Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 19, Number 99, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 August 1898 — WASHINGTON GOSSIP [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

WASHINGTON GOSSIP

BY-CHARLOTTE M. BRAEME.

CHAPTER 1110-(Continned.) “Your husband was a selfish man.” “Then I was a selfish woman,” returned Mrs. Drew—“you will hear. The Tory next day after my faintness at the opera he offered to leave me at home. There was a great dinner party at General Somebody’s. I could hardly believe in my good fortune. I exerted myself to be bright and lively till he had gone; then 1 went to bed. How thankful I was! It was like a reprieve! But I see now how wrong I was to give way to passing sensations of weakness. His going out alone led to his rejoining his bachelor friends, his old fast set. These reproached him with having nn invisible wife, a useless companion, as single men will rally their married friends. He assumed the character of the careless husband, the man who had made a marriage de couvenance, and had merely been keeping up appearances. Well, his boon companions took him at his word. There" were the old rac.ketings —orgies. “Then he began to have a craze for theater going. As I began to recover my strength, I asked him to take me to see — to see”—Mrs. Drew shivered—“ a new actress people were raving about. That very night he brought me a box for the theater. I think I never admired anything or anybody so much as I did that woman. She was delicate and small, but her majesty of movement, her grace, her passion, the deep, grave sweetness of her voice, accounted for all the public enthusiasm. One of my husband’s friends, who came into the box and devoted himself to me with a curious sort of apologetic respect, assured me, while Reginald was out of the box, that it waq a settled fact that Miss Elvin would shortly become Duchess of Perth. Ten days later my infatuated husband eloped with Miss Elvin, the actress.”

“I have come to tell you,” said the rector, “that the man you excuse with such extraordinary generosity—a man who broke his marriage vow as lightly as he would snap a thread—a man who ruined two women for a passing whim —is dead,” said the rector. “Heaven is just! You, the injured one, are safe from the bitter future which awaits the wretched woman who tempted your husband.” “What V Mrs. Drew looked at him with piercing inquiry. “Tell me—all. I can bear it —indeed I can!” The rector hesitated. He had not intended to place the woman’s letter in the hands of Captain Drew’s lawful wife. But he had felt so indignant while Lillian was defending her dead husband’s sin—had felt a species of impatient wonder how it was that good-for-nothing fellows, without a conscience, without a trace of moral stamina, were loved, petted, forgiven, and after death apotheosized by their womenfolk, while honest and good men were so often worried, teased, snubbed, and, when gone, considered a good riddance—that his courage suddenly rose, and, before he quite realized the step he had taken, he had silently handed Mrs. Drew her rival’s letter. “That will explain all,” he said; then, with a qualm, he walked away from Lillian and stood looking out at the window. It seemed an age that he listened to the rustling of the flimsy letter paper. Mrs. Drew must be reading the letter again and again. “This is most important,” she said. “It Is terrible! What will they do—starve? Oh, Mr. Rawson, he can never for one moment have expected this—have dreamed of his dying! It is so horrible!” she said, lowering her voice and laying her hand upon his sleeve. “You understand? It seems so unnatural that Lilith should have a brother and sisters—his children, not mine! And those poor things—why, I am their stepmother! Yet I am not—oh, what a contusion!” “My dear, pray do hot let us disgrace ourselves by such a discussion,” put in the rector, in dismay. “They have not the faintest shadow of a claim upon you—less than Hagar and Ishmael had upon Sarah ” "Stop!" said Mrs. Drew decidedly. “That Bible story could not have been told after the life of the Master. I have lived after Him. I have to follow Him in my poor little way through anguish, agony and death. But we all deserve to suffer, and He did not. Oh, Mr. Rawson, don’t think I should not enjoy hating those people! That very fact is the reason I must watch my conduct toward them as I would watch a suspected person.”

