Rensselaer Republican, Volume 21, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 November 1888 — FITZHERBERT. [ARTICLE]

FITZHERBERT.

My name is John Smith —plain Smith, without change or addition of vowel — and I was in no way discontented with it till 1 fell in love with Katie Rogers. Katie had never sneered at it, but her older sister, Miranda, Lad more than once hinted that it was neither romantic nor uncommon; and her father, in his somewhat lengthy discourses about the British aristocracy, had an aggravating way of looking apologetically at ine every time he spoke of “a good name.” In our commercial community Smith was counted a better name than Rogers, and young Smith, the rising cotton broker, a more distinguished member of society than old Rogers, ex-captain of dragoons, who could scarcely pay his £3O rent and never wore a decent hat. I quite agreed with my neighbors on these points till I fell in love with Katie and grew familiar with Miranda’s sentiments about -‘the ignorance of Philistine Riverbank." Captain Rogers was descended from Fitzroger, who came over with the Conqueror, and as I listened reverently to the history of the family progress through sight centuries, there was a total collapse of my once foolish pride in belonging to what a local paper called “one of the oldest families in Riverbank." For Riverbank was scarcely as old as mv father, having grown into a town with a qpeed rarely equalled on this bide of the Atlantic. In a general way I do not undervalue myself but it was with a deep sense of humility that I emplored thg descendant of Fitsroger to become my father-in-law. We were alone together in the dining room of the thirty pound house, he sitting in a shabby arm chair, I standingon a still shabbier hearthrug. He looked up at the “Battle Roll of Hastings," which hung over the mantelpiee#, and down at the fire,' kept low by economical Miranda. Then, having weighed the past glories of Fitzroger against tbepres-

ent price of coals, he accepted my proposal with the magnificent condescension of a king consenting, for certain state reasons, to bestow the hand of a royal princess on an aspiringsubject. So Katie and I were engaged, and fora time I was supremely happy. I was not quite vain enough to share my darling’s opinion that I, John Smith, was better worth worshipping than all Carlyle’s “Heroes” put together; but I was rather easily convinced that I was far too fine a went on a visit to London there was no bitterness in my regret, for I believed in her and myself. At first I was not disturbed by Miranda’s boasts about the advantages her sister was enjoying in “toe best society,” but when the London visit extended for week? and months beyond its original limit I began to feel vaguely uneasy. In those days Katie’s letters, though loving, were not long, and sh? more than once apologized Tor their brevity ny pleading “a particular engagement,” the nature _of which 6he never explained. My confidence sank, my jealousy arose. At last she came home, and then I noticed a change in her that seriously alarmed me. She was paler and quieter, and at t'mes there was a wistful loqk in her eyes, suggeltiveof something-in her mind. It could nbt'be anxiety about her father’s pecuniary affairs, because about that tim* he appeared in a new hat, and Miranda kept better fires. These Outward 'and visible signs Of

prosperity would have given me Bincere pleasure if it had not been for the suspicion that old Rogers was more than ever disposed to talk Norman Conqu*. w tone with me, and for the certainty thi. 1 Miranda’s sneers at ‘‘people who could not count their grandfathers’’ were all for my benefit. What did this sort of thing mean? Had Katie been tempted away from me by a lover with a longer pedigree? Would Rogers tell me some day, like the father in old-fashioned romance, that he had “other views” for his daughter? usual, having been detained by animportant business matter in the neighboring city of Shipley. The outer door of the house was open, and I, in my usual 1 way, turned the handle of the vestibule door and walked into the drawing room, going to. ring the bell for the servant, when I heard a pleading little voice behind me: . ‘ “Oh, I say, Jack, don’t do that!” , It was the voice of Bob, the youngest of Katie’s many young brothers,' and, turning sharply round, I saw his scared little face peeping between the curtains drawn across the bow window. ■ .

“Come here, dear old Jack.” he entreated; “and stay with me till she goes past” “What she?" I asked.as I stepped behind the curtains to find Bob’s hitherto Tnv A-nightgo wh»“Mirauda,” he added in a tragic whisper. ■ , Boh had blue eyes apd golden hair, and in his whi'e array he looked like an angel in a pictu e. Blit -I rightly guessed that he, had from the upper regions that night on no angelic mission. “I thought she , waA safe up in the lumber-room for the next half-hour,” he explained; “and I got out of bed and slipping down to the kitchen for a taste of the new jam. I knew it was my only chance She’s so beastly mean about it when its in pots. I just got to the hall when I heard her sneaking down stairs, so I ran in here. She’s ip the dining-room now, and I don’t know whether sht-.’s going up again or down to the kitchen.”

“Don’t be a coward, my boy,” I said, feeling it my duty to be moral. “Of course Miranda will scold i f she finds, you, but you must bear it like a man.” “Scold!” repeated Bob, with scorn in his subdued tones. “Do you think I’d care if it was only that?” «- ■ I understood the full peril of the situat oii now. Miranda prided herself on doing a mother’s duty to the motherless boys, aud I knew that whatever her liand,found to do she did it with ail her might. “And it’s just because I ain’t a coward I don’t want to meet her,” went on Bob evidently mindful of the traditions of Fitzroger valor. “You see, Jack, I could hit back if she was a man, but she ain’t, you know, and of course no fellow who is a gentleman ever hits a woman.” “Robert,” I murmured, “you are the soul of chivalry.” „ -- “Oh, shut up, Jack Smith,” And my small brother-in-law-elect held me with a desperate grip. “She’s coming in!” I peered cautiously between the heavy curtains, and caught a glimpse of Miranda’s lank form and lynx eyes. The next moment she 'was vanishing, but she stopped as Katie appeared at the door. “Kate,” she said, in her thin, sharp voice, “I was looking for you. I think you Plight help me pot the jam. Smith may not be here to-night, and if he I can tell you, my dear, that your appearance has not improved since you took "up with Fitzherbert.” I stood with freezing blood behind the curtains, wondering what awful revelation was about to wreck my life’s happiness. In a lightning flash of jealous imagination I saw Fitzherbert. ' No doubt he was one of the swells Katie had met in London. A military swell, one of those handsome, haughty guardsmen I had read about in society novels. “Mirauda,” said Katie, “don’t you think I ought to tell Jack about Fitzherbert?”

