Mr. Claghorn's Daughter Part 9

"Paula," she said, "I ought not to have asked you to come here about this matter. I knew what you would desire and hoped you would be able to persuade me; I ought to have known myself better. I must do my duty; she must come to me."

"But, dear Miss Claghorn----"

"She is a Claghorn, and--dreadful as it is--a heathen as well, and alone in the world. I must do my duty; it is not easy, I a.s.sure you."

Paula quite believed this, and the belief did not add to her hope of success. When Miss Claghorn desired to do things which, in the eyes of others, were better left undone, she was apt to see her duty in such action. It was equally true that her duty being visible, she would do it, even if disagreeable. But the duty now before her was, for many reasons, very disagreeable, indeed, and strictly just as she was, she was but human, and the righteous indignation she felt for her own vacillation fell naturally in part upon Paula.

"At least do not let that letter prejudice you," urged Paula. "She is a sweet girl, as good as gold."

"Very likely. Gold is dross. Good girls do not deny their Maker."

This was indisputable. Paula sighed. "I am very sorry we cannot have her," was all she said.

Miss Claghorn looked at her thoughtfully and with some inward qualms at her own harshness. There was an opportunity to seasonably drop a word which for some time she had been considering as ready to be dropped, and which, if heeded, might have some consolation for the girl before her.

"You can have her--on one condition. Come now, Paula!"

"What is that?" asked the girl, hope in her eyes; some misgiving, too, for there was that in Miss Claghorn's expression which aroused it.

"Stop your s.h.i.+lly-shally with that little milliner-man, Arthur Cameril, and marry him. Then Natalie can pay you a good long visit."

This was more than a Christian ought to bear. Paula could do her duty, too.

"Miss Claghorn, Father Cameril has taken the vow of celibacy. The fact is well known. I am contemplating the same. I wish you good-morning,"

and so Paula majestically sailed away.

"Hoity-toity!" exclaimed Miss Achsah, as her visitor let herself out of the front door; and then, not disturbed, but in the belief that she had performed another disagreeable duty, she commenced the re-perusal of a letter in her hand. Which letter was as follows:

"Dear Miss Claghorn--Your grand-niece, Natalie, has arrived in this country. She naturally at once communicated with me, and I find her situation somewhat perplexing. To speak frankly, she has run away from home. It was her father's wish that she remain in the household of the Marquise de Fleury, and she has lived with that lady since Mr. Claghorn's death. But it seems that for some time past the guardian has tried to induce the ward to marry against her inclinations.

"I think there can be no doubt that the influences brought to bear on your grand-niece amounted to persecution, and I am disposed to regard her action as justified, having received from the Marquise (who was apprised of her destination by your niece) a letter, written in such a tone as to leave no doubt in my mind that the statements made to me by Miss Natalie are correct.

"The plan of your grand-niece is to live independently in this country. For the present this would be most imprudent. She is very young, and though by no means inexperienced in the ways of the world, is very foreign. She is quite resolute in her determination, and is aware that her property, in my charge, aside from some French possessions, is ample for her support.

Do not gather that she is not amenable to advice, or is inclined to be obstinate. This is not the case, but she has evidently had an unpleasant experience of guardians.h.i.+p, and is quite resolved under no circ.u.mstances to permit any disposition of herself matrimonially. This resolve is the foundation of her intention to remain independent, an intention which no doubt will be easily combated with her advance in knowledge of our American customs in this regard.

"It would be unfair, having shown you the only shadows connected with Beverley's daughter, were I to withhold the commendation justly due her. With such acquaintance as I had formed with her on the occasion of my visit to France, I gathered a good opinion of one whom, indeed, I only knew as a child. That opinion has been strengthened by occasional correspondence and by the personal observation of the last fortnight. She seems to be a charming girl, remarkably beautiful, with a mind of her own, and, doubtless, a will of her own; nevertheless, a person that would be an acquisition in any household. Were I blessed with a domestic circle, I should be well content to have Miss Natalie enter it; but, as you know, I am not so fortunate.

