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Emile Gaboriau - "Baron Trigault's Vengeance"

Honore de Balzac - "Paz"

Erskine Childers - "Riddle of the Sands"

Daniel Defoe - "Moll Flanders"

Lady Baltimore

O >> Owen Wister >> Lady Baltimore




"You'll allow me to say that you're not invited to criticise it. I was
decidedly put out with you for making me ridiculous. But you have admired
my cake with such enthusiasm that you are forgiven. And--may I hope that
you are getting on famously with the battle of Cowpens?"

I stared. "I'm frankly very much astonished that you should know about
that!"

"Oh, you're just known all about in Kings Port."

I wish that our miserable alphabet could in some way render the soft
Southern accent which she gave to her words. But it cannot. I could
easily misspell, if I chose; but how, even then, could I, for instance,
make you hear her way of saying "about"? "Aboot" would magnify it; and
besides, I decline to make ugly to the eye her quite special English,
that was so charming to the ear.

"Kings Port just knows all about you," she repeated with a sweet and
mocking laugh.

"Do you mind telling me how?"

She explained at once. "This place is death to all incognitos."

The explanation, however, did not, on the instant, enlighten me. "This?
The Woman's Exchange, you mean?"

"Why, to be sure! Have you not heard ladies talking together here?"

I blankly repealed her words. "Ladies talking?"

She nodded.

"Oh!" I cried. "How dull of me! Ladies talking! Of course!"

She continued. "It was therefore widely known that you were consulting
our South Carolina archives at the library--and then that notebook you
bring marked you out the very first day. Why, two hours after your first
lunch we just knew all about you!"

"Dear me!" said I.

"Kings Port is ever ready to discuss strangers," she further explained.
"The Exchange has been going on five years, and the resident families
have discussed each other so thoroughly here that everything is known;
therefore a stranger is a perfect boon." Her gayety for a moment
interrupted her, before she continued, always mocking and always sweet:
"Kings Port cannot boast intelligence offices for servants; but if you
want to know the character and occupation of your friends, come to the
Exchange!" How I wish I could give you the raciness, the contagion, of
her laughter! Who would have dreamed that behind her primness all this
frolic lay in ambush? "Why," she said, "I'm only a plantation girl; it's
my first week here, and I know every wicked deed everybody as done since
1812!"

She went back to her counter. It had been very merry; and as I was
settling the small debt for my lunch I asked: "Since this is the proper
place for information, will you kindly tell me whose wedding that cake is
for?"

She was astonished. "You don't know? And I thought you were quite a
clever Ya-- I beg your pardon--Northerner.

"Please tell me, since I know you're quite a clever Reb--I beg your
pardon--Southerner."

"Why, it's his own! Couldn't you see that from his bashfulness?"

"Ordering his own wedding cake?" Amazement held me. But the door opened,
one of the elderly ladies entered, the girl behind the counter stiffened
to primness in a flash, and I went out into Royal Street as the curly
dog's tail wagged his greeting to the newcomer.



III: Kings Port Talks

Of course I had at once left the letters of introduction which Aunt
Carola had given me; but in my ignorance of Kings Port hours I had found
everybody at dinner when I made my first round of calls between half-past
three and five--an experience particularly regrettable, since I had
hurried my own dinner on purpose, not then aware that the hours at my
boarding-house were the custom of the whole town. (These hours even since
my visit to Kings Port, are beginning to change. But such backsliding is
much condemned.) Upon an afternoon some days later, having seen in the
extra looking-glass, which I had been obliged to provide for myself, that
the part in my back hair was perfect, I set forth again, better informed.

As I rang the first doorbell, another visitor came up the steps, a
beautiful old lady in widow's dress, a cardcase in her hand.

"Have you rung, sir?" said she, in a manner at once gentle and
voluminous.

"Yes, madam."

Nevertheless she pulled it again. "It doesn't always ring," she explained,
"unless one is accustomed to it, which you are not."

She addressed me with authority, exactly like Aunt Carola, and with even
greater precision in her good English and good enunciation. Unlike the
girl at the Exchange, she had no accent; her language was simply the
perfection of educated utterance; it also was racy with the free
censoriousness which civilized people of consequence are apt to exercise
the world over. "I was sorry to miss your visit," she began (she knew me,
you see, perfectly); "you will please to come again soon, and console me
for my disappointment. I am Mrs. Gregory St. Michael, and my house is in
Le Maire Street (Pronounced in Kings Port, Lammarree) as you have been so
civil as to find out. And how does your Aunt Carola do in these
contemptible times? You can tell her from me that vulgarization is
descending, even upon Kings Port."

