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Until Death

Holly Copella
Copyright © 2018 Holly Copella

All rights reserved.

ISBN:
ISBN-13: 978-1-947694-13-2
 In Loving Memory of
Michael Wetzel

“Goodbyes hurt the most,

when the story was not
finished…”

Michael & Lynne

Forever
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Copella Books: First Paperback Edition 2018
Cover Artist: Daniela Owergoor
Dani-owergoor.deviantart.com
Model by MJ Ranum
Printed by KDP, an Amazon.com Company

PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents either are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is
entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not
assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 Homecoming
Chapter 2 A Dish Best Served Cold

Chapter 3 Gossip Hour

Chapter 4 All is Fair
Chapter 5 Love and War

Chapter 6 Sitting up with the Dead

Chapter 7 The Happy Occasion
Chapter 8 Friends and Foes

Chapter 9 The Snarling Beast

Chapter 10 The Enemy of My Enemy
Chapter 11 All Bets Are Off

Chapter 12 A View to Die For

Chapter 13 The Good Old Days
Chapter 14 Bridezilla

Chapter 15 The Rehearsal Dinner AKA Get with the Program

Chapter 16 Another Party?
Chapter 17 The Devil Had Blue Eyes

Chapter 18 The Beginning of the End

Chapter 19 Cutting it Close
Chapter 20 Show Time!

Chapter 21 The Love Train

Chapter 22 The Other Side of the Door
Chapter 23 Tequila Sunrise
Chapter 24 Double Down
Chapter 25 The Return of Bridezilla

Chapter 26 WTF?
Chapter 27 Gunnysacks and Cement Shoes
Chapter 28 The Happy Couple

Chapter 29 Third Time’s a Charm

Chapter 30 About Last Night
Chapter 31 Nine-tenths of the Law

Chapter 32 What a Payne

Chapter 33 The Butler Did It
Chapter 34 Everyone’s Got One

Chapter 35 Honor Thy Father

Chapter 36 Cheaters, Liars, and Thieves
Chapter 37 No One’s Above Suspicion

Chapter 38 Butler with No Name

Chapter 39 The Payne Is Back
Chapter 40 Raging Hormones

Chapter 41 Gut Instincts

Chapter 42 A Bitch to Remember
Chapter 43 Keep Your Enemies Closer

Chapter 44 The Lady Is a Tramp

Chapter 45 It’s About to Get Real
Chapter 46 Affir du Cœur

Chapter 47 Bed Sheet Bingo

Chapter 48 Chickens with Their Heads Cut Off
Chapter 49 What the Hell?
Chapter 50 Gut Feeling
Chapter 51 Not Again!

Chapter 52 Murder Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Chapter 53 Busted!
Chapter 54 Raina Days and Mondays

Chapter 55 Butler Knows Best

Chapter 56 Seriously? It’s Still Raining?
Chapter 57 Things That Go Bump in the Night

Chapter 58 Don’t Get Jimmy Love’s Boxers in a Bunch

Chapter 59 She Loves Me Not
Chapter 60 Dinner and a Show

Chapter 61 Amateur Night

Chapter 62 Confession Is Good for the Soul
Chapter 63 Return of Bridezilla – Part 2: The Blushing Bride

Chapter 64 Return of Bridezilla – Part 3: Everyone Loves the Bride

Chapter 65 Return of Bridezilla – Part 4: Swing Low, Sweet Chariot
Chapter 66 A Bitch to Remember – Part 2: The Sleepy-time Memorial Service

Chapter 67 Don’t Get Jimmy Love’s Boxers in a Bunch Part 2: The Night Elana Died
Chapter 68 If I Tell You; I Have to Kill You
Chapter 69 Ultimate Happy Ending

