That afternoon the four of us sat at a table in the Casino together.The Casino,as every one knows,is a place to amuse yourself.If you have a duty,a mission,or an aspiration,you do not take it there with you,it would be so obviously out of place;if poverty is ahead of you,you forget it;if you have brains,you hasten to conceal them;they would be a serious encumbrance.
There was a bubbling of conversation,a rustle and flutter such as there always is where there are many women.All the place was gay with flowers and with gowns as bright as the flowers.I remembered the apprehensions of my sister,and studied Leroy's wife to see how she fitted into this highly colored picture.She was the only woman in the room who seemed to wear draperies.The jaunty slash and cut of fashionable attire were missing in the long brown folds of cloth that enveloped her figure.I felt certain that even from Jessica's standpoint she could not be called a guy.
Picturesque she might be,past the point of convention,but she was not ridiculous.
"Judith takes all this very seriously,"said Leroy,laughingly."I suppose she would take even Paris seriously."His wife smiled over at him."Leroy says I am melancholy,"she said,softly;"but I am always telling him that I am happy.He thinks I am melancholy be-cause I do not laugh.I got out of the way of it by being so much alone.You only laugh to let some one else know you are pleased.When you are alone there is no use in laughing.It would be like explain-ing something to yourself.""You are a philosopher,Judith.Mr.
Max Müller would like to know you."
"Is he a friend of yours,dear?"
Leroy blushed,and I saw Jessica curl her lip as she noticed the blush.She laid her hand on Mrs.Brainard's arm.
"Have you always been very much alone?"she inquired.
"I was born on the ranch,you know;
and father was not fond of leaving it.In-deed,now he says he will never again go out of sight of it.But you can go a long journey without doing that;for it lies on a plateau in the valley,and it can be seen from three different mountain passes.
Mother died there,and for that reason and others --father has had a strange life --he never wanted to go away.He brought a lady from Pennsylvania to teach me.She had wonderful learning,but she didn't make very much use of it.I thought if Ihad learning I would not waste it reading books.I would use it to --to live with.
Father had a library,but I never cared for it.He was forever at books too.Of course,"she hastened to add,noticing the look of mortification deepen on her hus-band's face,"I like books very well if there is nothing better at hand.But I always said to Mrs.Windsor --it was she who taught me --why read what other folk have been thinking when you can go out and think yourself?Of course one prefers one's own thoughts,just as one prefers one's own ranch,or one's own father.""Then you are sure to like New York when you go there to live,"cried Jessica;"for there you will find something to make life entertaining all the time.No one need fall back on books there.""I'm not sure.I'm afraid there must be such dreadful crowds of people.Of course I should try to feel that they were all like me,with just the same sort of fears,and that it was ridiculous for us to be afraid of each other,when at heart we all meant to be kind."Jessica fairly wrung her hands."Hea-vens!"she cried."I said you would like New York.I am afraid,my dear,that it will break your heart!""Oh,"said Mrs.Brainard,with what was meant to be a gentle jest,"no one can break my heart except Leroy.I should not care enough about any one else,you know."The compliment was an exquisite one.
I felt the blood creep to my own brain in a sort of vicarious rapture,and I avoided looking at Leroy lest he should dislike to have me see the happiness he must feel.
The simplicity of the woman seemed to invigorate me as the cool air of her moun-tains might if it blew to me on some bright dawn,when I had come,fevered and sick of soul,from the city.
When we were alone,Jessica said to me:
"That man has too much vanity,and he thinks it is sensitiveness.He is going to imagine that his wife makes him suffer.
There's no one so brutally selfish as your sensitive man.He wants every one to live according to his ideas,or he immediately begins suffering.That friend of yours hasn't the courage of his convictions.He is going to be ashamed of the very qualities that made him love his wife."There was a hop that night at the hotel,quite an unusual affair as to elegance,given in honor of a woman from New York,who wrote a novel a month.
Mrs.Brainard looked so happy that night when she came in the parlor,after the music had begun,that I felt a moisture gather in my eyes just because of the beauty of her joy,and the forced vivacity of the women about me seemed suddenly coarse and insincere.Some wonderful red stones,brilliant as rubies,glittered in among the diaphanous black driftings of her dress.
She asked me if the stones were not very pretty,and said she gathered them in one of her mountain river-beds.
"But the gown?"I said."Surely,you do not gather gowns like that in river-beds,or pick them off mountain-pines?""But you can get them in Denver.Father always sent to Denver for my finery.He was very particular about how I looked.
You see,I was all he had --"She broke off,her voice faltering.
