People's Pilot, Volume 2, Number 27, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 December 1892 — AMERICAN PUSH. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AMERICAN PUSH.

By EDGAR FAWCETT.

WL (gPVRiGHT 189! w B* the Author? aluanca.

CHAPTER Vll.—Continued. "Oh! f am quite capable of it, I as*ure you," said Eric. “I’ll get the princess to poison you. Still, no, on second ■thought, I can’t. She’s entirely too strong * hater of our transatlantic republic. If I talked with her about that Borgian Burgundy for you, she would be certain to snub me for wishing to give you so old-world and aristocratic an extinction.” The princess, though much more prosaic than a Borgia, had already contrived to make her son's little court a nest of discontentments. Her severities, her arraigning edicts, had bathed in gloom all the merry abandon of Clarimond's environment, and by the time that May touched the valley* with its tender promises, she had filled it also with feuds and bickerings. It was her wish that the hotels adjacent to the springs should be closed permanently, but on this point the king showed firm ■disfavor. "The waters are wonderfully healing,” he said. "Let those who choose come and drink of them.” “Bah!” said his mother. ‘*My dear Clarimond, yon cheapen your charming little kingdom. And then those unspeakable Americans!” "Unspeakable, indeed,” said the king, "In occasional instances.” “What do you mean?” asked the princess, with a start.

“I mean the enchanting young American lady of whom I caught a glimpse last Ipvening,” he replied. “I’ve not yet found out her name, but Eric has promised to get it for me. Perhaps Lispenard might know her, but as you are probably aware, he is now in Munich.” The princess gnawed her nether lip *nd said nothing. Her son’s civilities to Bianca d’ Este had not been half as accentuated of late as she desired them to be. The name of this enchanting young American lady, in whom the king -ound himself uncommonly interested, was Kathleen Kennaird. On the morrow Eric Tliaxter made that discovery and at once imparted it to Clarimond. For some reason Eric refrained from mentioning the former relations between Kathleen and his absent friend. All i Jhe time, however, he was telling himself that it was a very small world, and wondering if Alonzo would not agree with him to this effect when he returned from Munich. “1 should like greatly to know that -girl*” the king said to Eric a day or two later. “Her face somehow haunts me. Do what ybu can about it, won’t you?” If Mrs. Kennaird had heard those words from the royal lips it is certain that her heart would have given a very lofty leap indeed.

CHAPTER VIIL The truth was that Kathleen’s mother had brought her to Saltravia with a most ambitious motive. After leaving Stuttgardt they had been living for several months in Dresden, and there she had heard tilings concerning Clarimond which made it seem at least conceivable that a splendid event might crown past disappointments and chagrins. Poor Kathleen, whose health had somewhat failed of late, did not dream of the audacity which underlay her mother’s proposal that they should visit the Saltravian springs. They had hardly been there three days at the hotel when Clarimond, strolling one evening, just at sunset, passed the casino, saw Kathleen, and was struck by her peculiar loveliness. The princess detested his democratic way of exhibiting himself, as she called it, and more than once implored him not to appear thus publicly. Hut the king had no idea- of hedging himself with his own divinity. He had long ago formed the habit of going and coining like a private gentleman, and, though the stares of the crowd did not precisely please him, they were less of a ho re than would have been compulsory self-immurement Mrs. Kennaird was quickly plunged into an ecstasy by his evident admiration of Kathleen. “1 do wish one could know him,” she said to her daughter. “Did you notice .. ‘-how he looked at you, my dear?” “No, ’’ said Kathleen. “It seemed to <me that ne looked at everybody equally, and in the most amiable manner.” “They say,” continued Mrs. Kennaird, 'Hhat he is wonderfully amiable for a 'king. And he certainly is very handsome; don’t you think so?" “I think him very distinguished.” Kathleen’s eyes glistened as she added: “There’s a picturesqueness about him that corresponds perfectly with this lovely land he rules. He interests me very greatly. I don’t mean so much be- • cause of his royalty as of the artistic 'atmosphere in which he seems to dwell; though one must allow each its attractive force.” “His being royal is hardly an objection, I should say,” remarked Mrs. Kennaird. “One can endure it. At least I can—that is in a son-in-law." And she laughed a-sort of tinkling little laugh. “Mamma! Good heavensl What are you saying?” As she spoke, Kathleen flushed to her temples and then grew .colorless. They had left the casino and had •reached a somewhat lonely spot, where

