By the Same Author: CONFESSIONS OF A FRIVOLOUS GIRL. I vol. 16mo. #1.25. A new edition of this famous and fascinating society novel, which has recently caused such a profound sensation in Europe and America, by laying bare the amusing secrets of metropolitan society. T H E LAMBS. A Burlesque Tragedy; A Satire on Wall Street. Illustrated. #1.00. The cover is of flexible paper, richly illuminated in colors, with a fanciful and typical design. In this burlesque tragedy Mr. Grant proves once more his claim to the "peculiar witty touch" for which James T. Fields gave him credit, and justifies J. Boyle O'Reilly's verdict that he is " among the keenest of our social critics." * JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO., Boston. AN AVERAGE MAN BY ROBERT GRANT AUTHOR OF "CONFESSIONS OF A FRIVOLOUS GIRL," "THE LITTLE TIN GODS," ETC. BOSTON JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY 1884 Copyright, BY ROBERT All rights 1883, GRANT. reserved. University Press: JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE. 813 G76a AN AVERAGE MAN. I. I T was a fine moonlight night in early winter. The vicinity of Madison Square was a blaze of light. The theatres were just over, and a stream of people was pouring along the pavements. Horsecars, packed to overflowing, jingled by. Democratic omnibuses thundered over the road-bed, side by side with smartly equipped coupes aglow with lanterns. The huge plate-glass windows of the restaurants flashed a dazzling welcome. All was glitter and roar and rush and hurry. The universal movement was of a race where each one fears to be left behind. It is here that the well-known avenues of fashion and trade intersect like the blades of a vast pair of shears, and focus the rumble, bustle, and glare of the metropolis. Among the crowd that on this particular night peopled this famous New York thoroughfare, where Virtue and Vice touched each other's cheek,— where Plenty delights to flaunt, and Want to sun itself,—were two young men whom a less hurried I 2 AN AVERAGE MAN. gait distinguished from the average passer. They had been to the play, and the larger of the two — a compact, powerfully built fellow, whose hands were deep in the pockets of his ulster — softly hummed, between the puffs at his cigarette, an air from the reigning burlesque of the day. They entered Delmonico's, and, crossing the floor of the restaurant, established themselves at one of the tables. "Bring a chicken salad, Alphonse, and a quart of that dry Monopole," said he of the ulster, whose name was Woodbury Stoughton, to the sinuous waiter at his shoulder. " I drink Monopole entirely now," he added sententiously, turning to his friend ; and his glance began to wander in note of the occupants of the apartment, which was gay with patrons. Now that one saw him distinctly, he was a handsome young man, with a full round face, void of much color, large brown eyes fringed by dark lashes, and a thick and somewhat blunt nose. Save for a crinkling mustache that, without shading the curves of his firm, humorous mouth, stood out beyond his cheeks, he was smoothly shaven ; but his complexion about the lower jaw had the bluish tinge peculiar to those whose beard is dark. Both he and his vis-a-vis, Arthur Remington, were in the neighborhood of twenty-five. The latter lacked the robust beauty of his friend. His was a more delicate mould, — a slim figure, somewhat above the average height, and a spare cast of countenance, with freshcolored, prominent features. He had a thoughtful, AN AVERAGE MAN. 3 intelligent expression, and eyes that were earnest and nervous. He looked a little tired, and, while waiting for the supper, ate bread and butter with a mechanical eagerness. " I notice," continued Stoughton, drumming with his fingers carelessly on the table-cloth, "the bride, Mrs. Tom Fielding, is back again. She looks lovely as ever; I don't see that her damask cheek shows any traces of the traditional worm." " She was Miss Ethel Linton, was n't she ?" asked Remington, turning slightly in the direction indicated. The lady in question was one of a merry party at the other side of the room. " Yes. The story is, you know, she was in love with Willis Blake, but her stern parent lit down on her. Willis had n't a dollar to write after his name ; and Tom Fielding stood all ready at the castle gate, so to speak, a-combing his milk-white steed. They say she and old man Linton had some pretty lively times together ; but in the end Tom carried off the daughter." " I 've heard something of that sort before. Poor girl! I pity her." •" Well, I don't know. It is n't such a bad thing, now, to marry a million. Tom is n't overburdened with intellect, to be sure ; but I guess he's a decent sort of fellow, and will know enough to let her have her head. There's no use looking a gift horse in the mouth merely because he has no brains. A h ! here comes the salad. " By the way," said Stoughton, presently, " talking 4 AN AVERAGE MAN. of the other sex, I met that little Cambridge girl you used to be so sweet on in the street yesterday." " W h a t ! Maud Bolles ? " " Yes, Maud Bolles — as if you did n't know well enough ! She 's married, she tells me, and to one of those scientific duffers. She was quite vivacious for her, and informed me that her husband was engaged at present in weighing thirty guinea-pigs before and after meals, with a view to ' physiological induction/ Well, here 's luck ! " and Stoughton emptied his champagne glass. Remington laughed. " You always were hard on those Cambridge girls, Wood. I suppose they were rather provincial as a lot, but somehow or other I used to like them. They seemed to appeal to the best side of me, and had the effect of a sort of moral tonic. I dare say it would have been a firstrate thing for me if I 'd married Maud Bolles.,, " Pshaw, my dear fellow ! Compare her, for instance, with the girls one meets in New York. She can't hold a candle to them for genuine attraction. Spiritual graces are all very well; but — dash it, A r t h u r — t h e body counts for something. She had a pretty face, that was all." " Oh, yes! You 're right enough, I dare say. I t ' s strange how things happen in this world. I was pretty well cut up because she would not accept me Class-Day evening." Remington leaned his head on his hand thoughtfully. " Perhaps now I 'm glad she did n ' t ; and yet my reasons somehow don't do me proud, as Tom Walker used to say." AN AVERAGE MAN. 5 "Well, it'll be all the same a hundred years hence, my dear fellow. Some more salad ?" "No, I believe not, thank you. I t ' s curious, is n't it," he continued, " how a fellow grows more worldly in spite of himself ? New York knocks the romance out of one very fast. I should like to be able to look at things from the same ideal point of view I used to, a few years ago. I suppose I 'm wjser in some ways to-day; but I ' m a cold, calculating creature compared to what I was then. This city life does n't leave one much time for theorizing. What a whirl it i s ! " he added, reflectively, glancing about him; "and it seems to increase every day." Stoughton scowled, as if irritated by this reminder of current existence, and buried his face in his glass. He set it down with emphasis. " I t ' s all a race for wealth here. A man amounts to nothing in New York unless he has money." He poured out some more champagne gloomily. " Our people have no idea of enjoyment. They don't understand the meaning of the word. Our ancestors — the progenitors of those prim maidens you were admiring just now — went on the principle that everything except money-getting was wrong, and here you have the result. American civilization is based on the theory that life is a sort of 'twenty-minutes-for-dinner' at a way-station, and consequently every one keeps in such a state of nervousness, lest the train may start without him, that a comfortable square meal is out of the question. 