A Romantic Young Lady. Grant Robert
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I felt in duty bound to pay my respects to her, and accordingly dropped in one day about luncheon time. She was not alone; and her visitor, who was a young woman some five years my senior, stopped short in her animated conversation as I entered, and swept down upon me with a wealth of facial expression in response to my Aunt's guttural —
"My niece!"
"This is too pleasant, Miss Harlan. I have heard about you so often, and wished to meet you. Now that we are acquainted, I do hope we shall be friends."
"This is Miss Kingsley, Virginia. You will not do amiss to follow in her footsteps," said Aunt Agnes, by way of setting me down where she considered I belonged, for I had not so far mortified the flesh as to alter my street costumes. As a consequence I was the pink of neatness in a new bonnet which contrasted itself already in my mind with the over-trimmed attire of my aunt's guest. I noticed that Miss Kingsley looked me over from head to foot with a sweeping glance as she spoke.
But I felt humble-minded, and disposed to seize any straw that might help me to realize my desire for new acquaintances. So I smiled sweetly, as though undisturbed by my aunt's severity, and greeted Miss Kingsley with more effusion than it was my wont to display toward strangers.
"I have heard that Miss Virginia Harlan is very clever," she said, opening and shutting her eyes in rapid succession, which I soon found was usual with her when she wished to be gracious, and which had much the effect of heat lightning on the beholder. "Weren't you at Tinker's Reach last summer?" she continued.
"She was," answered Aunt Agnes in a stern tone.
"Then you will be able to tell me if it is Mr. Dobbs or Dobson of Philadelphia, who is engaged to our Miss Bentley. I wrote it Dobbs, as seeming rather more distinguished. I agree with Mr. Spence that monosyllables are the most sympathetic."
"I am very sorry to say his name is Dobson," I answered.
Miss Kingsley sighed. "What a pity! Mere accuracy and art come so often into collision that it is difficult at times for us artists to do justice to both. I expended much thought on that item."
I felt greatly puzzled. It was evident she took it for granted that I knew who she was. But Aunt Agnes in attempting to enlighten me made my confusion all the greater.
"I presume, Virginia, that you are aware that Miss Kingsley is 'Alpha'?"
"'Alpha'?" I faltered.
"You must certainly have often read her column in the 'Sunday Mercury'?"
I looked embarrassed, for I never had. But the source of the item which had appeared about me in that newspaper was now apparent.
Miss Kingsley blushed, and giggled convulsively. "No offence. Quite natural, I'm sure. You have much better things to do than to read my articles, Miss Virginia. I only thought you might have happened to read Mr. Spence's 'Sonnet to Alpha' in our last issue."
I was obliged to admit that I had not; and feeling that it was as well to make a clean breast of my ignorance, I acknowledged that I had never heard of Mr. Spence.
Miss Kingsley gave a little gasp, and looked amused.
"Virginia! I am astonished," exclaimed Aunt Agnes. "Your father gave me to understand that you had been spending a portion of the summer in self-improvement. Mr. Spence is one of the most original thinkers in the community. I cannot believe it possible that you have never heard of him."
"Perhaps Miss Virginia may have read some of his poems or philosophy without knowing the author," suggested Miss Kingsley. "You must surely have heard of his 'Essay on the Economy of Speech,' which in my opinion is the most sympathetic thing he has done."
"One of the most valuable contributions to the literature of pure thought that we have had in many years," said Aunt Agnes.
I shook my head.
"Permit me," said Miss Kingsley, fumbling in a little reticule on her lap and taking therefrom one of several cards, which she handed to me.
"This is a schedule of his new course of lectures on Moderation. He regards moderation as the most valuable virtue of our civilization, and is devoting his life to the promulgation of its importance."
The printed card read as follows: —
"They must be very interesting," said I. It was something at any rate to get a peep into the charmèd circle, even if I were too illiterate to share its membership; and I was eager to know more of the poet-philosopher, as I rightly judged him to be from Miss Kingsley's words.
"They are eminently suggestive," said she.
"You know him well I suppose."
"Mr. Spence? Yes. If I may say so," she simpered, with a rapid movement of her eyes, "your aunt and I were among the first to find him out."
"Is he young?"
"Just thirty. He celebrated his birthday only a fortnight ago. It was on that occasion that his 'Sonnet to Alpha' first saw the light."
"Is he good-looking?" I inquired somewhat ill advisedly, for Aunt Agnes made a gesture of impatience.
"His face is intellectual rather than handsome," answered Miss Kingsley. "Its expression is very striking and versatile. Fine, piercing eyes and waving hair, which he wears long. An intense individuality. But I should scarcely call him beautiful; interesting and highly sympathetic in appearance seems to me a more accurate description."
"If you mean by 'good-looking' to inquire if he is a fop, Virginia, you had better be undeceived on that score at once," said Aunt Agnes, with a toss of her head. "I don't suppose Mr. Spence has ever danced the German in his life."
"He is very particular about late hours," said Miss Kingsley; "that is a part of his system. He believes in moderation in all things, sleep as well as the contrary. He almost invariably retires before eleven, but he rises after eight hours of rest. He considers either more or less as deleterious to health. I am inclined to think though, if Miss Harlan will excuse my correcting her," she continued turning to Aunt Agnes, "that he has once or twice in his life danced the German; for he has told me that in order to develop his theory intelligently he has been obliged to study extremes. The happy mean cannot of course be estimated so intelligently by one who is without personal experience of the overmuch or undermuch he reprobates. Those are his own phrases for expressing excess or undue limitation, and to me they seem exquisite specimens of nomenclature. But as I was saying, Mr. Spence has in the course of his investigations sampled, if I may so speak, almost every sensation or series of sensations to which human nature is susceptible. For instance, he once spent the night in a tomb, so as to experience what he has so exquisitely styled in a poem on the subject 'the extremity of doleful comprehension.' You were alluding to the lines only yesterday, Miss Harlan."
"They are Miltonic in their grim power," said Aunt Agnes.
"Then again, he lived upon dog and horse during the time of the Commune at Paris. He says it was worth the experience of an ordinary lifetime as illustrating the crucial test of discomfort. So in like manner he has experienced the extremes of luxury and pleasure. I have been given to understand that he even felt it his duty to intoxicate himself upon one occasion, in order to be able to demolish more conclusively the arguments of either form of intemperance; for he considers total abstinence as almost, if not quite, on a level with over indulgence. One's instinct of course shrinks at first from the idea of a deliberate clouding of the senses being ever pardonable, but the more one examines the matter the more innocent does it appear; and I freely admit that I have come to regard an offence against morals committed in the interest of science as not only excusable, but in some cases a positive duty."
"But," said Aunt Agnes, taking up the thread of her previous remark for my further edification, "however