THE COMPLETE NOVELS OF MARK TWAIN - 12 Books in One Edition. Марк Твен

      It puzzled him not a little that all his fascinations seemed to go for so little with Laura; it was beyond his experience with women. Sometimes Laura was exceedingly kind and petted him a little, and took the trouble to exert her powers of pleasing, and to entangle him deeper and deeper. But this, it angered him afterwards to think, was in private; in public she was beyond his reach, and never gave occasion to the suspicion that she had any affair with him. He was never permitted to achieve the dignity of a serious flirtation with her in public.

      “Why do you treat me so?” he once said, reproachfully.

      “Treat you how?” asked Laura in a sweet voice, lifting her eyebrows.

      “You know well enough. You let other fellows monopolize you in society, and you are as indifferent to me as if we were strangers.”

      “Can I help it if they are attentive, can I be rude? But we are such old friends, Mr. Brierly, that I didn’t suppose you would be jealous.”

      “I think I must be a very old friend, then, by your conduct towards me. By the same rule I should judge that Col. Selby must be very new.”

      Laura looked up quickly, as if about to return an indignant answer to such impertinence, but she only said, “Well, what of Col. Selby, sauce-box?”

      “Nothing, probably, you’ll care for. Your being with him so much is the town talk, that’s all?”

      “What do people say?” asked Laura calmly.

      “Oh, they say a good many things. You are offended, though, to have me speak of it?”

      “Not in the least. You are my true friend. I feel that I can trust you. You wouldn’t deceive me, Harry?” throwing into her eyes a look of trust and tenderness that melted away all his petulance and distrust. “What do they say?”

      “Some say that you’ve lost your head about him; others that you don’t care any more for him than you do for a dozen others, but that he is completely fascinated with you and about to desert his wife; and others say it is nonsense to suppose you would entangle yourself with a married man, and that your intimacy only arises from the matter of the cotton, claims, for which he wants your influence with Dilworthy. But you know everybody is talked about more or less in Washington. I shouldn’t care; but I wish you wouldn’t have so much to do with Selby, Laura,” continued Harry, fancying that he was now upon such terms that his, advice, would be heeded.

      “And you believed these slanders?”

      “I don’t believe anything against you, Laura, but Col. Selby does not mean you any good. I know you wouldn’t be seen with him if you knew his reputation.”

      “Do you know him?” Laura asked, as indifferently as she could.

      “Only a little. I was at his lodgings’ in Georgetown a day or two ago, with Col. Sellers. Sellers wanted to talk with him about some patent remedy he has, Eye Water, or something of that sort, which he wants to introduce into Europe. Selby is going abroad very soon.”

      Laura started; in spite of her self-control.

      “And his wife! — Does he take his family? Did you see his wife?”

      “Yes. A dark little woman, rather worn — must have been pretty once though. Has three or four children, one of them a baby. They’ll all go of course. She said she should be glad enough to get away from Washington. You know Selby has got his claim allowed, and they say he has had a run of luck lately at Morrissey’s.”

      Laura heard all this in a kind of stupor, looking straight at Harry, without seeing him. Is it possible, she was thinking, that this base wretch, after all his promises, will take his wife and children and leave me? Is it possible the town is saying all these things about me? And a look of bitterness coming into her face — does the fool think he can escape so?

      “You are angry with me, Laura,” said Harry, not comprehending in the least what was going on in her mind.

      “Angry?” she said, forcing herself to come back to his presence. “With you? Oh no. I’m angry with the cruel world, which, pursues an independent woman as it never does a man. I’m grateful to you Harry; I’m grateful to you for telling me of that odious man.”

      And she rose from her chair and gave him her pretty hand, which the silly fellow took, and kissed and clung to. And he said many silly things, before she disengaged herself gently, and left him, saying it was time to dress, for dinner.

      And Harry went away, excited, and a little hopeful, but only a little. The happiness was only a gleam, which departed and left him thoroughly miserable. She never would love him, and she was going to the devil, besides. He couldn’t shut his eyes to what he saw, nor his ears to what he heard of her.

      What had come over this thrilling young lady-killer? It was a pity to see such a gay butterfly broken on a wheel. Was there something good in him, after all, that had been touched? He was in fact madly in love with this woman.

      It is not for us to analyze the passion and say whether it was a worthy one. It absorbed his whole nature and made him wretched enough. If he deserved punishment, what more would you have? Perhaps this love was kindling a new heroism in him.

      He saw the road on which Laura was going clearly enough, though he did not believe the worst he heard of her. He loved her too passionately to credit that for a moment. And it seemed to him that if he could compel her to recognize her position, and his own devotion, she might love him, and that he could save her. His love was so far ennobled, and become a very different thing from its beginning in Hawkeye. Whether he ever thought that if he could save her from ruin, he could give her up himself, is doubtful. Such a pitch of virtue does not occur often in real life, especially in such natures as Harry’s, whose generosity and unselfishness were matters of temperament rather than habits or principles.

      He wrote a long letter to Laura, an incoherent, passionate letter, pouring out his love as he could not do in her presence, and warning her as plainly as he dared of the dangers that surrounded her, and the risks she ran of compromising herself in many ways.

      Laura read the letter, with a little sigh may be, as she thought of other days, but with contempt also, and she put it into the fire with the thought, “They are all alike.”

      Harry was in the habit of writing to Philip freely, and boasting also about his doings, as he could not help doing and remain himself. Mixed up with his own exploits, and his daily triumphs as a lobbyist, especially in the matter of the new University, in which Harry was to have something handsome, were amusing sketches of Washington society, hints about Dilworthy, stories about Col. Sellers, who had become a well-known character, and wise remarks upon the machinery of private legislation for the public-good, which greatly entertained Philip in his convalescence.

      Laura’s name occurred very often in these letters, at first in casual mention as the belle of the season, carrying everything before her with her wit and beauty, and then more seriously, as if Harry did not exactly like so much general admiration of her, and was a little nettled by her treatment of him.

      This was so different from Harry’s usual tone about women, that Philip wondered a good deal over it. Could it be possible that he was seriously affected? Then came stories about Laura, town talk, gossip which Harry denied the truth of indignantly; but he was evidently uneasy, and at length wrote in such miserable spirits that Philip asked him squarely what the trouble was; was he in love?

      Upon this, Harry made a clean breast of it, and told Philip all he knew about the Selby affair, and Laura’s treatment of him, sometimes encouraging him — and then throwing him off, and finally his belief that she would go to the bad if something was not done to arouse her from her infatuation. He wished Philip was in Washington. He knew Laura, and she had a great respect for his character, his opinions, his judgment. Perhaps he, as an uninterested person in whom she would have some confidence, and as one of the public, could say some thing to her that would show her where she stood.

      Philip saw the