6 AN AVERAGE MAN. If a fellow happened to dawdle over a dish and smack his lips a little, he was sure to hear some one whisper, ' It '11 be a warm day for that shrimp before long.' Our fathers were taught from the cradle that the man who lingers in this world over the peaches and cream is bound to get left." Remington laughed. " A t least, the present generation is not under the influence of any such delusion." " Exactly, my dear fellow ; but it does n't know how to enjoy. T h a t ' s the point. Beauty and repose are sealed doors to our race." And Stoughton proceeded further to illustrate his argument with the somewhat disdainful air common to him when roused. He admitted, he said, that it had dawned even upon our people that, after all, happiness is legitimate in this human sphere. The trouble was, nobody understood how to set about obtaining it. Our organisms had become so habituated, in former generations, to judging everything by so-called standards of man's invention, which he had had the presumption to dub divine, they had become starved and contracted. Our sense of the beautiful, the artistic, the exquisite in life was false and illiterate. We had evolved as national traits a cold, lofty moral standard, not lived up to, and an exceeding commercial cleverness. We had made money, and how were we spending it ? In tasteless extravagance and ostentation." Remington was silent a moment. " Y e s ; and yet," said he, " underneath it all there lies some- AN AVERAGE MAN. 7 thing better. I believe that, like our fathers, we too are not content with the peaches and cream. We are at heart an earnest people. ,, " There spoke the spirit of some Puritan ancestor. My dear fellow, life is meant to be enjoyed. Why not get all the pleasure one can out of it, while it lasts ?" And Stoughton sat back in his chair vehemently. His tone betrayed the irritation of one conscious of somewhat sharing at heart, against his will, his opponent's sentiments. It happened at this moment that a party of three or four young men entered the restaurant, and passed close to the table where Remington and Stoughton were sitting. One of these was a thickset and rather coarse-looking fellow, who swaggered a little as he walked, with a bullet head and a dogged sort of expression about the mouth that suggested a bull-terrier. The points of his dress were exaggerated and somewhat careless. H e darted around him a pair of keen, dark eyes, as if to take in at a breath the occupants of the place. Catching sight of Stoughton, he nodded goodhumoredly, and, bending over, whispered across the back of his hand, in passing: " I bought that of yours at seventy-five. It closed six bid, and none offered." " Hold on a minute, Finchley," said Stoughton, reaching out to detain the new-comer. " Is it going higher ? How do things look ? " The broker placed his hand on the other's shoulder, and replied in a confidential tone : " l a m a 8 AN AVERAGE MAN. bull myself upon the situation. We may have temporary reactions, but I look for higher prices. Mr. Gould's brokers," he added, with an increasing earnestness of whisper calculated to convey the impression that his words were not intended for the public, " have been large buyers to-day. The earnings of the roads continue to be enormous. Take your purchase, for instance ; the possibilities of that stock are something tremendous. Its landgrant alone is an empire in itself, — an empire in itself." H e dwelt upon the last expression with an air of satisfaction. In the very ugliness of his smile there was something dangerously winning. " Who 's that ? " inquired Remington, as the broker rejoined his friends. " That ?" said Stoughton absently, as if lost in calculation. " Oh," he continued, " don't you know Finchley ? H e 's in J. C. Withington & Company. He used to be a clerk in their concern, but proved so serviceable they took him into partnership. I guess he makes his fifteen thousand a year fast enough." " He is n't very much to look at." "No, h e ' s a genuine cad ; but he's smart. That's the sort of man, Arthur," he added presently, " to get on in New York. H e is n't troubled by any of the subtle considerations that trouble you and me. H e ' d call that kind of thing filigree work. H e knows what he wants to do, and has it all cut out for him. I t ' s his ambition in life to make a million, and he will before he's forty, if his luck does n't AN AVERAGE MAN. 9 go back on him. Any theory of living not bottomed on the Almighty Dollar would probably strike him as 'hole-in-the-sky.' I tell you what, old man, we're too well educated, we've got too many finespun ideas, to succeed in this place." Stoughton spoke a little bitterly. He paused, and, chancing to look up, a strange expression came over him. " Shylock has a daughter," he murmured, and nodded toward the doorway. Remington turned his head in the direction indicated; and his glance fell upon a young girl standing on the threshold, as if in search of some one in the restaurant. She was wrapped in a white opera-cloak. The light threw her figure, which was sufficiently tall, into perfect relief. Remington felt that he had rarely, if ever, seen such a beautiful being. Her person had exchanged the more fragile grace of extreme maidenhood for a mature but equally symmetrical luxuriance of form. Her large blue eyes and round cheeks — tinged with the delicate olive of the brunette, yet suffused with color, and soft with the bloom peculiar to youth — were crowned with a superabundance of fluffy golden hair, that strayed far down upon her forehead in rebellious tangles. Her mouth was slightly prominent, — her lips full, unwavering, and so brightly red as to display to advantage the whiteness of her small, regular, and almost cruelly incisive teeth. The exuberance of the smile by which she now indicated her discovery of the object of her scrutiny betrayed a keen enjoyment of IO AN AVERAGE MAN. life, and^a plentiful fund of vitality. There was something vigorous, fearless, almost bold, still not unrefined, in her expression. One realized the presence of a splendid animal. You felt, in regard to her possibilities, as one feels in gazing on a massive block of shining marble before the sculptor's hand has fashioned it. She was accompanied by a slim youth of albino type and lackadaisical demeanor. Remington had started at the apparition. " Who is she, Wood ?" and his face wore a half-puzzled, half-amused look. " Miss Idlewild, daughter of Peter Idlewild, the banker and railway magnate. She's a stunner, is n't she ? Nothing of the pocket Venus about h e r ; it's the genuine article." Remington seemed lost in thought. "Yes, it must be the same," he muttered to himself. " But they 're not Jews, surely ?" he suddenly asked of his friend, recalling the other's previous remark. " My language was merely metaphorical. I have no cause, my dear fellow, to doubt her Aryan descent," said Stoughton, with a laugh. " But whence all this mysterious cogitation ? Do you know her?" " It was on a steamboat, four summers ago. I was going to Bar Harbor. It was the end of my Junior year, and I was feeling terribly blue, I remember, over a condition in chemistry," said Remington, musingly. " There happened to be very few people on board, and I found myself sitting next to AN AVERAGE MAN. II this girl, near the bow. She was n't as pretty as she is now, and was more slender-looking; but she 'd have passed in a crowd even then. Somehow or other we got into conversation. I think it was a shoal of porpoises that brought us together. She inquired of a deck-hand if they were whales, and — " " A n d you were on deck with an answer," laughed Stoughton. " I 've been there myself." " Exactly. She asked me what time it was, which broke the ice completely. I discovered she was travelling entirely alone, and was on the way to visit some relatives in Maine. She seemed inclined to be communicative, and told me that her name was Isabel Idlewild, that her mother was dead, and her father in business in New York. ' A n d when I 'm eighteen,' she said, ' I 'm going to live there, and keep house for him. That '11 be in two years. I 'm only sixteen now. Don't you think I look older than that ?' I remember it all distinctly, as if it had been yesterday. There was a moon, and after supper we went and sat aft of the paddle-box, where we could see the glitter on our wake. She produced, from a little reticule she carried, some oranges and a paper of chocolates, which she insisted on my sharing. ' Oh !' she exclaimed, 'is n't it lovely ?' " " What, the confectionery ?" " No, you unsentimental cynic. She had reference to the moon and the general surroundings. ' I suppose/ said she, with a little sidelong glance I 12 AN AVERAGE MAN. have never forgotten, ' it's perfectly dreadful of me to be talking to you, and telling you all these things. Do you know, the last words my folks said to me before I left home were that I must n't talk to any one. But I do like company; don't you, Mr. — what did you say your name was ? ' " " N u m , n u m ! " articulated Stoughton, banteringly. " ' I did n't say/ said I, with a laugh. ' Oh,' said she, ' how unkind! but you will write it in my album, I know. I always make my travelling friends write their names in my album ;' and therewith she ferreted out of the aforesaid reticule a small autograph-book." " Did you write it ?" "Yes. I thought at first of writing a fictitious name; but, as I never expected to see her again, I did n't care much. We sat out until about ten o'clock," continued Remington, "and then she said it was time for her to go to bed. I tried to make her stay up longer, but she would n't. I walked with her to the head of the staircase. She was to land at an early hour in the morning. 