fought. He admired Hamilton, but
after reading all about the two men, gave his
sympathy to Burr, "a clever, unlucky little
chap," he said. "Why do clever men hate
each other?" and then he smiled queerly as
he remembered political enemies of great men
in his own day and his own country; and concluded
that "it was their nature to do so."
But in these outside enthusiasms he did not
forget his personal relations. It took him but
a few days to domesticate himself in both the
Rawdon houses. When the weather drove
him off the streets, he found a pleasant refuge
either with Madam or with Ethel and Miss
Bayard. Ethel he saw less frequently than he
liked; she was nearly always with Dora Denning,
but with Ruth Bayard he contracted a
very pleasant friendship. He told her all his
adventures and found her more sympathetic
than Madam ever pretended to be. Madam
thought him provincial in his tastes, and was
better pleased to hear that he had a visiting
entry at two good clubs, and had hired a
motor ear, and was learning how to manage
it. Then she told herself that if he was good
to her, she would buy him one to be proud of
before he returned to Yorkshire.
It was at the Elite Club Bryce Denning
first saw him. He came in with Shaw McLaren,
a young man whose acquaintance was
considered as most definitely satisfactory.
Vainly Bryce Denning had striven to obtain
any notice whatever from McLaren, whose
exclusiveness was proverbial. Who then was this
stranger he appeared so anxious to entertain?
His look of supreme satisfaction, his high-
bred air, and peculiar intonation quickly satisfied
Bryce as to his nationality.
"English, of course," he reflected, "and
probably one of the aristocrats that Shaw
meets at his recently ennobled sister's place.
He is forever bragging about them. I must
find out who Shaw's last British lion is," and
just as he arrived at this decision the person
appeared who could satisfy him.
"That man!" was the reply to the inevitable
question--"why, he is some relative
of the old lady Rawdon. He is staying at the
Holland House, but spends his time with the
Rawdons, old and young; the young one is a
beauty, you know."
"Do you think so? She is a good deal at
our house. I suppose the fellow has some
pretentions. Judge Rawdon will be a man hard
to satisfy with a son-in-law."
"I fancy his daughter will take that subject
in her own hand. She looks like a girl of
spirit; and this man is not as handsome as
most Englishmen."
"Not if you judge him by bulk, but women
want more than mere bulk; he has an air of
breeding you can't mistake, and he looks
clever."
"His name is Mostyn. I have heard him
spoken of. Would you like to know him?"
"I could live without that honor"--then
Bryce turned the conversation upon a recent
horse sale, and a few moments later was sauntering
up the avenue. He was now resolved to
make up his quarrel with Dora. Through
Dora he could manage to meet Mostyn socially,
and he smiled in anticipation of that
proud moment when he should parade in his
own friendly leash McLaren's new British
lion. Besides, the introduction to Mr. Mostyn
might, if judiciously managed, promote his
own acquaintance with Shaw McLaren, a sequence
to be much desired; an end he had
persistently looked for.
He went straight to his sister's apartments
and touched the bell quite gently. Her maid
opened the door and looked annoyed and uncertain.
She knew all about the cruelly
wicked opposition of Miss Denning's brother
to that nice young man, Basil Stanhope; and
also the general attitude of the Denning
household, which was a comprehensive disapproval
of all that Mr. Bryce said and did.
Dora had, however, talked all her anger
away; she wished now to be friends with her
brother. She knew that his absence from her
wedding would cause unpleasant notice, and
she had other reasons, purely selfish, all
emphasizing the advantages of a reconciliation.
So she went to meet Bryce with a pretty,
pathetic air of injury patiently endured, and
when Bryce put out his hands and said, "Forgive
me, Dodo! I cannot bear your anger any
longer!" she was quite ready for the next act,
which was to lay her pretty head on his shoulder
and murmur, "I am not angry, Bryce--I
am grieved, dear."
"I know, Dodo--forgive me! It was all
my fault. I think I was jealous of you; it
was hard to find that you loved a stranger
better than you loved me. Kiss me, and be
my own sweet, beautiful sister again. I shall
try to like all the people you like--for your
sake, you know."
Then Dora was charming. She sat and
talked and planned and told him all that had
been done and all that was yet to do. And
Bryce never once named either Ethel or Mr.
Mostyn. He knew Dora was a shrewd little
woman, and that he would have to be very
careful in introducing the subject of Mr.
Mostyn, or else she would be sure to reach the
central truth of his submission to her. But,
somehow, things happen for those who are
content to leave their desires to contingencies
and accidentals. The next morning he breakfasted
with the family and felt himself repaid
for his concession to Dora by the evident
pleasure their renewed affection gave his father
and mother; and though the elder Denning
made no remark in the renewed family
solidarity, Bryce anticipated many little
favors and accommodations from his father's
satisfaction.
After breakfast he sat down, lit his cigar
and waited. Both his mother and Dora had
much to tell him, and he listened, and gave
them such excellent advice that they were
compelled to regret the arrangements already
made had lacked the benefit of his counsels.
