MR POTTER, OF TEXAS; OR, THE OLD LAG.

Evening Star, Issue 7652, 30 June 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

MR POTTER, OF TEXAS; OR, THE OLD LAG.

BOOK 11. CHAPTER XI, HONOR THY FATHER. E’or a few seconds after this Arthur Lincoln stands in a sort of amazed coma ; then he suddenly mutters “ No, no! impossible ! ” darts into the hotel again, and gazes once more at the register that Lubbins has replaced on the office counter. Mr Potter’s chirography is as horribly distinct as when it first met his vision. He sinks into a seat and faintly, in a broken kind of voice, asks for water ; then, as the obsequious Lubbins hands him the glass, gazing at him in deferential and sympathetic astonishment, fiercely demands “What the devil are you looking at ?” in such a ferocious tone that the servitor addressed instantly remembers he has business in the coffee room, and disappears, After sitting down a moment or two Arthur springs up and gets out of the hotel, but in a minute returns, a horrible fascination having come over him, to inspect the object that has produced such a peculiar effect upon him. Muttering to himself: “ I’ll obey her injunction. Fll see her father,” he comes into the hotel in a kind of sheepish manner, and carefully opening the coffee-room door, glances round the screen that is placed before it—drawing his head back now and again whenever Mr Potter, who is dividing his attention between the ‘ Morning Times 1 and his lunch, raises his eyes so as to make it possible for him to see his observer. The attitude and movements of the Honorable Arthur Lincoln are by no means dignified, his dodging motion behind the screen being very much like that of a cat when on the lookout, for dogs round the corner. If the simile of the cat applies to Mr Arthur Lincoln, the analogy of the dog round the corner may equally suit the Honorable Sampson Potter, of Texas. He is what might be called a mastiff and skyeterrier man ; that is, one with the courage and faithfulness to trust of the first-named animal, but also the unremitting wariness and alert watchfulness of the latter. At present the mastiff is eating ; the skyeterrier asleep. If Arthur Lincoln has had a vague hope that Mr Potter’s elegance of appearance will contradict the peculiar uncouthness of his diction, one glance is sufficient to destroy that idea. In 1882, the man before him conveyed only vulgar barbarism to the mind of his English beholder; though, had Mr Potter arrived in London with Buffalo Bill in 1887, he would have been regarded and worshipped as the acme of wild Western elegance and refinement by the British public, for he is an almost perfect picture of a Texan frontier ranger and cattle-man. His face, which is clean shaven, save a long moustache, is seamed with the wrinkles of hardship and the scars of encounters with both wild beasts and savage men, and has the peculiar red roughness produced by habitual exposure to the burning sun and chilling northers of Texas. His forehead would be that of a trusting, good-natured boy, were it not balanced by a nose of great size, power, and decision, and contradicted by lips of almost stern firmness, and a pair oi eyes which have that clear steel-grey tint common to Brazilian diamonds of the first water and kindly men of very deadly dispositions—eyes that are sometimes mistaken for a little off color until the time of danger and death, when they beam and shine like the brilliants of Golconda. Over these features Mr Potter wears a jet-bUck wig that is not ornamental, it being apparently of frontier make, as it has hairs of several degrees of coarseness in its locks, and is so badly fashioned or carelessly put on that it allows some of Potter’s own straggling brown hair to show beneath it. The reason of its use is not easily apparent, as the hair it is intended to hide is only as yet slightly grizzled. His suit of black broadcloth, fashioned in South-western fashion, seems too large for his thin, wiry form, for Potter is not a large man ; though Brick Garvey, one of his old companions in the pioneer days of “The Lone Star State,” had once said that “ English Potter ” (hia sobriq, in those times) “never war a man big until he war frightin,’ then he war a giant! ” Two large diamonds ornament his shirt, and another one his finger; he also wears a large Californian quartz abomination of a watch chain, with one little gold coin dangling from it and making it by contrast appear even more clumsy