"I cannot imagine that!" I exclaimed.

"You cannot imagine it because you don't know anything about it, young
gentleman! The manners of some of our own young people will soon be as
dishevelled as those in New York. Have you seen our town yet, or is it
all books with you? You should not leave without a look at what is still
left of us. I shall be happy if you will sit in my pew on Sunday morning.
Your Northern shells did their best in the bombardment--did you say that
you rang? I think you had better pull it again; all the way out; yes,
like that--in the bombardment, but we have our old church still, in spite
of you. Do you see the crack in that wall? The earthquake did it. You're
spared earthquakes in the North, as you seem to be spared pretty much
everything disastrous--except the prosperity that's going to ruin you
all. We're better off with our poverty than you. Just ring the bell once
more, and then we'll go. I fancy Julia--I fancy Mrs. Weguelin St.
Michael--has run out to stare at the Northern steam yacht in the harbor.
It would be just like her. This house is historic itself. Shabby enough
now, to be sure! The great-aunt of my cousin, John Mayrant (who is going
to be married next Wednesday, to such a brute of a girl, poor boy!),
lived here in 1840, and made an answer to the Earl of Mainridge that put
him in his place. She was our famous Kings Port wit, and at the reception
which her father (my mother's uncle) gave the English visitor, he
conducted himself as so many Englishmen seem to think they can in this
country. Miss Beaufain (pronounced in Kings Port, Bowfayne), as she was
then, asked the Earl how he liked America; and he replied, very well,
except for the people, who were so vulgar. 'What can you expect?' said
Miss Beaufain; 'we're descended from the English.' Mrs. St. Michael is
out, and the servant has gone home. Slide this card under the door, with
your own, and come away."

She took me with her, moving through the quiet South Place with a
leisurely grace and dignity at which my spirit rejoiced; she was so
beautiful, and so easy, and afraid of nothing and nobody! (This must be
modified. I came later to suspect that they all stood in some dread of
their own immediate families.)

In the North, everybody is afraid of something: afraid of the
legislature, afraid of the trusts, afraid of the strikes, afraid of what
the papers will say, of what the neighbors will say, of what the cook
will say; and most of all, and worst of all, afraid to be different from
the general pattern, afraid to take a step or speak a syllable that shall
cause them to be thought unlike the monotonous millions of their
fellow-citizens; the land of the free living in ceaseless fear! Well, I
was already afraid of Mrs. Gregory St. Michael. As we walked and she
talked, I made one or two attempts at conversation, and speedily found
that no such thing was the lady's intention: I was there to listen; and
truly I could wish nothing more agreeable, in spite of my desire to hear
further about next Wednesday's wedding and the brute of a girl. But to
this subject Mrs. St. Michael did not return. We crossed Worship Street
and Chancel Street, and were nearing the East Place where a cannon was
being shown me, a cannon with a history and an inscription concerning the
"war for Southern independence, which I presume your prejudice calls the
Rebellion," said my guide. "There's Mrs. St. Michael now, coming round
the corner. Well, Julia, could you read the yacht's name with your naked
eye? And what's the name of the gambler who owns it? He's a gambler, or
he couldn't own a yacht--unless his wife's a gambler's daughter."

"How well you're feeling to-day, Maria!" said the other lady, with a
gentle smile.

"Certainly. I have been talking for twenty minutes." I was now presented
to Mrs. Weguelin St. Michael, also old, also charming, in widow's dress
no less in the bloom of age than Mrs. Gregory, but whiter and very
diminutive. She shyly welcomed me to Kings Port. "Take him home with
you, Julia. We pulled your bell three times, and it's too damp for you to
be out. Don't forget," Mrs. Gregory said to me, "that you haven't told me
a word about your Aunt Carola, and that I shall expect you to come and do
it." She went slowly away from us, up the East Place, tall, graceful,
sweeping into the distance like a ship. No haste about her dignified
movement, no swinging of elbows, nothing of the present hour!

"What a beautiful girl she must have been!" I murmured aloud,
unconsciously.