“I am not going to allow you to be quixotic and wrong-headed—yea, wrong-head-ed,” said the rector, surprised, and still more in dismay. “You must do nothing without consulting me, and probably your father.” “There ia Lilith!” cried Mrs. Drew. “Oh, my Lilith! How little she knows—dreams Now, Mr. Itawson, I have never yet spoken to Lilith about her father, nor do I intend to; but I intend to place the situation before her, and I tell you I shall be guided by her impressions. You are prejudiced. Don’t deny it; you must be; your duty as my trustee is to see that I am righted. But Lilith—oh, she has such a simple upright soul! She goes straight on through obstacles, if only she feels justified. There iB her step in the passage. Lilith opened the door, shut It, and then stood there in her ridiflg habit. The rector gave a'side glance at Mrs. Drew, wondering how she would open fire; she did not wait long. “Lilith, dear, the rector has come to tell us that one of our dearest relatives, by mnrriage, is dead,” she said slowly. “They have no claim whatever upon your mother, Lilith,” began the rector eagerly. “And I have been preaching to her that she must really not bo quixotic, and shower benefits upon unworthy per eons.” “Have these people no one to help—to ■upport them?” she asked the rector, in the rough, abrupt way which people so particularly disliked in “thnt ugly girl, the squire's grandchild." “That I shall make it my business ft» find out,” said the rector. "Nor will 1 leave a stone unturned, Lilith, to find

responsible persons to prevent your mother from squandering her savings, as I see she has a mind to do.” Then he took his leave, feeling, as he nide home, that if ever a man had bungled over a delicate piece of business he was that man. Meanwhile Mrs. Drew had delicately placed the situation- -*t least, in part—before her daughter. Were H her plain duty to help her husband’s chila*« n , their scheme of going to London must be given up. There would be a sacrifice. Breaking the contract with the owner of the London house would bring compensation to him as well as the loss of the premium paid. But there would still be the remainder of Mrs. Drew’s savings, and these would go to. help the unfortunate family. Lilith asked no questions; but she entirely approved her mother’s generosity. * “As for my visit to town, that can wait,” she said cheerfully. “1 dare say it is all for the best. .This next year’s study of nature may help me on more than all the other years put together. I have felt lately that I have seen more in nature than I ever saw before—that my eyes are just beginning to open. Other studies can wait.” And she gallantly supported her mother’s sacrificial plans. The girl clung to duty as to a rock. She wrote a note to the rector, informing him of the determination her mother and she had come to, but the clergyman resolved that Lilith’s generosity should not prevent her completing her studies in London.

CHAPTER IV. The rector had two sisters living in a quaint part of Loudon —Mrs. Law’, who had married her husband, now an infirm old gentleman, late in life, and Mrs. Macdonald, a widow with one son. Mrs. Law was the lady of the house, and to Mr. Law the rector wrote to inquire whether any lady of her acquaintance would consent to take charge of Lilith Drew for a few months. “You may have seen the death of Captain Drew in the papers,” he wrote. “This does not make any pecuniary difference to Mrs. Drew, who has money in her own right, and is Squire Ware’s sole heiress j but it puts an end to Mrs. Drew’s taking a house in town.” The rector did not hint that his sisters might like to invite Lilith; but he thought there was just a possibility that it might occur to them to do so. And, as the days went on and no reply to his letter arrived, he augured well from the delay. One morning came a letter from Mrs. Macdonald. She excused “dear Judith’s” silence. Mr. Law had one of his severe attacks, and Mrs. Law had enough to do to nurse him. "We have been deeply interested in your young friend,” wrote Mrs. Macdonald—“especially dear Judith, who used to paint flowers so beautifully. Judith thinks Miss Drew very young to handle the brush—she will doubtless have to undergo severe training with the pencil. However, in any case, Judith says that, if poor, dear Mrs. Drew will trust her daughter to us, she will do everything ih her power to direct and counsel her.” It was a beautiful July day when Mr. Rawson took his godchild to Loudon. On reaching their destination Lilith was driven through the Loudon streets, Mr. Rawson at her side, in old Mr. Law’s brougham. The busy crowds bustling this way and that, so many men frowning and solemn, so many talking, a few, a very few, smiling, was the most exciting sight to Lilith. She felt as if all these were her brothers, children of their common mother Nature, who urged them on, on in their different paths, all leading—whither? She was going to work, to struggle; but why, and for what end? Her philosophizing was over. After the coachman had carefully driven them through numberless narrow streets, they rolled into a quiet square. The horse trotted gallantly up to his master’s door. A quiet spot. While Mr. Rawson alighted and knocked at the old-fashioned, dark-green door with the quaint brass knocker, Lilith peeped out of the brougham window. Lilith was kissed and embraced by two ladies in caps; then she found herself in a square hall, which reminded her of home, with its old oaken furniture, black and white marble flooring, and the giant clock ticking solemnly in the corner. Up the wide, shallow staircase, past the broad window seat with its dark blue cushions at either end, one of the ladies led Lilith gently, almost apologetically. There was an open book upon the broad seat under the stained glass window. Lilith’s conductor stopped short, pounced upon and with some difficulty pocketed the tiny but bulky volume. “This is my boy Willie," she whispered to Lilith; “it is so lucky I saw it. My sister, Mrs. Law”—looking back—"his aunt, you know, objects to untidiness, also to poetry—at least, wild poetry. Of course I don’t mean Longfellow’s T’snlm of Life,’ and some of Sir Walter Scott's ballads, and Schiller, and ‘ln Memorinm’; but she does not think wild i>oetry good for young people, you know.” Lilith gave a quick look around. Mr. Rawson and Mrs. Law were slowly ascending the staircase, talking earnestly in n low voice. She gave a short, sneering little grimnce. She often mnde those ape-like grimaces without knowing it. Mrs. Macdonald stared in dismay at the tall, dark girl with the strange, angry eyes and the unkempt mass of frizzly hair. She was still more in dismay when the unconventional creature said: “Then Mrs. Law and I shall never get on—that is clenr. I might as well get into the carriage, drive back to the station, and be off home again." “My—my dear.” stammered the startled Mrs. Macdonald, “pruy consider—here they are! Of course you are agitated, leaving home and your dear mother, and all that. My dear. It doesn't matter one bit what you say to me, you know, as I always tell Willie —and you are young like Willie. But you must be careful with dear Judith—Mrs. Law, you know —aho