and massive than it really is. A new necktie, white, old-fashioned, turndown collar, and high cowhide boots, most elaborately blackened and polished from toes to tops, and into which his trousers are tucked, proclaim that Mr Potter has made an elaborate toilet upon this gala day, when after four years’ separation he will meet the daughter for whose education he has been willing to sacrifice even the joy of that daughter’s companionship and the pleasure of her presence. Having been compelled to maintain silence for the last eight hours, during which time he Jias left the Cunarder upon which he had this day arrived at Liverpool, and run across England to London, and from thence down to Folkestone, Mr Potter has accumulated a great amount of compressed conversation. The cattle-king’s kindly advances to conversation have not been well recived by the travelling British public, and the frontier appearance and jovial prairie manners of the gentleman from Texas have caused one rural rector to refuse indignantly the offer of his pocketflask, and a prim spinster of severe mien to request the guard “ on no account to permit that red-faced ruffian to travel alone in the same compartment with her.” Consequently the Honorable Sampson has had no one to talk with. He is now, however, making up for lost time on Lubbins, who is gazing open-mouthed at him with a mixture of admiration and terror; for since Arthur’s extraordinary actions upon seeing his name, the head waiter is certain that there is some mystery connected with the gentleman eating lunch in the coffee-room. All Mr Potter’s thoughts being on his daughter, his conversation is naturally upon the same subject. “ Look ’ere," he says, tapping the morning edition of ‘ The Times,’ which lies on the table before him. ‘ ‘ ‘ Fashionable Intelligence.’ Do you see? Marquis de Saint Germon, Lady Longueville, and—by jingo ! —Miss Hida Potter, U. Hess. That’s my darter, sandwiched in between a duchess and a potentate. How’s that for the Potter family?” “ Very ’igh, your honor,” remarks Lubbins, who worships the aristooracy also, and is now beginning to regard the man upon whom he is waiting as a kind of swell in disguise. "And ’ere agin,” remarks the Honourable Sampson, with a flush of joy: “ Look at this —* Movements of Noted Persons.—Lady Saharah Hannerley, accompanied by the Honorable Miss Hethel Lincoln, Miss Hida Potter, the beautiful Hamerican heiress, the Honourable Harthur Lincoln, B. Sidney Van Cott, and Mr Charles Herrol arrived in Paris from Venice yesterday.’ Wonder which of these chaps his following my darter ? Put the gals ahead, the boys won’t be far behind—not in Texas.” “ I think the Honorable Mr Harthur his the one,” says Lubbins, with a chuckle. “’E was halways a running hafter her when your darter was herp a visiting the family.” “ You've a level head, Lubbins. I’ve caught a suspicion of that fact in my darter’s letters. What kind of a chap is the young man, anyway?” says Mr Potter, with a wink, producing a packet of delicatelytinted envelopes directed in a beautiful and aristocratic female hand, But Arthur sees and hears no more of this. He has fled from the horrible desecration. Had he stayed to look a little longer he would have seen another phase in the gentleman he has been studying. After a few more searching questions in regard to the character of the Honorable Arthur, to which Lubbins replies, giving him a rather fair reputation for liberality and all the other cardinal virtues, for the son of the peer has been quite generous his tips, which is the only standard by which headwaiters judge the morals and dispositions of men, Mr Potter rises, looks out of the win-

dow, and says suddenly : “ What’s the damage ? ’’ “ Damage ?” re-echoes Lubbins, not understanding this Americanism. “ Yes ; how much do I owe ? That ’ere boat’s coming in. Hurry, like a stampeded mustang? My darter musn’t be kept waiting for her daddy’s four-year-old kiss.” Thus adjured, the waiter bolts for the bill, while Potter, sitting down to wait for him, gazes abstractedly at ‘ The Times ’ that still lies on the table before him. .Something in one of the advertising columns happens to catch his eye, and the next instant the skye-terrier in him has woke up and is reading the paper. It is the same advertisement that Sergeant Brackett had sneered at half-an-hour before, but Mr Potter reads it over and over again so keenly and eagerly that when Lubbins returns with his account he abstractedly produces a sovereign, and says “Pay yourself !