Other books by Holly Copella!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
 Chapter 1
Homecoming
A new, black sports car drove the long, winding back road that
seemed to extend forever before turning onto the private lane. Just
ahead was a well-maintained, stone bridge over a gently babbling
brook. The car crossed the bridge then drove through the imposing,
wrought-iron gates onto the enormous country estate nestled in the
middle of nowhere. It drove up the long driveway, which extended a
quarter of a mile. The private lane was lined with towering, weeping
willow trees, which created more of a tunnel than a driveway. It was
early evening, so the private lane was already dark beneath the
trees.
The car appeared in the clearing before the elegant, two-story
mansion, drove along the circular driveway around the large
fountain, and parked not far from the set of stone steps leading up
to the home. The mansion was more than one hundred years old
and appeared almost medieval. The beveled glass windows on both
levels were arched with a church-like beauty. An attractive young
woman, who barely made the legal drinking age, got out of the
sports car and walked along the stone terrace before the steps.
Raina Steele wore her long, dark hair in a messy ponytail.
Despite her expensive car, she dressed casually in worn jeans and a
black blazer overtop her white tank top. Her ‘not your ordinary rich
girl’ outfit was completed with calf-high black boots that looked like a
feminine version of military boots. She crossed the patio and
attempted to open the main door, but it didn’t open. Raina was a bit
surprised since the door was rarely ever locked, and she hadn’t
brought her house keys home from college. Rather than go around
back to the kitchen entrance, she admitted defeat and rang the bell.
 On the other side of the door, a young, proper looking butler
stood in the foyer before the double doors and kept a close eye on
his watch. The thirty-one-year-old butler, Dane Kingston, was
devilishly handsome with dark brown hair and a clean-shaven face
despite the evening hour. His butler’s uniform was an expensive,
three-piece suit without a crease or wrinkle. His wardrobe was as
impeccable as his hygiene. When the second hand on his expensive
watch hit twelve, a devious smile crossed his face.
“Dane, who’s at the door?” a woman called from the front sitting
room.
Dane unlocked the door while straightening proudly. His devious
smile turned proper as he opened the door to reveal Raina. She
glared at his pleasant smile and became further agitated.
“Good evening, Miss Steele,” he announced almost charmingly
despite that his blue eyes mocked her. “We weren’t expecting you
until tomorrow.”
Raina sneered and pushed past him with annoyance. “Save it for
your adoring fans, bellhop,” she snarled. “Bags are in the car.” She
tossed him the car keys, purposely aiming for his face. “Knock
yourself out.”
Dane shirked back but managed to catch the small key ring,
thankfully containing few keys on the off chance he would have
missed.
“Is that Raina?” the woman from the front sitting room excitedly
called out.
An attractive woman in her early forties appeared from the
nearby sitting room, saw Raina, and squealed with excitement. She
hurried up the foyer steps and happily hugged Raina. Brenda Steele
was a gracefully stylish woman with shoulder-length, raven hair, an
alabaster complexion, and large green eyes surrounded by thick
lashes. Her regal beauty gave her the appearance of royalty, but her
down-to-earth personality was far more humbling.
Brenda pulled away and looked over her stepdaughter. “We
weren’t expecting you until tomorrow,” she announced gleefully.
“What a pleasant surprise!”
 When Brenda magically appeared in Raina’s life more than ten
years ago, Raina wasn’t receptive to the idea of a stepmother. By
her own admission, Raina treated her poorly in the beginning, but
Brenda’s charm and persistence eventually won her over. Her
thirteen-year-old baggage, the son she’d brought with her, was a
train wreck waiting to happen. Raina didn’t want a stepmother, and
she certainly didn’t want a teenage stepbrother. Unfortunately, she’d
taken to her new stepbrother and out of respect for their newly
found friendship, Raina had little choice but warm up to Brenda.
Once she conceded, Brenda easily won her over even if she never
once called her ‘mom’.
“My final exam was pushed back until next week,” Raina
announced and smirked almost deviously. “My professor was
arrested for indecent exposure.”
Brenda gasped dramatically. “Oh, that’s terrible!”
“No, that this is the second time is what’s terrible,” Raina
remarked then eyed her stepmother slyly. “This is what happens
when you send your children to an Ivy League college, Brenda.”
“Don’t start that again,” Brenda boldly announced and offered a
teasing smile. “It’s a fine school. Miller graduated from there, and
he loved it.”
“Of course he did,” Raina remarked matter-of-factly. “He was in
the wildest frat house on campus.” She shook her head. “I still
don’t know how he managed to graduate.”
“Now be nice,” Brenda teased, although she didn’t seem to mind
Raina taking shots at her son. It was all in good fun. Her
stepmother beamed. “I have a little surprise for you.”
Brenda took Raina’s hand and led her into the lounge as Dane
entered the foyer with her duffel bag. He dropped it on the foyer
floor with a plop and was about to step away.
“That goes upstairs, bellhop,” she called out in a gruff tone
without even glancing at him.
Dane sneered, snatched the bag, and headed up the massive
grand staircase. Brenda practically pulled Raina into the front sitting
room where an attractive woman in her early twenties stood
alongside a lanky man a few years her senior.
 Raina stared at the handsome couple with surprise. “Miller?
Alicia? What are you two doing here?”
There was a small, joyful reunion as all three happily hugged.
Raina’s stepbrother, Miller, was only three years older than she was.
He was a handsome man with his light brown hair kept businessman
short and his youthful face clean-shaven. He was a fashionably
snappy dresser, even more so since he’d been dating the beautiful
Alicia, who helped improve his wardrobe. Alicia was as beautiful as
she was intelligent. Her long, golden-brown hair was straight and
silky. Despite not wearing much makeup, her skin was almost
flawless. With her newly acquired tan, she was even more
breathtaking.
Raina wasn’t expecting to see her stepbrother and his girlfriend
this particular weekend. They’d snuck off to the family beach house
in Maui and had been gone the better part of the month. Alicia
grinned and eagerly extended her left hand to reveal a one-karat
diamond solitaire on her finger. Raina saw the sparkling diamond
ring and cried out excitedly. She hugged both again with a little
more enthusiasm. Alicia squealed with delight then clung to Miller’s
lean midsection.
“He proposed last weekend in Maui,” Alicia announced while
bubbling over.
“We wanted to surprise you and Dad tomorrow when he got back
from his business trip,” Miller informed her. “I didn’t expect you
tonight.”
“I wasn’t expecting you either,” Raina announced cheerfully. “I
thought you were staying in Maui until the end of the month.”
“I heard Mom was going to be alone tonight, so we decided to
come home early,” Miller replied.
Brenda playfully slapped Miller on the arm and pretended to
pout. “It’s awful that you’ve been dating this girl almost a year, and
I’ve seen her less than a dozen times.”
“Alicia is busy with college,” Miller insisted. “We don’t get much
time away from her studies. Becoming a doctor is a lot of work.”
Raina waved off the couple. “Eh, I see enough of her at college.”
Alicia playfully smacked Raina on the arm.
 “If you prefer,” Miller announced. “You can always come out with
the guys and me tonight. Nothing too wild, I promise. I’m
practically a married man.” He laughed. “I love saying that.”
Alicia squeezed him affectionately. He leaned down and kissed
her warmly.
Raina rolled her eyes and groaned playfully. “Oh, give the happy
couple thing a break,” she muttered. “It depresses us single girls.”
“I offered to fix you up with my friends,” Miller announced with
little sympathy. “As I remember; you not so politely declined.”
“No offense, but your friends are too much like you, and I’d never
want to date you,” Raina scoffed.
“Good thing too, considering he’s your brother,” Alicia giggled.
“Stepbrother,” Miller reminded her. “Technically, we’re not
related.”
“I keep forgetting that,” Alicia remarked then grinned. “I guess
that’s because you two act too much like brother and sister.”
“Yeah, he was a pain in the ass at thirteen, and he’s still a pain
now at twenty-four.”
“Yeah, you’re brother and sister all right,” Alicia muttered and
laughed.
Miller eyed his stepsister. “So did you want to come along
tonight?” he asked then grinned. “My friends love tormenting you.”
“I drove five hours to get here,” Raina informed him. “I don’t feel
like going out, especially with those perverts you call friends.” She
hesitated then looked around with bewilderment. “Where did Dad
go? I didn’t know he was going away on business.”
“He had to fly out to the New York office early this morning and
straighten something out,” Brenda informed her. “I think one of his
executives is in some sort of legal trouble, but I don’t really get
involved in his business. I just know he won’t be back until
tomorrow afternoon. It’ll be us girls tonight.”
“That’s more my speed for tonight,” Raina announced almost
happy to have a quiet evening at home. Despite being away at
college for long periods of time, she still considered the mansion her
only home. “I’m going to go to my room and freshen up, see if Levi
baked any of my favorite cookies, and then join you guys.”
 “See if you can squeeze a few extra cookies out of him for the
rest of us,” Brenda remarked and made a face. “He’s pretty
tightfisted with those things. I’m not sure if he’s trying to help me
maintain my girlish figure or keep his robust one.”
Raina laughed. “I’m thinking the latter,” she teased at the cook’s
expense.
 Chapter 2
A Dish Best Served Cold
Raina entered the large, bright kitchen from the back stairs.
She wasn’t certain if any of the staff would be around after seven
o’clock in the evening. To her surprise, both the cook and the
upstairs maid had gathered in the kitchen. The cook, Levi, was a
heavy-set man in his mid-thirties. He’d been working at the mansion
for the last fifteen years since he was twenty, which gave Raina
many years to adore him. Levi always wore a crisp white, neatly
pressed cook’s uniform, which almost resembled a Navy uniform
with side chest buttons. As his yellow high-top sneakers suggested,
he had an abundance of personality and, apart from his cooking,
rarely took anything seriously.
Despite being robust, Levi was also tall, which only added to his
presence. His dark curly hair just about touched his collar, and his
sideburns attempted to form a beard, although his face somehow
remained baby smooth. Rumor had it; Levi couldn’t grow a beard or
mustache, which is why he allowed his sideburns to grow out of
control. The upstairs maid, Sloan, was only a few years older than
Raina. Sloan was a natural beauty and could pass for the ‘girl next
door’. She was slightly taller than average at about five-foot-seven
and was in excellent physical shape.
Sloan started working at the mansion when she was eighteen
and Raina was sixteen, which gave them more than two years to
develop an unsanctioned friendship before Raina went off to
college. Having Sloan around was almost like having a sister. Raina
often wondered if Miller would have made a play for Sloan had he
not been off at college already when she started working for their
father. Sloan was dressed for a night out. By the flattering, form-
fitting dress she wore, Raina guessed she was heading out to some
posh nightclub in the city. Sloan was careful only to wear flat shoes,
so she wouldn’t scare away potential suitors by appearing taller than
them.
Levi leaned over the counter and flipped through a cookbook
while Sloan stood at the end of the counter and sipped on a bottle of
sparkling water. If they had been having a discussion, they had
already wrapped it up. Raina approached the island counter
catching their attention. Raina was always quiet on the back stairs,
which would often startle the staff while gossiping. Most times, they
would hear someone entering the kitchen and pretend to be busy.
Levi straightened when he saw her then grinned and met her at the
end of the counter. He gave her one of his famous bear hugs,
practically smothering her and pulling her off her feet. She was like
a rag doll in his arms.
“You’re home early,” he cried out with enthusiasm. “It’s good to
see you, squirt.”
When he released her, she just about lost her balance then
laughed. “I was just home last month.”
Sloan gave Raina a sly once-over and smirked. “If you think I’m
hugging you, you’re out of your mind,” she scoffed teasingly.
Raina raised a cocky brow and eyed her. “Good,” she
announced. “I don’t want to reek of ode de’ toilet the rest of the
night.”
“In that case,” Sloan announced then laughed and hugged her.
She purposely rubbed her wrists on Raina’s blazer before pulling
away.
Both women laughed like old friends. Levi grinned and extended
a container of cookies to Raina. She grinned and accepted one of
the large, chocolate chip cookies. Sloan leaned on the counter and
smiled at Raina.
“So,” Sloan announced. “Tell me about the rich boys at that Ivy
League college of yours.”
Raina groaned and waved her off. “Stuffy and pompous,” she
muttered with little interest. “What more do you need to know?”
“Better than community college,” Sloan insisted with a dreary sigh
and made a face. “Immature and supporting two or more kids.”
 “Why are you even looking?” Raina asked. “I thought you were
dating the new, insanely cute chauffeur. What’s his name? Titan.”
“Titus?” she questioned then rolled her eyes. “We dated a few
months until he dumped me for a slightly younger, perkier version of
myself.”
“How’s that?” Raina asked seeming uncertain what she’d missed.
“Callie.”
“Callie?” Raina squawked. “I thought she was dating Hanson, the
gardener.”
“She was until she discovered I was dating Titus,” Sloan
remarked. “I swear she didn’t have any interest in him until she
found out I was dating him.” She shifted and placed her chin in her
hand while leaning over the counter. “They’re going out tonight with
her sister, little Miss Hitler.”
The back kitchen door opened and a handsome, neatly dressed
man in his mid-to-late twenties entered. Sloan caught a glimpse of
the chauffeur, Titus, and straightened while frowning her distaste.
As Sloan turned away, she discreetly unbuttoned the top button of
her dress to reveal additional cleavage. Raina saw the action and
knew she did it to flaunt what he gave up. Raina felt bad for Sloan.
The maid was head-over-heels for the chauffeur, and just like that,
he was dating her co-worker. It had to be hard on her.
Titus was a ruggedly handsome man. The term ‘tall and
strapping’ came to mind. He was moderately muscular, and his
impressive build could be seen beyond his neatly pressed suit. His
fashionable evening attire wasn’t much different from his chauffeur
attire. There was no denying the dark-haired, bronze-skinned, suave
man was handsome. He’d only been working for them the last year
or so after Raina was already away at college, so she didn’t know
him all that well. Seeing the handsome man, particularly with
another woman, had to make Sloan insane. Raina could just about
see the rage in the young maid’s eyes, although she seemed to hold
it together fairly well. As expected, Titus didn’t acknowledge Sloan
to avoid a confrontation. He must have realized it was best to play it
cool with her, particularly since Dane would not tolerate fighting
among the staff.
 “Miss Steele,” Titus announced cheerfully when he saw her at the
counter. “I wasn’t aware you were coming home this weekend.
Your father will be disappointed he wasn’t here for your arrival.”
“I’m staying a few days,” she informed him. “Just long enough to
annoy the staff.”
Sloan chuckled at the comment. The staff wing door opened and
a young woman no older than Sloan entered the kitchen. Callie
Burton was a stunning woman with long, blonde hair, which never
seemed to be out of place. She was fashion magazine beautiful with
the body straight from the pages of a girly magazine. She was
dressed to kill in a form-fitting dress popular at most city nightclubs.
Callie started working at the mansion a little less than four years
ago, a few months after Dane had started. She came highly
recommended from the Nixon’s; their distant neighbor.
Callie was high maintenance from her makeup and hair to her
professionally manicured nails. How she could afford to look as
good as she did was almost puzzling. Although the chauffeur was
paid handsomely, Titus wasn’t a wealthy man by any means. It was
obvious he wasn’t paying her high maintenance price tag. He smiled
when he saw Callie. She purposely posed seductively for him almost
as if attempting to get a rise out of Sloan.
“How do I look?” Callie cooed.
“Stunning,” Titus announced then fidgeted slightly while glancing
at Sloan’s profile. He seemed uncomfortable around his ex-
girlfriend. “We should probably get going if we’re going to pick up
your sister and her boyfriend.”
Callie noticed Raina and immediately smiled. “Oh, Miss Steele,”
she announced with some surprise. “I didn’t know you were coming
home this weekend.”
“That seems to be the theme,” Raina teased.
Callie offered a tiny grimace. “You know your father had to go
away on business,” the young maid offered. She then turned
enthusiastic. “You could come out to the club with us tonight. It’ll
be fun.”
Titus tensed but didn’t comment. Raina found the invitation a
little forward considering she didn’t know Callie or Titus very well.
She’d known Sloan for several years growing up, but Titus had only
been working for them a little over a year. Despite that Callie had
worked for her father for the last four years, Raina’s interaction with
the downstairs maid was minimal.
“I appreciate the offer,” Raina announced while attempting a
smile, “but it was a long drive, and I’m exhausted. I plan on going
to bed early.”
“Yes, you must be exhausted,” Callie announced then smiled and
clung to Titus’ strong arm.
He seemed uncomfortable with her public displays of affection,
although it was uncertain if it had more to do with the boss’s
daughter being in the room or his ex-girlfriend. Maybe it was both.
“If you need anything tomorrow,” Callie announced cheerfully,
“just let me know.”
“That’s my job,” Sloan huffed with irritation and raised an
arrogant brow. “I’m the upstairs maid, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Callie glared at Sloan and released Titus’ arm. “No, I didn’t
forget,” she snarled in response while placing her hands on her
dainty hips. “I can’t forget, because you keep reminding me.”
Sloan turned to face Callie and appeared annoyed. “I keep
reminding you because you’re constantly weaseling your way
upstairs into my domain.”
“Oh, get a life,” Callie snapped back then sneered at her. “Oh,
that’s right. You don’t have one.” She linked onto Titus’ arm and
nuzzled it.
Titus became uncomfortable and attempted to stop a fight before
it started. “Okay, that’s enough,” he announced and attempted to
pull Callie away from the island counter.
Sloan glared at Titus with hostility. “I certainly hope you weren’t
talking to me,” she launched. “Because you forfeited the right to tell
me what to do when you started dating that little skank.”
“Who are you calling a skank?” Callie suddenly cried out while
attempting to break free from the chauffeur’s firm hold on her.
“Whoa, whoa,” Levi cried out in a whisper and hurried between
the two women. “Let’s not raise our voices. There’s no need to
bring the wrath of Dane upon us.”
 Despite the looks the women gave each other, Titus managed to
scoot Callie out the back door. He obviously wanted nothing to do
with Dane’s vindictive side. Once they were gone, Sloan finally
exhaled then held her head with a trembling hand. She looked at
Raina and frowned.
“I’m sorry about that,” Sloan announced timidly. “I shouldn’t
have exploded like that in front of you. It’s just that, well, she loves
to flaunt her relationship with Titus, and it burns me.”
“It’s okay,” Raina assured her. “I understand. Guys can be jerks,
but women can be vindictive bitches.”
“I appreciate that.” Sloan managed a smile despite her
depressed state. “I’d love to stay and gossip, but I have a class
tonight. After that, it’s out with the girls for a wild night of wishing
the cute guys were single. If you’re bored, you know where to find
us later.”
Raina chuckled with amusement. “Thanks for the offer,” she
announced. “But I’d rather get my jollies reading a good thriller or
horror book tonight.”
Sloan shook her head while laughing, obviously understanding
the comment all too well. She then left through the back door.
Levi didn’t comment after the maid’s departure. He finally smiled
at Raina. “Is there anything you and the other ladies need before I
turn in for the evening?”
“I’d heard a request for some cookies,” Raina informed him.
He groaned teasingly and shook his head. “Oh, I suppose,” he
announced then grinned while laughing. “I made four batches when
I heard you were coming.”
“You’re the best, Levi,” she replied then appeared bewildered and
eyed him. “I can’t believe you go to bed so early.”
“I’m up at the crack of dawn. Breakfast doesn’t make itself,” he
replied. “Besides, I have to be up before Commandant Dane. You
don’t want to talk to him before he’s had his morning coffee.”
Dane entered the kitchen then hesitated while casting a look at
Raina and Levi. Levi fidgeted despite that he was off the clock. He
placed several cookies on a plate for the ladies then replaced the
container to the counter. Dane ignored them and proceeded for the
teapot.
“I’ll be serving tea in the lounge in ten minutes,” Dane informed
Raina.
“Well, it’s off to bed with me,” Levi announced while seeming
tense around Dane. He smiled politely at Raina. “I have a grisly
horror movie coming on in ten minutes, and I’d like to be asleep
before the second body falls. See you in the morning. Goodnight.”
Raina laughed as Levi left the kitchen through the staff wing
doorway. Once he was gone, Raina’s mood immediately dropped as
she looked at Dane. He leaned his back against the counter behind
him and glared at her.
“The good ship lollipop has sailed,” Dane scoffed. “Kindly vacate
my kitchen.”
She shook her head with irritation. “I’m amazed at how quickly
you go from a proper butler to a surly prick,” Raina snapped. “It’s
got to be a world’s record.”
“What can I say? You motivate me,” he growled then glared at
her and straightened. “Now be a good, little girl and leave me
alone.”
“You’re so charming,” she snapped back while sneering at him.
“I wish my father could hear the way that you talk to me.”
“You’ve been trying to get me fired for four years now,” Dane
scoffed. “He’s not going to believe anything you say about me.”
She rolled her eyes but withheld her disgust despite her rising
blood pressure. “Always a pleasure talking to you, Dane.”
Raina headed across the kitchen and stormed out the hallway
door.
 Chapter 3
Gossip Hour
The three women talked and laughed cheerfully together in the
front sitting room while drinking tea and nibbling on cookies. The
room was decorated with antique furniture and had an Old Victorian
feel to it. There were two sofas placed facing the center of the room
with a large coffee table in the middle. A wing-backed chair was off
to the side allowing a view of the massive, stone fireplace. There
were several larger sitting chairs toward the corners of the room
with small end tables and antique lamps to provide additional light.
Several expensive paintings hung on the walls, completing the
elegance of the room. Large floor to ceiling windows surrounded
the room, although the gaudy tapestry curtains were currently
closed. Dane entered the lounge and paused within the doorway.
Raina rolled her eyes when she saw him and silently fumed.
“If you won’t be needing anything else, Mrs. Steele, I’ll be
turning in now,” Dane announced.
“We’re fine,” Brenda replied cheerfully revealing her fondness for
the surly butler. “Goodnight, Dane.”
Dane politely nodded to Brenda, cast a dirty look at Raina, and
then left the room. Raina sneered her distaste. Brenda caught the
look from her stepdaughter. She shook her head and held back her
laugh.
“What is it with you two?” Brenda asked while smiling doubtfully.
“I swear the two of you hate each other.”
“You’re just realizing that now?” Raina teased while attempting to
hide her sneer. “Where have you been the last four years?”
“I guess it’s your similar personalities clashing,” Brenda remarked.
Raina glared at her stepmother and nearly gasped. “I’m nothing
like him.”
 “So what is it?” Brenda demanded. “What started this feud
between you two?”
“He’s had an attitude ever since he started here,” Raina
remarked. “I was seventeen or eighteen when Dad hired him. He’d
only been here a couple of weeks.”
§

