Golden Fleece: The American Adventures of a Fortune Hunting Earl
- ■ r^ • ^.• Ui: . !. I ..--f.- »; J 'r/ •<■ ■/// ' / ''"II. ■ i-c r . . . / GOLDEN FLEECE •' ^ -." The American Adventures of a .^. Fortune Hunting Earl By David Graham Phillips ALDI AMER ICAN Illustrations by Harrison Fisher r McClure, Phillips 4" C'o. 190S THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY 682660 ASTOR, LCNOX AND TiLOftN fOUNOATIQNi R 1816 L COFTBieHT, 1903, BT McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. Copyright, 1903,  •• * • • •• • 1  grand stairway rapidly Frontispiece A strongly-built, fairish young man of perhaps six and thirty 4 "My name is Longview ** 16 Barney half a dozen chairs away glowering at Long- view 26 He liked the very first gliropfi!? of her - •• ,*, ...,,. 46 " As if we were a pair of new cbiinpan;5ees in a ioO'" 70 "Just my rotten luck," he m^utter^d '. "' - . .' . . 90 ■ •■'''* .' ■' ' , ' ■> "Then you're not a Buddhist or a Spiritualist:?" . 130 "Forgive me — ^it was all my fault — ^yet not mine — good-bye — " l64 Cosimo, Prince di Rontivogli 200 €i I can imagine many extenuating circumstances " . 224 [v] it ILLUSTRATIONS rU give the guinea one more chance". Facing page . 230 Found Nelly alone in the front parlour . . . .258 a You may ask, sir, but 1*11 not answer** . . . .284 As soon as her father and mother were out of the way 296 ^'I take to it like a duck to water" 314 O • » » • • • « • ' • •« <• • •  • ' • • « • k •« [vi] GOLDEN FLEECE Two hours after Surrey's letter came his sister Gwen rode over to Beauvais House eager to tell Evelyn the news of his luck in America. It was almost five o'clock in the beautiful autumn after- noon, and she found Evelyn at tea on the porch that looks out upon the Italian garden. " It's settled," she said. " They're to be married on the 6th of November — only two months! And George says she is sweet and lovely — not at all like the Americans we know. And her dot is a million and a half — ^he calls it seven and a half, but he means in their money, which sounds bigger, but counts smaller, than ours. She'll get twice that when her father dies — and he's nearly seventy and not strong. And I'm so glad and so sorry that I don't know whether to laugh or cry." " What's her name? You told me, but I forget." Evelyn's hand was trembling just a little as she gave Gwendoline a cup of tea. She spoke slowly, in the [1] GOLDEN FLEECE clear, monotonous, but agreeable, English tone. Her voice, always calm, seemed stagnant. " Dowie — ^Helen Dowie. He sent me a proof of a photograph they had taken together." Gwendoline took a letter from the bosom of her shirtwaist, drew from it the proof, and handed it to Evelyn. She took it, lowered her head so that Gwen could not see her face. She looked long and intently, and, if Gwen had seen, she would have wondered how eyes could . be so full of tears without shedding a single one. " Quite aristocratic,'* she said at last, giving it back. " How much style those American girls have ! *' "But don't you think her rather pert-looking?'^ asked Gwen discontentedly. " She looks ill-tempered, too. I'm sure we shan't get on. Mother and I are making ready to go to Houghton Abbey at once. We'd have a jolly uncomfortable time of it, I wager, if she were to catch us at the Hall." Evelyn was gazing into her tea and stirring it ab- sently. " It seems a shame to have an American nobody come in," continued Gwen, " and throw us out neck and crop from a house where we've always lived. Now, [2] CHAPTER ONE if it were an English girl of our own class, — ^you, Evelyn, — ^we shouldn't mind — at least, not so much, or in the same way." Evelyn paled, and her lips contracted slightly. " But it's of no use to think of that. We need her money — everything is in tatters at the Hall, and poor George is down to the last seventy pounds." Gwen laughed. *' Do you remember what a time there was getting the five hundred for his expenses out of Aunt Betty? We've got to cable him another five hundred — ^he can't begin on her money the very minute he's married, can he now? " " Arthur must go over," said Evelyn suddenly, with conviction. " We're worse off than you are. Old Bagley was down yesterday. He and Arthur were shut in for two hours, and Arthur's been off his feed —horribly— ever since." Gwen, two years younger than Evelyn, could not conceal her feelings so well. She winced, and a look of terror came into her big blue eyes. ** We can't hold on another year," continued Eve- lyn. " And it's quite impossible for Arthur to take Miss Cadbrough. She's too hideous, and too hide- ously, hopelessly middle-class. She could never, never [3] GOLDEN FLEECE learn not to speak to ladies and gentlemen as if she were a servant.'