Bacillus of Beauty: A Romance of To-day

by Harriet Stark

  CHAPTER VI.

  LITTLE BROWN PARTRIDGES.

  May 20.

  I wonder if I couldn't _earn_ money. For the last week--nothing buttrouble. No check from Father. Hugh Bellmer I have not seen. Strathayhas really gone, spirited away by that superior cousin.

  And Mrs. Whitney has deserted me--oh, if it were not for moneytroubles, I wouldn't mind that, cruel as was the manner of it!

  Of course the newspapers soon learned that Strathay had left town.Trust them for that; and to make sensational use of it! The first Iknew of it, indeed, was when one day Cadge came bursting into the room.

  "Isn't it a shame?" she began in her piercing voice; as ever at feverheat of unrest, she waved at me a folded newspaper.

  "Emphatically; but what is it?"

  "That fierce tale of the _Echo_; haven't seen it? We couldn't print aline. Big Tom says the chief has put his foot down; won't have storiesabout women in private life, you know--without their consent. But whydidn't you--why can't you give us a whack at it?"

  "Because there isn't a word of truth in the whole disgusting--what doesit say?"

  I had seized the sheet from her hands and rapidly glanced over thestaring headlines. Eagerly she interrupted me:--

  "Oh, isn't it the worst ever? But I see how it happened. They must havesent out a leg man to get facts, and when no one would talk, theystirred this up in the office. But--not to print, now--what _are_ yougoing to do with His Lordship? Honest, Princess?"

  "Nothing; there's absolutely nothing between us. He's a nice fellow,and I like him, and we're good friends; that's all. I--I knew he wasgoing; fishing."

  "Well, I'm glad of that. But so must I be going."

  And she whisked out of the room, leaving in my hands this astoundingoutrage upon truth and decency:

  BY EDWARD PEPPER.

  Helen Winship is the most extraordinary woman living;

  The most beautiful woman in the world;

  A scientist of national repute;

  She has just passed through a tragedy which has left an impress uponher whole life;

  Most wonderful of all, she is the only American girl who has everrefused a titled lover.

  This is her life story, told for the first time:--

  _Chapter I.--Death:_

  A woman's scream of agony!

  A strange scene, like an alchemist's den, the light of falling dayreflected from test tubes and crucibles, revealing in dark cornersuncouth appliances, queer diagrams, strange odours. Upon the floor theinert figure of the foremost of New York's chemists; above hisprostrate form, wild-eyed with horror at seeing his dramatic death, abeautiful woman, the most beautiful in the world.

  This was the end of Prof. Carl Darmstetter;

  This was how the legacy of science came to Helen Winship.

  To carry it out, she has refused a title.

  _Chapter II.--Love:_

  Born upon a Western farm, Helen Winship's father is a yeoman of thesturdy stock that has laid the world under tribute for its daily bread.

  Early she made the choice that devotes her life to science. She was theconfidant of the dead chemist, whose torch of knowledge she took upfirm-handed, when it fell from his nerveless fingers.

  She is vowed as a vestal virgin to science.

  Strange whim of destiny! Across this maiden life of devoted study camethe shadow of a great name which for two hundred years has beenblazoned upon the pages of England's history.

  In the loom of fate the modest gray warp of Helen Winship's lifecrossed the gay woof of a Lord of high degree, and left a strange markupon the web of time.

  Love came to her--many times; but came at last in a guise that seldomwoos in vain.

  _Chapter III.--Sacrifice:_

  Who has forgotten the memorable scene in the Metropolitan Opera House,when the beautiful Miss Winship took the vast audience by storm,causing almost a panic, which was exclusively reported in these columns?

  It was followed by a greater sensation.

  Rumour ran through the ranks of the Four Hundred, and the rustle of itwas as the wind in a great forest. For one of the proudest titles frombeyond the sea, before which the wealth and fashion of the city hadmarshalled their attractions, had passed them by to kneel at the feetof the lovely scholar.

  The Earl of Strathay is the twelfth Earl of his house. He is twenty-oneyears old. His mother, the Countess Strathay, famous as a beauty, hasbeen prominent in the "Prince's set."

  Witley Castle, his seat, is one of the show places of England, thoughfinancially embarrassed by the follies of the late Earl.

  It was Lord Strathay's intention, upon landing in New York to go Westin a week; but he looked upon the fair investigator, and to look is tolove.

  He laid his title at the feet of the lovely daughter of Democracy, butwith that smile whose sweetness is a marvel to all men, she shook herbeautiful head.

  She was wedded to learning.

  Fretted by the pain, he plunged into the wilderness to hide like awounded deer.

  What shall be said of this beautiful woman, for whom men sigh as forthe unattainable? That she is lovely as the morning? All New York knowsit. That her walk is like a lily's swaying in the wind, her voice isthe sweetest music that ever ravished ear, her hair a lure forsunbeams? It is the commonplace of conversation at every smart house.

  For this lovely woman of science is no ascetic. She moves by right ofbeauty and high purpose, in the best society. This farmer's daughterwalks among the proudest in the land, and none there is to compare withher.

  Like the Admirable Crichton, no art is to her unknown, noaccomplishment by her neglected. Her eager soul, not satisfied withdominion over the realm of beauty and of love, would have all knowledgefor its sphere.

  Amusing, isn't it?--to one who is not the heroine of the tale! Thetragedy of Darmstetter revived, my scientific attainments--but oh, theworst--the worst of all--is the wicked lie that I am in the "bestsociety."

  Why, the very day before, we had been "at home," Mrs. Whitney and I,and hardly a soul that counts was here. Mrs. Van Dam had a convenientheadache; I haven't seen her since Peggy's wedding. If she had not beenso very civil--she and Mrs. Henry--I might think that even then shesuspected that Strathay--

  There were a few correct, vapid young men in gray trousers and longfrock coats among our guests that day, but none worth seriousattention. And the women!

  One creature tucked tracks under the tea cloth, whereat Mrs. Whitney'spinched nose was elevated. Ethel saw the action--in spite of her motherand sister, the poor girl clings to me; I suppose it's natural that_she_ should love beauty--and hopping round the table at the firstchance, she pulled out one, chuckling mightily.

  "'Favour is deceitful and beauty is vain,'" she quoted in undertone;"oh, Nelly, take your share of the unco guid and the riders of hobbyhorses, and be thankful it's no larger."

  Ethel doesn't know how great it is. There was the woman who insists ongloating over me as a proof of the superiority of her sex; the womanwho had written a book, the woman who would talk about Karma, and thewoman--there was more than one--who would talk about the Earl.

  After they had gone, Mrs. Whitney's disgust was as plain as her horrorof their appetite for cake and other creature comforts. But the stormbroke in earnest a day or two later, after the last reception we shallever hold together.

  I can't describe it. I don't understand it. Women are fast leaving thecity; it was too late for an "evening."

  But that made no difference; I do not deceive myself. I am pressingwith my shoulders against a mountain barrier--the prejudice ofwomen--and it never, never yields. Active opposition I could fight; butthe tactics are now to ignore me. In response to cards, I get"regrets," or women simply stay away.

  Men--ah, yes, there are always men, and many of them like as well asadmire me. But there is a subtle something that affects every man'sthought of a woman of whom women disapprove. They don't condemn me--ah,a man can be generous!--they imagine they allow for women's jealousies;but deep in
their hearts lies hid the suspicion that only women arequalified judges of women. They respect me, but they reserve judgment;and they do not wholly respect themselves, for in order to see me, theyevade their lawful guardians--their wives and mothers.

  It may have been the wine--I overheard two young cads making free of myhouse to discuss my affairs.

  "Mrs. Terry really dragged Hughy out of town?" one of them asked,assuming a familiarity with Bellmer that I suspect he cannot claim.

  "Guess so; he's playing horse with old Bellmer's money; always wrongside of the betting."

  "Needs Keeley cure. Good natured cuss; wonder if the Winship'll gethim."

  "Lay ye three to one--say twenties--that he gets away, like thatStrathay--"

  I addressed some smiling speech to the wretches, but through the wholeevening my cheeks did not cease to burn.

  When the last guest had gone, tired and hysterical as she was, Mrs.Whitney began a long tirade.

  "It must be stopped! It must be stopped!" she cried, pacing back andforth.

