The Call of the South

Doctor Martin, a negro of national reputation, had sat down to dine together. It was soon after this that one evening, at his home in Cleveland, Ohio, Colonel Phillips happened upon a mixed quarte

ho heard of it, invited the two men and two wome

nded her mother in haughty indignation; though with her superb training in obedience she could not be openly rebellious. W

at nece

They are very respectable people, all of them. They are intelligent and well-bred, as you can see. Why should

s words, kept her silent when he had finished. She could not quarrel with him; and he thought he had answered her reaso

f ideas on the propriety and admirableness of her father's act. Mrs. Phillips, with the sole purpose of preserving parental discipline and not wishing even s

*

ity of a woman's heart. The entertainment of negro guests at the mansion of an aspirant for the presidency was given wide publicity by the press and was the subject of universal though temporary notice by

oung man again. The sentiments, stripped of the tartness in their expression and a seeming lack of appreciation of her distinguished father's dig

st to her woman's mind. Not that she had a whit more of love for him than upon that last day upon the St. Lawrence-oh, no; but his love for her? his willingness to avow it? was it still hers? was it ever hers really?-f

n's heart had been inclined to fight for the love of Elise of course cannot be known. His mother's philippics effected nothing, for the good reason that he had lost hope of winning Elise before the negro incidents occurred, and the personal turn his mother gave them was only tiresome to him. Elise's last words to him, "There is no answer," had put their affair beyond the effect of anything of that sort. She had no

*

had meditated upon her treatment of him till his grievance had been magnified many fold and his view had become so distorted that in all her acts he saw only a purpose to pla

and friendship at least, but no words were spoken from the heart. All of their conversational sparring was of the brain purely. They fenced with commonplaces for some little time, each on guard. Rutledge, without a thought of Doctor Martin or the negro quartett

to come over and give Washington some of those

nswer?" asked

himself 'Q' wrote in yesterday's Journal,-something to the effect that you radiate a sort of three-syllable waves which make the younger men to thrill and the old beaux to take a new

girl. "You not only read but you believe the statem

-to know my craft. I must believe so

ght the purpose of all this craft was the penny-a-line,-not knowledge or truth-which are not o

t has its money value for a newspaper man, but you must understand that we try

sure that the same incident was in his mind as in hers, had it on her

giving us the sudden full current when Colonel Phillips rents the White House. You will not care if some f

o her charms had not piqued her. He need not put his change of heart so bluntly, she thought. Yet wh

in the same month; or the light-haired, blue-eyed one who laughs both while the current is on and when it is off; or the red-headed lover who will not take 'no' for an answer; or the gray-eyed, brown-haired man who would appear indifferent while his heart is consumi

by this young woman who had quite taken his breath away with her impromptu classification of lovers. His own hair was black and his eyes, lik

man may change her mind. Men m

is not responsible for the guesses he makes before that time. After that, he knows only what he

uch an able and typical representat

d cynical twist. Both felt a sense of relief when the evening was past. But despite this condition, which prevailed during Elise's visit, Rutledge could not put away the desire to see as much of her as an assumption of indifference would permit, if only with the unformulated ho

mischief began with Elise's offhand little discourse on the colour of eyes and hair as indicia of the traits and fates of lovers-particularly with her statement that a red-headed ma

ther's success or probable success where he himself, striving, has failed. In the whole realm of human experience there are exceptions to this rule perhaps; but in the tropical province of Love there is none. There a man may conclude that the woman he wants would not be good for him, even perforce may decide he loves her not: but