Four years earlier. Eighteen-year-old Raina lay on the game

room sofa with a tall, lanky boy from her school. Her boyfriend,
Jeffers, had sandy brown hair and a baby face, which was why most
of the girls at her school were attracted to him. Raina couldn’t
believe that he’d asked her out, considering he could have any other
girl at school. The couple kissed passionately while Jeffers firmly
caressed her body as he partially lay on top of her. Raina was
slightly uncomfortable and stopped his traveling hands several times,
although he didn’t allow her protests to distract him.
Jeffers broke off the kiss, pulled back to meet her gaze, and
grinned. “It’s quiet around here,” he announced. “Where is
everyone?”
“It’s Sunday. The staff has the day off,” Raina informed him.
“They went to that picnic in town.”
“What about your father and stepmother?” the teenage boy
asked.
Raina grinned slyly and caressed his broad shoulders. “They’re
visiting Miller at that overpriced college of his.”
His eyes seemed to sparkle at the response. “So we have the
place to ourselves all afternoon?”
“All afternoon,” she replied and kissed him affectionately.
Jeffers returned the kiss with increased passion and aggression.
His hands firmly caressed her body then attempted to unbutton her
pants. Raina broke off the kiss and stopped his hand.
He appeared disappointed while staring at her. “What’s wrong?”
She shifted uncomfortably beneath him. “I don’t know if I’m
ready for that.”
“You’re going to graduate soon,” he announced while grinning. “I
want us to be exclusive.”
 She stared at him with some surprise then smiled in response.
“Me too.”
“You don’t want to be a virgin when you go away to college, do
you?” he asked.
Raina tensed slightly while staring into his eyes. What was he
saying? He responded as if reading her mind.
“Being at two different colleges is going to be difficult. You’re
going to be five hours away,” he insisted then grinned. “If we’re
sleeping together, we’ll be exclusive, and it’ll make it easier.”
Jeffers kissed her neck and continued running his hands along
her body.
She considered the comment and was puzzled by it. “That
doesn’t make any sense,” Raina informed him.
Jeffers pulled back to meet her gaze and groaned with some
irritation. “There’s going to be a lot of temptation for both of us,” he
insisted. “If we’re exclusive, there won’t be any temptation, but we
can only be exclusive if we’re sleeping together.”
He kissed her passionately and aggressively on the mouth.
Despite that his explanation troubled her, Raina reluctantly gave in
and returned the kiss. He again attempted to unbutton her pants.
She again stopped him. She was still troubled by his reasoning of
why they couldn’t be exclusive unless they slept together.
Jeffers groaned with annoyance and glared at her. “What’s your
problem?”
Raina felt her frustration rising to match his. She was feeling
pressured, and his hostility regarding her feelings wasn’t helping any.
“I think it’s you,” a gruff male voice responded. “Time to go
home, Romeo.”
Jeffers jumped off Raina and sat up on the sofa with surprise as
he looked across the room. Dane casually stood in the doorway
conveying little emotion, although he didn’t appear pleased. Raina
saw Dane then sat up while groaning and rolling her eyes.
“Who the hell is that?” Jeffers demanded, indicating the man in
his late twenties dressed neatly in a suit.
“No one,” she scoffed while avoiding looking at Dane. “Just the
butler.”
 Jeffers snorted a laugh and smirked. “Get lost, butler,” he
launched.
Jeffers moved against Raina and attempted to lower her back to
the sofa despite that she no longer seemed interested. She gave
him a slight shove to show her disapproval. She certainly had no
intentions of making out in front of the newly hired butler. Raina
was irritated that her boyfriend somehow thought she’d be okay with
it. Jeffers was suddenly pulled off her. She cried out with surprise
as her boyfriend let out a sharp scream. Dane twisted Jeffers arm
behind his back and forced him across the game room and into the
hallway. Dane escorted Jeffers along the hallway keeping his arm
pinned while Raina ran after them.
“Damn it, Dane. Let go of him,” she cried out. “Stop this!”
Dane forced Jeffers up the foyer steps and carelessly tossed him
out the front door. He slammed the door behind him then turned to
face the irate teenager standing behind him.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she cried out with surprise
and anger.
He stared into her eyes without flinching. “Your father expressly
forbids bumping and grinding under his roof. You have a
reputation,” Dane scoffed while remaining unusually calm. “One of
us has to protect that.”
“You bastard!”
§

