An Original Belle

  "MARIAN," asked her father, after smoking awhile in silence, "whatdid you mean by your emphatic negative when I asked you if you werenot content to be a conventional woman? How much do you mean?"

  "I wish you would help me find out, papa."

  "How! don't you know?"

  "I do not; I am all at sea."

  "Well, my dear, to borrow your own illustration, you can't be farfrom shore yet. Why not return? You have seemed entirely satisfiedthus far."

  "Were you content with me, papa?"

  "I think you have been a very good little girl, as girls go."

  "'Good little girl, as girls go;' that's all."

  "That's more than can be said of many."

  "Papa, I'm not a little girl; I am a woman of twenty years."

  "Yes, I know; and quite as sensible as many at forty."

  "I am no companion for you."

  "Indeed you are; I've enjoyed having you with me this eveningexceedingly."

  "Yes, as you would have enjoyed my society ten years ago. I've beenbut a little girl to you all the time. Do you know the thought thathas been uppermost in my mind since you joined me?"

  "How should I? How long does one thought remain uppermost in agirl's mind?"

  "I don't blame you for your estimate. My thought is this,--we arenot acquainted with each other."

  "I think I was acquainted with you, Marian, before this mood began."

  "Yes, I think you were; yet I was capable of this 'mood,' as youcall it, before."

  "My child," said Mr. Vosburgh, coming to her side and stroking herhair, "I have spoken more to draw you out than for anything else.Heaven forbid that you for a moment should think me indifferent toanything that relates to your welfare! You wish me to advise, tohelp you. Before I can do this I must have your confidence, I mustknow your thoughts and impulses. You can scarcely have a purposeyet. Even a quack doctor will not attempt diagnosis or prescribehis nostrum without some knowledge of the symptoms. When I lastsaw you in the country you certainly appeared like a conventionalsociety girl of an attractive type, and were evidently satisfiedso to remain. You see I speak frankly, and reveal to you my habitof making quick practical estimates, and of taking the world as Ifind it. You say you were capable of this mood--let us call it anaspiration--before. I do not deny this, yet doubt it. When peoplechange it is because they are ripe, or ready for change, asare things in nature. One can force or retard nature; but I don'tbelieve much in intervention. With many I doubt whether there iseven much opportunity for it. They are capable of only the gradualmodification of time and circumstances. Young people are apt tohave spasms of enthusiasm, or of self-reproach and dissatisfaction.These are of little account in the long run, unless there is fibreenough in character to face certain questions, decide them, andthen act resolutely on definite lines of conduct. I have now givenyou my views, not as to a little child, but as to a mature womanof twenty. Jesting apart, you ARE old enough, Marian, to thinkfor yourself, and decide whether you will be conventional or not.The probabilities are that you will follow the traditions of yourpast in a very ladylike way. That is the common law. You are toowell-bred and refined to do anything that society would condemn."

  "You are not encouraging, papa."

  "Nor am I discouraging. If you have within you the force to breakfrom your traditions and stop drifting, you will make the factevident. If you haven't it would be useless for me to attemptto drag, drive, or coax you out of old ways. I am too busy a manto attempt the useless. But until you tell me your present mentalattitude, and what has led to it, we are talking somewhat at random.I have merely aimed to give you the benefit of some experience."

  "Perhaps you are taking the right course; I rather think you are.Perhaps I prove what a child I am still, because I feel that Ishould like to have you treat me more as you did when I was learningto walk. Then you stretched out your hands, and sustained me, andshowed me step by step. Papa, if this is a mood, and I go backto my old, shallow life, with its motives, its petty and unworthytriumphs, I shall despise myself, and ever have the humiliatingconsciousness that I am doing what is contemptible. No matter howone obtains the knowledge of a truth or a secret, that knowledgeexists, remains, and one can't be the same afterwards. It makes mycheeks tingle that I obtained my knowledge as I did. It came likea broad glare of garish light, in which I saw myself;" and she toldhim the circumstances.

  He burst into a hearty laugh, and remarked, "Pat did put the ethicsof the thing strongly."

  "He made 'the thing,' as you call it, odious then and forever. I'vebeen writhing in self-contempt ever since. When to be conventionalis to be like a kitchen-maid, and worse, do you wonder at my revoltfrom the past?"

  "Others won't see it in that light, my dear."

  "What does it matter how others see it? I have my own life to live,to make or mar. How can I go on hereafter amusing myself in whatnow seems a vulgar, base, unwomanly way? It was a coarse, rudehand that awakened me, papa, but I am awake. Since I have met youI have had another humiliation. As I said, I am not even acquaintedwith you. I have never shown any genuine interest in that whichmakes your life, and you have no more thought of revealing yourselfand your work to me than to a child."

