Jewel Weed

"Oh, it is lovely. And am I really the only person in the world who has

one?"

"You and Miss Elton." A pang of small jealousy shot through Lena's

heart. It was always and everywhere Miss Elton. "I sent her another, but

of slightly different shape. I am, as you know, a worshiper of beauty,

but all these creations of man's hands are but parodies, are they not,

Mrs. Percival, on absolute beauty? They are like ourselves, the

creatures of a day. Nature herself, in sea and air and woodland,

produces exquisite loveliness, and yet even her achievements are dwarfed

when one stands face to face with one of creation's masterpieces--a

woman."

And Mr. Early made a ponderous bow as he presented his work of art. Lena

was so impressed by this compliment that she wrote it out while it was

fresh in her memory, and when Dick came home, she read it to him. He

gave a great bellowing laugh that grated harshly on Lena's nerves; and

then at sight of her reproachful eyes, he drew himself together and gave

her a friendly pat on the shoulder, affectionate, to be sure, but quite

different from Mr. Early's chivalrous manner, and said: "Thinks you better than his old straight-legged tables, does he? Well, I

should say so! Serves him right for being an old bachelor, and having

nothing but furniture and Ram Juna to illuminate existence. I should

expect that combination to drive a man either to drink or to blank

verse."

"I don't think it is nice of you to swear, Dick," Lena answered

severely, but on the verge of tears.

"Swear, sweetheart? Why, what do you mean?"

"Well, it's almost the same thing to talk about 'blank' verse." Dick

laughed again and went directly to the library without even noticing the

extremely lovely new dress which his wife had put on for his

edification.

Dick's limitations were becoming manifest to young Mrs. Percival. He

might be a gentleman, but she feared that he would never be more. There

was nothing imposing about him. He had lifted her out of sordid want,

but he would not raise her to the pinnacle of greatness. The bland flat

face of Mr. Early and his commanding slowness of movement impressed her

imagination much as a great stone image might its votary. Here was

indeed the truly illustrious. She devoured every floating newspaper

paragraph that concerned Sebastian; for she was still under the dominion

of the idea that greatness in the dailies constituted greatness indeed.

She would have been proud to touch the hem of his frock-coat. How much

greater her elation when, on public occasions, he singled her out and

stalked across the room to utter in loud tones, intended for the ears of

half a hundred, some well-rounded compliment. A conquest of Mr. Early

would have been, for Lena, the consummation of achievement; but she

could not help seeing that his eyes turned more frequently upon Miss

Elton than upon Mrs. Percival--upon Miss Elton, of whom she felt

constant jealousy and abnormal curiosity.