The Tracy diamonds

by Mary Jane Holmes

Craig explained as well as he could and smiled as he thought of Uncle Zach trying to master, or even listen to the intricacies of Sordello. But he was glad for an audience, if half were Uncle Zach’s, and was very much engaged and excited for him. The chairs were arranged in a semi-circle, a little away from the hammock, which would not, of course, be used. Helen, the only one who was really interested, or knew much of the poet, would sit at his right. He had arranged for that by having a chair placed close to the stand on which were the roses which had come fresh that afternoon for the occasion. There were bowls of lilies on the wide railing of the piazza and at 5 o’clock Celine was to bring out biscuits and wafers and preserved ginger to be served with chocolate which Helen was to pour. Nothing could be pleasanter, he thought, as at a quarter before four he took his accustomed seat. Mrs. Tracy was the first to join him. She knew nothing of Browning and cared less, but was glad of any break in her monotonous life which did not require exertion. She did not like to drive, or sail, or walk; she had visited her grandfather’s monument, and the house where he used to live, and had been once to church. For the rest of the time she had stayed at home, doing nothing except to watch the progress of affairs between Helen and Craig. She would like to have her daughter settled, and nothing could suit her better than to see her married to Craig Mason. That morning she had broached the subject to Helen, who had replied, “If Mr. Mason proposes to me I shall not refuse him.” This had put Mrs. Tracy into so good a humor that she had forgotten to see if her diamonds were safe. Twice a day,—morning and night,—since her failure to open the safe herself, she had asked Mark to do it for her. This morning she had not made him her usual visit, and when, as she was going to the north piazza, he called to her and asked if she had forgotten her diamonds, she waved her hand patronizingly, and said, “I had; but no matter, I can wait till night.”

She took the seat indicated by Craig, and was soon joined by Mrs. Mason and Alice. Then Uncle Zach came, pleased as a child “to be invited to a literature.”

“Dot will be here in a minute,” he said, as he seated himself in a chair so high that only his toes could touch the floor. “She’s seein’ to some sass on the stove.”

Dotty soon came, heated and perspiring, and more interested in the jelly she had left in Sarah’s care than in Browning, of whom she had never heard till invited to attend the reading. Even then she would have declined if it had not been for her husband, who told her they didn’t or’to lose a chance to improve their minds.

If she thought he had not much mind to improve she did not say so, and in her best gingham gown and white apron, she took the only chair left except the one near Craig, reserved for Helen. That young lady had been having a rather unenviable time with Browning. It was now more than three weeks since that first day at the Prospect House when Alice had gone out to find the library, if there was one. She had found it without difficulty and inquired for Browning’s Poems.

“Which volume?” the librarian said.

Alice didn’t know, and confessed her ignorance.

“What particular poem do you wish to read?” was the next question.

“Sordello,” Alice replied, and the librarian brightened at once.

“Oh, yes; Vol. I. We have that, and it is nearly always in, so few care for it; they find it tough reading, they say. You like it, I suppose?” and the librarian looked over his spectacles at Alice, who said, “I don’t know; I never read it.”