The Call of the Cumberlands

"I have no censorship, of course. I have only the interest of loving

you, and meaning to marry you."

"And I may remark in passing, that you are making no progress to that

end by slandering my friends."

"Adrienne, I'm not slandering. God knows I hate cads and snobs. Mr.

South is simply, as yet, uncivilized. Otherwise, he would hardly take

you, unchaperoned, to--well, let us say to ultra-bohemian resorts,

where you are seen by such gossip-mongers as William Farbish."

"So, that's the specific charge, is it?"

"Yes, that's the specific charge. Mr. South may be a man of unusual

talent and strength. But--he has done what no other man has done--with

you. He has caused club gossip, which may easily be twisted and

misconstrued."

"Do you fancy that Samson South could have taken me to the Wigwam Road-

house if I had not cared to go with him?"

The man shook his head.

"Certainly not! But the fact that you did care to go with him

indicates an influence over you which is new. You have not sought the

bohemian and unconventional phases of life with your other friends."

Adrienne glanced at the athletic figure riding at her side, just now

rather rigid with restraint and indignation, as though his vertebrae

were threaded on a ramrod, and her eyes darkened a little.

"Now, let it be thoroughly understood between us, Wilfred," she said

very quietly, "that if you see any danger in my unconventionalities, I

don't care to discuss this, or any other matter, with you now or at any

time." She paused, then added in a more friendly voice: "It would be

rather a pity for us to quarrel about a thing like this."

The young man was still looking into her eyes, and he read there an

ultimatum.

"God knows I was not questioning you," he replied, slowly. "There is

no price under heaven I would not pay for your regard. None the less, I

repeat that, at the present moment, I can see only two definitions for

this mountaineer. Either he is a bounder, or else he is so densely

ignorant and churlish that he is unfit to associate with you."

"I make no apologies for Mr. South," she said, "because none are

needed. He is a stranger in New York, who knows nothing, and cares

nothing about the conventionalities. If I chose to waive them, I think

it was my right and my responsibility."

Horton said nothing, and, in a moment, Adrienne Lescott's manner

changed. She spoke more gently: "Wilfred, I'm sorry you choose to take this prejudice against the boy.

You could have done a great deal to help him. I wanted you to be

friends."