* Evelyn pretended not to notice Gwen's unhappi- ness. She glanced in at the great drawing room, with splendid furniture, and ceiling wonderfully carved by a seventeenth-century Italian. Then her eyes wan- dered away to the left, to the majestic wing showing there, then on to the brilliant gardens, the fountains and statuary. Her expression became bitter. " And we've been undisturbed for nine centuries ! *' she ex- claimed. Gwen, in spite of her inward tumult, remembered that this boast was rather " tall,'' that the Beauvais family had, in fact, been changed radically several times, and only the name had been undisturbed. Her mind paused with a certain satisfaction on these little genealogical discrepancies, because, though she was the sister and the daughter of a duke, she was the granddaughter of a brewer, who had begun life as an apprentice. ** George wishes Arthur to go over to the wedding," she said reluctantly, after a silence. A servant appeared — ^his gaudy livery was almost shabby, but his manners were most dignified, and his [4] s. 'UBLl- : CHAPTER ONE hair was impressively — or ridiculously, if you please — ^plastered and streaked with powder. " His Lord- ship says he will have tea in his study, Your Lady- ship." " Please tell him that Lady Gwendoline Ridley is here," said Evelyn. A few minutes later, a strongly built, fairish young man of perhaps six and thirty came lounging out upon the porch. He had pleasing, but far from handsome, features — a chin that was too long, and hung weakly, instead of strongly, forward ; uncertain blue eyes, with a network of the wrinkles of dissipation at the comers. A large, frameless, stringless monocle was wedged, ap- parently permanently, into the angle of his right eye- socket. He was dressed in shabby light grey flannels, and he looked as seedy as his clothes. He shook hands with Gwen. " Thanks. No tea. I'm taking whis- key," he said to Evelyn. And he seated himself sprawlingly. The servant brought his whiskey and a note for his sister. " Is the man waiting for an answer? " she asked, when she had read it. " Yes, your ladyship." She left her brother and Gwen alone. [5] GOLDEN FLEECE *' Greorge is marrying the heiress,*' Gwen began. " So he wrote me," replied Frothingham sullenly. " Evelyn says you must go and do likewise." He scowled. " But I'd rather stay here and marry you." ** Don't be silly," said Gwen, with a shrug of her athletic yoimg shoulders. " You've got nothing. I've got nothing. So — ^you must do your duty." "Duty go hang!" said Frothingham fretfully. *' Sometimes, do you know, Gwen, I come jolly near envying those beggars that live in cottages, and keep shops, and all that." " Now, you're slopping, Arthur. You know you don't envy them ; no more do I." " Did Eve tell you old Bagley was down? " " Yes. Ghajstly— wasn't it? " Frothingham sighed. ** I shouldn't be so cut up if I'd had the fun of spending it." " You did spend a lot of it." She was thinking what a great figure the young Earl had cut in her girlhood days ; she had always listened greedily when her brother, with admiring envy, or Evelyn, with sis- terly pride, talked of his exploits on- the turf, and let us say elsewhere, to shorten a long story. [6] CHAPTER ONE ** Only a few thousands that weren't worth the keep- ing," said Frothingham, a faint gleam of satisfaction appearing in the eye that was shielded by the monocle — ^he liked to remember his " career,'' and he liked the women to remind him of it in this flattering way. " All I really got was the bill for the governor's larks, and his governor's, and his governor's governor's. It's what I call rotten unfair — ^jolly rotten unfair. The fiddling for them — ^the bill for me." ** Buck up, Artie," said Gwen, stroking him gently with her riding whip. " See how Gteorgie has faced it. And perhaps you won't draw such a bad one, either. She couldn't be worse than Cadbrough." ** But I want you^ Gwen. I'm used to you, you know — and that's everything in a wife. I hate sur- prises, and these American beggars are full of 'em." Evelyn came back. " Go away somewhere, both of you," she said. " Charley Sidney's just driving up. I wish to talk with him about the States." Gwen paled and flushed ; Frothingham grunted and scowled. They rose, made a short cut across the gar- den, and were hidden by the left wing of the house. Almost immediately the servant announced " Mr. Sid- [7] GOLDEN FLEECE ney,'' and stood deferentially aside for a tall, thin American, elaborately Anglicised in look and dress, and, as it soon appeared, in accent. He had a narrow, vain face, browned and wrinkled by hard riding in hard weather in those early morning hours that should be spent in bed if one has lingered in the billiard-room with the drinks and smokes until past midnight. " Ah, Lady Evelyn ! " He shook hands with her, and bowed and smirked. " I'm positively perishing for tea." You mean whiskey? " Ah, yes — ^to be sure. I see there is whiskey. 