at a distance you could see the pale marvels of the palace towering with itn innumerable spires, turret* and crenelations above the bounteous verdure of the dark-green champaign. Between masses of spicy-scented hemlocks flashed and plashed a cascade, and so strong was the afternoon breeze that it blew little spray-laden gusts from the foamy and tumbling turbulence of water. Mother and child were not wholly alone, as it chanced, and Mrs. Kennaird, with a look to right and left as though an ambushed listener were possible, if not just a likelihood, suddenly said: “I’m not dealing in such fairy drcaAs my dear, after all." And then she let her hand rest on the girl’s arm. steadily and meaningly pressing it “Mamma! mamma! Even if I cared to marry anyone, I —” “You shall not sacrifice your life to that ruffian. Kathleen. For this is what he had been to us both. I shall never be happy until I sap you married happily —and brilliantly, too. Of course King Clarimond would be a glorious triumph for you. I’ve dared to dream of such an event Yes, Kathleen, 1 actually have. And there are strong reasons, my dear, why I should so have dreamed. Yon remember that Mrs. Winslow in Dresden —that bright little Boston woman with the lemon-colored eyebrows- who gave us our letter to the Jemingnams here? Well, it waa she who first roused in ine my daring idea. She looked at you on the evening that we dined with her. and murmured to me that you had the air of a queen, because your manner was at once so grand and so simple, and then (this she said in the frankest yet most abrupt fashion,as if it wereonly an afterthought), because you. were so entirely, so exceptionally handsome Before that the voluble little creature had been speaking of the king of Saltravia. She had told me that his hatred of morganatic marriages had given offense to some of the haughtiest nobles of Europe, and that he had refused to receive a certain princely cousin of his on account of having contracted such an ah" liance. Then she said other things concerning Clarimond; she spoke of his intense democracy, of his rumored assertion that he meant to marry the woman he loved, even though she were bom a peasant; and lastly of his well-known regard for America and the American people. This, my dear, was the secret of my having brought you here. You see, I’m making a clean breast of it to you now. Don’t stare at me in that amazed manner. You act as if you’d just heard an explosion of dynamite.” “I have, mamma—and a rather loud one.” Mrs. Kennaird drew herself up and gave several short nods. “Kathleen, stranger things have happened. And if there’s a woman living who could bring about such a development I believe that I am she.”

They had reached a small rustic seat, within a thicket of laurels whence rose a bust in granite of Pouslikin, the famed Russian poet. Kathleen sank into tho seat almost exhausted, heaving a quick sudden sigh, while her mother stood beside her, a presence of extreme stateliness and distinction. “Are you Ured, my dear, so soon?” she asked. Kathleen looked up at her with a cold, fatigued smile. “You’ve wearied me beyond expression,” she answered. “My child!” “Oh, mamma, it’s true! You know that I loved him, and that I love him still! To you it may sound senseless jßiough, but he is more to me than a whole dynasty of kings! And then for you to torment me by this new folly! As ff you had not already made me go through enough! As if I were not the butt and jeer of hundreds of people at this very hour! Surely you might have some mercy after what you dragged me through in London!”