Is so clever, so remarkable. I may say that she has always been like a queen among us since early childhood.” “A queer sort of queen!” thought Lilith, as she noticed Mrs. Law’s wrinkled face, shifting little eyes and firm mouth. “She reminds me of a prison gate." Judith—Mrs. law —happened to catch sight of Lilith’s strange face, distorted by a look of distrust and disapproval, and her expression settled into sternness as she told herself she would never like that girl—she believed she was destined to be a worse trouble to her than her nephew Willie. However, Mr. Rawson smoothed matters by asking Lilith whether she would not like to sec Mr. Law before she went to her room; and Lilith, whose strongest feeling was. that holiest one of all, pity, or compassion, gave such a hearty “Yes” that Mrs. Macdonald felt relieved, and began to hope that their young guest’s good nature would be found almost to balance her eccentricity. Mr. Law, an old man with.a fair, withered face, long white hair which rested on his Indian dressing gown, and a silkdn beard, was sitting in a high-backed armchair, propped and supported by cushions. He gave Lilith an intent glance through his spectacles. He saw something about her which reminded him of the tropics. ypung friend hns, perhaps, been to India. *h e asked,«with a pleasing smile to Rawson. “Don’t laugh. He always asks every one that when he first them,” Said Mrs. Law sharply to Lilith. As shurjjly geplying, “I laugh'r* q he went up to the old' man ..and said, he. youpg, clear voice barely raised: “Not yet; but I hope to go. It must be a magnificent country.” The old man’s face, which had the quaint beauty of a certain type of old age, grew radiant. “Magnificent?” he repeated, tremblingly sinking into his chair. “What a country—what a country it was! Ah, the British flag has brought law, perhaps; but never again can the splendor be what it was!” Then he held forth about the native princes, their glory, their retinues, their gorgeouS palaces, his visits to thtmi, when at parting they would throw a jeweled chain hung with rubies and emeralds around his neck, as if those priceless gems were berries plucked from the trees. He was waxing more enthusiastic, and was even commencing to tell stories of the origin of some of the jeweled scabbards on his table, when his careful wife, who had been surveying the group with her quick, restless little eyes, as a watchful cat might survey a distant group of mice, stopped her husband’s discourse without much ceremony. “Take Lily—not Lily? oh, thank you, Hugh! Lilith to her room, Mary, my dear,” she said to her meekly obeying sister. Meanwhile her sharp curs had distinctly heard Lilith say to her brother, Mr. Rawson: “He reminds me of the little Glassman. I shall paint Him as the little Glassman standing on a knoll; his beard and "hair are like spun grass, and will come cqit so well against the dark trunks of the forest trees!”