99 Evelyn's manner, which had been frank and equal before her friend and her brother, had frozen for Sid- ney into a shy stiffness not without a faint suggestion of superior addressing inferior. She had tiiown Sid- ney for the ten years he had lived within two miles of Beauvais House, but — well, he wasn't " one of us " exactly ; he had a way of bowing and of pro- nouncing titles that discouraged equality. The con- versation dragged in dreary, rural fashion through gossip of people, dogs, and horses, until she said: " Have you heard the news of Surrey? " ** No — is His Grace coming home? " [8] CHAPTER ONE " He's marrying — a Miss Dowie, of New York. Do you know her? " ** I've heard of her. You know, I've not been there longer than a week at a time for fifteen years." Sid- ney put on his extreme imitation-EngHsh air. " I loathe the place. They don't know how to treat a gentleman. And the lower classes ! " He lifted his eyebrows and shook his head. He was at his most en- ergetic when, in running down his native land to his English acquaintances, he reached the American " lower classes." Evelyn concealed the satire which longed to express itself in her face. She despised Sidney and all the Anglicised Americans; and, behind their backs, she and her friends derided them — perhaps to repay them- selves for the humiliation of accepting hospitalities and even more concrete favours from " those Amer- ican bounders." The story among Sidney's upper- class English tolerators was that his father had kept a low public house in New York or San Francisco, or ** somewhere over there " — ^they were as ignorant of the geography of the United States as they were of the geography of Patagonia. ** So he's to marry Dowie's daughter? " continued H [9] GOLDEN FLEECE Sidney. " He was brakeman on a railway thirty years ago.'* (( How you Americans do jump about ! " said Evelyn, forgetting that Sidney prided himself on no longer being an American. " He must be clever." ** A clever rascal, probably," replied Sidney spite- fully. " Over here he'd have been put into jail for what they honour him for over there." •• " We've many of the same sort, no doubt," said Evelyn, thinking it tactful to hold aloof when a son was abusing his mother. " Yes, but usually they're gentlemen and do things in a gentlemanly way." " Mr. Dowie is rich? " ** Just now he is — ^they say." Sidney had the rich man's weakness for denying, or at least casting doubt upon, the riches of other rich men. He knew that his was the finest and most valuable wealth in the world, and he would have liked to believe that it was the only wealth in the world. " I trust the Duke has looked sharp to the settlements." " Why? " asked Evelyn, preparing to make mental notes. " He may never get anything but what's settled on [10] V CHAPTER ONE him and her now. Dowie is more or less of a specu- lator and may go broke. But that's not the only dan- ger in marrying an American heiress. You see, Lady Evelyn, over there they have the vulgarest possible notions of rank and titles. And often, if there isn't a cash settlement when they * buy the title,' as they describe it, they refuse to give up anything. Many of their rich men have the craze for founding colleges and asylums and libraries. They reason that they've got the title in the family, therefore it isn't necessary to pay for it; and so they leave all their money to build themselves a monument. Dishonourable, isn't it? But they stop at nothing." ** Then," said Evelyn, " an American heiress isn't an heiress so long as her father is alive? " ^* Exactly. It's misleading to call her an heiress. She simply has hopes." " I hope Surrey knows this." ** If he doesn't it's his own fault. I cautioned His Grace before he sailed." " That reminds me, Mr. Sidney. Arthur may be going over to the wedding. Could you ^" " I'd be delighted," interrupted Sidney. " Any- thing I could do for Lord Frothingham it would be [11] GOLDEN FLEECE a pleasure to do. I can give him some useful letters, I think. WiU he travel? " " Possibly — I don't know. He has no plans as yet." *' I shall give him — if he will do me the honour of