'You will write to m e ? ' she said, putting out her hand. ' Of course,' replied I, a little staggered withal. ' Address Maud Vandyke, care of the postmaster,' she continued; ' my folks might n't like it if they knew I was corresponding. Good-night!' and I have never seen her since until to-day. She landed before I was up." " And you never wrote to her ?" AN AVERAGE MAN. 13 " No. I don't know why exactly, but I never did. I wonder if she 'd remember me. I 've half a mind to speak to her," said Remington, turning slightly so as to command a glimpse of the young beauty, who had joined some friends at a distant table. " You say her father is a banker ? " "Yes. Peter Idlewild & Company. T h a t ' s he at the table with her. The blonde youth is her brother. The old man is one of your self-made chaps, who came to New York as a boy, without a dollar in his pocket, and has laid up a colossal fortune. Now he's trying to get into society on the strength of his money," said Stoughton. " I '11 introduce you, if you like." " What! do you know her ? " " A little," replied Stoughton, with a grin. " I met her at Newport last summer, once or twice. They had the Spencer Colgate cottage. They 're rich, you know, and were invited about more or less. She's a debutante. The second wife, who is quite presentable, is anxious to cut a dash ' in the swim.' That's their new house on Fifth Avenue, near Sixty-second Street, — the one that looks big enough for a palace. I 'm invited to a blowout there next week. Come on ; I '11 introduce you." Remington offering no objection, the other presently led the way across to where the Idlewilds were sitting. The party included the second Mrs. Idlewild, a beautifully dressed but languid-looking woman, considerably her husband's junior. 14 AN AVERAGE MAN. "Why, Mr. Stoughton, how do you do? We have n't met for ever so long," exclaimed the girl with a frank graciousness, putting out her hand. " I 'm real glad to see you again." Her face wore an exuberance of expression unusual with those whom familiarity with the world has taught to temper the display of their emotions. "Permit me, Miss Idlewild, to present my friend, Mr. Remington." Stoughton spoke with the air of subtle gallantry, of self-mortification, that charms a woman. As Remington's eyes encountered those of the young beauty, she blushed. " I think we have met before, Miss Idlewild," he said. " I remember perfectly." She looked him now full in the face with fearless, wide-open eyes, her head coquettishly poised on one side. Stoughton had turned to speak with her parents. " But you never wrote ;" and a mischievous smile parted her red lips, between which her small white teeth shone like pearls. " I was afraid you would n't answer me. But is there no way in which I can condone my offence ? " "Oh," she cried, " I ' l l forgive you if you come and see me, Mr. Remington. And where have you been all these years ? Let me see ! Why, it's four since we met, — four years last summer. Father sent for me that autumn, and I 've lived here ever since. Father's married again. T h a t ' s mother with him. Do you think I 've changed much, Mr. Remington?" "AN AVERAGE MAN. 15 " I think you 've become very beautiful," whispered the young man. " Really ?" She darted a pleased little glance at him, then dropped her eyes confusedly. " Oh, but you must n't say things like that. I 'm grown up now, and am going to be dreadfully proper," she said, drawing herself up with mock dignity. " You know I 'm just ' o u t ' now, and — oh, Mr. Remington, I want you to come to my party. I t ' s next week, and I '11 get mother to send you an invitation." She paused a moment while Remington bowed his acknowledgments. " It is funny, is n't it, we should meet again after so long ?" she said. " What a nice time we had that evening! Do you remember how lovely it was on deck, — and the chocolates, and the album, and all ? I suppose it was dreadfully improper of me, was n't it ? Well, I shall make up for it by being a perfect icicle. Do tell me, Mr. Remington, is Mr. Stoughton a great friend of yours ?" Remington answered that they had always been intimate. " We were classmates in college." " Really ? Oh, then he must be, of course. He 's very handsome, is lit he ? But I 'm afraid of him," she added, with a little laugh. " I always feel as if he did n't quite approve of me." As she glanced in the direction of Stoughton, who was still conversing with her parents, Remington detected, as he thought, a trace of something half defiant, as it were, in her eyes. " But I want to introduce you to father, Mr. Remington." i6 AN AVERAGE MAN. Peter Idlewild was a well-preserved man about sixty years old, of sturdy frame. His face was one which would at once command the attention. A large, beak-like nose; a deep-red complexion ; a solid jaw; a firm mouth, the expression of which was shaded but not concealed by a stubby, bristling, iron-gray mustache, a trifle lighter than his still abundant hair; and a pair of glittering, deep-set eyes, of cold, metallic light, guarded by bushy eyebrows of that same iron-gray,— such were its distinguishing features ; and, as an offset to these sterner lineaments, a smile — his daughter's smile intensified — suggesting confidences and a deep interest in your welfare, and breathing that peculiar power which word-painters of our day style magnetism. One saw at a glance that it was from him that the daughter had inherited her superb physique and vigor. " Father, this is Mr. Remington. Mr. Remington and I are old friends;" and she shot a demure smile at the young man. " How do you do, sir ? I am very happy to make your acquaintance, sir,'' said Mr. Idlewild, in a deep bass voice, — "very happy to make your acquaintance." He introduced Remington to his wife, and insisted upon ordering more champagne. His voice and gestures were those of one who courts notoriety. It almost seemed that, as if aware good breeding lies beyond the compass of even an iron will or cunning fancy, he enjoyed a revenge in AN AVERAGE MAN. 17 flaunting his wealth in the face of the community. In his presence, however, one felt unconsciously a dwarfing of self, if no effort were made to withstand its influence, — realized the fascination that flows from a superior, mastering vitality. After the first outburst of hospitality, he sat back in his chair sipping his wine with an important and sphinx-like gravity, while Remington talked to his wife. "Mr. Stoughton tells me you were classmates at Harvard, Mr. Remington. We saw Mr. Stoughton quite frequently last summer at Newport. I suppose you know Newport very well ?" said Mrs. Icllewild, in her listless way. " I shall be glad to see you at our house on Wednesday of next week. My daughter expects a few of her friends." A few minutes later Mrs. Idlewild rose to depart. There was some little delay about the carriage, and the young men stood chatting with Miss Isabel in the vestibule. While thus engaged, the gay party previously alluded to passed out, with velvet step, and wafting a faint odor as of violets. A tall, lithe young woman of graceful bearing turned her face, which peeped forth from the folds of the drapery wound about her head, back over her shoulder, and nodded in a friendly manner to Woodbury Stoughton. He raised his hat, and flew to her side. "Permit me to see you to your carriage, Mrs. Fielding." The aristocratic poise of her head, the springy piquancy of her motions, suggested a thorough2 18 AN AVERAGE MAN. bred race-horse. Her face expressed excessive refinement and some physical delicacy. It was pretty, but pale and a trifle pinched. Its features were small, save a long, thin, pointed nose. The first bloom of youth was gone. Her beauty was that of a Marshal Niel rose, of which just the edges of the leaves have begun to curl and faintly to discolor. " That's the bride, Mrs. Tom Fielding, ,, whispered Miss Idlewild to Remington. " I saw her at Newport, when she was Miss Linton. She's lovely, is n't she ? " " Yes. That sleepy-looking man with the brown beard is her husband. What a heavenly night! It reminds me of four years ago." She was tripping to the carriage now on the arm of the young man. " Was n't it lovely ! Ah, but you never wrote !" she murmured banteringly, and her clear, unconventional laugh fell upon the night air. Stoughton, who had seen Mrs. Fielding into her coupe, came hurrying forward to offer his assistance, and a few merry words passed between the party. "Good-night, gentlemen, good-night," said the deep bass of Mr. Idlewild. The young men lifted their hats, and the powerful, prancing horses