CHAPTER V. Mrs. Drew wrote to her daughter cheerily, playfully, with an underlying seriousness; she followed the rector’s advice. “Begin at this strict drawing school,” she wrote. “If you find you are doing no good there, you can always make a change and study elsewhere.” Lilith felt brighter after her mother’s letter. Next morning she began her student life at an art school. When she shut the hall door at Prince’s Square at starting there was Willie Macdonald waiting for her outside. Willie quietly informed her that he intended to escort her to and fro daily. “My hours at the Deed Office are ten till four,” he said; “yours are nine till five at the school; I can manage it well. It was quite a, relief to Aunt Judith; she was groaning about Priscilla’s wasted hours.” Those walks in the fresh morning werp delightful to Lilith; the air in the squares seemed cold and pure, almost countrylike. Willie was buoyant; he had a bright brain, and his talk was, if chiefly “com-mon-sensical,” clever and reasonable; it put Lilith into a suitable humor for her drudgery. This was extremely trying to the ambitious, idealistic girl; she who had had her freedom absolutely was mentally a prisoner. This was the routine she went through daily. The old porter who opened the school door checked the minute of her arrival by the clock in the hall, and witnessed her signature of the same in a huge book. Then she passed through into the elementary students’ cloak room. Bt*rest of cloak and bonnet, she went up the great stone staircases to the attics. It was such a dreary place—those attics all thrown into one low-ceiled room, where she worked. How could the Beautiful be studied here? While she wns wondering. Miss Levell, a teacher, was arranging Lilith’s work ak the portion of the long desk assigned to her. There was a glazed card with some trace lines hung against the rail above the desk, and on the desk wns Lilith’s drawing board, with a fresh, white sheet of drawing paper pinned upon it. This sheet had been pinned on by kind Miss Leveil’s own fair hunds, while Lilith was glancing around at the many quiet, ugly, uncouth figures working nway at the desks in alienee. Lilith set herself to her strnight lines. By luncheon time she had succeeded in drawing a few inches. At the end of the day the inches were rubbed out. Lilith went from the school fiercely. Willie Macdonald, who determiiKHlly insisted upon her telling her first ex;>erience to him during their walk home, had hard work to pacify her. She grew more contented and leas wretched when he gave her n humorous account of his first duys nt the Deed Office; when he had made her laugh, he took her home. The next day Lilith’s hand was more obedient; Miss Levell encouraged her. The day after, just before the luncheon hour, Miss Levell came ih. Lilith had finished her curiously infantine task boldly; there were some fine bold lines upon the paper. Lilith’s heart beat faster us Miss Levell came up; she expected that these would be her first and last “lines" she would be promoted to "curves.” “My dear,” whispered Miss Levell, “that will never do—quite incorrect. See here and here” —pointing to the shiny card and to Lilith's druwing alternately—“you have not ascertained your distance rightly. you must take a fresh sheet and begin again.” Lilith was alone anil furious. First she paced the empty room in a rage, and then an idea came to her. She took up her drawing—those rejected penciled lines—-

and, seeing how good they were, if not exactly like the copy, she resolved—“l will give them some straight lines; and then good-by—come what may, goodby!” She sat down, scrawled “The Falaee of Straight Lines” at the top of the paper, and then made a bold sketch of the school, the exterior on one side of the paper, *.ud the interior on the other. They were fine sketches with her ewn firm artist touch. The one bit of spite was a portrait-all in lines —of Mies L«* veil, who was looking out of window, pointing rigidly to the inscription above. the time she had finished this and had signed her name in full her head was hot with passion; she went quietly tc th? cloak room, dressed and strode out, Lilith hud boon crying passionately; but she met Willie with perfect self-control. She told hjm everything, and he had still enough of the schoolboy element in his composition to enjoy a mutiny, and Lilith’s behavior to-day was certainly mu* tihous. “Your mother must be told,” he said; but he persuaded Lilith not to write hqp helf. “I will tell my mother all about it," he said; “our mothers will understand each other. You see it will be painful tc Mrs. Drew to hear that you and the school are at loggerheads already.” Mrs. Macdonald wrote. Her answer was the appearance of Lilith’s mother upon the scene. She came to the Prince’s Square house as unobtrusively as any ea» ual morning visitor. She was introduced to Willie before she had time to hear Lilith's story. Then they sat side by side on the big sofa in Lilith’s bed chamber, thu sough dark head against the smooth fnir on*, and Lilith told her woes. Then Mrs. T)re\v put on her bonnet and drove off to tn* drawing school. Miss Lovell was astonish*., t 0 fi n< j that this sweet-faced, gentle lud> was Edith’s mother. “Wo think your daughter so wild,” said Miss Levell. “Of course su\ has imagination and facility of execution; but of what usesare those without rigid training?” “Certainly very little,” Mrs. Drew said. Then the two ladies talked over the matter, and Lilith was forgiven, tyid reinstated for as long as she conformed to rules. (To be continued.)