accepting them — only a few letters. The wisest plan is a proper introduction to the very best people. Then all doors will be open to him." " The Americans are hospitable to everyone, are they not? '' " Not to younger sons any more. And not to un- accredited foreigners. They've had their fingers jolly well burned. I knew of one case — a girl — quite a ladylike person, though of a new family from the in- terior. She married a French valet masquerading as a duke." " Poor creature," said Evelyn, smiling with amused contempt. " Yes, and another girl married — or thought she married — a Grerman royal prince. And when she got to Germany she found that she'd bought a place as mere morganatic wife, with no standing at all." " Fancy ! What a facer ! " **And she never got her money back — not a [12] CHAPTER ONE penny," continued Sidney. " But, like you, I don't sympathise with these upstart people who try to thrust themselves out of their proper station. The old families over there — and there are a few gentle- folk. Lady Evelyn, though they're almost lost in the crowd of noisy upstarts — ^never have such humiliating experiences in their international marriages." " Naturally not," said Evelyn. " But, as I was about to say, a foreigner with a genuine title, the head of a house of gentle people, is received with open arms. Lord Frothingham would be overwhelmed with hospitalities. My friends would see to that." After a few minutes, without any impoliteness on Evelyn's part, Sidney began to feel that it was time for him to go. As he disappeared Gwen and Arthur came stroUing back. *' What a noisome creature Sidney is ! " said Evelyn. " But he'll be of use to you, Arthur." ** Did he talk about the old families of America and the gentle birth? " asked Gwen. Her eyes were curi- ously bright, and her manner and tone were agi- tated. " All that again." [13] GOLDEN FLEECE learn not to speak to ladies and gentlemen as if she were a servant." Evelyn pretended not to notice Gwen's unhappi- ness. She glanced in at the great drawing room, with splendid furniture, and ceiling wonderfully carved by a seventeenth-century Italian. Then her eyes wan- dered away to the left, to the majestic wing showing there, then on to the brilliant gardens, the fountains and statuary. Her expression became bitter. " And we've been undisturbed for nine centuries ! " she ex- claimed. Gwen, in spite of her inward tumult, remembered that this boast was rather " tall," that the Beauvais family had, in fact, been changed radically several times, and only the name had been undisturbed. Her mind paused with a certain satisfaction on these little genealogical discrepancies, because, though she was the sister and the daughter of a duke, she was the granddaughter of a brewer, who had begun life as an apprentice. " George wishes Arthur to go over to the wedding," she said reluctantly, after a silence. A servant appeared — ^his gaudy livery was almost shabby, but his manners were most dignified, and his [4] GOLDEN FLEECE learn not to speak to ladies and gentlemen as if she were a servant." Evelyn pretended not to notice Gwen's unhappi- ness. She glanced in at the great drawing room, with splendid furniture, and ceiling wonderfully carved by a seventeenth-century Italian. Then her eyes wan- dered away to the left, to the majestic wing showing there, then on to the briUiant gardens, the fountains and statuary. Her expression became bitter. " And we've been undisturbed for nine centuries ! " she ex- claimed. Gwen, in spite of her inward tumult, remembered that this boast was rather " tall," that the Beauvais family had, in fact, been changed radically several times, and only the name had been undisturbed. Her mind paused with a certain satisfaction on these little genealogical discrepancies, because, though she was the sister and the daughter of a duke, she was the granddaughter of a brewer, who had begun life as an apprentice. " George wishes Arthur to go over to the wedding," she said reluctantly, after a silence. A servant appeared — ^his gaudy livery was almost shabby, but his manners were most dignified, and his [4] •w=^ GOLDEN FLEECE learn not to speak to ladies and gentlemen as if she were a servant." Evelyn pretended not to notice Gwen's unhappi- ness. She glanced in at the great drawing room, with splendid furniture, and ceiling wonderfully carved by a seventeenth-century Italian. Then her eyes wan- dered away to the left, to the majestic wing showing there, then on to the brilliant gardens, the fountains and statuary. Her expression became bitter. '* And we've been undisturbed for nine