Charleston Earthquake, S.C., 1886 -- Fiction; South Carolina -- History -- 1865- -- Fiction
"You cannot separate them, Ella. Think of our own relation. What touches
one touches the other."
"Well, papa, it's all over, and I've told you everything. Since I'm not to
go to Mrs. Willoughby's any more, there is little probability that I shall
meet him again, except in the street. If he bows to me, I shall return the
courtesy with quiet dignity, for he has acted like a gentleman toward me,
and, for the sake of my own self-respect, I must act like a lady toward
him. If he seeks to talk to me, I shall tell him it is forbidden, and that
will end it, for he is too honorable to attempt anything clandestine."
"I'm not sure of that."
"I am, papa. He wouldn't be such an idiot, for he understands me well
enough to know what would be the result of that kind of thing. But he
isn't that kind of a man."
"How should you know what kind of a man he is?"
"Oh, Heaven has provided us poor women with intuitions!"
"True, to a certain extent, but the rule is proved by an awful lot of
exceptions."
"Perhaps if they were studied out, inclinations rather than intuitions
were followed."
"Well, my dear, we won't discuss these vague questions. Your duty is as
simple and clear as mine is. Do as you have promised, and all will be
well. I must now dress for dinner." And kissing her affectionately, he
went up to his room.
She took his seat, and looked vacantly out of the window, with a vague
dissatisfaction at heart. Unrecognized fully as yet, the great law of
nature, which brings to each a distinct and separate existence, was
beginning to operate. As she had said to Mara, vital interests were
looming up, new experiences coming, of which she could no more think his
thoughts than he hers.
Her face was a little clouded when she sat down to dinner, and she
observed Mrs. Bodine looking at her keenly. Instinctively she sought to
conceal her deeper feelings, and to become her mirthful self.
"You have not told me about your call yet," the old lady remarked.
"Well, I felt that papa should have the first recital. I met again the son
of that old--ahem!--Mr. Houghton, and I have begun to ostracize him."
"Ella," said her father, almost sternly, "do not speak in that way. Our
feelings are strong, sincere, and well-grounded."
"There, papa, I did not mean to reflect lightly upon them. Indeed, I was
not thinking of them, but of Mr. Houghton."
"Oh, Cousin Hugh! let the child talk in her own natural way. She wouldn't
scratch one of your crutches with a pin, much less hurt you."
"Forgive me, Ella," he said, "I misunderstood you."
"Yes, in the main, papa, but to be frank, I don't enjoy this ostracizing
business, and I hope I won't have any more of it to do."
"There is no reason why you should. Cousin Sophy, there should be people
enough in Charleston for Ella to visit without the chance of meeting Mr.
Houghton, or any of his ilk."
"So there are. I'll manage that. Well, Ella, how did you set about
ostracizing young Houghton?" And the old lady began to laugh.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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