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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of From the Housetops, by George Barr McCutcheon
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+Title: From the Housetops
+
+Author: George Barr McCutcheon
+
+Illustrator: F. Graham Cootes
+
+Release Date: June 17, 2006 [EBook #18612]
+Last updated: March 3, 2009
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FROM THE HOUSETOPS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE HOUSETOPS
+
+BY
+GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON
+
+Author of "Ghaustark," "The Hollow of Her Hand,"
+"The Prince of Graustark," etc.
+
+With Illustrations by
+F. GRAHAM COOTES
+
+
+
+
+Copyright, 1916
+By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC.
+_All rights reserved_
+Made in U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "Stop!" he cried eagerly. "Would you give up
+everything—everything, mind you,—if I were to ask you to do so?"]
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+========
+
+CHAPTER I                                       1
+CHAPTER II                                      9
+CHAPTER III                                    16
+CHAPTER IV                                     27
+CHAPTER V                                      39
+CHAPTER VI                                     57
+CHAPTER VII                                    76
+CHAPTER VIII                                   90
+CHAPTER IX                                    101
+CHAPTER X                                     120
+CHAPTER XI                                    137
+CHAPTER XII                                   155
+CHAPTER XIII                                  169
+CHAPTER XIV                                   185
+CHAPTER XV                                    197
+CHAPTER XVI                                   213
+CHAPTER XVII                                  230
+CHAPTER XVIII                                 247
+CHAPTER XIX                                   260
+CHAPTER XX                                    273
+CHAPTER XXI                                   292
+CHAPTER XXII                                  310
+CHAPTER XXIII                                 329
+CHAPTER XXIV                                  345
+CHAPTER XXV                                   359
+CHAPTER XXVI                                  376
+CHAPTER XXVII                                 391
+CHAPTER XXVIII                                405
+CHAPTER XXIX                                  421
+CHAPTER XXX                                   431
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE HOUSETOPS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Mr. Templeton Thorpe was soon to be married for the second time. Back in
+1860 he married a girl of twenty-two, and now in the year 1912 he was
+taking unto himself another girl of twenty-two. In the interim he had
+achieved a grandson whose years were twenty-nine. In his seventy-seventh
+year he was worth a great many millions of dollars, and for that and no
+other reason perhaps, one of the newspapers, in commenting on the
+approaching nuptials, declared that nobody could now deny that he was a
+philanthropist.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I daresay you are right, Mrs. Tresslyn," said old Templeton Thorpe's
+grandson, bitterly. "He hasn't many more years to live."
+
+The woman in the chair started, her eyes narrowing. The flush deepened in
+her cheeks. It had been faint before and steady, but now it was ominous.
+
+"I fear you are again putting words into my mouth," she said coldly. "Have
+I made any such statement?"
+
+"I did not say that you had, Mrs. Tresslyn," said the young man. "I merely
+observed that you were right. It isn't necessary to put the perfectly
+obvious into words. He is a very old man, so you are right in believing
+that he hasn't many years left to live. Nearly four times the age of
+Anne,—that's how old he is,—and time flies very swiftly for him."
+
+"I must again remind you that you are in danger of becoming offensive,
+Braden. Be good enough to remember that this interview is not of my
+choosing. I consented to receive you in—"
+
+"You knew it was inevitable—this interview, as you call it. You knew I
+would come here to denounce this damnable transaction. I have nothing to
+apologise for, Mrs. Tresslyn. This is not the time for apologies. You may
+order me to leave your house, but I don't believe you will find any
+satisfaction in doing so. You would still know that I have a right to
+protest against this unspeakable marriage, even though it should mean
+nothing more to me than the desire to protect a senile old man against
+the—"
+
+"Your grandfather is the last man in the world to be described as senile,"
+she broke in, with a thin smile.
+
+"I could have agreed with you a month ago, but not now," said he savagely.
+
+"Perhaps you would better go now, Braden," said she, arising. She was a
+tall, handsome woman, well under fifty. As she faced her visitor, her
+cold, unfriendly eyes were almost on a level with his own. The look she
+gave him would have caused a less determined man to quail. It was her way
+of closing an argument, no matter whether it was with her butcher, her
+grocer, of the bishop himself. Such a look is best described as imperious,
+although one less reserved than I but perhaps more potently metaphorical
+would say that she simply looked a hole through you, seeing beyond you as
+if you were not there at all. She had found it especially efficacious in
+dealing with the butcher and even the bishop, to say nothing of the effect
+it always had upon the commonplace nobodies who go to the butcher and the
+bishop for the luxuries of both the present and the future life, and it
+had seldom failed to wither and blight the most hardy of masculine
+opponents. It was not always so effective in crushing the members of her
+own sex, for there were women in New York society who could look straight
+through Mrs. Tresslyn without even appearing to suspect that she was in
+the range of vision. She had been known, however, to stare an English duke
+out of countenance, and it was a long time before she forgave herself for
+doing so. It would appear that it is not the proper thing to do. Crushing
+the possessor of a title is permissible only among taxi-drivers and
+gentlemen whose daughters are already married.
+
+Her stony look did not go far toward intimidating young Mr. Thorpe. He was
+a rather sturdy, athletic looking fellow with a firm chin and a well-set
+jaw, and a pair of grey eyes that were not in the habit of wavering.
+
+"I came here to see Anne," he said, a stubborn expression settling in his
+face. "Is she afraid to see me, or is she obeying orders from you, Mrs.
+Tresslyn?"
+
+"She doesn't care to see you," said Mrs. Tresslyn. "That's all there is to
+be said about it, Braden."
+
+"So far as I am concerned, she is still engaged to me. She hasn't broken
+it off by word or letter. If you don't mind, I'd like to have it broken
+off in the regular way. It doesn't seem quite proper for her to remain
+engaged to me right up to the instant she marries my grandfather. Or is it
+possible that she intends to remain bound to me during the lifetime of my
+grandparent, with the idea of holding me to my bargain when he is gone?"
+
+"Don't be ridiculous," was all that Mrs. Tresslyn said in response to this
+sarcasm, but she said it scathingly.
+
+For a full minute they stood looking into each other's eyes, each
+appraising the other, one offensively, the other defensively. She had the
+advantage of him, for she was prepared to defend herself while he was in
+the position of one who attacks without strategy and leaps from one
+exposed spot to another. It was to her advantage that she knew that he
+despised her; it was to his disadvantage that he knew she had always liked
+him after a manner of her own, and doubtless liked him now despite the
+things he had said to her. She had liked him from his boyhood days when
+report had it that he was to be the sole heir to his grandfather's
+millions, and she had liked him, no doubt, quite as sincerely, after the
+old man had declared that he did not intend to ruin a brilliant career by
+leaving a lot of uninspiring money to his ambitious grandson.
+
+In so many words, old Templeton Thorpe had said, not two months before,
+that he intended to leave practically all of his money to charity! All
+except the two millions he stood ready to settle upon his bride the day
+she married him! Possibly Mrs. Tresslyn liked the grandson all the more
+for the treasures that he had lost, or was about to lose. It is easy to
+like a man who will not be pitied. At any rate, she did not consider it
+worth while to despise him, now that he had only a profession to offer in
+exchange for her daughter's hand.
+
+"Of course, Mrs. Tresslyn, I know that Anne loves me," he said, with
+forced calmness. "She doesn't love my grandfather. That isn't even
+debatable. I fear that I am the only person in the world who does love
+him. I suspect, too, that if he loves any one, I am that one. If you think
+that he is fool enough to believe that Anne loves him, you are vastly
+mistaken. He knows perfectly well that she doesn't, and, by gad, he
+doesn't blame her. He understands. That's why he sits there at home and
+chuckles. I hope you will not mind my saying to you that he considers me a
+very lucky person."
+
+"Lucky?" said she, momentarily off her guard.
+
+"If you care to hear exactly how he puts it, he says I'm _damned_ lucky,
+Mrs. Tresslyn. Of course, you are not to assume that I agree with him. If
+I thought all this was Anne's doing and not yours, I should say that I am
+lucky, but I can't believe—good heavens, I will not believe that she could
+do such a thing! A young, beautiful, happy girl voluntarily—oh, it is
+unspeakable! She is being driven into it, she is being sacrificed to—"
+
+"Just one moment, Braden," interrupted Mrs. Tresslyn, curtly. "I may as
+well set you quite straight in the matter. It will save time and put an
+end to recriminations. My daughter does not care the snap of her fingers
+for Mr. Thorpe. I think she loves you quite as dearly now as she ever did.
+At any rate, she says she does. But that is neither here nor there. She is
+going to marry Mr. Thorpe, and of her own volition. I have advised her to
+do so, I will admit, but I have not driven her to it, as you say. No one
+but a fool would expect her to love that old man. He doesn't ask it of
+her. He simply asks her to marry him. Nowadays people do not always marry
+for love. In fact, they frequently marry to avoid it—at least for the time
+being. Your grandfather has told you of the marriage settlement. It is to
+be two million dollars, set apart for her, to be hers in full right on the
+day that he dies. We are far from rich, Anne and I. My husband was a
+failure—but you know our circumstances quite well enough without my going
+into them. My daughter is her own mistress. She is twenty-three. She is
+able to choose for herself. It pleases her to choose the grandfather
+instead of the grandson. Is that perfectly plain to you? If it is, my boy,
+then I submit that there is nothing further to be said. The situation is
+surely clear enough for even you to see. We do not pretend to be doing
+anything noble. Mr. Thorpe is seventy-seven. That is the long and short of
+it."
+
+"In plain English, it's the money you are after," said he, with a sneer.
+
+"Obviously," said she, with the utmost candour. "Young women of twenty-
+three do not marry old men of seventy-seven for love. You may imagine a
+young girl marrying a penniless youth for love, but can you picture her
+marrying a penniless octogenarian for the same reason? I fancy not. I
+speak quite frankly to you, Braden, and without reserve. We have always
+been friends. It would be folly to attempt to delude you into believing
+that a sentimental motive is back of our—shall we say enterprise?"
+
+"Yes, that is what I would call it," said he levelly. "It is a more
+refined word than scheme."
+
+"The world will be grateful for the opportunity to bear me out in all that
+I have said to you," she went on. "It will cheerfully, even gleefully
+supply any of the little details I may have considered unnecessary or
+superfluous in describing the situation. You are at liberty, then, to go
+forth and assist in the castigation. You have my permission,—and Anne's, I
+may add,—to say to the world that I have told you plainly why this
+marriage is to take place. It is no secret. It isn't improbable that your
+grandfather will consent to back you up in your denunciation. He is that
+kind of a man. He has no illusions. Permit me to remind you, therefore,
+that neither you nor the world is to take it for granted that we are
+hoodwinking Mr. Thorpe. Have I made myself quite clear to you, Braden?"
+
+The young man drew a deep breath. His tense figure relaxed. "I did not
+know there were such women in the world as you, Mrs. Tresslyn. There were
+heartless, soulless women among the Borgias and the Medicis, but they
+lived in an age of intrigue. Their acts were mildly innocuous when
+compared with—"
+
+"I must ask you to remember that you are in my home, Braden," she
+interrupted, her eyes ablaze.
+
+"Oh, I remember where I am, perfectly," he cried. "It was in this very
+room that Anne promised to become my wife. It was here that you gave your
+consent, less than a year ago."
+
+He had been pacing the floor, back and forth across the space in front of
+the fireplace, in which logs were blazing on this raw February afternoon.
+Now he stopped once more to face her resolutely.
+
+"I insist that it is my right to see Anne," he said. His eyes were
+bloodshot, his cheek pallid. "I must hear from her own lips that she no
+longer considers herself bound to me by the promise made a year ago. I
+demand that much of her. She owes it to me, if not to herself, to put an
+end to the farce before she turns to tragedy. I don't believe she
+appreciates the wickedness of the thing she is about to do. I insist that
+it is my right to speak with her, to urge her to reconsider, to point out
+to her the horrors of—"
+
+"She will not see you, Braden," broke in the mother, finality in her
+voice.
+
+"She _must_ see me," he shouted. "If not to-day, to-morrow; if not then,
+some other day, for, by the Eternal, Mrs. Tresslyn, I intend to speak with
+her if I have to wait until the accursed day you have selected,—at the
+very altar, if necessary. She shall not go into this thing until she has
+had the final word with me, and I with her. She does not know what she is
+doing. She is carried away by the thought of all that money—Money! Good
+God, Mrs. Tresslyn, she has told me a hundred times that she would marry
+me if I were as poor as the raggedest beggar in the streets. She loves me,
+she cannot play this vile trick on me. Her heart is pure. You cannot make
+me believe that she isn't honest and fair and loyal. I tell you now, once
+and for all, that I will not stand idly by and see this vile sacrifice
+made in order to—"
+
+"Rawson," interrupted Mrs. Tresslyn, looking beyond him in the direction
+of the door, "Doctor Thorpe is going. Will you give him his hat and coat?"
+She had pressed a button beside the mantelpiece, and in response to the
+call, the butler stood in the doorway. "Good day, Braden. I am sorry that
+Anne is unable to see you to-day. She—"
+
+"Good day, Mrs. Tresslyn," he choked out, controlling himself with an
+effort. "Will you tell her that I shall call to-morrow?"
+
+She smiled. "When do you expect to return to London? I had hoped to have
+you stay until after the wedding."
+
+His smile was more of an effort than hers. "Thanks. My grandfather has
+expressed the same hope. He says the affair will not be complete without
+my presence at the feast. To-morrow, at this hour, I shall come to see
+Anne. Thank you, Rawson."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+His gaze swept the long, luxurious drawing-room, now filled with the
+shadows of late afternoon. A sigh that ended in an unvoiced imprecation
+escaped him. There was not an object in the room that did not possess for
+him a peculiar claim of intimacy. Here he had dreamed of paradise with
+Anne, and here he had built upon his hopes,—a staunch future that demanded
+little of the imagination. He could never forget this room and all that it
+had held for him.
+
+But now, in that brief, swift glance, he found himself estimating the cost
+of all the treasures that it contained, and the price that was to be paid
+in order that they might not be threatened. These things represented
+greed. They had always represented greed. They had been saved out of the
+wreck that befell the Tresslyn fortunes when Anne was a young girl
+entering her teens, the wreck that destroyed Arthur Tresslyn and left his
+widow with barely enough to sustain herself and children through the years
+that intervened between the then and the now.
+
+He recalled that after the wreck had been cleared up, Mrs. Tresslyn had a
+paltry twenty-five thousand a year on which to maintain the house that,
+fortuitously, had been in her name at the time of the smash. A paltry sum
+indeed! Barely enough to feed and clothe one hundred less exacting
+families for a year; families, however, with wheelbarrows instead of
+automobiles, and with children instead of servants.