centuries ! " she ex- claimed. Gwen, in spite of her inward tumult, remembered that this boast was rather *' tall,'* that the Beauvais family had, in fact, been changed radically several times, and only the name had been undisturbed. Her mind paused with a certain satisfaction on these little genealogical discrepancies, because, though she was the sister and the daughter of a duke, she was the granddaughter of a brewer, who had begun life as an apprentice. " Greorge wishes Arthur to go over to the wedding," she said reluctantly, after a silence. A servant appeared — ^his gaudy livery was almost shabby, but his manners were most dignified, and his [4] ^ GOLDEN FLEECE " She is with me," said Longview, delighted to be convinced that he was remembered, and remembered distinctly — ^and by a Gordon-Beauvais ! " It would give me great pleasure to present you." As they went down the deck the little man peered at everyone with a nervous little smile — ^^ as if he were saying, * Don't kick me, please. I mean well,' " thought Frothingham. In fact, back of the peering and the smile was the desire that all should see that he had captured the Earl. They entered the library and advanced toward a young woman swathed in a huge blue cape, her eyes idly upon a book. " Honoria, my dear," said Longview, as uneasy as if he were speaking to the young woman without hav- ing been introduced to her, " you remember Lord Frothingham? " Honoria slowly raised her eyelids from a pair of melancholy, indifferent grey eyes, and slightly in- clined her head. The men seated themselves on either side of her ; Longview rattled on in his almost hyster- ical way for a few minutes, then fluttered away. Honoria and Frothingham sat silent, she looking at her book, he looking at her. " You are going home? " he said when he saw that [18] CHAPTER TWO she would not " lead," no matter how long the silence might continue. " No," she replied. " We are English — ^at least, my father is." "And you?" She just moved her shoulders, and there was the faintest sneer at the comer of her decidedly pretty mouth. " I don't know — what does it matter about a woman? Tve lived in England and France since I was five, except a year and a half in America. Father detests the country and the people. He was natural- ised in England last year. I believe he decided that his social position, won through his being an Amer- ican, was sufficiently established to make it safe for him to change." Frothingham smiled. As he was used to the freest and frankest criticisms of parents and other near rel- atives by fellow-countrymen of his own class, it did not impress him as unfilial that a daughter should thus deride a father. Honoria became silent, and appar- ently oblivious of his presence. " IVe never been to America," he said, hoping to resurrect the dead conversation. **rm looking for- ward to it with • much pleasure. We have many [19] GOLDEN FLEECE Americans in our neighbourhood — such jolly people." " I know few Americans." Honoria looked disdain- ful. " And they are like us, the most of them — ex- patriated. They say their country is a good place to make money in, but a horrible place to live— crude and ill-mannered, full of vulgar people that push in everywhere, and the servants fancying they're ladies and gentlemen." " I hope it's no worse to live in than England," said Frothingham. " You know we're always flying to the Continent to escape the climate and the dul- ness. And our middle classes are very uppish nowa- days, don't you think? " " I detest England." Honoria put the first em- phasis into her voice, but it was slight. " Beastly hole, except for a few weeks in the spring, ain't it? If it wasn't for the hunting it would be deserted." He saw her cold, regular features light up. " I love hunting," she said. " It's the one thing that can make me forget myself, and everjrthing except just being alive and well." Then her face shadowed and chilled, and she looked at her book so signifi- [20] CHAPTER TWO cantly that Frothingham was forced to rise and leave. At luncheon the man in the chair next him — ^Bar- ney, who had told him in the first half -hour of their acquaintance all about his big dry-goods shop in Chicago — said : " I saw you talking to Longview on deck. Is he a friend of yours? " "An acquaintance,'' replied Frothingham. He rather liked Barney because he was shrewd and hu- mourous, and treated him in an offhand fashion that was amusing in a " tradesman " — from Amer- ica. He's a low-down snob," said Barney, encouraged by Frothingham's disclaimer. " One of those fellows that think their own country