CHAPTER IV.

MOUNTAINS AND MORE MOTHER-IN-LAW.

So the bells were rung, metaphorically speaking, and we were wed. I had a long leave of absence from the banking-house in which I held a responsible and confidential position, and we started for the mountains, leaving mamma Pinkerton to put things to rights and follow us in a fortnight, when we had decided to settle down for a month's quiet stay in a picturesque town of the mountain region. Oh, the unrestrained joy of that fortnight! Everybody at the hotels seemed to know by instinct that we were a newly-married pair, and knowing glances pa.s.sed between them. But what did we care? With pride and a conscious embarra.s.sment that made my hand tremble, I wrote on the registers in a bold hand "Charles Travers and wife." I asked for the best room with a pleasant out-look. The smiling clerk, trained to dissimulation, would appear as unconscious as the blank safe behind him, but he knew all the while, the sly rascal, that we were on a wedding trip, and he paid special attention to our comfort. We saw the glories and wonders of the mountains, and shared their inspiration as with a single heart. We rose early to drink the clear air and greet the rising sun together. We strolled out in the evening to romantic spots, and there, with arms around each other, as we walked or stood gazing on the scene and listening to the rustling breeze, we were happy. For two weeks our lives blended with each other and with nature, and it was with a sigh that we mounted the lumbering stage to take up our sojourn in the retired town on the hills. We came to the little hotel just at night, and were stared at and commented upon by those who had been there three days and a.s.sumed the air of having had possession for years. We were tired, and kept aloof that evening, and the next day mother-in-law arrived.

As she dismounted from the coach, she gave the driver a severe warning to be careful of her trunk, an iron-bound treasure that would have defied the efforts of the most determined baggage-smasher. Bessie had flown to meet her, and their greeting was affectionate; but to me the old lady presented a hand encased in a mitt, or sort of glove with amputated fingers, and gave me a stately, "I hope you are well, sir,"

that rather made me feel sick. She looked full at me in her steady and commanding way, as much as to say, "Well, you have committed no atrocious crime yet, I suppose; but I am rather surprised at it."

If there is anything I pride myself on, it is self-possession and a willingness to face anybody and give as good as I get, but that magnificently imperious way of looking with those large eyes always disconcerted me. I could not brace myself enough to meet them with any show of impudence, though the old lady had not ceased to regard that as the chief trait of my character. As Mrs. Pinkerton trod with stately step the rude piazza of that summer hotel, she put her eye-gla.s.ses on and surveyed its occupants with a look that made them shrink into themselves and feel ashamed to be sitting about in that idle way. I believe the old lady's eyesight was good enough, and that she used her gla.s.ses, with their gold bows and the slender chain with which they were suspended about her neck, for effect. I noticed that if they were not on she always put them on to look at anything, and if they happened to be on she took them off for the same purpose.

"Well," she said, going into the little parlor, and looking from the windows, "this really seems to be a fine situation. The view of the mountains is quite grand."

"Very kind of you to approve of the mountains, but you could give them points on grandeur," I thought; but I merely remarked, "We find it quite pleasant here."

She turned and glanced at me without reply, as much as to say, "Who addressed you, sir? You would do well to speak when you are spoken to."

I was abashed, but was determined to do the agreeable so far as I could, in spite of the rebuke of those eyes.

"The house doesn't seem to me to be very attractive," she continued, glancing around with a gaze that took in everything through all the part.i.tion walls, and a.s.suming a tone that meant, "I am speaking to you, Bessie, and no one else." "What sort of people are there here?"

"Oh, some very pleasant people, I should judge," said Bessie, "but we have been here only one day, you know, and have made no acquaintances to speak of. Charlie's friend, Fred Marston, from the city, is here with his wife; and I met a young lady to whom I took quite a fancy this morning, a Miss Van Duzen. She is quite wealthy, and an orphan, and is here with her uncle, a fine-looking gentleman, who is president of a bank, or an insurance company, or some thing of the sort. You saw him, I think, on the piazza,-the large man, with gray side-whiskers, white vest, and heavy gold chain."

"Yes, I noticed him. A pompous-looking old gentleman, isn't he?"

"Oh, he is dignified in his manner, but not at all pompous," was the reply.