+
+Ten years had elapsed since the death of Arthur Tresslyn, and still the
+house in the east Seventies held itself above water by means of that
+meagre two thousand a month! These rare, almost priceless objects upon
+which he now gazed had weathered the storm, proof against the temptations
+that beset an owner embarrassed by their richness; they had maintained a
+smug relationship to harmony in spite of the jangling of discordant
+instruments, such as writs and attachments and the wails of insufferable
+creditors who made the usual mistake of thinking that a man's home is his
+castle and therefore an object of reprisal. The splendid porcelains, the
+incomparable tapestries and the small but exquisite paintings remained
+where they had been placed by the amiable but futile Arthur, and all the
+king's men and all the king's horses could not have removed them without
+Mrs. Tresslyn's sanction. The mistress of the house subsisted as best she
+could on the pitiful income from a sequestered half-million, and lived in
+splendour among objects that deluded even the richest and most arrogant of
+her friends into believing that nothing was more remote from her
+understanding than the word poverty, or the equally disgusting word
+thrift.
+
+Here he had come to children's parties in days when he was a lad and Anne
+a child of twelve, and here he had always been a welcome visitor and
+playmate, even to the end of his college years. The motherless, fatherless
+grandson of old Templeton Thorpe was cherished among heirlooms that never
+had had a price put upon them. Of all the boys who came to the Tresslyn
+house, young Braden Thorpe was the heir with the most potent possibility.
+He did not know it then, but now he knew that on the occasion of his
+smashing a magnificent porcelain vase the forgiving kiss that Mrs.
+Tresslyn bestowed upon his flaming cheek was not due to pity but to
+farsightedness. Somehow he now felt that he could smash every fragile and
+inanimate thing in sight, and still escape the kiss.
+
+Not the least regal and imposing object in the room was the woman who
+stood beside the fireplace, smiling as she always smiled when a situation
+was at its worst and she at her best. Her high-bred, aristocratic face was
+as insensitive to an inward softness as a chiseled block of marble is to
+the eye that gazes upon it in rapt admiration. She had trained herself to
+smile in the face of the disagreeable; she had acquired the _art_ of
+tranquillity. This long anticipated interview with her daughter's cast-
+off, bewildered lover was inevitable. They had known that he would come,
+insistent. She had not kept him waiting. When he came to the house the day
+after his arrival from England, following close upon a cablegram sent the
+day after the news of Anne's defection had struck him like a thunderbolt,
+she was ready to receive him.
+
+And now, quite as calmly and indifferently, she was ready to say good-bye
+to him forever,—to this man who until a fortnight before had considered
+himself, and rightly too, to be the affianced husband of her daughter. He
+meant nothing to her. Her world was complete without him. He possessed her
+daughter's love,—and all the love she would ever know perhaps,—but even
+that did not produce within her the slightest qualm. Doubtless Anne would
+go on loving him to the end of her days. It is the prerogative of women
+who do not marry for love; it is their right to love the men they do not
+marry provided they honour the men they do, and keep their skirts clear
+besides.
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn felt, and honestly too, that her own assurances that Anne
+loved him would be quite as satisfactory as if Anne were to utter them
+herself. It all came to the same thing, and she had an idea that she could
+manage the situation more ably than her daughter.
+
+And Mrs. Tresslyn was quite sure that it would come out all right in the
+end. She hadn't the remotest doubt that Anne could marry Braden later on,
+if she cared to do so, and if nothing better offered; so what was there to
+worry about? Things always shape themselves after the easiest possible
+fashion. It wasn't as if she was marrying a young man with money. Mrs.
+Tresslyn had seen things shape themselves before. Moreover, she rather
+hated the thought of being a grandmother before she was fifty. And so it
+was really a pleasure to turn this possible son-in-law out of her house
+just at this time. It would be a very simple matter to open the door to
+him later on and invite him in.
+
+She stood beside her hearth and watched him go with a calm and far from
+uneasy eye. He would come again to-morrow, perhaps,—but even at his worst
+he could not be a dangerous visitor. He was a gentleman. He was a bit
+distressed. Gentlemen are often put to the test, and they invariably
+remain gentlemen.
+
+He stopped at the door. "Will you tell Anne that I'll be here to-morrow,
+Mrs. Tresslyn?"
+
+"I shall tell her, of course," said Mrs. Tresslyn, and lifted her lorgnon.
+
+He went out, filled to the throat with rage and resentment. His strong
+body was bent as if against a gale, and his hands were tightly clenched in
+his overcoat pockets. In his haste to get away from the house, he had
+fairly flung himself into the ulster that Rawson held for him, and the
+collar of his coat showed high above the collar of the greatcoat,—a most
+unusual lapse from orderliness on the part of this always careful dresser.
+
+He was returning to his grandfather's house. Old Templeton Thorpe would be
+waiting there for him, and Mr. Thorpe's man would be standing outside the
+library door as was his practice when his master was within, and there
+would be a sly, patient smile on the servant's lips but not in his sombre
+eyes. He was returning to his grandfather's house because he had promised
+to come back and tell the old man how he had fared at the home of his
+betrothed. The old man had said to him earlier in the afternoon that he
+would know more about women than he'd ever known before by the time his
+interview was over, and had drily added that the world was full to
+overflowing of good women who had not married the men they
+loved,—principally, he was just enough to explain, because the men they
+loved preferred to marry other women.
+
+Braden had left him seated in the library after a stormy half-hour; and as
+he rushed from the room, he found Mr. Thorpe's man standing in the hall
+outside the door, just as he always stood, waiting for orders with the
+sly, patient smile on his lips.
+
+For sixty years Templeton Thorpe had lived in the house near Washington
+Square, and for thirty-two of them Wade had been within sound of his
+voice, no matter how softly he called. The master never rang a bell, night
+or day. He did not employ Wade to answer bells. The butler could do that,
+or the parlour-maid, if the former happened to be tipsier than usual. Wade
+always kept his head cocked a little to one side, in the attitude of one
+listening, and so long had he been at it that it is doubtful if he could
+have cocked it the other way without snapping something in his neck. That
+right ear of his was open for business twenty-four hours out of the day.
+The rest of his body may have slept as soundly as any man's, but his ear
+was always awake, on land or sea. It was his boast that he had never had a
+vacation.
+
+Braden, after his long ride down Fifth Avenue on the stage, found Wade in
+the hall.
+
+"Is my grandfather in the library, Wade?" he asked, surprised to find the
+man at the foot of the stairs, quite a distance from his accustomed post.
+
+"He is, sir," said Wade. "He asked me to wait here until you arrived and
+then to go upstairs for a little while, sir. I fancy he has something to
+say to you in private." Which was a naïve way of explaining that Mr.
+Thorpe did not want him to have his ear cocked in the hall during the
+conversation that was to be resumed after an advisable interval. Observing
+the strange pallor in the young man's usually ruddy face, he solicitously
+added: "Shall I get you a glass of—ahem!—spirits, sir? A snack of brandy
+is a handy thing to—"
+
+"No, thank you, Wade. You forget that I am a doctor. I never take
+medicine," said Braden, forcing a smile.
+
+"A very good idea, sir," said Wade.
+
+Meanwhile, Mrs. Tresslyn had reported to Anne, in the cosy little boudoir
+at the top of the house in the Seventies.
+
+"It is just as well that you insisted on me seeing him, dear," she said on
+entering the room. "He would have said things to you that you could not
+have forgiven. As it is, you have nothing to forgive, and you have saved
+yourself a good many tears. He—but, my dear, what's this? Have you been
+crying?"
+
+Anne, tall and slender, stood with her back to the window, her exquisite
+face in the shadows. Even in the dim, colourless light of the waning day,
+she was lovely—lovely even with the wet cheeks and the drooped, whimpering
+lips.
+
+"What did he say, mother?" she asked, her voice hushed and broken. "How
+did he look?" Her head was bent and she looked at her mother from beneath
+pain-contracted brows. "Was he angry? Was he desperate? Did—did he say
+that he—that he loved me?"
+
+"He looked very well, he was angry, he was desperate and he said that he
+loved you," replied Mrs. Tresslyn, with the utmost composure. "So dry your
+eyes. He did just what was to have been expected of him, and just what you
+counted upon. He—"
+
+"He honestly, truly said that he loved me?" cried the girl, lifting her
+head and drawing a deep breath.
+
+"Yes,—truly."
+
+Anne dried her eyes with a fresh bit of lace.
+
+"Sit down, mother, and tell me all about it," she said, jerking a small
+chair around so that it faced the couch. Then she threw herself upon the
+latter and, reaching out with a slender foot, drew the chair closer. "Sit
+up close, and let's hear what my future grandson had to say."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Braden Thorpe had spent two years in the New York hospitals, after
+graduation from Johns Hopkins, and had been sent to Germany and Austria by
+his grandfather when he was twenty-seven, to work under the advanced
+scientists of Vienna and Berlin. At twenty-nine he came back to New York,
+a serious-minded, purposeful man, wrapped up in his profession and
+heterodoxically humane, to use the words of his grandfather. The first day
+after his return he confided to his grim old relative the somewhat
+unprofessional opinion that hopelessly afflicted members of the human race
+should be put out of their misery by attending physicians, operating under
+the direction of a commission appointed to consider such cases, and that
+the act should be authorised by law!
+
+His grandfather, being seventy-six and apparently as healthy as any one
+could hope to be at that age, said that he thought it would be just as
+well to kill 'em legally as any other way, having no good opinion of
+doctors, and admitted that his grandson had an exceptionally soft heart in
+him even though his head was a trifle harder and thicker than was
+necessary in one so young.
+
+"It's worth thinking about, anyhow, isn't it, granddaddy?" Braden had
+said, with great earnestness.
+
+"It is, my boy," said Templeton Thorpe; "especially when you haven't got
+anything serious the matter with you."
+
+"But if you were hopelessly ill and suffering beyond all endurance you'd
+welcome death, wouldn't you?"
+
+"No, I wouldn't," said Mr. Thorpe promptly. "The only time I ever wanted
+to shuffle off was when your grandmother first refused to marry me. The
+second time she refused me I decided to do something almost but not quite
+so terrible, so I went West. The third time I proposed, she accepted me,
+and out of sheer joy I very stupidly got drunk. So, you see, there is
+always something to live for," he concluded, with his driest smile.
+
+"I am quite serious about it, grandfather," said Braden stiffly.
+
+"So I perceive. Well, you are planning to hang out your sign here in New
+York pretty soon, and you are going to become a licensed physician, the
+confrère and companion of a lot of distinguished gentlemen who believe
+just as you do about putting sufferers out of their misery but who
+wouldn't think of doing it, so I'd advise you to keep your opinions to
+yourself. What do you suppose I sent you abroad for, and gave you an
+education that few young men have received? Just to see you kicked out of
+your profession before you've fairly well put a foot into it, or a knife
+into a plutocrat, or a pill into a pauper? No, sirree, my boy. You sit
+tight and let the hangman do all the legal killing that has to be done."
+
+"Oh, I know perfectly well that if I advanced this theory,—or scheme,—at
+present, I'd be kicked out of the profession, notwithstanding the fact
+that it has all been discussed a million times by doctors in every part of
+the world. I can't help having the feeling that it would be a great and
+humane thing—"
+
+"Quite so," broke in the old man, "but let us talk of something else."
+
+A month later Braden came to him and announced that he and Anne Tresslyn
+were betrothed. They had known each other for years, and from the time
+that Anne was seventeen Braden had loved her. He had been a quiet, rather
+shy boy, and she a gay, self-possessed creature whose outlook upon life
+was so far advanced beyond his, even in those days of adolescence, that he
+looked upon her as the eighth wonder of the world. She had poise, manner,
+worldly wisdom of a pleasantly superficial character that stood for
+sophistication in his blissful estimate of her advantages over him, and
+she was so adroit in the art of putting her finger upon the right spot at
+precisely the right moment that he found himself wondering if he could
+ever bring himself up to her insuperable level.
+
+And when he came home after the two years in Europe, filled with great
+thoughts and vast pretentions of a singularly unromantic nature, he found
+her so much lovelier than before that where once he had shyly coveted he
+now desired with a fervour that swept him headlong into a panic of dread
+lest he had waited too long and that he had irretrievably lost her while
+engaged in the wretchedly mundane and commonplace pursuit of trifles. He
+was intensely amazed, therefore, to discover that she had loved him ever
+since she was a child in short frocks. He expected her to believe him when
+he said to her that she was the loveliest of all God's creatures, but it
+was more than he could believe when she declared that he was as handsome
+as a Greek god. That, of course, to him was a ludicrous thing to say, a
+delusion, a fancy that could not be explained, and yet he had seen himself
+in a mirror a dozen times a day, perhaps, without even suspecting, in his
+simplicity, that he was an extremely good-looking chap and well worth a
+second glance from any one except himself.
+
+The announcement did not come as a surprise to old Mr. Thorpe. He had been
+expecting it. He realised that Braden's dilatory tactics alone were
+accountable for the delay in bringing the issue to a head.
+
+"And when do you expect to be married?" he had inquired, squinting at his
+grandson in a somewhat dubious manner.
+
+"Within the year, I hope," said Braden. "Of course, I shall have to get a
+bit of a start before we can think of getting married."
+
+"A bit of a start, eh? Expect to get enough of a practice in a year to
+keep Anne going, do you?"
+
+"We shall live very economically."
+
+"Is that your idea or hers?"
+
+"She knows that I have but little more than two thousand a year, but, of
+course, it won't take much of a practice to add something to that, you
+know."
+
+"Besides, you can always depend upon me to help you out, Braden,—that is,
+within reason," said the other, watching him narrowly out of his shrewd
+old eyes.
+
+Braden flushed. "You have done more than enough for me already,
+grandfather. I can't take anything more, you see. I'm going to fight my
+own way now, sir."
+
+"I see," said Mr. Thorpe. "That's the way to talk, my boy. And what does
+Anne say to that?"
+
+"She thinks just as I do about it. Oh, she's the right sort, granddaddy,
+so you needn't worry about us, once we are married."
+
+"Perhaps I should have asked what her mother has to say about it."
+
+"Well, she gave us her blessing," said his grandson, with a happy grin.
+
+"After she had heard about your plan to live on the results of your
+practice?"
+
+"She said she wasn't going to worry about that, sir. If Anne was willing
+to wait, so was she."
+
+"Wait for what?"
+
+"My practice to pick up, of course. What do you mean?"
+
+"Just that, of course," said the old man quickly. "Well, my boy, while I
+daresay it isn't really necessary, I give my consent. I am sure you and
+Anne will be very happy in your cosy little five-room flat, and that she
+will be a great help to you. You may even attain to quite a fashionable
+practice,—or clientele, which is it?—through the Tresslyn position in the
+city. Thousand dollar appendicitis operations ought to be quite common
+with you from the outset, with Anne to talk you up a bit among the people
+who belong to her set and who are always looking for something to keep
+them from being bored to death. I understand that anybody who has an
+appendix nowadays is looked upon as exceedingly vulgar and is not even
+tolerated in good society. As for a man having a sound liver,—well, that
+kind of a liver is absolutely inexcusable. Nobody has one to-day if he can
+afford to have the other kind. Good livers always have livers,—and so do
+bad livers, for that matter. But, now, let us return to the heart. You are
+quite sure that Anne loves you better than she loves herself? That's quite
+important, you know. I have found that people who say that they love some
+one better than anybody else in the world, usually forget themselves,—that
+is to say, they overlook themselves. How about Anne?"
