In Her Own Right Part 29

She tossed her head ever so slightly, while a bantering look came into her eyes.

"I'm not much afraid of you, now--nor any time," she answered. "But you have more courage than I would have thought, Colin--decidedly more!"

XII

ONE LEARNED IN THE LAW

It was evening, when Croyden returned to Hampton--an evening which contained no suggestion of the Autumn he had left behind him on the Eastern Sh.o.r.e. It was raw, and damp, and chill, with the presage of winter in its cold; the leaves were almost gone from the trees, the blackening hand of frost was on flower and shrubbery. As he pa.s.sed up the dreary, deserted street, the wind was whistling through the branches over head, and moaning around the houses like spirits of the d.a.m.ned.

He turned in at Clarendon--shivering a little at the prospect. He was beginning to appreciate what a winter spent under such conditions meant, where one's enjoyments and recreations are circ.u.mscribed by the bounds of comparatively few houses and few people--people, he suspected, who could not understand what he missed, of the hurly-burly of life and amus.e.m.e.nt, even if they tried. Their ways were sufficient for them; they were eminently satisfied with what they had; they could not comprehend dissatisfaction in another, and would have no patience with it.

He could imagine the dismalness of Hampton, when contrasted with the brightness of Northumberland. The theatres, the clubs, the constant dinners, the evening affairs, the social whirl with all that it comprehended, compared with an occasional dinner, a rare party, interminable evenings spent, by his own fireside, alone! Alone! Alone!

To be sure, Miss Carrington, and Miss Borden, and Miss Lashiel, and Miss Tilghman, would be available, when they were home. But the winter was when they went visiting, he remembered, from late November until early April, and, at that period, the town saw them but little. There was the Hampton Club, of course, but it was worse than nothing--an opportunity to get mellow and to gamble, innocent enough to those who were habituated to it, but dangerous to one who had fallen, by adversity, from better things....

However, Macloud would be there, shortly, thank G.o.d! And the dear girls were not going for a week or so, he hoped. And, when the worst came, he could retire to the peacefulness of his library and try to eke out a four months' existence, with the books, and magazines and papers.

Moses held open the door, with a bow and a flourish, and the lights leaped out to meet him. It was some cheer, at least, to come home to a bright house, a full larder, faithful servants--and supper ready on the table, and tuned to even a Clubman's taste.

"Moses, do you know if Miss Carrington's at home?" he asked, the coffee on and his cigar lit.

"Ya.s.s, seh! her am home, seh, I seed she herse'f dis mornin' c.u.m down de parf from de front poach wid de dawg, seh."

Croyden nodded and went across the hall to the telephone.

Miss Carrington, herself, answered his call.--Yes, she intended to be home all evening. She would be delighted to see him and to hear a full account of himself.

He was rather surprised at his own alacrity, in finishing his cigar and changing his clothes--and he wondered whether it was the girl, or the companionship, or the opportunity to be free of himself? A little of all three, he concluded.... But, especially, the _girl_, as she came from the drawing-room to meet him.

"So you have really returned," she said, as he bowed over her slender fingers. "We were beginning to fear you had deserted us."

"You are quite too modest," he replied. "You don't appreciate your own attractions."

The "you" was plainly singular, but she refused to see it.

"Our own attractions require us to be modest," she returned; "with a--man of the world."

"Don't!" he laughed. "Whatever I may have been, I am, now, a man of Hampton."

She shook her head. "You can never be a man of Hampton."

"Why not, if I live among you?"

"If you live here--take on our ways, our beliefs, our mode of thinking, you may, in a score of years, grow like us, outwardly; but, inwardly, where the true like must start, _never_!"

"How do we differ?"

"Ask me something easier! You've been bred differently, used to different things, to doing them in a different way. We do things slowly, leisurely, with a fine disregard of time, you, with the modern rush, and bustle, and hurry. You are a man of the world--I repeat it--up to the minute in everything--never lagging behind, unless you wish. You never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day. We never do anything to-day that can be put off till to-morrow."

"And which do you prefer, the to-day or the to-morrow?" he asked.

"It depends on my humor, and my location, at the time--though, I must admit, the to-day makes for thrift, and business, and success in acquiring wealth."

"And success also in getting rid of it. It is a return toward the primitive condition--the survival of the fittest. There must be losers as well as acquirers."

"There's the pity of it!" she exclaimed, "that one must lose in order that another may gain."

"But as we are not in Utopia or Altruria," he smiled, "it will continue so to be. Why, even in Baltimore, they----"

"Oh, Baltimore is only an overgrown country town!" she exclaimed.

"Granted!" he replied. "With half a million population, it is as provincial as Hampton, and thanks G.o.d for it--the most smug, self-satisfied, self-sufficient munic.i.p.ality in the land, with its cobblestones, its drains-in-the-gutters, its how much-holier-than-thou air about everything."

"But it has excellent railway facilities!" she laughed.

"Because it happens to be on the main line between Washington and the North."

"At least, the people are nice, barring a few mushrooms who are making a great to-do."

"Yes, the people _are_ delightful!--And, when it comes to mushrooms, Northumberland has Baltimore beaten to a frazzle. We raise a fresh crop every night."

"Northumberland society must be exceedingly large!" she laughed.

"It is--but it's not overcrowded. About as many die every day, as are born every night; and, at any rate, they don't interfere with those who really belong--except to increase prices, and the cost of living, and clog the avenue with automobiles."

"That is progress!"

"Yes, it's progress! but whither it leads no one knows--to the devil, likely--or a lemon garden."

"'Blessed are the lemons on earth, for they shall be peaches in Heaven!'" she quoted.

"What a glorious peach your Miss Erskine will be," he replied.

"I'm afraid you don't appreciate the great honor the lady did you, in condescending to view the _treasures_ of Clarendon, and to talk about them afterward. To hear her, she is the most intimate friend you have in Hampton."

"Good!" he said, "I'm glad you told me. Somehow, I'm always drawing lemons."

"Am I a lemon?" she asked, abruptly.

"You! do you think you are?"

"One can never know."

"Have I drawn _you_?" he inquired.