*’ and goes on reading, speculating, and making notes in his pocket book, interlarding his labors now and again with sundry exclamations, such as “ Snakes and tarantulas !” “ Almighty curious !” “Chaw me up !” “This is an eye-opener!” and other kindred Western expressions of excited astonishment. Finally he cuts out the advertisement from ‘The Times,’ and takes the address of the advertiser, which is H. Clarkson Portman, solicitor, No. 33 Chancery lane, W.C., London. He is so engrossed in this that Lubbins, after bringing back a pile of silver for the change, and placing it in front of him, returns fifteen minutes after, and, finding the money still untouched, deftly pockets it, thinking Potter the most liberal man on earth. Mr Arthur Lincoln, having fled from the hotel, remarks: “She said: ‘See my father!’ Great heavens, I have seen him!” and for a moment has a wild idea of bolting to China, India, or any other place as far as possible from the paternal Potter. He hurries down the street toward the express train that is now drawn up on the pier awaiting the arrival of the Boulogne boat. His eye follows the pier to the sea. The Channel steamer is just entering the harbor; his imagination pictures the lovely being who has won his heart; he murmurs : “ She’d reconcile me to any father in the world !” and then gives a kind of unhappy chuckle as he thinks ; “ The Honorable Sampson Potter of Texas will be a very bitter pill for my governor to swallow!” But for all that no more joyously expectant face and wildly-beating heart has ever welcomed that Channel steamer than Arthur Lincoln; and Heaven only knows what joys, and loves, and agonies have burnt recollections into the souls of men and women at that point for partings and for meetings—that platform for good news and for bad news—that place for the tearing apart of hearts, and the wedding together of new ties and affections—that station on the highway of nations—that pier at Folkestone, England. The deck of the steamboat is crowded, for the day is sunny as summer, and the sea unusually calm for the English Channel; and, while waiting for the first rush of hurrying arrivals to pass him, Arthur Lincoln has time to put two ideas firmly in his head. It was not her fear of her father’s refusing an alliance with him, but a fear that he would disdain a connection with her father that had made Ida tell him to first see Mr Potter before she would promise to be his wife. Conscious that he will lose her if he wounds the American girl’s pride in the least, as he squeezes himself across the gangway to the deck of the boat, the young lawyer arranges his method of conducting his case ; which, like most legal expedients, is hardly fair for the party in opposition. As he forces his way on, Sergeant Brackett, of Scotland Yard, is alongside of him. The crowd have mostly landed, and Arthur has no trouble in finding the party, who are not hurrying to the London train, as they intend to remain in Folkestone for the afternoon. Hastily greeting his sister, he says: “ It’s all right, little girl!” which makes tears of happiness come into Ethel’s eyes, and causes the Australian to give his hand such a clasp that he knows the convalescent has entirely regained his strength. Then saying to Lady Annerley how kind she has been to take such good care of his sister; and with a “ Holloa, Van Cott, my boy! Bound for London, eh ? You’d better hurry and catch the train !” he starts for Miss Potter, who is in the rear of the rest. Before he has time to address the American girl, Ethel has run back to him, and mutters anxiously : “Papa! He’s not here—he is angry ! ” “ Not at all. Only too tired to wait for the boat. He expects you all at the villa !” Then Arthur speaks to the party and says : “ I’ve ordered refreshments at the West Cliff, and carriages to take you all out to Channel View, You mustn’t refuse me !” “Of course not. I’ll stay with you a week, old chappie. How is his lordship ?” returns Mr Van Cott, seizing his opportunity, and inviting himself with a lump. “Quite right,” mutters Arthur, who hasn’t intended to ask him, but is in too much of a hurry to discuss the question. Then he caffs out: “ Errol, you know the way; take ’em up to the West Cliff! ” As the detective, standing near the party, hears the name Errol, he steps forward, about to address the young man; but after seeing his face stops somewhat astonished, and consulting