The following evening. Eighteen-year-old Raina followed a

distinguished looking man in his early forties along the hallway. Her
father, Otto Steele, was a handsome man with a little gray peppered
into his short brown hair. Her father was a tall, sturdily built man,
who sometimes looked more like an Army sergeant than a
businessman. At times, he acted it too. Raina couldn’t control her
anger any longer.
“I can’t believe you’re siding with the butler, Dad,” Raina
launched while her father practically ignored her emotional
outburst. “He roughed up my boyfriend. Jeffers was so upset over
how he was treated that he dumped me!”
 “I’m not taking sides, Raina,” her father insisted while refusing to
face her. “I commend Dane for looking after you while I’m away.”
“Yeah, for protecting me from my own boyfriend,” she snapped.
“Real classy.”
Otto turned to face her and stared into her eyes with little
sympathy. “I’m sorry you feel you’re being disrespected, but I’d
have done the same thing if I’d been here,” he announced then held
his breath a moment. “I know Dane may seem a little rough around
the edges, but I trust his judgment.” He placed his hand on her
shoulder and stared into her eyes. “If the world ever falls apart,
stand behind Dane.”
“So that’s it?” she squawked. “He’s allowed to treat me however
he wants.”
“No, but I trust his judgment,” her father again announced. “I’m
sorry, Raina.”
§

Later that evening. Raina sat at the kitchen island counter with
a cup of tea before her and watched Levi mixing a batch of cookies.
As he added some chocolate chips, Raina watched him closely. Her
eyes narrowed. He caught her stare. She raised her brows with
disapproval. Levi laughed and dumped the remainder of the bag
into the mixture. They exchanged humored looks and laughed. She
swore he tormented her on purpose, but she adored him. Dane
entered the kitchen from the hallway entrance.
Levi caught a glimpse of Dane and muttered to Raina, “Virgin
alert.”
She sneered at the cook. “That’s not funny.”
Despite her venomous look, Levi chuckled. Dane cast a glance at
Raina and continued with his work. She was still mad at him, and
the tension between them was enough to make Levi uneasy.
Callie entered the kitchen from the back stairs, which struck
Raina as odd since Sloan was the upstairs maid. The new
downstairs maid wasn’t good with boundaries and seemed to step
on Sloan’s toes every chance she had. Dane’s attention briefly
shifted to the attractive, twenty-year-old maid. Raina noted his gaze
and watched the exchange while keeping a low profile at the island
counter with Levi. Callie walked behind the island counter and
talked with Dane. Raina continued to watch their interaction
closely. It was more than obvious that Dane was falling all over
himself in her presence.
“I’ll be sure to take care of that first thing in the morning, Callie,”
Dane announced while smiling almost boyishly.
“Thanks, Dane,” Callie practically cooed and returned the smile.
“I appreciate that. I’m clocking out.”
Dane nodded in response. Callie headed for the servant’s
quarters entrance on the other side of the kitchen not far from the
counter. Dane hesitated then hurried after her. He stopped her
short of the door and appeared tense while fidgeting.
“Callie,” he announced timidly, “I was just wondering if you’d like
to--”
Although neither seemed to notice her, Raina now stood
alongside the island counter not far from them with a piece of paper
in her hand.
“Excuse me, Dane,” Raina announced in all seriousness. “You
had a phone call earlier.”
He gave her a bewildered look and appeared almost unable to
comment. Her interruption was throwing off his already awkward
attempt to ask out Callie. Raina looked at the paper and read the
message aloud.
“He said his name is Bud and that you’d met Tuesday night at
that bar downtown,” Raina announced while keeping a straight face.
“He wanted to thank you for a wild evening and hoped you could get
together real soon.” She waved the paper while grinning. “He left
his number.” She stuffed the paper in his hand.
Dane glared at her with a hostility she hadn’t seen before. Raina
didn’t let that interfere with her revenge scheme. She flashed a
smile and lustfully raised her brows.
“Sounds like you made a new, special friend,” Raina announced
and drove her revenge home.
Dane crumbled the note while maintaining his glare. Levi
watched the exchange with shock or possible horror. Raina grinned,
spun on her heels, and headed for the back stairs. A hasty retreat
seemed to be in her best interest.
§

