Douglass Sherley

“ But words are easy, and many questions are hard to answer.
The Youth had loved the face when first he saw it in the crowded shop-window of the Town. So did he love it now. Change can not kill Love, if Love it be. What matter to the Youth even if the eye had grown cold and a Shadow rested about the sweet mouth? Can such things as these make denial to the heart of a Lover? Aye, to the heart of a Love-maker, but not to the heart of one who loves. There is no limit to Love. A thousand nays can not check its course if true Love it be. ”

“ I measured my powers aright—I could at my own sweet will allow him, force him, coax him, make him do any thing. I cunningly wove a web in and around the heart of Gerome Meadows—his rejected, torn and dejected heart. I gently soothed him into not quite a forgetfulness, yet a strong and healthful calm. He was grateful. Reactions are always dangerous; he wondered why he had not known me before as he knew me then. And while he wondered I charmed him into a new love fever. It was almost a touch of real passion. ”

“ The Easter-tide growing old, and the Summer time new and beautiful, brought no change. The last light of each day fell on the clear-cut and delicate face, gilded the dark hair with a deep russet brown, played about the sweet mouth—and was gone, leaving her with answer yet ungiven.
The first fire of the Autumn crackled and glowed on the tiled hearth, and threw a Shadow on the face of the pretty girl in the Picture; and from that moment there was a change. "But it is only a Shadow from the fire-light glow," said the Youth of the Town. ”

“ The mother never recovered. After an illness of several years she died suddenly at some winter resort, with the old name of Basil on her lips that formed the word and then were forever still. Rose and Grace could look upon those familiar features and behold the trace of beauty which time and disease had tenderly spared. But Mary, the third daughter, blind from her birth, could only feel the face of her beloved and kiss the lips that could no longer speak her name. Blind! ”

“ I know that I do talk a little too loud; but just lots of real nice persons talk real loud at the theater—it comes natural. When people turn around and look at me as if I was really doing something dreadful, then I talk ever and ever so much more! People can't frown me down—no indeed, double deed, not if Alice Wing knows any thing about herself! People who know me never try; except my family, headed by Aunt Patsey, who always says, "We are prompted by a deep sense of duty, my dear, duty!" ”

“ Again the face is barely more than pale. The deep color has faded away, leaving but a faint, delicate trace, and a pinky tinge which reaches out until it kisses the utmost tip of her perfect little ear. How deep, tender, and wondrous sad those eyes have grown! Down in their dark depths her very soul seems to tremble into sight. It is only one who has suffered who can have such eyes. And, in truth, it is worth almost a lifetime of suffering to look deep down into such eyes of sad beauty. ”

“ He kissed the mother, a woman of forty and with attractions more than passing pleasant; he touched the heart of the eldest daughter, Rose, eighteen years of age, and he took the bandage off of his own eyes and put it over the head of Basil, who straightway thought he loved the daughter, who was a woman of no beauty, little intelligence and less amiability. Being blind with the bandage of the boy Love, he could not see that the mother had centered her full blown affections upon him. Therefore it came to pass that the mother and daughter were rivals. He, being a man, did not understand ”

“ Aunt Patsey says I am simply fearful, and just like a girl she used to know, who lived down-East, a Miss Polly Blanton, who talked all the time; told every thing, every thing she knew, every thing she had ever heard; and then when she could think of nothing else, boldly began on the family secrets. Well, I believe I am just like that girl—because I am constantly telling things about our domestic life which is by no means pleasant. Pa and ma lead an awful kind of an existence—live just like cats and dogs. Now I ought never to tell that, yet somehow it will slip out in spite of myself! ”

“ She was twelve, yet the little blind maid was old enough to know her loss, to feel her sorrow.
Rose, cold, selfish, unsympathetic, lamenting the loss of a lover whom she had no power to hold more than the death of her mother, feeling no love for the sister who had made for her sake a useless sacrifice, was not a desirable companion for the little blind sister. ”

“ Aunt Patsey, too, she says they will succeed, and Aunt Patsey knows! But she don't know every thing, for Mrs. John Robert Gilder has fooled her. But I am not surprised; she would have fooled me, also, if I was not so intimate with Sophia, who tells me every thing—the only person who ever did; and there is just nothing I would not do for her. I know Sophia Gilder's other secret! She is caring a great deal too much for a man who don't take overmuch interest in her. But the man don't even know that she cares any thing for him, and I don't believe he will ever know—unless I tell him myself! ”

