bookssland.com Ā» Fiction Ā» The American Claimant - Mark Twain (best life changing books txt) šŸ“—

Book online Ā«The American Claimant - Mark Twain (best life changing books txt) šŸ“—Ā». Author Mark Twain



1 ... 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 ... 33
Go to page:
sank to a murmur in the distance, and the earl added: ā€œThatā€™s a trouble with old house servants that were your slaves once and have been your personal friends always.ā€

ā€œYes, and members of the family.ā€

ā€œMembers of the family is just what they becomeā€”THE members of the family, in fact. And sometimes master and mistress of the household. These two are mighty good and loving and faithful and honest, but hang it, they do just about as they please, they chip into a conversation whenever they want to, and the plain fact is, they ought to be killed.ā€

It was a random remark, but it gave him an ideaā€”however, nothing could happen without that result.

ā€œWhat I wanted, Hawkins, was to send for the family and break the news to them.ā€

ā€œO, never mind bothering with the servants, then. I will go and bring them down.ā€

While he was gone, the earl worked his idea.

ā€œYes,ā€ he said to himself, ā€œwhen Iā€™ve got the materializing down to a certainty, I will get Hawkins to kill them, and after that they will be under better control. Without doubt a materialized negro could easily be hypnotized into a state resembling silence. And this could be made permanentā€”yes, and also modifiable, at willā€”sometimes very silent, sometimes turn on more talk, more action, more emotion, according to what you want. Itā€™s a prime good idea. Make it adjustableā€”with a screw or something.ā€

The two ladies entered, now, with Hawkins, and the two negroes followed, uninvited, and fell to brushing and dusting around, for they perceived that there was matter of interest to the fore, and were willing to find out what it was.

Sellers broke the news with stateliness and ceremony, first warning the ladies, with gentle art, that a pang of peculiar sharpness was about to be inflicted upon their heartsā€”hearts still sore from a like hurt, still lamenting a like lossā€”then he took the paper, and with trembling lips and with tears in his voice he gave them that heroic death-picture.

The result was a very genuine outbreak of sorrow and sympathy from all the hearers. The elder lady cried, thinking how proud that great-hearted young heroā€™s mother would be, if she were living, and how unappeasable her grief; and the two old servants cried with her, and spoke out their applauses and their pitying lamentations with the eloquent sincerity and simplicity native to their race. Gwendolen was touched, and the romantic side of her nature was strongly wrought upon. She said that such a nature as that young manā€™s was rarely and truly noble, and nearly perfect; and that with nobility of birth added it was entirely perfect. For such a man she could endure all things, suffer all things, even to the sacrificing of her life. She wished she could have seen him; the slightest, the most momentary, contact with such a spirit would have ennobled her own character and made ignoble thoughts and ignoble acts thereafter impossible to her forever.

ā€œHave they found the body, Rossmore?ā€ asked the wife.

ā€œYes, that is, theyā€™ve found several. It must be one of them, but none of them are recognizable.ā€

ā€œWhat are you going to do?ā€

ā€œI am going down there and identify one of them and send it home to the stricken father.ā€

ā€œBut papa, did you ever see the young man?ā€

ā€œNo, Gwendolen-why?ā€

ā€œHow will you identify it?ā€

ā€œIā€”well, you know it says none of them are recognizable. Iā€™ll send his father one of themā€”thereā€™s probably no choice.ā€

Gwendolen knew it was not worth while to argue the matter further, since her fatherā€™s mind was made up and there was a chance for him to appear upon that sad scene down yonder in an authentic and official way. So she said no moreā€”till he asked for a basket.

ā€œA basket, papa? What for?ā€

ā€œIt might be ashes.ā€

 

CHAPTER IX.

The earl and Washington started on the sorrowful errand, talking as they walked.

ā€œAnd as usual!ā€

ā€œWhat, Colonel?ā€

ā€œSeven of them in that hotel. Actresses. And all burnt out, of course.ā€

ā€œAny of them burnt up?ā€

ā€œOh, no they escaped; they always do; but thereā€™s never a one of them that knows enough to fetch out her jewelry with her.ā€

ā€œThatā€™s strange.ā€

ā€œStrangeā€”itā€™s the most unaccountable thing in the world. Experience teaches them nothing; they canā€™t seem to learn anything except out of a book. In some uses thereā€™s manifestly a fatality about it. For instance, take Whatā€™s-her-name, that plays those sensational thunder and lightning parts. Sheā€™s got a perfectly immense reputationā€”draws like a dog-fightā€”and it all came from getting burnt out in hotels.ā€

ā€œWhy, how could that give her a reputation as an actress?ā€

ā€œIt didnā€™tā€”it only made her name familiar. People want to see her play because her name is familiar, but they donā€™t know what made it familiar, because they donā€™t remember. First, she was at the bottom of the ladder, and absolutely obscure wages thirteen dollars a week and find her own pads.ā€

ā€œPads?ā€

ā€œYesā€”things to fat up her spindles with so as to be plump and attractive. Well, she got burnt out in a hotel and lost $30,000 worth of diamonds.ā€

ā€œShe? Whereā€™d she get them?ā€

ā€œGoodness knowsā€”given to her, no doubt, by spoony young flats and sappy old bald-heads in the front row. All the papers were full of it. She struck for higher pay and got it. Well, she got burnt out again and lost all her diamonds, and it gave her such a lift that she went starring.ā€

ā€œWell, if hotel fires are all sheā€™s got to depend on to keep up her name, itā€™s a pretty precarious kind of a reputation I should think.ā€

