This is section thirty eight of The Gilded Age. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Gilded Age, A Tale of to Day by Mark Twain and Seed Warner, Chapter thirty eight. Now this surprising news caused her fall in a trance life as she were dead, no limbs she could advance. Then her dear brother came her from the ground he took and she spake up and said, oh, my poor heart is broke. The barncastle tragedy. Don't you
think he is distinguished looking? What that gawky looking person with miss Hawkins there, he's just speaking to missus schoonmaker. Such high bred negligence and unconsciousness, nothing studied. See his fine eyes. Very they are moving this way now maybe he is coming here, but he looks as helpless as a rag baby. Who is he, Blanche? Oh? Is he? And you've been here a weak grace and don't know he's the catch of the season. That's Washington Hawkins, her brother.
No is it? Very old family, old Kentucky family. I believe he's got enormous landed property in Tennessee. I think the family lost everything. Slaves and that sort of thing you know in the war, but they have a great deal of land, minerals, mines and all that. Mister Hawkins and his sister too, are very much interested in the
amelioration of the condition of the colored race. They have some plans with Senator Dilworthy to convert a large part of their property to something and other for the freedmen. You don't say so. I thought he was some guy from Pennsylvania. But he is different from others. Probably he has lived all his life on his plantation. It was a day reception of Missus Representative Shoemaker, a sweet woman of simple and sincere manner. Her house was one of
the most popular in Washington. There was less ostentation than there in some others, and people liked to go where the atmosphere reminded them of the peace and purity of home. Missus Schoonmaker was as natural and unaffected in Washington society as she was in her own New York house, and kept up the spirit of home life there with her husband and children, and that was the reason probably why
people of refinement liked to go there. Washington is a microcosm, and one can suit himself with any sort of society within a radius of a mile to a large portion of the people who frequent Washington or dwell there. The ultra fashion, the shaddy, the jobbery are as utterly distasteful as they would be in a refined New England city. Shoonemaker was not exactly a leader in the house, but he was greatly respected for his fine talents and his honesty.
No one would have thought of offering to carry National improve Movement Director's relief stock for him. These day receptions were attended by more women than men, and those interested in the problem might have studied the costumes of the ladies present in view of this fact to discover whether women dress more for the eyes of women or for
effect upon men. It is a very important problem, and has been a good deal discussed, and its solution would form one fixed philosophical basis upon which to estimate woman's character. We are inclined to take a medium ground and of her that woman dresses to please herself and in obedience to a law of her own nature. They are coming this way, said Blanche. People who made way for them
to pass turned to look at them. Washington began to feel that the eyes of the public were on him also, and his eyes rolled about now towards the ceiling, now towards the floor, in an effort to look unconscious. Good morning, Miss Hawkins, delighted, mister Hawkins, my friend, Miss Medlar. Mister Hawkins, who was endeavoring to square himself for a bow, put his foot through the train of missus Senator Poplin, who looked round with a scowl, which turned into a smile
as she saw who it was. In extricating himself. Mister Hawkins, who had the care of his hat as well as the introduction on his mind, shambled against Miss Blanche, who said pardon with the prettiest accent, as if the awkwardness were her own, and mister Hawkins righted himself. Don't you find it very warm today, mister Hawkins, said Blanche, by way of a remark. It's awfully hot, said Washington. It's warm for the season, continued Blanche, pleasantly. But I suppose
you are accustomed to it. She added, with a general idea that the thermometer always stands at ninety degrees in all parts of the late Slave States. Washington weather generally cannot be very congenial to you. It's congenial, Washington, brightening up when it's not congealed. That's very good. Did you hear, Grace? Mister Hawkins says it's congenial when it's not congealed. What is? Dear? Said Grace, who was talking with Laura. The conversation was
now finely under way. Washington launched out an observation of his own. Did you see those Japs, miss Levitt? Oh? Yes, aren't they queer? But so high bred? So picturesque. Do you think that color makes any difference? Mister Hawkins, I used to be so prejudiced against color, did you I never was? I used to think my old mammy was handsome. How interesting your life must have been. I should like
to hear about it. Washington was about settling himself into his narrative style when missus General mc fingle caught his eye. Have you been at the capital to day, mister Hawkins? Washington had not. Is anything uncommon going on? But they say it was very exciting the Alabama business. You know, a General Suttler of Massachusetts defied England, and they say he wants war. He wants to make himself conspicuous. More like, said Laura, he always, you have noticed talks with one
eye on the gallery while the other is on the speaker. Well, my husband says, it's nonsense to talk of war and wicked. He knows what war is. If we do have war, I hope it will be for the patriots of Cuba. Don't you think we want Cuba, mister Hawkins, I think we wanted bad, said Washington. And Santo Domingo Senator Dilworthy says, we are bound to extend our religion over the isles of the sea. We've got to round out our territory.