+
+"Rather epigrammatic, aren't you, granddaddy? I have Anne's word for it,
+that's all. She wouldn't marry me if she loved any one more than she does
+me,—not even herself, as you put it. I am sure if I were Anne I should
+love myself better than all the rest of the world."
+
+"A very pretty speech, my boy. You should make an exceptionally
+fashionable doctor. You will pardon me for appearing to be cynical, but
+you see I am a very old man and somewhat warped,—bent, you might say, in
+my attitude toward the tender passion as it is practised to-day. Still, I
+shall take your word for it. Anne loves you devotedly, and you love her.
+The only thing necessary, therefore, is a professional practice, or, in
+other words, a practical profession. I am sure you will achieve both. You
+have my best wishes. I love you, my boy. You are the only thing left in
+life for me to love. Your father was my only son. He would have been a
+great man, I am sure, if he had not been my son. I spoiled him. I think
+that is the reason why he died so young. Now, my dear grandson, I am not
+going to make the mistake with his son that I made with my own. I intend
+that you shall fight your own battles. Among other things, you will have
+to fight pretty hard for Anne. That is a mere detail, of course. You are a
+resolute, determined, sincere fellow, Braden, and you have in you the
+making of a splendid character. You will succeed in anything you
+undertake. I like your eye, my boy, and I like the set of your jaw. You
+have principle and you have a sense of reverence that is quite uncommon in
+these days of ours. I daresay you have been wicked in an essential sort of
+way, and I fancy you have been just as necessarily honourable. I don't
+like a mollycoddle. I don't like anything invertebrate. I despise a
+Christian who doesn't understand Christ. Christ despised sin but he didn't
+despise sinners. And that brings us back to Mrs. Tresslyn,—Constance Blair
+that was. You will have to be exceedingly well fortified, my boy, if you
+expect to withstand the clever Constance. She is the refinement of
+maternal ambition. She will not be satisfied to have her daughter married
+to a mere practice. She didn't bring her up for that. She will ask me to
+come and see her within the next few days. What am I to say to her when
+she asks me if I expect you and Anne to live on what you can earn out of
+your ridiculous profession?"
+
+"I think that's all pretty well understood," said Braden easily. "You do
+Mrs. Tresslyn an injustice, granddaddy. She says it will be a splendid
+thing for Anne to struggle along as we shall have to do for a while.
+Character building, is the way she puts it."
+
+"Just the same, I shall expect a message from her before the engagement is
+announced," said the old man drily.
+
+A hard glitter had come into his eyes. He loved this good-looking, earnest
+grandson of his, and he was troubled. He lay awake half the night thinking
+over this piece of not unexpected news.
+
+The next morning at breakfast he said to Braden: "See here, my boy, you
+spoke to me recently about your desire to spend a year in and about the
+London hospitals before settling down to the real business of life. I've
+been thinking it over. You can't very well afford to pay for these
+finishing touches after you've begun struggling along on your own hook,
+and trying to make both ends meet on a slender income, so I'd suggest that
+you take this next year as a gift from me and spend it on the other side,
+working with my good friend, Sir George Bascombe, the greatest of all the
+English surgeons. I don't believe you will ever regret it."
+
+Braden was overjoyed. "I should like nothing better, grandfather. By jove,
+you are good to me. You—"
+
+"It is only right and just that I should give to the last of my race the
+chance to be a credit to it." There was something cryptic in the remark,
+but naturally it escaped Braden's notice. "You are the only one of the
+Thorpes left, my boy. I was an only son and, strange as it may appear, I
+was singularly without avuncular relatives. It is not surprising,
+therefore, that I should desire to make a great man out of you. You shall
+not be handicapped by any failure on my part to do the right thing by you.
+If it is in my power to safeguard you, it is my duty to exercise that
+power. Nothing must be allowed to stand in the way or to obstruct your
+progress. Nothing must be allowed to check your ambition or destroy your
+courage. So, if you please, I think you ought to have this chance to work
+with Bascombe. A year is a short time to a chap of your age and
+experience, and it may be the most valuable one in a long and successful
+life."
+
+"If I can ever grow to be half as wise and half as successful as you,
+grandfather, I shall have achieved more than—"
+
+"My boy, I inherited my success and I've been more of a fool than you
+suspect. My father left me with two or three millions of dollars, and the
+little wisdom that I have acquired I would pass on to you instead of money
+if it were possible to do so. A man cannot bequeath his wisdom. He may
+inherit it, but he can't give it away, for the simple reason that no one
+will take it as a gift. It is like advice to the young: something to
+disregard. My father left me a great deal of money, and I was too much of
+a coward to become a failure. Only the brave men are failures. They are
+the ones who take the risks. If you are going to be a surgeon, be a great
+one. Now, when do you think you can go to London?"
+
+Braden, his face aglow, was not long in answering. "I'll speak to Anne
+about it to-night. If she is willing to marry me at once, we'll start
+immediately. By Jove, sir, it is wonderful! It is the greatest thing that
+ever happened to a fellow. I—"
+
+"Ah, but I'm afraid that doesn't fit in with my plan," interrupted the old
+man, knitting his brows. "It is my idea that you should devote yourself to
+observation and not to experimentation,—to study instead of honeymooning.
+A bride is out of the question, Braden. This is to be my year and not
+Anne's."
+
+They were a week thrashing it out, and in the end it was Mrs. Tresslyn who
+settled the matter. She had had her talk with Mr. Templeton Thorpe, and,
+after hearing all that he had to say, expressed herself in no uncertain
+terms on the advisability of postponing the wedding for a year if not
+longer. Something she said in private to Anne appeared to have altered
+that charming young person's notions in regard to an early wedding, so
+Braden found himself without an ally. He went to London early in the fall,
+with Anne's promises safely stowed away in his heart, and he came back in
+the middle of his year with Sir George, dazed and bewildered by her
+faithlessness and his grandfather's perfidy.
+
+Out of a clear sky had come the thunderbolt. And then, while he was still
+dazed and furious, his grandfather had tried to convince him that he had
+done him a deuce of a good turn in showing up Anne Tresslyn!
+
+In patience the old man had listened to his grandson's tirade, his
+ravings, his anathemas. He had heard himself called a traitor. He had
+smiled grimly on being described as a satyr! When words and breath at last
+failed the stalwart Braden, the old gentleman, looking keenly out from
+beneath his shaggy brows, and without the slightest trace of resentment in
+his manner, suggested that they leave the matter to Anne.
+
+"If she really wants you, my boy, she'll chuck me and my two-million-
+dollar purse out of the window, so to speak, and she'll marry you in spite
+of your poverty. If she does that, I'll be satisfied. I'll step down and
+out and I'll praise God for his latest miracle. If she looks at it from
+the other point of view,—the perfectly safe and secure way, you
+understand,—and confirms her allegiance to me, I'll still be exceedingly
+happy in the consciousness that I've done you a good turn. I will enter my
+extreme old age in the race against your healthy youth. I will proffer my
+three or four remaining years to her as against the fifty you may be able
+to give her. Go and see her at once. Then come back here to me and tell me
+what she says."
+
+And so it was that Braden Thorpe returned, as he had agreed to do, to the
+home of the man who had robbed him of his greatest possession,—faith in
+woman. He found his grandfather seated in the library, in front of a half-
+dead fire. A word, in passing, to describe this remarkable old man. He was
+tall and thin, and strangely erect for one of his years. His gaunt, seamed
+face was beardless and almost repellent in its severity. In his deep-set,
+piercing eyes lurked all the pains of a lifetime. He had been a strong,
+robust man; the framework was all that remained of the staunch house in
+which his being had dwelt for so long. His hand shook and his knee
+rebelled against exertion, but his eye was unwavering, his chin
+unflinching. White and sparse was the thatch of hair upon his shrunken
+skull, and harsh was the thin voice that came from his straight,
+colourless lips. He walked with a cane, and seldom without the patient,
+much-berated Wade at his elbow, a prop against the dreaded day when his
+legs would go back on him and the brink would appear abruptly out of
+nowhere at his very feet. And there were times when he put his hand to his
+side and held it there till the look of pain softened about his mouth and
+eyes, though never quite disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+It was Templeton Thorpe's contention that Braden was a family investment,
+and that a good investment will take care of itself if properly handled.
+He considered himself quite capable of making a man of Braden, but he did
+not allow the boy to think that the job was a one-sided undertaking.
+Braden worked for all that he received. There was no silver platter, no
+golden spoon in Mr. Thorpe's cupboard. They understood each other
+perfectly and Templeton Thorpe was satisfied with his investment.
+
+That is why his eyes twinkled when Braden burst into the library after his
+fruitless appeal to Mrs. Tresslyn. He smiled as one smiles with relief
+when a craft he is watching glides safely but narrowly past a projecting
+abutment.
+
+"Calm yourself," he remarked after Braden's somewhat wild and incoherent
+beginning. "And sit down. You will not get anywhere pacing this twenty by
+thirty room, and you are liable to run into something immovable if you
+don't stop glaring at me and watch out where you are going instead."
+
+"Sit down?" shouted Braden, stopping before the old man in the chair, his
+hands clinched and his teeth showing. "I'll never sit down in your house
+again! What do you think I am? A snivelling, cringing dog that has to lick
+your hand for—"
+
+"Now, now!" admonished the old man, without anger. "If you will not sit
+down, at least be kind enough to stand still. I can't understand half you
+say while you are stamping around like that. This isn't a china shop.
+Control yourself. Now, let's have it in so many words and not so many
+gesticulations. So Anne declined to see you, eh?"
+
+"I don't believe Anne had a voice in the matter. Mrs. Tresslyn is at the
+back of all this. She is the one who has roped you in,—duped you, or
+whatever you choose to call it without resorting to profanity. She's
+forcing Anne into this damnable marriage, and she is making a perfect fool
+of you. Can't you see it? Can't you see—but, my God, how can I ask that
+question of you? When a man gets to be as old as you, he—" He broke off
+abruptly, on the point of uttering the unforgivable.
+
+"Go on, my boy," said Templeton Thorpe quietly. "Say it. I shan't mind."
+
+"Oh, what's the use?" groaned the miserable lover. "I cannot say anything
+more to you, sir, than I said early this afternoon. I told you then just
+what I think of your treachery. There isn't anything more for me to say,
+but I'd like you to know that Anne despises you. Her mother acknowledges
+that much at least,—and, curse her, without shame!"
+
+"I am quite well aware of the fact, Braden," said the old man. "You
+couldn't expect her to love me, could you?"
+
+"Then, why in God's name are you marrying her? Why are you spoiling my
+life? Why are you—"
+
+"Is it spoiling your life to have the girl you love turn to and marry an
+old wreck such as I am, just because I happen to be willing to pay her two
+million dollars,—in advance, you might say? Is that spoiling your life or
+saving it?"
+
+Mr. Thorpe had dropped the cynical, half-amused air, and was now speaking
+with great intensity. Braden, struck by the change, turned suddenly to
+regard the old man with a new and puzzled light in his lowering eyes.
+
+"See here, my lad, you've had your chance. I knew what I was about when I
+sent you to see her. I knew precisely what would happen. She wants to
+marry you, but she prefers to marry me. That isn't as ambiguous as it
+sounds. Just think it over,—later on, not now, for I have something else
+to say to you. Do me the honour to be seated. Thank you. Now, you've got
+quite a good-sized, respectable nose upon your face. I submit that the
+situation is quite as plain as that nose, if you look at it in the broad
+light of understanding. If you think that I am marrying Anne because I
+love her, or because I am in my dotage and afflicted with senility, you
+are very much mistaken. If you think I am giving her two million dollars
+as a wedding gift because I expect it to purchase her love and esteem, you
+do my intelligence an injustice. If you think that I relish the prospect
+of having that girl in my house from now till the day I die, worrying the
+soul out of me, you are too simple for words. I am marrying her, not
+because I love her, my lad, but—but because I love _you_. God forbid that
+I should ever sink so low as to steal from my own flesh and blood.
+Stealing is one thing, bartering another. I expect to convince you that I
+have not taken anything from you that is of value, hence I am not a
+malefactor."
+
+Braden, seated opposite him, his elbows on the arms of the chair, leaned
+forward and watched the old man curiously. A new light had come into his
+eyes when Mr. Thorpe uttered those amazing words—"but because I love
+_you_." He was beginning to see, he was beginning to analyse the old man's
+motives, he was groping his way out of the fog.
+
+"You will have hard work to convince me that I have not been treated most
+unfairly, most vilely," said he, his lips still compressed.
+
+"Many years ago," said Mr. Thorpe, fixing his gaze on the lazy fire, "I
+asked Anne's grandmother to marry me. I suppose I thought that I was
+unalterably in love with her. I was the very rich son of a very rich man,
+and—pardon my conceit—what you would call an exceedingly good catch. Well,
+in those days things were not as they are now. The young lady, a great
+beauty and amazingly popular, happened to be in love with Roger Blair, a
+good-looking chap with no fortune and no prospects. She took the advice of
+her mother and married the man she loved, disdaining my riches and me as
+well. Roger wasn't much of a success as a husband, but he was a source of
+enlightenment and education to his wife. Not in the way you would suspect,
+however. He managed in very short order to convince her that it is a very
+ignorant mother who permits her daughter to marry a man without means.
+They hadn't been married three years when his wife had learned her lesson.
+It was too late to get rid of Roger, and by that time I was happily
+married to a girl who was quite as rich as I, and could afford to do as
+she pleased. So, you see, Anne's grandmother had to leave me out of the
+case, even though Roger would have been perfectly delighted to have given
+her sufficient grounds for divorce. I think you knew Anne's grandmother,
+Braden?" He paused for an answer, a sly, appraising look in his eyes.
+Receiving no response except a slight nod of the head, he chuckled softly
+and went on with the history.
+
+"Poor soul, she's gone to her reward. Now we come to Anne's mother. She
+was an only child,—and one was quite enough, I assure you. No mother ever
+had greater difficulty in satisfactorily placing a daughter than had Mrs.
+Blair. There was an army of young but not very dependable gentlemen who
+would have married her like a flash, notwithstanding her own poverty, had
+it not been for the fact that Mrs. Blair was so thoroughly educated by
+this time that she couldn't even contemplate a mistake in her
+calculations. She had had ample proof that love doesn't keep the wolf from
+the door, nor does it draw five per cent, as some other bonds do. She
+brought Constance up in what is now considered to be the most approved
+fashion in high society. The chap who had nothing but health and ambition
+and honour and brains to offer, in addition to that unprofitable thing
+called love, was a viper in Mrs. Blair's estimation. He was very properly
+and promptly stamped upon by the fond mother and doubtless was very glad
+to crawl off into the high grass, out of danger. He—"
+
+"What has all this got to do with your present behaviour?" demanded Braden
+harshly. "Speaking of vipers," he added, by way of comment.