Present day. Brenda and Alicia remained sitting silently on the

antique sofa and stared at Raina with shared looks of surprise at the
story they’d been told.
“You didn’t--” Brenda finally gasped and shook her head with
disbelief.
“Hey, he started it,” Raina insisted without remorse as she
nonchalantly leaned back on the second sofa across from them. “I
was handling Jeffers just fine. He ruined my chances with the only
guy I really cared about. I was just repaying the favor.”
“That’s awful, Raina,” Brenda announced while maintaining her
stunned look.
“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Raina remarked. “He ended up
dating Callie anyway.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“Although, I can’t imagine what she saw in him. Talk about a
mismatch. I’m not surprised she dumped him after only a few
weeks.”
“He’s not that bad,” Brenda insisted and appeared disappointed.
“You two just got off on a bad note.”
“Which he started.”
“I remember a time when you thought I was your evil
stepmother,” Brenda reminded her. “You didn’t like me much either.”
“That was different. I was ten, and I thought you were replacing
my mother,” Raina remarked. “I was wrong about you. Dane’s a
prick.”
“Raina!” Brenda chided despite attempting to hide her smirk.
Perhaps she knew the statement was partially true.
“He’s had it out for me from the moment we’d met,” Raina
insisted. “I can’t stand being in the same room with him.”
“You’ve never given him a chance,” Brenda criticized then sipped
her tea.
“Because he hates me,” Raina protested. “Why should I tolerate
him when he doesn’t make any effort?”
 “He doesn’t hate you,” Brenda huffed and shook her head. “If
you tried being nice to him, you’d see that.”
“Perhaps when hell freezes over,” Raina scoffed and avoided
looking at her stepmother.
“Maybe we should change the subject,” Alicia remarked as she
shifted uncomfortably from the exchange.
 Chapter 4
All is Fair
As the grandfather clock on the staircase landing struck
midnight, Raina appeared on the steps wearing a pair of shorts and
an old, worn tank top she used as her sleep attire. She headed
down the many steps in her bare feet, rounded the banister into the
grand hallway, and approached the library. Raina entered the library
and nearly collided with Dane. She jumped with surprise, sneered at
him, and then walked past him. She shouldn’t have been surprised
to find him in the library. From her experience, he’d spent a lot of
his free time there. Dane replaced the book he had recently finished
without comment and searched several titles on the shelf near the
door, better known as the stuffy section. At least that’s what Raina
liked to call it. To her knowledge, Dane’s taste in books seemed
limited to deceased authors. The silence between them was
unsettling as both searched for a book and pretended the other
didn’t exist.
The library was practically medieval in appearance and
considered a work of art to those who were serious about their
books. The room had a high, vaulted ceiling with chandeliers
throughout. Sculpted wooden bookcases took up nearly every
available wall with shelves high enough that a rolling ladder was
required to reach some. A large window contained beveled glass
and a deep, padded window seat allowing a breathtaking view of the
mansion fountain and the weeping willow trees covering the
driveway. There were assorted antique sofas positioned strategically
around the room on many throw rugs over top the marble floor. The
room offered one desk for anyone interested in research, although it
was rarely used. The library had always been Raina’s favorite room
in the mansion, and she’d spent hours on the window seat reading
books since she was a child. When she was little, her grandfather,
DawDaw, would sit with her on the window seat and read to her.
Those were her fondest memories.
Raina removed a book from her personal section of the library
consisting of little-known authors. She flipped through the book,
uncertain if she’d read that one before or not. When she lived at
home, she had a system. Books she’d read were on the bottom two
shelves while those she hadn’t read were on the two higher shelves.
Once she went away to college, someone took it upon himself to
arrange the books in alphabetical order. Raina was certain Dane did
it on purpose to piss her off. She hesitated then apprehensively cast
a glance at Dane across the library. There were times she’d take in
a sweeping eyeful of the man and admire his striking features.
There was no denying he was a handsome man.
The first time she’d laid her eyes upon him, his mesmerizing blue
eyes captivated her. He also had a charming smile. He had smiled
at her many times, although usually with a grin meant to mock her.
Despite the devilish look behind that smile and sinister eyes, he was
still a handsome man. Although athletically built, he had a hint of
body mass beneath his meticulously pressed uniform suggesting he
had at one time worked out. She looked back at the open book in
her hand and frowned. There were moments when they were alone
together, silently loathing each other, that she admired his handsome
features. She hated those fleeting moments of attraction toward the
insufferable man. Raina counted the seconds until he’d inevitably do
or say something to put an end to those feelings. Her thoughts
strayed to Brenda’s words earlier that night. Maybe she didn’t give
Dane enough credit. Maybe she should give him a chance.
“I, uh, didn’t think anyone else was up,” she said aloud before
she could stop herself. The moment the words left her mouth, she
cursed herself for not coming out with some scathing insult instead.
“I wouldn’t be either if Levi wasn’t snoring louder than the
volume on his television,” Dane casually remarked and avoided
looking at her.
She was almost stunned that he responded with something polite
rather than his usual insults. Raina raised a brow and smiled more
naturally. The prospect of having an actual adult conversation with
Dane was almost exhilarating.
“Is his snoring really that bad?”
“The walls vibrate,” Dane muttered with little interest in their
conversation while keeping his nose in his book.
She turned with surprise while lowering her book and looked at
him. “Really?”
Dane shut the book he held and turned toward her with a look of
impatience and involuntarily tensed. “Why are you talking to me?”
Raina was slightly surprised by the hostility directed at her. He
was in rare form tonight. “I’m trying to be nice,” she launched back.
“I sincerely doubt that, Miss Steele,” he sharply responded and
took a quick step toward her, startling her. “Any time you’ve smiled
at me, some sinister plot to get me fired usually followed.” His
brows rose while making his point. “Any pleasantries were always
followed by some degrading insult usually at the expense of my
manhood.” Dane cocked his head while glaring at her through
narrow eyes. “So you’ll forgive me if I’d rather not talk to you.” He
then shot a glare at the tank top she wore as if pointing it out with
his eyes. “And consider covering up, for God’s sake. This isn’t ‘girls
gone wild’ on spring break.”
The remark nearly floored her. She glanced at the worn, white
tank top she wore and realized it was practically see-through in the
library lighting. Despite wanting to hold the book over her chest to
hide her body from him, she refused to comply with his request.
She sneered at him despite the color rising to her cheeks and chose
to keep her perky breasts visible just to spite him.
“You really are a repulsive prick,” she scoffed while staring into
his blue eyes. “And if you find my ta-tas so offensive, maybe you
should stop staring at them.”
Although she knew he wasn’t staring at her chest, she was
certain it would embarrass him. He fidgeted despite being offended
by the insinuation but refused to back down or look away. They
stared into each other’s eyes for an awkward moment. It was
obvious he was searching for a quick comeback but was rendered
speechless by the insult. Raina knew she had the upper hand and
couldn’t relinquish her power by looking away first. She wasn’t sure
if it was the sudden rush of adrenaline or her dominant upper hand,
but as she stared at him, she felt an uncontrolled desire to kiss him.
She allowed the thought to invade her mind only a moment before
thinking better of it. Raina turned and stormed from the library.
The moment Dane was out of her view, she insecurely held her book
across her chest with embarrassment.
 Chapter 5
Love and War
Raina stormed into her bedroom, shut the door behind her, and
tossed her book with disgust onto the tall, frilly looking bed. On the
nightstand next to the picture of her mother and father was a large
vase filled with fresh yellow roses. Even the beautiful flowers
couldn’t soothe her hostile mood. She paced the length of the large
bedroom like a caged animal, alternating running her fingers through
her hair and insecurely rubbing her shoulders.
“I should have hit him,” she muttered while pacing. “I should
have slapped him across the face.” Her brows rose as everything
she should have done now surfaced with her rising frustration. “I
should have called him a pervert. That would have pissed him off.”
She continued to pace then paused before the free-standing, full-
length mirror and looked at her reflection. She eyed the partially
see-through tank top revealing her perky nipples that were
practically poking through the thin material. There wasn’t much left
to the imagination. She rolled her eyes, embarrassed that Dane had
more or less seen her breasts. She groaned with disgust.
“I’m never going to live this one down,” she muttered while again
running her fingers through her hair.
Raina frowned with disgust at herself and entered the bathroom.
The massive bathroom was mostly marble and wood, giving it an
elegant appeal. There was a large garden tub, a clear glass
standing shower, and a double marble sink. She approached the
garden tub and turned on the water. She needed a long, hot bath to
settle her frayed nerves. She needed to get Dane from her mind.
Despite the running water, she heard a faint thump. Raina looked
around the bathroom then shut off the water to listen for the
sound. She didn’t hear anything.
 She was about to turn on the water again when she heard
another thump coming from the room next to hers, which belonged
to her father and stepmother. Raina appeared bewildered, decided
to investigate the sound, and hurried from the bathroom. As Raina
entered her bedroom, a man wearing a mask grabbed her from
behind. She only caught a glimpse of the intruder before he tossed
her onto the bed, momentarily disorienting her. She barely managed
a scream as the man leaped on top of her. Despite taking self-
defense classes in college, she found herself unable to think straight
until she saw the hunting knife in his gloved hand.
A rush of adrenaline coursed through her and her reflexes took
over. Raina struck him in the nose with her palm in what had to be
a precision shot. He cried out in surprise and pain as he fell off her
while clutching his bleeding nose. She sprang to her feet and ran for
the door. Before she reached the door, the intruder again grabbed
her from behind and stopped her from escaping. She kicked behind
her, ramming her heel into his shin, and then jabbed him twice in
the ribs with her elbow. Raina clutched his arm and tossed him over
her hip. He struck the floor with force and a loud thump. Raina saw
the discarded knife on the floor and lunged for it. The intruder
swept her legs out from under her. She crashed to the floor and
attempted to brace her fall with her arms.
§

Alicia ran into the hallway from her bedroom while tightening
the sash on her robe, having heard the loud thump from one of the
nearby rooms. She heard a crash from the master bedroom next to
Raina’s room and ran to check on Brenda. Alicia darted into the
dimly lit bedroom and turned on the light by the wall switch. Brenda
half-lay on the bed with blood soaking the sheets and dripping down
her arm as it hung over the bed. Alicia suddenly cried out, but her
scream was cut short as a man dressed entirely in black and wearing
a mask grabbed her by the throat. He slammed her into the nearby
wall, which temporarily dazed her.
The masked intruder raised the large, bloodied hunting knife,
prepared to strike. Alicia screeched with horror as her knee
instinctively connected with his groin. He cried out and released her
while clutching himself. As she attempted to bolt for the door, he
recovered enough to slash at her from his doubled over position and
sliced her thigh. She screamed and struck the wall. The intruder
straightened, bolted for the door, and slammed it shut. Alicia darted
away from the door while clutching her bleeding thigh and faced her
attacker.
“Raina!” she screamed, hoping to alert her friend in the room
next door.
§

Raina was on her bedroom floor beneath the first intruder, who
now straddled her waist and held her down with his gloved hand on
her throat. He raised the knife and was about to plunge it into her.
She struggled to hold back the hand with the knife as well as the
hand on her throat. As she heard Alicia scream her name from the
nearby room, Raina’s look of horror turned to anger. She released
her attacker’s hand gripping her throat and grabbed his crotch with a
vice-like grip. He cried out as she violently twisted until she felt as if
her wrist would snap. While he was crippled in agony, she bit his
wrist near her face. He screamed in pain between her teeth on his
skin and her grip on his crotch. She released his crotch and
punched him in the mouth, knocking him off her and to the floor.
Raina scrambled to her feet and kicked him in the groin before
running from the room, leaving the intruder writhing in agony.
Raina skidded across the hardwood floor in the hallway in her
bare feet and ran for the master bedroom next door, which is where
she heard Alicia’s cry for help. She attempted to open the door, but
it didn’t budge. Without hesitation, she stepped back and gave her
best karate kick to the door. It flew open with a thunderous crack.
Raina blindly bolted into the partially lit bedroom and suddenly
stopped when she saw Brenda sprawled out in a bloody mass on the
bed. She then saw the second intruder only a few feet to her right
with his hand on Alicia’s throat. He tossed Alicia across the room,
forcing her to stumble and fall, before leaping for Raina with his
bloodied knife. Raina saw Alicia on her knees but kept her focus on
the man with the knife.
“Raina, run.” Alicia screamed loud and shrill while she remained
on her knees near the dresser.
Despite hearing her scream, Raina didn’t bolt and kept her eyes
locked on the man in black. The killer lunged at her with the
hunting knife raised above his head. She dived to the floor for him
and tackled his legs, knocking them out from under him. The killer
flew over her and roughly struck the floor. Raina sprang to her feet
as her attacker moved to his hands and knees. She kicked him in
the abdomen and sent him rolling across the floor. He again moved
to his knees while still clutching the knife.
Raina screamed with anger as she kicked him in the face just
narrowly missing his nose. The masked intruder was thrown to the
floor, writhed in agony, and finally dropped the knife. Raina grabbed
the discarded knife and ran to Alicia’s side. Alicia clung to Raina
while sinking in her arms. It was then that Raina saw the blood
covering her friend’s hands. Her eyes immediately strayed to the
young woman’s nightgown now saturated with blood over her
abdomen. There was so much blood! She met Alicia’s gaze with her
own horrified one.
A relieved smile crossed Alicia’s face. “I knew you’d save me,”
she gasped while offering a soft laugh before falling limp in Raina’s
arms.
Raina stared at her friend with horror. “Alicia?” she gasped. “No,
Alicia. You can’t die!”
Tears streaked Raina’s face as reality swept over her. Alicia was
dead! The killer groaned and attempted to stand, alerting Raina to
the danger still present. Raina gently lowered Alicia to the floor and
moved to her feet with the knife in her hand. She sneered at the
writhing man while clutching the knife.
“You fucked with the wrong woman!”
Raina took two quick steps toward the man now on his knees and
raised the knife in both hands above her head. He looked up with
surprise as she was about to plunge the knife into his throat. Raina
felt a painful surge to the back of her head. The room spun as she
caught a close-up look of the floor not even realizing she had fallen.
The intruder from her bedroom stood over her as she attempted to
pull herself up with little success. She could do little more than
scratch and claw at the floor. Raina attempted to look at the man
who’d hit her, but she couldn’t focus. He turned his attention to his
partner, who was still on his knees not far from Raina, and appeared
angry with the injured man.
“Get up, you idiot!”
The killer slowly moved to his feet and stared at Raina, who lay
on the floor attempting to remain conscious. The little voice inside
of her was screaming for her to get up, but she couldn’t seem to
move. The killer held his bleeding mouth and eyed his partner with
anger.
“I thought there was only one woman in the house,” he
launched. “What the hell? We’re not being paid enough for this
shit!”
“Don’t worry, we’re going to take the rest out of her ass,” the first
intruder announced gruffly. “Help me get her to her room, and then
I want you to make sure the butler is out of the way.”
§

