Bowden

“ The dog was male, a lissome [Pg 3] whippet unconnected with the business of the farm, and Bowden had called him ‘she’ from puppyhood. The dark-haired, broad-faced, rather sullen-looking girl whom he addressed flushed, and her grey eyes widened. “’Twas a shame!” she muttered.
“Ah!” said Bowden.
Bowden farmed about a hundred acres of half and half sort of land, some good, some poor, just under the down. He was a widower, with a mother and an only son. A broad, easy man with a dark round head, a rosy face, and immense capacity for living in the moment. ”

“ Of the same block Captain Bowden was a chip: a fair-haired, light-moustached, Saxon-faced "Yank"—far the worst type of man, let me tell you, yet discovered—whose whole intercourse with the prisoners was the essence of brutality. An illustration will paint him more thoroughly than a philippic. A prisoner named Hale, belonging to the old Stonewall brigade, was discovered one day rather less sober than was allowable to any but the loyal, and Bowden being officer of the guard, arrested him and demanded where he got his liquor. ”

“ It was the house of the minister, and a wagon had just stopped before it; a man was helping a woman to alight, and they stood side by side for a moment, while Johnny Bowden appeared as if by magic, and climbed to the wagon-seat. Then they went into the house and shut the door. Mrs. Todd and I stood close together and watched; the tears were running down her cheeks. I watched Johnny Bowden, who made light of so great a moment by so 296handling the whip that the old white Caplin horse started up from time to time and was inexorably stopped as if he had some idea of running away. ”

“ Steer was a Northerner, an Easterner, a man from a part called Lincolnshire, outlandish, like the Frisian cattle he mixed with the Devons on his farm—this, Bowden could not help feeling in the bottom of his soul, was what had moved his dog. ”

“ Bowdoin rattled the tea things.
"Don't mind your grandma, Harley, if she is out of temper. She's got a headache this morning. She went to bed with the hot-water bottle under her pillow and the brandy at her feet, and feels a little mixed."
"James! I never took a brandy bottle upstairs with me in my life. And Harleston knows"—
[Pg 150] "Do you suppose he knows as well as I do, who have lived with you for fifty years?"
"And I'll not stay with you to hear my cousin insulted!" Majestic, she rose.
"It's too much of one girl," chuckled Mr. Bowdoin. "No wonder men keep a separate establishment." ”

“ Clair, and had no difficulty in finding out about him. He had been a sort of captain of marines in an armed blockade-runner, and he was well known in New Orleans as a gambler, a slave-dealer"—
Mr. Bowdoin grunted.
—"almost what they call a thug. But he had not been killed instantly; he died in a city hospital."
"There is no doubt about his being dead?" queried Mr. Bowdoin anxiously.
"Not the slightest. I saw his grave. But, unhappily, Mercedes is dead, too."
"All is for the best," said Mr. Bowdoin philosophically. "Perhaps you'd have married her." ”

“ Honest. I’m a business man. Now, suppose you sit down and let me dictate a letter to Judge Lyman. I don’t mean to send it, but I mean your broker friend to hear me dictating. When he comes in, nod and smile and tell him to wait.”
The girl sat down before her machine and slipped a sheet of paper into the roll.
“All ready?” asked Bowen. “Then shoot!”
“My dear Judge:
“I’m here in the big town and having the time of my life. Them are the exact words. I yesterday met your erstwhile stenographer, Miss Ferguson, who has an office of her own and deserves it. ”

“ This time, the drummer took no umbrage at the hated word “Frisco.” Instead, he put out his hand with quick affability.
“Glad to meet you, Mr. Bowen! Here’s my card. Going to the Palace?”
Before the lean man could respond, the fat man leaned forward in his chair. He stared intently at Bowen, then spoke.
“Do I understand, sir,” he squeaked, “that you are Robert Bowen, and that you have sold the Yellow Jack mine?”
“You do,” said Bowen, eying him.
“Upon my word!” The ejaculation was one of surprise and was followed by a chuckle. “My name is Dickover—of New York, Mr. Bowen. ”

“ Bowen had frequently met him at Tonopah.
“Miss Ferguson, allow me to introduce Mr. Saunders. Miss Ferguson is my partner at present, Gus, in a deal we’ve got on hand; looks like a big one, and we need your help.”
“That’s my business,” and the broker smiled.
“There’s a curb stock by the name of—”
“Hold on!” Saunders flung up his hands. “Don’t talk curb stock to me. Don’t touch the stuff, and you ought to know it!”
“Shut up till I get through!” snapped Bowen, and grinned. “You’re refusing no good business that comes along; and I’m paying you any commission on this job that you care to name. ”

