All is not gold that glistens : a sketch

Chapter I

‘‘Paint Rock shall be our goal,” was Edythe’s gay cry, and Jack spurring his horse alongside, away they dash at a mad gallop. Mad indeed, it seems over such a road. Slippery rocks worn bare of earth, deep sloughs of mud, then pools of standing water, whose beds are made of sharp three-cornered stones, form a typical North Carolina mountain road. Their horses, however, reared from colthood to such as this, dashed on without a slip or stumble; the few stretches of good road scarcely serving to increase their speed. “’Twas now the bay, and now the black, and now the river with its wrack”, that led the way till Paint Rock rose in sight : an overhanging mass, whose varied color has given rise to a legend that a neighboring tribe of Indians, for some important service, admitted it to membership and decorated it with their war paint. Be that as it may, as the two horses ended their wild run, Edythe’s black showed slightly to the fore. She, all her senses tingling, exclaimed : “ How glorious a run !

and, oil! I am so glad I won; it shows I was right about the two horses.”

“How could mine do himself justice? He is too polite to win when a lady rides against him.”

“ I am glad you put it on your horse and not on yourself. I know you too well to believe that you wouldn’t run straight. The river doesn’t seem to show any such courtesy. There it goes, actually laughing at us, in glee at our defeat.” The noisy roar did seem to soften to a merry murmur at the thought of how unsuccessful, all human efforts to surpass nature, must be.

A few hours later the sound of horses hoofe is heard on the bridge, and Edythe and Jack gallop up to the Warm Springs Hotel. As they alight Mrs. Saxon, her mother, Ned, her brother, with Cissie Clayton, a sprightly looking girl with a piquant face, though not a beauty, await them on the porch.

“Did you get your look into the seven states at last?”

“ Edythe went it one better.”

“Yes; we managed to make it eight. Jack said that South Carolina, Alabama, and West Virginia were all about the same distance, so that we might as well see all three, as any two. The others can easily be seen.”

“Then,” asked Mrs. Saxon, “it repaid you for the rough ride up Roan Mountain and the walk to its summit ?”

“ I should think so I The view was superb in every direction; but what we enjoyed most was, that way off in the north we could just see three or four peaks, which Jack said were the Peaks of Otter. The snow is on them still, and a thunderstorm was going on just below tbeir summits. Oh! it was grand! A thick black cloud, rent here and there by the lightning’s flash, which lit up the three or four white spots rising out of the dark mass into a dazzling radiance. Then in a moment the dense cloud rose, closing round them, the lightning ceased and all was at an end.”

And we descended from the sublime almost to the ridiculous. We had a game of checkers.”

Of checkers ! How did you manage for a board ?”

‘‘ Jack’s domain furnished us with that. We were so high up that we likened ourselves to the old Greek gods on Olympus and divided what we saw. Edythe took North Carolina and, I, Tennessee. Then as the fields of brown alternated so regularly with those of green, she proposed a game of checkers.”

“ What an idea ! ”

“ Well, it was jolly up there moving our pieces about so many miles at a time ; we thought ourselves gods indeed. But I couldn’t play with Jack, for he took all my kings as fast as I could move them.”

“ That was natural,” said Cissie Clayton, mischievously, “ he wants to be your king himself.”

“Nonsense ! I know him too well to make a hero of him, and a true subject ought always to do that.”

“You see Edythe has received all her ideas on that subject from the devotion of the Jacobites, so don’t understand the modern notion of a sovereign who can be coarse and commonplace,” said Jack.

“I hear them o’er the meadows the old church bells achime;

O’er the twilight misty meadows, in the sweet spring-time,”

rang out softly over the river, as the four were quietly rowing up the French Broad. The rapid current, and many rocks strewing its bed, required all the energy that Ned Saxon and Jack Harden, both of them fair oarsmen, could master. Cissie was equally occupied in steering, and to Edythe fell the pleasant occupation of entertaining them with her voice. Turning to the shore at last, they landed at the foot of Lover’s Leap, a mountain that owes its name to one of those numerous tales about an Indian maiden, disappointed in love. It rises sheer two hundred feet from the river. To climb its precipitous side had been Edythe’s intense desire from the moment of her arrival. At last, this, the day before their departure, she had persuaded her mother to allow it, and she and Jack were to scale it from the river, while Ned and Cissie were to ascend by the easier path on the other side, which she disdained. By hard work, availing themselves of every tree, every limb that could aid them, they steadily ascended; Edythe bound to achieve her aim. Though several times it seemed impossible that she should go on, yet skill and perseverance overcame every difficulty. When they stood at last upon the summit, Edythe’s cheeks were flushed, her hair slightly in disorder, was blown about by the wind, while her eyes sparkled with triumph. Well might Jack’s eyes rest for a moment on the picture she presented, before passing to the one that lay unrolled before him. Old Round Top to his right, Roan Mountain looming up in front, mountains on all sides, rearing their grey, green or blue summits of every shape, save where at his feet the little village clusters

THAT GLISTENS.

round the springs, or the river sweeping by, cuts its way through their midst. The sun, magnificent in its growing force, lights them up in brilliant colors, or deepens their dark shadows. The bracing mountain air blows crisp and cool. Silence alone can express their feelings.

