August 1930
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
385
Sieart to SJeart ¿With Sur Young ¿Readers B y F lo re n c e N y e W h itw e ll ___________________________ _ •°S Î I i f ■è
Blue “ The blueness o f a wound cleanseth away evil” (Prov. 20:30).
f ONSTANCE liked Switzerland. The land of blue skies and bluer lakes—bluer because they were reflecting their own heavens! Afar up on ™ the Jungfrau she could see the blue ice of the glacier and blue cavernous shadows in the deep folds of snow. It was all “ story” to the imagi extremely dainty cigarette and blowing rings with a rather overdone composure as she did so. Added to this, Eleanor was watching the young man beside her through half-shut eyes, which held the, imperturbable, inscrutable and slightly amused expression now in vogue. It was an expression which Constance’ New England aunts were continually reviling; lamenting the fact that it had replaced the girl ish sparkle and vivacity which once characterized the young womanhood of the western world. “ In their day girls used to bubble,” Eleanor had mur mured, in the tone of one intensely world-weary. Eleanor was eighteen! “ It was au fait to be a little bubbling spring—impul sive, y’know,” she had continued, languidly waving her hand. “ Or, better yet, effervescent, like one of those old- fashioned seltzer-water bottles.” “ H ’m! We were certainly more attractive than you half-dead young people,” Cousin Elizabeth had responded briskly. “ Eh bien! You must take us as you find us. Call it the reaction of our generation to the world as it is, since the World War.” And that ended it. Cousin Elizabeth Pepper, with whom Constance had come abroad, had remained in England, while Constance, Eleanor and Eleanor’s mother were “ doing” Switzerland and the lakes. Constance was reading a letter from Cousin Elizabeth, and listening to Eleanor, intermittently. The letter told of a visit to Netley Abbey and was full of the details of the legend of the walled-in nun, and a skeleton recently discovered in the ruins. “ I’m afraid your blood is blue,” Eleanor was heard to remark to “ the princeling,” - as they called the youth be side her. Constance hastily folded away her letter. She was very desirous o f -hearing this young man’s history. It was said to be one of the most fascinating of stories! It had been told in many of the European watering places and resorts that summer. Eleanor had rejoiced openly when the princeling, with his speculative brown eyes, and a slight, feathery, blond down upon his upper lip, had appeared.
“ At last! Something interesting may happen,” she exclaimed to Constance. “ I cannot go about revelling in scenery and galleries, as you do, Connie. But you’re very much ‘all there,’ old dear, even if you are old-fashioned. So cheerio! And let’s go over with the crowd and see what’s going on. W e’re sure to meet him.” They had gone, and they had met him, this young man of whom so many were talking in the gay summer Europe that they knew. They had found him to be a likeable perso , with a distaste for all the flattery that was con stantly offered to him. They liked him, although one of Eleanor’s American girl friends had said: “ Nothing ex citing! He has no pep. Just a lot of ideals— old stuff ! Can you imagine! Never been out in the world—hardly at all! My dear, he said s o ! And he’s interested in Com munism— says it’s a refuge, or something. And that’s that!” . But Constance- admired him for his idealistic tendency and he interested them both. He was unusual and unexpected. So, now, when Eleanor made her jocular attack upon the royal color of his blood, he quickly pulled up his sleeve, and showed a forearm tanned a deep mahogany red, an arm that told of an outdoor life. “ It is not blue, but red like everyone’s,” he asserted positively. “ Coronets' and crowns are in the discard, my friend,” he continued, “and it is hard to find a place in the world today. Good birth is a blunder, and aristocracy an error! Give me muscle and brawn and a bent for some sort of machinery arid I shall arrive. As Russia’s latest ruler, Stalin, says: ‘Industrialization! Electrification! MECHANIZATION ’ !” “ I did not know .you were a Communist.” Thus Eleanor! “ And if I were? What -------” “ All aboard for the glacier!” An American stripling descended upon their secluded corner. “ Aren’t you going?” The princeling turned to Con stance. “ N o !” Eleanor drawled an answer for her cousin.- “ She doesn’t like our idle chatter. When we went up Pilatus, in Lucerne last week, poor old Connie fell into the clutches of Madame Rumor, over there, who proceeded to enlighten her about many of the group. Madame Rumor is our youngish friend— shamelessly young, isn’t she i Must have said to the years Tls ne passeront pas,’ long ago!” And Eleanor was gone on a laugh. The princeling lingered. He admired, and rather won dered at, this American girl, who was in some way that he could hot make out, so different from many of her Own countrywomen. Constance had talked to him a little, about the subject nearest her heart—bringing people to know
native Constance. The sort of story she loved to be part of — even though there were two or three jarring elements. One thing, for example, that she would have wished elimr inated, was the sight of her Cousin Eleanor smoking an
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