And Washington's further observations were broken off by Laura, who whisked him off to another part of the room and reminded him that they must make their adieu. How stupid and tiresome these people are, she said, let's go. They were turning to say good bye to the hostess when Laura's attention was arrested by the sight of a gentleman who was just speaking to missus schoonmaker. For a second,
her heart stopped beating. He was a handsome man of forty and perhaps more, with grayish hair and whiskers, and he walked with a cane as if he were slightly lame. He might be less than forty, for his face was worn into hard lines, and he was pale. No, it could not be, she said to herself, it is only a resemblance. But as the gentleman turned and she saw his full face, Laura put out her hand and clutched Washington's arm to prevent herself from falling. Washington, who was
not minding anything as usual, looked round in wonder. Laura's eyes were blazing fire and hatred. He had never seen her look so before, and her face was livid. Why what is it, sis, Your face is as white as paper. It's he, it's he, come, come, She dragg him away. It's who, asked Washington when they had gained the carriage. It's nobody. It's nothing, did I say? He? I was faint with the heat. Don't mention it. Don't you speak
of it, she added, earnestly, grasping his arm. When she had gained her room, she went to the glass and saw a pallid and haggard face. My god, she cried, this will never do. I should have killed him if I could. The scoundrel still lives and dares to come here. I ought to kill him. He has no right to live. How I hate him, and yet I loved him. Oh, heavens, how I did love that man? And why didn't he kill me? He might better, he did kill all that was good in me. Oh, but he shall not escape.
He shall not escape this time. He may have forgotten. He will find that a woman's hate doesn't forget the law. What would the law do but protect him and make me an outcast? How all Washington would gather up its virtuous skirts and avoid me if it knew. I wonder if he hates me as I do him. So Laura raved in tears and in rage by turns tossed in a tumult of passion, which she gave way to with little effort to control. A servant came to summon her
to dinner. She had a headache. The hour came for the president's reception, She had a raving headache, and the senator must go without her. That night of agony was like another night. She recalled how vividly it all came back to her. And at that time she remembered, she thought she might be mistaken. He might come back to her. Perhaps he loved her a little after all. Now she knew he did not. Now she knew he was a cold blooded scoundrel, without pity, never a word in all
these years she had hoped he was dead. Did his wife live, she wondered. She caught at that, and it gave a new current to her thoughts. Perhaps, after all, she must see him. She could not live without seeing him. Would he smile as in the old days when she loved him so? Or would he sneer as when she last saw him? If he looked so, she hated him. If he should call her Laura darling and look so,
she must find him. She must end her doubts. Laura kept her room for two days on one excuse, in another, a nervous headache, a cold to the great anxiety of the senator's household. Callers who went away said she had been too gay. They did not say fast, though some of them may have thought it. One so conspicuous and successful in society as Laura could not be out of the way two days without remarks being made, and not
all of them complimentary. When she came down, she appeared as usual, a little pale, maybe, but unchanged in manner. If there were any deepened blinds about the eyes, they had been concealed her course of action was quite determined. At breakfast, she asked if any one had heard any unusual noise during the night. Nobody had. Washington never heard any noise of any kind after his eyes were shut. Some people thought he never did when they were open either.
Senator Dilworthy said he had come in late. He was detained in a little consultation after the Congressional Prayer meeting. Perhaps it was his entrance. No, Laura said she heard that it was later. She might have been nervous, but she fancied somebody was trying to get into the house. Mister Brierly humorously suggested that it might be as none of the members were occupied in night session. The Senator frowned and said he did not like to hear that
kind of newspaper slang. There might be burglars about. Laura said that very likely it was only her nervousness, but she thought she would feel safer if Washington would let her take one of his pistols. Washington brought her one of his revolvers and instructed her in the art of loading and firing it. During the morning, Laura drove down to missus Shoemaker's to pay a friendly call. Your receptions are always delightful, she said to that lady. The pleasant
people all seem to come here. It's pleasant to hear you say so, Miss Hawkins, I believe my friends like to come here. Though society in Washington is mixed, we have a little of everything, I suppose, though you don't see much of the old rebel element, said Laura with a smile. If this seemed to missus Shoemaker a singular remark for a lady to make who was meeting rebels in society every day, she did not express it in any way, but only said, you know, we don't say
rebel any more. Before we came to Washington, I thought rebels would look unlike other people. I find we are very much alike, and that kindness and good nature wear awayed prejudice. And then you know, there are all sorts of common interests. My husband sometimes says that he doesn't see, but Confederates are just as eager to get as the treasury as Unionists. You know that mister Shoemaker is on the appropriations. Does he know many Southerners? Oh? Yes, there
were several at my reception the other day. Among others, a Confederate colonel a stranger, handsome man with gray hair. Probably you didn't notice him, uses a cane in walking, A very agreeable man. I wondered why he called. When my husband came home and looked over the cards, he said he had a cotton claim, A real Southerner. Perhaps you might know him if I could think of his name. Yes,
here's his card, Louisiana. Laura took the card, looked at it intently till she was sure of the address, and then laid it down with no. He is no friend of ours. That afternoon, Laura wrote and despatched the following note. It was in a round hand, unlike her flowing style, and it was directed to a number and street in Georgetown. A lady at Senator Dilworthy's would like to see Colonel George Selby on business connected with the cotton claims. Can
he call? Call Wednesday at three o'clock pm. On Wednesday at three pm, no one of the family was likely to be in the house except Laura. End of Chapter thirty eight.