“ Bowman succeeded in preserving a manly composure. At any rate, when I came downstairs, it was in a broken voice that he wished me the compliments of the season, and a little later on, when he paid his visit of ceremony at breakfast, he was far from cheerful: even Byronic, I might almost say, in his outlook on life.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘if you think with me, sir; but every Christmas as comes round the world seems a hollerer thing to me. Why, take an example now from what lays under my own eye. There’s my servant Eliza—been with me now for going on fifteen years. ”

“ A stone crashed up at the balcony and again came: "Glencoe!"
He glanced at the clock and rang a bell; when the servant appeared in answer, he asked for lights. "And order the coach," he said.
The man hesitated, stopped.
"My lord—my lord—you will not go abroad?"
"To my Lord Breadalbane's reception," answered the Earl. "My lord—does your lordship hear the mob?"
The Earl flared with impatience.
"I do not ask your attendance—if there be one man in my service not a coward let him drive, it will suffice." ”

“ Their eyes exchanged the same message of comprehension, of surmise.
"You think," said the girl suddenly, "that Dickover is taking control of Apex Crown?"
Bowen was silent for so long that the silence became painful.
"No," he returned at last. "No. I don't think he is. My cool judgment says he is not. But what's judgment anyhow? You hang on to that stock, Miss Ferguson!"
She flushed a little, but her eyes dwelt on his. "I—I need the money it would bring at twenty cents," she faltered. "And yet—look here, Mr. Bowen! ”

“ Bowman cried, "No, son—come back! You'll be killed. Come—"
But he was talking to empty air. Johnny was pounding down the runway. Lorraine sniffed once. Then her jaw hardened. She said, "I'm going after him."
Bowman pushed her into a chair—but hard. He said, "You're waiting here! With us. You'll only be in his way. Johnny's the tech man on this ship. If anybody can save us, he's the one." But as her head lowered, his eyes met mine. And the words were written there, "Not this time—"
Still, we had to do something. ”

“ Her face was as full of splendour
As the primrose woods in spring,
When God bends through the branches,
To hear the mavis sing.
She was but a Mary Martyr, cursed for her heresy,
But her eyes were clear as water and troubled the heart in me."
The Countess rose swiftly.
"Are you glad to be in London?" she said; she came towards him, swinging her gloves; he was aware of the perfume of her garments, of the heavy soft sound of her moving velvet.
"I think I am leaving again for Paris, madam," he looked at her straightly. "Shall I not fetch Miss Chressham?"
"No," answered Lady Lyndwood. ”

“ Sir Francis eyed him keenly.
"I do not take your mood, my lord. This cannot be ignored."
The Earl lifted his shoulders.
"Oh, if you like to challenge every hack in Grub Street!"
"I do not think one of those wrote that, Lord Lyndwood."
"Who else? There is no one in town who has not been so written of. I am well used to it; and as to the lady——"
"As to the lady?" Sir Francis took him up with a strained voice and his eyes narrowed and grew fiery.
"Am I her protector?" asked my lord. "By Gad, it would give a colour to it if I interfered, would it not?" ”

“ Mr. Bowman looked at me sharply for a moment, and then passed in a flash from solemn sympathy to impassioned declamation. ‘When I think,’ he said, ‘of the language that man see fit to employ to me in this here parlour over no more a matter than a cask of beer—such a thing as I told him might happen any day of the week to a man with a family—though as it turned out he was quite under a mistake, and that I knew at the time, only I was that shocked to hear him I couldn’t lay my tongue to the right expression.’
He stopped abruptly and eyed me with some embarrassment. ”

“ The labourer had left his bush-harrow in a field hard by the common at the call of his master, shouting from the little knoll above the road. Matthew Bowman, the farmer, trudging across the common in the dewy morning-tide, bent on a little partridge-shooting in the turnips on the other side of this heathery waste, had lighted on this piteous group—a tramp, lying dead by the wayside, and an infant, unconscious of its desolation, lying asleep beside him. ”