ain't good enough for them. I was glad when he got himself naturalised over in your country. You're welcome to him. What kind of people does he herd with in England? " " We like him very well, I believe. He seems to be an agreeable chap." " I suppose he kowtows and blows himself, and so they let him hang onto the tailboard — ^he ain't heavy and don't take up much room. His grandfather stole with both hands, and put it in real estate. Then his [gi] GOLDEN FLEECE father made qiiite a bunch in the early railroad days. And now this fellow's posing as an aristocrat. If he wasn't rich who'd notice him? " ** Then he's rich? " inquired Frothingham. ** Yes and no," replied Barney, his rich man's jeal- ousy visibly roused. " There was a big family of them. He's got maybe a couple of millions or three. That ain't much in these days. You heard about his knockout? " " Has he lost part of his money? " " I thought everybody knew that story — it was in all the papers. No, it wasn't money — ^worse than that, from his point of view. His daughter — she's with him on the ship — fell in love with the second son of some marquis or other. But he didn't have any- thing, and I believe you titled people ain't allowed to work. Longview was red-headed — ^wouldn't give his daughter a cent unless she married a big title. And then the young man's older brother died." " Was it the Marquis of Dullingford? " ** Yes, that was it. And right on top of it his elder brother's two sons were drowned, and he came into the title and estates. And what does he do but up and marry an English girl that he'd been struck on all the [22] CHAPTER TWO time, but couldn't marry because he was so poor. Longview nearly went crazy at missing the chance. And his daughter — it must have made her mighty sour to find out that the fellow had been only pretend- ing to be in love with her, and was really out for her cash, and didn't care a rap about her. A low pup, wasn't he? " Frothingham began to detest Barney — ^^ an im- pudent, malicious beggar," he thought. He gave him his monocle's coldest stare. ** No," went on Barney, unchilled, " Longview's not so rich. I could buy him twice over, and not take a cent of it out of my business. But I want to see any scamp, foreign or domestic, hanging round my daughter for her money. She'll get nary a red till I shuffle off. And she'll get mighty little then if she don't marry to suit me. That's our way." Frothingham changed his mind about dropping Barney. He had begun to modify the low view of him as soon as he heard that he had a daughter, and ** could buy Longview twice over," and leave the big business — *^ seventy stores under one roof " — intact. ** Miss Barney may be worth looking at," he reflected. **And her papa might relent about settlements. I [23] GOLDEN FLEECE suspect he isn't above loving a lord — he's too good an American for that." What Barney had told gave him the key to Hon- oria. He felt genuine sympathy for her — their sor- rows were similar. " Poor creature," he thought. " No wonder she's so down in the mouth." After luncheon he met her father on deck, and did not re- pel his advances. " But," he said to himself, " it don't do to be too friendly with these beggars. It's like shaking hands with your tailor. He don't think you've pulled him up, but that you've let yourself down." To the " beggar " he said : " I looked all round the dining room, but I didn't see you and your daughter." Longview smiled proudly. " We have our meals in our sitting room," he replied. " We dislike being stared at, and mixed in with a crowd of eating people. We like privacy. We'd be glad to have you join us." Frothingham's first impulse was to accept. It would cost him nothing — probably he'd get his wine and mineral water and cigars free. And he'd have a rare chance at Honoria. But her face came before his mind. He decided that he would do well to wait until [24] CHAPTER TWO he could ledm whether she was really part of the in- viting " we." Although he was not welcomed, but merely toler- ated, he seated himself on the extension of a vacant chair beside her and talked — ^hunting, which, as she had shown him, was her weakness. She was soon inter- ested, and she unbent toward him so far that, when her father came and renewed his invitation, she joined in it. Just as Frothingham accepted he saw Barney half a dozen chairs away glowering at Longview. ** I'll offend Barney, no doubt," he said to himself. ** But I'll risk it. I must play the cards I have in my hand." Barney came into the smoke-room late in the even- ing as he was sitting there, having a final whiskey and