The two intruders each took an arm and easily dragged Raina
down the hallway toward her bedroom as her heels dragged along
the hardwood floor. Her vision was blurry, her head seemed fuzzy,
and her ears were ringing loudly. For a moment, she had forgotten
what had happened. She had possibly blacked out a minute. When
her heels hit carpeting, she realized the intruders were taking her to
her bedroom. She struggled with consciousness as they tossed her
onto her bed. The moment her back hit the bed, her head seemed
to clear, and the ringing in her ears subsided. The first intruder
unbuckled his belt. After her assault on his crotch, she knew he had
to be hurting.
As he reached for her sleep shorts, Raina felt her adrenaline
return. She flew upward into a sitting position and rammed her
palm into his nose. He cried out while clutching his bleeding nose
and stumbled backward. The second intruder leaped on top of her,
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of A landscape
painter
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.

Title: A landscape painter

Author: Henry James

Author of introduction, etc.: Albert Mordell

Release date: June 17, 2022 [eBook #68340]

Language: English

Original publication: United States: Scott and Seltzer, 1919

Credits: Laura Natal Rodrigues (Images generously made available

by Hathi Trust Digital Library.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A

LANDSCAPE PAINTER ***
A LANDSCAPE
PAINTER

By
 HENRY JAMES

NEW YORK

SCOTT AND SELTZER

1919

CONTENTS

I. A Landscape Painter
II. Poor Richard
III. A Day of Days
IV. A Most Extraordinary Case

PREFACE

The four tales comprising this volume are printed now for the first
time in America in book form. All of them were written by Henry
James before he had attained his twenty-fifth year. They are
remarkable for their maturity of thought and clarity of style.
 It has been the general opinion that James, like George Eliot,
achieved his literary development rather slowly, since it was known
that he was thirty-two years of age when "The Passionate Pilgrim,"
his first collection of tales, and "Rodrick Hudson," his first long novel,
were published. As a matter of fact, however, James had been
writing for the leading magazines since he was twenty-two. The first
story in this volume, "A Landscape Painter," appeared in the Atlantic
Monthly for February, 1866, and was the second story James had
published up to that time.
The tales in this volume are among the most precious in our
literature, and James himself thought highly of them, since he
collected them in an English edition, published in 1885, in three
volumes with the title, "Short Stories Revived." This collection never
appeared in America. It is strange that James should have chosen to
appeal to English readers rather than to his own countrymen. Why
he did so is a question that remains unanswered. But the present
volume will serve as a corrective of this anomaly. The tales are
reprinted, not from the English edition, but from the American
periodicals in which they were first published.
It has been claimed for William Dean Howells that it was he who
discovered James, when, as assistant editor to Fields on the Atlantic
Monthly, he strongly recommended the acceptance of James' story,
"Poor Richard." The claim, however, is not altogether well founded,
since James had published two stories before that time. These were
"A Landscape Painter" and "A Day of Days," the latter appearing in
the Galaxy for June 15, 1866. All three stories are reprinted in this
volume.
Unusual interest, however, attaches to the tale of "Poor Richard,"
because of Howell's connection with it. Its reading led to the
beginning of a friendship between James and Howells which may be
considered as one of the great literary friendships in the annals of
literature. Howells told the story in the Century for November, 1882.
When the manuscript was received at the office of the Atlantic,
Fields submitted it to Howells for his opinion. Howells read it, and
when asked whether he would accept it, he replied, "Yes, and all the
stories you can get from that writer." "One is much securer of one's
judgment," writes Howells, "at twenty-nine than, say, at forty-five; but
if there was a mistake, I am not yet old enough to regret it. The story
was called 'Poor Richard' and it dealt with the conscience of a man
very much in love with a woman who loved his rival. He told the rival
a lie, which sent him away to his death on the field, but poor
Richard's lie did not win his love. It seems to me that the situation
was strongly and finely felt. One's pity went, as it should, with the
liar; but the whole story has a pathos which lingers in my mind
equally with a sense of the new literary qualities which gave me
much delight in it."
The final story of this volume, "A Most Extraordinary Case," was
first published in the Atlantic Monthly for April, 1868, when Howells
was still on the editorial staff.
I am sure these first efforts of James' pen will be welcomed by his
American admirers. They are in every way worthy of James at his
best, and so worthy of being preserved. The only regret the reader
may feel is that the author should in his later works have seen fit to
adopt an elaborate, complex and often obscure style, instead of
clinging to simple, natural language, of which these stories show him
to be such a master.
ALBERT MORDELL.
Philadelphia, July 10, 1919.

A LANDSCAPE
PAINTER

Do you remember how, a dozen years ago, a number of our

friends were startled by the report of the rupture of young Locksley's
engagement with Miss Leary? This event made some noise in its
day. Both parties possessed certain claims to distinction: Locksley in
his wealth, which was believed to be enormous, and the young lady
in her beauty, which was in truth very great. I used to hear that her
lover was fond of comparing her to the Venus of Milo; and, indeed, if
you can imagine the mutilated goddess with her full complement of
limbs, dressed out by Madame de Crinoline, and engaged in small
talk beneath the drawing-room chandelier, you may obtain a vague
notion of Miss Josephine Leary. Locksley, you remember, was rather
a short man, dark, and not particularly good-looking; and when he
walked about with his betrothed, it was half a matter of surprise that
he should have ventured to propose to a young lady of such heroic
proportions. Miss Leary had the gray eyes and auburn hair which I
have always assigned to the famous statue. The one defect in her
face, in spite of an expression of great candor and sweetness, was a
certain lack of animation. What it was besides her beauty that
attracted Locksley I never discovered: perhaps, since his attachment
was so short-lived, it was her beauty alone. I say that his attachment
was of brief duration, because the rupture was understood to have
come from him. Both he and Miss Leary very wisely held their
tongues on the matter; but among their friends and enemies it of
course received a hundred explanations. That most popular with
Locksley's well-wishers was that he had backed out (these events
are discussed, you know, in fashionable circles very much as an
expected prizefight which has miscarried is canvassed in reunions of
another kind) only on flagrant evidence of the lady's—what,
faithlessness?—on overwhelming proof of the most mercenary spirit
on the part of Miss Leary. You see, our friend was held capable of
doing battle for an "idea." It must be owned that this was a novel
charge; but, for myself, having long known Mrs. Leary, the mother,
who was a widow with four daughters, to be an inveterate old screw,
I took the liberty of accrediting the existence of a similar propensity in
her eldest born. I suppose that the young lady's family had, on their
own side, a very plausible version of their disappointment. It was,
however, soon made up to them by Josephine's marriage with a
gentleman of expectations very nearly as brilliant as those of her old
suitor. And what was his compensation? That is precisely my story.
 Locksley disappeared, as you will remember, from public view.
The events above alluded to happened in March. On calling at his
lodgings in April, I was told he had gone to the "country." But towards
the last of May I met him. He told me that he was on the look-out for
a quiet, unfrequented place on the seashore, where he might
rusticate and sketch. He was looking very poorly. I suggested
Newport, and I remember he hardly had the energy to smile at the
simple joke. We parted without my having been able to satisfy him,
and for a very long time I quite lost sight of him. He died seven years
ago, at the age of thirty-five. For five years, accordingly, he managed
to shield his life from the eyes of men. Through circumstances which
I need not detail, a large portion of his personal property has come
into my hands. You will remember that he was a man of what are
called elegant tastes: that is, he was seriously interested in arts and
letters. He wrote some very bad poetry, but he produced a number of
remarkable paintings. He left a mass of papers on all subjects, few of
which are adapted to be generally interesting. A portion of them,
however, I highly prize,—that which constitutes his private diary. It
extends from his twenty-fifth to his thirtieth year, at which period it
breaks off suddenly. If you will come to my house, I will show you
such of his pictures and sketches as I possess, and, I trust, convert
you to my opinion that he had in him the stuff of a great painter.
Meanwhile I will place before you the last hundred pages of his diary,
as an answer to your inquiry regarding the ultimate view taken by the
great Nemesis of his treatment of Miss Leary,—his scorn of the
magnificent Venus Victrix. The recent decease of the one person
who had a voice paramount to mine in the disposal of Locksley's
effects enables me to act without reserve.
Cragthrope, June 9th.—I have been sitting some minutes, pen in
hand, pondering whether on the new earth, beneath this new sky, I
had better resume these occasional records of my idleness. I think I
will at all events make the experiment. If we fail, as Lady Macbeth
remarks, we fail. I find my entries have been longest when my life
has been dullest. I doubt not, therefore, that, once launched into the
monotony of village life, I shall sit scribbling from morning till night. If
nothing happens—— But my prophetic soul tells me that something
will happen. I am determined that something shall,—if it be nothing
else than that I paint a picture.
When I came up to bed half an hour ago, I was deadly sleepy.
Now, after looking out of the window a little while, my brain is strong
and clear, and I feel as if I could write till morning. But, unfortunately,
I have nothing to write about. And then, if I expect to rise early, I
must turn in betimes. The whole village is asleep, godless
metropolitan that I am! The lamps on the square without flicker in the
wind; there is nothing abroad but the blue darkness and the smell of
the rising tide. I have spent the whole day on my legs, trudging from
one side of the peninsula to the other. What a trump is old Mrs. M
——, to have thought of this place! I must write her a letter of
passionate thanks. Never before, it seems to me, have I known pure
coast-scenery. Never before have I relished the beauties of wave,
rock, and cloud. I am filled with a sensuous ecstasy at the
unparalleled life, light, and transparency of the air. I am stricken mute
with reverent admiration at the stupendous resources possessed by
the ocean in the way of color and sound; and as yet, I suppose, I
have not seen half of them I came in to supper hungry, weary,
footsore, sun-burnt, dirty,—happier, in short, than I have been for a
twelvemonth. And now for the victories of the brush!