"I hesitate to mention one other detail, yet feel that you ought to be fully informed; and while I can, believe me, appreciate the standpoint from which you will regard that which I have to disclose, I beg you to take a charitable view of a matter which, to one of your rooted and cherished convictions, will be of transcendent importance. It is that your grand-niece is in religion a free-thinker, and rejects the Christian faith.

"To you, as the representative of the Claghorn family, a family which for generations has upheld the standard of purest orthodoxy, this information will come as a shock. Yet when I a.s.sure you that Miss Natalie's views (such as they are) are probably held rather from a sense of filial duty and affection than from conviction, the facts will, I am sure, appeal to your compa.s.sion, as well as to that stern sense of duty and justice so admirably exhibited in your life. For many years I have been aware that the late Beverley had trained his daughter in accordance with a theory which repudiated tenets sacred in your eyes. My only reason for never imparting the fact to you was because the knowledge could only be a grief to one who held the Claghorn traditions in reverence. The interest you occasionally displayed concerning one who had chosen to be an exile was, I believe, always satisfied as far as in my power, except as to this one particular. I regret now that I withheld a knowledge which circ.u.mstances have made important. I did wrong, but I need not ask you not to connect my wrong-doing with the claims of your grand-niece.

"Kindly consider this letter carefully and let me hear from you soon. Perhaps an invitation to spend a part or all of the coming summer with you would lead to an easy solution of the difficulties presented. Your grand-niece is at present staying with my friend, Mrs. Leon, who will be pleased that she remain; but I foresee that the young lady herself will object to that.

"With regards to Miss Cone, believe me,

"Respectfully yours, ELLIS WINTER."

CHAPTER VIII.

A MAIDEN FAIR, A MODERN EARLY FATHER AND A THEOLOGIAN.

Paula emerged from the White House in an un-Christian frame of mind. The fact might to an ordinary sinner seem pardonable, and Paula herself, though by no means an ordinary sinner, thought so, too. "Impertinent bigot!" In these unusually emphatic words she mentally expressed her opinion of Achsah Claghorn.

From several points of view Paula was not an ordinary sinner.

Externally, she was a very pleasing one, being in all things alluring to the eye. So nicely adjusted were her physical proportions that it could not be said that she was either tall or short, plump or meagre. A similar neutrality characterized the tints of her skin and hair. Her cheeks were never red, yet never pale; the much-used adjective "rosy"

would not properly describe the dainty tinge that, without beginning or end, or line of demarcation, redeemed her face from pallor. Her nose was neither long nor short, upturned or beak-like, and while no man could say that it was crooked and remain a man of truth, yet would no truth-lover say that it was straight. In all respects a negative nose, in no respect imperfect. Her skin, ears, neck, hands, feet--all were satisfying, yet not to be described by superlatives. Her hair was neither chestnut nor yellow, nor quite smooth nor kinky, but in color and adjustment restful; her eyes were nearly violet, and their brows and lashes just sufficiently decided to excite no comment. Paula's mouth was perhaps the only feature which, apart from the charming whole, demanded notice, and he who noticed sorrowed, for it was a mouth inviting, yet not offering kisses.

It is believed that it will be admitted that outwardly Paula Lynford was not an ordinary sinner. Nor was she such as to the inner being, if she herself could be believed; for at this period of her existence she was accustomed to introspection, and that habit had disclosed to her that she was very bad, indeed, "vile," as she fondly phrased it, or in moments of extreme exaltation, "the vilest of the vile."

A serene consciousness of vileness was a recent growth in her bosom.

Father Cameril (so known to a very small but devoted band of wors.h.i.+ppers--to the world at large, the Reverend Arthur Cameril) was fond of dwelling upon human and his own vileness, and his adorers desired to be such as he. Nor did the Reverend Father deny them this delight, but rather encouraged their perception of the unworthiness indicated by the unpleasant word which had been caught from him by the dames and damsels who rejoiced in him and in their own turpitude. Father Cameril was, in a very limited circle, quite the rage in the vicinity.

Since his advent spiritual t.i.tillation had been discovered in candles, att.i.tudes, novel genuflexions and defiance of the Bishop, a wary old gentleman, who was resolved to evade making a martyr of Father Cameril, being, from long observation, a.s.sured that sporadic sputterings of ultra-ritualism were apt to flicker and die if not fanned by opposition.

