Ranson's Folly (Fiscle Part 3) by Richard Harding Davis (dar e dil novel online reading TXT) 📕

No,  Who Will Not Hear Of It,  Nor Consider It,  Has Much To Answer For

In Making Life A Burden To Himself And All Around Him.

When Corbin Joined The Warriners On Their Trip Up The Nile It Was

Considered By All Of Them,  In Their Ignorance,  A Happy Accident.

Other Mothers,  More Worldly Than Mrs. Warriner,  With Daughters Less

Attractive,  Gave Her Undeserved Credit For Having Lured Into Her

Party One Of The Young Men Of Boston Who Was Most To Be Desired As A

Son-In-Law. But The Mind Of Mrs. Warriner,  So Far As Mr. Corbin Was

Concerned,  Was Quite Free From Any Such Consideration; So Was The

Mind Of The Young Bachelor; Certainly Miss Warriner Held No Tender

Thoughts Concerning Him. The Families Of The Warriners And The

Corbins Had Been Friends Ever Since The Cowpath Crossed The Common.

Before Corbin Entered Harvard Miss Warriner And He Had Belonged To

The Same Dancing-Class. Later She Had Danced With Him At Four Class-

Days,  And Many Times Between. When He Graduated,  She Had Gone Abroad

With Her Mother,  And He Had Joined The Somerset Club,  And Played Polo

At Pride's Crossing,  And Talked Vaguely Of Becoming A Lawyer,  And Of

Re-Entering Harvard By The Door Of The Law School,  Chiefly,  It Was

Supposed,  That He Might Have Another Year Of The Football Team. He

Was Very Young In Spirit,  Very Big And Athletic,  Very Rich,  And

Without A Care Or Serious Thought. Miss Warriner Was To Him,  Then,  No

More Than A Friend; To Her He Was A Boy,  One Of Many Nice,  Cultivated

Harvard Boys,  Who Occasionally Called Upon Her And Talked Football.

On The Face Of Things,  She Was Not The Sort Of Girl He Should Have

Loved. But For Some Saving Clause In Him,  He Should Have Loved And

Married One Of The Many Other Girls Who Had Belonged To The Same

Dancing-Class,  Who Would Have Been Known As "Mrs. Tom" Corbin,  Who

Would Have Been Sought After As A Chaperone,  And Who Would Have Stood

Up In Her Cart When He Played Polo And Shouted At Him Across The

Field To "Ride Him Off."

Miss Warriner,  On The Contrary,  Was Much Older Than He In Everything

But Years,  And Was Conscious Of The Fact. She Was A Serious,  Self-

Centred Young Person,  And Satisfied With Her Own Thoughts,  Unless Her

Companion Gave Her Better Ones. She Concerned Herself With The

Character And Ideas Of Her Friends. If A Young Man Lacked Ideas,  The

Fact That He Possessed Wealth And Good Manners Could Not Save Him. If

These Attributes Had Been Pointed Out To Her As Part Of His Assets

She Would Have Been Surprised. She Was Not Impressed With Her Own

Good Looks And Fortune--She Took Them For Granted; So Why Should They

Count With Her In Other People?

Miss Warriner Made An Error Of Analysis In Regard To Mr. Corbin In

Judging His Brain By His Topics Of Conversation. His Conversation Was

Limited To The A B C's Of Life,  With Which,  Up To The Time Of His

Meeting Her,  His Brain Had Been Fed. When,  However,  She Began To Cram

It Full With All The Other Letters Of The Alphabet,  It Showed Itself

Just As Capable Of Digesting The Economic Conditions Of Egypt As It

Had Previously Succeeded In Mastering The Chess-Like Problems Of The

Game Of Football.

Young Corbin Had Not Considered The Home Beautiful,  Nor Municipal

Government,  Nor How The Other Half Lives As Topics That Were Worth

His While; But When Miss Warriner Showed Her Interest In Them,  Her

Doing So Made Them Worth His While,  And He Fell Upon Them Greedily.

He Even Went Much Further Than She Had Gone,  And Was Not Content

Merely To Theorize And To Discuss Social Questions From The Safe

Distance Of The Deck Of A Dahabiyeh On The Nile,  But Proposed To At

Once Put Her Theories Into Practice. To This End He Offered Her A

House In The Slums Of Boston,  Rent Free,  Where She Could Start Her

College Settlement. He Made Out Lists Of The Men He Thought Would

Like To Teach There,  And He Volunteered To Pay The Expenses Of The

Experiment Until It Failed Or Succeeded. When Her Interest Changed To

The Tombs Of The Rameses,  And The Succession Of The Ancient

Dynasties,  He Spent Hours Studying His Baedeker That He Might Keep In

Step With Her; And When She Abandoned Ancient For Modern Egypt And

Became Deeply Charmed With The Intricacies Of The Dual Control And Of

The Mixed Courts,  He Interviewed Subalterns,  Pashas,  And Missionaries

In A Gallant Effort To Comprehend The Social And Political

Difficulties Of The White Men Who Had Occupied The Land Of The

Sphinx,  Who Had Funded Her Debt,  Irrigated Her Deserts,  And "Made A

Mummy Fight."

