Floyd Grandon's Honor, Amanda Minnie Douglas [you can read anyone .TXT] 📗

experienced this jealous, overwhelming tenderness for anything human. He loves his mother with all a son's respect, and has a peculiar sympathy for her. If his father were alive he knows they would be good comrades to stand by each other, to have a certain positive faith and honor in each other's integrity. His brother and sisters--well, he has never known them intimately, even as one gets to know friends, but he will take them upon trust. Then there are two women,--the mother of his child, and that affluent, elegant being across the hall. Does his heart warm to her? And yet she might have been mistress here and the mother of his children. The "might have been" in his thought would comfort his mother greatly, who is wondering, as she moves restlessly on her pillow, if it may not yet be.

Floyd Grandon's story comprehends all the rest, so I will give that.

Some sixty years before this, two sturdy Englishmen and their sister had come to the New World, with a good deal of energy and some money. The freak that led them up the river to this place was their love of beautiful scenery. Land was cheap, and at first they tried farming, but presently they started a carpet factory, their old business, and being ingenious men, they made some improvements. Ralph Stanwood, another Englishman, joined them. They placed their business two miles farther up, where there were facilities for docks and the privileges they desired.

William Grandon married, but only one of his children reached maturity. James and his sister Marcia lived in an old farm-house, single, prudent, turning everything into money, and putting it into land. When James died he left his business to his brother and his share of the farm to Marcia. When William died the business went to his son James, except the small share belonging to Stanwood.

James married a stylish young woman who never quite suited Aunt Marcia. They lived in the new village in a pretentious house, and came out now and then to the farm. There were five children, and the second girl was named after the great-aunt, who dowered her with a hundred dollars, to be put in the bank, and a handsome christening robe, then took no further special notice of her.

But she liked Floyd, the eldest son, and he was never weary of roaming about the old place and listening through the long evenings to matters she had known of in England, and places she had seen.

"Aunt Marcia," he said one day, "just up on that ridge would be a splendid place to build a castle. All the stone could be quarried out around here. I wish you'd let me build it when I am a man."

She laughed a little, and took a good survey of the place.

Some days after she questioned her nephew about his plans.

"Bring Eugene up to the business," she said, briefly. "Four will be enough for your purse. I will look after Floyd."

Miss Grandon might be queer and unsocial, but she was no niggard. All the friends of her own day were gone, and she had no gift for making new ones, but her grand-nephew grew into her heart.

His mother watched this with a curious jealousy.

"If she had only taken one of the girls! Marcia ought to belong there."

"Nonsense!" replied her husband. "It would be a dull home for a girl. Let her have Floyd. The lad is fond of her, and she loves him. I never knew her to love one of her own sex."

Floyd was sent to college, but the idea of the castle grew in Aunt Marcia's brain. Towns and villages were spreading up the river, and one day she was offered what seemed a fabulous sum for her old home of rocky woodlands. She was still shrewd, if she had come to fourscore, and offered them half, on her own terms, holding off with the most provoking indifference until they came to an agreement. Then she announced her intention of building a home for Floyd, who was to be her heir.

"The property ought to be yours, James," Mrs. Grandon said, with some bitterness. "Why should she set Floyd above all the rest?"

"My dear,--as if it really made any difference!"

But the mother did look on with a rather jealous eye. Floyd came home, and they discussed plans, viewed every foot of soil, selected the finest spot, had the different kinds of rock examined, and finally discovered the right place for a quarry. There was so much preliminary work that they did not really commence until the ensuing spring, and the foundation only had been laid when Floyd's vacation came around again. Meanwhile, houses below them seemed to spring up as if by magic. The mystery and fame of the "castle" helped. No one knew quite what it was going to be, and the strange old lady intensified the whole.

There was no special haste about it, though Floyd was so interested that he had half a mind to throw up his last year at college, but Aunt Marcia would not agree, and he graduated with honors. Meanwhile the house progressed, and if it did not quite reach the majesty of a castle, it was a very fine, substantial building. Floyd threw himself into the project now with all his energy. They would be quite detached from their neighbors by the little grove Aunt Marcia had left standing. There were walks and drives to build, lawns to lay out, new gardens to plan, but before it was all completed Aunt Marcia, who had been a little ailing for several weeks, dropped suddenly out of life, fondly loved and deeply regretted by her grand-nephew.

