The Rise Of Silas Lapham By William Dean Howells Part 1 by William Dean Howells (read dune txt) 📕

up At Her.

 

"I Don'T Want You Should Begin At All.  What Do

You Mean,  Silas?" She Rested against The Side Of His Desk.

 

"Well,  I Don'T Know As I Mean Anything.  But Shouldn'T

You Like To Build? Everybody Builds,  At Least Once

In A Lifetime."

 

"Where Is Your Lot? They Say It'S Unhealthy,  Over There."

 

Up To A Certain Point In their Prosperity Mrs. Lapham

Had Kept Strict Account Of All Her Husband'S Affairs;

But As They Expanded,  And Ceased to Be Of The Retail Nature

With Which Women Successfully Grapple,  The Intimate Knowledge

Of Them Made Her Nervous.  There Was A Period In which She

Felt That They Were Being ruined,  But The Crash Had Not Come;

And,  Since His Great Success,  She Had Abandoned herself

To A Blind Confidence In her Husband'S Judgment,  Which She

Had Hitherto Felt Needed her Revision.  He Came And Went,

Day By Day,  Unquestioned.  He Bought And Sold And Got Gain.

She Knew That He Would Tell Her If Ever Things Went Wrong,

And He Knew That She Would Ask Him Whenever She Was Anxious.

 

"It Ain'T Unhealthy Where I'Ve Bought," Said Lapham,

Rather Enjoying her Insinuation.  "I Looked after That

When I Was Trading; And I Guess It'S About As Healthy

On The Back Bay As It Is Here,  Anyway.  I Got That Lot

For You,  Pert; I Thought You'D Want To Build On The Back

Bay Some Day."

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"Pshaw!" Said Mrs. Lapham,  Deeply Pleased inwardly,

But Not Going to Show It,  As She Would Have Said.

"I Guess You Want To Build There Yourself." She Insensibly

Got A Little Nearer To Her Husband.  They Liked to Talk

To Each Other In that Blunt Way; It Is The New England Way

Of Expressing perfect Confidence And Tenderness.

 

"Well,  I Guess I Do," Said Lapham,  Not Insisting upon

The Unselfish View Of The Matter.  "I Always Did Like

The Water Side Of Beacon.  There Ain'T A Sightlier

Place In the World For A House.  And Some Day There'S

Bound To Be A Drive-Way All Along Behind Them Houses,

Between Them And The Water,  And Then A Lot There Is

Going to Be Worth The Gold That Will Cover It--Coin.

I'Ve Had Offers For That Lot,  Pert,  Twice Over What I Give

For It.  Yes,  I Have.  Don'T You Want To Ride Over There

Some Afternoon With Me And See It?" "I'M Satisfied where

We Be,  Si," Said Mrs. Lapham,  Recurring to The Parlance

Of Her Youth In her Pathos At Her Husband'S Kindness.

She Sighed anxiously,  For She Felt The Trouble A Woman

Knows In view Of Any Great Change.  They Had Often Talked

Of Altering over The House In which They Lived,  But They

Had Never Come To It; And They Had Often Talked of Building,

But It Had Always Been A House In the Country That They

Had Thought Of.  "I Wish You Had Sold That Lot."

 

"I Hain'T," Said The Colonel Briefly.

 

"I Don'T Know As I Feel Much Like Changing our Way Of Living."

 

"Guess We Could Live There Pretty Much As We Live Here.

There'S All Kinds Of People On Beacon Street; You Mustn'T

Think They'Re All Big-Bugs. I Know One Party That Lives In a

House He Built To Sell,  And His Wife Don'T Keep Any Girl.

You Can Have Just As Much Style There As You Want,  Or Just

As Little.  I Guess We Live As Well As Most Of 'Em Now,

And Set As Good A Table.  And If You Come To Style,

I Don'T Know As Anybody Has Got More Of A Right To Put It

On Than What We Have."

 

"Well,  I Don'T Want To Build On Beacon Street,  Si,"

Said Mrs. Lapham Gently.

 

"Just As You Please,  Persis.  I Ain'T In any Hurry To Leave."

 

Mrs. Lapham Stood Flapping the Cheque Which She Held

In Her Right Hand Against The Edge Of Her Left.

 

The Colonel Still Sat Looking up At Her Face,  And Watching

The Effect Of The Poison Of Ambition Which He Had Artfully

Instilled into Her Mind.

 

She Sighed again--A Yielding sigh.  "What Are You Going

To Do This Afternoon?"

 

"I'M Going to Take A Turn On The Brighton Road,"

Said The Colonel. 

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"I Don'T Believe But What I Should Like To Go Along,"

Said His Wife.

 

"All Right.  You Hain'T Ever Rode Behind That Mare Yet,

Pert,  And I Want You Should See Me Let Her Out Once.

They Say The Snow'S All Packed down Already,  And The Going

Is A 1."

 

At Four O'Clock In the Afternoon,  With A Cold,

Red winter Sunset Before Them,  The Colonel And His Wife

Were Driving slowly Down Beacon Street In the Light,

High-Seated cutter,  Where,  As He Said,  They Were A Pretty

Tight Fit.  He Was Holding the Mare In till The Time

Came To Speed her,  And The Mare Was Springily Jolting

Over The Snow,  Looking intelligently From Side To Side,

And Cocking this Ear And That,  While From Her Nostrils,

Her Head Tossing easily,  She Blew Quick,  Irregular Whiffs

Of Steam.