his note-book, turns away and says nothing. But his eyes never leave the Australian, and during the next few hours, though Errol does not know it, Sergeant Brackett, of Scotland Yard, is never very far away from him. Ethel’s turning back to her brother has left Errol alone. Lady Annerley has taken her place beside the Australian. Arthur, eager to get a word apart with Ida, suddenly utters: “Van Cott, you take care of Ethel,” hands his sister over to the red-eyed youth, and is beside bis divinity. During these arrangements Miss Potter has stood, as her lover thinks—for he has gazed at her several times—a beautiful statue in grey, dashed with sea-green and white foam, for that is the appearance of her costume, which is some poetic creation of a great artist in Paris. Though the blushes have chased one another over her face in waves of varied emotions, and her eyes, which are full of anxious expectancy, have given him several veiled glances, and her lips have trembled and once or twice opened as if about to speak, to this time she has uttered not a word. Her parasol trembles nervously in her hand as he approaches her, and she says : “ My father ! He isn’t here to meet me also, after four years ? Something has happened to him ?” “I imagine,” returns Arthur, “Mr Potter has mistaken the time of the boat’s arrival,” “ Ah, you have seen him ?” “ Yes.” “Tell me, how is he ? How did be look ? Well ?. Happy ? Joyous as I shall be at seeing him ?” and the girl is about to run for the gangway. “One moment,” says Arthur, detaining her. Then he speaks aloud to Van Cott, who is moving off with Ethel, and remarks: “ Miss Potter has left her satchel down in the cabin. Don’t wait for us; we’ll stay and find it.” Here Miss Potter blushes, and Ethel laughs as Van Cott mutters under his voice to her: “ By Jove that’s a stunner ! Ida hasn’t been off the deck the whole trip.” He hasn’t time to amplify this subject, however, for Ethel, who sees Lady Annerley and her guiding star getting too far away from her, now cries: “ Come on ! Hurry, or we’ll miss them !” and figuratively drags Van Cott off with her, leaving Arthur and Ida alone together. “I think we’ll be able to find your satchel in about five minutes,” says Mr Lincoln, moving toward the cabin door. “Probably in much less time,” returns Mias Potter, dryly, “as I see my maid carrying it off to the boat now,” and then she Wats out: “How could you place me in such an embarrassing position ? Even while you were talking my servant was flourishing it under your very nose. Oh, Arthur ! ” This last is a reproach, but the young man looks so contrite she smiles and say*: “ You would like to see me alone ? ” “ Very much?” “Then I’ll steal two minutes from papa for you. There were only two people in the I saloon the whole trip, and they were seaack—probably it’s empty now,” and she leads the way into the cabin, but as he follows her down the companion way she gives him a look over her shoulder that

makes the Honorable Arthur shiver, and turning around upon him, says with haughty dignity: “You say you saw my father; did he accept your proposal for his daughter?” If the young man had hesitated he would have lost hor, for even in his slight pause of a second the girl’s eyes are beginning to blaze and her breast to throb with indignant pride, and she mutters : “ Why don’t you answer? You despise ” But here Arthur, being a lawyer, and as such accustomed to suppress the truth or disguise it, with sudden inspiration cries: “No! your father did not refuse me ! ” And unable to control himself before this vision of panting beauty, mutters: “ You said tfce man who kissed you married you,” seizes her in his arms. i There is a crush of lace and silk and satin and gewgaws as Ida Potter in one j kiss, two tears, and several blushes becomes | his betrothed. After a moment she draws herself from j him, for there is a noise as of someone ; entering the cabin, and looking up into 1 his face with a trust that makes him | ashamed of his ruse, says: “Arthur, what did papa say to you ? Tell me ! ” “ Well,” returns the young man, dropping his eyes under her glance, “ to tell the—all —exact truth, he said—nothing ! ” “ Nothing ?” “ No; the fact is, I didn’t get a chance to speak to him.” “ You did not speak to him ? ” “I couldn’t, I wasn’t introduced ! ” “ Then you only know his appearance, you don’t know his peculiarities. I had expected in this interview' the truth from you as a man, and you have given