water before going to bed. " Won't you have a high ball or something? " he asked, making room for Barney's broad form. " No, I never touch liquor. Don't allow it in my house. It's no good — no business man ought to touch it." " I suppose not," replied Frothingham, feeling that here was new evidence of the essentially degrading na- ture of business. [26] GOLDEN FLEECE ** I missed you at dinner," Barney went on. ** The Longviews invited me to feed with them," replied Frothingham carelessly. " They eat in their sitting room. Sorry to leave you, but the service is much better." Barney's maxillary muscles expanded and con- tracted with anger. He half snorted, half laughed. " You might know," he said, " that that shark-faced snob would invent a new way of making himself ridic- ulous. So, the general dining room ain't good enough for him, eh.'^ He is a swell, ain't he? I should think he and his — no, leave the young lady out of it — I should think he'd be ashamed to fish for you so openly." Barney's tone softened apologetically, greatly to Frothingham's surprise, as he added : " I don't blame you, Mr. Frothingham. I understand how it is with you titled people in your country. I don't blame anybody for walking round on human necks if their owners '11 allow it. But we feel differ- ently about all those kind of things." Frothingham smiled conciliatingly. " Oh, I say, now ! I don't see anything to make a row over. The beggar's a right to eat where he pleases, hasn't he ? " ** Of course he has, and to stick his tongue out at [26] I Barney half a dozen chairg away glowering at Longiiew Jill. I ■ I. • ASTOft, LFNOX Lii? CHAPTER TWO all the rest of us, as he does it. You don't understand. It ain't what he does. It's why he does it. We Amer- icans can't stand those kind of airs." " It seems very mysterious to me," confessed Froth- ingham. " I admit I don't understand your country." " Oh, you're all right," reassured Barney, slapping Frothingham's leg cordially. " I never thought I'd like one of you titled fellows. I despised you all for a useless set of nobodies and nincompoops. And when- ever my womenfolks got to talking about that kind of thing I always sat on 'em, and sat hard — I'm a hard sitter when I want to be. But I like you, young man. You're more an American than an Englishman, just as Longview's more English than American — ^he ain't American at all. You talk like an American. You behave like an American. And when you've been in America long enough to wear your clothes out, and get some that fit you, you'll look like an American." " Thanks," said Frothingham drily. "You don't like it?" Barney laughed good-hu- mouredly. " Well, I don't blame you. You're judg- ing America by Longview and me. That ain't fair. I'm a rough one — never had a chance — ^first thing I [27] GOLDEN FLEECE remember is carrying the swill buckets out to feed the hogs before sun-up when I still wore slips. But I mean right. And I've got a son and a daughter that are a real gentleman and a real lady, and don't you forget it." " Oh, you're all right," said Frothingham, slap- ping Barney on the leg — ^Frothingham was a senti- mental dog where his pocket and his pleasure were not concerned, and he liked Barney's look as he spoke of himself and the hogs, and his children. " You don't want to go back to that little old island of yours," continued Barnay, " without seeing Chi- cago.. There*8 a town ! And I'll give you the time of your life. I want you to meet my family." " I hope I shall," said Frothingham. He was smil- ing to himself — evidently Barney wasn't above a weakness for a lord. " It was a good stroke any way you look at it, my going with the Longviews," he re- flected. " It's made Barney jealous, and he thinks more of me than ever." He divided his time unevenly between the Long- views and Barney. He wished to introduce Barney to them, but Longview hysterically refused. " It's all right for you, Frothingham," he explained. " But we [28] CHAPTER TWO can't afford to do it. How'd you like to be introduced to middle-class English? " " Oh, I shouldn't mind. I'd just forget 'em the next time we met. The beggars 'd expect it and wouldn't think of annoying me. " " Precisely — precisely," said Longview. " But our — that is — the American middle-classes are differ- ent. They don't understand differences of social posi- tion, or pretend not to. If this Barney person were presented to us, he probably wouldn't take the cut when we met again, but would come straight up to us. You've no idea how impudent they are." " But why do you call him middle-class? Ain't he rich? " asked