  The blaze of anger improved her. She must have been a handsome womanonce--tall and slender, with fine dark eyes that roll aboutdramatically.

  "I don't see what there is to stop," I said, perversity takingpossession of me, though at heart I quite agreed with her estimate ofthe evening. "The object of an entertainment being to entertain, whyshouldn't the men I know come to ours? If they stayed away, you'd bedisappointed; but when they come, as they did to-night, you'refrightened, or pretend to be."

  "I'm not frightened; I'm appalled. I don't mean Mr. Burke, though he'sa detrimental--and, by the way, he was as much distressed to-night as Iwas. I mean the men who have families--wives and daughters! Why didn'tthey bring 'em--or stay away?"

  "I'd thank John Burke to mind his own business," I cried hotly. "Hedoesn't have to come here unless he wants to."

  "There is only one way," she went on, as if speaking to herself, pacingthe floor and fanning herself violently--for her face, and especiallyher nose, was as red as a beet; she really lacesdisgracefully--"there's only one way; I must fall ill at once. I musthave nervous prostration, or--it's nearly June. I shall leave town.Heavens! What a night!"

  "You're assuming a great deal. Our arrangements were made by two, andare hardly to be broken by one. You can't agree to matronize me--let mebuy furniture for you, and then abandon me, cut off my socialopportunities--leave me--"

  "Social opportunity! Social collapse! Disgrace! Why, your prospectswere really extraordinary. But now! Where was Meg to-night? Where wasMrs. Marmaduke? Why did my own sister-in-law stay away?"

  "I don't know; do you?"

  Her harangue begun, she couldn't stop. "Where's Strathay?" shedemanded. "Gone; and no announcement--what was the matter? Needn't tellme you refused him! And why is the letter box always full of duns?Can't you pay your bills? Why didn't you say so earlier? Would havesaved us both a deal of trouble!"

  "I didn't tell you I had money."

  "You played the part, ordering dresses fit for a Duchess, and thingsfor the flat. You spent enough on a wedding gift for Peggy--or was it apromise to spend?--to support a family a month--peace offering becauseyou'd abused her!--Of course if you'd made the great success everybodyexpected, you'd be on the top wave, and so should I. I don't deny Ithought of that. But now--an evening like this--no women worth countingand a horde of men--well, it's bad enough for me, but it's worse foryou. No one'll say I brought 'em."

  "Oh, no," I assented.

  "It comes to this, then," she went on at full heat, flushing andfanning herself still more violently; "either you or I must leave thishouse, and at once."

  "Well, I sha'n't."

  And so she did!

  Whose fault was it that we were left in such a predicament--that of theinexperienced girl, or the chaperon's? What is a chaperon for? Mrs.Whitney has treated me shamefully, shamefully! Here I am all by myself,and I don't know what to do.

  Ah, well, I must play my own hand. She shall regret this night's work,if I marry rank or money.

  It is so strange how every one prospers except poor, baffled, lovelessme, who have the greatest gift of all. I wonder if it is reallyNature's law that the very beautiful must suffer; if this is her way ofequalizing the lot of the poor and plain and lowly; her law ofcompensation to make the splendid creatures walk lonely and in sorrowall their days while plain ones coo and are happy. Was Uncle Tim rightabout the little brown partridges?

  If I were superstitious or easily disheartened, I should say--but I amneither! I shall succeed. I will take my place by right of beauty ordie fighting! If I see Lord Strathay again, he shall marry me within aweek. They shall call it "one of those romantic weddings."

  I can't live here alone. I have nothing to fall back upon; nothing buta father who doesn't answer my letters, and Judge Baker who lectures mein polysyllables, and John Burke--poor old John; what a good fellow heis!--who simply loves me; and Mrs. Van Dam, who was my friend as longas she hoped to rise by my beauty to higher place, but who hasheadaches now; and Mrs. Marmaduke--

  I don't understand her desertion.

  Ah--yes, there is another, my constant companion now.

  He is an old man, thin and sallow. He lies prone on the floor, staringat me with dead, sightless eyes. He whispers from muted lips "Delilah!"and the sound of it is in my ears day and night; day and night!

  My God! It will drive me mad!