Chit-Chat; Nirvana; The Searchlight Part 12

"What law books have you read?"

"I have read Bryce's American Commonwealth, Cooley's Const.i.tutional Limitations and a work on Constables. I have been too busy getting practical ideas about courts and juries to read much law; with me the main thing is to know the judge and the jury."

His examiners issued a license. Judge Dobson at first demurred, but finally consented when his colleagues explained what efficient service Saylor had rendered as a member of the Judiciary Committee, saying: "I ought not to do it, but his neighbors will soon find out what he knows and leave him alone; he will not have opportunity for much harm."

After the adjournment of the Legislature Caleb moved to Richmond and formed a partners.h.i.+p with Webster Jones, who was a graduate of an eastern law school. Jones prepared their pleadings and attended to all equity practice, while Caleb solicited business and tried their jury cases. The firm obtained its share of the business and Caleb met with more than average success in the handling of his jury cases.

His vanity was tremendous. No one had ever succeeded in satisfying its voracious appet.i.te; it would swallow anything and hungrily plead for more. His father, having started early and knowing what pleased his boy, was his most satisfactory feeder. It was Caleb's practice to drive out to the farm on Sat.u.r.day afternoon and remain until Monday morning, boasting of his successes in business and politics and listening with satisfaction to his father's unstinted praise.

One Sunday afternoon, about a year after he began practicing law, his father being ill and there being no one about the house who cared to spend the afternoon talking with him about what he had done; he decided to drive over to Colonel Hamilton Clay's and call upon his daughter Rosamond.

He had tried it once or twice before. She had sent word she was not at home, then made it a point as he drove away to show herself at a door or window, so he might know that another call was not expected. But this species of reception did not deter Caleb or penetrate the armor of his conceit. It was impossible for him to believe that Miss Clay, or any other woman, might not find his attentions desirable.

As he drove up before the old Clay homestead, which had been the birthplace of a General, a Governor and an Amba.s.sador, Rosamond, reading near an upper window, saw Mose, the stable man, take his horse. She thought: "Here comes that conceited boor, Caleb Saylor, to see me again; I shall send word I am not at home; * * * but it is dreadfully dull this afternoon, no one else seems to be coming, this book is the worst ever, he might prove entertaining; I'm twenty-nine and can't be so particular; I'll go down and see how the clown talks."

"Well, Mr. Saylor, it has been quite a time since you called. Take this seat," and Rosamond sat down on the other end of a large hair-cloth sofa, where her Aunt Margaret had sat and entertained her Sunday afternoon visitors more than thirty years before.

She was the same queenly, thrilling Rosamond that John Cornwall, ten years before, had loved for a few days. Her beauty was certainly none the less; her maturer form, more charming, was becomingly exhibited in a closely fitting dark blue gown.

After a few commonplace remarks, Caleb Saylor made himself the sole topic of his own conversation. This was the subject nearest his heart and one upon which he elaborated with minuteness and eloquence. As she looked at and listened to him the thought at first unwelcome, entered her mind that here was a man she might have, and without effort, for a husband. And as she listened to his tale of "I done this" and "I done that" and "I will do this and that" she thought how she, a woman of tact and judgment and refinement, might take into her hands this thing and, in a sense, make it plastic clay, and use its elements of life, and power, and energy, and unscrupulousness, and nerve, and egotism, and mountain courage, and almost make a man like her great grandfather.

The experiment was a fitting opportunity for an ambitious and courageous woman who, though she might not find full measure of happiness and love which only comes with respect, yet would meet with adventure, would dare fate and hazard chance with fickle fortune. The prospect to her mind was more pleasing than to be the wife of a gentleman farmer and grow fat and matronly--the other chance just then offered.

For the first time she appraised his virtues and was pleased with his appearance. She wondered if he had sense enough to keep still when silence was golden, and could be taught at opportune times to s.h.i.+ft the shower of his eloquent eulogy of himself to an ambitious friend.

Caleb and Rosamond pa.s.sed two hours of the afternoon together in the parlor of the old mansion undisturbed in their communion by the portraits of her patrician ancestors; the living members of her family walked softly, even when they pa.s.sed the closed door. When she received they dared not intrude, though they had never felt more curious or been more surprised than at this protracted visit.

As Caleb rose to leave, he took her hand and said: "I have sh.o.r.ely enjoyed my call and am coming again next Sunday afternoon."

"Do, Mr. Saylor! I shall keep the date for you. It is not becoming in neighbors to be so unsociable or see so little of each other," and slowly, after a lingering pressure, she withdrew her hand.

The next Sunday afternoon Caleb called again. He came at two and when he left the spring sun had kissed the fields goodnight. To Rosamond's great surprise, he proposed.

"We are scarcely acquainted, Mr. Saylor. Though we have been neighbors for years, you have denied me the pleasure of your visits. You know a girl can not call upon a man. How do you know that you love me as you should? I have never thought about you as a husband, though I find your company most agreeable. You must give me another week before you press for an answer."

"I will press you now and let you say 'yes' again next week."

And they laughed and the bride-to-be blushed, and with downcast, dreamy eyes, slowly yielding to the increasing pressure of his strong, young arm, unexpectedly found her head nestling in contentment and happiness upon his broad shoulder.

That night she disturbed the peace and quiet of the family circle by announcing that she was to be a June bride and Mr. Saylor was to be the groom.

Her mother rose and kissed her and in tears resumed her seat without speaking. Her father grew red of face and swore that the upstart should never again put foot upon the place, at which she informed him that his remarks were uncalled for and his energy wasted. Her brother told her she was lowering herself and disgracing the family name, but, he supposed, taking advantage of what she must consider a last opportunity.