Her will showed that she had planned not to have her name perish with her. The house and several acres of ground were to constitute the Grandon estate proper. This was to be used by Floyd during his life and then to descend to his eldest son living. If he left no sons, and Eugene should have a male descendant, he was to be the heir. If neither had sons, it was to go in the female line, provided such heir took the name of Grandon. The rest of the property was left unconditionally to Floyd, with the exception of one thousand dollars apiece to the children.

Floyd was at this period two-and-twenty, a rather grave and reserved young man, with no special predilection for society. And yet, to the great surprise of his mother, Irene Stanwood captured him and rather cruelly flaunted her victory in the faces of all the Grandons. Yet there really could be no objection. She was a handsome, well-educated girl, with some fortune of her own and a considerable to come from her mother.

Mrs. Stanwood and her daughter went abroad, where Floyd was to meet them presently, when whatever they needed for foreign adornment of their house would be selected. They heard of Miss Stanwood being a great success at Paris, her beauty and breeding gaining her much favor. And then, barely six months later, an elegant Parisian count presented a temptation too great to be resisted. Miss Stanwood threw over Floyd Grandon and became Madame la Comtesse.

Essentially honest and true himself, this was a great shock to Floyd Grandon, but he learned afterward that principle and trust had been more severely wounded than love. His regard had been a young man's preference rather than any actual need of loving. Indeed, he was rather shocked to think how soon he did get over the real pain, and how fast his views of life changed.

Meanwhile Gertrude lived out a brief romance. A fascinating lover of good family and standing, a little gay and extravagant, perhaps, but the kind to win a girl's whole soul, and Gertrude gave him every thought. While the wedding day was being considered, a misdeed of such magnitude came to light that the young man was despatched to China with all possible haste to avoid a worse alternative, and Gertrude was left heart-broken. Then Marcia, young and giddy, half compromised herself with an utterly unworthy admirer, and Mrs. Grandon's cup of bitterness was full to overflowing.

Floyd leased his quarry on advantageous terms, and offered to take his mother and two sisters abroad. This certainly was some compensation. Marcia soon forgot her griefs, and even Gertrude was roused to interest. At some German baths the ladies met Madame la Comtesse, and were indebted to her for an act of friendliness. At Paris they met her again, and here Floyd had occasion to ask himself with a little caustic satire if he had really loved her? She had grown handsomer, she was proud of her rank and station and the homage laid at her feet.

The Grandons returned home and took possession of Floyd's house. He went on to Egypt, the Holy Land, and India. He was beginning to take the true measure of his manhood, his needs and aims, to meet and mingle with people who could stir what was best in him, and rouse him to the serious purposes of life, when another incident occurred that might have made sad havoc with his plans.

While at an English army station he met a very charming widow, with a young step-daughter, who was shortly to return to England. Cecil Trafford admired him with a girl's unreason, and at last committed such an imprudence that the astute step-mother, seeing her opportunity, proposed the only reparation possible,--marriage. Cecil was a bright, pretty, wilful girl, and he liked her, yet he had a strong feeling of being outgeneralled.

That she loved him he could not doubt, and they were married, as he intended to return to England. But her fondness was that of a child, and sometimes grew very wearisome. She was petulant, but not ill-tempered; the thing she cried for to-day she forgot to-morrow.

She had one sister much older than herself, married to a clergyman and settled in Devonshire. Floyd sought them out, and found them a most charming household. Mr. Garth was a strongly intellectual man, and his house was a centre for the most entertaining discussions. Mrs. Garth had a decided gift for music, and was a well-balanced, cultivated woman. They lingered month after month, gravitating between London and the Garths', until Cecil's child was born. A few weeks later Cecil's imprudence cost her life. Floyd Grandon came down from London to find the eager, restless little thing still and calm as any sculptured marble. He was so glad then that he had been indulgent to her whims and caprices.

He was quite at liberty now to join an expedition to Africa that he had heroically resisted before. Mrs. Garth kept the child. Announcing his new plans to his mother, he set off, and for the next four years devoted himself to the joys and hardships of a student traveller.

He was deep in researches of the mysterious lore of Egypt when a letter that had gone sadly astray reached him, announcing his father's death and the necessity of his return home. Leaving a friend to complete one or two unfinished points, he reluctantly tore himself away, and yet with a pang that after all it was too late to be of any real service to his father, that he could never comfort his declining years as he had Aunt Marcia's.

He had some business in Paris, and crossing the channel he met Madame Lepelletier. She was a widow and childless. The title and estate had gone to a younger son, though she had a fair provision. She had received the announcement of Mr. Grandon's death and the notice of