The Rise Of Silas Lapham By William Dean Howells Part 1 by William Dean Howells (inspirational novels TXT) 📖

Were Helping her,  "Some Day

Your Father Will Get Killed with That Mare."

 

"Did He Speed her?" Asked penelope,  The Elder.

 

She Was Named after Her Grandmother,  Who Had In her Turn

Inherited from Another Ancestress The Name Of The Homeric

Matron Whose Peculiar Merits Won Her A Place Even Among

The Puritan Faiths,  Hopes,  Temperances,  And Prudences.

Penelope Was The Girl Whose Odd Serious Face Had Struck

Bartley Hubbard In the Photograph Of The Family Group Lapham

Showed him On The Day Of The Interview.  Her Large Eyes,

Like Her Hair,  Were Brown; They Had The Peculiar Look Of

Near-Sighted eyes Which Is Called mooning; Her Complexion

Was Of A Dark Pallor.

 

Her Mother Did Not Reply To A Question Which Might Be

Considered already Answered.  "He Says He'S Going to Build

On That Lot Of His," She Next Remarked,  Unwinding the Long

Veil Which She Had Tied round Her Neck To Hold Her

Bonnet On.  She Put Her Hat And Cloak On The Hall Table,

To Be Carried upstairs Later,  And They All Went In to Tea:

Creamed oysters,  Birds,  Hot Biscuit,  Two Kinds Of Cake,

And Dishes Of Stewed and Canned fruit And Honey.

The Women Dined alone At One,  And The Colonel At The Same

Hour Down-Town. But He Liked a Good Hot Meal When He

Got Home In the Evening.  The House Flared with Gas;

And The Colonel,  Before He Sat Down,  Went About Shutting

The Registers,  Through Which A Welding heat Came Voluming

Up From The Furnace.

 

"I'Ll Be The Death Of That Darkey Yet," He Said,

"If He Don'T Stop Making on Such A Fire.  The Only Way

To Get Any Comfort Out Of Your Furnace Is To Take Care

Of It Yourself."

 

"Well," Answered his Wife From Behind The Teapot,  As He

Sat Down At Table With This Threat,  "There'S Nothing

To Prevent You,  Si.  And You Can Shovel The Snow Too,

If You Want To--Till You Get Over To Beacon Street,  Anyway."

 

"I Guess I Can Keep My Own Sidewalk On Beacon Street Clean,

If I Take The Notion."

 

"I Should Like To See You At It," Retorted his Wife.

 

"Well,  You Keep A Sharp Lookout,  And May Be You Will."

 

Their Taunts Were Really Expressions Of Affectionate Pride

In Each Other.  They Liked to Have It,  Give And Take,

That Way,  As They Would Have Said,  Right Along.

 

"A Man Can Be A Man On Beacon Street As Well As Anywhere,

I Guess."

 

"Well,  I'Ll Do The Wash,  As I Used to In lumberville,"

Said Mrs. Lapham.  "I Presume You'Ll Let Me Have

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Set Tubs,  Si.  You Know I Ain'T So Young Any More."

She Passed irene A Cup Of Oolong Tea,--None Of Them

Had A Sufficiently Cultivated palate For Sou-Chong,--And

The Girl Handed it To Her Father.  "Papa," She Asked,

"You Don'T Really Mean That You'Re Going to Build Over There?"

 

"Don'T I? You Wait And See," Said The Colonel,  Stirring his Tea.

 

"I Don'T Believe You Do," Pursued the Girl.

 

"Is That So? I Presume You'D Hate To Have Me.

Your Mother Does." He Said Doos,  Of Course.

 

Penelope Took The Word.  "I Go In for It.  I Don'T See

Any Use In not Enjoying money,  If You'Ve Got It To Enjoy.

That'S What It'S For,  I Suppose; Though You Mightn'T

Always Think So." She Had A Slow,  Quaint Way Of Talking,

That Seemed a Pleasant Personal Modification Of Some

Ancestral Yankee Drawl,  And Her Voice Was Low And Cozy,

And So Far From Being nasal That It Was A Little Hoarse.

 

"I Guess The Ayes Has It,  Pen," Said Her Father.

"How Would It Do To Let Irene And Your Mother Stick

In The Old Place Here,  And Us Go Into The New House?"

At Times The Colonel'S Grammar Failed him.

 

The Matter Dropped,  And The Laphams Lived on As Before,

With Joking recurrences To The House On The Water Side

Of Beacon.  The Colonel Seemed less In earnest Than Any

Of Them About It; But That Was His Way,  His Girls Said;

You Never Could Tell When He Really Meant A Thing.

 

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Toward The End Of The Winter There Came A Newspaper,

Addressed to Miss Irene Lapham; It Proved to Be A

Texas Newspaper,  With A Complimentary Account Of The Ranch

Of The Hon. Loring g. Stanton,  Which The Representative

Of The Journal Had Visited.

 

"It Must Be His Friend," Said Mrs. Lapham,  To Whom Her

Daughter Brought The Paper; "The One He'S Staying with."

 

The Girl Did Not Say Anything,  But She Carried the

Paper To Her Room,  Where She Scanned every Line Of It

For Another Name.  She Did Not Find It,  But She Cut

The Notice Out And Stuck It Into The Side Of Her Mirror,

Where She Could Read It Every Morning when She Brushed

Her Hair,  And The Last Thing at Night When She Looked

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At Herself In the Glass Just Before Turning off The Gas.

Her Sister Often Read It Aloud,  Standing behind Her

And Rendering it With Elocutionary Effects.