The good Father, meanwhile, unaware that the Bishop had resolved that no stake should be implanted for his burning, whereby he was to be an illumination to the Church, tasted in advance the beat.i.tude of martyrdom, and reveled in mysterious grief and saint-like resignation and meekness, and while hopefully expectant, he added to his inner joys and the eccentricity of his outward man by peculiar vesture of the finest quality, beneath which the fond and imaginative eyes of his followers saw, as in a vision, a hair s.h.i.+rt. He was known to aspire to knee-breeches, and was hopefully suspected of considering a tonsure as a means of grace and a sign of sanct.i.ty. His little church, St. Perpetua, the new and beautiful edifice erected by Mrs. Joseph Claghorn, of Stormpoint, in memory of her husband (an offence in Miss Claghorn's Calvinistic eyes, and regarded askance by Leonard), was crowded every Sunday at Ma.s.s, a function which was also celebrated daily at an hour when most people were still abed; Paula always, the night watchman, about going off duty occasionally, and three elderly ladies, blue and s.h.i.+vering, in attendance. Father Cameril was Miss Claghorn's special aversion. Tabitha Cone found in him much to admire. He was a good little man, inordinately vain, somewhat limited in intellect, and unconscious of wrong-doing. He prayed that the Church might be led from the path of error in which she obstinately chose to remain, and, by canonizing Henry VIII, display works meet for repentance; in which case he would hesitate no longer, but return home, that is, to the maternal bosom of Rome, at once.

As Paula saw the good Father coming down the street, holding in his yellow-gloved hand a bright-red little book, the redness whereof set off the delicate tint of the glove, while its gilded edges gleamed in the sunlight, she was more than usually conscious of the vileness which should have been meekness, even while her anger grew hotter at the insult offered by Miss Claghorn to the natty little man approaching, "like an early Father," she murmured, though any resemblance between the Reverend Arthur in kid gloves and tat 28, and Polycarp, for instance, was only visible to such vision as Paula's.

"You seem disturbed," he said, as the two gloved hands met in delicate pressure, and he uttered the usual sigh.

"A cherished hope," she answered, her clear violet eyes bent downward, "has been dashed."

"We must bear the cross; let us bear it worthily. I have been pained at not seeing you at confession, Paula. You neglect a means of lightening the burden of the spirit."

"My cousin objects, Father. I owe her the obedience of a daughter."

"You owe a higher obedience"--here his voice had that tone of sternness always sweet to the meek ears of his followers. "Nevertheless," he added, "do not act against her wish. I will, myself, see Mrs. Claghorn.

Meanwhile, bear your burdens with resignation, always remembering the weakness, yea, the vileness of the human heart."

"I strive," said Paula, looking very miserable and unconsciously taking an ill.u.s.tration from a heavily-laden washerwoman pa.s.sing, "not to faint by the wayside, but the load of life is heavy."

"But there are times when the heart's vileness is forgotten, the soul rises above its burdens and feels a foretaste of the life to come,"

interrupted Father Cameril a little confusedly as to the senses of the soul. "Try to rise to those heights."

"I do. May I ask your special intercession for a soul in darkness? One that I had hoped to gain."

"Hope on and pray. I shall not forget your request. The name is----"

"Natalie, the daughter of Mr. Beverley Claghorn. You have heard us mention them. Mr. Claghorn is dead. Until now she has lived in France, where she was born. I hope to see her soon at Easthampton."

"At Stormpoint! How pleasant for you! Paula, we shall rescue this dear child from the errors of a schismatic mother. I feel it here," and the Reverend Arthur indicated his bosom.

Paula recognized in the schismatic mother the Roman Catholic Church. She felt it sinful to leave Father Cameril in ignorance of the facts. She felt it unkind to her friend to disclose them. She could sin, if hard pushed; she could not be unkind. She concealed the unbelief.

"We knew them some years since in Europe," she said. "I mean Mr.

Claghorn and Natalie. She is a sweet girl; but she will visit at Miss Claghorn's."