An Original Belle | Page 7

gravitation. Marian Vosburgh was neither weak nor criminal at heart.
Thus far she had yielded thoughtlessly, inconsiderately, rather than
deliberately, to the circumstances and traditions of her life. Her mother
had been a belle and something of a coquette, and, having had her
career, was in the main a good and sensible wife. She had given her

husband little trouble if not much help. She had slight interest in that
which made his life, and slight comprehension of it, but in affectionate
indifference she let him go his way, and was content with her domestic
affairs, her daughter, and her novel. Marian had unthinkingly looked
forward to much the same experience as her natural lot. To-night she
found herself querying: "Are there men to-day who are not half what
they might have been because of mamma's delusive smiles? Have any
gone down into shadows darker than those cast by misfortune and
death, because she permitted herself to become the light of their lives
and then turned away?"
Then came the rather painful reflection: "Mamma is not one to be
troubled by such thoughts. It does not even worry her that she is so
little to papa, and that he virtually carries on his life-work alone. I don't
see how I can continue my old life after to-night. I had better shut
myself up in a convent; yet just how I can change everything I scarcely
know."
The night proved a perturbed and almost sleepless one from the chaos
and bitterness of her thoughts. The old was breaking up; the new,
beginning.
The morning found her listless, discontented, and unhappy. The
glamour had faded out of her former life. She could not continue the
tactics practised in coarse imitation by the Irish servant, who took her
cue as far as possible from her mistress. The repugnance was due as
much to the innate delicacy and natural superiority of Marian's nature
as to her conscience. Her clear, practical sense perceived that her
course differed from the other only in being veneered by the
refinements of her social position,--that the evil results were much
greater. The young lady's friends were capable of receiving more harm
than the maid could inflict upon her acquaintances.
There would be callers again during the day and evening, and she did
not wish to see them. Their society now would be like a glass of
champagne from which the life had effervesced.
At last in her restlessness and perplexity she decided to spend a day or
two with her father in their city home, where he was camping out, as he
termed it. She took a train to town, and sent a messenger boy to his
office with a note asking him to dine with her.
Mr. Vosburgh looked at her a little inquiringly as he entered his home,

which had the comfortless aspect of a city house closed for the summer.
"Am I de trop, papa? I have come to town for a little quiet, and to do
some shopping."
"Come to New York for quiet?"
"Yes. The country is the gayest place now, and you know a good many
are coming and going. I am tired, and thought an evening or two with
you would be a pleasant change. You are not too busy?"
"It certainly will be a change for you, Marian."
"Now there's a world of satire in that remark, and deserved, too, I fear.
Mayn't I stay?"
"Yes, indeed, till you are tired of me; and that won't be long in this dull
place, for we are scarcely in a condition now to receive callers, you
know."
"What makes you think I shall be tired of you soon, papa?"
"Oh--well--I'm not very entertaining. You appear to like variety. I
suppose it is the way with girls."
"You are not consumed with admiration for girls' ways, are you, papa?"
"I confess, my dear, that I have not given the subject much research. As
a naturalist would say, I have no doubt that you and your class have
curious habits and interesting peculiarities. There is a great deal of life,
you know, which a busy man has to accept in a general way, especially
when charged with duties which are a severe and constant strain upon
his mind. I try to leave you and your mother as free from care as
possible. You left her well, I trust?"
"Very well, and all going on as usual. I'm dissatisfied with myself, papa,
and you unconsciously make me far more so. Is a woman to be only a
man's plaything, and a dangerous one at that?"
"Why, Marian, you ARE in a mood! I suppose a woman, like a man,
can be very much what she pleases. You certainly have had a chance to
find out what pleases most