"Well, I call him pompous, if looks mean anything," said the mother, with the air of one to whom looks were quite sufficient. "I think I will go to my room," she added, and turned a glance on me, as much as to say, "You needn't come, sir." I had no intention of going, and wandered out on the piazza, feeling as though Bessie had almost been taken away from me again.

When she rejoined me, leaving her mother above stairs, I asked, "What does she think of her room?"

"Well, it doesn't quite suit her. She thinks the furniture scanty and shabby, water scarce, towels rather coa.r.s.e, and she can't endure the sight of a kerosene lamp; but she will make herself quite comfortable, I dare say."

"And everybody else uncomfortable," I felt like adding, but restrained myself.

She came down to tea, and being offered a seat on the other side of me from Bessie, firmly declined it, and took the one on the other side of her daughter from me. As she unfolded her napkin she took in the whole table with a searching glance, and had formed a quick estimate of everybody sitting around it. Miss Clara Van Duzen and Mr. Desmond, her uncle, sat opposite, and an introduction across the table took place.

The young lady was vivacious and talkative, and tried to make herself agreeable, but my mother-in-law did not like what she afterwards called her "chatter," and set her down as a frivolous young person. "Miss Van,"

as everybody called her, with her own approval,-for, as she said, she detested the Duzen which her Dutch ancestors had bequeathed her with their other property,-was of New York Knickerbocker origin, now living with her uncle in Boston, and was by no means frivolous, though uncommonly lively. She had fine, brown eyes, beautiful hair, and a complexion that defied sun and wind. It had the rosy glow of health, and indicated a good digestion and high spirits. Mr. Desmond seemed to be mostly white vest, immaculate shirt-front, and gold chain, the last-named article being very heavy and meandering through the b.u.t.ton-holes of his vest and up around his invisible neck. He said little, and was evidently not much given to light conversation. He was very gracious in his attentions to the ladies, however, and seemed to pay special deference to Mrs. Pinkerton. I afterwards learned that he was a widower of long standing, without chick or child, and the guardian of his niece, whom he regarded with great admiration.

Down at the other end of the table was Marston, evidently giving vent to his impatience about something, and his wife, with fierce eyes, telling him, in manner if not in words, not to make a fool of himself.

The rest of the company was made up either of transient visitors or of persons with whom this story has nothing in particular to do.

As we emerged on the piazza after tea, Fred, who had impolitely gone out in advance, called out, "Charlie, old boy, come over here and have a smoke!"

I must confess that these long sittings on the piazzas of summer hotels had lured me back to my old habits, which I had forsworn in my efforts to conciliate Bessie's mother. Bessie had encouraged me in it, for to tell the truth she rather liked the fragrance of a good cigar, and dearly loved to see me enjoying it. It was my nature to defy the whole world and be master of my own habits, but I had felt a mean inclination, after mother-in-law joined the party, to slink away and smoke on the sly. There was nothing for it now, however, but to put on a bold face, or play the hypocrite and pretend I didn't smoke. The latter I would not do, and if I had attempted it, it wouldn't go down with Fred, and I should have been in a worse predicament than ever. I went boldly across the piazza and took the proffered cigar. Glancing out at the corner of my eye as I was lighting it, I saw my mother-in-law regarding me through her gla.s.ses with increased disfavor. She did not, however, seem to be surprised, and doubtless believed me capable of any perfidy.

"I say, Charlie, old boy, let's have a game of billiards," said Fred, after a few puffs. "I'll give you twenty points and beat you out of your boots." Now I was very fond of billiards, and usually didn't care who knew it, but Mrs. Pinkerton did not approve of the game, and had no knowledge that I indulged in it. But Fred would speak in that absurd shouting way of his, and all the ladies heard him. Again I mustered up resolution and went into the billiard room, but I played very indifferently, and was thinking all the time of my mother-in-law and her opinion of me. I really wanted to get into her good graces, but it required the sacrifice of all my own inclinations, and I despised a man who deliberately played the hypocrite to win anybody's favor.

After two or three listless games I said to Fred, "I guess I will join the ladies." I was feeling some qualms of conscience for staying away from Bessie a whole hour at once.

"Oh, hang the ladies!" was Fred's graceless response; "they can take care of themselves. My wife gets along well enough without me, I know, and yours will soon learn to be quite comfortable without your guardian presence; besides she's got her mother now. By the way, what a mighty grand old dowager Mrs. Pink is!"