 

"The First Time I Ever Heard Of A Love-Letter In the Form

Of A Puff To A Cattle-Ranch. But Perhaps That'S The Style

On The Hill."

 

Mrs. Lapham Told Her Husband Of The Arrival Of The Paper,

Treating the Fact With An Importance That He Refused to See

In It.

 

"How Do You Know The Fellow Sent It,  Anyway?" He Demanded.

 

"Oh,  I Know He Did."

 

"I Don'T See Why He Couldn'T Write To 'Rene,  If He Really

Meant Anything."

 

"Well,  I Guess That Wouldn'T Be Their Way," Said Mrs. Lapham;

She Did Not At All Know What Their Way Would Be.

 

When The Spring opened colonel Lapham Showed that He Had

Been In earnest About Building on The New Land.  His Idea

Of A House Was A Brown-Stone Front,  Four Stories High,

And A French Roof With An Air-Chamber Above.  Inside,

There Was To Be A Reception-Room On The Street And A

Dining-Room Back.  The Parlours Were To Be On The Second Floor,

And Finished in black Walnut Or Party-Coloured paint.

The Chambers Were To Be On The Three Floors Above,

Front And Rear,  With Side-Rooms Over The Front Door.

Black Walnut Was To Be Used everywhere Except In the Attic,

Which Was To Be Painted and Grained to Look Like

Black Walnut.  The Whole Was To Be Very High-Studded,

And There Were To Be Handsome Cornices And Elaborate

Centre-Pieces Throughout,  Except,  Again,  In the Attic.

 

These Ideas He Had Formed from The Inspection Of Many

New Buildings Which He Had Seen Going up,  And Which He

Had A Passion For Looking into.  He Was Confirmed in his

Ideas By A Master Builder Who Had Put Up A Great Many

Houses On The Back Bay As A Speculation,  And Who Told

Him That If He Wanted to Have A House In the Style,

That Was The Way To Have It.

 

The Beginnings Of The Process By Which Lapham Escaped

From The Master Builder And Ended in the Hands Of An

Architect Are So Obscure That It Would Be Almost Impossible

To Trace Them.  But It All Happened,  And Lapham Promptly

Developed his Ideas Of Black Walnut Finish,  High Studding,

And Cornices.  The Architect Was Able To Conceal The Shudder

Which They Must Have Sent Through Him.  He Was Skilful,

As Nearly All Architects Are,  In playing upon That Simple

Instrument Man.  He Began To Touch Colonel Lapham'S Stops.

 

"Oh,  Certainly,  Have The Parlours High-Studded. But You'Ve

Seen Some Of Those Pretty Old-Fashioned country-Houses,

Haven'T You,  Where The Entrance-Story Is Very Low-Studded?"

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"Yes," Lapham Assented.

 

"Well,  Don'T You Think Something of That Kind Would Have

A Very Nice Effect? Have The Entrance-Story Low-Studded,

And Your Parlours On The Next Floor As High As You Please.

Put Your Little Reception-Room Here Beside The Door,  And Get

The Whole Width Of Your House Frontage For A Square Hall,

And An Easy Low-Tread Staircase Running up Three Sides Of It.

I'M Sure Mrs. Lapham Would Find It Much Pleasanter."

The Architect Caught Toward Him A Scrap Of Paper Lying on

The Table At Which They Were Sitting and Sketched his Idea.

"Then Have Your Dining-Room Behind The Hall,  Looking on

The Water."

 

He Glanced at Mrs. Lapham,  Who Said,  "Of Course,"

And The Architect Went On--

 

"That Gets You Rid Of One Of Those Long,  Straight,  Ugly

Staircases,"--Until That Moment Lapham Had Thought A Long,

Straight Staircase The Chief Ornament Of A House,--"And

Gives You An Effect Of Amplitude And Space."

 

"That'S So!" Said Mrs. Lapham.  Her Husband Merely Made

A Noise In his Throat.

 

"Then,  Were You Thinking of Having your Parlours Together,

Connected by Folding doors?" Asked the Architect Deferentially.

 

"Yes,  Of Course," Said Lapham.  "They'Re Always So,

Ain'T They?"

 

"Well,  Nearly," Said The Architect.  "I Was Wondering

How Would It Do To Make One Large Square Room At The Front,

Taking the Whole Breadth Of The House,  And,  With This

Hall-Space Between,  Have A Music-Room Back For The

Young Ladies?"

 

Lapham Looked helplessly At His Wife,  Whose Quicker

Apprehension Had Followed the Architect'S Pencil

With Instant Sympathy.  "First-Rate!" She Cried.

 

The Colonel Gave Way.  "I Guess That Would Do.

It'Ll Be Kind Of Odd,  Won'T It?"

 

"Well,  I Don'T Know," Said The Architect.  "Not So Odd,

I Hope,  As The Other Thing will Be A Few Years From Now."

He Went On To Plan The Rest Of The House,  And He Showed

Himself Such A Master In regard To All The Practical

Details That Mrs. Lapham Began To Feel A Motherly Affection

For The Young Man,  And Her Husband Could Not Deny In his

Heart That The Fellow Seemed to Understand His Business.

He Stopped walking about The Room,  As He Had Begun To

Do When The Architect And Mrs. Lapham Entered into The

Particulars Of Closets,  Drainage,  Kitchen Arrangements,

And All That,  And Came Back To The Table.  "I Presume,"

He Said,  "You'Ll Have The Drawing-Room