  "Marian," said her father, slowly, "I think you are not only capableof a change, but ripe for it. You inspire hope within me, and thisfact carries with it the assurance that you also inspire respect.No, my dear, you don't know much about me; very few do. No manwith a nature like mine reveals himself where there is no desirefor the knowledge, no understanding, no sympathy, or even whereall these exist, unless prompted by his heart. You know I am thelast one in the world to put myself on exhibition. But it wouldbe a heavenly joy to me--I might add surprise--if my own daughterbecame like some of the women of whom I have read and dreamed; andI do read and dream of that in which you little imagine me to beinterested. To the world I am a stern, reticent, practical man I mustbe such in my calling. In my home I have tried to be good-natured,affectionate, and philosophical. I have seen little opportunity foranything more. I do not complain, but merely state a fact whichindicates the general lot. We can rarely escape the law of heredity,however. A poet and a metaphysician were among our German ancestry;therefore, leading from the business-like and matter-of-fact apartmentof my mind, I have a private door by which I can slip away intothe realm of speculation, romance, and ideals. You perceive thatI have no unnatural or shame-faced reticence about this habit. Itell you of it the moment you show sufficient interest to warrantmy speaking."

  "But, papa, I cannot hope to approach or even suggest the idealsof your fancy, dressed, no doubt, in mediaeval costume, and talkingin blank verse."

  "That's a superficial view, Marian. Neither poetic or outlandishcostume, nor the impossible language put into the mouths of theircreations by the old bards, makes the unconventional woman. Thereis, in truth, a conventionality about these very things, only itis antiquated. It is not a woman's dress or phraseology that makesher an ideal or an inspiration, but what she is herself. No twoleaves are alike on the same tree, but they are all enough aliketo make but one impression. Some are more shapely than others,and flutter from their support with a fairer and more conspicuousgrace to the closely observant; but there is nothing independentabout them, nothing to distinguish them especially from theircompanions. They fulfil their general purpose, and fall away. Thissimile applies to the majority of people. Not only poetry and romance,but history also, gives us instances wherein men and women differand break away from accepted types, some in absurd or grotesqueways, others through the sheer force of gifted selfishness, andothers still in natural, noble development of graces of heart andmind."

  "Stop generalizing, and tell me, your silly, vain, flirtatiousdaughter, how I can be unconventional in this prosaic midday ofcivilization."

  "Prosaic day? You are mistaken, Marian. There never was a periodlike it Barbaric principles, older than Abraham, are now to triumph,or give place to a better and more enlightened human nature. Wealmost at this moment hea
r the echoes of a strife in which specimensof the best manhood of the age are arrayed against one another ina struggle such as the world has never witnessed. I have my partin the conflict, and it brings to me great responsibilities anddangers."

  "Dangers! You in danger, papa?"

  "Yes, certainly. Since you wish to be treated like a woman, and nota child,--since you wish me to show my real life,--you shall knowthe truth. I am controlled by the government that is engaged in alife-and-death struggle to maintain its own existence and preservefor the nation its heritage of liberty. Thus far I have been ableto serve the cause in quiet, unrecognized ways that I need not nowexplain; but I am one who must obey orders, and I wish to do so,for my heart is in the work. I am no better than other men whoare risking all. Mamma knows this in a way, but she does not fullycomprehend it. Fortunately she is not one of those who take veryanxious thought for the morrow, and you know I am inclined to letthings go on quietly as long as they will. Thus far I have merelygone to an office as I did before the war, or else have been absenton trips that were apparently civilian in character, and it hasbeen essential that I should have as little distraction of mindas possible. I have lived long in hope that some decisive victorymight occur; but the future grows darker, instead of lighter, andthe struggle, instead of culminating speedily, promises to becomemore deadly and to be prolonged. There is but one way out ofit for me, and that is through the final triumph of the old flag.Therefore, what a day will bring forth God only knows. There havebeen times when I wished to tell you something of this, but thereseemed little opportunity. As you said, a good many were coming andgoing, you seemed happy and preoccupied, and I got into the habitof reasoning, 'Every day that passes without a thought of troubleis just so much gained; and it may be unnecessary to cloud her lifewith fear and anxiety;' yet perhaps it would be mistaken kindnessto let trouble come suddenly, like an unexpected blow. I confess,however, that I have had a little natural longing to be more to myonly child than I apparently was, but each day brought its increasingpress of work and responsibility, its perplexing and far-reachingquestions. Thus time has passed, and I said, 'Let her be alight-hearted girl as long as she can.'"

