Burned Bridges - Bertrand W. Sinclair (best ereader for academics txt) 📗

The Toast To The Czar,  General Gorloff Responded. The

Club Commodore Answered To That To President Grant. After The Grand Duke

Had Been Informed That He Had Been Elected To Honorary Membership,  He

Responded With A Brief Sailor-Like Speech.

 

On December 22,  1877,  President Hayes Was The Guest Of Honour Of The New

England Society At Delmonico's. Among Those There Besides The President

Were Secretary Of State William M. Evarts,  Presidents Eliot Of Harvard

And Porter Of Yale,  General Horace Porter,  Ex-Governor Morgan,  And

Governor Horace Fairbanks Of Vermont. Mr. Evarts Answered The Toast "The

Day We Celebrate." The Presidents Of Yale And Harvard,  Speaking In

Behalf Of Their Institutions,  Indulged In Good-Natured Contrasts And

Comparisons. In The Old Days,  According To President Porter,  When They

Found A Man In Boston A Little Too Bad To Live With,  They Sent Him To

Rhode Island,  And When They Found Him A Little Too Good To Live With,

They Sent Him To Connecticut,  Where,  Among Other Things,  He Founded Yale

College; While People Of Average Respectability And Goodness Were

Allowed To Remain In Massachusetts Bay,  Where,  Looking Into Each Others'

Faces Constantly,  They Contracted A Habit Of Always Praising Each Other

With Special Emphasis--A Habit Which They Have Not Altogether Outgrown.

 

[Illustration: In The Bright Sunlight The Avenue Glitters With The

Pavillions Of Patriotism. Old Glory May Be Counted By The Tens Of

Thousands; England's Union Jack,  And The Tricolor Of France By The

Thousands. To Forestall The Kaiser The Avenue Is "Coming Across"]

 

The Union League Gave A Reception To General Grant On October 23,  1880,

In The Theatre Of The Club-House. Among Those Present Were Joseph H.

Choate,  General Chester A. Arthur,  Chauncey M. Depew,  General Adam

Badeau,  Colonel Fred Grant,  Peter Cooper,  Henry Ward Beecher,  General

Horace Porter,  And Rev. Dr. Newman. Another Reception To General Grant

Was Given At The Hotel Brunswick May 5,  1883,  By The Saturday Night

Club. Certain Remarks By The Former President And By Roscoe Conkling On

The Subject Of Mexico Were Considered Of Much Significance At The

Time. Both Spoke Strongly In Favour Of The Formation Of A

Mexican-American Alliance. Mr. Conkling Suggested General Grant As The

Logical Leader Of A Great Movement To Aid The Sister Republic In

Developing Its Resources.

 

Nearly Two Thousand Guests Were Present At The Reception Given By The

Union League Club To President Arthur On January 23,  1884. With The

Chief Executive,  Who Arrived About Nine O'clock,  Were Secretaries Teller

And Folger,  Of His Cabinet. After Shaking Hands With The Reception

Chapter 4 (A Slip Of The Axe) Pg 45

Committee The President Wam Carr Had Callously Suggested Meant Neither More Nor Less Than

A Bigger Church,  A Wider Social Circle,  A Bigger Salary. And Thompson

Could See That He Had Been Looking Forward To These Things As A Just

Reward,  And He Could See Too How The Material Benefits In Them Were The

Lure. He Had Been Coached And Primed For That. His Inclination Had Been

Sedulously Directed Into That Channel. His Enthusiasm Had Been The

Enthusiasm Of One Who Seeks To Serve And Feels Wholly Competent.

 

But He Doubted Both His Fitness And His Inclination Now. He Said To

Himself That When A Man Loses Heart In His Work He Should Abandon That

Work. He Tried To Muster Up A Resentful Feeling Against Sophie Carr For

The Emotional Havoc She Had Wrought,  And The Best He Could Do Was A

Despairing Pang Of Loneliness. He Wanted Her. Above All He Wanted Her.

And She Was A Rank Infidel--A Crass Materialist--An Intellectual Circe.

Why,  In The Name Of God,  He Asked Himself Passionately,  Must _He_ Lose

His Heart So Fully To A Woman With Whom He Could Have Nothing More In

Common Save The Common Factor That She Was A Woman And He A Man.

 

Mr. Thompson Had Not As Yet Discovered What A Highly Important Factor

That Last Was.

 

He Managed To Get A Partial Insight Into That Some Three Days Later,  And

The Vision Was Vouchsafed Him In A Simple And Natural Manner,  Although

To Him At The Time It Seemed The Most Wonderful And Unaccountable Thing

In The World.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 5 (Universal Attributes) Pg 46

Afterward Thompson Could Never Quite Determine What Prompted Him To

Follow Sophie Carr When He Saw Her Go Down Toward The Creek Bank. He Was

On His Way To Carr's House,  Driven Thither By Pure Pressure Of

Loneliness,  Born Of Three Days' Solitary Communion Within The Limits Of

His Own Shack. He Wanted To Hear A Human Voice Again. And It Was A

Vagrant,  Unaccountable Impulse That Sent Him After Sophie Instead Of

Directing Him Straight To Carr's Living Room,  Where Her Father Would

Probably Be Sitting,  Pipe In Mouth,  Book In Hand.

 

He Hurried With Long Strides After Sophie. She Dipped Below The Sloping

Bank Before He Came Up,  And When He Came Noiselessly Down To The Grassy

Bank She Stood Leaning Against A Tree,  Gazing At The Sluggish Flow Of

Lone Moose.