"No, she was not a beauty in her youth," said my new guide in her shy
voice, "but always fluent, always a wit. Kings Port has at times thought
her tongue too downright. We think that wit runs in her family, for young
John Mayrant has it; and her first-cousin-once-removed put the Earl of
Mainridge in his place at her father's ball in 1840. Miss Beaufain (as
she was then) asked the Earl how he liked America; and he replied, very
well, except for the people, who were so vulgar. 'What can you expect?'
said Miss Beaufain; 'we're descended from the English.' I am very sorry
for Maria--for Mrs. St. Michael--just at present. Her young cousin, John
Mayrant, is making an alliance deeply vexatious to her. Do you happen to
know Miss Hortense Rieppe?"

I had never heard of her.

"No? She has been North lately. I thought you might have met her. Her
father takes her North, I believe, whenever any one will invite them.
They have sometimes managed to make it extend through an unbroken year.
Newport, I am credibly informed, greatly admires her. We in Kings Port
have never (except John Mayrant, apparently) seen anything in her beauty,
which Northerners find so exceptional."

"What is her type?" I inquired.

"I consider that she looks like a steel wasp. And she has the assurance
to call herself a Kings Port girl. Her father calls himself a general,
and it is repeated that he ran away at the battle of Chattanooga. I hope
you will come to see me another day, when you can spare time from the
battle of Cowpens. I am Mrs. Weguelin St. Michael, the other lady is Mrs.
Gregory St. Michael. I wonder if you will keep us all straight?" And
smiling, the little lady, whose shy manner and voice I had found to veil
as much spirit as her predecessor's, dismissed me and went up her steps,
letting herself into her own house.

The boy in question, the boy of the cake, John Mayrant, was coming out of
the gate at which I next rang. The appearance of his boyish figure and
well-carried head struck me anew, as it had at first; from his whole
person one got at once a strangely romantic impression. He looked at me,
made as if he would speak, but passed on. Probably he had been hearing as
much about me as I had been hearing about him. At this house the black
servant had not gone home for the night, and if the mistress had been out
to take a look at the steam yacht, she had returned.

"My sister," she said, presenting me to a supremely fine-looking old
lady, more chiselled, more august, than even herself. I did not catch
this lady's name, and she confined herself to a distant, though perhaps
not unfriendly, greeting. She was sitting by a work-table, and she
resumed some embroidery of exquisite appearance, while my hostess talked
to me.

Both wore their hair in a simple fashion to suit their years, which must
have been seventy or more; both were dressed with the dignity that such
years call for; and I may mention here that so were all the ladies above
a certain age in this town of admirable old-fashioned propriety. In New
York, in Boston, in Philadelphia, ladies of seventy won't be old ladies
any more; they're unwilling to wear their years avowedly, in quiet
dignity by their firesides; they bare their bosoms and gallop egregiously
to the ball-rooms of the young; and so we lose a particular graciousness
that Kings Port retains, a perspective of generations. We happen all at
once, with no background, in a swirl of haste and similarity.

One of the many things which came home to me during the conversation that
now began (so many more things came home than I can tell you!) was that
Mrs. Gregory St. Michael's tongue was assuredly "downright" for Kings
Port. This I had not at all taken in while she talked to me, and her
friend's reference to it had left me somewhat at a loss. That better
precision and choice of words which I have mentioned, and the manner in
which she announced her opinions, had put me in mind of several fine
ladles whom I had known in other parts of the world; but hers was an
individual manner, I was soon to find, and by no means the Kings Port
convention. This convention permitted, indeed, condemnations of one's
neighbor no less sweeping, but it conveyed them in a phraseology far more
restrained.

"I cannot regret your coming to Kings Port," said my hostess, after we
had talked for a little while, and I had complimented the balmy March
weather and the wealth of blooming flowers; "but I fear that Fanning is
not a name that you will find here. It belongs to North Carolina."

I smiled and explained that North Carolina Fannings were useless to me.
"And, if I may be so bold, how well you are acquainted with my errand!"

I cannot say that my hostess smiled, that would be too definite; but I
can say that she did not permit herself to smile, and that she let me see
this repression. "Yes," she said, "we are acquainted with your errand,
though not with its motive."

I sat silent, thinking of the Exchange.

My hostess now gave me her own account of why all things were known to
all people in this town. "The distances in your Northern cities are
greater, and their population is much greater. There are but few of us in
Kings Port." In these last words she plainly told me that those "few"
desired no others. She next added: "My nephew, John Mayrant, has spoken
of you at some length."

I bowed. "I had the pleasure to see and hear him order a wedding cake."