June 11th.—Another day afoot and also afloat. I resolved this

morning to leave this abominable little tavern. I can't stand my
feather-bed another night. I determined to find some other prospect
than the town-pump and the "drug-store." I questioned my host, after
breakfast, as to the possibility of getting lodgings in any of the
outlying farms and cottages. But my host either did not or would not
know anything about the matter. So I resolved to wander forth and
seek my fortune,—to roam inquisitive through the neighborhood, and
appeal to the indigenous sentiment of hospitality. But never did I see
a folk so devoid of this amiable quality. By dinner-time I had given up
in despair. After dinner I strolled down to the harbor, which is close at
hand. The brightness and breeziness of the water tempted me to
hire a boat and resume my explorations. I procured an old tub, with a
short stump of a mast, which, being planted quite in the centre, gave
the craft much the appearance of an inverted mushroom. I made for
what I took to be, and what is, an island, lying long and low, some
three or four miles, over against the town. I sailed for half an hour
directly before the wind, and at last found myself aground on the
shelving beach of a quiet little cove. Such a little cove! So bright, so
still, so warm, so remote from the town, which lay off in the distance,
white and semicircular! I leaped ashore, and dropped my anchor.
Before me rose a steep cliff, crowned with an old ruined fort or tower.
I made my way up, and about to the landward entrance. The fort is a
hollow old shell. Looking upward from the beach, you see the
harmless blue sky through the gaping loopholes. Its interior is
choked with rocks and brambles, and masses of fallen masonry. I
scrambled up to the parapet, and obtained a noble sea-view. Beyond
the broad bay I saw miniature town and country mapped out before
me; and on the other hand, I saw the infinite Atlantic,—over which,
by the by, all the pretty things are brought from Paris. I spent the
whole afternoon in wandering hither and thither over the hills that
encircle the little cove in which I had landed, heedless of the minutes
and my steps, watching the sailing clouds and the cloudy sails on the
horizon, listening to the musical attrition of the tidal pebbles, killing
innocuous suckers. The only particular sensation I remember was
that of being ten years old again, together with a general impression
of Saturday afternoon, of the liberty to go in wading or even
swimming, and of the prospect of limping home in the dusk with a
wondrous story of having almost caught a turtle. When I returned, I
found—but I know very well what I found, and I need hardly repeat it
here for my mortification. Heaven knows I never was a practical
character. What thought I about the tide? There lay the old tub, high
and dry, with the rusty anchor protruding from the flat green stones
and the shallow puddles left by the receding wave. Moving the boat
an inch, much more a dozen yards, was quite beyond my strength. I
slowly reascended the cliff, to see if from its summit any help was
discernible. None was within sight; and I was about to go down again
in profound dejection, when I saw a trim little sailboat shoot out from
behind a neighboring bluff, and advance along the shore. I
quickened pace. On reaching the beach, I found the newcomer
standing out about a hundred yards. The man at the helm appeared
to regard me with some interest. With a mute prayer that his feeling
might be akin to compassion, I invited him by voice and gesture to
make for a little point of rocks a short distance above us, where I
proceeded to join him. I told him my story, and he readily took me
aboard. He was a civil old gentleman, of the seafaring sort, who
appeared to be cruising about in the evening breeze for his pleasure.
On landing, I visited the proprietor of my old tub, related my
misadventure, and offered to pay damages, if the boat should turn
out in the morning to have sustained any. Meanwhile, I suppose, it is
held secure against the next tidal revolution, however insidious.—But
for my old gentleman. I have decidedly picked up an acquaintance, if
not made a friend. I gave him a very good cigar; and before we
reached home, we had become thoroughly intimate. In exchange for
my cigar, he gave me his name; and there was that in his tone which
seemed to imply that I had by no means the worst of the bargain. His
name is Richard Blunt, "though most people," he added, "call me
Captain, for short." He then proceeded to inquire my own titles and
pretensions. I told him no lies, but I told him only half the truth; and if
he chooses to indulge mentally in any romantic understatements,
why, he is welcome, and bless his simple heart! The fact is, that I
have broken with the past. I have decided, coolly and calmly, as I
believe, that it is necessary to my success, or, at any rate, to my
happiness, to abjure for a while my conventional self, and to assume
a simple, natural character. How can a man be simple and natural
who is known to have a hundred thousand a year? That is the
supreme curse. It's bad enough to have it: to be known to have it, to
be known only because you have it, is most damnable. I suppose I
am too proud to be successfully rich. Let me see how poverty will
serve my turn. I have taken a fresh start. I have determined to stand
upon my own merits. If they fail me, I shall fall back upon my
millions; but with God's help I will test them, and see what kind of
stuff I am made of. To be young, to be strong, to be poor,—such, in
this blessed nineteenth century, is the great basis of solid success. I
have resolved to take at least one brief draught from the pure founts
of inspiration of my time. I replied to the Captain with such
reservations as a brief survey of these principles dictated. What a
luxury to pass in a poor man's mind for his brother! I begin to respect
myself. Thus much the Captain knows: that I am an educated man,
with a taste for painting; that I have come hither for the purpose of
cultivating this taste by the study of coast scenery, and for my health.
I have reason to believe, moreover, that he suspects me of limited
means and of being a good deal of an economist. Amen! Vogue la
galère! But the point of my story is in his very hospitable offer of
lodgings. I had been telling him of my ill success of the morning in
the pursuit of the same. He is an odd union of the gentleman of the
old school and the old-fashioned, hot-headed merchant-captain. I
suppose that certain traits in these characters are readily convertible.
"Young man," said he, after taking several meditative puffs of his
cigar, "I don't see the point of your living in a tavern, when there are
folks about you with more house-room than they know what to do
with. A tavern is only half a house, just as one of these new-
fashioned screw-propellers is only half a ship. Suppose you walk
round and take a look at my place. I own quite a respectable house
over yonder to the left of the town. Do you see that old wharf with the
tumble-down warehouses, and the long row of elms behind it? I live
right in the midst of the elms. We have the dearest little garden in the
world, stretching down to the water's edge. It's all as quiet as
anything can be, short of a graveyard. The back windows, you know,
overlook the harbor; and you can see twenty miles up the bay, and
fifty miles out to sea. You can paint to yourself there the livelong day,
with no more fear of intrusion than if you were out yonder at the light-
ship. There's no one but myself and my daughter, who's a perfect
lady, Sir. She teaches music in a young ladies' school. You see,
money's an object, as they say. We have never taken boarders yet,
because none came in our track; but I guess we can learn the ways.
I suppose you've boarded before; you can put us up to a thing or
two."
There was something so kindly and honest in the old man's
weather-beaten face, something so friendly in his address, that I
forthwith struck a bargain with him, subject to his daughter's
approval. I am to have her answer to-morrow. This same daughter
strikes me as rather a dark spot in the picture. Teacher in a young
ladies' school,—probably the establishment of which Mrs. M——
spoke to me. I suppose she's over thirty. I think I know the species.
June 12th, A.M.—I have really nothing to do but to scribble.
"Barkis is willing." Captain Blunt brought me word this morning that
his daughter smiles propitious. I am to report this evening; but I shall
send my slender baggage in an hour or two.
P.M.—Here I am, housed. The house is less than a mile from the
inn, and reached by a very pleasant road, skirting the harbor. At
about six o'clock I presented myself. Captain Blunt had described
the place. A very civil old negress admitted me, and ushered me into
the garden, where I found my friends watering their flowers. The old
man was in his house-coat and slippers. He gave me a cordial
welcome. There is something delightfully easy in his manners,—and
in Miss Blunt's, too, for that matter. She received me very nicely. The
late Mrs. Blunt was probably a well-bred woman. As for Miss Blunt's
being thirty, she is about twenty-four. She wore a fresh white dress,
with a violet ribbon at her neck, and a rosebud in her button-hole,—
or whatever corresponds thereto on the feminine bosom. I thought I
discerned in this costume a vague intention of courtesy, of
deference, of celebrating my arrival. I don't believe Miss Blunt wears
white muslin every day. She shook hands with me, and made me a
very frank little speech about her hospitality. "We have never had
any inmates before," said she; "and we are, consequently, new to
the business. I don't know what you expect. I hope you don't expect
a great deal. You must ask for anything you want. If we can give it,
we shall be very glad to do so; if we can't, I give you warning that we
shall refuse outright." Bravo, Miss Blunt! The best of it is, that she is
decidedly beautiful,—and in the grand manner: tall, and rather
plump. What is the orthodox description of a pretty girl?—white and
red? Miss Blunt is not a pretty girl, she is a handsome woman. She
leaves an impression of black and red; that is, she is a florid
brunette. She has a great deal of wavy black hair, which encircles
her head like a dusky glory, a smoky halo. Her eyebrows, too, are
black, but her eyes themselves are of a rich blue gray, the color of
those slate-cliffs which I saw yesterday, weltering under the tide. Her
mouth, however, is her strong point. It is very large, and contains the
finest row of teeth in all this weary world. Her smile is eminently
intelligent. Her chin is full, and somewhat heavy. All this is a tolerable
catalogue, but no picture. I have been tormenting my brain to
discover whether it was her coloring or her form that impressed me
most. Fruitless speculation! Seriously, I think it was neither; it was
her movement. She walks a queen. It was the conscious poise of her
head, the unconscious "hang" of her arms, the careless grace and
dignity with which she lingered along the garden-path, smelling a red
red rose! She has very little to say, apparently; but when she speaks,
it is to the point, and if the point suggests it, with a very sweet smile.
Indeed, if she is not talkative, it is not from timidity. Is it from
indifference? Time will elucidate this, as well as other matters. I cling
to the hypothesis that she is amiable. She is, moreover, intelligent;
she is probably quite reserved; and she is possibly very proud. She
is, in short, a woman of character. There you are, Miss Blunt, at full
length,—emphatically the portrait of a lady. After tea, she gave us
some music in the parlor. I confess that I was more taken with the
picture of the dusky little room, lighted by the single candle on the
piano, and by the effect of Miss Blunt's performance, than with its
meaning. She appears to possess a very brilliant touch.
June 18th.—I have now been here almost a week. I occupy two
very pleasant rooms. My painting-room is a vast and rather bare
apartment, with a very good southern light. I have decked it out with
a few old prints and sketches, and have already grown very fond of
it. When I had disposed my artistic odds and ends in as picturesque
a fashion as possible, I called in my hosts. The Captain looked about
silently for some moments, and then inquired hopefully if I had ever
tried my hand at a ship. On learning that I had not yet got to ships,
he relapsed into a deferential silence. His daughter smiled and
questioned very graciously, and called everything beautiful and
delightful; which rather disappointed me, as I had taken her to be a
woman of some originality. She is rather a puzzle;—or is she,
indeed, a very commonplace person, and the fault in me, who am
forever taking women to mean a great deal more than their Maker
intended? Regarding Miss Blunt I have collected a few facts. She is
not twenty-four, but twenty-seven years old. She has taught music
ever since she was twenty, in a large boarding-school just out of the
town, where she originally got her education. Her salary in this
establishment, which is, I believe, a tolerably flourishing one, and the
proceeds of a few additional lessons, constitute the chief revenues of
the household. But Blunt fortunately owns his house, and his needs
and habits are of the simplest kind. What does he or his daughter
know of the great worldly theory of necessities, the great worldly
scale of pleasures? Miss Blunt's only luxuries are a subscription to
the circulating library, and an occasional walk on the beach, which,
like one of Miss Bronté's heroines, she paces in company with an old
Newfoundland dog. I am afraid she is sadly ignorant. She reads
nothing but novels. I am bound to believe, however, that she has
derived from the perusal of these works a certain practical science of
her own. "I read all the novels I can get," she said yesterday; "but I
only like the good ones. I do so like Zanoni, which I have just
finished." I must set her to work at some of the masters. I should like
some of those fretful New-York heiresses to see how this woman
lives. I wish, too, that half a dozen of ces messieurs of the clubs
might take a peep at the present way of life of their humble servant.
We breakfast at eight o'clock. Immediately afterwards, Miss Blunt, in
a shabby old bonnet and shawl, starts off to school. If the weather is
fine, the Captain goes out a-fishing, and I am left to my own devices.
Twice I have accompanied the old man. The second time I was lucky
enough to catch a big bluefish, which we had for dinner. The Captain
is an excellent specimen of the sturdy navigator, with his loose blue
clothes, his ultra-divergent legs, his crisp white hair, and his jolly
thick-skinned visage. He comes of a sea-faring English race. There
is more or less of the ship's cabin in the general aspect of this
antiquated house. I have heard the winds whistle about its walls, on
two or three occasions, in true mid-ocean style. And then the illusion
is heightened, somehow or other, by the extraordinary intensity of
the light. My painting-room is a grand observatory of the clouds. I sit
by the half-hour, watching them sail past my high, uncurtained
windows. At the back part of the room, something tells you that they
belong to an ocean sky; and there, in truth, as you draw nearer, you
behold the vast, gray complement of sea. This quarter of the town is
perfectly quiet. Human activity seems to have passed over it, never
again to return, and to have left a kind of deposit of melancholy
resignation. The streets are clean, bright, and airy; but this fact
seems only to add to the intense sobriety. It implies that the
unobstructed heavens are in the secret of their decline. There is
something ghostly in the perpetual stillness. We frequently hear the
rattling of the yards and the issuing of orders on the barks and
schooners anchored out in the harbor.

