Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 20, September, 1877.Various
History
Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 20, September, 1877.
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Science -- Periodicals
"Why should I? I suppose the money is invested properly. I draw the
dividends regularly, and I have no use for money but one. I mean to make
my father's life happy with it, and I know how to do that. Nobody can
teach me. What have I to do with this reformer and his State Home?"
Mr. Neckart had been in the habit of looking down on her in her
occasional outbursts with an amused indulgence as from an immeasurable
difference of years. He was looking down at her now with unsmiling and,
as she thought, unfriendly eyes; but she was suddenly, for the first
time, conscious of how young he actually was, and how near to her in
many unworded, fathomless ways. She drew back within the narrow limits
of the window, and was silent.
He withdrew his eyes from her with an effort, and did not immediately
answer. When he did, it was in a cool business tone. "I do not know
what relation Mr. Van Ness may hold to you hereafter, if any," he said.
"But he seems to me thoroughly honest and manly. He is the first
professed reformer I ever saw who was not either subservient or
aggressive to me, as a newspaper-man who did not ride his hobby."
"I do not see him with your eyes," she said with a shrug. "Bruno's,
rather."
Neckart laughed. After the manner of men, he had judged the man who was
crossing his life with calm common sense and justice, but he was quite
satisfied that the woman with neither should condemn him.
The late clear twilight lingered with a haze of red in the sky, although
the sun had been down for an hour or more. Jane stood irresolutely in
the window. Through the bushes she could see the stoop where her father
and the judge sat smoking, Mr. Van Ness beside them, his benign,
sheep-like gaze wandering slowly around in search of her.
"Of course he does not smoke!" she said. "He has not a single weakness
on which one can hang a liking; and he has actually taken father's own
chair!" which by the way she had cushioned herself years ago, when it
and two small stools furnished their shabby room. No wonder that she and
the captain looked upon it as a sacred relic.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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