University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.
ABOUT SEVERAL THINGS.

ALBERT CHARLTON, like many other very
conscientious men at his time of life, was
quarrelsomely honest. He disliked Mr. Plausaby's
way of doing business, and he therefore determined
to satisfy his conscience by having a row
with his step-father. And so he startled his sister and shocked
his mother, and made the house generally uncomfortable, by
making, in season and out of season, severe remarks on the
subject of land speculation, and particularly of land-sharks. It
was only Albert's very disagreeable way of being honest. Even
Isabel Marlay looked with terror at what she regarded as signs
of an approaching quarrel between the two men of the house.

But there was no such thing as a quarrel with Plausaby.
Moses may have been the meekest of men, but that was in
the ages before Plausaby, Esq. No manner of abuse could stir
him. He had suffered many things of many men in his life,
many things of outraged creditors, and the vietims of his somewhat
remarkable way of dealing; his air of patient long-suffering

and quiet forbearance under injury had grown chronic. It
was, indeed, part of his stock in trade, an element of character
that redounded to his credit, while it cost nothing and was in
every way profitable. It was as though the whole catalogue
of Christian virtues had been presented to Plausaby to select
from, and he, with characteristic shrewdness, had taken the
one trait that was cheapest and most remunerative.

In these contests Albert was generally sure to sacrifice by
his extravagance whatever sympathy he might otherwise have
had from the rest of the family. When he denounced dishonest
trading, Isabel knew that he was right, and that Mr.
Plausaby deserved the censure, and even Mrs. Plausaby and the
sweet, unreasoning Katy felt something of the justice of what
he said. But Charlton was never satisfied to stop here. He
always went further, and made a clean sweep of the whole
system of town-site speculation, which unreasonable invective
forced those who would have been his friends into opposition.
And the beautiful meekness with which Plausaby, Esq., bore
his step-son's denunciations never failed to excite the sympathy
and admiration of all beholders. By never speaking an unkind
word, by treating Albert with gentle courtesy, by never seeming
to fell his innuendoes, Plausaby heaped coals of fire on his
enemies' head, and had faith to believe that the coals were
very hot. Mrs. Ferret, who once witnessed one of the contests
between the two, or rather one of these attacks of Albert,
for there could be no contest with embodied meekness, gave
her verdict for Plausaby. He showed such a “Chrischen”
spirit. She really thought he must have felt the power of
grace. He seemed to hold schripeherral views, and show such
a spirit of Chrischen forbearance, that she for her part thought

he deserved the sympathy of good people. Mr. Charlton was
severe, he was unchar-it-able—really unchar-it-able in his spirit.
He pretended to a great deal of honesty, but people of unsound
views generally whitened the outside of the sep-ul-cher. And
Mrs. Ferret closed the sentence by jerking her face into an
astringed smile, which, with the rising inflection of her voice,
demanded the assent of her hearers.

The evidences of disapproval which Albert detected in the
countenances of those about him did not at all decrease his
irritation. His irritation did not tend to modify the severity
of his moral judgments. And the fact that Smith Westcott
had jumped the claim of Whisky Jim, of course at
Plausaby's suggestion, led Albert into a strain of furious talk
that must have produced a violent rupture in the family, had it
not been for the admirable composure of Plausaby, Esq., under
the extremest provocation. For Charlton openly embraced
the cause of Jim; and much as he disliked all manner of rascality,
he was secretly delighted to hear that Jim had employed
Shamberson, the lawyer, who was brother-in-law to the receiver
of the land-office, and whose retention in those days of
mercenary lawlessness was a guarantee of his client's success.
Westcott had offered the lawyer a fee of fifty dollars, but Jim's
letter, tendering him a contingent fee of half the claim, reached
him in the same mail, and the prudent lawyer, after talking
the matter over with the receiver who was to decide the case,
concluded to take half of the claim. Jim would have given
him all rather than stand a defeat.

Katy, with more love than logic, took sides of course with
her lover in this contest. Westcott showed her where he
meant to build the most perfect little dove-house for her, by

George, he! he! and she listened to his side of the story, and
became eloquent in her denunciation of the drunken driver
who wanted to cheat poor, dear Smith—she had got to the
stage in which she called him by his Christian name now—to
cheat poor, dear Smith out of his beautiful claim.

If I were writing a History instead of a Mystery of Metropolisville,
I should have felt under obligation to begin with
the founding of the town, in the year preceding the events of
this story. Not that there were any mysterious rites or solemn
ceremonies. Neither Plausaby nor the silent partners interested
with him cared for such classic customs. They sought first to
guess out the line of a railroad; they examined corner-stakes;
they planned for a future county-seat; they selected a high-sounding
name, regardless of etymologies and tautologies; they
built shanties, “filed” according to law, laid off a town-site,
put up a hotel, published a beautiful colored map, and began
to give away lots to men who would build on them. Such,
in brief, is the unromantio history of the founding of the village
of Metropolisville.

