Alfred Burton

“ Ellen, however, had a voice which was superior to bands. Alfred, with his mouth continually filled with bun, appeared fascinated by the cornet player, from whom he seldom removed his eyes.
"What I want to know, Alfred Burton, is first how long this tomfoolery is to last, and secondly what it all means?" Ellen began, with her elbows upon the table and a reckless disregard of neighbors. "Haven't we lived for ten years, husband and wife, at Clematis Villa, and you as happy and satisfied with his home as a man could be? ”

“ Alfred wore his usual black Sunday suit, a lace collar around his neck about a foot wide, a straw hat on the ribbon of which was printed the name of one of His Majesty's battleships, and a curl plastered upon his forehead very much in the style of Burton himself in earlier days. Directly he saw his father, he put his finger in his mouth and seemed inclined to howl. Ellen raised her veil and pushed him forward.
"Run to daddy," she ordered, sharply. "Do as you're told, or I'll box your ears." ”

“ She laid her hand upon his shoulder.
"Come and be a man again, Alfred," she begged, a little awkwardly. "You've got good common sense at the bottom still, I am sure. Why don't you give up this tomfoolery and come home to me and the boy? Or shall I stay up," she went on, "and have a little evening in town? You've got the money. Why not let's go to a restaurant and a music-hall afterwards? We might ask the Johnsons. Little Alf would be all right, and I put on my best hat, in case."
Burton looked wearily up.
"Ellen," he said, "I am afraid I can't make you understand. ”

“ As at Fernando Po, Santos and Damascus, he promptly looked out for a sanitarium, his choice finally resting upon a loftily-situated village called Opcina.
Reviewing Burton's career, Mr. Alfred Bates Richards says: "He has done more than any other six men, and is one of the best, noblest and truest that breathes. While not on active service or on sick leave he has been serving his country, humanity, science, and civilisation in other ways, by opening up lands hitherto unknown, and trying to do good wherever he went. He was the pioneer for all other living African travellers." ”

“ Burton sighed.
"I tried to work this morning," he declared. "I gave up simply because I found myself thinking of you all the time. Genius is so susceptible to diversions. This afternoon I couldn't settle down because I was wondering all the time whether you were wearing blue linen or white muslin. I just looked out of the window to see—you were asleep in the hammock . . . you witch!" he murmured softly. "How could I keep sane and collected! How could I write about anybody or anything in the world except you! ”

“ No one can imagine what treasures I may not discover. I shall even go on to a part of Africa—but I need not weary you with this. I simply wanted you to understand that the desire for wealth is not necessarily vulgar."
Burton yawned slightly. His eyes sought once more the velvety shadows which hung over the lawn. He wondered down which of those dim avenues she had passed.
"I am so sorry," he said apologetically. "You are a man of business, Mr. Bomford, and you, professor, see much further into life than I can, but I do not wish to have anything whatever to do with your scheme. ”

“ Burton threw himself on to the ground by her side.
"We think too much always of consequences," he said "After this evening, what does anything matter? The gorse is a flaming yellow; do you see how it looks like a field of gold there in the distance? Only the haze separates it from the blue sky. Look down where I am pointing, Edith. It was there by the side of the road that I first looked into the garden and saw you." ”

“ Within a few feet of him, separated only by that little space of tablecloth and a great bowl of pink roses, sat Edith, dressed as he had never seen her before, a most becoming flush upon her cheeks, a new and softer brilliancy in her eyes, which seemed always to be seeking his. They drank champagne, to the taste and effects of which he was as yet unaccustomed. Burton felt its inspiring effect even though he himself drank little.
The conversation was always interesting. The professor talked of Assyria, and there was no man who had had stranger experiences. ”

“ Burton. She is used to being associated with work of importance."
"You are very kind," Burton murmured. "If you will excuse me, then, for a few moments?"
"By all means," the professor declared. "And pray suit yourself entirely, Mr. Burton, as to the clothes you bring and the preparations you make for your visit. If you prefer not to change for the evening, I will do the same. I am renowned in the neighborhood chiefly for my shabbiness and my carpet slippers."
Burton paused on the threshold and looked back. Edith was bending over the table, collecting the loose sheets of manuscript. ”