"But you had Ethel Rawdon," he said.
"I thought she was everybody rolled into
one."
"Oh, Ethel doesn't know as much as she
thinks she does," said Mrs. Denning. "I
don't agree with lots of things she advises."
"Then take my advice, mother."
"Oh, Bryce, it is the best of all."
"Bryce does not know about dress and such
things, mother. Ethel finds out what she does
not know. Bryce cannot go to modistes and
milliners with me."
"Well, Ethel does not pay as much atten-
tion as she might--she is always going somewhere
or other with that Englishman, that she
says is a relative--for my part, I doubt it."
"Oh, mother!"
"Girls will say anything, Dora, to hide a
love affair. Why does she never bring him
here to call?"
"Because I asked her not. I do not want
to make new friends, especially English ones,
now. I am so busy all day, and of course my
evenings belong to Basil."
"Yes, and there is no one to talk to me.
Ethel and the Englishman would pass an hour
or two very nicely, and your father is very
fond of foreigners. I think you ought to ask
Ethel to introduce him to us; then we could
have a little dinner for him and invite him to
our opera box--don't you agree with me,
Bryce?"
"If Dora does. Of course, at this time,
Dora's wishes and engagements are the most
important. I have seen the young man at the
club with Shaw McLaren and about town with
Judge Rawdon and others. He seems a nice
little fellow. Jack Lacy wanted to introduce
me to him yesterday, but I told him I could
live without the honor. Of course, if Dora
feels like having him here that is a very dif-
ferent matter. He is certainly distinguished
looking, and would give an air to the wedding."
"Is he handsome, Bryce?"
"Yes--and no. Women would rave about
him; men would think him finical and dandified.
He looks as if he were the happiest fellow
in the world--in fact, he looked to me so
provokingly happy that I disliked him; but
now that Dodo is my little sister again, I can
be happy enough to envy no one."
Then Dora slipped her hand into her brother's
hand, and Bryce knew that he might
take his way to his little office in William
Street, the advent of Mr. Mostyn into his life
being now as certain as anything in this
questionable, fluctuating world could be. As he
was sauntering down the avenue he met Ethel
and he turned and walked back with her to
the Denning house. He was so good-natured
and so good-humored that Ethel could not
avoid an inquisitive look at the usually glum
young man, and he caught it with a laugh and
said, "I suppose you wonder what is the matter
with me, Miss Rawdon?"
"You look more than usually happy. If I
suppose you have found a wife or a fortune,
shall I be wrong?"
"You come near the truth; I have found a
sister. Do you know I am very fond of Dora
and we have made up our quarrel?"
Then Ethel looked at him again. She did
not believe him. She was sure that Dora was
not the only evoker of the unbounded satisfaction
in Bryce Denning's face and manner.
But she let the reason pass; she had no likely
arguments to use against it. And that day
Mrs. Denning, with a slight air of injury,
opened the subject of Mr. Mostyn's introduction
to them. She thought Ethel had hardly
treated the Dennings fairly. Everyone was
wondering they had not met him. Of course,
she knew they were not aristocrats and she
supposed Ethel was ashamed of them, but, for
her part, she thought they were as good as
most people, and if it came to money, they
could put down dollar for dollar with any
multi-millionaire in America, or England
either, for that matter.
When the reproach took this tone there
seemed to be only one thing for Ethel to say or
to do; but that one thing was exactly what she
did not say or do. She took up Mrs. Denning's
reproach and complained that "her
relative and friend had been purposely and
definitely ignored. Dora had told her plainly
she did not wish to make Mr. Mostyn's
acquaintance; and, in accord with this feeling,
no one in the Denning family had called on
Mr. Mostyn, or shown him the least courtesy.
She thought the whole Rawdon family had
the best of reasons for feeling hurt at the
neglect."
This view of the case had not entered Mrs.
Denning's mind. She was quickly sorry and
apologetic for Dora's selfishness and her own
thoughtlessness, and Ethel was not difficult to
pacify. There was then no duty so imperative
as the arrangement of a little dinner for
Mr. Mostyn. "We will make it quite a family
affair," said Mrs. Denning, "then we can
go to the opera afterwards. Shall I call on
Mr. Mostyn at the Holland House?" she
asked anxiously.
"I will ask Bryce to call," said Dora.
"Bryce will do anything to please me now,
mother."
In this way, Bryce Denning's desires were
all arranged for him, and that evening Dora
made her request. Bryce heard it with a pronounced
pout of his lips, but finally told Dora
she was "irresistible," and as his time for
pleasing her was nearly out, he would even
call on the Englishman at her request.
"Mind!" he added, "I think he is as proud
as Lucifer, and I may get nothing for my civility
but the excuse of a previous engagement."
But Bryce Denning expected much more
than this, and he got all that he expected.