ā€œNot with her. No, anything but that. Because sheā€™s so lucky; born lucky, I reckon. Every time thereā€™s a hotel fire sheā€™s in it. Sheā€™s always thereā€”and if she canā€™t be there herself, her diamonds are. Now you canā€™t make anything out of that but just sheer luck.ā€

ā€œI never heard of such a thing. She must have lost quarts of diamonds.ā€

ā€œQuarts, sheā€™s lost bushels of them. Itā€™s got so that the hotels are superstitious about her. They wonā€™t let her in. They think there will be a fire; and besides, if sheā€™s there it cancels the insurance. Sheā€™s been waning a little lately, but this fire will set her up. She lost $60,000 worth last night.ā€

ā€œI think sheā€™s a fool. If I had $60,000 worth of diamonds I wouldnā€™t trust them in a hotel.ā€

ā€œI wouldnā€™t either; but you canā€™t teach an actress that. This oneā€™s been burnt out thirty-five times. And yet if thereā€™s a hotel fire in San Francisco to-night sheā€™s got to bleed again, you mark my words. Perfect ass; they say sheā€™s got diamonds in every hotel in the country.ā€

When they arrived at the scene of the fire the poor old earl took one glimpse at the melancholy morgue and turned away his face overcome by the spectacle. He said:

ā€œIt is too true, Hawkinsā€”recognition is impossible, not one of the five could be identified by its nearest friend. You make the selection, I canā€™t bear it.ā€

ā€œWhich one had I betterā€”ā€

ā€œOh, take any of them. Pick out the best one.ā€

However, the officers assured the earlā€”for they knew him, everybody in Washington knew himā€”that the position in which these bodies were found made it impossible that any one of them could be that of his noble young kinsman. They pointed out the spot where, if the newspaper account was correct, he must have sunk down to destruction; and at a wide distance from this spot they showed him where the young man must have gone down in case he was suffocated in his room; and they showed him still a third place, quite remote, where he might possibly have found his death if perchance he tried to escape by the side exit toward the rear. The old Colonel brushed away a tear and said to Hawkins:

ā€œAs it turns out there was something prophetic in my fears. Yes, itā€™s a matter of ashes. Will you kindly step to a grocery and fetch a couple more baskets?ā€

Reverently they got a basket of ashes from each of those now hallowed spots, and carried them home to consult as to the best manner of forwarding them to England, and also to give them an opportunity to ā€œlie in state,ā€ā€”a mark of respect which the colonel deemed obligatory, considering the high rank of the deceased.

They set the baskets on the table in what was formerly the library, drawing-room and workshopā€”now the Hall of Audienceā€”and went up stairs to the lumber room to see if they could find a British flag to use as a part of the outfit proper to the lying in state. A moment later, Lady Rossmore came in from the street and caught sight of the baskets just as old Jinny crossed her field of vision. She quite lost her patience and said:

ā€œWell, what will you do next? What in the world possessed you to clutter up the parlor table with these baskets of ashes?ā€

ā€œAshes?ā€ And she came to look. She put up her hands in pathetic astonishment. ā€œWell, I never see de like!ā€

ā€œDidnā€™t you do it?ā€

ā€œWho, me? Clah to goodness itā€™s de fust time Iā€™ve sot eyes on ā€˜em, Miss Polly. Datā€™s Danā€™l. Dat ole moke is losinā€™ his mine.ā€

But it wasnā€™t Danā€™l, for he was called, and denied it.

ā€œDey ainā€™t no way to ā€˜splain dat. Wen hitā€™s one er dese-yer common ā€˜currences, a body kin reckon maybe de catā€”ā€

ā€œOh!ā€ and a shudder shook Lady Rossmore to her foundations. ā€œI see it all. Keep away from themā€”theyā€™re his.ā€

ā€œHis, mā€™ lady?ā€

ā€œYesā€”your young Marse Sellers from England thatā€™s burnt up.ā€

She was alone with the ashesā€”alone before she could take half a breath. Then she went after Mulberry Sellers, purposing to make short work with his program, whatever it might be; ā€œfor,ā€ said she, ā€œwhen his sentimentals are up, heā€™s a numskull, and thereā€™s no knowing what extravagance heā€™ll contrive, if you let him alone.ā€ She found him. He had found the flag and was bringing it. When she heard that his idea was to have the remains ā€œlie in state, and invite the government and the public,ā€ she broke it up. She said:

ā€œYour intentions are all rightā€”they always areā€”you want to do honour to the remains, and surely nobody can find any fault with that, for he was your kin; but you are going the wrong way about it, and you will see it yourself if you stop and think. You canā€™t file around a basket of ashes trying to look sorry for it and make a sight that is really solemn, because the solemner it is, the more it isnā€™tā€”anybody can see that. It would be so with one basket; it would be three times so with three. Well, it stands to reason that if it wouldnā€™t be solemn with one mourner, it wouldnā€™t be with a processionā€”and there would be five thousand people here. I donā€™t know but it would be pretty near ridiculous; I think it would. No, Mulberry, they canā€™t lie in stateā€”it would be a mistake. Give that up and think of something else.ā€

So he gave it up; and not reluctantly, when he had thought it over and realized how right her instinct was. He concluded to merely sit up with the remains just himself and Hawkins. Even this seemed a doubtful attention, to his wife, but she offered no objection, for it was plain that he had a quite honest and simple-hearted desire to do the friendly and honourable thing by these forlorn poor relics which could command no hospitality in this far off land of strangers but his. He draped the flag about the baskets, put some crape on the door-knob, and said with satisfaction:

ā€œThereā€”he is

1 ... 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 ... 33
Go to page:

Free e-book Ā«The American Claimant - Mark Twain (best life changing books txt) šŸ“—Ā» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment