Robert Kimberly

Kimberly, his hands half-way in the pockets ofhis sack-coat, turned in protest: "I think youtwo go through this every time you come over,Dolly." Dolly waved her hand with a laugh.Uncle John this time did not even take the troubleto look around. He continued to smile at Aliceeven while he returned to Robert hisnon-committal: "Do we?"

Alice felt desirous of edging away from UncleJohn's kind of Kimberly eyes. "You ought toget better here very fast, Mr. Kimberly," she saidto him briskly. "This lovely prospect!" sheexclaimed, looking about her. "And in everydirection."

"It is pretty toward the lake," Robertvolunteered, knowing that Uncle John would merelylook at Alice without response.

He led the way as he spoke toward the mirroredsheet of water and, as Alice came to his side, pointed out the features of the landscape. Dollysat a moment with Uncle John and joinedKimberly and Alice as they walked on.

They encountered the attendant, BrotherFrancis, who had retreated as far as he could from thevisitors. Dolly, greeting him warmly, turned toAlice. "Mrs. MacBirney, this is Brother Franciswho takes care-and such excellent care! – of UncleJohn."

Brother Francis's features were spare. Hisslender nose emphasized the strength of his face.But if his expression at the moment was sober, and his dark eyes looked as if his thoughts mightbe away, they were kindly. His eyes, too, fellalmost at the instant Dolly spoke and he onlybowed his greeting to Alice. But with Francisa bow was everything. Whether he welcomed, tolerated, or disapproved, his bow clearly andsufficiently signified.

His greeting of Alice expressed deference andsincerity. But there was even more in it-somethingof the sensible attitude of a gentleman who,in meeting a lady in passing, and being himselfan attendant, desires to be so considered and seekswith his greeting to dismiss himself from thesituation. To this end, however, Francis's effortswere unsuccessful.

"He is the most modest man in the world,"murmured Dolly, in concluding a eulogium, delivered to Alice almost in the poor Brother's face.

"Then why not spare his feelings?" suggestedKimberly.

"Because I don't believe in hiding a light undera bushel," returned Dolly, vigorously. "Thereis so little modesty left nowadays-"

"That you want to be rid of what there is,"suggested Kimberly.

"That when I find it I think it a duty torecognize it," Dolly persisted.

Brother Francis maintained his composure aswell as he could. Indeed, self-consciousnessseemed quite lacking in him. "Surely," hesmiled, bowing again, "Madame De Castro has agood heart. That," he added to Alice, italicizinghis words with an expressive forefinger, "is thereal secret. But I see danger even if one shouldpossess a gift so precious as modesty," hecontinued, raising his finger this time in mildadmonition; "when you-how do you say in English-'trotout' the modesty and set it up to lookat" – Francis's large eyes grew luminous inpantomime-"the first thing you know, pff! Where is it?You search." Brother Francis beat the skirt of hisblack gown with his hands, and shook it as if todislodge the missing virtue. Then holding hisempty palms upward and outward, and addingthe dismay of his shoulders to the fanciedsituation, he asked: "Where is it? It is gone!"

"Which means we shouldn't tempt BrotherFrancis's modesty," interposed Alice.

Francis looked at Alice inquiringly. "You area Catholic?" he said, "your husband not."

Alice laughed: "How did you know?"

Francis waved his hand toward his informant: "Mr. Kimberly."

The answer surprised Alice. She looked atKimberly.

There was an instant of embarrassment. "Francisfeels our pagan atmosphere so keenly," Kimberlysaid slowly, "that I gave him the news aboutyou as a bracer-just to let him know we had afriend at court even if we were shut out ourselves."

"He told me," continued Francis, with humor,"that a Catholic lady was coming this afternoon, and to put on my new habit."

"Which, of course, you did not do," interposedKimberly, regaining the situation.

Brother Francis looked deprecatingly at hisshiny serge.

Dolly and Alice laughed. "Mr. Kimberlydidn't understand that you kept on your old oneout of humility," said Alice. "But how did youknow anything about my religion?" she asked, turning to Kimberly.

Francis took this chance to slip away to his charge.

"Arthur De Castro is the culprit," answeredKimberly. "He told me some time ago."

"You have a good memory."

"For some things. Won't you pour tea forMrs. MacBirney, Dolly? Let us go downstairs, anyway."

He walked with Alice into the house, talking asthey went.

Dolly bent over Uncle John's chair. "Isn'tshe nice?" she whispered, nodding toward Aliceas Alice disappeared with Kimberly. "Youknow Madame De Castro went to school in Pariswith her mother, who was a De Gallon, and herfather-Alice's grandfather-was the last man inLouisville to wear a queue."

Uncle John seemed not greatly moved at thisinformation, but did look reminiscent. "Whatwas her father's name?"

"Alice's father was named Marshall. He andher mother both are dead. She has no nearrelatives."

"I remember Marshall-he was a refiner."

"Precisely; he met with reverses a few years ago."

Uncle John looked after Alice with his feeble, questioning grin. "Fine looking," he muttered, still looking after her much as the toothless giantlooked after Christian as he passed his cave. "Finelooking."

Dolly was annoyed: "Oh, you're always thinkingabout fine looks! She is nice."

Uncle John smiled undismayed. "Is she?"

CHAPTER VI

Alice had been married five years-it seemeda long time. The first five years of marriedlife are likely to be long enough to chart prettyaccurately the currents of the future, howeverinsufficient to predict just where those currents willcarry one.

Much disillusioning comes in the first fiveyears; when they have passed we know less ofourselves and more of our consort. Undoubtedlythe complement of this is true, and our consortknows more of us; but this thought, not alwaysreassuring, comes only when we reflect concerningourselves, which fortunately, perhaps, is notoften. Married people, if we may judge fromwhat they say, tend to reflect more concerningtheir mates.

Alice, it is certain, knew less of herself. Muchof the confidence of five years earlier she hadparted with, some of it cruelly. Yet comingat twenty-five into the Kimberly circle, and withthe probability of remaining in it, of its being toher a new picture of life, Alice gradually renewedher youth. Some current flowing from this joyof living seemed to revive in her the illusions ofgirlhood. All that she now questioned waswhether it really was for her.

Her husband enjoyed her promise of success intheir new surroundings without realizing in theleast how clearly those about them discriminatedbetween his wife and himself. She brought onequality that was priceless among those withwhom she now mingled-freshness.

Among such people her wares of mentalaptness, intelligence, amiability, not to discuss acharm of person that gave her a place amongwomen, were rated higher than they could havebeen elsewhere. She breathed in her newatmosphere with a renewed confidence, for nothingis more gratifying than to be judged by what webelieve to be the best in us; and nothing morereassuring after being neglected by stupid peoplethan to find ourselves approved by the best.

Walter MacBirney, her husband, representinghimself and his Western associates, and nowlooked on by them as a man who had forcedrecognition from the Kimberly interests, made on hisside, too, a favorable impression among the menwith whom his affairs brought him for the firsttime in contact.

If there was an exception to such an impressionit was with Robert Kimberly, but even with himMacBirney maintained easily the reputationaccorded to Western men for general capacity anda certain driving ability for putting things through.

He was described as self-made; and examinedwith the quiet curiosity of those less fortunateEastern men who were unwilling or unable toascribe their authorship to themselves, he madea satisfactory showing.

In the Kimberly coterie of men, which consistedin truth more of the staff associates in theKimberly activities than of the Kimberlysthemselves, the appearance of MacBirney on the sceneat Second Lake was a matter of interest to everyone of the fledgling magnates, who, under thelarger wing of the Kimberlys, directed thecommercial end of their interests.

McCrea, known as Robert Kimberly'sright-hand man; Cready Hamilton, one of theKimberly bankers, and brother of Doctor Hamilton,Robert's closest friend; Nelson, the Kimberlycounsel-all took a hand in going over MacBirney,so to say, and grading him up. They foundfor one thing that he could talk without sayinganything; which in conducting negotiations wasan excellent trait. And if not always a successfulstory-teller, he was a shrewd listener. In everythinghis native energy gave him a show of interestwhich, even when factitious, told in his favor.

Soon after the call on Uncle John, Dollyarranged a dinner for the MacBirneys, at whichCharles Kimberly and his wife and RobertKimberly were to be the guests. It followed a secondevening spent at the Nelsons', whence RobertKimberly had come home with the De Castrosand MacBirneys. Alice had sung for them. Afteraccepting for the De Castro dinner, Robert at thelast moment sent excuses. Dolly masked herfeelings. Imogene and Charles complained a little, but Arthur De Castro was so good a host that healone would have made a dinner go.

MacBirney, after he and Alice had gone to theirrooms for the night, spoke of Robert's absence."I don't quite understand that man," he mused."What do you make of him, Alice?"

Alice was braiding her hair. She turned fromher table. "I've met him very little, youknow-when we called at his house, and twice at theNelsons'. And I saw very little of him last night.He was with that drinking set most of the evening."