bore away their lovely burden. II. r I ^HE young men lit their cigarettes, and saun-*• tered slowly along the pavement. The night was cool and tranquil. The moon had set, but the heavens were.brilliant with the frosty glitter which the stars emit in the clear atmosphere of winter. Much of the roar and bustle of the neighborhood had subsided ; yet the reverberations of Broadway, dulled by distance, still fell upon the ear like the ceaseless rush of a river heard by one who wakes at night amid the deathly stillness of the woods. The ferrules of their canes struck the sidewalk with the sharp, distinct ring that betokens quiet surroundings. Their homes lay at some little distance up-town, and they walked and smoked, lost in their own reflections. How susceptible we mortals are to the influences of the natural forces! Our nervous systems respond to the waves of light and sound, to shadow and to lustre, to silence and to turmoil, even as the chords of a piano to pressure upon the keys. Who shall escape his moods ? We vary from hour to hour. A kiss, a crowd, a peaceful night, an apple-blossom, the pale cold face of one 20 AN AVERAGE MAN. beloved, — what a widely opposite effect each one of these has upon the organism ! And what, indeed, is human nature but a series of varied and recurring emotions, strung like pearls upon the thread of individual existence, which is bounded by mystery at either end ? Arthur Remington and Woodbury Stoughton had alike reached one of those halting-places in the struggle for existence, where even the most impetuous and least self-questioning natures have the desire and opportunity to pause and think. The precious boon of pondering on what has been and is to be, out of the sweep of the current, was theirs for a moment. This had been more literally true of their condition three months previous, at which time they had returned to New York to settle down to the serious business of life, as it is called. Tfye eight preceding years had been passed away from their native city. They both had been graduated at Harvard, and subsequently had studied law and spent a year in travelling abroad. Now they had come back to earn their living, after having enjoyed the best advantages our civilization affords in the way of education. The social position of both was likewise of the best. They belonged to families that had for several generations been people of consideration in society. But although this was the case, each had his way to make in the world. Beyond some five thousand dollars apiece, they had nothing of their own. Their fathers, as is generally the case in America, AN AVERAGE MAN. 21 had made every effort to give them an excellent education, and now expected them to take care of themselves as soon as possible. The fathers were neither of them men of large fortune, and had need of all their income to provide for the expenses of a handsome establishment and growing family. The young men still lived at home. They had just been admitted to the bar, and had set up law offices of their own. Woodbury Stoughton habitually produced the effect of an indifferent and rather lazy person, with a dash of the cynic. His conversation and bearing were apt to suggest one to whom enthusiasm or serious endeavor was at least distasteful, if not a theme for satire. It had been seemingly his desire while in college to figure as a sceptic of all that was intangible and otherwise than mundane. Watching him stroll along the streets of Cambridge, with an air both fastidious and reserved, a bull-pup at his heels, his fellows tacitly pigeon-holed him as an embryo Chesterfield. For, despite his apathetic ways, there were curious whispers in circulation concerning him. His intimates declared that he was immensely clever. It was said he had read everything. Besides, he was a handsome fellow, of commanding presence, and even those who resented his exclusive demeanor could not deny his ability to converse fluently and with pungency. Several years of schooling abroad as a child had given him a familiarity with foreign languages that served as an additional means of prestige. It came, in short, 22 AN AVERAGE MAN. to be currently stated that, if Woodbury Stoughton only chose to work, he could have any place on the rank-list, — a measure of praise much more flattering in the eyes of his classmates than actual success would have been. He apparently, however, studied but little the college requirements, preferring — as those who voiced his utterances said — to read in self-chosen directions. He professed to be especially enamored of literature which presented most vividly the philosophy of an epigrammatic pessimism. Aphorisms from Voltaire, La 'Rochefoucauld, and others of that class, were constantly on his lips. The young ladies of the university town, who — with the example of the Trojan Helen constantly in mind, so to speak—were invariably suspicious of Parisian manners, did not approve of Mr. Stoughton. To begin with, he seemed to prefer the parties in the adjacent Boston to their own " sociables," which was an excellent reason for suspecting him of an inclination toward worldliness ; and when it was whispered about that he was acquainted with several actresses, the Puritan maidens took refuge in the dreadful anathema that there " was nothing in him.'' They even took Arthur Remington, who was a favorite in Cambridge social circles, to task for his intimacy with the handsome Lothario. Miss Bolles, who was rightly supposed to possess great influence with the former, was deputed to inquire what there was to recommend Mr. Stoughton. AN AVERAGE MAN. 23 " Is n't he dreadfully fast ? " asked the suburban beauty, with a severe look in her serious face. " Not in the least. Why, how could you have got such an idea ? " answered Remington. " H e ' s fond of having a good time, like the rest of us, but t h a t ' s all. N o ; Woodbury Stoughton is one of the ablest men in the class." " Did n't he stand very low on the rank-list last year?" " T h a t ' s no test. H e could have had any rank if he had chosen to study." Miss Bolles, far from convinced, shook her head. To have the opportunity of improving one's self and not to do so, seemed to her earnest spirit quite incomprehensible. How many young men there were through the country struggling to obtain the means for a college education, and here was a man — and with natural ability, too — throwing away his advantages ! It was simply dreadful, and Mr. Remington was to blame in seeking to defend him. Nevertheless, the same young ladies regarded this black sheep with a certain awe that was not perhaps void of secret admiration. They could not help admitting that he was handsome. When they met him in the streets they bowed with frigidity, to be sure ; but there was an excitement about the encounter for which they could not exactly account, and which the more analytical were conscious was not consistent with the disapproval they harbored. As time went on, indeed, a Miss 24 AN AVERAGE MAN. Margaret Lamb, one of the sweetest and most simple-minded of the set, allowed herself to become intimate with Stoughton, who had made an exception in her favor in his criticism of Cambridge manners. She presently gave it to be known that she had no idea there was so much in Mr. Stoughton, and that he was really very much in earnest, and so clever. Some of her companions, as a consequence, modified a little their views in his regard ; but the majority preferred to think that Margaret had fallen a victim to her own vanity. Remington, on the other hand, had been looked upon in his college days as a tolerably easy-going fellow, with amiable, unpretentious manners. There was a nervous energy about him always seeking vent, which had made him conspicuous in various fields of college enterprise. His exertions in the line of athletics, theatricals, and the like, were a contrast to the elegant inactivity of Stoughton, who used to smile withal at the other's restlessness. He enjoyed life with a keenness that was visible in his expression. In the way of studies he, too, had been negligent, but from a buoyant heedlessness rather than premeditation. It was always his intention to work, and his penitence for his idleness was as sincere as it was apt to prove transitory. But, though impetuous and volatile, there had ever been a current of earnest seriousness beneath the bubbling surface of his days. There were those among his classmates who styled him visionary, and instanced in support thereof his rhapsodizing talk at times, AN AVERAGE MAN. 25 and the tendency he showed for the discussion of serious and sentimental problems with his girl intimates. His devotion to Miss Bolles was a wellknown circumstance, and some of his associates, be it said to