Frothingham. Longview looked at him tragically. " Birth and breeding count with us just as — I mean count in America just as in England." " Gad, they don't coimt in England any more, ex- cept against one. But we can't get it out of our heads that you Americans go in for equality and all that sort of thing." " Not at all. Not at all," Longview protested. ** The lines are the more closely drawn because there are no official lines." [29] GOLDEN FLEECE "But what's the matter with Barney? He seems right enough. I've got uncles that are worse. Grad^ there's one of 'em I could get rich on if I could cage him and show him at a shilling a look." " My dear Frothingham, this Barney keeps a retail shop. Even in New York they draw the line at retail shops." ** It's very mysterious." Frothingham shook his head. " I fear I shall never learn. Why don't they put it all in a book, as we do? Then we could take it at the university instead of Greek." He looked at Honoria. She was giving her plate a scornful smile. Her father looked at her also, and reddened as he noted her expression, and shifted the conversation abruptly to the day's run. Frothingham was becoming interested in Honoria, now that he had assured himself of her eligibility. She was not beau- tiful, not especially distinguished-looking. But she had as little interest in him as in the rest of her surroundings, and that piqued him. Then, too» her figure was graceful and strong; and when her face did light up it showed strength of character, and either what she said or the way she said it created a vivid impression of personality. He soon felt that [80] I CHAPTER TWO she liked him. Her manner toward him was friendlier far than her manner toward her father, her lack of respect for whom was scantily concealed. The night before they landed she and Frothing- ham sat on deck late, her father dozing in a chair at a discreet distance. Both were depressed — the sense that they were once more about to plunge into the whirlpool of life made each sad. Honoria was re- membering the past ; Frothingham was brooding over the future. If he had dared he would have proposed to her. " She'd make a satisfactory wife,'' he said to himself. " She's just enough English to understand me and to make my people like her. She wouldn't get on their nerves. And she doesn't talk through her nose except when she's excited. She's a little too clever — ^but a steady goer, once the harness is on. If I could get her it would be good business, good swift business." ** You're a queer sort," he said to her suddenly. ** Most girls are full of getting married. But I don't believe you give it a thought." ** I sha'n't ever marry," she replied. He laughed. " Oh, I say, that's nonsense. Every girl must marry. You may as well make up your [81] GOLDEN FLEECE mind to it, close your eyes, shut your teeth, and dash in." " You might not think it,'' she said after a pause, " but I am like you English — ^I'm horribly, incurably sentimental. I know it's foreign to my bringing up, but " Her jaw set, and her eyes fixed upon some- thing visible only to her in the blackness beyond the rail. " My bringing up was all wrong and rotten," she went on presently. "I don't know just how or where, but I know it's so. I began to feel it dimly when I visited my aunt in America four years ago. My mother died when I was a baby, and I was trained by my father and governesses — governesses that suited him. My father But I needn't tell ycWf and you probably don't sympathise with me. His one idea in life is social position. It seems to me a contemptible ambition for a man. With women — there's some excuse for it. We're naturally petty. And, so far as I can see it, as the world is made up, if we haven't got that we haven't got anything. We can't have any other ambition — it's the only one open to us. Well, I haven't got even ambition. I want — that is, I wanted " She paused again, resisting the mood that was urg- [32] CHAPTER TWO ing her on to confidence. " By Jove,'' thought Froth- ingham, " it wouldn't be hard for a man to like her." " No matter what it was I wanted," she went on, " I didn't get it — and sha'n't, ever." She turned her face toward him. " You may misunderstand me — may think I am in love and hopelessly disappointed — there's a story of that kind going round. But I'm not in love. I was — but I'm not now." " Do you think one ever gets over it? " he asked ab- sently. She did not answer. " I'm afraid not — at least, not thoroughly," he an- swered himself. There were two faces out there in the blackness into which they were staring, but each was seeing only one. 