+
+"I am coming to that," said Mr. Thorpe, resenting the interruption but not
+its sting. "After a careful campaign, Arthur Tresslyn was elected. He had
+a great deal of money, a kind heart and scarcely any brains. He was an
+ideal choice, everybody was agreed upon that. The fellow that Constance
+was really in love with at the time, Jimmy Gordon, was a friend of your
+father's. Well, the gentle Arthur went to pieces financially a good many
+years ago. He played hob with all the calculations, and so we find
+Constance, his wife, lamenting in the graveyard of her hopes and cursing
+Jimmy Gordon for his unfaithfulness in marrying before he was in a
+position to do so. If Jimmy had remained single for twelve years longer
+than he did, I daresay Arthur's widow would have succeeded in nabbing him
+whether or no. Arthur managed to die very happily, they say, quite well
+pleased with himself for having squandered the fortune which brought him
+so much misery. Now we come to Anne, Arthur's daughter. She became deeply
+enamoured of a splendid, earnest young chap named Braden Thorpe, grandson
+of the wealthy and doddering Templeton Thorpe, and recognised as his sole
+heir. Keep your seat, Braden; I am coming to the point. This young Thorpe
+trusted the fair and beautiful Anne. He set out to make a name and fortune
+for himself and for her. He sought knowledge and experience in distant
+lands, leaving his poor old grandfather at home with nothing to amuse
+himself with except nine millions of dollars and his dread of death. While
+Braden was experimenting in London, this doddering, senile old gentleman
+of Washington Square began to experiment a little on his own account. He
+set out to discover just what sort of stuff this Anne Tresslyn was made of
+and to prove to himself that she was worthy of his grandson's love. He
+began with the girl's mother. As soon as possible, he explained to her
+that money is a curse. She agreed that money is a curse if you haven't got
+it. In time, he confessed to her that he did not mean to curse his
+grandson with an unearned fortune, and that he intended to leave him in
+his will the trifling sum of fifty thousand dollars, thereby endowing him
+with the ambition and perhaps the energy to earn more and at the same time
+be of great benefit to the world in which he would have to struggle. Also,
+he let it be known that he was philanthropically inclined, that he
+purposed giving a great many millions to science and that his death would
+be of untold value to the human race. Are you attending, Braden? If you
+are not, I shall stop talking at once. It is very exhausting and I haven't
+much breath or time to waste."
+
+"I am listening. Go on," said Braden, suddenly sitting up in his chair and
+taking a long, deep breath. The angry, antagonistic light was gone from
+his eyes.
+
+"Well, the clever Mrs. Tresslyn was interested—deeply interested in my
+disclosures. She did not hesitate to inform me that Anne couldn't begin to
+live on the income from a miserable fifty thousand, and actually laughed
+in my face when I reminded her of the young lady's exalted preference for
+love in a cottage and joy at any price. Biding my time, I permitted the
+distressing truth to sink in. You will remember that Anne's letters began
+to come less frequently about four months ago, and—"
+
+"How do you happen to know about that?" broke in the young man, in
+surprise.
+
+"Where she had been in the habit of writing twice and even three times a
+week," went on Mr. Thorpe, "she was content to set herself to the task of
+dropping you a perfunctory letter once in a fortnight. You will also
+recall that her letters were not so full of intensity—or enthusiasm: they
+lacked fervour, they fell off considerably in many ways. I happen to know
+about all this, Braden, because putting two and two together has always
+been exceedingly simple for me. You see, it was about three months ago
+that Anne began to reveal more than casual interest in Percy Wintermill.
+She—"
+
+"Percy Wintermill!" gasped Braden, clutching the arms of his chair. "Why,
+she has always looked upon him as the stupidest, ugliest man in town. His
+attentions have been a standing joke between us. He is crazy about her, I
+know, but—oh, well, go on with the story."
+
+"To be sure he is crazy about her, as you say. That isn't strange. Half
+the young men in town think they are in love with her, and most of them
+believe she could make them happy. Now, no one concedes physical beauty or
+allurement to Percy. He is as ugly as they grow, but he isn't stupid. He
+is just a nice, amiable, senseless nincompoop with a great deal of money
+and a tremendous amount of health. He—"
+
+"I like Wintermill. He is one of my best friends. He is as square as any
+man I know and he would be the last person to try to come between Anne and
+me. He is too fond of me for that, sir. You—"
+
+"Unfortunately he was not aware of the fact that you and Anne were
+engaged. You forget that the engagement was to be kept under cover for the
+time being. But all this is beside the question. Mrs. Tresslyn had looked
+the field over pretty carefully. No one appeared to be so well qualified
+to take your place as Percy Wintermill. He had everything that is
+desirable in a husband except good looks and perhaps good manners. So she
+began fishing for Percy. Anne was a delightful bait. Of course, Percy's
+robust health was objectionable, but it wasn't insurmountable. I could see
+that Anne loathed the thought of having him for a husband for thirty or
+forty years. Anybody could see that,—even Percy must have possessed
+intelligence enough to see it for himself. Finally, about six weeks ago,
+Anne rose above her environment. She allowed Percy to propose, asked for a
+few days in which to make up her mind, and then came out with a point-
+blank refusal. She defied her mother, openly declaring that she would
+marry you in spite of everything."
+
+"And that is just what she shall do, poor girl," cried Braden joyously.
+"She shall not be driven into—"
+
+"Just a moment, please. When I discovered that young Wintermill couldn't
+be depended upon to rescue his best friend, I stepped into the arena, so
+to speak," said Mr. Thorpe with fine irony. "I sensed the situation
+perfectly. Percy was young and strong and enduring. He would be a long
+time dying in the natural order of things. What Anne was looking for—now,
+keep your seat, my boy!—what she wanted was a husband who could be
+depended upon to leave her a widow before it was too late. Now, I am
+seventy-seven, and failing pretty rapidly. It occurred to me that I would
+be just the thing for her. To make the story short, I began to dilate upon
+my great loneliness, and also hinted that if I could find the right sort
+of companion I would jump at the chance to get married. That's putting it
+rather coarsely, my boy, but the whole business is so ugly that it doesn't
+seem worth while to affect delicacy. Inside of two weeks, we had come to
+an understanding,—that is, an arrangement had been perfected. I think that
+everything was agreed upon except the actual day of my demise. As you
+know, I am to set aside for Anne as an ante-nuptial substitute for all
+dower rights in my estate, the sum of two million dollars. I may add that
+the securities guaranteeing this amount have been submitted to Mrs.
+Tresslyn and she has found them to be gilt-edged. These securities are to
+be held in trust for her until the day I die, when they go to her at once,
+according to our contract. She agrees to—"
+
+"By gad, sir, it is infamous! Absolutely infamous!" exclaimed young
+Thorpe, springing to his feet. "I cannot—I will not believe it of her."
+
+"She agrees to relinquish all claims to my estate," concluded the old man,
+with a chuckle. "Inasmuch as I have made it quite clear that all of my
+money is to go to charity,—scientific charity,—I imagine that the
+Tresslyns feel that they have made a pretty good bargain."
+
+"I still maintain that she will renounce the whole detestable—"
+
+"She would go back on her contract like a shot if she thought that I
+intended to include you among my scientific charities," interrupted the
+old man.
+
+"Oh, if I could only have an hour—half an hour with her," groaned Braden.
+"I could overcome the vile teaching of her mother and bring her to a
+realisation of what is ahead of her. I—"
+
+"Do you honestly,—in your heart, Braden,—believe that you could do that?"
+demanded Mr. Thorpe, arising from his chair and laying his hand upon the
+young man's shoulder. He forced the other's eyes to meet his. "Do you
+believe that she would be worthy of your love and respect even though she
+did back out of this arrangement? I want an honest answer."
+
+"God help me, I—I don't know what to think," cried Braden miserably. "I am
+shocked, bewildered. I can't say what I believe, grandfather. I only know
+that I have loved her better than my own soul. I don't know what to think
+now."
+
+"You might also say that she loves herself better than she loves her own
+soul," said the old man grimly. "She will go on loving you, I've no doubt,
+in a strictly physical way, but I wouldn't put much dependence in her
+soulfulness. One of these fine days, she will come to you and say that she
+has earned two million dollars, and she will ask you if it is too late to
+start all over again. What will you say to that?"
+
+"Good Lord, sir, what would you expect me to say?" exploded Braden. "I
+should tell her to—to go to hell!" he grated between his teeth.
+
+"Meanwhile, I want you to understand that I have acted for your best
+interests, Braden. God knows I am not in love with this girl. I know her
+kind, I know her breed. I want to save you from—well, I want to give you a
+fighting chance to be a great, good man. You need the love of a fine,
+unselfish woman to help you to the heights you aspire to reach. Anne
+Tresslyn would not have helped you. She cannot see above her own level.
+There are no heights for her. She belongs to the class that never looks up
+from the ground. They are always following the easiest path. I am doing
+you a good turn. Somewhere in this world there is a noble, self-
+sacrificing woman who will make you happy, who will give strength to you,
+who will love you for yourself and not for _herself_. Go out and find her,
+my boy. You will recognise her the instant you see her."
+
+"But you—what of you?" asked Braden, deeply impressed by the old man's
+unsuspected sentiment. "Will you go ahead and—and marry her, knowing that
+she will make your last few years of life unhappy, un—"
+
+"I am under contract," said Templeton Thorpe grimly. "I never go back on a
+contract."
+
+"I shall see her, nevertheless," said Braden doggedly.
+
+"It is my desire that you should. In fact, I shall make it my business to
+see that you do. After that, I fancy you will not care to remain here for
+the wedding. I should advise you to return to London as soon as you have
+had it out with her."
+
+"I shall remain here until the very hour of the wedding if it is to take
+place, and up to that very hour I shall do my best to prevent it,
+grandfather."
+
+"Your failure to do so will make me the happiest man in New York," said
+Mr. Thorpe, emotion in his voice, "for I love you dearly, Braden."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+A conspicuous but somewhat unimportant member of the Tresslyn family was a
+young man of twenty-four. He was Anne's brother, and he had preceded her
+into the world by the small matter of a year and two months. Mrs. Tresslyn
+had set great store by him. Being a male child he did not present the
+grave difficulties that attend the successful launching and disposal of
+the female of the species to which the Tresslyn family belonged. He was
+born with the divine right to pick and choose, and that is something that
+at present appears to be denied the sisters of men. But the amiable
+George, at the age of one and twenty and while still a freshman in
+college, picked a girl without consulting his parent and in a jiffy put an
+end to the theory that man's right is divine.
+
+It took more than half of Mrs. Tresslyn's income for the next two years,
+the ingenuity of a firm of expensive lawyers, the skill of nearly a dozen
+private detectives, and no end of sleepless nights to untie the loathsome
+knot, and even then George's wife had a shade the better of them in that
+she reserved the right to call herself Mrs. Tresslyn, quite permanently
+disgracing his family although she was no longer a part of it.
+
+The young woman was employed as a demonstrator for a new brand of mustard
+when George came into her life. The courtship was brief, for she was a
+pretty girl and virtuous. She couldn't see why there should be anything
+wrong in getting married, and therefore was very much surprised, and not a
+little chagrined, to find out almost immediately after the ceremony that
+she had committed a heinous and unpardonable sin. She shrank for a while
+under the lashings, and then, like a beast driven to cover, showed her
+teeth.
+
+If marriage was not sanctuary, she would know the reason why. With a
+single unimposing lawyer and not the remotest suggestion of a detective to
+reinforce her position, she took her stand against the unhappy George and
+his mother, and so successful were her efforts to make divorce difficult
+that she came out of chambers with thirty thousand dollars in cash, an
+aristocratic name, and a valuable claim to theatrical distinction.
+
+All this transpired less than two years prior to the events which were to
+culminate in the marriage of George's only sister to the Honourable
+Templeton Thorpe of Washington Square. Needless to say, George was now
+looked upon in the small family as a liability. He was a never-present
+help in time of trouble. The worst thing about him was his obstinate
+regard for the young woman who still bore his name but was no longer his
+wife. At twenty-four he looked upon himself as a man who had nothing to
+live for. He spent most of his time gnashing his teeth because the pretty
+little divorcee was receiving the attentions of young gentlemen in his own
+set, without the slightest hint of opposition on the part of their
+parents, while he was obliged to look on from afar off.
+
+It appears that parents do not object to young women of insufficient
+lineage provided the said young women keep at a safe distance from the
+marriage altar.
+
+It is interesting to note in this connection, however, that little Mrs.
+George Tresslyn was a model of propriety despite her sprightly
+explorations of a world that had been strange to her up to the time she
+was cast into it by a disgusted mother-in-law, and it is still more
+interesting to find that she nourished a sly hope that some day George
+would kick over the traces in a very manly fashion and marry her all over
+again!
+
+Be that as it may, the bereft and humiliated George favoured his mother
+and sister with innumerable half-hours in which they had to contend with
+scornful and exceedingly bitter opinions on the iniquity of marriage as it
+is practised among the elect. He fairly bawled his disapproval of the sale
+of Anne to the decrepit Mr. Thorpe, and there was not a day in the week
+that did not contain at least one unhappy hour for the women in his home,
+for just so often he held forth on the sanctity of the marriage vows.
+
+He was connected with a down-town brokerage firm and he was as near to
+being a failure in the business as an intimate and lifelong friend of the
+family would permit him to be and still allow him to remain in the office.
+His business was the selling of bonds. The friend of the family was the
+head of the firm, so no importance should be attached to the fact that
+George did not earn his salt as a salesman. It is only necessary to report
+that the young man made frequent and determined efforts to sell his wares,
+but with so little success that he would have been discouraged had it not
+been for the fact that he was intimately acquainted with himself. He knew
+himself too well to expect people to take much stock in the public
+endeavours of one whose private affairs were so far beneath notice. Men
+were not likely to overlook the disgraceful treatment of the little
+"mustard girl," for even the men who have mistreated women in their time
+overlook their own chicanery in preaching decency over the heads of others
+who have not played the game fairly. George looked upon himself as a
+marked man, against whom the scorn of the world was justly directed.
+
+Strange as it may appear, George Tresslyn was a tall, manly looking
+fellow, and quite handsome. At a glance you would have said that he had a
+great deal of character in his make-up and would get on in the world. Then
+you would hear about his matrimonial delinquency and instantly you would
+take a second glance. The second and more searching look would have
+revealed him as a herculean light-weight,—a man of strength and beauty and
+stature spoiled in the making. And you would be sorry that you had made
+the discovery, for it would take you back to his school days, and then you
+would encounter the causes.
+
+He had gone to a preparatory school when he was twelve. It was eight years
+before he got into the freshman class of the college that had been
+selected as the one best qualified to give him a degree, and there is no
+telling how long he might have remained there, faculty willing, had it not
+been for the interfering "mustard girl." He could throw a hammer farther
+and run the hundred faster than any youth in the freshman class, and he
+could handle an oar with the best of them, but as he had spent nearly
+eight years in acquiring this proficiency to the exclusion of anything
+else it is not surprising that he excelled in these pursuits, nor is it
+surprising that he possessed a decided aversion for the things that are
+commonly taught in college by studious-looking gentlemen who do not even
+belong to the athletic association and have forgotten their college yell.