 

"Gay,  Ain'T She?" Proudly Suggested the Colonel.

 

"She Is Gay," Assented his Wife.

 

They Met Swiftly Dashing sleighs,  And Let Them Pass

On Either Hand,  Down The Beautiful Avenue Narrowing

With An Admirably Even Sky-Line In the Perspective.

They Were Not In a Hurry.  The Mare Jounced easily Along,

And They Talked of The Different Houses On Either Side

Of The Way.  They Had A Crude Taste In architecture,

And They Admired the Worst.  There Were Women'S Faces At

Many Of The Handsome Windows,  And Once In a While A Young

Man On The Pavement Caught His Hat Suddenly From His Head,

And Bowed in response To Some Salutation From Within.

 

"I Don'T Think Our Girls Would Look Very Bad Behind

One Of Those Big Panes," Said The Colonel.

 

"No," Said His Wife Dreamily.

 

"Where'S The Young Man? Did He Come With Them?"

 

"No; He Was To Spend The Winter With A Friend Of His That

Has A Ranch In texas.  I Guess He'S Got To Do Something."

 

"Yes; Gentlemaning as A Profession Has Got To Play Out

In A Generation Or Two."

 

Neither Of Them Spoke Of The Lot,  Though Lapham Knew

Perfectly Well What His Wife Had Come With Him For,

And She Was Aware That He Knew It.  The Time Came When He

Brought The Mare Down To A Walk,  And Then Slowed up Almost

To A Stop,  While They Both Turned their Heads To The Right

And Looked at The Vacant Lot,  Through Which Showed the Frozen

Stretch Of The Back Bay,  A Section Of The Long Bridge,

And The Roofs And Smoke-Stacks Of Charlestown.

 

"Yes,  It'S Sightly," Said Mrs. Lapham,  Lifting her Hand

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From The Reins,  On Which She Had Unconsciously Laid It.

 

Lapham Said Nothing,  But He Let The Mare Out A Little.

 

The Sleighs And Cutters Were Thickening round Them.

On The Milldam It Became Difficult To Restrict The Mare

To The Long,  Slow Trot Into Which He Let Her Break.

The Beautiful Landscape Widened to Right And Left Of Them,

With The Sunset Redder And Redder,  Over The Low,

Irregular Hills Before Them.  They Crossed the Milldam

Into Longwood; And Here,  From The Crest Of The First Upland,

Stretched two Endless Lines,  In which Thousands Of Cutters

Went And Came.  Some Of The Drivers Were Already Speeding

Their Horses,  And These Shot To And Fro On Inner Lines,

Between The Slowly Moving vehicles On Either Side

Of The Road.  Here And There A Burly Mounted policeman,

Bulging over The Pommel Of His M'Clellan Saddle,  Jolted by,

Silently Gesturing and Directing the Course,  And Keeping

It All Under The Eye Of The Law.  It Was What Bartley

Hubbard Called "A Carnival Of Fashion And Gaiety On The

Brighton Road," In his Account Of It.  But Most Of The

People In those Elegant Sleighs And Cutters Had So Little

The Air Of The Great World That One Knowing it At All

Must Have Wondered where They And Their Money Came From;

And The Gaiety Of The Men,  At Least,  Was Expressed,

Like That Of Colonel Lapham,  In a Grim Almost Fierce,

Alertness; The Women Wore An Air Of Courageous Apprehension.

At A Certain Point The Colonel Said,  "I'M Going to Let

Her Out,  Pert," And He Lifted and Then Dropped the Reins

Lightly On The Mare'S Back.

 

She Understood The Signal,  And,  As An Admirer Said,

"She Laid Down To Her Work." Nothing in the Immutable

Iron Of Lapham'S Face Betrayed his Sense Of Triumph

As The Mare Left Everything behind Her On The Road.

Mrs. Lapham,  If She Felt Fear,  Was Too Busy Holding her

Flying wraps About Her,  And Shielding her Face From The

Scud Of Ice Flung From The Mare'S Heels,  To Betray It;

Except For The Rush Of Her Feet,  The Mare Was As Silent

As The People Behind Her; The Muscles Of Her Back And

Thighs Worked more And More Swiftly,  Like Some Mechanism

Responding to An Alien Force,  And She Shot To The End

Of The Course,  Grazing a Hundred encountered and Rival

Sledges In her Passage,  But Unmolested by The Policemen,

Who Probably Saw That The Mare And The Colonel Knew

What They Were About,  And,  At Any Rate,  Were Not The Sort

Of Men To Interfere With Trotting like That.  At The End

Of The Heat Lapham Drew Her In,  And Turned off On A Side

Street Into Brookline.

 

"Tell You What,  Pert," He Said,  As If They Had Been Quietly

Jogging along,  With Time For Uninterrupted thought Since He

Last Spoke,  "I'Ve About Made Up My Mind To Build On That Lot."

 

"All Right,  Silas," Said Mrs. Lapham; "I Suppose You

Know What You'Re About.  Don'T Build On It For Me,

That'S All."

 

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When She Stood In the Hall At Home,  Taking off Her Things,

She Said To The Girls,  Who