their shame, looked upon the pale, slim professor's daughter, whose face reflected the fervor of her earnest views of life, in the light of an infliction. In fact, before the close of his undergraduate course, the influences of sobering reflection had begun to manifest themselves in his conduct, and he became much more assiduous at his studies. Commencement-Day found him above the middle of his class on the rank-list; but, to the surprise of almost everybody, Woodbury Stoughton's percentage for the Senior year was but two or three removed from the highest. Remington was one of the few to whom Stoughton's sudden prowess was no revelation. He was quite aware of the fire that burned beneath his friend's calm and indifferent exterior, — a fire which Stoughton had ever shrunk from acknowledging, but which was just as real as the restless energy which showed itself in the other's very eyes. Their intimacy had been a singular one. The dissimilarity of their traits had seemingly attracted them toward each other. The calm, passive force of Stoughton, his deliberate ways, suggestive of reserve power, and his casuistic cleverness had alike appealed to his more plastic companion ; and the former had in turn silently watched, with a curious interest, the development of Remington's nervous nature. They 26 AN AVERAGE MAN. were known as great cronies ; but their bond of sympathy largely consisted in antagonism to each other's ideas. Stoughton had not been able to disguise from his friend the secret ambition within him ; but even in confidential moments his attitude was apologetic, as if he considered all enthusiasm a weakness. While unable to conceal his own susceptibility to the aspirations common to the sober moments of youth, he inveighed against the same as stumbling-blocks in the path of happiness. Many were the rambles they used to take together on Sunday afternoons, when their classmates who lived in Boston had gone home. They were wont to discuss all sorts of questions, and with great heat, too ; for Stoughton was a bitter opponent of authority, and resented the old-time arguments upon which his comrade founded his conclusions. And Remington, while he deplored the upsetting of the opinions he fancied established forever, could not help admitting that the other was very clever, and that, perhaps, what he said regarding the automatism of human beings might have some truth in it. For Woodbury Stoughton professed great admiration for the doctrines of the materialists, and delighted to style himself a victim of the idiosyncrasies of his ancestors. He used to quote the Frenchman's remark that " to reform a man you must begin with his grandmother," and claimed the laws of heredity to be the arbiters of fate. Opinions ? Beliefs ? Who dared claim (so he argued) that any one set of opinions or beliefs AN AVERAGE MAN. 27 bore the stamp of a supernatural approval ? Who was prepared to assert that what men symbolized as divine commands was aught but accumulated human experience of what had been best for the race, — handed down through the centuries from father to son, until it had crystallized as an instinct of the organism and been accredited to a God ? Best, — and what was best ? The eternal strife went on, and on, and on. Still, the stronger survived and the weaker perished. To earn their bread, a pitiful mass of beings toiled, day in, day out, in reeking factories and workshops, and in the bowels of the earth, that their more prosperous brethren might live in luxury. Here, too, the teachings of one were stamped with the disapproval of his neighbor. What some called right there were others to stigmatize as wrong. The laws of human device varied with succeeding generations, and those of nature ever found a new interpretation. Still, a portion claimed as of divine revelation doctrines to which the rest refused their faith, and the creeds of the world were as diverse as its peoples. And so from age to age man labored his allotted time, died, and was gathered to his fathers ; and what came after, no one, not even the wisest, knew. Those delightful four years of undergraduate life came to an end at last. Class-Day was at hand, and after that they were both to enter the law school. Remington was chosen one of the marshals of his class, an office which is commonly the 28 AN AVERAGE MAN. reward of popularity ; and his spirits were of the best as he stood under the flower-belted memorial elm, conducting what is familiarly known to Harvard men as " the exercises at the tree." During these rites, which are witnessed annually by enthusiastic audiences of maidens in muslin and their chaperons, ranged on benches around two sides of a quadrangle, or looking down from the dormitory window-seats overhead, the graduating class, having exchanged the spick-and-span apparel of the morning for highly nondescript garments, commit every kind of student eccentricity. They cheer the favorite professors, the victorious " crews " and " nines," and even extend their patronage to the college " goodies," which is the still more aged title of the venerable dames who have the charge of rooms. When at last subjects for applause are no longer to be found, the heroes of the occasion, hand clasped in hand, begin to revolve about the ancient tree, which wears a vast band of choice flowers around its trunk, far removed from the grasp of the tallest of the revellers. The younger classes also rise from the turf upon which they have been lounging, and form three other rings, which begin to revolve with alternate motion. The Sophomores follow the movement of the graduating class, but the Juniors and Freshmen turn from right to left. The class song is sung, and after it " Fair Harvard," the darling air of the university; and then, as the tripping feet speed faster, the voices take up the burden of " Auld Lang Syne," and lift it to the stars. The AN AVERAGE MAN. 29 pace grows frantic now ; the arms swing with wild, ecstatic energy; and at a given signal the two hundred youths, who are supposed to be men from this day forth, rush in an indiscriminate mass toward the elm to tear the flowers from their resting-place. Regardless of appearances, or even of justice, they swarm up the mammoth trunk on the backs of each other. The giant lifts the nimble stripling upon his shoulders until his fingers touch the posies, and robs him to the last bud as he hauls him down. It is sauve qui pent with a vengeance. The weakest go to the wall, or rather to the earth, and the strong man carries off the prize to his Dulcinea. It is a mimic foretaste of the great world into which they will be let loose upon the morrow. So at least had reflected Woodbury Stoughtcn, as he stood a little apart watching the scrimmage with a smile that was half disdainful. He was too lazy, as he would have expressed it, to make so much exertion for the sake of a few roses. There was nobody in especial to whom he wished to present them, and he would get heated for nothing. Theretore he let the others do the climbing, and amused himself with the sight of their vicissitudes. He would have to encounter plenty of rough-andtumble in the struggle of the next few years without beginning now. Holloa! there was Arthur Remington barking up the tree, like a good one. Smithson, the university stroke, had him by the legs, and was lifting him toward the goal. A little farther, — there, he had a handful now, and looked 30 AN AVERAGE MAN. with beaming, mocking eyes triumphantly down at the envious faces below. " This way, that's a good fellow, Remington," u Remember your friends," " Pull him down," and the like, rose from a score of throats, until attention was diverted by the success of another aspirant who had clambered to eminence under cover of the confusion. Just then, Remington, who was casting favors right and left, caught sight of Stoughton looking up at him, and with a simple wave of his arm tossed in his direction a choice bunch of red roses which he had intended to reserve for himself. A dozen hands grasped at them as they floated downward, but Stoughton was not the man to suffer himself to be robbed under his very eyes. He strove valiantly for his property, and succeeded in carrying off the major portion of the blushing blossoms. While he was battling, the patience of the stalwart Smithson apparently gave way, and with it the support of Remington, who came tumbling to the earth, clinching, however, with the tenacity of desperation a few crumpled remains of flowers. The tree was entirely stripped now. In fact, the work of demolition had been vastly shorter than has been its narration, and the crowd, well pleased at the success of the spectacle, already was beginning to scatter in the direction of the " teas." A spur in the side of Remington's