  "O papa, what a blind, heartless fool I've been!"

  "No, my dear, only young and thoughtless, like thousands ofothers. It so happened that nothing occurred to awaken you. Oneday of your old life begat another. That so slight a thing shouldmake you think, and desire to be different, promises much to me,for if your nature had been shallow and commonplace, you wouldn'thave been much disturbed. If you have the spirit your words indicateto-night, it will be better for you to face life in the height anddepth of its reality, trusting in God and your own womanhood forstrength to meet whatever comes. Those who live on this higherplane have deeper sorrows, but also far richer joys, than those whoexist from hand to mouth, as it were, in the immediate and materialpresent. What's more, they cease to be plebeian in the meaner senseof the word, and achieve at one step a higher caste. They have brokenthe conventional type, and all the possibilities of developmentopen at once. You are still a young, inexperienced girl, and havedone little in life except learn your lessons and amuse yourself,yet in your dissatisfaction and aspiration you are almost infinitelyremoved from what you were yesterday, for you have attained thepower to grow and develop."

  "You are too philosophical for me. How shall I grow or develop?"

  "I scarcely know."

  "What definite thing shall I do to-morrow?"

  "Do what the plant does. Receive the influence that tends to quickenyour best impulses and purposes; follow your awakened consciencenaturally. Do what seems to you womanly, right, noble in little thingsor in great things, should there be opportunity. Did Shakespeare,as a child, propose to write the plays which have made him chiefamong men? He merely yielded to the impulse when it came. The lawholds good down to you, my little girl. You have an impulse whichis akin to that of genius. Instead of continuing your old indolent,strolling gait on the dead level of life, you have left the beatentrack and faced the mountain of achievement. Every resolute stepforward takes you higher, even though it be but an inch; yet Icannot see the path by which you will climb, or tell you the heightyou may gain. The main thing is the purpose to ascend. For ihosebent on noble achievement there is always a path. God only knowsto what it may bring you. One step leads to another, and you willbe guided better by the instincts and laws of your own nature thanif I tried to lead you step by step. The best I can do is to giveyou a little counsel, and a helping hand now and then, as theoccasion requires."

  "Now in truth, papa, do not all your fine words signify about whatyou and mamma used to say years ago,--'You must be a good littlegirl, and then you will be happy'? It seems to me that many goodpeople are conventionality itself."

  "Many are, and if they ARE good, it is a fortunate phase ofconventionality. For instance, I know of a man who by the law ofheredity and the force of circumstances has scarcely a bad habitor trait, and has many good ones. He meets the duties of life inan ordinary, satisfactory way, and with little effort on his part Iknow of another man who externally presents nearly the same aspectto society, who is quiet and unobtrusive in his daily life, andyet he is fighting hereditary taint and habit with a daily heroism,such as no soldier in the war can surpass. He is not conventional,although he appears to be so. He is a knight who is not afraid toface demons. Genuine strength and originality of character do notconsist in saying or doing things in an unusual way. Voluntaryeccentrics are even worse than the imitators of some model or thecareless souls which take their coloring from chance surroundings.Conventionality ceases when a human being begins the resolutedevelopment of his own natural law of growth to the utmost extent.This is true because nature in her higher work is not stereotyped.I will now be as definite as you can desire. You, for instance,Marian Vosburgh, are as yet, even to yourself, an unknown quantity.You scarcely know what you are, much less what you may become. Thisconversation, and the feeling which led to it, prove this. Thereare traits and possibilities in your nature due to ancestors ofwhom you have not even heard. These combine with your own individualendowments by nature to make you a separate and distinct being, andyou grow more separate and distinct by developing nature's gifts,traits, powers,--in brief, that which is essentially your own. Thusnature becomes your ally and sees to it with absolute certainty thatyou are not like other people. Following this principle of actionyou cannot know, nor can any one know, to just what you may attain.All true growth is from within, outward. In the tree, natural lawprevents distortion or exaggeration of one part over another. Inyour case reason, conscience, good taste, must supervise and directnatural impulses. Thus following nature you become natural, andcease to be conventional. If you don't do this you will be eitherconventional or queer. Do you understand me?"

  "I think I begin to. Let me see if I do. Let me apply your words toone definite problem,--How can I be more helpful and companionableto you?"

