The Landlord at Lion's Head — Volume 1Howells, William Dean
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The Landlord at Lion's Head — Volume 1
Howells, William Dean
Artists -- Fiction; Massachusetts -- Fiction
At the bottom of her heart she had both fear and contempt of all
towns-people, whom she generalized from her experience of them as summer
folks of a greater or lesser silliness. She often found herself unable to
cope with them, even when she felt that she had twice their sense; she
perceived that they had something from their training that with all her
undisciplined force she could never hope to win from her own environment.
But she believed that her son would have the advantages which baffled her
in them, for he would have their environment; and she had wished him to
rivet his hold upon those advantages by taking a wife from among them,
and by living the life of their world. Her wishes, of course, had no such
distinct formulation, and the feeling she had toward Cynthia as a
possible barrier to her ambition had no more definition. There had been
times when the fitness of her marriage with Jeff had moved the mother's
heart to a jealousy that she always kept silent, while she hoped for the
accident or the providence which should annul the danger. But Genevieve
Vostrand had not been the kind of accident or the providence that she
would have invoked, and when she saw Jeff's fancy turning toward her,
Mrs. Durgin had veered round to Cynthia. All the same she kept a keen eye
upon the young ladies among the summer folks who came to Lion's Head, and
tacitly canvassed their merits and inclinations with respect to Jeff in
the often-imagined event of his caring for any one of them. She found
that her artfully casual references to her son's being in Harvard
scarcely affected their mothers in the right way. The fact made them
think of the head waiters whom they had met at other hotels, and who were
working their way through Dartmouth or Williams or Yale, and it required
all the force of Jeff's robust personality to dissipate their erroneous
impressions of him. He took their daughters out of their arms and from
under their noses on long drives upon his buckboard, and it became a
convention with them to treat his attentions somewhat like those of a
powerful but faithful vassal.
Whether he was indifferent, or whether the young ladies were coy, none of
these official flirtations came to anything. He seemed not to care for
one more than another; he laughed and joked with them all, and had an
official manner with each which served somewhat like a disparity of years
in putting them at their ease with him. They agreed that he was very
handsome, and some thought him very talented; but they questioned whether
he was quite what you would call a gentleman. It is true that this
misgiving attacked them mostly in the mass; singly, they were little or
not at all troubled by it, and they severally behaved in an unprincipled
indifference to it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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