+
+George boasted, in his freshman year, that if the faculty would let him
+alone he could easily get through the four years without flunking a single
+thing in athletics. It was during the hockey season, just after the
+Christmas holidays, that he married the pretty "mustard girl" and put an
+abrupt end to what must now be regarded as a superficial education.
+
+He carried his athletic vigour into the brokerage offices, however. No one
+could accuse him of being lazy, and no one could say that he did not make
+an effort. He possessed purpose and determination after a fashion, for he
+was proud and resentful; but he lacked perspective, no matter which way he
+looked for it. Behind him was a foggy recollection of the things he should
+have learned, and ahead was the dark realisation that the world is made up
+principally of men who cannot do the mile under thirty minutes but who
+possess amazing powers of endurance when it comes to running circles
+around the man who is trained to do the hundred yard dash in ten seconds
+flat.
+
+A few minutes after Braden Thorpe's departure from the Tresslyn drawing-
+room, young George entered the house and stamped upstairs to his
+combination bed-chamber and sitting-room on the top floor. He always went
+upstairs three steps at a time, as if in a hurry to have it over with. He
+had a room at the top of the house because he couldn't afford one lower
+down. A delayed sense of compunction had ordered Mrs. Tresslyn to insist
+upon George's paying his own way through life, now that he was of age and
+working for himself.
+
+When George found it impossible to pay his week's reckoning out of his
+earnings, he blithely borrowed the requisite amount—and a little over—from
+friends down-town, and thereby enjoyed the distinction of being uncommonly
+prompt in paying his landlady on the dot. So much for character-building.
+
+And now one of these "muckers" down-town was annoying him with persistent
+demands for the return of numerous small loans extending over a period of
+nineteen months. That sort of thing isn't done among gentlemen, according
+to George Tresslyn's code. For a month or more he had been in the
+humiliating position of being obliged to dodge the fellow, and he was
+getting tired of it. The whole amount was well under six hundred dollars,
+and as he had made it perfectly plain to the beggar that he was drawing
+ten per cent. on the loans, he couldn't see what sense there was in being
+in such a hurry to collect. On the other hand, as the beggar wasn't
+receiving the interest, it is quite possible that he could not look at the
+situation from George's point of view.
+
+Young Mr. Tresslyn finally had reached the conclusion that he would have
+to ask his mother for the money. He knew that the undertaking would prove
+a trying one, so he dashed up to his room for the purpose of fortifying
+himself with a stiff drink of benedictine.
+
+Having taken the drink, he sat down for a few minutes to give it a chance
+to become inspirational. Then he skipped blithely down to his mother's
+boudoir and rapped on the door,—not timidly or imploringly but with
+considerable authority. Receiving no response, he moved on to Anne's
+sitting-room, whence came the subdued sound of voices in conversation. He
+did not knock at Anne's door, but boldly opened it and advanced into the
+room.
+
+"Hello! Here you are," said George amiably.
+
+He was met by a cold, disapproving stare from his mother and a little gasp
+of dismay from Anne. It was quite apparent that he was an intruder.
+
+"I wish you would be good enough to knock before entering, George," said
+Mrs. Tresslyn severely.
+
+"I did," said George, "but you were not in. I always knock at your door,
+mother. You can't say that I've ever forgotten to do it." He looked
+aggrieved. "You surely don't mean that I ought to knock at Anne's door?"
+
+"Certainly. What do you want?"
+
+"Well," he began, depositing his long body on the couch and preparing to
+stretch out, "I'd like to kiss both of you if you'll let me."
+
+"Don't be silly," said Anne, "and don't put your feet on that clean
+chintz."
+
+"All right," said he cheerfully. "My, how lovely the bride is looking to-
+day! I wish old Tempy could see you now. He'd—"
+
+"If you are going to be disagreeable, George, you may get out at once,"
+said Mrs. Tresslyn.
+
+"I never felt less like being objectionable in my life," said he, "so if
+you don't mind I'll stay awhile. By the way, Anne, speaking of
+disagreeable things, I am sure I saw Brady Thorpe on the avenue a bit ago.
+Has your discarded skeleton come back with a key to your closet?"
+
+"Braden is in New York," said his mother acidly. "Is it necessary for you
+to be vulgar, George?"
+
+"Not at all," said he. "When did he arrive? I hope you don't see anything
+vulgar in that, mother," he made haste to add.
+
+"He reached New York to-day, I think. He has been here to see me. He has
+gone away. There is nothing more to be said, so please be good enough to
+consider the subject—"
+
+"Gee! but I'd like to have heard what he had to say to you!"
+
+"I am glad that you didn't," said Anne, "for if you had you might have
+been under the painful necessity of calling him to account for it, and I
+don't believe you'd like that."
+
+"Facetious, eh? Well, my mind is relieved at any rate. He spoke up like a
+little man, didn't he, mother? I thought he would. And I'll bet you gave
+him as good as he sent, so he's got his tail between his legs now and
+yelping for mercy. How does he look, Anne? Handsome as ever?"
+
+"Anne did not see him."
+
+"Of course she didn't. How stupid of me. Where is he stopping?"
+
+"With his grandfather, I suppose," said Mrs. Tresslyn, as tolerant as
+possible.
+
+"Naturally. I should have known that without asking. Getting the old boy
+braced up for the wedding, I suppose. Pumping oxygen into him, and all
+that sort of thing. And that reminds me of something else. I may give
+myself the pleasure of a personal call upon my prospective brother-in-law
+to-morrow."
+
+"What?" cried his mother sharply.
+
+"Yep," said George blithely. "I may have to do it. It's purely a business
+matter, so don't worry. I shan't say a word about the wedding. Far be it
+from me to distress an old gentleman about—"
+
+"What business can you have with Mr. Thorpe?" demanded his mother.
+
+"Well, as I don't believe in keeping secrets from you, mother, I'll
+explain. You see, I want to see if I can't negotiate the sale of a
+thousand dollar note. Mr. Thorpe may be in the market to buy a good, safe,
+gilt-edge note—"
+
+"Come to the point. Whose note are you trying to sell?"
+
+"My own," said George promptly.
+
+Anne laughed. "You would spell gilt with a letter u inserted before the i,
+in that case, wouldn't you?"
+
+"I give you my word," said George, "I don't know how to spell it. The two
+words sound exactly alike and I'm always confusing them."
+
+His mother came and stood over him. "George, you are not to go to Mr.
+Thorpe with your pecuniary difficulties. I forbid it, do you understand?"
+
+"Forbid it, mother? Great Scot, what's wrong in an honest little business
+transaction? I shall give him the best of security. If he doesn't care to
+let me have the money on the note, that's his affair. It's business, not
+friendship, I assure you. Old Tempy knows a good thing when he sees it. I
+shall also promise to pay twenty per cent. interest for two years from
+date. Two years, do you understand? If anything should happen to him
+before the two years are up, I'd still owe the money to his estate,
+wouldn't I? You can't deny that—"
+
+"Stop! Not another word, sir! Am I to believe that I have a son who is
+entirely devoid of principle? Are you so lacking in pride that—"
+
+"It depends entirely on how you spell the word, princi_pal_ or with a
+_ple_. I am entirely devoid of the one ending in pal, and I don't see what
+pride has to do with it anyway. Ask Anne. She can tell you all that is
+necessary to know about the Tresslyn pride."
+
+"Shut up!" said Anne languidly.
+
+"It's just this way, mother," said George, sitting up, with a frown. "I've
+got to have five or six hundred dollars. I'll be honest with you, too. I
+owe nearly that much to Percy Wintermill, and he is making himself
+infernally obnoxious about it."
+
+"Percy Wintermill? Have you been borrowing money from him?"
+
+"In a way, yes. That is, I've been asking him for it and he's been lending
+it to me. I don't think I've ever used the word borrow in a single
+instance. I hate the word. I simply say: 'Percy, let me take twenty-five
+for a week or two, will you?' and Percy says, 'All right, old boy,' and
+that's all there is to it. Percy's been all right up to a few weeks ago.
+In fact, I don't believe he would have mentioned the matter at all if Anne
+hadn't turned him down on New Year's Eve. Why the deuce did you refuse
+him, Anne? He'd always been decent till you did that. Now he's perfectly
+impossible."
+
+"You know perfectly well why I refused him," said Anne, lifting her
+eyebrows slightly.
+
+"Right-o! It was because you were engaged to Brady Thorpe. I quite forgot.
+I apologise. You were quite right in refusing him. Be that as it may,
+however, Percy is as sore as a crab. I can't go around owing money to a
+chap who has been refused by my sister, can I? One of the Wintermills,
+too. By Jove, it's awful!" He looked extremely distressed.
+
+"You are not to go to Mr. Thorpe," said his mother from the chair into
+which she had sunk in order to preserve a look of steadiness. A fine
+moisture had come out upon her upper lip. "You must find an honourable way
+in which to discharge your debts."
+
+"Isn't my note as good as anybody's?" he demanded.
+
+"No. It isn't worth a dollar."
+
+"Ah, but it _will_ be if Mr. Thorpe buys it," said he in triumph. "He
+could discount it for full value, if he wanted to. That's precisely what
+makes it good. I'm afraid you don't know very much about high finance,
+mother dear."
+
+"Please go away, George," complained Anne. "Mother and I have a great deal
+to talk about, and you are a dreadful nuisance when you discover a reason
+for coming home so long before dinner-time. Can't you pawn something?"
+
+"Don't be ridiculous," said George.
+
+"Why did you borrow money from Percy Wintermill?" demanded Mrs. Tresslyn.
+
+"There you go, mother, using that word 'borrow' again. I wish you
+wouldn't. It's a vulgar word. You might as well say, 'Why did you _swipe_
+money from Percy Wintermill?' He lent it to me because he realised how
+darned hard-up we are and felt sorry for me, I suppose."
+
+"For heaven's sake, George, don't tell me that you—"
+
+"Don't look so horrified, mother," he interrupted. "I didn't tell him we
+were hard-up. I merely said, from time to time, 'Let me take fifty,
+Percy.' I can't help it if he _suspects_, can I? And say, Anne, he was so
+terribly in love with you that he would have let me take a thousand any
+time I wanted it, if I'd had occasion to ask him for it. You ought to be
+thankful that I didn't."
+
+"Don't drag me into it," said Anne sharply.
+
+"I admit I was fooled all along," said he, with a rueful sigh. "I had an
+idea that you'd be tickled to death to marry into the Wintermill family.
+Position, money, family jewels, and all that sort of thing. Everything
+desirable except Percy. And then, just when I thought something might come
+of it, you up and get engaged to Brady Thorpe, keeping it secret from the
+public into the bargain. Confound it, you didn't even tell me till last
+fall. Your stupid secretiveness allowed me to go on getting into Percy's
+debt, when a word from you might have saved me a lot of trouble."
+
+"Will you kindly leave the room, George?" said his mother, arising.
+
+"Percy is making himself fearfully obnoxious," went on George ominously.
+"For nearly three weeks I've been dodging him, and it can't go on much
+longer. One of these fine days, mother, a prominent member of the
+Wintermill family is going to receive a far from exclusive thrashing.
+That's the only way I can think of to stop him, if I can't raise the money
+to pay him up. Some day I'm going to refrain from dodging and he is going
+to run right square into this." He held up a brawny fist. "I'm going to
+hold it just so, and it won't be too high for his nose, either. Then I'm
+going to pick him up and turn him around, with his face toward the
+Battery, and kick just as hard as I know how. I'll bet my head he'll not
+bother me about money after that—unless, of course, he's cad enough to sue
+me. I don't think he'll do that, however, being a proud and haughty
+Wintermill. I suppose we'll all be eliminated from the Wintermill
+invitation list after that, and it may be that we'll go without a
+fashionable dinner once in awhile, but what's all that to the preservation
+of the family dignity?"
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn leaned suddenly against a chair, and even Anne turned to
+regard her tall brother with a look of real dismay.
+
+"How much do you owe him?" asked the former, controlling her voice with an
+effort.
+
+"Five hundred and sixty-five dollars, including interest. A pitiful sum to
+get thrashed for, isn't it?"
+
+"And you were planning to get the money from Mr. Thorpe to pay Percy?"
+
+"To keep Percy from getting licked, would be the better way to put it. I
+think it's uncommonly decent of me."
+
+"You are—you are a bully, George,—a downright bully," flared Anne,
+confronting him with blazing eyes. "You have no right to frighten mother
+in this way. It's cowardly."
+
+"He doesn't frighten me, dear," said Mrs. Tresslyn, but her lips quivered.
+Turning to her son, she continued: "George, if you will mail a check to
+Percy this minute, I will draw one for you. A Tresslyn cannot owe money to
+a Wintermill. We will say no more about it. The subject is closed. Sit
+down there and draw a check for the amount, and I will sign it. Rawson
+will post it."
+
+George turned his head away, and lowered his chin. A huskiness came
+quickly into his voice.
+
+"I'm—I'm ashamed of myself, mother,—I give you my word I am. I came here
+intending to ask you point-blank to advance me the money. Then the idea
+came into my head to work the bluff about old Mr. Thorpe. That grew into
+Percy's prospective thrashing. I'm sorry. It's the first time I've ever
+tried to put anything over on you."
+
+"Fill in the check, please," she said coldly. "I've just been drawing a
+few for the dressmakers—a few that Anne has just remembered. I shan't in
+the least mind adding one for Percy. He isn't a dressmaker but if I were
+asked to select a suitable occupation for him I don't know of one he'd be
+better qualified to pursue. Fill it in, please."
+
+Her son looked at her admiringly. "By Jove, mother, you are a wonder. You
+never miss fire. I'd give a thousand dollars, if I had it, to see old Mrs.
+Wintermill's face if that remark could be repeated to her."
+
+A faint smile played about his mother's lips. After all, there was honest
+tribute in the speech of this son of hers.
+
+"It would be worse than a bloody nose for Percy," said Anne, slipping an
+arm around her mother's waist. "But I don't like what you said about _me_
+and the dressmakers. I must have gowns. It isn't quite the same as
+George's I.O.U. to Percy, you know."
+
+"Don't be selfish, Anne," cried George, jerking a chair up to the
+escritoire and scrambling among the papers for a pen. "You won't have to
+worry long. You'll soon be so rich that the dressmakers won't dare to send
+you a bill."
+
+"Wait a moment, George," said Mrs. Tresslyn abruptly. "If you do not
+promise to refrain from saying disagreeable things to Anne, I shall
+withdraw my offer to help you out of this scrape."
+
+George faced her. "Does that mean that I am to put my O.K. upon this
+wedding of Anne's?" His look of good-nature disappeared.
+
+"It means that you are not to comment upon it, that's all," said his
+mother. "You have said quite enough. There is nothing more that you can
+add to an already sufficiently distasteful argument."