“ Burton looked around him a little vaguely.
"You all seem very busy," he remarked.
"Some bloke from the country's taken the 'ouse," the man grumbled, "and wants to move in before the blooming paint's dry. Nobody can't do impossibilities, mister," he continued, "leaving out the Unions, which can't bear to see us over-exert ourselves. They've always got a particular eye on me, knowing I'm a bit too rapid for most of them when I start."
"Give yourself a rest for a moment," Burton begged. "Tell me, what's become of the rugs and oddments of furniture from that little room opposite?" ”

“ Burton replied, placing the object of their remarks fearlessly upon his head. "You may not be quite used to it yet, but I can assure you that it is far more becoming and suitable than a cheap silk hat, especially for an occasion like the present."
Ellen opened her mouth and closed it again—it was perhaps wise!
"Come on," she said abruptly. "Alfred wants to hear the soldier music and we are late already. Take your father's hand." ”

“ Burton, what has come to you?"
Burton was looking a little sullen.
"It's all very well," he grumbled. "We're too jolly careful of ourselves. We don't get much fun. Here's your poky little restaurant. Let's see what it looks like inside."
They entered, and a maitre d'hôtel came hurrying to meet them. Burton, however, shook his head.
"This place is no good, Waddington," he decided. "Only about half-a-dozen stodgy old people here, no music, and nothing to look at. Let's go where there's some life. ”

“ Burton felt his heart beat quickly as a little waft of familiar perfume swept out to him at the opening of the door. Mr. Waddington struck a match and held it over his head.
"So this is the room," he remarked. "Dashed if I've ever been in it!
It wants cleaning out and fumigating badly. What's this?"
He picked up the sheet of paper, which was lying exactly as Burton had left it. Then he lifted up the little dwarf tree and looked at it.
"It is finished. The nineteenth generation has triumphed. He who shall eat of the brown fruit of this tree, shall see the things of Life and Death as they are. ”

“ The girl looked at him curiously.
"Not quite yourself, are you?" she inquired. "Don't get chippy before this evening. I don't think I'll give you anything else to drink. When a gentleman takes me out, I like him to be at his best."
Burton came back. It was a long journey from the little corner of the world into which his thoughts had strayed, to the ornate, artificial-looking parlor, with the Turkey-carpet upon the floor and framed advertisements upon the walls.
"I am sorry," he said. "I had forgotten. I can't take you out to-night—I've got an engagement. ”

“ He spent most of his time, however, in the fencing saloons of an Italian named Angelo and a Scotchman named Maclaren; and it was at Maclaren's he first met Alfred Bates Richards, who became a life friend. Richards, an undergraduate of Exeter, was a man of splendid physique. A giant in height and strength, he defeated all antagonists at boxing, but Burton mastered him with the foil and the broad-sword. Richards, who, like Burton, became a voluminous author 47 wrote long after, "I am sure, though Burton was brilliant, rather wild, and very popular, none of us foresaw his future greatness." ”

“ Burton interrupted, savagely. "One must be a little human now and then. By Jove, old man, there are some ties, if you like! I always did think a yellow one would suit me."
Mr. Waddington pressed him gently along.
"I am not sure," he muttered, "that we are quite in the mood to buy ties. I want to ask you a question, Burton."
"Go ahead."
"You were telling me about this wonderful scheme of your friend the professor's, to make—Menatogen, I think you said. Did you part with both your beans?"
"Both," Burton replied, almost fiercely. "But I've another fortnight or so yet. ”

“ Brushes his hair and washes his hands every time he goes out. Took a dislike to his tie and burned it. Plagued me to death till I got him a new suit of clothes—plain, ugly things, too, he would have. He won't have nothing to do with his friends, chucked playing marbles or hopscotch, and goes out in the country, picking flowers. Just to humor him, the first lot he brought home I put in one of those vases that ma brought us from Yarmouth, and what do you think he did?—threw the vase out of the window and bought with his own pocket money a plain china bowl."
Burton listened in blank amazement. ”