At length she breaks it, “ How could that Indian girl have destroyed herself, when such a world lay about her with all its joys. I cannot understand it.’^

And may you never ! but then no one, who ever loved you, could be false to you.”

After a pause, during which the reaction that always follows such a feeling of exaltation, affected her thoughts, Edythe went on, “ I sometimes think so much happiness cannot be good for any one. I fear it cannot last. My

share of sorrow ” when her reflections were broken

in upon by Ned’s gay voice :

“ The longest way round was not the shortest way home this time.”

‘‘How do you know?” asked Cissie. “We haven’t reached there yet.”

“ You saucy minx! You don’t deserve that I should help you down again.”

“ Nobody asked you, sir, she said.”

Jack had drawn apart toward the brow of the hill away from the stream, and stood looking across at the one opposite. A cry from him brought them to his side.

“There’s a forest fire just begun. I’m afraid it may prove a disastrous one.”

Sure enough, there it was. As they watched its rapidly growing proportions, their attention was attracted by a wagon approaching. It was on a road which wound around the hill upon which the fire was. Its occupants could not see it, hidden as it was by a turn of the road. How could they warn them? Their shouts could not be heard ; their handkerchiefs were unnoticed ; all attempts proved vain. Meanwhile, as it were, a tongue of fiame was rapidly making its way to the turn of which we have spoken. It is running a race with the wagon, whose driver knows it not. The flames reach the road just as they turn the hill. The driver is dazed for a moment, and in that moment a falling brand strikes the horses. Half mad with pain, and frantic from the fright, away they dash, into what must prove the gates of a fiery death. The driver is overcome with fear, and the reins fall from his nerveless hands. In an instant his companion has sprung over the seat, caught them up, and stands firmly holding the horses to their course. No use to stop them now. In their swiftest speed lies the only chance of safety. With a few Words he brings the other back to something like composure, and makes him keep the wagon free from the burning wood which now and then is blown upon them. A gallant figure, as he stands, head uncovered, hands outstretched, and body thrown back, to give them steadiness by its weight, his eye ever on the watch for each danger of the road. The flames sweep on with roar and crackle, dense clouds of smoke are blown about him and many a burning branch lies in the way to almost overturn them as the wagon passes over. Tree after tree succumbs, while here and there a forest giant, survivor of former fires and the woodman’s axe, shoots

TUAT GLISTENS.

up in flames a mighty torch, king among its fellows, even in their destruction. At last the end of this fiery path draws near ; hut here is the greatest danger. The fire has crossed to the other side and forms in one place a perfect arch of flame. An immense tree hangs threateningly over the road. If it falls before they pass, it will block the way, and nothing can save them. It may even fall upon them, to bring a more speedy, but no less certain death. As the crisis approaches, the girls cling together, nervously clasping one another ; Ned’s hands are clenched, his face is pale ; while even Jack, cool, immovable as he is, shows unmistakable signs of excitement. The first driver has sunk upon his knees in agonized prayer. Above, a dense canopy of smoke throws, as it were, the darkness of death about them, waving and quivering, as though even the heavens were fearful of the dreadful doom that awaited them. The hand that guides the reins alone does not tremble, as he stands in the midst of this awful scene, undaunted. A fierce blow of the whip, and a cry of encouragement, are all that show he even knows the danger. They rapidly draw near; but even now the tree is tottering. Crack! it falls! “ Great God, can no one help them?” “ What a fearful death !” But no! it hung for an instant in the air, its flames playing about his hair as he passes under. Then it crashes to the ground just behind. He is safe ! A turn of the road hides him from their sight, and the tension on their nerves is relaxed. “ Gallantly done, by Jove!” exclaims Ned, as he mechanically prepares to help the girls, exhausted from excitement, to descend.

Bright and early the next morning our friends are assembled on the porch ; for bright and early leaves the stage on which they begin their journey northward. The road on which it crosses the mountain is chiefly formed by the bed of a stream ; but in that glorious atmosphere no physical discomfort could affect their pleasure. The end comes all too soon when Wolf Creek is reached, where one of the old-fashioned inn-keepers gives them a dinner far more delightful than the best of caterers could furnish at home. Then comes a trip by railroad, cutting through dense woods, bridging dark ravines, in which, far beneath lie sparkling torrents ; then along the Pigeon Eiver, with its miniature palisades; then more woods and valleys, with many a glimpse of distant mountain scenes, that make the resemblance between the Land of the Sky and the Land of the Alps.

“What lovely azaleas! How I wish I had some!” exclaimed Edy the ; but the others are strangely silent till Cissie, who has been studying a time-table, says, wrinkling her forehead : “ I don’t see why they allow so much time between the arrival of this train and the departure of the one North.”

“Southern trains are always behind time,” Ned began.

“There’s another reason, though,” said Jack, joining them, after a trip to the front car. “ This line likes to comply with all the wishes of its patrons, and we are about to stop for some of those azaleas Edythe saw.”

The train stopped and backed.

“You don’t mean to say you put them to all this trouble because of my idle words?”

THAT GLISTENS.

“ They were glad enough of an excuse/’

Jack and Ned soon returned, their arms laden with the lovely blossoms.

“Now you must try your fortune with one of these. They will just suit you, you are such a mountain maid,” said Cissie to Edythe.

“ It’s a shame to destroy even one of them, they are so delicious. Besides, you’d name it Jack, as you always do, and I’m tired of trying it with him.”

“ No, I won’t. I’ll name it some one you can make a hero of, as you said last night.” So Edythe broke off a spray, and pulled off the petals one by one. Just as she neared the end, a sudden draught blew the last two or three out of her hand.

“ That’s a shame ! Now I don’t know whether he will love me passionately or not at all. Never mind, I shan’t try another. Who was it ?”

“A man you must admire; for he is true and tried, that is by fire. The man we saw drive through that one yesterday.”

The junction is reached, and soon they are speeding homeward.

Chapter II

The theatre is just letting out, the curtain has fallen on the last chorus of the comic opera that is now all the rage. It is the winter following the scenes of our former chapter. Among the crowd who are pouring forth come two of our friends. Edward Saxon first attracts our attention. He stands six feet in his stockings and is built to match his height. Look at his face, the open, frank brow, well-shaped head, and firm, determined mouth and chin give signs of a character strong and true; while his dark flashing eyes and jet black hair, betray some passionate southern blood. N or do these signs belie him. Generous, kind and true, yet his enemies and even more, his friends, know that, though he holds his temper well in command, if once aroused by any meanness or injustice it becomes all but uncontrollable and even dangerous. On such occasions it is his companion who soothes him most successfully. Their friendship is perhaps the result of their complete unlikeness. Jack Harden is as unlike Saxon in character, as he is in looks. The former is an inch or two shorter than his friend, and slightly made ; but in his face there is more intellect than in Saxon’s. In fact you see power in every feature, in the high forehead, large, clearly cut nose, and wide mouth shaded by a bluish-brown mustache. His eyes, though, were his strongest point; a piercing gray, they seemed, when he looked at you, to see through your very soul. Enough of his appearance. His character as has been said was the opposite of his friend’s. Careful and prudent as a rule, when necessary he was as bold and determined as any one. Loving books, as Saxon did sport, yet in the lighter games suited to his frame, he could maintain his part with some success. A fair cricketer; but a fine, though unlucky rider, it was in all intellectual games that he excelled. The greater difierence between them was in his temper ; he really had none, though he could assume it, if he wished. Jack was a lawyer; while Ned, preferring an out-door life, was in a railroad leading from Philadelphia, where they lived.

As they descended the steps of the theatre Ned said, “Let’s go to the Cafe Dubois. There’s sure to be something interesting New Year’s Eve, and we haven’t been there for an age.”

“ All right, perhaps we may be called upon to make ourselves useful by taking some one home.”

A walk of less than a block brought them to the Cafe Dubois, the fasionable drinking saloon of the city. Entering, they find seats at a table with some of their friends, who asked why they weren’t at Mrs. Harton’s party. Ned answered “ Edythe wasn’t asked, and I only go to parties to take her.”

“Oh,” said Bill Paley, “I suppose that is since Gertie went South. You sly dog! I know you. You haven’t heard of Harry’s little adventure then ? ”

“No, what is it?”

“ Well, the party was given to the great Prima Donna, M’lle Arnot, as you know. Harry had never seen her. Soon after his arrival he was introduced by his hostess to quite a pretty young girl. His wits are wool gathering, as usual, so he don’t catch her name. Wishing to make talk, he asks if she has heard Arnot yet. With a smile she says, ‘Yes, and I am not as enthusiastic as most people, her voice doesn’t quite please me. How did you like her?’ Harry, the fool, thinks he had better run her down, so says, ‘her voice isn’t much and her face is as ugly as sin,’ with I don’t know how much of the same sort of nonsense. Mrs. Harton comes up bringing Jones. ‘M’lle Arnot, Mr. Jones.’ Poor Harry!”

“Well done Harry” — and they all laughed.

They go on laughing and joking when Paley turns to Jack and asks him if he has met the latest addition to Philadelphia society.

“No, who is he? what is his name?”

“Victor Roland. He’s a New Yorker, who has come to live here. Every one likes him, he is such a nice fellow. Parle Du diable et on voit sa queue. Here he comes.”

A medium-sized, well-built, handsome fellow enters.

“Here you are Roland! come join us won’t you?” shouts Paley. Roland, coming to their table, takes a seat, he talks brilliantly and they seem to take to him at once. The night passes rapidly. It is well on in the small hours when they break up. As they go up Walnut St., a boy somewhat under the weather, is calling out his own name and those of his companions, who can’t stop him.

“How do you like Roland?” asked Ned, when he and Jack had separated from the rest.

“I don’t like him at all.” “What? you behaved as if you did.”

THAT GLISTENS.

‘‘ Policy. I know nothing of him, so there is no use making myself disagreeable.’^

“ Why don’t you like him, to me he seems such a nice fellow, and took so much trouble to be entertaining.”

“That’s just it. He took too much trouble. Never mind, like him if you wish. He’s not worth an argument.”

“Hold on. You’re coming to New Year’s dinner with us of course. But come up early. Edythe has some friends with her to receive, and she expects me to stay around and be useful, so come keep me company; there’s a good fellow.”

“If Gertie were there you wouldn’t want me, I understand. I shall be up as soon as I can. Good-night.”

The next day opens gloomy and storming, the rain comes down in torrents. While Jack Harden is making his way toward the Saxon’s, we will look into the family affairs of some of our characters. The Saxon family is now composed of mother, daughter, and son. Mrs. Saxon lavished all her affections on her children, her w'hole life was given up to their care. They returned her love as warmly, so for the past few years she had led a happy, contented life; lately, however, a shadow had been cast over it. Her heart had troubled her somewhat, and when she consulted her physician, the dreadful truth came out. Gently and with the utmost tact he told her that she could live but a year or two more, and any violent excitement would kill her. At first she w^as saddened by this announcement ; but her cheerful nature soon became resigned to her doom. Her duty was done. Her children were grown. Edward, at twenty-five was already well advanced in his profession. He was without any great faults, and would surely make his way in the world. Her only fear was for Edythe, whose youth and beauty would be left without their proper protector; but with Ned to guard her, yet still more, with her uprightness and strength of character to keep her from those pit-falls into which other girls might easily fall, she had little reason to fear for her. So she prepared herself quietly and calmly for her fate. The children she did not tell; for she was unwilling to cast a shadow over their happiness.

Edward has already been described, and we can add nothing, except that between his sister and himself there was as deep an affection as between them and their mother. Edythe, lovely and warm-hearted, was the light and life of their home. Wherever she was, she brought happiness and sunshine. Though this was ,her second winter in society, gossip had not as yet coupled her name with any man’s, and what is more to the purpose, for once gossip was right; a fact of mingled pleasure and pain for Jack. He had known her for years; they had grown up together. He had been in the same class at school and college with Ned. They got in and out of their scrapes together, and stood by each other through thick and thin. Naturally he had seen much of Ned’s sister, and a strong friendship had arisen between them. In his case, as the years went by, it developed into the love of his life ; in hers — well lately Jack had begun to hope that he might succeed in arousing some kindred feeling. He was just beginning to

THAT GLISTENS.

work himself into a good practice. He had many friends, and as he began to prove his ability, business was coming to him ; so much so, that he felt he might now try to win his love, for whom he could now provide a home.

Here he is at their door, and taking off his things, after a word with Ned, he goes into the drawing-room, where Edythe is alone, waiting for her friends.

‘‘How do you do. Jack? I am glad you came so soon ; but I wonder the rain didn’t keep you away, it is coming down so fiercely.”

“You ought to know I don’t mind rain. Though it certainly is coming down now.” After a pause, “ The heavens seem to be weeping for the misery the year will bring.”

“What’s the matter with you? You are gloomy and poetical at the same time. Did you have a bad dream or see a ghost last night?”

“ Perhaps both.”

“ Tell me about it. It will pass the time.”

“You wouldn’t like it; besides — ”

“Besides what? You are delightfully mysterious this morning. Come, you must tell me.”

Here they were interrupted by the arrival of some of the girls; one of whom we shall introduce particularly, Ada Merton, a girl who has been out five or six winters (she says three), and is skilled in all worldly wisdom, a pastmaster of the art of fiirting, and the only one of Edythe’s friends Jack did not like.

Cissie Clayton, coming in, turns on Jack. “I think it was downright mean in you to carry off Ned Saxon last night to the stupid old theatre just when I came to dinner.’*

“ I am sure, if either of us had known you were coming, nothing, not even wild horses, could have torn us away.”

“Oh you get out I Ned was only too glad to escape me. I do believe he knew I was coming and went off on purpose. Ever since Gertie went away, he avoids girls, as if we were red-hot pokers. It’s my opinion he’s afraid we might beguile him from her. He ought to wear a placard over his heart, ‘ all tramps found trespassing on these preserves, will be arrested and dealt with according to law,’ though I don’t think it would be of any use.”

“Then you think there would be too many for the police to manage.”

“Nonsense, none of us want his attentions. I hope Edythe will be luckier to-day than Helen, my cousin, was last New Year’s day.”

“What was that? I don’t think I have heard it.”

“You know the Walders, who live next door to her, don’t you ?”

“I am sorry to say I have that extreme pleasure.”

“Then you know that never by any chance would they have callers. My cousin had asked a few girls to receive with her. Just after they came, who should arrive but the two Miss Walders. They said they had run in to see if Helen could come over that evening to their house. Helen, of course, had to ask them to take off their things, and stay a few minutes. They did. Their few minutes lengthened into an hour, then two, finally

THAT GLISTENS.

they stayed all day on some pretence or other, and when the cards were counted, set every man they knew down to their own account. For weeks afterward they boasted of how many (Wallers they had had.”

“Good,” said Jack, laughing, “that reminds me of the story about a stick, who lived next door to a great belle. They both hung baskets at their front doors. The belle’s little brother took a great interest in the number of cards she received. On one of his inspections, he found about half as many cards as before. He . couldn’t understand it. Late in the afternoon, running to his mother, he told her that Miss Fitz (the stick) was stealing his sister’s cards. Sure enough, not having any of her own, she had quietly transferred about half her neighbor’s to her basket.”

Victor Roland arriving stops for a moment at the door. Ada Merton at once stepped forward and introduced him to Edythe, saying that she had asked him to call there. Some one else at that moment came up to Miss Clayton, so Jack retired to a corner to watch the callers, particularly Roland, who is leaning over talking to Edythe in a most ardent manner.

Bill Paley comes in, and after shaking hands all round, comes up to Cissie Clayton. “Oh, Miss Clayton^ how do you do?” (rattling it off at a marvellous rate.) “You don’t look as if you’d been up till four o’clock this morning. I suppose you enjoyed yourself thoroughly. How unkind you were to the other girls, it was really mean to them to look so beautiful. What was it that made such an alarming change. You were alarming last night. I was trembling all the time for my poor 2 heart. If there hadn’t been so many fellows round you, nothing would have kept me from popping the question. I can do it with one or two witnesses, but I draw the line on a dozen or so. There were so many, that I grew tired, and skipped off early. I am sure you must have missed me. Yes, of course you did; who can help missing me, the best dancer in the city. The girls here all dance fiendishly; they keep tripping over my feet, and putting their own feet where mine ought to come. Dear me I here comes Ned. How solemn he looks, almost as bad as you are. Say! Halloh! What’s the matter?” as Ned slaps him on the shoulder.

“ Don’t you know that even the express trains can’t safely run over seventy-five miles an hour, and you were going a hundred at least ; if I hadn’t stopped you, you’d been off the track at the next curve.”

“ He was off the track already.”

“ There she goes again,” said Bill, “ if I don’t keep talking all the time, she’s bound to make love to me.

* Two hearts with but a single thought,’ etc. My poor mind can’t stand it.”

“No. I should think not. I see I must make a truce here, and to follow your example: ‘The quality of mercy is not strained,’ Bill — you stop your gabbling — and Miss Clayton, you must not lay siege to his heart ; it wouldn’t do for you to take him away from his crowd of admiring friends. You know he has the privilege of a court jester.”

“‘A Daniel come to judgment. Yea, a Daniel.’ I’m agreed. If Miss Clayton will have mercy on me. I’ll shut up.”

THAT GLISTENS.

They have just left the dinner table, and are waiting for the men who are to come in the evening. Edythe, at Miss Merton’s request, has asked Roland to come back. Jack and she are alone in a little room back of the drawing-room. She insists on his telling her his dream.