 

He Had Seen Her In Moods That Varied From Feminine Pettishness To The

Teasingly Mischievous. But He Had Never Seen Her In Quite The Same Pitch

Of Spirits That Caught His Attention As Soon As He Reached Her Side.

 

There Was Something Bubbling Within Her,  Some Repressed Excitement That

Chapter 5 (Universal Attributes) Pg 47

Kindled A Glow In Her Gray Eyes,  Kept A Curiously Happy Smile Playing

About Her Lips.

 

And That Magnetic Something That Drew The Heart Out Of Thompson,

Afflicting Him With A Maddening Surge Of Impulses,  Had Never Functioned

So Strongly.

 

"What Is It?" He Asked Abruptly. "You Seem--You Look--"

 

He Stopped Short. It Was Not What He Meant To Say. He Tried To Avoid The

Intimately Personal When He Was With Her. He Knew The Danger Of Those

Sweet Familiarities--To Himself. But He Had Blurted Out The Question

Before He Was Aware. He Was Standing So Close To Her That A Little

Whirling Breeze Blew A Strand Of Her Yellow Hair Across His Face. That

Tenuous Contact Made Him Quiver,  Gave Him A Queer Intoxicating Thrill.

 

"Does It Show So Plainly As That?" She Smiled. "It's A Secret. A Really

Wonderful Secret. I'm Just Bursting To Talk About It,  But I Mustn't.

Talking Might Break The Spell. Do You--Along With Your Other Naive

Beliefs--Believe In Spells,  Mr. Thompson?"

 

"Yes," He Answered Simply. "In Yours."

 

Her Eyes Danced. She Laughed Softly,  Deep In Her Throat,  Like A Meadow

Lark In Spring.

 

"That's The First Time I Ever Knew You To Indulge In Irony," She Said.

 

"It Isn't Irony," He Answered Moodily. "It's The Honest Truth."

 

"Poor Man," She Said Gaily. "I'd Be Flattered To Death To Think A Simple

Backwoods Maiden Could Make Such A Profound Impression On A Young Man

From The City--But It Isn't So."

 

She Turned Her Head Sidewise,  Like A Saucy Bird,  Regarding Him With Mock

Gravity,  A Mischievous Sparkle In Her Eyes. Mr. Thompson Had A Long Arm

And He Stood Close To Her,  Tantalizingly Close. She Was Smiling. Her

Lips Parted Redly Over White,  Even Teeth,  And As Thompson Bent That

Moody Somber Gaze On Her,  Her Breath Seemed To Come Suddenly A Little

Faster,  Making Her Round Breast Flutter--And A Faint Tinge Of Pink Stole

Up To Color The Soft Whiteness Of Her Neck,  Up Into The Smooth Round Of

Her Cheeks.

 

Thompson's Arm Closed About Her,  His Lips Grazed Her Cheek As She

Twisted Her Head To Evade Him. That Minor Show Of Resistance Stirred All

The Primitive Instincts That Active Or Dormant Lurk In Every Strong Man.

He Twisted Her Head Roughly,  And As Naturally As Water Flows Down Hill

Their Lips Met. He Felt The Girl's Body Nestle With A Little Tremor

Closer To His,  Felt With An Odd Exaltation The Quick Hammer Of Her Heart

Against His Breast. He Held Her Tight,  And Her Face Slowly Drew Away

From Him,  And Turned Shyly Against His Shoulder.

 

"It Is So,  And You Know It's So," He Whispered Hoarsely. "Sophie,  I

Wish--"

 

She Freed Herself From His Embrace With A Sudden Twist. Her Breath Went

Out In A Little Gasp. She Looked Over Her Shoulder Once,  And Up At

Chapter 5 (Universal Attributes) Pg 48

Thompson,  And A Wave Of Red Swept Up Over Her Fresh Young Face And Dyed

It To The Roots Of Her Sunny Hair. For A Brief Instant Her Hand Lingered

In Thompson's,  Bestowing A Quick And Tender Pressure. Then She Was Gone

Up The Bank With A Bound Like A Startled Deer.

 

Thompson Turned. Ten Yards Out In The Stream Tommy Ashe's Red Canoe

Drifted,  And Tommy Sat In The Stern,  His Wet Paddle Poised As If He Had

Halted It Midway Of A Stroke,  His Body Bent Forward,  Tense As That Of A

Beast Crouched To Spring.

 

The Bow Of The Canoe Grounded. Ashe Laid Down His Paddle,  Stepped

Forward And Ashore,  Hauling The Craft's Nose High With One Hand. His

Gaze Never Left Thompson's Face. He Came Slowly Up,  His Round,  Boyish

Countenance White And Hard And Ugly,  His Eyes Smoldering. Thompson Felt

His Own Face Hardening Into The Same Ugly Lines. He Felt Himself

Threatened. Without Being Fully Aware Of His Act He Had Dropped Into A

Belligerent Pose,  Head And Shoulders Thrust Forward,  One Foot Drawn

Back,  Hands Clenched. This Was Purely Instinctive. That Tommy Ashe Had

Seen Him Kiss Sophie Carr And Was Advancing Upon Him In Jealous Fury Did

Not Occur To Thompson At All.

 

"You Beggar," Ashe Gritted,  "Is It Part Of Your System Of Saving Souls

To Kiss A Girl As If--"

 

The Quality Of His Tone Would Have Stung A Less Sensitive Man. With

Sophie Carr's Lip-Pressure Fresh And Warm Upon His Own Thompson Was In

That Exalted Mood Wherein A Man Is Like An Open Powder Keg. And Tommy

Ashe Had Supplied The Spark.