“ Life was unutterably and intensely selfish. Every little unit in that seething mass was so entirely, so strangely self-centered. None of them had any real love or friendliness for the millions who toiled around them, no one seemed to have time to take his eyes from his own work and his own interests. Burton became more and more depressed as the days passed. ”

“ He made no reply. Speech, for the moment, was absolutely impossible. She stood and stared at him, her arms akimbo, disapproval written in her face. Her hair was exceedingly untidy and there was a smut upon her cheek. A soiled lace collar, fastened with an imitation diamond brooch, had burst asunder.
"What's come to your moustache?" she demanded. "And why are you dressed like—like a house-painter on a Sunday?"
Burton found his first gleam of consolation. A newly-discovered sense of humor soothed him inexplicably.
"Sorry you don't like my clothes," he replied. "You'll get used to them." ”

“ In the house, young man, which you have told me of, there died the hero of the greatest discovery which has ever been made since the world began to spin upon its orbit."
"Will Miss Edith be back to-morrow?" Burton asked.
The professor stared at him.
"Miss Edith?" he repeated. "Oh! my daughter? Is she not in?"
"She is away for two days, your servant told me," Burton replied.
"Perhaps so—perhaps so," the professor agreed. "She has gone to her aunt's, very likely, in Chelsea. My sister has a house there in Bromsgrove Terrace."
Burton rose to his feet. He held out his hand for the manuscript. ”

“ Burton was suddenly white. Mr. Waddington plunged in.
"Dry old stick, the professor, anyway, from what I've heard," he said. "Now don't you forget, Mr. Bunsome. I shall be round at your office at ten o'clock sharp to-morrow, and I expect to be let into the company. Three beans I've got, and remember they're worth something. They took that old Egyptian Johnny—him and his family, of course—a matter of a thousand years to grow, and there's no one else on to them. Why, they're unique, and they do the trick, too—that I can speak for. Paid the bill, Burton?" ”

“ Burton considered the subject thoughtfully.
"There must be occupations," he murmured, "where instinctive truthfulness would be an advantage."
"I can't think of one," Mr. Waddington answered, gloomily. "Besides, I am too old for anything absolutely new."
"How on earth did you succeed in letting Idlemay House?" Burton asked suddenly.
"Most remarkable incident," his host declared. "Reminds me of my last two sales of antique furniture. This man—a Mr. Forrester—came to me with his wife, very keen to take a house in that precise neighborhood. ”

“ Barham House was a country place bought by my grandfather, Richard Baker, who determined to make me his heir because I had red hair, an unusual thing in the Burton family. The hair soon changed to black, which seems to justify the following remarks by Alfred Bate Richards in the pamphlet alluded to. They are as follows:—
"Richard Burton's talents for mixing with and assimilating natives of all countries, but especially Oriental characters, and of becoming as one of themselves without any one doubting or suspecting his origin ”

“ Send your three pounds a week and get out of it. That's all I want to hear of you! You know the way, don't you?"
Her outstretched forefinger pointed to the door. Burton had never felt so pitifully short of words in his life.
"I—I've asked the Johnsons to supper," he stammered, as he took up his hat.
"Take them to your west-end, then!" Ellen cried, scornfully. "Take them riding in your motor-car. Why don't you tell the man to drive up and down the avenue, that every one may see how fine you are! Would you like to know just what I think of you?" ”

“ He half rose from his chair but Mr. Cowper thrust him back again.
"We have not finished yet, my dear Mr. Burton," he said eagerly. "You are making up your mind too hastily."
"A thousand pounds," Mr. Bomford repeated, condescendingly, "is a very useful sum. Those peculiar gifts of yours may vanish. Take the advice of a business man. Remember that you will still have two or three beans left. It is only one we ask for. I want to put the matter on as broad a basis as possible. We make our appeal on behalf of the cause of science. You must not refuse us." Burton rose to his feet determinedly. ”