"Pinkerton is her name," I said, a little haughtily, as if resenting the liberty he took with my mother-in-law's cognomen.

"Oh, yes, I know, but the name is too long; and besides, she reminds one of a full-blown pink, a little on the fade, perhaps, but still with a good deal of bloom about her. Is she going to live with you? Precious fine time you will have!" he added, having received his answer by a nod.

"She'll boss the shebang, you bet!"

"Oh, I guess not," I answered, not liking his slangy way of talking about my affairs, and resolving in my own mind that I would be master in my own house.

"Well, then there'll be a fine old tussle for supremacy, and don't you forget it!"

With this remark Fred wandered off down the dusty road, humming Madame Angot, and I drew up a chair by Bessie's side. She had evidently been wishing I would come. Mr. Desmond was sitting a little apart from the rest, twisting his fingers in his watch-chain and looking intently at the mountain-top opposite, as if expecting somebody to come over with a dispatch for him. Mrs. Pinkerton sat by her daughter's side in calm grandeur, her gray puffs-that fine silver-gray that comes prematurely on aristocratic brows-seeming like appendages of a queenly diadem. Miss Van had been diverting the company with a lively account of her day's adventures. She was always having adventures, and had a faculty of relating them that was little short of genius.

"Well, my dear, are you having a good time?" I murmured in Bessie's ear.

"Oh, yes; but I was feeling a little lonesome without you."

The conversation degenerated into commonplace about the scenery and points of interest in the neighborhood, and after a while the company dispersed with polite good-evenings.

When we reached our room, I remarked to Bessie, who seemed more quiet than usual, "I hope your mother will like it here."

"Oh, yes, I guess she will like it when she has been here a little while," was the answer. "You know she has not been away from home much, of late years, except to the seaside with the Watsons and other of her old friends, and she does not adapt herself readily to strange company."

I said nothing more, but was absorbed in thought about my mother-in-law.

It is evident by this time that she was no ordinary woman, no coa.r.s.e or waspish mother-in-law, but a woman of good breeding and the highest character. She was intelligent and well-informed, a consistent member of the Episcopal Church, with the highest views of propriety and a reverential regard for the rules of conduct laid down by good society.

This made her all the harder to deal with. If she were a common or vulgar sort of mother-in-law, I could a.s.sert my prerogatives without compunction; and I was forced to admit that she was a very worthy woman, and not given to petty meddling, but I felt that her presence was an awful restraint. Without her we could have such good times, going and coming as we pleased, and acting with entire freedom; but she must be counted in, and was a factor that materially affected the result. She could not be ignored; her opinions could not be disregarded. That would be rude, and besides, their influence would make itself felt. Strange, the irresistible effect of a presence upon one! She might not openly interfere or directly oppose, but there she was, and she didn't approve of me or like my friends, could not fall in with my ways or my wishes, and make one of any company in which I should feel at ease, and I knew that her presence would be depressing, and spoil our summer's pleasure; and after that was over and we were at home, what? Well, sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. We slept the sound sleep that mountain and country quiet brings, and took the chances of the future.

CHAPTER V.

THE RISE AND FALL.

During the next week of our stay at the Fairview hotel, it grew rather dull. There was little to do but drive on the long country roads, or wander over the hills and in the fields and woods. I could have found plenty of pleasure in that with Bessie and a party of congenial friends, but it didn't seem to be right always to leave my worthy mother-in-law behind, with her crochet work or the last new novel from the city, on the sunny piazza or in her dim little chamber. She was not averse to drives, in fact enjoyed them very much, but she seemed to divine that I did not really want her company, though I protested, as became a dutiful son-in-law, that I should be very glad to take her at any time. She did go with us once or twice, but the laughter and romping behavior which gave our rides their chief zest were extinguished, and we jogged along in the most proper manner, professing admiration for the outlines of the hills and the far-away stretches of scenery between the more distant mountains. We returned as quiet and demure as if we had been to a funeral. Mrs. Pinkerton saw the effect, and with her fine feeling of independence, she politely but firmly declined to go afterwards. As for walking on anything but level sidewalks or gravel-paths, she could not think of such a thing. The idea of her climbing a hill or getting herself over a fence seemed ridiculous to anybody that knew her.