native energy had been the desire to obtain from the rose-belt a bouquet de corsage for Miss Bolles, to whom he had promised to show later on in the evening, when AN AVERAGE MAN. 31 the band began to play and the college-green was alive with lanterns, the room that he had occupied during the four years of his student life. It was a sorry-looking bunch that he had carried off, so he reflected, as he presented them to the young lady, with a stammering, half-audible remark, embodying the hope that she would keep them to remember him by. Nor did they look much better, as he scanned them by and by, from a seat beside his study-table, nestling in her waistband. Miss Bolles had possession of the cushioned window-seat, and her slim, girlish profile, surmounted by a jaunty chip hat and large white feather, were outlined as in a frame against the evening air. She held between her thumb and finger the cord of the shade, and gently and pensively swayed the tassel to and fro, while the strains of music and hum of voices floated up from below. He had been too generous at the tree. He ought to have kept the best for her instead of giving them away. He had been in a position to win for her the choicest of all, and yet there was nothing to show for his endeavors but these faded sprigs. What had Woodbury done with his ? he wondered. He had seen Miss Lamb wandering about at Jack Hewson's tea looking quite disconsolate, despite the attendance of a cavalier or two. Very likely Woodbury had found her by this time. What was he doing here himself? Why had he persuaded Miss Bolles to climb the winding, narrow staircase to his nest in the top story of old 32 AN AVERAGE MAN. Holworthy? He had been looking forward for weeks to this interview, and now it had come. Neither of them had spoken for several minutes. She was listening to the music. How pretty she looked, he thought, as he stealthily gazed at her. His heart was beating like a trip-hammer. Ought he to say anything to her ? Would she like it if he did ? Did he want to say anything to her, and what was there to say ? He loved her — yes, he loved h e r ; but somehow he was n't ready to be married yet. What would his family say ? He had his own way to make in the world. He was ready to work, he was eager to work. He would go out on a sheep-farm or do anything to make money, if only he was sure she cared for him. Yes, come what might, he would tell her his secret, — if it was a secret, — and have it over with. He never could be happy without her, he was sure of that. So he had presently broken the silence, which was becoming somewhat awkward, with a sententious little speech that was so suggestive of sentiment as to cause Miss Bolles to draw her wrap about her shoulders with a slight shiver and say she thought it really was time for her to be going. But the young lover would pay no attention to the hint. She should not escape him now. He never might have such an opportunity again. And he rushed to his fate very glibly when once the ice was broken, for he told the sweet descendant of the Puritans he had loved her ever since he had seen AN AVERAGE MAN. 33 her first, that she was the dearest girl in the world, and had so much influence over him that if she would only say she loved him just a little, he would be very, very happy. He called her " Maud," too, and, drawing his chair to the window-seat, tried to take her hand, which she, poor girl, would not let him have. She sat silent and trembling, nor did she say a word until he had finished. Then she told him quietly, and even a little coldly, that what he asked was quite impossible. She had enjoyed their friendship very much, of course; but the idea of anything else had never entered her head. " I am so sorry for you, Mr. Remington, but you must try and get on without me. I am not half so good a girl as you make me out to be," and she smiled faintly at her admirer. " I only wish I were," she added, and she covered her face with her hands as she spoke. Half an hour later, after he had conducted Miss Bolles back to her party and bade her a rather stiff and funereal farewell, Remington took a bee-line for one of the clubs. He felt angry, and, as if it were incumbent upon him to do something desperate in retaliation for his discomfiture, he would get drunk. He remembered that Harry Loring had, according to popular report, gone on a prolonged spree of ten days after being thrown over by a certain Miss Bowdoin, and he could now sympathize acutely with his action. The lights in the yard were dying out rapidly, and most of the guests had gone home. The songs of students who had 3 34 AN AVERAGE MAN. exchanged feminine society for mild bacchanalia were beginning to be audible in the distance, and the greensward was fast assuming the appearance of a deserted battle-field. As Remington was hurried on by the impetuosity of this mood, he was startled at hearing a voice close at hand ask him whither he was going so fast. Turning his head sharply, he found himself face to face with Woodbury Stoughton, who was sitting placidly smoking a pipe on the fence which bordered the sidewalk. The shade of a large tree concealed his figure from the careless passer. " Holloa, Wood," exclaimed Remington, and he came to a halt. " What in the world are you doing here ? " " Reflecting, my dear fellow. Nothing worse, I assure you. I Ve been here most of the evening." H e smoked in silence for a minute. " You see, I was afraid if I went into the yard I might be led into saying something foolish. The last thing my mother said to me before I left home at Christmas was, that I must be careful not to do anything foolish. I Ve been following her advice; t h a t ' s all." Remington nervously switched off the head of an innocent dandelion with his cane. " I Ve been making a fool of myself to-night," he said. " I think very likely," said Stoughton. " Did she accept you ?" he inquired!, presently. " No." " Well, you Ve got off better than I feared. If AN AVERAGE MAN. 35 any one would have guaranteed me the same result, I might have had a pleasant evening; but I did n't dare to risk it." As he spoke, Stoughton looked down half-regretfully at a bunch of withered roses which adorned his lapel. Remington recognized them as the same he had thrown to him from the tree. " I saw Miss Lamb at Jack Hewson's tea," said Remington. " She's a nice girl, — a very nice girl." Stoughton shook his head slowly from side to side, and took another puff. " I 'd told her that already though, so there was no use in my repeating it to her to-night. It was all I meant to tell her." He spoke the last words with a quiet deliberation. Presently he gave a deep sigh, and, rising, knocked the ashes out of his pipe against the fence. " ' To-morrow, to fresh woods and pastures new/ Come on, old fellow. It 's the luckiest thing in the world she refused you ; and you '11 think so, too, before you 're a week older." This prediction did not turn out to be exactly t r u e ; for, despite a consciousness that there was a certain compensation in still being free, and not having to go out to a sheep-farm immediately, Remington felt very gloomy for a number of weeks. Stoughton rallied him upon his despondency, and adduced many excellent reasons why he should be thankful that Miss Bolles had given him the mitten. They passed most of the summer, after graduation, at Newport; and it must be confessed that, when 36 AN AVERAGE MAN. the time came for them to enter the law school, Remington did not experience any special elation at the idea of meeting his would-be sweetheart once more. Indeed, he had come to see that there were many things to be considered in the matter; that is to say, his youth, lack of means, and unsettled prospects in life did not warrant him in contracting an engagement. It was better as it was, perhaps. If he continued to love Miss Bolles three years hence, when he had begun to practise law, he would try his fortune again. Until then he must be content to take his chance ; and it was a little surprising to himself, withal, to observe how calmly he was able to face the prospect of taking his chance. Those next two years at the law school were years of genuine hard study on the part of both Remington and Stoughton. It is very apt to be the case that those who have been easy-going students while undergraduates turn out wonderful workers as soon as they enter the professional schools. They each managed to spend so many hours a day over their law-books that the termination of the course found them thoroughly fagged out, and a year abroad was decreed as the needful tonic in the premises. Miss Bolles must have been a most unsophisticated young person, for Remington left Cambridge this second time with scarcely a pang at