A Mountain Woman | Page 8

a drawing-room," said Jessica, "because there he
deals with theory and not with action. And he has such beautiful
theories that the women, who are all idealists, adore him."
The next morning I awoke with a con- viction that I had been idling too
long. I went back to the city and brushed the dust from my desk. Then
each morning, I, as Jessica put it, "formed public opinion" to the extent
of one column a day in the columns of a certain enterprising morning
journal.
Brainard said I had treated him shabbily to leave upon the heels of his
coming. But a man who works for his bread and butter must put a limit
to his holiday. It is dif- ferent when you only work to add to your
general picturesqueness. That is what I wrote Leroy, and it was the
unkindest thing I ever said to him; and why I did it I do not know to
this day. I was glad, though, when he failed to answer the letter. It gave
me a more reasonable excuse for feeling out of patience with him.
The days that followed were very dull. It was hard to get back into the
way of working. I was glad when Jessica came home to set up our little
establishment and to join in the autumn gayeties. Brainard brought his
wife to the city soon after, and went to housekeeping in an odd sort of a
way.
"I couldn't see anything in the place save curios," Jessica reported, after
her first call on them. "I suppose there is a cooking- stove somewhere,
and maybe even a pantry with pots in it. But all I saw was Alaska
totems and Navajo blankets. They have as many skins around on the
floor and couches as would have satisfied an ancient Briton. And
everybody was calling there. You know Mr. Brainard runs to curios in
selecting his friends as well as his furniture. The parlors were full this
afternoon of ab- normal people, that is to say, with folks one reads
about. I was the only one there who hadn't done something. I guess it's
be- cause I am too healthy."
"How did Mrs. Brainard like such a motley crew?"
"She was wonderful -- perfectly wonder- ful! Those insulting creatures

were all studying her, and she knew it. But her dignity was perfect, and
she looked as proud as a Sioux chief. She listened to every one, and
they all thought her so bright."
"Brainard must have been tremendously proud of her."
"Oh, he was -- of her and his Chilcat portières."
Jessica was there often, but -- well, I was busy. At length, however, I
was forced to go. Jessica refused to make any further excuses for me.
The rooms were filled with small celebrities.
"We are the only nonentities," whispered Jessica, as she looked around;
"it will make us quite distinguished."
We went to speak to our hostess. She stood beside her husband, looking
taller than ever; and her face was white. Her long red gown of clinging
silk was so pe- culiar as to give one the impression that she was dressed
in character. It was easy to tell that it was one of Leroy's fancies. I
hardly heard what she said, but I know she reproached me gently for
not having been to see them. I had no further word with her till some
one led her to the piano, and she paused to say, --
"That poet you spoke of to me -- the one you said was a friend of yours
-- he is my friend now too, and I have learned to sing some of his songs.
I am going to sing one now." She seemed to have no timidity at all, but
stood quietly, with a half smile, while a young man with a Russian
name played a strange minor prelude. Then she sang, her voice a
wonderful contralto, cold at times, and again lit up with gleams of pas-
sion. The music itself was fitful, now full of joy, now tender, and now
sad:
"Look off, dear love, across the sallow sands, And mark yon meeting of
the sun and sea, How long they kiss in sight of all the lands, Ah! longer,
longer we."
"She has a genius for feeling, hasn't she?" Leroy whispered to me.

"A genius for feeling!" I repeated, angrily. "Man, she has a heart and a
soul and a brain, if that is what you mean! I shouldn't think you would
be able to look at her from the standpoint of a critic."
Leroy shrugged his shoulders and went off. For a moment I almost
hated him for not feeling more resentful. I felt as if he owed it to his
wife to take