+
+George swallowed hard as he bent over the checkbook. "All right, mother,
+I'll try to keep my trap closed from now on. But I don't want you to think
+that I'm taking this thing pleasantly. I'll say for the last time,—I
+hope,—that it's a darned crime, and we'll let it go at that."
+
+"Very well. We will let it go at that."
+
+"Great Scot!" burst from his lips as he whirled in the fragile chair to
+face the women of the house. "I just can't help feeling as I do about it.
+I can't bear to think of Anne,—my pretty sister Anne,—married to that old
+rummy. Why, she's fit to be the wife of a god. She's the prettiest girl in
+New York and she'd be one of the best if she had half a chance. A fellow
+like Braden Thorpe would make a queen of her, and that's just what she
+ought to be. Oh, Lord! To think of her being married to that burnt-out,
+shrivelled-up—"
+
+"George! That will do, sir!"
+
+His sister was staring at him in utter perplexity. Something like wonder
+was growing in her lovely, velvety eyes. Never before had she heard such
+words as these from the lips of her big and hitherto far from considerate
+brother, the brother who had always begrudged her the slightest sign of
+favour from their mother, who had blamed her for securing by unfair means
+more than her share of the maternal peace-offerings.
+
+Suddenly the big boy dug his knuckles into his eyes and turned away,
+muttering an oath of mortification. Anne sprang to his side. Her hands
+fell upon his shoulders.
+
+"What are you doing, George? Are—are you crazy?"
+
+"Crazy _nothing_," he choked out, biting his lip. "Go away, Anne. I'm just
+a damned fool, that's all. I—"
+
+"Mother, he's—he's crying," whispered Anne, bewildered. "What is it,
+George?" For the first time in her life she slipped an affectionate arm
+about him and laid her cheek against his sleek, black hair. "Buck up,
+little boy; don't take it like this. I'll—I'll be all right. I'll—oh, I'll
+never forget you for feeling as you do, George. I didn't think you'd
+really care so much."
+
+"Why,—why, Anne, of course I care," he gulped. "Why shouldn't I care?
+Aren't you my sister, and I your brother? I'd be a fine mess of a thing if
+I didn't care. I tell you, mother, it's awful! You know it is! It is a
+queer thing for a brother to say, I suppose, but—but I _do_ love Anne. All
+my life I've looked upon her as the finest thing in the world. I've been
+mean and nasty and all that sort of thing and I'm always saying rotten
+things to her, but, darn it, I—I do love my pretty sister. I ought to hate
+you, Anne, for this infernal thing you are determined to do—I ought to, do
+you understand, but I can't, I just can't. It's the rottenest thing a girl
+can do, and you're doing it, I—oh, say, what's the matter with me?
+Sniffling idiot! I say, where the devil _do_ you keep your pen?"
+Wrathfully he jerked a pile of note paper and blotters off the desk,
+scattering them on the floor. "I'll write the check, mother, and I'll
+promise to do my best hereafter about Anne and old Tempy. And what's more,
+I'll not punch Percy's nose, so you needn't be afraid he'll turn it up at
+us."
+
+The pen scratched vigorously across the check. His mother was regarding
+him with a queer expression in her eyes. She had not moved while he was
+expressing himself so feelingly about Anne. Was it possible that after all
+there was something fine in this boy of hers? His simple, genuine outburst
+was a revelation to her.
+
+"I trust this may be the last time that you will come to me for money in
+this way, George," she said levelly. "You must be made to realise that I
+cannot afford such luxuries as these. You have made it impossible for me
+to refuse you this time. I cannot allow a son of mine to be in debt to a
+Wintermill. You must not borrow money. You—"
+
+He looked up, grinning. "There you go again with that middle-class word,
+mother. But I'll forgive you this once on condition that you never use it
+again. People in our walk of life never _borrow_ anything but trouble, you
+know. We don't borrow money. We arrange for it occasionally, but God
+forbid that we should ever become so common as to borrow it. There you
+are, filled in and ready for your autograph—payable to Percy Reginald Van
+Alstone Wintermill. I put his whole name in so that he'd have to go to the
+exertion of signing it all on the back. He hates work worse than poison.
+I'm glad you didn't accept him, Anne. It would be awful to have to look up
+to a man who is so insignificant that you'd have to look down upon him at
+the same time."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn signed the check. "I will have Rawson post it to him at
+once," she said. "There goes one of your gowns, Anne,—five hundred and
+sixty-five dollars."
+
+"I shan't miss it, mother dear," said Anne cheerfully. She had linked an
+arm through one of George's, much to the surprise and embarrassment of the
+tall young man.
+
+"Bully girl," said he awkwardly. "Just for that I'll kiss the bride next
+month, and wish her the best of luck. I—I certainly hope you'll have
+better luck than I had."
+
+"There's still loads of luck ahead for you, George," said she, a little
+wistfully. "All you've got to do is to keep a sharp lookout and you'll
+find it some day—sooner than I, I'm sure. You'll find the right girl
+and—zip! Everything will be rosy, old boy!"
+
+He smiled wryly. "I've lost the right girl, Anne."
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Tresslyn sharply. Her eyes narrowed as she
+looked into his. "You ought to get down on your knees and thank God that
+you are not married to that—"
+
+"Wait a second, mother," he broke in. "I'm afraid I shall have to ask you
+to let her alone, now that you're rid of her, just as I'm expected to let
+old Tempy slide by without noticing him."
+
+"Nonsense," again said Mrs. Tresslyn, but this time with less confidence
+in her voice. She looked intently into her son's set face and fear was
+revived in her soul, an ever-present fear that slept and roused itself
+with sickening persistency.
+
+"We'll hang her up in the family closet, if you don't mind, alongside of
+Brady Thorpe, and we'll never mention her again if I can help it. I must
+say, though, that our skeletons are uncommonly attractive, aren't they,
+Anne? No dry, rattling bones in our closets, are there?" He squeezed her
+arm playfully, and was amazed when she jerked it away.
+
+"I was nice to you, George, and this is the way you—"
+
+"Forgive me, please. I didn't mean it in an offensive way. I just took it
+for granted that we'd understand each other. At any rate, we've got one
+thing to be thankful for. There are no Wintermill skeletons hanging in our
+closets. We've both succeeded in dodging them, praise the Lord."
+
+It so happened that Percy's excessively homely sister had been considered
+at one time as a most desirable helpmate for the rapidly developing
+George, and it is barely possible that the little mustard girl upset a
+social dynasty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+Mr. Thorpe was as good as his word. He arranged for the meeting between
+Braden and Anne, but with characteristic astuteness laid his plans so that
+they were to come upon each other unexpectedly. It happened on the second
+day after his talk with Braden.
+
+Mr. Thorpe's plan involved other people as well as the two most vitally
+interested. There was to be a meeting at his house late in the afternoon
+for the purpose of signing the ante-nuptial contract already agreed upon.
+Five o'clock was the hour set for the gathering. Lawyers representing both
+parties were to be there, with Mrs. Tresslyn, George and Anne, and Mr.
+Thorpe's private secretary, who, with Dr. Bates, was to serve as a witness
+to the instrument.
+
+At noon Wade delivered a letter to Miss Tresslyn in which Mr. Thorpe said
+that he would be pleased if she would accompany him to Tiffany's for the
+purpose of selecting a string of pearls. He made it quite clear that she
+was to go alone with him, playfully mentioning his desire to be the only
+witness to her confusion when confronted by the "obsequious salesman and
+his baubles from the sea." If quite agreeable to her he would make an
+appointment with the jeweller for 3.30 and would call for her in person.
+After that, he continued, the signing of a contract for life would not
+seem such a portentous undertaking, and they could go to the meeting with
+hearts as light as air. It was a cheerful, even gay little missive, but
+she was not for an instant blind to the irony that lay between the lines.
+
+Anne selected the pearls that he had chosen in advance of their visit to
+Tiffany's. He did not tell her that he had instructed the jeweller to make
+up a string of pearls for her inspection, with the understanding that she
+was to choose for herself from an assortment of half-a-dozen beautiful
+offerings, no price to be mentioned. He was quite sure that she would not
+even consider the cost. He credited her with an honest scorn for
+sentimentality; she would make no effort to glorify him for an act that
+was so obviously a part of their unsentimental compact. There would be no
+gushing over this sardonic tribute to her avarice. She would have herself
+too well in hand for that.
+
+They were about her neck when she entered the house near Washington Square
+almost an hour before the time appointed for the conference. In her secret
+but subdued pleasure over acquiring the costly present, she had lost all
+count of time. That was a part of Mr. Thorpe's expensive programme.
+
+All the way down in the automobile she had been estimating the value of
+her new possession. On one point she was satisfied: there were few
+handsomer strings in New York than hers. She would have to keep them in a
+safe place,—a vault, no doubt. Nearly every matron of her acquaintance
+made a great deal of the fact that she had to buy a safe in which to store
+her treasures. There was something agreeable—subtly agreeable—in owning
+jewels that would have to be kept in one of those staunch, opulent looking
+safes. She experienced a thrill of satisfaction by describing herself in
+advance, as one of the women with pearls. And there was additional
+gratification in the knowledge that she could hardly be called a matron in
+the strict sense of the word. She was glad that she was too young for
+that. She tried to recall the names of all the women who possessed pearls
+like these, and the apparent though undeclared age of each. There was not
+one among them who was under forty. Most of them had endured many years of
+married life before acquiring what she was to have at the outset. Mrs.
+Wintermill, for instance: she was sixty-two or three, and had but recently
+come into a string of pearls not a whit more valuable than the one that
+now adorned her neck and lay hidden beneath the warm fur collar of her
+coat.
+
+Her calculations suddenly hit upon something that could be used as a
+basis. Mrs. Wintermill's pearls had cost sixty-five thousand dollars.
+Sixty-five thousand dollars! She could not resist the impulse to shoot a
+swift, startled look out of the corners of her eyes at the silent old man
+beside her. That was a lot of money! And it was money that he was under no
+obligation to expend upon her. It was quite outside the contract. She was
+puzzled. Why this uncalled for generosity? A queer, sickening doubt
+assailed her.
+
+"Are—are these pearls really and truly to be mine?" she asked. "Mine to
+keep forever?"
+
+"Certainly, my dear," he said, looking at her so oddly that she flushed.
+He had read the thought that was in her mind. "I give and bequeath them to
+you this day, to have and to hold forever," he added, with a smile that
+she could not fail to understand.
+
+"I wanted to be sure," she said, resorting to frankness.
+
+When they entered the Thorpe home, Wade was waiting in the hall with the
+butler. His patient, set smile did not depart so much as the fraction of
+an inch from its habitual condition. His head was cocked a little to one
+side.
+
+"Are we late, Wade?" inquired Mr. Thorpe.
+
+"No, sir," said Wade. "No one has come." He glanced up at the tall clock
+on the landing. "It is a quarter past four, sir. Mrs. Tresslyn telephoned
+a few minutes ago, sir."
+
+"Ah! That she would be late?"
+
+"No, sir. To inquire if—ahem!—if Mr. Braden was likely to be here this
+afternoon."
+
+Anne started violently. A quick, hunted expression leaped into her eyes as
+she looked about her. Something rushed up into her throat, something that
+smothered.
+
+"You informed her, of course, that Mr. Braden declines to honour us with
+his presence," said Mr. Thorpe suavely.
+
+"Yes, sir, in a way."
+
+"Ahem! Well, my dear, make yourself quite at home. Go into the library,
+do. You'll find a roaring fire there. Murray, take Miss Tresslyn's coat.
+Make her comfortable. Come, Wade, your arm. Forgive me, Anne, if I leave
+you to yourself for a few minutes. My joy at having you here is shorn of
+its keenness by a long-established age that demands house-boots, an eider-
+down coat and—Murray, what the devil do you mean by letting the house get
+so cold as all this? It's like a barn. Are the furnaces out. What am I
+paying that rascally O'Toole for? Tell him to—"
+
+"It is quite comfortable, Mr. Thorpe," said Anne, with a slight shiver
+that was not to be charged to the defective O'Toole.
+
+The long, wide hall was dark and grim. Wade was dark and grim, and Murray
+too, despite his rotundity. There were lank shadows at the bottom of the
+hall, grim projections of objects that stood for ornamentation: a suit of
+armour, a gloomy candlestick of prodigious stature, and a thin Italian
+cabinet surmounted by an urn whose unexposed contents might readily have
+suggested something more sinister than the dust of antiquity. The door to
+the library was open. Fitful red shadows flashed dully from the fireplace
+across the room, creeping out into the hall and then darting back again as
+if afraid to venture. The waning sunlight struggled through a curtained
+window at the top of the stairs. There was dusk in the house. Evening had
+fallen there.
+
+Anne stood in the middle of the library, divested of her warm fur coat.
+Murray was poking the fire, and cheerful flames were leaping upward in
+response to the call to wake. She had removed one of her gloves. With the
+slim, bared fingers she fondled the pearls about her neck, but her
+thoughts were not of baubles. She was thinking of this huge room full of
+shadows, shadows through which she would have to walk for many a day,
+where night would always be welcome because of the light it demanded.
+
+It was a man's room. Everything in it was massive, substantial. Big
+chairs, wide lounges, and a thick soft carpet of dull red that deprived
+the footfall of its sound. Books mounted high,—almost to the
+ceiling,—filling all the spaces left unused by the doors and windows.
+Heavy damask curtains shut out the light of day. She wondered why they had
+been drawn so early, and whether they were always drawn like this. Near
+the big fireplace, with its long mantelpiece over which hung suspended the
+portrait of an early Knickerbocker gentleman with ruddy, even convivial
+countenance, stood a long table, a reading lamp at the farther end. Books,
+magazines, papers lay in disorder upon this table.
+
+She recalled something that Braden once had told her: his grandfather
+always "raised Cain" with any one who happened to be guilty of what he
+called criminal orderliness in putting the table to rights. He wanted the
+papers and magazines left just as they were, so that he could put his hand
+upon them without demanding too much of a servant's powers of divination.
+More than one parlour-maid had been dismissed for offensive neatness.
+
+She closed her eyes for a second. A faint line, as of pain, appeared
+between them. In this room Braden Thorpe had been coddled and scolded, in
+this room he had romped and studied—She opened her eyes quickly.
+
+"Murray," she said, in a low voice; "you are quite sure that Mr. Braden
+is—is out?"
+
+The old butler straightened up from his task, his hand going to his back
+as if to keep it from creaking. "Yes, Miss Tresslyn, quite sure." He
+hesitated for a moment. "I think he said that he intended to give himself
+the pleasure of a call—ahem! I beg pardon. Yes, he is quite out—I should
+say, I'm quite sure he is out." He was confused, a most unheard of thing
+in Murray.
+
+"But he will return—soon?" She took a step or two nearer the door,
+possessed of a sudden impulse to run,—to run swiftly away.
+
+"I think not, miss," said he. "He is not expected to be here during
+the—er—you might say, the—ahem!"
