Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Way of a Man by Emerson Hough (best motivational novels TXT) 📖
- Author: Emerson Hough
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It was my turn to laugh. "Ah, ha!" I said. "I thought no names were to be mentioned! At least, if Kitty has talked, I shall not betray her. But I knew you directly, as the most beautiful girl in all the city. Kitty said that much."
"Oh, thank thee, kind sir!"
"Then you knew I was a Quaker? Kitty has talked again? I had forgotten it to-night, and indeed forgotten that Quakers do not dance. I said I ought not to come here to-night, but now I see Fate said I must. I would not have lived all my life otherwise. To-night I hardly know who I am."
"Officer and gentleman," she smiled.
The chance compliment came to me like a blow. I was not an officer. I was masking, mumming, I, John Cowles, who had no right. Once more, whither was my folly carrying me? Suddenly I felt saddened.
"I shall call you The Sorrowful Knight," chided my fair companion."
"Quite as well as any name, my very good friend."
"I am not your friend."
"No, and indeed, perhaps, never may be."
Her spirit caught the chill of this, and at once she motioned the edge of the floor.
"Now I must go," she said. "There are very many to whom I am promised." I looked at her and could very well believe the truth of that. Many things revolved in my mind. I wondered whether if after all Kitty had had her way; wondered if this was the mysterious Ellen, and if after all she had also had her way! Ah, I had fallen easily!
"Sir Sorrowful," she said, "take me back." She extended a little hand and a round arm, whose beauty I could fully catch. The long mousquetaires of later days were then not known, but her hands stood perfectly the trying test of white kids that ended short at the wrist.
Reluctantly I moved away with her from the merry throng upon the pavilion floor. At the edge of the better lighted circle she paused for a moment, standing straight and drawing a full, deep breath. If that were coquetry it was perfect. I swear that now I caught the full outline of a red, red heart upon her corsage!
"Mademoiselle," I said, as I left her, "you are Ellen, and you have a heart! At half past ten I shall come again. Some day I shall take away your mask and your heart."
"Oh, thank thee!" she mocked again.
At half past ten I had kept my word, and I stood once more at the Row of Mystery. The chairs were vacant, for the blue coats had wrought havoc there! A little apart sat a blonde beauty of petite figure, who talked in a deep contralto voice, astonishing for one so slight, with a young lieutenant who leaned close to her. I selected her for Tudie Devlin of Kentucky. She whom I fancied to be the "Evans girl from up North," was just promenading away with a young man in evening dress. A brunette whom I imagined to be Sadie Galloway of the Ninth was leaning on the back of a chair and conversing with a man whom I could not see, hidden in the shade of a tent fold. I looked behind me and saw a row of disgruntled gentlemen, nervously pacing up and down. At least there were others disappointed!
I searched the dancing floor and presently wished I had not done so. I saw her once more—dancing with a tall, slender man in uniform. At least he offered no disguise to me. In my heart I resented seeing him wear the blue of our government. And certainly it gave me some pang to which I was not entitled, which I did not stop to analyze, some feeling of wretchedness, to see this girl dancing with none less than Gordon Orme, minister of the Gospel, captain of the English Army, and what other inconsistent things I knew not!
"Buck up, Jack," I heard a voice at my side. "Did she run away from you?"
I feigned ignorance to Kitty. "They are all alike," said I, indifferently. "All dressed alike—"
"And I doubt not all acted alike."
"I saw but one," I admitted, "the one with a red heart on her corsage."
Kitty laughed a merry peal. "There were twelve red hearts," she said. "All there, and all offered to any who might take them. Silly, silly! Now, I wonder if indeed you did meet Ellen? Come, I'll introduce you to a hundred more, the nicest girls you ever saw."
"Then it was Ellen?"
"How should I know? I did not see you. I was too busy flirting with my husband—for after awhile I found that it was Matt, of course! It seems some sort of fate that I never see a handsome man who doesn't turn out to be Matt."
"I must have one more dance," I said.
"Then select some other partner. It is too late to find Ellen now, or to get a word with her if we did. The last I saw of her she was simply persecuted by Larry Belknap of the Ninth Dragoons—all the Army knows that he's awfully gone over Ellen."
"But we'll find her somewhere—"
"No, Jack, you'd better banish Ellen, and all the rest. Take my advice and run over home and go to bed. You forget you've the match on for to-morrow; and I must say, not wanting to disturb you in the least, I believe you're going to need all your nerve. There's Scotch on the sideboard, but don't drink champagne."
The scene had lost interest to me. The lights had paled, the music was less sweet.