June 28th.—My experiment works far better than I had hoped. I

am thoroughly at my ease; my peace of mind quite passeth
understanding. I work diligently; I have none but pleasant thoughts.
The past has almost lost its terrors. For a week now I have been out
sketching daily. The Captain carries me to a certain point on the
shore of the harbor, I disembark and strike across the fields to a spot
where I have established a kind of rendezvous with a particular
effect of rock and shadow, which has been tolerably faithful to its
appointment. Here I set up my easel, and paint till sunset. Then I
retrace my steps and meet the boat. I am in every way much
encouraged. The horizon of my work grows perceptibly wider. And
then I am inexpressibly happy in the conviction that I am not wholly
unfit for a life of (moderate) labor and (comparative) privation. I am
quite in love with my poverty, if I may call it so. As why should I not?
At this rate I don't spend eight hundred a year.

July 12th.—We have been having a week of bad weather:

constant rain, night and day. This is certainly at once the brightest
and the blackest spot in New England. The skies can smile,
assuredly; but how they can frown! I have been painting rather
languidly, and at a great disadvantage, at my window.... Through all
this pouring and pattering, Miss Blunt sallies forth to her pupils. She
envelops her beautiful head in a great woollen hood, her beautiful
figure in a kind of feminine mackintosh; her feet she puts into heavy
clogs, and over the whole she balances a cotton umbrella. When she
comes home, with the rain-drops glistening on her red cheeks and
her dark lashes, her cloak bespattered with mud, and her hands red
with the cool damp, she is a profoundly wholesome spectacle. I
never fail to make her a very low bow, for which she repays me with
an extraordinary smile. This working-day side of her character is
what especially pleases me in Miss Blunt. This holy working-dress of
loveliness and dignity sits upon her with the simplicity of an antique
drapery. Little use has she for whalebones and furbelows. What a
poetry there is, after all, in red hands! I kiss yours, Mademoiselle. I
do so because you are self-helpful; because you earn your living;
because you are honest, simple, and ignorant (for a sensible
woman, that is); because you speak and act to the point; because, in
short, you are so unlike—certain of your sisters.

July 16th.—On Monday it cleared up generously. When I went to

my window, on rising, I found sky and sea looking, for their
brightness and freshness, like a clever English water-color. The
ocean is of a deep purple blue; above it, the pure, bright sky looks
pale, though it bends with an infinite depth over the inland horizon.
Here and there on the dark breezy water gleams the white cap of a
wave, or flaps the white cloak of a fishing-boat. I have been
sketching sedulously; I have discovered, within a couple of miles,
walk, a large, lonely pond, set in quite a grand landscape of barren
rocks and grassy slopes. At one extremity is a broad outlook on the
open sea; at the other, deep buried in the foliage of an apple-
orchard, stands an old haunted-looking farmhouse. To the west of
the pond is a wide expanse of rock and grass, of beach and marsh.
The sheep browse over it as upon a Highland moor. Except a few
stunted firs and cedars, there is not a tree in sight. When I want
shade, I seek it in the shelter of one of the great mossy boulders
which upheave their scintillating shoulders to the sun, or of the long
shallow dells where a tangle of blackberry-bushes hedges about a
sky-reflecting pool. I have encamped over against a plain, brown
hillside, which, with laborious patience, I am transferring to canvas;
and as we have now had the same clear sky for several days, I have
almost finished quite a satisfactory little study. I go forth immediately
after breakfast. Miss Blunt furnishes me with a napkin full of bread
and cold meat, which at the noonday hour, in my sunny solitude,
within sight of the slumbering ocean, I voraciously convey to my lips
with my discolored fingers. At seven o'clock I return to tea, at which
repast we each tell the story of our day's work. For poor Miss Blunt,
it is day after day the same story: a wearisome round of visits to the
school, and to the houses of the mayor, the parson, the butcher, the
baker, whose young ladies, of course, all receive instruction on the
piano. But she doesn't complain, nor, indeed, does she look very
weary. When she has put on a fresh calico dress for tea, and
arranged her hair anew, and with these improvements flits about with
that quiet hither and thither of her gentle footsteps, preparing our
evening meal, peeping into the teapot, cutting the solid loaf,—or
when, sitting down on the low door-step, she reads out select scraps
from the evening paper,—or else, when, tea being over, she folds
her arms, (an attitude which becomes her mightily,) and, still sitting
on the door-step, gossips away the evening in comfortable idleness,
while her father and I indulge in the fragrant pipe, and watch the
lights shining out, one by one, in different quarters of the darkling
bay: at these moments she is as pretty, as cheerful, as careless as it
becomes a sensible woman to be. What a pride the Captain takes in
his daughter! And she, in return, how perfect is her devotion to the
old man! He is proud of her grace, of her tact, of her good sense, of
her wit, such as it is. He thinks her to be the most accomplished of
women. He waits upon her as if, instead of his old familiar Esther,
she were a newly inducted daughter-in-law. And indeed, if I were his
own son, he could not be kinder to me. They are certainly—nay, why
should I not say it?—we are certainly a very happy little household.
Will it last forever? I say we, because both father and daughter have
given me a hundred assurances—he direct, and she, if I don't flatter
myself, after the manner of her sex, indirect—that I am already a
valued friend. It is natural enough that I should have gained their
good-will. They have received at my hands inveterate courtesy. The
way to the old man's heart is through a studied consideration of his
daughter. He knows, I imagine, that I admire Miss Blunt. But if I
should at any time fall below the mark of ceremony, I should have an
account to settle with him. All this is as it should be. When people
have to economize with the dollars and cents, they have a right to be
splendid in their feelings. I have prided myself not a little on my good
manners towards my hostess. That my bearing has been without