The young men had a common ground to meet
on, and they quickly became as intimate as
ever Frederick Mostyn permitted himself to
be with a stranger. Bryce could hardly help
catching enthusiasm from Mostyn on the subject
of New York, and he was able to show
his new acquaintance phases of life in the
marvelous city which were of the greatest
interest to the inquisitive Yorkshire squire--
Chinese theaters and opium dives; German,
Italian, Spanish, Jewish, French cities sheltering
themselves within the great arms of the
great American city; queer restaurants, where
he could eat of the national dishes of every
civilized country under the sun; places of
amusement, legal and illegal, and the vast
under side of the evident life--all the uncared
for toiling of the thousands who work through
the midnight hours. In these excursions the
young men became in a way familiar, though
neither of them ever told the other the real
feelings of their hearts or the real aim of
their lives.
The proposed dinner took place ten days
after its suggestion. There was nothing remarkable
in the function itself; all millionaires
have the same delicacies and the same
wines, and serve these things with precisely
the same ceremonies. And, as a general thing,
the company follow rigidly ordained laws of
conversation. Stories about public people, remarks
about the weather and the opera, are in
order; but original ideas or decided opinions
are unpardonable social errors. Yet even
these commonplace events may contain some
element that shall unexpectedly cut a life in
two, and so change its aims and desires as to
virtually create a new character. It was Frederick
Mostyn who in this instance underwent
this great personal change; a change totally
unexpected and for which he was absolutely
unprepared. For the people gathered in Mrs.
Denning's drawing-room were mostly known
to him, and the exceptions did not appear to
possess any remarkable traits, except Basil
Stanhope, who stood thoughtfully at a window,
his pale, lofty beauty wearing an air of
expectation. Mostyn decided that he was naturally
impatient for the presence of his
fiancee, whose delayed entrance he perceived
was also annoying Ethel. Then there was a
slight movement, a sudden silence, and Mostyn
saw Stanhope's face flush and turn magically
radiant. Mechanically he followed his
movement and the next moment his eyes
met Fate, and Love slipped in between.
Dora was there, a fairy-like vision in pale
amber draperies, softened with silk lace. Diamonds
were in her wonderfully waved hair
and round her fair white neck. They clasped
her belt and adorned the instep of her little
amber silk slippers. She held a yellow rose
in her hand, and yellow rosebuds lay among
the lace at her bosom, and Mostyn, stupefied
by her undreamed-of loveliness, saw golden
emanations from the clear pallor of her face.
He felt for a moment or two as if he should
certainly faint; only by a miracle of stubborn
will did he drag his consciousness from that
golden-tinted, sparkling haze of beauty which
had smitten him like an enchantment. Then
the girl was looking at him with her soft,
dark, gazelle eyes; she was even speaking to
him, but what she said, or what reply he made,
he could never by any means remember. Miss
Bayard was to be his companion, and with
some effort and a few indistinct words he gave
her his arm. She asked if he was ill, and when
a shake of the head answered the query, she
covered the few minutes of his disconcertion
with her conversation. He looked at her
gratefully and gathered his personality together.
For Love had come to him like a two-
edged sword, dividing the flesh and the spirit,
and he longed to cry aloud and relieve the
sweet torture of the possession.
Reaction, however, came quickly, and with
it a wonderful access of all his powers. The
sweet, strong wine of Love went to his brain
like celestial nectar. All the witty, amusing
things he had ever heard came trooping into
his memory, and the dinner was long delayed
by his fine humor, his pleasant anecdotes, and
the laughing thoughts which others caught up
and illustrated in their own way.
It was a feast full of good things, but its
spirit was not able to bear transition. The
company scattered quickly when it was over
to the opera or theater or to the rest of a quiet
evening at home, for at the end enthusiasm
of any kind has a chilling effect on the feelings.
None of the party understood this result,
and yet all were, in their way, affected
by the sudden fall of mental temperature.
Mr. Denning went to his library and took out
his private ledger, a penitential sort of reading
which he relished after moods of any kind
of enjoyment. Mrs. Denning selected Ethel
Rawdon for her text of disillusion. She
"thought Ethel had been a little jealous of
Dora's dress," and Dora said, "It was one
of her surprises, and Ethel thought she
ought to know everything." "You are too
obedient to Ethel," continued Mrs. Denning
and Dora looked with a charming demureness
at her lover, and said, "She had to be
obedient to some one wiser than herself," and
so slipped her hand into Basil's hand. And
he understood the promise, and with a look
of passionate affection raised the little
jeweled pledge and kissed it.
Perhaps no one was more affected by this
chill, critical after-hour than Miss Bayard
and Ethel. Mostyn accompanied them home,
but he was depressed, and his courtesy had
the air of an obligation. He said he had a
sudden headache, and was not sorry when the
ladies bid him "good night" on the threshold.
Indeed, he felt that he must have refused
any invitation to lengthen out the
hours with them or anybody. He wanted
one thing, and he wanted that with all his
soul--solitude, that he might fill it with
images of Dora, and with passionate promises
that either by fair means or by foul, by
right or by wrong, he would win the bewitching
woman for his wife.