Presently I strolled over to Number 16 and got Johnson to show me my little room. But I did very little at the business of sleeping; and when at last I slept I saw a long row of figures in alternate black and white; and of these one wore a red rose and a gold comb with a jewel in it, and her hair was very fragrant. I did not see Grace Sheraton in my dreams. Clearly I reasoned it out to myself as I lay awake, that if I had seen Ellen once, then indeed it were best for me I should never see Ellen again!
If remorse, mental or physical, affected any of the dwellers at Jefferson Barracks on the morning following the officers' ball, at least neither was in evidence. By noon all traces of the late festivities had been removed from the parade ground, and the routine of the Post went on with the usual mechanical precision. The Army had entertained, it now labored. In a few hours it would again be ready to be entertained; the next little event of interest being the pigeon match between Orme and myself, which swift rumor seemed to have magnified into an importance not wholly welcome to myself.
We had a late breakfast at Number 16, and my friend Stevenson, who was to handle me in the match, saw to it that I had a hard tubbing before breakfast and a good run afterward, and later a hearty luncheon with no heavy wines. I was surprised at these business-like proceedings, which were all new to me, and I reflected with no satisfaction that my hot-headedness in accepting Orme's challenge might result in no glory to myself, and worse than that, let in my friends for loss; for Stevenson informed me that in spite of the fact that I had never shot in a race, a number of wagers were backing me against the Englishman. I reasoned, however, that these responsibilities should not be considered by one who needed perfect command of himself. Moreover, although I had never shot at trapped birds, I reasoned that a bird in the air was a flying bird after all, whether from trap or tree. Then, again, I was offended at Orme's air of superiority. Lastly, though it might be the fault of the Cowles' blood to accept any sort of challenge, it was not our way to regret that so soon as the day following.
The grounds for the match had been arranged at the usual place, near to the edge of the military reservation, and here, a half hour before the time set, there began to gather practically all of the young officers about the Post, all the enlisted men who could get leave, with cooks, strikers, laundresses, and other scattered personnel of the barracks. There came as well many civilians from the city, and I was surprised to see a line of carriages, with many ladies, drawn up back of the score. Evidently our little matter was to be made a semi-fashionable affair, and used as another expedient to while away ennui-ridden Army time.
My opponent, accompanied by Major Williams, arrived at about the same time that our party reached the grounds. Orme shook hands with me, and declared that he was feeling well, although Williams laughingly announced that he had not been able to make his man go to bed for more than an hour that morning, or to keep him from eating and drinking everything he could lay his hands upon. Yet now his eye was bright, his skin firm, his step light and easy. That the man had a superb constitution was evident, and I knew that my work was cut out for me, for Orme, whatever his profession, was an old one at the game of speedy going. As a man I disliked and now suspected him. As an opponent at any game one was obliged to take account of him.
"What boundary do we use, gentlemen?" Orme asked, as he looked out over the field. This question showed his acquaintance, but none the less his confidence and his courtesy as well, for in closely made matches all details are carefully weighed before the issue is joined. "I am more used to the Monaco bounds of eighteen yards," he added, "but whatever is your custom here will please me. I only want to have a notion of your sport."
"Our races here have usually been shot at fifty yards bounds," said Stevenson.
"As you like," said Orme, "if that pleases Mr. Cowles."
"Perfectly," said I, who indeed knew little about the matter.
Orme stepped over to the coops where the birds were kept—splendid, iridescent creatures, with long tails, clean, gamy heads and all the colors of the rainbow on their breasts. "By Jove!" he said, "they're rippers for looks, and they should fly a bit, I'm thinking. I have never seen them before, much less shot a race at them."
"Still your advantage," said I, laughing, "for I never shot a race at any sort in my life."
"And yet you match against me? My dear fellow, I hardly like—"
"The match is made, Captain Orme, and I am sure Mr. Cowles would not ask for any readjustment," commented Stevenson stiffly.
"Don't understand me to wish to urge anything," said Orme. "I only wish it so we shall all have a chance at revenge. Is there any one who wishes to back me, perhaps, or to back Mr. Cowles? Sometimes in England we shoot at a guinea a bird or five, or ten." Stevenson shook his head. "Too gaited for me at this time of the month," he said; "but I'll lay you a hundred dollars on the issue."
"Five if you like, on the Virginian, sir," said young Belknap of the Ninth to Orme.
"Done, and done, gentlemen. Let it be dollars and not guineas if you like. Would any one else like to lay a little something? You see, I'm a stranger here, but I wish to do what will make it interesting for any of you who care to wager something."
A few more wagers were laid, and the civilian element began to plunge a bit on Orme, word having passed that he was an old hand at the game, whereas I was but a novice. Orme took some of these wagers carelessly.
"Now as to our referee, Captain," said Stevenson.
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