The Smile of the Stranger Read Online Free Page B

could not understand my wish to study history and write for a living—it made him excessively angry.”
    “What a stupid reason!” said Juliana. “If I have children, I shall allow them to become writers or—or carpenters, whatever they wish.”
    “Ay, but you have been brought up in Italy, my little one. In English society, matters are more carefully regulated. And besides, this was twenty, thirty years ago. Children were obliged to mind their parents.”
    “Do I not mind you, Papa?”
    “Sometimes!” he said, smiling. “But I am not near so strict with you as my father was with me.”
    “What were the other reasons for your quarrel?”
    “Well,” he replied, much more slowly, “the principal one was that your grandfather did not approve of the lady whom I wished to marry.”
    “My mother?”
    “Yes, child. Your mother.” His voice was hollow—heavy — he stared out over the darkening sea with a look of profound depression.
    “Why did Sir Horace not approve of her?” Juliana wanted to know.
    “First, because she came from a level of society which, he said, being lower than ours, was an unsuitable source for a partner: she was the daughter of an apothecary. He held that she was after nothing but my money.”
    “Your money? But we have so little money, Papa. Only what you earn from your writing.”
    “ Now that is so—yes; but your grandfather was—is—quite a rich man.”
    “But if you had enough money, why did it matter that you wished to marry a girl who had less?”
    “My father was certain that she did not truly love me; that she was merely after money and position. He said she was a sly, scheming, designing hussy.”
    Juliana thought about this for a little while. Then she said, “Was that true?”
    Her father likewise waited a moment to answer. Then, sighing, he replied, “Yes, my dear. I fear your grandfather was in the right about her. At that time, though, I was but a romantic, idealistic young fool, with my head full of ancient history—notions about chivalry—gallant knights—beautiful ladies—and so on! Laura seemed my ideal of the knight ’ s lady.”
    “My mother ’ s name was Laura?”
    “Laura Brooke.” He paused, and then said slowly, “And she was extremely beautiful—tall, pale, dark-haired—like some queen from a legend of romance.”
    “Oh ...” For some reason Juliana found that these words gave her a curious pang. After a while she asked, “But, in spite of my grandfather ’ s opposition, you married her?”
    “Yes, we married. I was of age, so he could not prevent me. But he could—and did—stop my allowance and cut me out of his will. He refused to support me or have anything more to do with me.”
    “What happened then?”
    Next moment Juliana wished that she had not asked, for her father ’ s face became so full of anguish that she could have bitten out her tongue. But his voice when he replied remained level enough.
    “First, my dear, you were born—and have been my chief delight and comfort ever since. Then—what followed was precisely what your grandfather had foretold. Your mother, disillusioned by a life of poverty and scraping care, as I tried to earn enough with my pen to support us all, soon decided that—that she had made a mistake in thinking that she loved me. She found others—another, whom she preferred. And so she left me. And you too. You, of course, were only a baby then.”
    “So why did you not make up the quarrel with my grandfather?”
    “He had said things that—that I could not forgive.”
    “And you were too proud to acknowledge that you also had been wrong,” Juliana said in a reflective tone. “I know your nature, you see, Papa.”
    “Perhaps.” There was a smile in his voice.
    “Did you never see my mother again? Did she never wish to see me ?”
    She asked the question wistfully. It seemed to her incredible that another man could be preferred above her father—so handsome, clever, and sweet-natured as he