Mrs. Conway

“ And, Bruce, I don't think anything could make her worldly or calculating. As much of the angel is about her as is possible for mortal to possess."
Conway looked suddenly up into the handsome, inscrutable face of the speaker.
"Clen, mon ami, if it had to be any one else than me, I wish it had been you that had married her. You are deserving of any blessing that can come into a good man's life."
"Thanks," his friend answered, simply, and moved aside to make way for Mrs. Conway, who swept out on the piazza and up to the side of her nephew. ”

“ Bruce Conway, the hero of the much talked of Norfolk duel, and his still [Pg 63] brilliant aunt, Mrs. Conway—both so well known in Washington circles—had taken a handsome suite of rooms at Willard's Hotel for the winter. And the newspapers—which will flatter any woman in society, be she fair or homely—added the information that Mrs. Conway had one of the belles of Norfolk for her guest—the lovely Miss C.—concluding with the stereotyped compliment that her marvelous beauty and varied accomplishments would create a stir in fashionable society ”

“ There was in Lady Conway much kindness and good-humour, always ready to find satisfaction in what was inevitable, and willing to see all at ease and happy around her—a quality which she shared with Louis, and which rendered her as warm and even caressing to 'our dear James' as if he had been the most welcome suitor in the world; and she often sincerely congratulated herself on the acquisition of a sensible gentleman to consult on business, and so excellent a brother for Walter. ”

“ But, mother, Gracie, dear, patient, long-suffering darling, is not to know anything about the child until we come home. General Winans wishes it. He wants to bring her the joyful tidings in his arms, and who can blame him? Mrs. Conway thinks it perfectly natural and right, so does Bruce, so do I—and do not you think so, too, dear mother? ”

“ To Bruce Conway the months of slow and tardy convalescence seemed like dead weights on his impatient, restless soul; to Grace Winans, in her splendid but strangely silent home, where but few guests were received, and which she rarely left, time passed as it did to Mariana in the Moated Grange. But for all that, the summer passed like a painful dream, and the "melancholy days" had come; "time does not stop for tears."
Mrs. Conway had prevailed on Bruce to compromise his intention of going abroad again by spending the winter with her amid the gayeties of Washington—the "Paris of America." ”

“ Conway has not yet returned from Mrs. Winans' hotel. In fact, I believe she thinks best to remain with her until she gets better. She has, as Miss Lulu informed me, taken rooms for herself, and Miss Clendenon, of course, who is to rejoin her there this evening—Conway remaining at his hotel."
"Ah! that is kind of Mrs. Conway," said Winans, surprisedly. "I should not have expected so much kind feeling from one who has always appeared to me a mere cold-hearted devotee of fashion and pleasure."
"The devil is not as black as he is painted," the captain quotes, sententiously. ”

“ Conway's ears, who is near the window (exactly what Lulu wishes him to do) . Long ago he has read, like an open page, the pure, adoring heart of this girl—no vanity in him, for it is so palpable to all; to a certain degree he loves her, admires her [Pg 94] fresh, young beauty, her sunny ways; means certainly some day to make her his wife; and something under her surface gayety now that reveals a wistful, unsatisfied yearning touches him to greater tenderness than he has ever felt for her before. ”

“ Phyl had a dim and fading recollection of an earlier home than this—a home that brought memories of more flowers and many more books than this brown-grey, pleasant place of later play-days; a home where her lisping voice had called father a grave, sad-faced scholar, who was in no wise like the laughing, merry-natured man for whom nearly all were wearing these fresh black frocks.
Weenie and the elder little girls were only half-sisters. As a high-spirited, beautiful girl of seventeen Mrs. Conway had won the love of a man double her own age, and one for whom all life had gone sadly. ”

“ Conway smiled her brightest smile on her idol.
"Let me see," glancing at her watch: "only ten o'clock. You can be off for your morning cigar and stroll on the avenue—when you come back we will have decided."
He rose, handsome, smiling, debonaire, but desperately ennuied, and glad, if truth must be told, to get away. Small talk was a bore to him just then, in his perturbed mood. He picked up Lulu's embroidered handkerchief that she had carelessly let fall to the floor, and presenting it with a jaunty "by-by," went his way followed by their admiring eyes. He was his aunt's acknowledged idol ”