me the equivocation of a Imvyer /” Then with reproach in her eyes, but great dignity and nobility in her mien, she continues’: “You have made it necessary for the woman you profess to love to endure the humiliation of telling you with her own lips that her father is a man of but little education, and what you and your class would call no breeding,” Here her voice softens, and she goes on : “ My father is a good man. Don’t mistake me in this; if his education were equal to his heart he might be Archbishop of Canterbury and do honor to the See. As it is you must now appreciate that he is not exactly the man to be the father of an English peeress, which your wife must one day be. You—you are released from your promise of marriage to me !” and turning her head away she utters in a broken voice ; “ Oh, it was a great mistake, my —my coming to England and loving you.” The young man, though much affected, has resolved with legal tact to let her make her speech, reserving the closing argument for himself, and here simply suggests : “ And you forgive me ? ” “Forgive? I have nothing to forgive; only much to regret!” murmurs the girl. “ You regret ray loving you ? ” “I—l regret that I did not have the strength to tell you of the barrier that society, that the world has set between us. At times—l—l have tried to treat you coldly, but it was too—too hard to destroy my one great hope, and I hesitated till—l —I had not the power. But now that you know the truth, the sooner we say farewell the better ! Good-bye, Arthur ! ” The girl turns to the young man whom she had one minute before called betrothed and had hoped to call husband, and tries to bid him farewell, holding out a trembling hand, gasping because she sees he is trembling also: “ Don’t think too unkindly of me, because I could not bear to tell you before! ” She is staggering from him, but he cries after her: “Do you think me so mean, that after I had gone on loving you for yourself, worshipping you for yourself, holding you as the one most noble woman on this earth for your own sake ” She has turned back, murmuring “ Arthur! ” He pays no attention, but talks straight at her, only with more enthusiasm, for ho has the beauty of her face to inspire him. “ That because of any accident of birth or education or refinement in your father, I could ever forget that you are the one woman in all this world that I will make my wife, and failing to gain you—l will wed no other !” “ Don’t speak so,” she gasps. “ Von only make the parting harder,” “ We shall not part!” “ Think of your family ; they will never consent.” “My father already loves you—you are my sister’s dearest friend.” “ But my father !”cries Ida. “ You have your pride of birth, I have my pride also. 1 love, I honor my father. I will become a member of no family that does not honor him also. He is the truest man upon this earth !” And, fired with enthusiastic love, this daughter of uneducated old Potter looks like a princess of light as her beautiful eyes flash and gleam like stars of truth in the gloom of the cabin. Her enthusiasm is catching, for her lover cries also ; “ Then I know my father is man enough to honor him ! Miss Potter ” —here he bows to her with the ceremony he would use to a duchess—“my father to-morrow shall ask from your father the honor of an alliance with his family. Then, Ida, what will your answer be ?” The girl droops and trembles, and perhaps for a moment fights with herself; but love conquers—and, seeing this, he would take her in his arms again, but she stops him archly, saying; “ Wait for my answer till then !” “Must I wait when I know all about your father’s peculiarities—when I heard him talk for an hour before I came to you to get my answer ?” “With my father’s accents in your ears you ask me to be your wife ? You may kiss me at once /” cries Miss Potter, and gives him so loving, true, trusting, and unaffected an embrace that Arthur would have lingered over it for ever, had not a loud, weatherbeaten, tarry voice on deck yelled “All ashore!” So the two ran up the companion-ladder into the sunlight, and on to the gangway, across which no fairer, happier, more lovely creature ever tripped between boat and shore than Ida Potter. Notwithstanding Arthur’s ardent looks, she keeps her countenance very well, till one tar standing by the gangway remarks to another: “ Look at her, Bill ! Ain’t she sweet on him ? Blowed if she ain’t a bride !” And then—oh, the blushes ! (To he continued.)