A Strange, Sad Comedy

by Molly Elliot Seawell

“As for myself,” he wrote, “without indulging in any cant or hypocrisy, I can say that the loss of what might have been mine has great compensations for me. I shall now be free to pursue my profession of architecture, which I love with the greatest enthusiasm. Formerly I was handicapped by being thought a rich man, and among my fellows in my trade it was always against me that I took money which I did not need. But now I am upon the same footing as the rest, and I shall have a chance to pursue it, not as a dilettante, but as a working member of a great profession. I have done some things that have been commended, and I have got engagements already, although I have not yet opened an office. But I have taken one in New York. So, although I suppose no man ever lost money who did not regret it, I can say, with great sincerity, that I know of no man who ever lost it to whom it was so slight a real loss.”

Letty and the Colonel both liked Farebrother’s letter; it was so straightforward and manly. The Colonel, with masculine fatuity, had suggested that Sir Archy and Farebrother should time their visit together. The truth was he did not relish the idea of tramping over meadows and through woods after partridges, nor did he think it hospitable to let one of his guests go alone, but two of them could get along very well, so he managed to ask them both at the same time. Neither one liked the arrangement when he found it out, but neither made any opposition.

Farebrother could not quite fathom how Sir Archy and Letty stood toward each other. Sir Archy had not indulged in any demonstrations toward her, except those that were merely friendly. Judged from the American point of view, his attentions were nothing. And to complicate matters, his following the Corbins and the Romaine party to New York might be understood as committing him as much to Miss Maywood as to Miss Corbin. The Chessinghams, Miss Maywood, and even Sir Archy himself regarded that New York trip as a very important and significant affair, and Sir Archy, not forgetting his British caution in love affairs, had at first congratulated himself that his motive might be supposed to be either one of the girls. But upon further reflection he rather regretted this. He knew that Letty attached not the slightest importance to anything a man might say or do short of an actual proposal.

But Ethel Maywood was different. She was of good family, accustomed to all the restrictions of a young English girl, and Chessingham was one of his best friends, so that it would be peculiarly awkward if his conduct had given rise to hopes that never could be realized.

There was no doubt in Sir Archy’s mind, though, that he preferred Letty. He had heretofore felt, in all the slight fancies he had had for girls, a need for the greatest circumspection, for he was a baronet with a rent-roll, and as such distinctly an eligible. But whether Letty would take him or not, he had not the remotest inkling. Sometimes he reasoned that the mere fact she exempted him to a certain degree from the outrageous coquetry she lavished on Farebrother might be a good sign. Again, he felt himself hopelessly out of the race. As for Miss Maywood, he had a half acknowledged feeling that if Letty did not take him Ethel had the next best claim. Of course he knew she would marry Mr. Romaine if he asked her. But this did not shock him, accustomed as he was to the English idea that there is a grave, moral obligation upon every girl to marry well if she can, without waiting for further eventualities.

The boat only came to the river landing twice a week, so that it happened very naturally both Sir Archy and Farebrother stepped off the steamer one November evening, and got into the rickety carriage drawn by the two showy bobtailed horses bought in New York, over which Dad Davy handled the ribbons. Dad Davy received the guests with effusion, and apologized for the restlessness of the horses.

“Dee ain’ used ter de ways o’ de quality yit. Quality folks’ horses oughter know to stan’ still an’ do nuttin’; ole marse say dee warn’t raise’ by no gent’mun, an’ dee k’yarn’ keep quiet like er gent’mun’s kerridge hosses oughter.”

The horses started off at a rattling pace, and the carriage bumped along at such a lively rate over the country road that Sir Archy fully expected to find himself landed flat on the ground.

“I don’t believe this old trap will ever get us to Corbin Hall,” he said to Farebrother.

The two men were pleasant enough together, although each wished the other back in New York. Farebrother inquired about Mr. Romaine, and Sir Archy mentioned that the whole party would be down the next week.