One Night,  As The Dahabiyeh Lay Moored Beneath A Group Of Palms In

The Moonlight,  Miss Warriner Gave Him Praise For Offering Her The

House In The Slums For Her Experiment. He Assured Her That He Was

Entirely Selfish--That He Did So Because He Believed Her Settlement

Would Be A Benefit To The Neighborhood,  In Which He Owned Some

Property. When She Then Accused Him Of Giving Sordid Reasons For What

Was His Genuine Philanthropy He Told Her Flatly That He Neither Cared

For The Higher Education Of The Slums Nor The Increased Value Of His

Rents,  But For Her,  And To Please Her,  And That He Loved Her And

Would Love Her Always. In Answer To This,  Miss Warriner Told Him

Gently But Firmly That She Could Not Love Him,  But That She Liked Him

And Admired Him,  Even Though She Was Disappointed To Find That His

Sudden Interest In Matters More Serious Than Polo Had Been Assumed To

Please Her. She Added That She Would Always Be His Friend. This,  She

Thought,  Ended The Matter; It Was Unfortunate That They Should Be

Shipbound On The Nile; But She Trusted To His Tact And Good Sense To

Save Them Both From Embarrassment. She Was Not Prepared,  However,  To

See Him Come On Deck Very Late The Next Morning,  After,  Apparently,  A

Long Sleep,  As Keen,  As Cheerful,  And As Smiling As He Had Been

Before The Blow Had Fallen. It Piqued Her A Little,  And Partly

Because Of That,  And Partly Because She Really Was Relieved To Find

Him In Such A Humor,  She Congratulated Him On His Most Evident

Happiness.

"Why Not?" He Asked,  Suddenly Growing Sober. "I Love You. That Is

Enough To Make Any Man Happy,  Isn't It? You Needn't Love Me,  But You

Can't Prevent My Going On Loving You."

"Well,  I Am Very Sorry," She Sighed In Much Perplexity.

"You Needn't Be," He Answered,  Reassuringly. "I'm More Sorry For You

Than I Am For Myself. You Are Going To Have A Terrible Time Until You

Marry Me."

They Were At Thebes,  And He Went Off That Afternoon To The Temple Of

Luxor With Her Mother,  And Made Violent Use Of The Sacred Altars,  The

Beauty Of Cleopatra,  The Eternity Of The Scarabea,  And The

Indestructibility Of The Pyramids To Suggest Faintly To Mrs. Warriner

How Much He Loved Her Daughter. He Shook His Hand At The Crouching

Sphinxes And Said:

"Mrs. Warriner,  In Forty Centuries They Have Never Looked Down Upon A

Man As Proud As I Am,  And I Am Told They Have Seen Napoleon; But I

Need Help; She Won't Help Me,  So You Must. It's No Use Arguing

Against Me. When This Nile Dries Up I Shall Have Ceased Loving Your

Daughter!"

"Did You Tell Helen What You Have Told Me? Did You Talk To Her So?"

Asked Mrs. Warriner.

"No,  Not Last Night," Said Corbin; "But I Will,  In Time,  After She

Gets More Used To The Idea."

Unfortunately For The Peace Of Mr. Corbin And All Concerned. Miss

Warriner Did Not Become Reconciled To The Idea. On The Contrary,  She

Resented It Greatly. She Had Looked At The Possibility Of Something

To Be Carried Out Later--Much Later,  Perhaps Not At All. It Did Not

Seem Possible That Before She Had Really Begun To Enjoy Life It

Should Be Subjected To Such A Change. She Saw That It Was Obviously

The Thing That Should Happen. If The Match Had Been Arranged By The

Entire City Of Boston It Could Not Have Been More Obvious. But She

Argued With Him That Marriage Was A Mutual Self-Sacrifice,  And That

Until She Felt Ready To Make Her Share Of The Sacrifice It Was

Impossible For Her To Consent.

He Combated Her Arguments,  Which He Refused To Consider As Arguments,

And Demolished Them One By One. But The Objection Which He Destroyed

Before He Went To Sleep At Night Was Replaced The Next Day By

Another,  And His Cause Never Advanced. Each Day He Found The Citadel

He Was Besieging Girt In By New And Intricate Defences. The Reason

Was Simple Enough: The Girl Was Not In Love With Him. Her Objections,

Her Arguments,  Her Reasons Were As Absurd As He Proved Them To Be.

But They Were Insurmountable Because They Were Really Various

Disguises Of The Fact That She Did Not Care For Him. They Were

Disguises To Herself As Well As To Him. He Was So Altogether A Good

Fellow,  So Earnest,  Honest,  And Desperate A Lover That The Primary

Fact That She Did Not Want His Love Did Not Present Itself,  And She

Kept Casting About In Her Mind For Excuses And Reasons To Explain Her

Lack Of Feeling. He Wooed Her In Every Obvious Way That Would Present

Itself To A Boy Of Deep Feeling,  Of Quick Mind,  And An Unlimited

Letter Of Credit. He Created Wants In Order To Gratify Them Later. He

Suggested Her Need Of Things Which He Had Already Ordered,  Which,

Before She Had Been Enticed Into Expressing A Wish For Them,  Were

Then Speeding Across The Continent Toward Her. Every Hour Brought Her

Some Fresh And Ingenuous Sign Of His Thought And Of His Devotion. He

Treated These Tributes As A Matter Of Course; If She Failed To

Observe Them And To See His Handiwork In Them He Let Them Fall To The

Ground Unnoticed.

His Love Itself Was His Argument-In-Chief; It Was Its Own Excuse; It

Needed No Allies; "I Love You" Was His First And Last Word. It