“ The Master of Stair flushed darkly and put his hands to his black velvet cravat as if he would have torn it in rage.
"Who told you that?" he exclaimed fiercely.
"Does it matter?" she answered. "I know, and all England shall know. And you will not dare to touch them—not even you."
"Who told you," he repeated thickly. "What spies have I about my affairs? Who told you?"
Delia laid her hand on the door.
"You can arrest us all," she said quietly. "You can go to the furthest limits of your law, use your foully-won triumph, but you cannot prevent this truth from circling London." ”

“ Bowen is a delightfully laid-out town on the shores of Port Denison. It is inhabited by some six hundred people—mostly official loafers and spongers of the worst type. The community consists of boozy squatters, snobbish wives of snobbish officials, anaemic old maids, obsequious tradesmen on the verge of insolvency, and two respectable and hard-working persons—the latter are Chinamen. The 'tony' society of Bowen is about as lively and intelligent as that of a decaying Cathedral town in the old country. ”

“ She said a strange little word underneath her breath; the ape jumped up and tore away the man's hands while the girl bent to a run and sped through the gate. Theirry gave a cry of pain and rage, and glanced towards the convent; the door was closed; lady and lamp had disappeared in the darkness.
"Shut out!" whispered Theirry. "Shut out!"
He turned into the street and saw, by the scattered lanterns along the Appian Way, the figure of the dancer slipping fast towards the city gates. But he gained on her, and at sound of his clattering step she looked round. ”

“ He bent over the bed on which they had laid her slight figure, and his tumbled hair touched her hollow cheek. The Countess did not speak.
In the outer chamber was sudden commotion.
"'Tis my lady's father, nor will he be stopped."
Through the gaping crowds of servants a man's figure thrust forward. The Earl moved to the door of the inner chamber. Mr. Hilton, motioning aside those who sought to speak to or impede him, caught sight of my lord.
"Where is Lavinia?" he cried at a pitch of passion that was regardless of all about him. "I will speak to her, and to you, Lord Lyndwood." ”

“ Bowen, I'm bucking the Dickover interests in a certain direction. If you'll give me an option—"
"Nothing doing!" snapped Bowen with finality. "Dickover is talking cold cash. Of course my ore is nothing wonderful—"
Henderson produced a check-book. "I'll give you a check for five thousand to cover both claims," he said quickly. "Not a cent more. Yes or no?"
"Now, I like your way of doing business!" said Bowen cordially. "That's what I call a man's way. Five thousand wins. Got any legal forms around, Miss Ferguson? Are you a notary?" ”

“ He had never achieved the fraternal so completely.
"It's not that I don't think," she said. "I think a great deal. And as for wisdom—there is not much more to learn once one has grown up. I am as wise as I need be—for myself.'"
"When are you going back to England?"
"If you would do one or two things for me I needn't go back until the autumn."
"You can't stay here all the summer."
"No," she said, looking round at the cypresses—how pitiful she was, in Howard's garden. "They say I couldn't, it would be too hot; I must go somewhere else. ”

“ Sir John turned.
Close behind them stood Lady Dalrymple.
She saw by their faces their thought, and drew herself together defiantly "I was not spying," she cried feverishly. "You did not hear me enter."
"You were remarkably quiet, madam," remarked the Viscount dryly.
She gave him a frightened look and in a strained silence crossed to the hearth.
"I dropped a flower," she said faintly. "I came back for that."
She looked along the floor and in the chair.
"Do not trouble, madam," said her husband, watching her. "I make no doubt Mr. Wharton's hothouses can supply you with others." ”

“ Bowen turned toward the house.
"Wait a minute, Mrs. Walker," called a young voice, full of kindness; "here's my umberell. It'll save your bonnet, any how; and it's a real purty one. But didn't I hear you say somebody was sick over to your son's house?"
"Yes, darlin'," answered the old woman as she took the umbrella; "it's Johnny himself; he's right bad, they say. I just got word about an hour ago, and left everything, and started off. They think he's got the small-pox."
Jenny Bowen, the young girl who [Pg 13] had brought the umbrella, looked terribly frightened. ”

“ One can depend on him; he's not harum-scarum and full of whims. You can trust yourself with men like that."
"I hope I'm not as dull as I sound, my dear," said Bowdon patiently.
"Dull! Who said you were dull? I said I could [Pg 215] trust you, and I said I could trust Bertie Jewett. Oh, I don't mean to say he's fascinating like Ashley Mead. At least I suppose Ashley is fascinating to most people."
"Most women anyhow," murmured Bowdon.
"I consider," said Irene solemnly, "that Ora Pinsent has done him infinite harm." ”