“ Conway said, fervently.
Presently our old friend, Bruce, saunters in, handsome, perfumed, elegant as ever. He bows low to Mrs. Winans, offers a light congratulation on her improving health, and shakes hands with Lulu, who is blushing "celestial rosy red," for she has not seen him for a month before, and her fluttering pulses move unsteadily, her whole frame quivers with subdued ecstasy. Oh! love, conquerer of all hearts, whether high or lowly, what a passionate, blissful pain thou art! ”

“ Conway's hands fell to his sides again, and he sank, like a man suddenly weary, into his chair, behind the flag-draped table. There were tears in his eyes.
Next moment the audience were on their feet, cheering, waving, weeping. When the most impulsive and the warmest-hearted nation in the world is touched to the quick, it is not ashamed to say so. ”

“ Conway—no memory that she had of him would admit the possibility of the change that had been wrought in him.
There was a sign to be made—a look, a smile, a whisper—which would flash perception into her, knit into compact form the thoughts which his voice had troubled, and confess him her HUSBAND, though hollow-faced and wan; though stricken as with age; though presenting the ineffaceable memorials of grievous torture.
But, until this sign should be made, he must be a stranger to her; a puzzle, perhaps; a man of eccentric habits, and of an odd and striking aspect—but not her husband. ”

“ Conway approved of her child, but allowed no credit to Miss Exeter.
"It's so silly to worry about those things," she said. "I always knew that she would eventually begin to take care of her appearance. I shall write Anthony that feminine vanity has asserted itself just as I knew it would."
Mrs. Conway and Pearl and Durland and Antonia went to church, accompanied, as Pearl knew they would be accompanied, by Williams. He said it was entirely on account of Antonia—was a privilege to go to church with a little girl who looked as pretty as she did. ”

“ With the rosy dawn of the summer day consciousness returned to Bruce Conway—a dazed, half-consciousness, though, that only took in part of the scene, and a memory that only held Grace Winans. He muttered of her in his distracted slumbers; he waked and asked for her with a piteous anxiety that went to Lulu's tender heart.
"Had we better send for her?" she wistfully queried of her brother.
"No, indeed, little sister; it would only complicate matters. She would not come; he does not deserve it. Poor boy! I am sorry, but we can do nothing." ”

“ Conway, irascibly, and John went, nothing loth to indulge himself in a fit of laughter at the expense of his beloved young "Marse Bruce." But the little incident served to make Bruce more wide-awake, and rousing himself to realities the pansy-eyed phantom fled away from Mrs. Conway's well-appointed table.
"That boy is a perfect clown," complained the lady; "he's not fit to wait on the table at all. I shall have to secure a good dining-room servant." ”

“ Conway's eyes. She was so deeply hurt she could not even pretend that she wasn't; so hurt that she spoke naturally to the governess when for a second after luncheon, owing to the withdrawal in opposite directions of her two daughters, she found herself alone with the interloper.
"Young people are so cruel," she said. "What [Pg 104] more could I do for Dolly? I sacrifice poor little Antonia, I make the house hers—and she tells me practically she only stays with me because she has to." ”

“ There was a brief courtship, a brilliant marriage, under the rejoicing auspices of your aunt, and the beautiful Hon. Mrs. Winans was the belle of last season in Washington, as her husband was one of the most notable members of the Senate. She has been 'the fashion' ever since."
"So she was like all other women, after all," sneered Conway, in jealous rage. "Sold herself. So much beauty, intellect, and frivolity—for a brilliant establishment, a proud name, and high position."
"I think not. They live very happily, I am told. He is worthy any woman's love, and has won hers, no doubt. ”

“ Going out with Lady Conway was mere matter of duty and submission. She had not such high animal spirits as to find enjoyment in her gaieties, and her grave, pensive character only attained to walking through her part; she had seen little but the more frivolous samples of society, scorned and disliked all that was worldly and manoeuvring, and hung back from levity and coquetry with utter distaste. ”

