Murder in Any Degree | Page 6

first time their eyes met and lingered, by
the mysterious chemistry of the passions Rantoul fell desperately in
love with this little slip of a girl, who scarcely reached to his shoulder;
who, on her part, instantly made up her mind that she had found the
husband she intended to have. Two weeks later they were engaged.
She was seventeen, scarcely more than a child, with clear, blue eyes
that seemed too large for her body, very timid and appealing. It is true
she seldom expressed an opinion, but she listened to every one with a
flattering smile, and the reputations of brilliant talkers have been built
on less. She had a way of passing her two arms about Rantoul's great
one and clinging to him in a weak, dependent way that was quite
charming.
When Cyrus Glover was informed that his daughter intended to marry a
dauber in paints, he started for Paris on ten hours' notice. But Mrs.
Glover who was just as resolved on social conquests as Glover was in
controlling the plate-glass field, went down to meet him at the boat, and
by the time the train entered the St. Lazare Station, he had been
completely disciplined and brought to understand that a painter was one
thing and that a Rantoul, who happened to paint, was quite another.
When he had known Rantoul a week; and listened open-mouthed to his
eloquent schemes for reordering the universe, and the arts in particular,
he was willing to swear that he was one of the geniuses of the world.

The wedding took place shortly, and Cyrus Glover gave the
bridegroom a check for $100,000, "so that he wouldn't have to be
bothering his wife for pocketmoney." Herkimer was the best man, and
the Quarter attended in force, with much outward enthusiasm. The
bride and groom departed for a two-year's trip around the world, that
Rantoul might inspire himself with the treasures of Italy, Greece, India,
and Japan.
Every one, even Herkimer, agreed that Rantoul was the luckiest man in
Paris; that he had found just the wife who was suited to him, whose
fortune would open every opportunity for his genius to develop.
"In the first place," said Bennett, when the group had returned to
Herkimer's studio to continue the celebration, "let me remark that in
general I don't approve of marriage for an artist."
"Nor I," cried Chatterton, and the chorus answered, "Nor I."
"I shall never marry," continued Bennett.
"Never," cried Chatterton, who beat a tattoo on the piano with his heel
to accompany the chorus of assent.
"But--I add but--in this case my opinion is that Rantoul has found a
pure diamond."
"True!"
"In the first place, she knows nothing at all about art, which is an
enormous advantage."
"Bravo!"
"In the second place, she knows nothing about anything else, which is
better still."
"Cynic! You hate clever women," cried Jacobus.
"There's a reason."

"All the same, Bennett's right. The wife of an artist should be a creature
of impulses and not ideas."
"True."
"In the third place," continued Bennett, "she believes Rantoul is a
demigod. Everything he will do will be the most wonderful thing in the
world, and to have a little person you are madly in love with think that
is enormous."
"All of which is not very complimentary to the bride," said Herkimer.
"Find me one like her," cried Bennett.
"Ditto," said Chatterton and Jacobus with enthusiasm.
"There is only one thing that worries me," said Bennett, seriously. "Isn't
there too much money?"
"Not for Rantoul."
"He's a rebel."
"You'll see; he'll stir up the world with it."
Herkimer himself had approved of the marriage in a whole-hearted way.
The childlike ways of Tina Glover had convinced him, and as he was
concerned only with the future of his friend, he agreed with the rest that
nothing luckier could have happened.
Three years passed, during which he received occasional letters from
his old chum, not quite so spontaneous as he had expected, but filled
with the wonder of the ancient worlds. Then the intervals became
longer, and longer, and finally no letters came.
He learned in a vague way that the Rantouls had settled in the East
somewhere near New York, but he waited in vain for the news of the
stir in the world of art that Rantoul's first exhibitions should produce.

His friends who visited in America returned without news of Rantoul;
there was a rumor that he had gone with his father-in-law into the
organization of some new railroad or trust. But even this report was
vague, and as he could not understand what could have happened, it
remained for a long time to him a mystery. Then he forgot it.
Ten years after Rantoul's marriage to little Tina Glover, Herkimer
returned