"Yes. From Eliza La Heu (pronounced Layhew), my niece; he is my nephew,
she is my niece on the other side. My niece is a beginner at the
Exchange. We hope that she will fulfil her duties there in a worthy
manner. She comes from a family which is schooled to meet
responsibilities."

I bowed again; again it seemed fitting. "I had not, until now, known the
charming girl's name," I murmured.

My hostess now bowed slightly. "I am glad that you find her charming."

"Indeed, yes!" I exclaimed.

"We, also, are pleased with her. She is of good family--for the
up-country."

Once again our alphabet fails me. The peculiar shade of kindness, of
recognition, of patronage, which my agreeable hostess (and all Kings Port
ladies, I soon noticed) imparted to the word "up-country" cannot be
conveyed except by the human voice--and only a Kings Port voice at that.
It is a much lighter damnation than what they make of the phrase "from
Georgia," which I was soon to hear uttered by the lips of the lady. "And
so you know about his wedding cake?"

"My dear madam, I feel that I shall know about everything."

Her gray eyes looked at me quietly for a moment. "That is possible. But
although we may talk of ourselves to you, we scarcely expect you to talk
of ourselves to us."

Well, my pertness had brought me this quite properly! And I received it
properly. "I should never dream--" I hastened to say; "even without your
warning. I find I'm expected to have seen the young lady of his choice,"
I now threw out. My accidental words proved as miraculous as the staff
which once smote the rock. It was a stream, indeed, which now broke forth
from her stony discretion. She began easily. "It is evident that you have
not seen Miss Rieppe by the manner in which you allude to her--although
of course, in comparison with my age, she is a young girl." I think that
this caused me to open my mouth.

"The disparity between her years and my nephew's is variously stated,"
continued the old lady. "But since John's engagement we have all of us
realized that love is truly blind."

I did not open my mouth any more; but my mind's mouth was wide open.

My hostess kept it so. "Since John Mayrant was fifteen he has had many
loves; and for myself, knowing him and believing in him as I do, I feel
confident that he will make no connection distasteful to the family when
he really comes to marry."

This time I gasped outright. "But--the cake!--next Wednesday!"

She made, with her small white hand, a slight and slighting gesture. "The
cake is not baked yet, and we shall see what we shall see." From this
onward until the end a pinkness mounted in her pale, delicate cheeks, and
deep, strong resentment burned beneath her discreetly expressed
indiscretions. "The cake is not baked, and I, at least, am not
solicitous. I tell my cousin, Mrs. Gregory St. Michael, that she must not
forget it was merely his phosphates. That girl would never have looked at
John Mayrant had it not been for the rumor of his phosphates. I suppose
some one has explained to you her pretensions of birth. Away from Kings
Port she may pass for a native of this place, but they come from Georgia.
It cannot be said that she has met with encouragement from us; she,
however, easily recovers from such things. The present generation of
young people in Kings Port has little enough to remind us of what we
stood for in manners and customs, but we are not accountable for her, nor
for her father. I believe that he is called a general. His conduct at
Chattanooga was conspicuous for personal prudence. Both of them are
skillful in never knowing poor people--but the Northerners they consort
with must really be at a loss how to bestow their money. Of course, such
Northerners cannot realize the difference between Kings Port and Georgia,
and consequently they make much of her. Her features do undoubtedly
possess beauty. A Newport woman--the new kind--has even taken her to
Worth! And yet, after all, she has remained for John. We heard a great
deal of her men, too. She took care of that, of course. John Mayrant
actually followed her to Newport.

"But," I couldn't help crying out, "I thought he was so poor!"

"The phosphates," my hostess explained. "They had been discovered on his
land. And none of her New York men had come forward. So John rushed back
happy." At this point a very singular look came over the face of my
hostess, and she continued: "There have been many false reports (and
false hopes in consequence) based upon the phosphate discoveries. It was
I who had to break it to him--what further investigation had revealed.
Poor John!"

"He has, then, nothing?" I inquired.

"His position in the Custom House, and a penny or two from his mother's
fortune."

"But the cake?" I now once again reminded her.

My hostess lifted her delicate hand and let it fall. Her resentment at
the would-be intruder by marriage still mounted. "Not even from that pair
would I have believed such a thing possible!" she exclaimed; and she went
into a long, low, contemplative laugh, looking not at me, but at the
fire. Our silent companion continued to embroider. "That girl," my
hostess resumed, "and her discreditable father played on my nephew's
youth and chivalry to the tune of--well, you have heard the tune."

"You mean--you mean--?" I couldn't quite take it in.