  "Why, Marian, do you not see how infinitely more to me you arealready, although scarcely beyond the wish to be different fromwhat you were? I have talked to you as a man talks to a woman in thedearest and most unselfish relation of life. There is one thing,however, you never can know, and that is a father's love for adaughter: it is essentially a man's love and a man's experience. Iam sure it is very different from the affection I should have fora son, did I possess one. Ever since you were a baby the phrase,'my little girl,' has meant more than you can ever know; and nowwhen you come voluntarily to my side in genuine sympathy, and seekto enter INTELLIGENTLY into that which makes my life, you changeeverything for the better, precisely as that which was in cold,gray shadow before is changed by sunlight. You add just so much byyour young, fresh, womanly life to my life, and it is all the morewelcome because it is womanly and different from mine. You ceaseto be a child, a dependant to be provided for, and become a friend,an inspiration, a confidante. These relations may count little toheavy, stolid, selfish men, to whom eating, drinking, excitement,and money-makin
g are the chief considerations, but to men of mindand ideals, especially to a man who has devoted, his heart, brain,and life to a cause upon which the future of a nation depends, theyare pre-eminent. You see I am a German at heart, and must have myworld of thought and imagination, as well as the world in which menlook at me with cold, hard, and even hostile eyes. Thus far thisideal world has been peopled chiefly by the shadows of those whohave lived in the past or by the characters of the great creatorsin poetry. Now if my blue-eyed daughter can prove to me that shehas too much heart and brain to be an ordinary society-girl likehalf a million of others, and will share my interest in the greatthoughts and achievements of the past and the greater questionsof to-day,--if she can prove that when I have time I may enjoy atryst with her in regions far remote from shallow, coarse, commonplaceminds,--is not my whole life enriched? We can read some of myfavorite authors together and trace their influence on the thoughtof the world. We can take up history and see how to-day's struggleis the result of the past. I think I could soon give you anintelligent idea of the questions of the time, for which men arehourly dying. The line of battle stretches across the continent,and so many are engaged that every few moments a man, and too oftena woman from heart-break, dies that the beloved cause may triumph.Southern girls and women, as a rule, are far more awake to the eventsof the time than their sisters in the North. Such an influence onthe struggle can scarcely be over-estimated. They create a publicsentiment that drives even the cowardly into the ranks, and theirwords and enthusiasm incite brave young men to even chivalric courage.It is true that there are very many like them in the North, butthere are also very many who restrain the men over whom they haveinfluence,--who are indifferent, as you have been, or in sympathywith the South,--or who, as is true in most instances, do not yetsee the necessity for self-sacrifice. We have not truly felt thewar yet, but it will sooner or later come home to every one who hasa heart. I have been in the South, and have studied the spirit ofthe people. They are just as sincere and conscientious as we are,and more in earnest as yet. Christian love and faith, there, lookto Heaven for sanction with absolute sincerity, and mothers sendtheir sons, girls their lovers, and wives their husbands, to dieif need be. For the political conspirators who have thought firstand always of their ambition I have only detestation, but for thepeople of the South--for the man I may meet in the ranks and killif I can--I have profound respect. I should know he was wrong, Ishould be equally sure that he believed himself right.

  "Look at the clock, my dear, and see how long I have talked toyou. Can you now doubt that you will be companionable to me? Mendown town think I am hard as a rock, but your touch of sympathyhas been as potent as the stroke of Moses' rod. You have had aninundation of words, and the future is rosy to me with hope becauseyou are not asleep."

  "Have I shown lack of interest, papa?"

  "No, Marian, your intent eyes have been eloquent with feeling.Therefore I have spoken so long and fully. You have, as it were,drawn the words from me. You have made this outpouring of my heartseem as natural as breathing, for when you look as you do to-night,I can almost think aloud to you. You have a sympathetic face, mychild, and when expressing intelligent sympathy it grows beautiful.It was only pretty before. Prettiness is merely a thing of outlineand color; beauty comes from the soul."

  She came and stood at his side, resting her arm lightly on hisshoulder.

  "Papa," she said, "your words are a revelation to me. Your worldis indeed a new one, and a better one than mine. But I must ceaseto be a girl, and become a woman, to enter it."

  "You need not be less happy; you do not loset anything. A pictureis ever finer for shadows and depth of perspective. You can't getanything very fine, in either art or life, from mere bright surfaceglare."

  "I can't go back to that any more; something in my very soul tellsme that I cannot; and your loneliness and danger would render eventhe wish to do so base. No, I feel now that I would rather bea woman, even though it involves a crown of thorns, than to be ashallow creature that my own heart would despise. I may never beeither wise or deep, but I shall be to you all I can."

  "You do very much for me in those words alone, my darling. AsI said before, no one can tell what you may become if you developyour own nature naturally."

  CHAPTER IV.

  WOMAN'S CHIEF RIGHT.