Tazewell Republican. [volume] (Tazewell, Va.) 1892-1919, 1909-02-25
EARLY
VICTORIAN
By RTURIEL HINE

"Emphatically." His eyes avoided the
pretty flushed face OF his wife and
swept the wide drawing-room with an
apprising glance. What more do you
want?"
He threw his hands out with a pom
derous gesture that somehow fitted his
stolid British presence as finely as the
light shrug of the shoulder fits the
Frenchman, and his face hardened
into obstinate lines.
But she said nothing in return.
Stung by her pregnant silence, he
went on: I'm a plain city man, with
no pretensiOns! What was good enough
In my fathers time is good enough for
me. l don't hold with the present ridi-
culous fashion in houses. It's simply
an excuse for sQuandering money My
parents lived here and chose the fur
niture, and it's all good of it's kind
Early Victorian, II you like, but solid
and handsome-far better" He
checked himself with an effort under
the sudden temptation TO allude to
the poverty from which he had res
cued his bride but two years since, and
went on hurriedly, with a heightened
NOA' ~ . III 6OOOs AAAEs you IL nave
to make it dol"
But she guessed the trend Of the SEN
tence so clumsily suppressed, and her
eyes narrowed with annoyance as, fol-
lowing his gaze, they rested on a por-
trait on the farther wall, that of a
portly lady in a lavender silk dress,
with smoothly parted hair drawn over
her eyes and bearing the insignia of
her office, q massive silver chatelaine.
which the artist had infinitely repro
duced in detail, perhaps In utter
hopelessness over the hard middle
class face.
Yet, for all that, a certain look Of
pride crept into her sons eyes as he
gazed up at the-socalled!-" of
art"
IF you follow her." he said with a
nod, you won't go far wrongl And
now 1 must be of"
With a third of the money she now
could claim what a life could have
been hers in the little fiat by the busy
gate-what- treasures OF art, what
feasts of intellect! For now she had
the means, she lacked the environ
ment
She thought with a shudder of the
formal dinners" their present style
OF entertainment invariably took, and,
although she loved her husband. she
rebelled in the depths of her Bohe-
milan heart at the life she had vol
UNFAIRLY and even thankfully stepped
into.
But in those days it had meant com
fort not only for herself, but for the
practically dying mother, and the
peaceful assurance to the latter of the
safety of her child after she herself
had passed through the dark valley.
1t had been all for the best.
She pulled herself together with an
effort of courage as her mind ran back
to her mothers death.
After the first shock of her grief she
had given herself up to improving the
gloomy Bloomsbury mansion; picking
Up quaint, inexpensive old chairs, dis
carding the heavier ones, adding
bright, artistic chintzes, and consign-
ing the impossible" curtains to the
depths of the lumber room.
All so quietly and unobtrusively
that her husband from his pinnacle on
the rock of conservatism had hardly
realized the change until this eventful
day.
Then, through the stupidity of a
shopman, fine old dresser had arrived
at the precise moment when Cecil
Armstrong was leaving for weeks
fishing in the north. Explanations had
been precipitated, and the veto had
gone forth.
Anyhow, she had a treasure Of a
cock-that weapon in the hands of a
wife!-and she wondered with a little
smile of amusement, what the prim
figure with the ehatelaine would say
to the modern cuisine
''Extravagant kickshaws, 1 expect"
she said to herself, and, as If in answer
to her thought, an idea flashed into
her mind. comedy of revenge against
that debatable family taste" so COM
piete and alluring that her laugh rang
out in the somber room.
II was a pouring wet evening when
Cecil Armstrong returned to town. The
weather for the last few days had
been unsettled, the fishing bad, and
the first novelty of "roughing it" had
given way to steadily growing dis
gust at the discomfort of perpetually
wet clothes and smoky fires.
He leaned back in the hanson and
gave q sigh Of relief as. crossing Ok