“ Grace, mortified by the rivalry between her mother and sister, and conscious of a growing passion for the man who had, unintentionally, crept into the lives of three women in one household bound by the closest ties of blood, fled the place, and went down the broad river to a little town, where she found quiet and friendly shelter in the home of a relative. It was a curious place, very old, and in the heart of evergreens. There was a young girl, Lydia, who was much older, had loved, and knew that priceless art of bringing comfort to those who were loving either wisely or too well. ”

“ I look long and earnestly at the tired face I see reflected in the pretty oval mirror, with its beveled edges and dainty drapery of pink silk and pure white mull. It is not a pretty face; even my friends do not think me beautiful. Yet I sometimes fancy—alas! perhaps it is only a fancy—that I have on my face a suggestion of beauty, even if beauty itself be absent. My eyes are full and dark, with long lashes; my mouth is somewhat large, not a good shape either, and some people—who do not like me—say that they can easily detect a hard, cold expression which does not please them. ”

“ Clad in the robes of a Carmelite nun, she may have been too unmindful of the little blind one who had clung to her and plead with her not to leave her alone with Rose. For after all, what is raiment even if it be fine, aye, purple and fine linen; what is food, even if it be dainty like the ambrosia of the Gods; what is warmth, what is comfort, what are all these things if the heart be cold, naked and hungry? Grace had provided for her bodily comforts, but she had failed to fill her own place left vacant with some heart that would be kind and loving to Mary, blind and helpless. ”

“ Mamma says I am not sufficiently clever to tempt the brainy monster, i.e., Culture Fiend. She has taken me in hand; I am to play a role also. She has a strange power over me which I am unable to withstand. It is the fatal power which a strong mind gets over the more weak and readily yielding mind incapable of a successful resistance. She is a woman with a bad heart and a clear head. I am irresolute, full of most excellent intentions, and in effect as bad as she without the redeeming features of extraordinary cleverness. I am to play the role of a young maiden with an object in life. ”

“ Your sister can not come to you, but you may go to her, and live where you may daily hear the sound of her voice and often feel the touch of her loving hands, which have been consecrated to holy service. God for some wise purpose hath made you blind, but He has put it into my heart, His servant, to do this thing for you. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen."
So she went among them, this little blind maid, and the nuns of that Carmelite convent called her the "Blessing of the Pope," and they loved her the more because her name was Mary. ”

“ And once, just once, I might have yielded, but my family, my own judgment, every thing, was against the man, and to the end he continued to be simply a trial for my untried and newly discovered powers. And then, perhaps the more potent reason of all, Gerome Meadows gave uneasy indications of a desire to return. I, and immediately, made arrangements for the full gratification of his desire. Now was my chance. Revenge, when delayed, is all the sweeter for the delay. The world must know of my power, and through Gerome Meadows! ”

“ Grace, now free from the passionate desires which had driven her there, made prayers for Basil as a good sister makes supplication for her favorite brother, and she found favor not only in the sight of those about her, but in the eyes of the Lord. The old pain in her conscience about the little blind sister left out in the world had been removed, and she secretly and openly rejoiced in the companionship of Mary.
Basil and Rose lived in the big city of smoke and commerce, but no unkindly chance brought them together. She led that life which suited her best. ”

“ There is an irresistible glamour, there is a touch of his Satanic majesty which gains me, against my will, body and soul. She is a bad, dangerous woman. What an awful idea to have of my own mother! but, fortunately, other people don't know her as we do—papa and I.
But after all the constant planning, the education with trimmings, the high art dressing, the effective situations without number, in short, the whole broad system of skillful social advertising, I am not the one magnet-point; I am not the belle of the town. This has caused the breach between us; and it grows wider every day. ”

“ After Grace entered the Carmelite Convent, which was many miles away from their old home, Rose and Mary returned to the big smoky city, and were swallowed up in the multitude of people who exist in buildings and houses, where men and women huddle together and have, as they had, a certain amount of comfort, but lose their identity, and are finally swept away into that great stagnant pool of obscurity where existence in great cities goes on and on without either ebb or flow. ”

“ I must confess that I like stupid men; they may not talk much, yet they seem real eager to listen! Then stupid men always have such good manners, which, in society, counts for a great deal! People who have good manners are so safe—they never do any thing startling! I wish my manners were better—but they are not! After one of Aunt Patsey's talks on good form, and strict propriety, I try to improve—regenerate, if possible. I often watch Miss Lena Searlwood, one of the older girls, who is a great favorite with Aunt Patsey—but it is no use! ”

“ As might have been expected, that clause of his will was successfully contested, on account of its vagueness, by his brother and sister, who morally, if not legally, cheated the "Bashful Young Men of Boston" out of a unique and much deserved, much needed inheritance. This cure for heart-break must be a severe but effectual one. When I met George Addison in Paris, then an old man, he was as rosy as a ripe apple, and just as mellow. He was gracious, kindly, and had learned well the difficult art of growing old with grace, and without noise. ”

“ Some people say that I am all things to all men; perhaps I am, for if I am not broad I am not any thing. I abhor narrow-mindedness! I am a trifle fraudulent in a harmless way, which I am free to confess is more than a trifle fascinating to most of the men I know. I smile, make eyes, sometimes sigh, and with many devices coax the masculine fancy into life, and for my sake. ”

“ The Pope may be infallible, but he is surely human, for when he read the simple words sprawled out upon a sheet of paper, blistered with the tears of the little blind maid crying out from across the seas her appeal for the return of her sister from those convent walls, he was moved to a compassion which was not only priestly, but very human. He bestirred himself in her behalf. He wrote letters to the convent of those Carmelite nuns. He made earnest inquiry about Grace, and finally, after many days of weary, heart-sick waiting, a letter came to the parish priest for little Mary. ”

“ Even Aunt Patsey likes the man, and O, so do I! He is nice and quiet, and just loves to hear me talk—never interrupts me, but lets me go on, and looks at me so admiring-like all the time! Ma says I am sure to spoil every thing by too much talking! He is so timid! I encourage him, though, all I can; he seems to like encouragement so much! He understands and appreciates me, too, and that is a great deal; for most of the other men act so funny when they are left alone with me! ”

“ Platitudes are men who lead an honest, stupid existence. They are contented with their lot—because ignorant of any other. They are resentful of all innovations—because they are narrow-minded and full of deep ruts; they are guiltless of one clever thought; they sometimes stumble into somewhat of a clever action, but humbly deprecate the move, unconscious of having done a clever thing. Such men used to float about me in shoals of delicious stupidity. ”

“ In that Carmelite convent this is the prayer each night of little Mary, blind, but happy: "God, give my dear sister Rose more kindness and sweetness. God, keep my good and beautiful sister Grace, and may God please send a big, strong angel to help my Uncle Basil make a good fight. Give him faith, and afterwhile a mansion and a crown in that pretty land where little Mary will not be blind, and where she will not only hear the songs of the angels, but see their shining faces. God, make me good and keep me true. ”

“ It was the one golden opportunity for the man by my side. The old tender leaning toward him came back again, stronger, more subtle than ever before. It was—for the while—love, or something very like unto love. My nature, my soul was at its utmost flow, but no one touched the flood-gates. Gerome was passive, silent. One word, a hand-touch, and I would have loved him and bound myself to him for weal or woe! Little things are every thing in a woman's life. Robert Fairfield passed by beneath the window ”

“ But my failure was not due to this lack of beauty, for other women far more ugly than I outshone me in every way. I did not know myself. There is the key to many a mystery. I tried to be like other women and—failed. I had a little individuality of my own, but for a time did not know it.
During that formative period I had one love-affair; at least, I did the loving and Gerome Meadows did the "affair," for with him it was nothing more. He was a man just a trifle above the average in looks and manners, intellect—every thing. He was always attractive and agreeable. ”

“ Unlike most women of the fashionable world, she makes a decided point of poor papa's attendance. He must always go with her—and he does. Often he comes to his home tired out, worn down to the very quick—making money he calls it—and mamma, fresh and ready, eager for the social battle which, like a war-horse, she scents from afar, drags him out with her—somewhere—generally, when there is nothing more exciting on hand, across the way to that bric-a-brac-shop of a house, where the tawdry elegant, always weary Mrs. Babbington Brooks holds forth in an ultra-æsthetic style peculiarly her own. ”

“ To be a "social success" one must be something of an actress. Men usually expect a vast amount of acting from young women, who will, if they are discreet, certainly live up to that expectation. Men are willing to be deceived, but it must not be a labeled deceit. I go down the street and meet Mr. Seyhmoor; although I see him a block off, and before he sees me, yet I affect great surprise when he greets me—a little start is quite effective. The trifling little deception floods my face with color, which comes almost at my command. ”

“ Newspaper Reporters are a much-abused, downtrodden class. I have known many, and I have yet to know one unworthy of a true woman's confidence. Treat them as if they were dogs, and they will act like dogs—forever barking and biting at your heels; but treat them like human beings, with due and just consideration, and they will prove to you the wisdom of your course. Newspaper Poets gather about me in a body. I have all styles and gradations. They run the entire range from bad to fairly good; but there is one who writes a most exquisite verse. He is a tender, sympathetic, yet cynical man. ”

“ The average woman has nothing to give her lover, when he asks the all-important question, but a few tender, meaningless words to environ her yes or no. Of course, when the answer is yes, they both feed on the thought of marriage until its consummation. But if she is forced to say no, it leaves her barren of any thing to offer in lieu of the affection demanded. She is at once destituted of resources. She has no mental reservoir out of which she may feed the man's desire, and gently but effectually turn it into an intellectual channel of her own making and directing. ”

“ I have seen so many men promptly revive beneath the showers of another woman's glance and of another woman's tender—perhaps like mine—unmeant words, mere platitudes, platitudes effectual, intangible. They are not sufficient proof in any court of conscience, law, or public opinion. ”

“ Then a walk down the street, a talk of mere wordy nothings, but of deep and tender looks. In point of words, a make-talk affair; in point of feeling, a vague shadowy suggestion of twenty delicious possibilities; in point of fact a walk without any serious results. Calburt Young, a fascinating man-about-town, a semi-Bohemian, joins me at a fashionable ball. He takes me away from the dancing-room (and the other men) , for Bohemians never dance. He finds, as only he can, some quiet unoccupied nook, a little out of the way, and yet a very proper place. ”

“ She constantly gives her best thought, her best effort, to the members of her family, always forgetting self; and she is full of the tenderest consideration toward other people. She never speaks ill of her neighbor; she is always true. She is always ready to discharge her duty—and more. She is tender, gentle, firm; there is not a flower which blooms more full, better rounded out, more sweet, better to look upon, or in any way more complete, more perfect than she. ”

“ They say Mr. Young is so smart, wonderful deep, and all that; but he is just a mean, rude man, and I won't ever have any thing more to do with him; and when I say I won't, I won't!
How some people do ruffle me into a fever-heat of dislike and ardent opposition. Of course I know that it is all wrong, yet after all there is a certain kind of satisfaction. Now, for instance, that Mrs. Babbington Brooks, with her smooth, oily tongue, abominable phrases, "Yes, my sweet loves," and her "O! my dear doves," sets me fairly wild. She is such a vulgar, low-born person! ”

“ I never did like her; she has such a conceited air; and now she'll be worse than ever. But I should not have cared if every other man in the house had stood by her the entire evening, but to think that even Robert Fairfield was with her constantly! He only bowed AT ME from across the room, and never came near me. At the Monday-night German he gave me, with a hand-touch and a smile, this red rose, then a bud, and I, foolishly, wore it to-night, although it was faded. The horrid, withered thing! ”

“ Of course I'll go with him; for to go with Robert Fairfield any where means a delightful time to any girl so fortunate. It means a bunch of roses almost heavenly in their sweet loveliness! It means the two best seats in the theater! It means the turning of a hundred envious female eyes from all parts of the crowded house; for our theater is always crowded on Friday nights, no matter what the play or players may chance to be. Because it is fashionable to go on Friday nights, and theatergoers in this town are so fashionable. ”

“ Papa is really a dear, good man. He has not only the love but also the pity of a devoted daughter, for he does have such a hard time with mamma. While he understands perfectly all about making money, and just lots of it, too, yet, papa does not shine in mamma's fashionable circle. He is a slave to her slightest whim—and she is full of them. ”

“ For I don't know, and I don't want to know any thing about catching men—as if they were wild animals, fish, or something. Aunt Patsey calls it diplomacy! Diplomacy? Fiddle-sticks! It is down right deception of the very worst kind. I know that I talk too much, tell a great many things that ought to be left unsaid, but I do not tell lies—there is no other name for them—and knowingly, with malice aforethought, make an injury or do a wrong to any body. ”