So it was that we were continually forced to leave her behind, or deny ourselves the chief recreation of the country. I was sincerely disinclined to slight her in any way, and desirous of contributing to her pleasure, but what could I do? A fellow can't get an iceberg to enjoy tropical sunshine. Our dislike to leave the old lady alone, although she insisted that she didn't mind it at all, led us to pa.s.s a large portion of each day, sometimes all day, about the house. It was "deuced stupid," to use Marston's elegant phrase, but there was little to do for it. To be sure, there was Desmond, "old Dives," Fred called him. He seldom went out of sight of the house, but he had a perfect mail-bag of newspapers and letters every morning, and spent the forenoon indoors, holding sweet communion with them and answering his correspondents. In the afternoon he sat on the piazza by the hour, contemplating the mountain-top that had such a fascination for him. He had a prodigious amount of information on all manner of subjects, and a quick and accurate judgment; but he was generally very reticent, as he tipped back in his chair and twisted his fingers in and out of that fine gold chain. My mother-in-law, from her shady nook of the piazza, would glance at him occasionally from her work or her book, as much as to say, "It is strange people can't make some effort to be agreeable, instead of being so stiff and dignified all the afternoon"; but he seemed unconscious of her looks and her mental comments. His thoughts were probably in the marts of trade.

Fred was continually going off to distant towns, or down to the great hotels in the mountains, for livelier diversion. His wife often insisted on going with him, to his evident disgust, not because she cared to be in his company, but because she wanted to go to the same places and could not well go alone. Now, Fred wasn't a bad fellow at heart. I had known him for years, and used to like him exceedingly. But he was left without a father at an early age, with a considerable fortune, and his mother was indulgent and not overwise. He got rather fast as he grew up, and then he contracted a thoughtless marriage with Lizzie Carleton, a handsome and stylish young lady, fond of dress and gay society, and without a notion of domestic responsibility or duty. Like most women who are not positively bad, she had in her heart a desire to be right, but she didn't know how. She was all impulse, and gave way to whims and feelings, as if helpless in any effort to manage her own waywardness. As a natural consequence there were constant jars between the pair. Fred took to his clubs and mingled with men of the race-course and the billiard halls, and Lizzie beguiled herself as best she could with her fashionable friends.

And where was Miss Van Duzen these long and tedious days? They were never tedious to her, for she was always on the go. She would go off alone on interminable strolls, and bring back loads of flowers and strange plants, and she could tell all about them too. Her knowledge of botany was wonderful, and she could make very clever sketches; she would sit by the hour on some lonely rock, putting picturesque scenery on paper, just for the love of it; for when the pictures were done she would give them away or throw them away without the least compunction.

She had a fine sense of the ludicrous and was all the time seeing funny things, which she described in a manner quite inimitable. She had grown up in New York, before her father's death, in the most select of Knickerbocker circles, but there was not a trace of aristocracy in her ways. She was sociable with the ostler and the office-boy, and agreeable to the neighboring farmers, talking with them with a spirit that quite delighted them. And yet there was nothing free and easy in her ways that encouraged undue familiarity. It was merely natural ease and good nature. She inspired respect in everybody but my mother-in-law, who was puzzled with her conduct, so different from her own ideas of propriety, and yet so free from real vulgarity. Mrs. Pinkerton could by no means approve of her, and yet she could accuse her of no offence which the most rigid could seriously censure.

Miss Van was the life of the company when she was about, telling of her adventures, getting up impromptu amus.e.m.e.nts in the parlor, and planning excursions. She was the only person in the world, probably, who was quite familiar with Mr. Desmond, and she would sit on his knee, pull his whiskers, and call him an "awful glum old fogy," whereat he would laugh and say she had gayety enough for them both. He admired and loved her for the very qualities that he lacked.

All this while I was trying to win the gracious favor of my mother-in-law, but it was up-hill work. She would answer me with severe politeness, and volunteer an occasional remark intended to be pleasant, but the moment I seemed to be gaining headway, a turn at billiards with Marston, for whom she had a great aversion, a thoughtless expression with a flavor of profanity in it, or my cigars, which I now indulged in without restraint, brought back her freezing air of disapproval.

"Oh, dear!" I yawned sometimes, "why can't I go ahead and enjoy myself without minding that very respectable and severe old woman?" But I couldn't do it. I was always feeling the influence of those eyes, and even of her thoughts. I couldn't get away from it. Sunday came, and Mrs.