That was the stumbling block of our young author, for he never could make up his mind to choose between the Dale girls. First he would write out a beautiful story in which his hero (and there was only one hero to him) married Julie and was as happy as the day is long. This would have been eminently satisfactory if it had not been for a sort of feeling of slighting Hester, who seemed to be lurking in the background of his tale gazing at him with reproachful eyes. Jack the tender-hearted could not stand that, so zip!—would go all the paper, torn to shreds, and he would patiently start all over again to give Hester a chance. But however he arranged it, one was left out. He couldn’t have it on his conscience to make his hero a Mormon and so to one and one alone could he belong. This was all wrong, from Jack’s point of view, but he did not know how to make it any different and as it seemed to be a subject he could not discuss with any of the three persons most concerned the poor boy gave it up in despair.
But if Jack was racked with indecision it was not so with Kenneth Landor, who had fallen in love with Hester at first sight. One hears that to fall in love at first sight is an experience belonging to bygone days, and is quite unknown to the practical common-sense young people of whom in this generation one hears so much. Be that as it may, Kenneth, in spite of his worldly experience, was old-fashioned enough to be full of sentiment and treasured in his mind every meeting with Hester down to their first walk when she had dismissed him so summarily under the lamp-post. He could count them on the fingers of one hand, the actual hours he had spent with her, but between Dr. Ware and Jack he managed to keep as well informed concerning her life as if he were in daily intercourse with her; and it was his sole aim and ambition to put her struggles to an end. The generous fellow had not Grémond’s idea of taking one of them away—he could not conceive of the little family being separated and his admiration of Julie was rapidly growing into an affection that made him long to cast her life, too, in sunny places and make a snug little home for them all. These were Kenneth’s hopes and dreams—air-castles which sometimes took grim, fantastic shapes and often tottered to the ground when he remembered that Hester might not deign to look at him.
Suddenly into all this work and dreaming entered a new element, threatening to disturb the future with a terrible upheaval, for the necessity that our country should go to war with Spain was talked of openly throughout the land. Rumors that war would be, had been, never would be declared were rife, suggested and contradicted in a breath, while the uncertainty of national affairs produced an excitement that pervaded all classes and conditions of men.
Kenneth was one of those who believed in the war and whose whole spirit was fired with a desire to do his part toward jealously guarding his country’s honor. At the same time, if he hoped to win Hester and make a home for her it scarcely seemed as if it would accrue to his advantage to go away. These things were so in his mind that he longed for a chance to see and talk with her, and then, as always, in his thoughts of her he was confronted by the fearful consciousness that she might take no interest in so unimportant a thing as himself. Nevertheless, he meant to make himself important to her and it was therefore to him as to Grémond, a great disappointment that the girls had not put in an appearance at Miss Ware’s reception and he had spent an anxious night speculating as to the cause of their non-appearance.
He managed by rising earlier than usual to get around to Dr. Ware’s office on his way to business the morning after the reception; but, contrary to habit, that individual was already off. Much perturbed he worked harder than ever at the office and regretted that he had promised to drive out of town to a wedding. He was in no mood for society, even so charming as that of the Lennoxes. He was not a man who broke his engagements, however, and therefore went home about three o’clock to dress. When the Lennoxes called for him he sauntered out in his usual charming manner and made the greater effort to be agreeable to each member of the party from the mere fact that it was an effort. This is a form of unselfishness, trivial perhaps, but necessitating a willingness to put aside one’s personal inclination, to thrust aside one’s mood for the general good. Some people call it adaptability, some tact, some a desire to please, but in Kenneth Landor, as in many others, it was an unselfish wish to contribute his share to the general entertainment. He was a man who recognized the duty of a guest to his hostess and did not look upon it as being all the other way. Having adjusted himself to a purely impersonal philosophical attitude toward the expedition, imagine his revulsion of feeling when Mrs. Lennox told him that the party would not be complete until they had picked up Miss Hester Dale whose sister, unfortunately, was unable to go with them. As we know, she delegated him to escort Hester down and we may know too, though no one on the coach suspected it, that he went up the four flights of stairs two steps at a time and nearly ran down Jack who was hobbling up on his crutches.
What if, when he and Hester went into the street together she was immediately appropriated by their host and given the seat of honor beside him. Couldn’t Kenneth see her—every turn of her pretty head—and wasn’t he inwardly proud that she was chosen for this distinction and didn’t he know that it would be his own fault if he did not monopolize her later on?
As for Hester, she had never been in a merrier mood and chattered on like a little magpie, forgetful of her sister’s warning “not to talk herself black in the face.” Every now and then she would heave a little sigh and audibly wish Julie were there—a wish promptly seconded by her host, who nevertheless was amply satisfied with his companion.
The mere sensation of bowling along over smooth roads and through the beautiful environs of Radnor was in itself a novelty and delight to Hester but she was raised to the seventh heaven of bliss when Mr. Lennox, after a talk they had had about horses, said:
“Wouldn’t you like to take the ribbons, Miss Dale?”
“Oh!” she gasped, “but my gloves—I can’t drive in these,” holding up two white kid hands. She did not think it necessary to add that they were her only pair.