parting. Indeed, it is doubtful if there was any formal leave-taking between them. H e had found her manner toward him, on his return from Newport, so cool (which was doubtless caused AN AVERAGE MAN. 37 by a conscientious wish to avoid encouragement) that he soon began to plead the multiplicity of his legal duties as an excuse for not making more frequent visits. He scarcely ever went to the Cambridge sociables, and their opportunities for meeting were very few. Miss Margaret Lamb was in poor health during the greater portion of the two years, and Stoughton used to send her fruit and flowers occasionally. She was said to have played too much tennis at Bar Harbor; but, as her father, Professor George Lamb, happened to have been one of the original holders of Agueville and Tallpeak Railway stock, she was able to have the best medical attendance. " Only think," said Stoughton, the evening after their final law examinations, as he and his friend sat on the steps of Dane Hall, taking a last retrospective survey — " Only think, if I 'd married Margaret Lamb, what a bonanza I should have struck! Somebody was saying yesterday that the professor is worth a cool million.,, " And she's an only daughter," added Remington. Thus had passed the days of their novitiate. A three months' experience of actual life had already begun to color the current of their ideas. Just as buds, which, fashioned through long months of dark, silent growth, burst into light and prominence beneath a spring day's varying sun and shower, impulses and impressions hitherto unknown to them were welling up under contact with the workaday world. They were passing through 38 AN AVERAGE MAN. the disillusionizing process common to all carefully educated young men. The realities of life were very different from what they had pictured them at the university. They had come to New York with the knowledge of their superiority to the mass of mankind, and confident of recognition. They were anxious to shine in their calling, to make money, to become prominent in the community; and though indefinite as to the precise methods, they had never doubted their ability to do so. But the result thus far had been quite removed from their expectation. They had found their theories and refinements of little apparent avail for the wear and tear of down-town life. The discovery had been more or less mortifying. Stoughton, reserved, dignified, almost phlegmatic in his apparent indifference, yet eager at heart; Remington, nervous, impetuous, scarcely less clever, — they alike felt a certain chagrin at the realization of their (so to speak) helplessness among their fellows. The very qualities that distinguished them from the multitude seemed to unfit them for competition, to bar them from success. Upon the mind of each the effect had been peculiar. To Remington, the most serious shock had been a keener appreciation of the force of materialism, a rude revolutionizing of his emotional side; but the feeling aroused in Stoughton was distinctly one of thwarted ambition and wounded vanity. Accustomed hitherto, almost without ex- AN AVERAGE MAN. 39 ertion, to be easily first, he had looked forward — vaguely, perhaps, yet confidently — to a conspicuous recognition. He had supposed the accomplished ability of which he knew himself to be possessed would be a free pass to advancement; instead of which he saw himself outstripped by men of Finchley's stripe,—men whom he sneered at, but whom he now secretly envied. Such reflections were a part of their thoughts this evening, as they pursued their way in company up Fifth Avenue. Stoughton's home was the nearer, and they stood for a moment chatting at the corner where it was necessary for him to branch off. To-morrow was Sunday. For the coming week they found themselves deep in engagements. " There's no rest for the weary in this life," said Remington, with a sigh. " However, we can sleep late to-morrow ; that's one comfort. By Jove, i t ' s a fine n i g h t ! " Carelessly swinging his cane, he gazed up at the clear heavens. " Right you are," answered Stoughton, absently. " I t ' s a strange world, Arthur," he continued, suddenly pulling himself together. " Well, as the bard says, 'If you can't get in by the golden gate, Climb over the garden wall.' Good-night!" " Good-night!" And the young men parted. III. T T was usual with Remington and Stoughton to •*• remain down-town until late in the afternoon, returning just in time to get ready for dinner. They were apt to walk the distance, so as to obtain a little fresh air and exercise. Sometimes they took the " Elevated," and tried to make a few calls at the afternoon tea-hour. The gay season had begun, and invitations to all sorts of entertainments were pouring in upon them. Their social position gave them the entree to the most agreeable houses in town. One afternoon, shortly after the episode at Delmonico's, Stoughton carried his friend to call on Mrs. Fielding. She lived on Fifth Avenue in the vicinity of Sixtieth Street. The irreproachable manservant who answered the bell had reached a period of life equally removed from the rawness of youth and the seediness of age. With a demeanor subdued, and not too unctuous to be consistent with a proper self-respect, he aided them to take off their overcoats in a large hall, exquisitely furnished in the spirit of the modern school of high art. " What name shall I say, sir ?" " Mr. Remington, please." AN AVERAGE MAN. 41 " Thank you, sir." The servant drew aside the portiere which hung across the doorway of the adjoining room : " Mr. Woodbury Stoughton — Mr. Remington." Remington found himself in a spacious parlor, dim with faint daylight, strained through colored shades, and the afterglow of a wood fire. A maze of low tables, footstools, and other tasteful-looking knick-knacks separated the young men from their hostess, whose sofa was beside the distant hearth. She laid aside the volume which lay open on her lap and rose to greet them with a cordial smile. She was dressed simply, in a loose-fitting costume of some cashmere material of a neutral, greenish-brown tint. A single pale pink rose, with a dash of deeper color at the tips of its leaves, lay on her bosom. Remington noticed the same excessively refined delicacy of feature that had struck him the evening he had seen her at Delmonico's; but, in this dimmer light, no suggestion of meagreness marred the fascination of her pretty face. The apartment was in harmony with its mistress, a soothing pleasure to the eye that appreciates true elegance and grace. That perfection of effect, of which the heightening charm is an apparent absence of art, was there completely realized. "You see, Mrs. Fielding," said Stoughton, " I have taken an early advantage of your permission to bring my friend Mr. Remington to visit you." " You are very good ; Mr. Remington is welcome both on your account and on his own," she said in 42 AN AVERAGE MAN. a sweet, low voice, and with a manner slightly languid, but completely gracious. " I know your mother and sisters very well, Mr. Remington," she continued, as she gave the young man her thin white hand. " Your mother is well, I hope ? " " Yes ; she and my sister Mabel are in Boston for a few days." Despite her unaffected simplicity Remington blushed, with a sense of that discrepancy which exists between Sevres china and common ware. " Ah, how charming ! Pray sit down, Mr. Remington. ,, She re-established herself on the lounge, and touched a little bell on the table beside her, which emitted a musical sound. The decorous man-servant appeared. " The tea, Dawson." Mrs. Fielding leaned back against the cushions. " You have come back to New York to stay, I hope, Mr. Remington." "Yes, I believe so, Mrs. Fielding." " I tell Mr. Remington," said Stoughton, " t h a t if he desires to be a success, he must write himself down in Mrs. Fielding's good graces." " I am sure Mr. Remington needs no assistance from any one to win his way," she said, with a pleasant smile; " I can see he is clever." Remington laughed confusedly. " Oh, I assure you that is quite a mistake," he murmured. Then, with an attempt at effusiveness which sounded a little elaborate : " I shall try to convince Mrs. Fielding of my desire for her favorable opinion." AN AVERAGE MAN. 43 The tea-things, a dainty Wedgwood service of quaint design, were brought in by Dawson and placed on the low plush-covered table at her elbow. She proceeded to make the tea while Stoughton told a bit or two of society news in his amusing vein. " I saw you the other evening at Delmonico's, I think, Mr. Remington," said Mrs. Fielding, presently. " T h a t Miss Idlewild is a lovely-looking girl. Do you know her well ? " " Only slightly." Stoughton gave an amused laugh. " You must