Part 16 (1/2)
I'm off to bed. I suppose you and Maggie will talk here for three hours yet;” and George retired with a stretch and a yawn.
When they were alone, Mrs. Gildersleeve touched on the topic nearest to her brother-in-law's heart. It was done in the light of an apology. She said: ”In one of my letters, I am ashamed to say, I spoke censoriously and unjustly of Miss Heath, and I wish to take it all back; but it shows how particular we ought to be not to judge hastily. Miss Heath, I suppose you know, has come into her property, and her first thought and care is to carry out her father's intentions about building those charitable inst.i.tutions. It will cost ever so much. I believe Mr. Mumbie tried to prevent or rather persuade her not to lay out so much money, but she wouldn't listen to it; and they say is even going to spend more; but that's just like Edna Heath.”
How intensely the colonel's heart indorsed that opinion. ”Where is she now?” he inquired.
”She's living in New York, with the Mumbies. You must certainly pay her a visit, and renew your old acquaintance. Mr. Mumbie sold out his paper-mill, and has retired from business.”
An hour or more of such conversation and Mark withdrew, to find himself again in his little bedroom. Nothing was disturbed. There was his bookcase with its narrow desk, where he had pa.s.sed so many hours in brain-racking devotions to the immortal Nine; and as he glanced over the turgid lines of some uncompleted poem in the portfolio, his smile justified the belief that time brought its own severe criticism to poetasters. There lay in their accustomed places his guitar and zithern, and over his bed-head hung, as of yore, the engraving of Carlo Dolce's _Mater Dolorosa_, whose exquisite mouth and chin were but counterparts of Edna's. It was so natural to lie in the bed where he had slept since childhood; and he seemed to breathe such an atmosphere of peace and quietude, that the tremendous events he had pa.s.sed through during three years, seemed like a hiatus in his life, or a dream. Did the war exist?
Here, all was tranquillity undisturbed by alarms; but away on the banks of the Appomattox, his brethren in arms slept in suspense; the vigilant picket watched the wily foe; the bursting sh.e.l.l tore the limbs of some sleeping soldier, and starving conscripts, in b.u.t.ternut rags, were flying from the rebel trenches to hospitable imprisonment within the Union lines. Such thoughts filled Mark's mind as he tossed uneasily on his downy couch and soft fringed pillow, until, to court slumber, he was obliged to wrap himself in a blanket, and seek repose on the hard floor.
The next morning, in his impatience to see Edna, he would have started at once for the metropolis, but there were his old a.s.sociates at the Works, who could not be neglected. He went there, and shook hands with them all, from Knatchbull to the youngest apprentice. How they all crowded around and questioned him, and seemed to be as much interested in him as if he belonged to them, while his brother stood by with an approving look, as if the colonel were entirely the product of his care and training. Mark found the Works still further enlarged; for his brother's business had increased prodigiously, and George, while alluding to this, did not fail to remark to the colonel, with a spice of malice, that if he had remained at home and accepted the partners.h.i.+p, he would by this time have possessed a small fortune. ”A clear hundred thousand were the profits last year--a clear hundred thousand. What do you think of that, old man?” But the old man, as he affectionately called him, did not seem to think much about it, for he merely replied, ”Glad to hear of it for your sake,” and seemed as indifferent as ever to such favors. George then said, as a consolatory offset, ”Whenever you want to come back, you're welcome. Your old place is waiting for you, and it will pay you better than soldiering in the end.”
Then there was the visit to the Falls. No true Beltonian returning from a long absence ever failed to pay his devoirs at that shrine. It seemed as if the old legend of the Indians, that the Great Spirit abided there, had perpetuated itself, and found believers among their white successors. Mark pa.s.sed an hour of the fine January fore-noon in pleasant contemplation near the cataract. It was an old friend. Its roar, its crags, its emerald waters were familiar to him from childhood, when he spent holidays around the pebbly sh.o.r.es seeking flint arrow-heads, or in older years when he resorted thither to derive inspiration and metaphorically court the nymphs and dryads. The torrent that sped on in sublime and unceasing monotone had measured his existence like a clepsydra.
Mark extended his walk to the cliff--to the villa that had seemed to him a very palace of enchantment, and around which so many blissful a.s.sociations cl.u.s.tered. Here was the spot where he had made his first avowal of love, and he could almost recall the novel, delicious thrill with which he pressed Edna's hand to his lips. Now the gates were chained and locked, and their lamps broken by vagrant boys; the lodge was tenantless; the marble basin of the fountain choked with dead leaves, and its spouting swans decapitated; the grounds neglected, and the windows of the imposing structure blinded. How sad and deserted an aspect! How changed the place--once the abode of ”elegant Eunomia,” the G.o.ddess of his dreams! He remembered his surrept.i.tious visit and eavesdropping the night of Edna's party. Where were all that youth and beauty now? The sweeping wind answered with a dismal sigh. Was there any omen in this?