“No, I don't,” said Miranda sharply. “I don’t see why the interests of our family are to be risked in a collision with the narrow middle-class prejudices of Mr. John Smith.” Katie’s voice sounded a little weary “You know, Miranda, you were horrified yourself when I first told you about Fitzherbert’? proposal.” Miranda replied in a tone of cold superiority:, - ~ ■ , “I was more open to conviction than jrou would find Mr. John Smith. We who have been rooted in English soil |pr eight naturally take larger views of life than mushrooms of* yesterday. Besides,your conduct in this affair is justified by the example and approval of women in the best society.” What a world of whited se pulchres! I had never loved Miranda, but I had always respected her. However skeptical I might have been about her personal charms. I had never doubted her principles. Miranda taught a clast in the Sunday school, worked a district on strict Charity Organization principles and was decorated with the Order of the Blue Ribbon. Yet here was this seemingly virtuous Miranda applauding her younger sisters's falseness to a true lover, because it was the fashion of women in the best society to trample on-honest hearts

“I hate concealment,” said Katie; “and Jack is so truthful himself*- ti.at I can’t bear the idea of deceiving hiin. Gb, im' : randa, dear, I was so happy when made me the offer that I public. p-« to wonder what Jack tit “it now lam so ’ ometin es think I must give up * ei -vt.” “Rubbish!” saia Miranda, “andselfish rubbish, too. I wonder, Kate Rogers, how you can talk in that way, when ycu know how useful Fitxherbert’s money is Oh. this was tooawfnU- Katie not only false to me, but actually so mean os to take money from her new lover. I could stand it no longer. I wrenched myself from poor little Bob’s grasp, and stood sternly facing the two girls. » Miranda fled from the r6cm. Katie stood white and still. “Pray, do not give up Fitsherbert on my account,” I said, scornfully. “Do not let my vulgar prejudice in favor of truth and honesty interlere with the wider morality of the best society. Marry Fitaherbert to-morrow, if yoU like, and be as happy as you deserve to bfe.” The color rushed back into Katie’s

face. The light sparkled *in her eyes. She. actually laughed, ’ you very mudh; Jafck,” she said,, “but even with your kind permission I can’t marry Fitzherbert. The fact is,” and her blue evea danced; “Fitxherbert is married." ‘ And you dare’to tell me,” I cried in wild rage, “that you have not only aciove but money from a married man.” She looked straight in iny furious jace with h“r laughing eyes. “F’itaherbert is not a married man,” she said. “I,was never good at guessing riddles, 1 said, softly; and. as l aw. not. in the mood for them to-night, I give this one, up. If Fitzherbert is not a married man, what, in Heaven’s name, is Fitzherbert’?” ( lear came the answer in the sweet, gay. girlish voice: , “Fitzherbert is a married woman.” Then, with the crushing consciousness of having made a fool of myself, I listened humbly to Katie’s little story. “F’itzherbert is a West Find milliner, and was Aunt Clara's maid before her marriage. Her name is not really Titzherbert, but something quite ordinary, like Brown or Bmithy-oh, I beg your pardon, Jack! She was always fond of me, and I often amused myself looking through her new fasliionß. One day, while I was waiting for Aunt Clara,'•who had gone to her dentist, a fussy old lady came into the shop, and was very angry because none of the new Paris bonnets suit* d her. She was one of the best customers, and poor Fitzherbert was in despair when she was leaving the shop in a ra*re. W 11. Jack, L have quite a uenius for millinery. One of our ancestor* was a-pain ter, and Aunt Clara says I have hfe artistic eye for color and form, Anyhow, I always seem to know exactly what Suits a face. I persuaded the old lady to sit down again, and with Fitzber bert’s permission I made a feW alterations in one particular bonnet. The result was so becoming that the old lady was charmed. ‘You are a heaven-born milliner, my dear/she said. ‘Why don’t you go in for that sort of thing ? It is all the fazuion among the best people.’ Aunt Clara called for me presently, and was quite struck with the new idea. After a long talk with Fitzherbert it wag decided that I should go to the shop every day and qualify for the position of millinery aide-de-eamp. I became quite popular with the customers, especially the elderly pnes. I love old ladies and delight in making them look lovely, and some of them threatened to leave Fitzherbert unless I undertook the arrangement of their bonnets aud caps for the term of my single life. Fitzherbert offerechne very liberal pay for my assistance, and I was so glad to think ot helping poor old daddy that at first I forgot about you and your possible objection to marrying a young woman who worked for a Bhop, but. I thought of thig afterwards, and was always fighting with my conscience about telling you the truth. But, indeed, there are many lady millin ers in London, and—Oh, Jack, I see you don’t mind so very much, after all!” The precise nature of my conduct on this occasion need not be here recorded. The bridal wreath was a present from Fitzherbert.