“Kathleen! Kathleenl This is atrocious!” “It is indeedt” cried the girl, and without another word she sprang to her feet and hurried away, leaving her mother to gaze at her Sgure as it retreated among the fringy frondage of the hemlocks. Well though she believed that she knew Kathleen, Mrs. Kennaird had not a doubt that the actual success of her new and most characteristic design would win from her child the gladdest sort of acquiescence. There are some natures that can no more conceive of others really refusing certain positive worldly gains when the chance comes for palpably grasping them than a man bom color blind can conceive of the lights and shade in a canvas by Rousseau or Daubigny. If it was fated that this extraordinary, this unprecedented young king should fall in love with her daugh* ter, his nuptial path would of course be one strewn with roses. As if any woman could or would refuse to become a queen. Kathleen was capable of odd behavior, beyond a doubt; but even her worst vagaries must end at the bounds of lunacy. That afternoon the Kennairds had received an invitation to go and drink tea at the Jemingham’s villa. They had not yet met the Jeminghams, though brother and sister had both left cards upon herself and Kathleen a few days ago, finding them absent from the hotel. When Mrs. Kennaird again saw her daughter she refused to pay the proposed visit. “Say that I am unwell, mamma,” was Kathleen’s announcement. “Say anything yon please. I shall not go." “But you must, my dear. They are nos people to treat rudely, although I have learned since we have been at the hotel that they are exclusively in the foreign set and that neither the king nor any of his court honor their entertainments. It seems that Mr. .Timing, ham has made himself unpopular in Saltravia. *He has quarreled with the king’s favorite friend, the architect who built for him that superb marble palace —a person named Mr. Eric Thaxter, an American, and—” “Eric Thaxter?” broke in Kathleen, “I remember that name. Where have I heard it?" “Really I don’t know, my dear. Perhaps during your London days. He can’t be anyone of the least importance in New York, though 1 am told that he

originally oelungcd there. He U of great importance here, however, he is a sort of power behind the throne. The king is devoted to him. I must manage to meet him. Poor, dear, gouty old Mrs. Madison lias promised to present Urn soon. One sees him now and then at the Casino, she tells me, and not seldom in the company of the king him- ' self He has the entree into the very most difficult Saltravian houses. In- | deed, why not, since that charming Clarimond deigns to be his friend? You will change your mind about the Jemmgharas, my dear, will you not?" “No,” replied Kathleen, with much firmness- Then she looked *at her mother very fixedly, and pursued: “Now, mamma, let ohe thing be clearly understood between you and me. Ido not wish to go at all into society while we are in Saltravia. Wccame here for the waters —at leant I did, if you did not. It is late in the day for me to try and impress upon you that my social life has ended. You must have seen that in Dresden! And as for a certain idea of yours, I can only say that it would be painful to mo beyond words—painful and mortifying in the estreme —were it not so stroDgly flavored with an element of wild absurdity.” Mrs. Kennaird attempted no further persuasions. “Let me achieve her presentation to the king,’’ she mused, “and this nonsensical desire for secluding herself will vanish like one of tho Saltravian morning mists.” And while she robed her stately figure, that afternoon, in the most becoming gown that her limited wardrobe possessed, the new yearning cheered her spirit as an elixir-like cordial warms the blood. Because an aim was dazzling, even dizsying, should it for that reason be deserted? Ah, to think of the exquisite victory it would mean! How that horrible marchioness of Dendudlow would writhe when she heard of it! To be the mother of a queen! There was something splendidly distinctive in the very boldness of the project. The fact that aa effort like this teemed with novelty and daring was no sign that it would prove a failure. After all, so much depended on Kathleen’s powers of fascination, and these were immense. Then, too, was she not just American enough to be called an American girl, and was not this the next remarkable and stirring act for the American girl to commit? Margaretta Kennaird surveyed herself in the dressing mirror as she donned her bonnet, and thought how the matronly symmetries of her figure would grace a court. And then to have her portrait painted by some famous European artist and hung in the palace as that of the “queen’s mother!” Perhaps several centuries after her death it would hang there. And for several centuries, no doubt, they would recollect her great accomplishment over seas in New York, whence her stock had sprung. Everybody who could claim the faintest relationship with her would do so. 4 Queen Kathleen” would rate for them as an ancestress worth having; that humiliating Dendudlow affair would be mercifully hidden (why not?) by the capacious mantle of history itself. “Queen Kathleen!” What a delightful sound it had! “Clarimond and Kathleen!” There was not as much real honeyed romanticism in even “Romeo and Juliette!”