“ Mrs. Conway went to the telephone and soon it was settled that they were to remain. "I don't know what Uncle Justus will say," Mrs. Conway observed when she reëntered the room. "He will think I am a very injudicious mother to keep you out of school so long."
"Not if you tell him I was sick," returned Edna, who secretly rather enjoyed the prospect of making such an announcement. Like most children, she liked the importance which an illness gave to her small self.
Saturday was an indoors day spent with Serena, Virginia and the big, red [117] book. ”

“ Mrs. Conway paid no heed to the comment, "you could leave a big apple on the doorsill for him, and so on, till in time I will venture to say he will learn that you wish him well and are trying to be friends. You must keep in your mind all the time that he is a poor, neglected, friendless, unhappy old man and that if you can succeed in bringing even a little sunshine into his life, you will be doing a great deal."
The girls were very sober for a few minutes, then Reliance said thoughtfully, "I believe I should like to try it anyway." ”

“ A small group of people bundled in heavy fur coats stood and chatted by the open doors of the hangar.
“I almost wish they’d come down,” said George Conway. “They must be half-dead for want of sleep, and they’ve already beaten the world’s record by hours. It must be a terrific strain, especially for Dorothy.”
“Oh,” cried Betty Mayo. “Isn’t she marvelous?—and Bill, too!”
“They’re a pair of young idiots!” growled old Mr. Lewis, whose false teeth were chattering. “But I must admit they’re first class sportsmen to stay up all this time for a friend!” ”

“ Conway's mocking aloofness caused her. She was still composing when, after church was over, they walked—Mrs. Conway [Pg 117] and Williams ahead and Pearl with Durland on one side and Antonia on the other—the few yards that separated the church from the public beach. Antonia's appearance was much noticed.
Pearl heard an elderly gentleman murmur to Mrs. Conway, "Your little daughter is lovely—lovely. Is beauty contagious?" And he gave a glance at Pearl, who was looking perfectly unconscious but caught Mrs. Conway's bitter reply: "Thank you ”

“ I had any nephew in the mill, or was related to anybody in here, sah. I hav'nt my visitin' cyard with me, but if I had 'em heah you'd find my entitlements, on readin', was somethin' lak this: Miss Maria Conway, of Zion!”
Kingsley flushed, rebuked. Then he adjusted his glasses again with agitated nervous attempts at a lilt. Then he struck his level and fell back on his natural instinct, unmixed, with attempts at being what he was not:
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Conway”—
“Git my entitlements right, please sah. I'm the only old maid lady of color you ever seed or ever will see again. ”

“ Fresh from that scene in the studio—with those words still ringing in her ears—even the great change she saw in his face did not move her to pity.
“I came,” she said, “on the eve of my marriage, to ask forgiveness of a man whom I fancied I had wronged. I am glad I came. I found him happy, and in society after his own heart.”
Her voice was cold and contemptuous. He quivered beneath her scorn. At that moment a cab passed. Eugenia called it.
“Leave me!” she said to Gerald. “Leave me! Our paths in life shall cross no more.” ”

“ Now, Miss Herbert’s half-formed plan of action when she found herself face to face with her ill-treated lover, had been something like this—she would walk up to him and simply say, “Gerald, I am come.” The rest must be left to him, but she believed, in spite of her weakness and treachery, he would freely forgive her all.
Gerald was not in the studio. The gas was half-turned down, and the clay casts on the wall looked grim and spectral. But, if Gerald was not in the room it was still inhabited. On a low couch—a couch covered by a rich Oriental rug—lay a woman, fast asleep. ”

“ Conway, Madam, and have so nothing new to write, that I might as well, methinks, begin and like the lady to her husband: "Je vous `ecris parce que je n'ai rien `a faire: je finis parce que je n'ai rien `a vous dire." Yes, I have two complaints to make, one of your ladyship, the other of myself. You tell me nothing of Lady Harriet; have you no tongue, or the French no eyes? or are her eyes employed in nothing but seeing? What a vulgar employment for a fine woman's eyes, after she has risen from her toilet! ”