And if this were a history, I should feel bound to tell of all
the maneuvers resorted to by Metropolisville, party of the second
part, to get the county-seat removed from Perritaut, party of
the first part, party in possession. But about the time that
Smith Westcott's contest about the claim was ripening to a
trial, the war between the two villages was becoming more
and more interesting. A special election was approaching, and
Albert of course took sides against Metropolisville, partly because
of his disgust at the means Plausaby was using, partly
because he thought the possession of the county-seat would
only enable Plausaby to swindle more people and to swindle

them more effectually, partly because he knew that Perritaut
was more nearly central in the county, and partly because he
made it a rule to oppose Plausaby on general principles. Albert
was an enthusiastic and effective talker, and it was for
this reason that Plausaby had wished to interest him by getting
him to “jump” Whisky Jim's claim, which lay alongside
the town. And it was because he was an enthusiastic talker,
and because his entire disinterestedness and his relations to
Plausaby gave his utterances peculiar weight, that the Squire
planned to get him out of the county until after the election.

Mrs. Plausaby suggested to Albert that he should go and
visit a cousin thirty miles away. Who suggested it to Mrs.
Plausaby we may not guess, since we may not pry into the
secrets of a family, or know anything of the conferences which
a husband may hold with his wife in regard to the management
of the younger members of the household. As an authentic
historian, I am bound to limit myself to the simple
fact, and the fact is that Mrs. Plausaby stated to Albert
her opinion that it would be a nice thing for him to go
and see Cousin John's folks at Glenfield. She made the suggestion
with characteristic maladroitness, at a moment when
Albert had been holding forth on his favorite hobby of the
sinfulness of land-speculation in general, and the peculiar wickedness
of misrepresentation and all the other arts pertaining
to town-site swindling. Perhaps Albert was too suspicious.
He always saw the hand of Plausaby in everything proposed
by his mother. He bluntly refused to go. He wanted to stay
and vote. He would be of age in time. He wanted to stay
and vote against this carting of a county-seat around the
country for purposes of speculation. He became so much excited

at what he regarded as a scheme to get him out of the
way, that he got up from the table and went out into the air
to cool off. He sat down on the unpainted piazza, and took
up Gerald Massey's poems, of which he never tired, and read
until the light failed.

And then came Isa Marlay out in the twilight and said
she wanted to speak to him, and he got her a chair and listened
while she spoke in a voice as full of harmony as her
figure was full of gracefulness. I have said that Isabel was
not a beauty, and yet such was the influence of her form, her
rhythmical movement, and her sweet, rich voice, that Charlton
thought she was handsome, and when she sat down and
talked to him, he found himself vibrating, as a sensitive nature
will, under the influence of grace or beauty.

“Don't you think, Mr. Charlton, that you would better take
your mother's suggestion, and go to your cousin's? You'll
excuse me for speaking about what does not concern me?”

Charlton would have excused her for almost anything she
might have said in the way of advice or censure, for in spite
of all his determination that it should not be, her presence
was very pleasant to him.

“Certainly I have no objection to receive advice, Miss Marlay;
but have you joined the other side?”

“I don't know what you mean by the other side, Mr.
Charlton. I don't belong to any side. I think all quarreling
is unpleasant, and I hate it. I don't think anything you say
makes any change in Uncle Plausaby, while it does make your
mother unhappy.”

“So you think, Miss Isabel, that I ought to go away from
Wheat County and not throw my influence on the side of right

in this contest, because my mother is unhappy?” Albert spoke
with some warmth.

“I did not say so. I think that a useless struggle, which
makes your mother unhappy, ought to be given over. But I
didn't want to advise you about your duty to your mother.
I was led into saying so much on that point. I came to say
something else. It does seem to me that if you could take
Katy with you, something might turn up that would offer you
a chance to influence her. And that would be better than
keeping the county-seat at Perritaut.” And she got up to go in.

Charlton was profoundly touched by Isabel's interest in
Katy. He rose to his feet and said: “You are right, I believe.
And I am very, very much obliged.”

And as the straightforward Isa said, “Oh! no, that is nothing,”
and walked away, Charlton looked after her and said,
“What a charming woman!” He felt more than he said,
and he immediately set himself loyally to work to enumerate
all the points in which Miss Helen Minorkey was superior to
Isa, and said that, after all, gracefulness of form and elasticity
of motion and melodiousness of voice were only lower gifts,
possessed in a degree by birds and animals, and he blamed
himself for feeling them at all, and felt thankful that Helen
Minorkey had those higher qualities which would up-lift—he
had read some German, and compounded his words—up-lift a
man to a higher level. Perhaps every loyal-hearted lover plays
these little tricks of self-deception on himself. Every lover
except the one whose “object” is indeed perfect. You know
who that is. So do I. Indeed, life would be a very poor
affair if it were not for these—what shall I call them? If
Brown knew how much Jones's wife was superior to his own,

Brown would be neither happier nor better for the knowledge.
When he sees the superiority of Mrs. Jones's temper to Mrs.
Brown's somewhat energetic disposition, he always falls back
on Mrs. Brown's diploma, and plumes himself that at any rate
Mrs. Brown graduated at the Hobson Female College. Poor
Mrs. Jones had only a common-school education. How mortified
Jones must feel when he thinks of it!