Oswald Langdon | Page 3

soon brings dry
clothing and kindles a fire.
Oswald begins to meditate upon his mishap. "Close call," murmurs he,
"and just as I had completed that grand air-castle! At the very moment
when the acclaim was the loudest and the star of Langdon seemed
brightest, that blinding flash! That terrible shock, too, and such an
oppressive feeling, until the limb was removed from my breast! What
does it mean? How like and yet unlike my last night's dream! I feel so
cold, too." He stirs the fire, which is burning cheerily, and sits down in
the cushioned chair, the blood flowing from his mouth.

Oswald soon recovers from the hemorrhage, and is aroused from his
languor by the entrance of a fine-looking man whose general
appearance indicates a life of about fifty years.
Seeing the pale face, and noting its strong outlines, yet refined
expression, he stands for a moment in silent admiration.
"How do you feel now?"
"Much better, thank you," is the feeble reply.
Perceiving his guest's weakness, he rings a bell, and upon the prompt
appearance of a servant, gives orders which are soon complied with by
the bringing of refreshments.
Oswald learns that his kind host bears the name of Donald Randolph,
and is the owner of the beautiful country-seat known as "Northfield";
that he has a family consisting of a son and daughter; that the son is
away on a trip to India, the daughter visiting in London, but expected
home on the following day.
Wishing to know more of the girl, her age, whether single or married,
educated or otherwise, with the numerous further items of information
naturally desired by a young man of twenty-five, about the daughter of
an aristocratic, highly connected, wealthy English gentleman, Oswald,
however, has the tact and good breeding not to demand a "bill of
particulars."
There being a brief pause here, as if both feel that an important though
delicate subject is under consideration, Sir Donald becomes the
inquisitor, learning much about Oswald's past life without asking many
questions. Sir Donald manifests such kindly, unfeigned interest, so
much sympathy with Oswald's plans for the future, heartily approving
of his highest aspirations, that the young man confides unreservedly,
and tells it well.
Oswald's father was the younger son of Herbert Langdon, and for many
years had been rector of an important parish. His parents had placed

Oswald under a tutor, who had prepared him for Oxford. He had
finished a course at this institution, and was taking a pleasure trip on
horseback when the accident befell him. He now aspires to be a
barrister, though until within a few years his secret ambition had been
to be a great military leader. He had read of "St. Crispin," "Balaklava,"
the "Battle of the Nile," "Trafalgar," and "Waterloo," but the military
spirit is subservient to that of commerce and diplomacy. With much
sage assurance he said:
"Massed armies, long-range ordnance, impregnable forts, steel-armored
battle-ships, and deadly, explosive coast marine mines are simply
bellicose forms of pacific, neutral notes commanding the 'peace of
Europe.' The jealousy of nations will not permit wars of conquest for
colonial extension, and the mouths of frowning cannon are imperious
pledges of international comity. Weak dynasties will find tranquillity in
the fears of more august powers. Even the unspeakable Moslem will be
unmolested in his massacres, to insure regular clipping of Turkish
bonds in money markets of European capitals."
Here Sir Donald suggested that possibly this pacific, commercial
tendency had its perils, and through unforeseen complications might
cause war.
"The enervating influences of wealth, the extreme conservatism thereby
fostered, and the resulting disposition to accept any compromise rather
than interfere with the free course of trade, may create conditions
breeding hostilities. May not such extreme aversion to commercial
disturbance, and disposition to think lightly of national honor,
compared with financial security, be bids for attack from more hardy,
martial peoples, hav-* *ing little respect for the prerogatives of traffic
or the hypocritical refinements of diplomatic craft? Are not such
conditions, with the luxurious licentiousness so natural thereto,
combined with the stolid indifference and poverty of the masses, most
potent factors in the decline and fall of nations?"
Struck by the force of these suggestions, Oswald is silent.
Seeing that this interesting young man is pondering upon these

possibilities and resulting changes in the maps of the world, Sir Donald
watches him with much admiration. He thinks, I may not live to behold
much of this, but would like to see a cast of his horoscope.
After a brief pause, Oswald replies:
"Serious contingencies may grow out of these tendencies of the times.
These may require diplomacy and forbearance among the powers.
Barbarous peoples would be at a great disadvantage in a conflict with
any of the greater nations of the