His reverie was cut short by the patter of horses' hoofs behind him. It was the four-in-hand of Mr. Nehemiah Gogglemush, a new-comer in Belton, who saluted him with a stare. This man, who seemed ambitious to succeed to the position of the late magnifico, was the inventor of the world-famous ”Terpsich.o.r.ean Ointment,” a corn-salve of marvellous virtue, that had brought him a fortune correspondingly marvellous. He had purchased a site on the cliff and reared a gorgeous pile, all turrets, gilt Tudor-flowers and weatherc.o.c.ks, which completely overshadowed Mr. Mumbie's dwelling. Gogglemush seemed to have no end of money and actually dared to set up a drag, while his wife and daughters made shameful exhibitions of themselves in diamonds, point-lace, India shawls; and deported themselves generally in a way that no person in their station, and connected with corn-salve, who had any regard for public opinion, would venture to. Moreover, at church the Misses Adela and Angela Gogglemush, in all their odious finery, monopolized the attention of the congregation, and even the rector was reported to be not indifferent to the attractions of the younger of the two.
Of course it was impossible for the Mumbies to live in constant proximity to such vulgarity, and especially as there was absolutely no one now in the place, except Judge Hull's family, with whom they could a.s.sociate, as Mrs. Mumbie said, they had been forced to remove to New York.
On his return Mark stopped for a moment at St. Jude's. The s.e.xton wanted to show him the beautiful memorial windows, presented by Miss Heath in honor of her father and mother. Mark peopled the edifice with its old frequenters--with handsome, refined Mr. Heath, dignifiedly condescending, as if he were willing to meet his Maker half way; with Edna's sweet, uplifted, attentive profile; devout, slow-winking Mrs.
Applegate, and in the opposite pew, pompous Mr. Mumbie, who occupied one corner with such upright, unvarying exact.i.tude, that he served as a sundial to Mark to measure the service, when the purple ray from a lancet-window moved over the capacious white waistcoat of the portly paper-maker. The new-comers had taken possession of that pew now, for Mark saw in it several richly bound octavo prayer-books, stamped with the name Gogglemush, hideous in Gothic text.
Mark now proceeded to call on Dr. Wattletop. The information in regard to the latter's pecuniary condition, imparted by Mrs. Gildersleeve, troubled her brother-in-law, and he was anxious to offer any a.s.sistance that the physician was likely to accept; but when the colonel, after much hesitation and circ.u.mlocution, hinted at his desire, Dr. Wattletop cut him short with a ”Thanks--thanks, my dear boy, I'm quite easy. You must know that Miss Heath has requested me to accept, at a handsome salary, the position of physician-in-chief to the hospital she is erecting for the county. n.o.ble girl, that--though I don't know after all that she's doing any more than her duty,” he hastened to add, fearing that he might have been betrayed into admiration or approval of generosity. ”The world, though, is so const.i.tuted, so warped from all ideas of justice, that the mere performance of a single act of duty is greeted with applause. Sad commentary, that. Pokemore is a.s.sociated with me in the management. There was an effort made to foist this humbug Keene upon us. But Pokemore and I at once declared that we would not listen to it, and should consider it an insult and resign at once if this ignoramus and quack were attached in any way to the inst.i.tution. We carried our point, of course.”
Mark reflected on this instance of inconsistency in the doctor. Tolerant and unprejudiced he was towards every system and opinion save one--the one that attacked his professional judgment, and therefore self-love.
The doctor had grown garrulous with age, and gave Mark a long and circ.u.mstantial account of the illness and last hours of Dagon; and then branched off into the exposition of some of his theories respecting future existence. All this was listened to with respectful impatience by the colonel, who was eager to return home and prepare himself to take the afternoon train to New York. He was disappointed in this intention, for he found himself obliged to attend a little tea-party that evening, given by Mrs. Sniffen in honor of his return.
XIX.
The next day Mark arrived in New York. He alighted at the ”Albemarle”
and proceeded at once to make himself as presentable as his worn uniform would permit, and after a deal of brus.h.i.+ng came out almost as smart-looking as a West Point cadet. As the time for the longed-for meeting neared, an unaccountable timidity seized him, and it required more s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up of his courage to ring the door-bell of Mr. Mumbie's house, than it would to have made him charge a battery. The new residence of the Mumbies was one of those extravagant structures that line the Fifth Avenue, and costly enough to be the domicil of a duke.
Mark asked to see Miss Heath. The domestic who answered his ring replied that he did not know whether she were in or not, but would go and see--would the gentleman give his name?
Mark sent up a card and the servant returned with a ”not at home.”
When would she be in?
Servant couldn't tell--uncertain--didn't know.
The colonel went away, found some brother officers at the hotel, and dined with them. Afterwards he returned to Mr. Mumbie's, but met with no better success; Miss Heath was still ”not at home.” Disappointed again, Mark returned to his hotel and retired to his room to smoke in gloomy meditation and solitude. He was debating upon the propriety of calling again that day, when his privacy was invaded by one of the officers he had dined with. Being an old comrade of the colonel, he burst in unceremoniously, ”Where the devil have you been, Gildersleeve? I've been looking all over for you the past two hours. Want to see you badly.
What's the matter, old boy; you look awfully down in the mouth. Not sick, I hope? Here, rouse up; I've got an invite for you to a grand s.h.i.+ne to-night. It's a big blow-out, and we'll have some fun.”
Mark drew from its envelope an engraved card imparting the information that the pleasure of his company was requested by Mrs. Van Spuytenduyvel at No. ---- Madison Square, on that evening.