It must be confessed that meditations of this kind produced an intoxicating effect upon this most curious of American “aristocrats.” Her state of mind was almost an agitated one by the time that a short stroll had brought her to the gates of the Jerningham villa. She felt herself on the verge of society here in Saltravia, felt that to-day might prove but the quiet threshold of many beautiful morrows. There were not more than twenty guests present, and these were nearly all her own country folk. In the course of a little time she was presented to at least half of them, finding that 6he already knew a few, that she had heard of a number more, and that certain others were not by any means of a desirable type. Then it entered her shrewd mind that this set into which she had drifted was altogether the wrong set, and that if she kept Kathleen quite out of it she would be doing a most prudent act The Jerninghams, brother and sister, had evidently a great grudge against the king and his court, and it was pleasant for them to feel that their friends were of the same p,ther rancorous mind. They never spoke against Clarimond, but they hinted that he was flippant and frivolous and had all the proverbial bad faith of princes. Brother and sister were oddly alike, both being tall and slim, both having a sunken look about the cheeks and slaty-hued eyes with pink-edged lids. They both talked with a slight lisp, and in talking •used their hands with the same jerky little gestures. Neither of them often said “I,” it was always “we” with them, so that after awhile you got the impression that nothing happened singly to this devoted brother and sister, but that human experience treated them to its good and its ill in perpetual duo, as the rain and sun treat two apples ona single steam.

Harriet Jerningham made herself notably civil to Mrs. Kennaird, and •after awhile they had a private chat together amid the general babble of the little modish drawing-room. “We hear your daughter is so wonderfully beautiful, Mrs. Kennaird,” said the sister of the deposed art superintendent. “Pardon me, but we do! And it grieves me greatly to hear that she is indisposed to-day. The wafers sometimes affect people for a few days just like. that. We can’t live away from them now, though at first we thought them really quite horrid. Tfyit is why my dear brother hasn’t departed from Saltravia. I mean sinoe Mr. Eric Thaxter caused the king to treat him so cruelly. But perhaps you haven’t heard about that. No? Oh, then, I won’t bore yon with our private grievances. And yet, after all, they’ve become horribly public ever since my dear brother was ousted tma his position and that Alonzo Lispenard was made to replace him.” “Alonzo Linpenard!” broke in Mrs. Kennaird. “Is—is he in Saltravia?" “1 believe he is iq Munich now, though there ie a report that he will be

bock next week for the great royal ball at the palace. Pray, do you know him?" “Yes—yes. I’ve met him He's a—a Hew Yorker, you know." “True. I suppose you have met him In society over there—the ’Four Hundred,’ as they call it?" “Yes." said Mrs, Kennaird, feeling a little dizzy and hardly knowing just what answer left her lips. “Quite right. It—er —was in the ‘Four Hundred,’ aa yon say.” “Such a queer name, isn’t it?” babbled MissJerningham. “We can’t get used to it, you know. There was nothing of that sort when we were there.” “Oh, yes, there was,” her listener might mentally have said, “only you know nothing about it.” But Mrs Kennaird was in no mood for any such comments, whether mute or vocal. “And so this Alonzo Lispenard,” she presently faltered, “holds a position here under the king." “Oh, yes—art suptrintendent, you know. Eric Thaxter, the adored friend of Clarimond, took it ■Away from us—that is, I mean from my brother—and gave it (with the full sanction! to this Mr. Lispenard." “I see, I see,!’ •‘Pray, is it true," continued Miss Jerninghanv, "that he was engaged to a beautiful girl in New York, who jil.ed him the moment she heard he’d lost all his money?" “Really, I think it’s quite false," murmured M rs. Kennaird. She got away from the villa as soon as decent politeness would permit. The late afternoon made theexquisitely-tended and statued lawns in front of the hotel look like squares and medallions of dark green plush. From an immense Japanese pagoda that burned with os many tints as if it had been builded out of a fallen rainbow floated music made by one of the most perfect orchestras in Europe. Kathleen, in a plain dove-colored gown, without a single ornament of any kind, moved here and there amid the arabesque of box-edged paths, holding a book against one side of her bosom, aa women are wont to do. She seemed wholly unaware of the attention, even the scrutiny, which she attracted, though she was perhaps perfectly well aware of it and preferred to appear otherwise. She had known no one at the hotel on her arrival, and afterward had desired complete isolation. The new acquaintanceships into which her mother had drifted were not shared by her. She remained calmly, though not haughtily, aloof. |to be continued,]