not question him too closely there, Mrs. Fielding. I suspect Mr. Remington of being a gay deceiver." " Indeed," she murmured softly. She was pouring out tea into one of the quaint little cups, and, as she spoke, raised her eyes therefrom and let them fall inquiringly on Remington. " Are you, too, of the faithless kind ?" she asked, with a sigh of simulated despair. " Oh, I trust not," he answered, with a nervous laugh ; and as her glance encountered his, he blushed. " Perhaps Mr. Remington will make a confidante of me some day when he comes to see me alone. I can keep a secret. Do you take tea, Mr. Remington ?" she asked, with her head poised on one side, and another sly, blithe glance at the young man. Remington disliked tea. " If you please," he answered. " One lump, or two ?" and she. gracefully balanced the second bit of sugar in a liliputian pair 44 AN AVERAGE MAN. of tongs above the smoking beverage. " But stay ; I will leave it in the saucer, and you shall choose for yourself," she added airily, before Remington could reply. As he rose to receive his cup from her hand the portiere was drawn aside, and the voice of Dawson announced "Miss Tremaine—Miss Lawton — Miss Crosby." " How sweet of you, my dears !" Mrs. Fielding embraced all of the trio, who, kept in countenance by the superiority of their numbers, all chattered effusively at the same moment. They were young girls, dressed tastefully and in the height of fashion. Miss Tremaine was a tall, gaunt girl, with large bones and a long neck, which gave her something of a giraffe-like demeanor. She was eminently vivacious, and began at once to relate in a chattering but spirited tone the latest social intelligence. " Oh, Ethel," she cried, turning toward Mrs. Fielding, "have you heard that the Guards have been ordered to the war in the Transvaal ? Is n't it quite too distressing for poor dear Lady Poppleton ? You know ' Beauty' will have to go. You remember * Beauty/ of course ?" " What, the little one with the straw whiskers ?" " No, dear, that was i Adonis/ ' Beauty' is the clever one with the large eyes, who stopped, when he was out here, at the Dudley Robinsons'." Remington found himself beside Miss Lawton, a young lady in the vicinity of twenty-three, who possessed a pretty, round, florid face, with its tra- AN AVERAGE MAN. 45 ditional accompaniments of blue eyes and flaxen hair, but was short and dumpy. They had already met at a ball or two. Unlike Miss Tremaine, the still hunt was her method, and for some minutes she was very undemonstrative ; but when the ice was once broken, her chirpy prattle had the easy flow of a brook in early summer. " Were n't you at Bar Harbor last summer, Mr. Remington ? " " Yes, for a short time." " I thought I saw you there. I stayed eight weeks, and was dreadfully sorry to come home. It was my fifth season there. Is n't it a fascinating place ? I do think i t ' s the nicest place to go to in the summer I know of. Some people call it rowdy ; I don't; do you, Mr. Remington ? Mamma is always complaining about my being such a gad down there, as she calls i t ; but I can't see the harm of seeing people naturally, can you ? I make up for it by being frightfully proper in town. That reminds me, parties are beginning early this year. I suppose you will go about a great deal this winter, Mr. Remington. Mrs. David Kochlin's cards are out for a large musicale, and the George Butts — this was told me in strict confidence, so you must not say I told you — are to give a ball soon. Their daughter Pauline is a debutante. And then the Idlewilds. Do you know the Idlewilds, Mr. Remington ?" " A little." "Oh, really! I don't know them, but they've 46 AN AVERAGE MAN. sent me an invitation. I think I shall go. I hear the house is perfectly fascinating. Mamma does n't approve much of my going, but it will be such fun. Mr. Stoughton is a great friend of yours, is n't he ? I think he's so nice ! H e ' s a lawyer, I hear. I should think the law would be frightfully stupid. Oh, but how dreadful of me ! Perhaps you 're a lawyer, Mr. Remington ! " She stopped short with a little gasp, and then, in response to Remington's amused nod, — " What, really ? Well, you '11 forgive me, won't you, Mr. Remington ?" " What is that, Florence, I hear about forgiving?" exclaimed Mrs. Fielding, turning toward them. " You are getting on quite too fast. I can't have you monopolizing Mr. Remington altogether. You must beware of Miss Lawton, Mr. Remington ; she is dangerous." " I have discovered that already," said the young man, with a significant smile. "Ah, now," cried Miss Lawton, in her demure way, "how unkind! And all, Ethel, because I did not happen to know that he 's a lawyer." " I have no doubt it was all your fault, dear. But you have n't drunk your tea, Mr. Remington. It is quite cold. I am going to give you another cup. Yes, I insist; and you shall sit over here where Miss Lawton cannot engross your attention." As Remington crossed over to the vacant place on Mrs. Fielding's lounge, his glance fell upon Miss Crosby, who was listening intently to something Stoughton was saying. Remington had been AN AVERAGE MAN. 47 introduced to her a few evenings before, and although he had exchanged but a few words with her, the agreeable impression thereof had lingered with him a little. She was a cousin of Mrs. Fielding, and had much of her physique. The refined delicacy of her features was animated by the wistful interest of budding womanhood. One became aware at first that she had sympathetic brown eyes and a quiet manner. "Tell me," said Mrs. Fielding, interrupting his momentary reverie with a beseeching little air as of a desire for confidence, " how do you think you are going to like New York ?" A few minutes later Remington found himself talking to his fair hostess with a freedom that was delightful, and yet surprising to himself withal. The peculiar air of sympathy with which she listened to what he had to say drew from him, almost unwittingly, a frank exposure of his ideas. It was easy to be unreserved, for she seemed so quick to catch his meaning, so appreciative of mere suggestions of thought. She was, besides, graceful and pleasing. Her air expressed the perfection of natural elegance. She must be very clever, — and yet how young-looking she was. Her years could be scarcely greater in number than his own. But women mature so much faster than men. He was a mere boy beside her. He spoke of his travels, of the chitchat of the day, and of the defects of the reigning prima donna. Then, as he felt himself understood, he dwelt a 48 AN AVERAGE MAN. little on his impressions of the great city. Money was the ruling spirit of the age, and the seeming dearth of lofty ambitions a depressing evil. " I am so glad to hear you talk so," she murmured. " It is refreshing to meet a man who cares for something beyond dollars and cents. ,, She sighed gently. " A n d so you are a lawyer, Mr. Remington ?" " Yes, I have decided on the law as a profession." " How interesting! " and she gently knocked together in her clasped hands a pair of silver bracelets which she had untwisted from her arms. " Scarcely interesting, I fear/' replied Remington, with a little laugh, which betrayed, however, that he was pleased. " Your sex is wont to apply that adjective less indulgently." " Ah, but I cannot agree with you. It must be grand to be a lawyer and have important cases — or causes, you see I am ignorant of the precise term — to defend." She leaned back against the cushions, and looked at him earnestly from under her penthouse lids. Remington blushed and his eyes fell. He nervously indented, with the point of his cane, one of the flowers which patterned the carpet. " Perhaps — when you have them to defend. I am only a beginner." " Yes, but everything has a beginning," she murmured in low, sweet tones. "True." There was a pause, as if each were AN AVERAGE MAN. 49 wrapt in thought. Remington reached out his hand and took from the plush table the volume she had been reading. "Permit me," he said. " A h , Swinburne !" and he opened the book and began to turn over the pages. " Do you know him, Mr. Remington ?" " A little." His eyes caught a passage which he paused to dwell upon. " What is it, Mr. Remington ?" and she bent over so that she might share the page with the young man. " < Before Dawn/ That is one of my favorites. Is it not lovely ? " They were silent for a moment. It was the last stanza of the poem which had attracted. Remington's attention, and, as he came to it again in conclusion, he nodded his head in acquiescence with her enthusiasm. Mrs. Fielding repeated in soft murmur the lines that had struck his fancy: — " So hath it been, so be it; For who shall live and flee it ? But look that no man see it