"Yes. They rattled their poverty at him until he offered and they
accepted."

I must have stared grotesquely now. "That--that--the cake--and that sort
of thing--at his expense?

"My dear sir, I shall be glad if you can find me anything that they have
ever done at their own expense!"

I doubt if she would ever have permitted her speech such freedom had not
the Rieppes been "from Georgia"; I am sure that it was anger--family
anger, race anger--which had broken forth; and I think that her silent,
severe sister scarcely approved of such breaking forth to me, a stranger.
But indignation had worn her reticence thin, and I had happened to press
upon the weak place. After my burst of exclamation I came back to it. "So
you think Miss Rieppe will get out of it?"

"It is my nephew who will 'get out of it,' as you express it."

I totally misunderstood her. "Oh!" I protested stupidly. "He doesn't look
like that. And it takes all meaning from the cake."

"Do not say cake to me again!" said the lady, smiling at last. "And--will
you allow me to tell you that I do not need to have my nephew, John
Mayrant, explained to me by any one? I merely meant to say that he, and
not she, is the person who will make the lucky escape. Of course, he is
honorable--a great deal too much so for his own good. It is a misfortune,
nowadays, to be born a gentleman in America. But, as I told you, I am not
solicitous. What she is counting on--because she thinks she understands
true Kings Port honor, and does not in the least--is his renouncing her
on account of the phosphates--the bad news, I mean. They could live on
what he has--not at all in her way, though--and besides, after once
offering his genuine, ardent, foolish love--for it was genuine enough at
the time--John would never--"

She stopped; but I took her up. "Did I understand you to say that his
love was genuine at the lime?"

"Oh, he thinks it is now--insists it is now! That is just precisely what
would make him--do you not see?--stick to his colors all the closer."

"Goodness!" I murmured. "What a predicament!"

But my hostess nodded easily. "Oh, no. You will see. They will all see."

I rose to take my leave; my visit, indeed, had been, for very interest,
prolonged beyond the limits of formality--my hostess had attended quite
thoroughly to my being entertained. And at this point the other, the more
severe and elderly lady, made her contribution to my entertainment. She
had kept silence, I now felt sure, because gossip was neither her habit
nor to her liking. Possibly she may have also felt that her displeasure
had been too manifest; at any rate, she spoke out of her silence in cold,
yet rich, symmetrical tones.

"This, I understand, is your first visit to Kings Port?"

I told her that it was.

She laid down her exquisite embroidery. "It has been thought a place
worth seeing. There is no town of such historic interest at the North."

Standing by my chair, I assured her that I did not think there could be.

"I heard you allude to my half-sister-in-law, Mrs. Weguelin St. Michael.
It was at the house where she now lives that the famous Miss Beaufain (as
she was then) put the Earl of Mainridge in his place, at the reception
which her father gave the English visitor in 1840. The Earl conducted
himself as so many Englishmen seem to think they can in this country; and
on her asking him how he liked America, he replied, very well, except for
the people, who were so vulgar.

"'What can you expect?' said Miss Beaufain; 'we're descended from the
English.'"

"But I suppose you will tell me that your Northern beauties can easily
outmatch such wit."

I hastened to disclaim any such pretension; and having expressed my
appreciation of the anecdote, I moved to the door as the stately lady
resumed her embroidery.

My hostess had a last word for me. "Do not let the cake worry you."

Outside the handsome old iron gate I looked at my watch and found that
for this day I could spend no more time upon visiting.



IV: THE GIRL BEHIND THE COUNTER--I

I fear--no; to say one "fears" that one has stepped aside from the narrow
path of duty, when one knows perfectly well that one has done so, is a
ridiculous half-dodging of the truth; let me dismiss from my service such
a cowardly circumlocution, and squarely say that I neglected the Cowpens
during certain days which now followed. Nay, more; I totally deserted
them. Although I feel quite sure that to discover one is a real king's
descendant must bring an exultation of no mean order to the heart,
there's no exultation whatever in failing to discover this, day after
day. Mine is a nature which demands results, or at any rate signs of
results coming sooner or later. Even the most abandoned fisherman
requires a bite now and then; but my fishing for Fannings had not yet
brought me one single nibble--and I gave up the sad sport for a while.
The beautiful weather took me out of doors over the land, and also over
the water, for I am a great lover of sailing; and I found a little
cat-boat and a little negro, both of which suited me very well. I spent
many delightful hours in their company among the deeps and shallows of
these fair Southern waters.

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