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His attitude was tantamount to admission, and as such Eden construed it. "Thank God!" she exclaimed. "O God! I thank you. I am free." She still clutched her father's arm, and Maule made a movement toward her. "Yes," he said, as he did so, "yes, Miss Menemon " But before he could reach her, Usselex barred the way. "By what right, sir " he began, very firmly, but Eden interrupted him.
No; had I an enemy I could wish him no greater penance than success success prompt, vertiginous, immense! To the world, as I have found it, success is a crime, and its atonement, not death, but torture. Truly, Miss Menemon, humanity is not admirable. Men mean well enough, no doubt; but nature is against them. Libel is the tribute that failure pays to success.
It was for victims like myself that courts were invented." At this speech Mr. Menemon stood up again, and paced the room; his head was bent, and he had the appearance of one in deep perplexity. From time to time he raised his hand and stroked his back hair. And as he walked Eden continued, but her tone was gentler than before: "Father, you can never know.
You will keep him from me? you will get me back my liberty again?" Mr. Menemon had resumed his former place at the table, and sat there, his head still bent. But at this appeal he looked up and nodded abstractedly, as though his attention were divided between her and someone whom he did not see. "You are overwrought," he said. "Were you yourself, you would not speak in this fashion about nothing."
And now, as he paused for encouragement or rebuke, he saw that her eyes were in his. "Miss Menemon," he continued, "forget my outer envelope; if you could read in my heart, you would find it full of love for you." "Perhaps," she said, and smiled as at a vista visible only to herself. "I will tell my father what you say," she added demurely. With that answer Mr. Usselex was fain to be content.
One wonders where Kenyon Cox was at the time! Give this book at least two stars. "Eden" is the third of Saltus's fictions and possibly the poorest of the three. Eden is the name of the heroine whose further name is Menemon. Stuyvesant Square is her original habitat but she migrates to Fifth Avenue. The tide is flowing South again nowadays.
He is to be buried in Washington I hear. Well, well! he was a brave man and a staunch friend. Yes, he was all of that. Really, Eden, I ought to have gone. I suppose they will escort the body to the station. Did you hear the drums when you went up-stairs? It makes a man of my age feel that his turn may be next." Mr. Menemon crossed the room and looked out of the window.
Now you have that part of his existence in a nutshell. What do you say to it?" And Mr. Menemon coughed again, and glanced inquiringly at his daughter. "I say he is so base I might have known he was of royal blood." "Eden, you are singularly unjust." "But what does his birth matter to me?" she cried. "It was not for the presence or absence of forefathers that I put my hand in his.
"I don't bear your name; I throw it to the mud from which it sprang." "And you are right, Miss Menemon," Maule echoed. "You are right to do so." And again he moved to her. "Don't touch me," the girl cried; she was trembling. Evidently the excitement had been too much for her.
Menemon meanwhile was still in pursuit of the plea; but nothing of any cogency presented itself. In truth he had builded better than he knew. Anger burns itself out; already its force was spent, and the revelation he had made had affected his daughter like a douche.
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