Part 7 (1/2)
CHAPTER VI.
Mr. Wyllys was careful not to repeat his visit within a week. He could trust to the natural growth of the seed he had sown, and he was too politic to appear solicitous, on his own account, for the resumption of cousinly intercourse between the houses of Baxter and Kirke. He did not overrate his influence with the would-be leader of Hamilton society. Four days after his party call, he had a note from Jessie.
”DEAR COUSIN ORRIN:
”I enclose a letter received last night from Mrs. Baxter, wife of the President of Marion College. She is, I have learned from this, my nearest living relative, outside my immediate family circle, being my mother's first cousin. I never heard of her until the arrival of this communication. My father knew her, years ago, but did not remember whom she had married. I little imagined when I listened to Roy's praises of his friend, Dr.
Baxter, that I had any personal interest in, or connection with his family. Mrs. Baxter writes, you see, in an affectionate strain, and is urgent in her request that I should pa.s.s the winter with her. My father and sister agree with me that you are the proper person to consult with regard to my answer to the invitation. You are, doubtless, acquainted with Mrs. Baxter, and are certainly more _au fait_ to the usages of Hamilton polite society than we are.
”Tell me freely what you think I ought to do--freely as if I were in blood, as I am in heart,
”Your Kinswoman,
”JESSIE KIRKE.”
”Here is an example of hereditary transmission that would stagger Wendell Holmes himself!” thought Orrin, scanning the epistle, letter by letter. ”The chirography of the girl, who could not write at the time of her mother's death, is precisely similar to hers--as similar as it is unlike that of the sister by whom she was educated. It is a nut to crack for those who carp at the idea that the handwriting is a criterion of character, who attribute variety of penmans.h.i.+p to educational influences entirely. What has my fair 'kinswoman'
inherited from her matronal progenitor besides her features and carriage, and these sloping, slender Italian characters, I wonder?
It may be worth my while to investigate the question as a psychological phenomenon.”
To secure the facilities for doing this, he resolved to run down to Dundee the next day.
The early train he had condemned in the spring, started now before daylight, and he called himself a fool, as he took his place in the cold, smoky car, for making the journey at all. Being mortal, he was liable to these spasms of prudence and faltering of purpose, during which he held serious questioning with Common-sense--leaving feeling out of the discussion--whether he were not squandering time and thought in prosecuting his favorite pastime of winning and wasting hearts. He knew that, viewed in the dead white light of sober judgment, tested by commercial rates, his ambition to stand chief victor in Cupid's lists, would be ign.o.ble and unremunerative.
He felt that he would himself thus rate it, had he no other aim in life. Aware, as he was, that he kept step with his fellows in business pursuits, that he was intellectually the peer of those the crowd called masters, he did not let the thought of adverse criticism of his _affaires du coeur_ weigh too heavily with him.
It was easy to persuade himself that since the world's conquerors and prophets, sages, warriors, and saints, had, each in his time, esteemed the love of woman the worthiest meed of valor, learning, and piety; had fought, gone mad, and made s.h.i.+pwreck of faith, to gain and wear the prize, leaving upon record the aspiration ”to waste life upon her perfect lips,” alongside of heroic epics and religious meditations,--his researches and successes in this field of art,--the mining and delving and polis.h.i.+ng that attended his explorations among the curiosities of woman's affections and follies--were lawful and dignified, and should ent.i.tle him to an honorable grade in the school of philosophers.
Apart from these cold-blooded considerations (a man flirt is always more cold-blooded than a woman--coquetry and the desire to conquer hearts being oftener a pa.s.sion with the latter than a deliberate plan)--apart from these I say, Orrin Wyllys was, as he would have said of himself, ”not a bad fellow.” He liked to give pleasure, to be useful to his kind, to be thanked and praised for his benefactions.
Finding myself, once upon a time, in the actual presence and in social converse with one of the brightest of modern (American) stars--a man I had reverenced afar off, as a mental and moral monarch among mortals, I was disenchanted and appalled at hearing him say something like this:
”I have no patience with this talk about finding one's truest happiness in promoting that of others. I believe that man is best employed who makes the most and best of HIMSELF! My business in life is to improve Myself by every means at my command--to make Myself, spiritually and intellectually, 'round and perfect as a star,'
without diverting my energies and wasting my sympathies with projects for the good of my race. This is my idea of true philanthropy.”
”And the rest of mankind may go hang!” said a plain-spoken auditor.
The Star shrugged his broad shoulders.
”_Ce n'est pas mon affaire!_”
This was, substantially, Orrin's creed, but he had his own notions as to the manner in which the cultivation of Self was to be conducted, and being still some degrees below the exalted plane of observation occupied by the aforesaid Star, was not superior to the weakness of talking about philanthropy, even believing himself that he did good for good's sake, and that his satisfaction in seeing others made happy through his instrumentality, was pure benevolence.
His charities were many--and open. Indeed, Lady Patronesses shook their heads, smilingly, at him while deprecating his ”soft-hearted credulity” and lauding his generosity, and his name was a synonym among men for good-nature and lenient judgment.
Therefore, when he muttered--”Just like my confounded amiability, this taking so much pains to benefit those who may never appreciate my motives, nor be grateful for what I have done!” as he b.u.t.toned his overcoat up to his chin and pulled on his fur-lined gloves, he half believed that he spoke sincerely--went systematically to work to arrange his projects with the best side toward him; found substantial comfort in so doing.
Roy had left his affianced to his guardians.h.i.+p, and her action at this juncture might be fraught with important consequences to her and to Roy himself. He could allay Mr. Kirke's scruples, if he had any, relative to his daughter's acceptance of Mrs. Baxter's pressing offer of hospitality and chaperonage, better in five minutes' talk than by twenty written pages. He was anxious that Jessie should pay the visit. She had taken a strong hold of his fancy, and he could study her to advantage while she was her cousin's guest; be her cavalier wherever she went, by virtue of the authority vested in him by her absent betrothed. Hamilton was dull this season. There was not a woman in it whom he had not read from preface to ”Finis”--and his energies were chafing for lack of exercise in his n.o.ble vocation. The prospect of Jessie's coming--the high-spirited child of nature, lively and loving, was very tempting.
But this was, he perceived, a digression, and he hastened to regain the original line of thought. His scheme--which Mrs. Baxter must be suffered to believe was her's, instead--of giving the country clergyman's daughter a season in town, was a golden opportunity of improvement of her mind and manners that should not be lightly cast aside. She had, more than once, confidentially bemoaned her inability to procure in Dundee the tuition in music and German she fancied she needed to qualify her to fill worthily the station to which Roy had elected her.
The reader of human nature smiled a little just here.