To which she replied: "I did not expect such remarks from you, Bradley, as three years ago you asked Mary Saylor to be Mrs. Bradley Clay, an honor she declined with thanks." Nothing more was said in opposition to the marriage.

During April and May, Rosamond and her mother were busy preparing for the wedding, which occurred on the 5th of June and was attended by the aristocracy of four counties. There were a few guests from even a greater distance. Judge Singer and his wife were present, as was a former Governor; Dorothy and her husband came on from Pittsburgh, Mrs.

Neal from Harlan, and Mary from Wellesley; but John Cornwall was not invited.

Two years after his marriage Caleb was made a member of the Democratic State Central Committee and a member of the Campaign Committee from his district in a close race for Governor. Taking the advice of his wife, which was becoming a habit, he made a liberal contribution, sending it directly to the candidate, and rendered very efficient and valuable service. He made two very good speeches, which were written by his wife, who also drilled him in preparation for their delivery. She long since had spread the information throughout the State that his mountain idioms and ungrammatical lapses were affectations to catch the uneducated voter.

The Governor, shortly after qualification, appointed Saylor as a Colonel on his staff, and he and his wife were entertained at the mansion. His wife was named as among those to receive at a reception given by the Governor to the newly inducted State officials and the General a.s.sembly.

About this time a very wealthy man who owned a farm near Lexington died.

The State became involved in litigation, seeking to recover inheritance and ad valorem taxes from his estate, claiming he had died a resident of Kentucky. Similar litigation was pending in the State of New York.

Upon the recommendation of the Attorney General that special counsel was needed, the Governor appointed Colonel Caleb Saylor and ex-Chief Justice Dobson to represent the State. Without a great deal of trouble they collected eight hundred thousand dollars and were paid a fee of fifty thousand dollars for their services, thirty-five thousand of which by contract went to Colonel Saylor as senior counsel.

He and his wife had spent a pleasant week in New York while he made his investigation and compromised the State's claim. The day before they returned home they visited Tiffany's. Mrs. Saylor's love and respect for her husband were in no sense lessened when he invested three thousand dollars in two rings, which, though they were flawless gems, could scarcely be said to adorn his wife's tapering fingers and patrician hands.

His friends noticed that now, instead of singing his own praises, he could never say too much in laudation of his wife; and she clung to his arm and whispered sweet speeches into his ear as a bride of eighteen might do.

It was noticeable that the Colonel had grown to be adept at showering compliments upon his superiors and always had pretty speeches for their wives. On county court day he went out to the cattle market and shook hands all round with the farmers.

In the spring of 1899, about seven years before Colonel Saylor's marriage, Cornwall received an invitation to the commencement exercises of Wellesley and noticed that Mary was named as salutatorian of her cla.s.s.

He sent her a set of "The American Poets," gilt-edged in white leather bindings, and received a note of thanks and an invitation to visit the Saylor home any time he found it convenient during the summer.

Mary came home the first of June and for a while enjoyed undisturbed the quiet of the old farmhouse. The neighbors, including Bradley and Rosamond Clay, were just beginning to call upon her and ask her to their entertainments when she received and accepted an offer as a.s.sistant teacher of mathematics at Wellesley. The first of September she returned to the college, stopping for several days in Was.h.i.+ngton and New York.

The following summer she spent traveling with several girl graduates and the teacher of French in England, France and Italy. She sent Cornwall a remarkably fine photograph of herself taken at Rome.

This he framed and kept upon his dresser. His mother, seeing and admiring the picture, asked;--"Who is the young lady, John?"

"I do not know, but as soon as I can discover her name and domicile, I propose to propose."

"It certainly is time; you are nearly thirty. I hope to see you married before I go, John."

"Mother, I know no argument against that ancient and hallowed inst.i.tution, and would not advise a friend against taking such a step, even at the present and ever-increasing high cost of living. I do not use such language. Since I first put on long trousers I have hunted high and low for a wife, and with a persistence equalling that of a young penniless widow, but without success. Just when it seems that within a few days I shall be the happy recipient of the congratulations of my friends who in their hearts feel certain I am about to fall victim to the wiles of a designing female person, cruel fate steps in and with peremptory halting gesture and commanding voice has always said;--thus far, but no father. You will doubtless live to see me at fifty struggle through a dance with the daughter of my old sweetheart while the son of another breaks us; and I, broken of wind and mopping my bald head, shall retire to a corner and rest while conversing with the hostess'

grandmother. Seriously, mother, I intend to marry just as soon as a girl as good and sweet as you are will have me. I am beginning to think it will be Mary, or my stenographer. I have not seen Mary for more than five years; it is nearly a year since I heard from her. In some ways the photograph of that beautiful, fas.h.i.+onably-gowned girl reminds me of her.

Do you suppose that's Mary? But she surely is not in Rome!--How do you like this, mother?" And John, whanging an accompaniment on the piano, sang this Arabian song:

"THE MOTHER.

"My daughter, 'tis time that thou wert wed; Ten summers already are over thy head; I must find you a husband, if under the sun, The conscript catcher has left us one.

"THE DAUGHTER.

"Dear mother, ONE husband will never do: I have so much love that I must have two; And I'll find for each, as you shall see, More love than both can bring to me.

"One husband shall carry a lance so bright; He shall roam the desert for spoil at night; And when morning s.h.i.+nes on the tall palm tree, He shall find sweet welcome home with me.

"The other a sailor bold shall be: He shall fish all day in the deep blue sea; And when evening brings his hour of rest, He shall find repose on this faithful breast.

"THE MOTHER.

"There's no chance my child, of a double match, For men are scarce and hard to catch; So I fear you must make one husband do, And try to love him as well as two.

"Goodbye, I must go to the office; kiss me, mother!"