+
+"I'll have a look about the room," said Anne softly. She felt that she was
+going to like Murray. She wanted him to like her. The butler may have
+caught the queer little note in her voice, or he may have seen the hunted
+look in her eyes before she turned them away. At any rate, he poked the
+fire vigorously once more. It was his way of saying that she might depend
+upon him. Then he went out of the room, closing the door behind him.
+
+She started violently, and put her hand to her heart. She had the queer,
+uncanny feeling that she was locked in this sombre room, that she would
+never be free again.
+
+In a room upstairs, Mr. Templeton Thorpe was saying to Wade:
+
+"Is my grandson in his room?"
+
+"Yes, sir. He came in at four and has been waiting for you, as you
+directed, sir."
+
+"Tell him that I would like to see him at once in the library," said Mr.
+Thorpe.
+
+"Yes, sir," said Wade, and for the first time in years his patient smile
+assumed the proportions of a grin. He did not have to be told that Anne's
+presence in the house was not to be made known to Braden. All that he was
+expected to do was to inform the young man that his grandfather wanted to
+see him in the library,—at once.
+
+And so it came to pass that three minutes later, Braden and Anne were face
+to face with each other, and old Mr. Thorpe had redeemed his promise.
+
+Of the two, Braden was the more surprised. The girl's misgivings had
+prepared her for just such a crisis as this. Something told her the
+instant she set foot inside the house that she was to be tricked. In a
+flash she realised that Mr. Thorpe himself was responsible for the
+encounter she had dreaded. It was impossible to suspect Braden of being a
+party to the scheme. He was petrified. There could be no doubt that he had
+been tricked quite as cleverly as she.
+
+But what could have been in the old man's design? Was it a trap? Did he
+expect her to rush into Braden's arms? Was he lurking behind some near-by
+curtain to witness her surrender? Was he putting her to the test, or was
+it his grandson who was on trial?
+
+Here was the supreme crisis in the life of Anne Tresslyn: the turning
+point. Her whole being cried out against this crafty trick. One word now
+from Braden would have altered the whole course of her life. In eager
+silence she stood on the thin edge of circumstance, ready to fall as the
+wind blew strongest. She was in revolt. If this stupefied, white-faced
+young man had but called out to her: "Anne! Anne, my darling! Come!" she
+would have laughed in triumph over the outcome of the old man's test, and
+all the years of her life would have been filled with sweetness. She would
+have gone to him.
+
+But, alas, those were not the words that fell from his lips, and the fate
+of Anne Tresslyn was sealed as she stood there watching him with wide-
+spread eyes.
+
+"I prefer to see you in your own home," he said, a flush of anger
+spreading over his face; "not here in my grandfather's house."
+
+There was no mistaking his meaning. He thought she had come there to see
+him,—ay, conceivably had planned this very situation! She started. It was
+like a slap in the face. Then she breathed once more, and realised that
+she had not drawn a breath since he entered the room. Her life had been
+standing still, waiting till these few stupendous seconds were over. Now
+they were gone and she could take up life where it had left off. The
+tightness in her throat relaxed. The crisis was over, the turning point
+was behind her. He had failed her, and he would have to pay. He would have
+to pay with months, even years of waiting. For it had never occurred to
+Anne Tresslyn to doubt that he would come to her in good and proper time!
+
+She could not speak at once. Her response was not ready. She was
+collecting herself. Given the time, she would rise above the mischief that
+confounded her. To have uttered the words that hung unuttered on her lips
+would have glorified him and brought shame to her pride forever more. Five
+words trembled there awaiting deliverance and they were good and honest
+words—"Take me back, Braden darling!" They were never spoken. They were
+formed to answer a different call from him. She checked them in time.
+
+"I did not come here to see you," she said at last, standing very straight
+beside the table. He was just inside the door leading to the hall. "Whose
+trick is this,—yours or Mr. Thorpe's?"
+
+Enlightenment flashed into his eyes. "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "He said he
+would do it, and he has made good. This is his way of—" He broke off in
+the middle of the sentence. In an instant he had whirled about and the
+door was closed with a bang.
+
+She started forward, her hand pressed to her quick-beating heart, real
+fear in her eyes. What was in his mind? Was this insanity? She had read of
+men driven mad by disappointment who brutally set upon and killed—But he
+was facing her now, and she stopped short. His jaw was set but there was
+no insane light in the eyes that regarded her so steadily. Somehow—and
+suddenly—her composure was restored. She was not afraid of him. She was
+not afraid of the hands and arms that had caressed her so tenderly, nor
+was she afraid of the words that were to fall from the lips that had
+kissed hers so many times. He was merely going to plead with her, and she
+was well prepared for that.
+
+For weeks and weeks she had been preparing herself for this unhappy
+moment. She knew that the time would come when she would have to face him
+and defend herself. She would have to deny the man she loved. She would
+have to tell him that she was going for a higher price than he could pay.
+The time had come and she was ready. The weakness of the minute before had
+passed—passed with his failure to strike when, with all her heart and
+soul, she wanted him to strike.
+
+"You need not be frightened," he said, subduing his voice with an effort.
+"Let us take time to steady ourselves. We have a good deal to say to each
+other. Let's be careful not to waste words, now that we're face to face at
+last."
+
+"I am quite calm," she said, stock-still beside the table. "Why should I
+be frightened? I am the last person in the world that you would strike,
+Braden." She was that sure of him!
+
+"Strike? Good God, why should that have entered your head?"
+
+"One never knows," she said. "I was startled. I was afraid—at first. You
+implied a moment ago that I had arranged for this meeting. Surely you
+understand that I—"
+
+"My grandfather arranged it," he interrupted. "There's no use beating
+about the bush. I told him that I would not believe this thing of you
+unless I had it from your own lips. You would not see me. You were not
+permitted to see me. I told him that you were being forced into this
+horrible marriage, that your mother was afraid to let me have a single
+word with you. He laughed at me. He said that you were going into it with
+your eyes open, that you were obeying your mother willingly, that you—"
+
+"Pardon me," she interrupted coldly. "Is your grandfather secreted
+somewhere near so that he may be able to enjoy the—"
+
+"I don't know, and I don't care. Let him hear if he wants to. Why should
+either of us care? He knows all there is to know about you and he
+certainly appreciates my position. We may as well speak freely. It will
+not make the slightest difference, one way or the other, so far as he is
+concerned. He knows perfectly well that you are not marrying him for love,
+or respect, or even position. So let's speak plainly. I say that he
+arranged this meeting between us. He brought you here, and he sent
+upstairs for me to join him in this room. Well, you see he isn't here. We
+are quite alone. He is fair to both of us. He is giving me my chance and
+he is giving you yours. It only remains for us to settle the matter here
+and now. I know all of the details of this disgusting compact. I know that
+you are to have two million dollars settled upon you the day you are
+married—oh, I know the whole of it! Now, there's just one thing to be
+settled between you and me: are you going ahead with it or are you going
+to be an honest woman and marry the man you love?"
+
+He did not leave her much to stand upon. She had expected him to go about
+it in an entirely different way. She had counted upon an impassioned plea
+for himself, not this terse, cold-blooded, almost unemotional summing up
+of the situation. For an instant she was at a loss. It was hard to look
+into his honest eyes. A queer, unformed doubt began to torment her, a
+doubt that grew into a question later on: was he still in love with her?
+
+"And what if I do not care to discuss my private affairs with you?" she
+said, playing for time.
+
+"Don't fence, Anne," he said sternly. "Answer the question. Wait. I'll put
+it in another form, and I want the truth. If you say to me that your
+mother is deliberately forcing you into this marriage I'll believe you,
+and I'll—I'll fight for you till I get you. I will not stand by and see
+you sacrificed, even though you may appear to—"
+
+"Stop, please. If you mean to ask _that_ question, I'll answer it in
+advance. It is I, not my mother, who expects to marry Mr. Thorpe, and I am
+quite old enough and wise enough to know my own mind. So you need not put
+the question."
+
+He drew nearer. The table separated them as they looked squarely into each
+other's eyes through the fire-lit space that lay between.
+
+"Anne, Anne!" he cried hoarsely. "You must not, you shall not do this
+unspeakable thing! For God's sake, girl, if you have an atom of self-
+respect, the slightest—"
+
+"Don't begin that, Braden!" she cut in, ominously. "I cannot permit you or
+any man to _say_ such things to me, no matter what you may think. Bear
+that in mind."
+
+"Don't you mind what I think about it, Anne?" he cried, his voice
+breaking.
+
+"See here, Braden," she said, in an abrupt, matter-of-fact manner, "it
+isn't going to do the least bit of good to argue the point. I am pledged
+to marry Mr. Thorpe and I shall do so if I live till the twenty-third of
+next month. Provided, of course, that he lives till that day himself. I
+have gone into it with my eyes open, as he says, and I am satisfied with
+my bargain. I suppose you will hate me to the end of your days. But if you
+think that I expect to hate myself, you are very much mistaken. Look! Do
+you see these pearls? They were not included in the bargain, and I could
+have gone on very well without them to the end of my term as the mistress
+of this house, but I accepted them from my fiancé to-day in precisely the
+same spirit in which they were given: as alms to the undeserving. Your
+grandfather did not want me to marry you. He is merely paying me to keep
+my hands _off_. That's the long and the short of it. I am not in the least
+deceived. You will say that I could—and should have told him to go to the
+devil. Well, I'm sorry to have to tell you that I couldn't see my way
+clear to doing that. I hope he _is_ listening behind the curtains. We
+drove a hard bargain. He thought he could get off with a million. You must
+remember that he had deliberately disinherited you,—that much I know. His
+will is made. It will not be altered. You will be a poor man as wealth is
+reckoned in these days. But you will be a great man. You will be famous,
+distinguished, honoured. That is what he intends. He set out to sacrifice
+me in order that you might be spared. You were not to have a millstone
+about your neck in the shape of a selfish, unsacrificing wife. What rot!
+From the bottom of my heart, Braden,—if you will grant me a heart,—I hope
+and pray that you may go to the head of your profession, that you may be a
+great and good man. I do not ask you to believe me when I say that I love
+you, and always—"
+
+"For God's sake, don't ask me to believe it! Don't add to the degradation
+you are piling up for yourself. Spare yourself that miserable confession.
+It is quite unnecessary to lie to me, Anne."
+
+"Lie? I am telling you the truth, Braden. I do love you. I can't help
+that, can I? You do not for an instant suspect that I love this doddering
+old man, do you? Well, I must love some one. That's natural, isn't it?
+Then, why shouldn't it be you? Oh, laugh if you will! It doesn't hurt me
+in the least. Curse me, if you like. I've made up my mind to go on with
+this business of marrying. We've had one unsuccessful marriage in our
+family of late. Love was at the bottom of it. You know how it has turned
+out, Braden. It—"
+
+"I believe I know how it might have turned out if they had been left to
+themselves," said he bluntly.
+
+"She would have been a millstone, nevertheless," she argued.
+
+"I don't agree with you. George found his level in that little nobody, as
+you all have called her. Poor little thing, she was not so lucky as I. She
+did not have her eyes opened in time. She had no chance to escape. But
+we're not here to talk about Lutie Carnahan. I have told my grandfather
+that I intend to break this thing off if it is in my power to do so. I
+shall not give up until I know that you are actually married. It is a
+crime that must not—"
+
+"How do you purpose breaking it off?" she inquired shrilly. Visions of a
+strong figure rising in the middle of the ceremony to cry out against the
+final words flashed into her mind. Would she have that to look forward to
+and dread?
+
+"I shall go on appealing to your honour, your decency, your self-respect,
+if not to the love you say you bear for me."
+
+She breathed easier. "And will you confine your appeals to me?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I thought you might take it into your head to appeal to Mr. Thorpe's
+honour, decency, self-respect and love for you," she said, sullenly. "He
+is quite as guilty as I, remember."
+
+"He has quite a different object in view. He seems to feel that he is
+doing me a good turn, not an evil one."
+
+"Bosh!" She was angry. "And what will be your attitude toward me if you
+_do_ succeed in preventing the marriage? Will you take me back as I was
+before this thing came up? Will you make me your wife, just as if nothing
+had happened? In view of my deliberate intention to deny you, will you
+forget everything and take me back?"
+
+He put his hand to his throat, and for a moment appeared to be struggling
+against himself. "I will take you back, Anne, as if nothing had happened,
+if you will say to me here and now that you will marry me to-morrow."
+
+She stared at him, incredulous. Her heart began to beat rapidly once more
+and the anger died away. "You would do that, knowing me to be what I am?"
+
+"Knowing you to be what you _were_," he amended eagerly. "Oh, Anne, you
+are worth loving, you are pure of heart and—"
+
+"If I will marry you to-morrow?" she went on, watching his face closely.
+
+"Yes. But you must say it now—this instant. I will not grant you a
+moment's respite. If you do not say the word now, your chance is gone
+forever. It has to be now, Anne."
+
+"And if I refuse—what then?"
+
+"I would not marry you if you were the only woman on earth," he said
+flatly.
+
+She smiled. "Are you sure that you love me, Braden?"
+
+"I will love you when you become what you were,—a month ago," he said
+simply. "A girl worth the honour of being loved," he added.
+
+"Men sometimes love those who are not worth the honour," she said, feeling
+her way. "They cannot help themselves."
+
+"Will you say the word _now_?" he demanded hoarsely.
+
+She sighed. It was a sigh of relief,—perhaps of triumph. He was safe for
+all time. He would come to her in the end. She was on solid ground once
+more.
+
+"I am afraid, Braden, that I cannot play fast and loose with a man as old
+as Mr. Thorpe," she said lightly.
+
+He muttered an oath. "Don't be a fool! What do you call your treatment of
+me? Fast and loose! Good Lord, haven't you played fast and loose with me?"
+
+"Ah, but you are young and enduring," she said. "You will get over it. He
+wouldn't have the time or strength to recover from the shock of—"
+
+"Oh, for God's sake, don't talk like that! What do you call yourself?
+What—" He checked the angry words and after a moment went on, more
+quietly: "Now, see here, Anne, I'm through parleying with you. I shall go
+on trying to prevent this marriage, but succeed or fail, I don't want to
+see your face again as long as I live. I'm through with you. You _are_
+like your mother. You are a damned vampire. God, how I have loved and
+trusted you, how I have believed in you. I did not believe that the woman
+lived who could degrade herself as you are about to degrade yourself. I
+have had my eyes opened. All my life I have loved you without even knowing
+you. All my life I—"
+
+"All my life I have loved you," she broke in cringingly.
+
+He laughed aloud. "The hell you have!" he cried out. "You have allowed me
+to hold you in my arms, to kiss you, to fondle you, and you have trembled
+with joy and passion,—and now you call it love! Love! You have never loved
+in your life and you never will. You call self-gratification by the name
+of love. Thank God, I know you at last. I ought to pity you. In all
+humanity I ought to pity a fellow creature so devoid of—"
+
+"Stop!" she cried, her face flaming red. "Go! Go away! You have said
+enough. I will hate you if you utter another word, and I don't want to
+hate you, Braden. I want to go on loving you all my life. I _must_ go on
+loving you."
+
+"You have my consent," he said, ironically, bowing low before her.
+"Humanity compels me to grant you all the consolation you can find in
+deceiving yourself."
+
+"Wait!" she cried out, as he turned toward the door. "I—I am hurt, Braden.
+Can't you see how you have hurt me? Won't you—"
+
+"Of course, you are hurt!" he shouted. "You squeal when you are hurt. You
+think only of yourself when you cry 'I am hurt'! Don't you ever think of
+any one else?" His hand grasped the big silver door-knob.
+
+"I want you to understand, if you can, why I am doing this thing you
+revile me for."
+
+"I understand," he said curtly.
+
+She hurried her words, fearful that he might rush from the room before she
+could utter the belated explanation.
+
+"I don't want to be poor. I don't want to go through life as my mother has
+gone, always fighting for the things she most desired, always being behind
+the game she was forced to play. You can't understand,—you are too big and
+fine,—you cannot understand the little things, Braden. I want love and
+happiness, but I want the other, too. Don't you see that with all this
+money at my command I can be independent, I can be safe for all time, I
+can give more than myself in return for the love that I must have? Don't
+you understand why—"
+
+She was quite close to him when he interrupted the impassioned appeal. His
+hand shook as he held it up to check her approach.
+
+"It's all over, Anne. There is nothing more to be said. I understand
+everything now. May God forgive you," he said huskily.
+
+She stopped short. Her head went up and defiance shone in her face.
+
+"I'd rather have your forgiveness than God's," she said distinctly, "and
+since I may not ask for it now, I will wait for it, my friend. We love
+each other. Time mends a good many breaks. Good-bye! Some day I hope
+you'll come to see your poor old granny, and bring—"
+
+"Oh, for the love of heaven, have a little decency, Anne," he cried, his
+lip curling.
+
+But her pride was roused, it was in revolt against all of the finer
+instincts that struggled for expression.
+
+"You'd better go now. Run upstairs and tell your grandfather that his
+scheme worked perfectly. Tell him everything I have said. He will not
+mind. I am sorry you will not remain to see the contract signed. I should
+like to have you for a witness. If you—"
+
+"Contract? What contract?"
+
+"Oh," she said lightly, "just a little agreement on his part to make life
+endurable for me while he continues to live. We are to sign the paper at
+five o'clock. Yes, you'd better run along, Braden, or you'll find yourself
+the centre of a perplexed crowd. Before you go, please take a last look at
+me in my sepulchre. Here I stand! Am I not fair to look upon?"
+
+"God, I'd sooner see you in your grave than here," he grated out. "You'd
+be better off, a thousand times."
+
+"This is my grave," she said, "or will be soon. I suppose I am not to
+count you among the mourners?"
+
+He slammed the door behind him, and she was alone.
+
+"How I hate people who slam doors," she said to herself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+A fortnight passed. Preparations for the wedding went on in the Tresslyn
+home with little or no slackening of the tension that had settled upon the
+inmates with the advent of the disturber. Anne was now sullenly determined
+that nothing should intervene to prevent the marriage, unless an unkind
+Providence ordered the death of Templeton Thorpe. She was bitter toward
+Braden. Down in her soul, she knew that he was justified in the stand he
+had taken, and in that knowledge lay the secret of her revolt against one
+of the commands of Nature. He had treated her with the scorn that she knew
+she deserved; he had pronounced judgment upon her, and she confessed to
+herself that she was guilty as charged. That was the worst of it; she
+could pronounce herself guilty, and yet resent the justice of her own
+decision.
+
+In her desperation, she tried to hold old Mr. Thorpe responsible for the
+fresh canker that gnawed at her soul. But for that encounter in his
+library, she might have proceeded with confidence instead of the
+uneasiness that now attended her every step. She could not free herself of
+the fear that Braden might after all succeed in his efforts to persuade
+the old man to change his mind. True, the contract was signed, but
+contracts are not always sacred. They are made to be broken. Moreover, by
+no stretch of the imagination could this contract be looked upon as sacred
+and it certainly would not look pretty if exposed to a court of law. Her
+sole thought now was to have it all safely over with. Then perhaps she
+could smile once more.
+
+In the home of the bridegroom, preparations for the event were scant and
+of a perfunctory nature. Mr. Templeton Thorpe ordered a new suit of
+clothes for himself—or, to be quite precise, he instructed Wade to order
+it. He was in need of a new suit anyway, he said, and he had put off
+ordering it for a long, long time, not because he was parsimonious but
+because he did not like going up town for the "try-on." He also had a new
+silk hat made from his special block, and he would doubtless be compelled
+to have his hair trimmed up a bit about the nineteenth or twentieth, if
+the weather turned a trifle warmer. Of course, there would be the trip to
+City Hall with Anne, for the licence. He would have to attend to that in
+person. That was one thing that Wade couldn't do for him. Wade bought the
+wedding-ring and saw to the engraving; he attended to the buying of a gift
+for the best man,—who under one of the phases of an all-enveloping irony
+was to be George Dexter Tresslyn!—and in the same expedition to the
+jewellers' purchased for himself a watch-fob as a self-selected gift from
+a master who had never given him anything in all his years of service
+except his monthly wage and a daily malediction.
+
+Braden Thorpe made the supreme effort to save his grandfather. Believing
+himself to be completely cured of his desire for Anne, he took the stand
+that there was no longer a necessity for the old gentleman to sacrifice
+himself to the greed of the Tresslyns. But Mr. Thorpe refused to listen to
+this new and apparently unprejudiced argument. He was firm in his
+determination to clip Anne's claws; he would take no chances with youth,
+ultimate propinquity, and the wiles of a repentant sinner.
+
+"You can guard against anything," said he in his wisdom, "except the
+beautiful woman who repents. You never can tell what she'll do to make her
+repentance satisfactory to everybody concerned. So we'll take no chances
+with Anne. We'll put her in irons, my boy, so to speak."
+
+And so it was that Braden, worn and disspirited, gave up in despair and
+prepared for his return to London. He went before an examining board in
+New York first and obtained his licence to become a practising physician
+and surgeon, and, with a set expression in his disillusioned eyes, peered
+out into the future in quest of the fame that was to take the place of a
+young girl's love.
+
+He met his first patient in the Knickerbocker Café. Lunching alone there
+one day, a week before the date selected for sailing, he was accosted by
+an extremely gay and pretty young woman who came over from a table of four
+in a distant corner of the room.
+
+"Is this Dr. Braden Thorpe?" she inquired, placing her hands on the back
+of the chair opposite and leaning forward with a most agreeable, even
+inviting smile.
+
+Her face was familiar. "Since day before yesterday," he replied, rising
+with a self-conscious flush.
+
+"May I sit down? I want to talk to you about myself." She sat down in the
+chair that an alert waiter pulled out for her.
+
+"I am afraid you are labouring under a misapprehension," he said. "I—I am
+not what you would call a practising physician as yet."
+
+"Aren't you looking for patients?" she inquired. "Sit down, please."
+
+"I haven't even an office, so why should I feel that I am entitled to a
+patient?" he said. "You see, I've just got my licence to practice. As
+things go, I shouldn't have a client for at least two years. Are you
+looking for a doctor?"
+
+"I saw by the papers this morning that the grandson of Mr. Templeton
+Thorpe was a regular doctor. One of my friends over there pointed you out
+to me. What is your fee for an appendicitis operation, Dr. Thorpe?"
+
+"Good—ahem! I beg your pardon. You really startled me. I—"
+
+"Oh, that's all right. I quite understand. Hard to grasp at first, isn't
+it? Well, I've got to have my appendix out sooner or later. It's been
+bothering me for a year, off and on. Everybody tells me I ought to have it
+out sometime when it isn't bothering me and—"
+
+"But, my dear young lady, I'm not the man you want. You ought to go to
+some—"
+
+"You'll do just as well as any one, I'm sure. It's no trick to take out an
+appendix in these days. The fewer a doctor has snipped off, the less he
+charges, don't you know. So why shouldn't I, being quite poor, take
+advantage of your ignorance? The most intelligent surgeon in New York
+couldn't do any more than to snip it off, now could he? And he wouldn't be
+one-tenth as ignorant as you are about prices."
+
+She was so gay and naïve about it that he curbed his amazement, and, to
+some extent, his embarrassment.
+
+"I suppose that it is also ignorance on my part that supplies me with
+office hours in a public restaurant from one to three o'clock," he said,
+with a very unprofessional grin.
+
+"What hospital do you work in?" she demanded, in a business-like tone.
+
+Humouring her, he mentioned one of the big hospitals in which he had
+served as an interne.
+
+"That suits me," she said. "Can you do it to-morrow?"
+
+"For heaven's sake, madam, I—are you in earnest?"
+
+"Absolutely. I want to have it done right away. You see, I do a good deal
+of dancing, and—now, listen!" She leaned farther across the table, a
+serious little line appearing between her brows. "I want you to do it
+because I've always heard that you are one of the most earnest, capable
+and ambitious young men in the business. I'd sooner trust you than any one
+else, Dr. Thorpe. It has to be done by some one, so if I'm willing to take
+a chance with you, why shouldn't you take one with me?"
+
+"I have been in Europe for nearly three years. How could you possibly have
+heard all this about me?"
+
+"See that fellow over there facing us? The funny little chap with the baby
+moustache? He—"
+
+"Why, it's Simmy Dodge," cried Braden. "Are—are you—"
+
+"Just a friend, that's all. He's one of the finest chaps in New York. He's
+a gentleman. That's Mr. and Mrs. Rumsey Fenn,—the other two, I mean. You
+can't see them for the florist shop in between. They know you too, so—"
+
+"May I inquire why one of my friends did not bring you over and introduce
+me to you, Miss—er—"
+
+"Miss, in a sort of way, Doctor, but still a Missus," she said amiably.
+"Well, I told them that I knew you quite well and I wouldn't let them come
+over. It's all right, though. We'll be partially related to each other by
+marriage before long, I understand; so it's all right. You see, I am Mrs.
+George Dexter Tresslyn."
+
+"You—you are?" he gasped. "By Jove, I thought that your face was familiar.
+I—"
+
+"One of the best advertised faces in New York about two years ago," she
+said, and he detected a plaintive note in the flippant remark. "Not so
+well-known nowadays, thank God. See here, Dr. Thorpe, I hope you won't
+think it out of place for me _to_ congratulate you."
+
+"Congratulate me? My dear Mrs. Tresslyn, it is not I who am to be married.
+You confuse me with—"
+
+"I'm congratulating you because you're not the one," said she, her eyes
+narrowing. "Bless your soul, I know what I'm talking about. But say no
+more. Let's get back to the appendix. Will you do the job for me?"
+
+"Now that we are acquainted with each other," he said, suppressing a
+natural excitement, "may we not go over and join Simmy and the Fenns?
+Don't you think you'd better consult with them before irrevocably
+committing yourself to me?"
+
+"Fine! We'll talk it over together, the whole lot of us. But, I say, don't
+forget that I've known you for years—through the family, of course. I want
+to thank you first for one thing, Dr. Thorpe. George used to tell me how
+you took my part in the—the smash-up. He said you wrote to him from Europe
+to be a man and stand by me in spite of everything. That's really what
+I've been wanting to say to you, more than the other. Still, I've got to
+have it out, so come on. Let's set a day. Mrs. Fenn will go up to the
+hospital with me. She's used to hospitals. Says she loves them. She's
+trying her best to have Mr. Fenn go in next week to have his out. She's
+had five operations and a baby. I'm awfully glad to know you, Dr. Thorpe.
+I've always wanted to. I'd like better than anything I know of to be your
+first regular patient. It will always be something to boast about in years
+to come. It will be splendid to say to people, 'Oh, yes, I am the first
+person that ever had her appendix removed by the celebrated Dr. Thorpe.'
+It will—"
+
+"But I have removed a great many," he said, carried away by her sprightly
+good humour. "In my training days, so to speak."
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," she cried, disappointed. Then her face
+brightened: "Still, I suppose you had to learn just where the thing is. It
+wouldn't do to go about stabbing people in the wrong place, just as if the
+appendix might be any little old where, would it?"
+
+"I should say not," said he, arising and bowing very profoundly. Then he
+followed close behind her trim, smart figure as they threaded their way
+among the tables.
+
+So this was the "pretty little mustard girl" that all fashionable New York
+had talked about in the past and was dancing with in the present. This was
+the girl who refused to go to the dogs at the earnest behest of the
+redoubtable Mrs. Tresslyn. Somehow he felt that Fate had provided him with
+an unexpected pal!
+
+And, to his utter astonishment, he was prevailed upon to perform the
+operation! The Fenns and Simeon Dodge decided the matter for him.
+
+"I shall have to give up sailing next week," he said, as pleased as Punch
+but contriving to project a wry face. "I can't go away and leave my first
+bona-fide patient until she is entirely out of the woods."
+
+"I have engagements for to-morrow and Wednesday," said Mrs. Rumsey Fenn,
+after reflection. She was a rather pallid woman of thirty-five who might
+have been accused of being bored with life if she had not made so many
+successful efforts to prolong it.
+
+"It doesn't happen to be your appendix, my dear," said her husband.
+
+"Goodness, I wish it were," said she, regretfully. "What I mean is that I
+can't go to the hospital with Lutie before,—let me see,—before Thursday.
+Can you wait that long, dear?"
+
+"Ask Dr. Thorpe," said young Mrs. Tresslyn. "He is my doctor, you know."
+
+"Of course, you all understand that I cannot go ahead and perform an
+operation without first determining—"
+
+"Don't you worry," said the patient. "My physician has been after me for a
+year to have it out. He'll back me up. I'll telephone him as soon as I get
+back home, and I'll have him call you up, Dr. Thorpe. Thanks ever so much.
+And, before I forget it, what is the fee to be? You see, I pay my own
+bills, so I've got to know the—the worst."
+
+"My fee will be even more reasonable than you hope, Mrs. Tresslyn," said
+Braden, smiling. "Just guess at the amount you'd feel able to pay and then
+divide it by two, and you'll have it."
+
+"Dear me," cried Mrs. Fenn, "how perfectly satisfactory! Rumsey, you
+_must_ have yours out this week. You're always talking about not being
+able to afford things, and here's a chance to save money in a way you
+never would have suspected."
+
+"Good Lord, Madge," exclaimed her husband, "I've never had a pain in my
+life. I wish you wouldn't keep nagging at me all the time to have an
+operation performed, whether I need it or not. Let my appendix alone. It's
+always treated me with extreme loyalty and respect, so why the deuce
+should I turn upon the poor thing and assassinate it?"
+
+"See here, Rumsey," said Simmy Dodge sagely, "if I were in your place I'd
+have a perfectly sound tooth pulled some time, just to keep it from aching
+when you're an old man. Or you might have your left leg amputated so that
+it couldn't be crushed in a railroad accident. You ought to do something
+to please Madge, old chap. She's been a thoughtful, devoted wife to you
+for twelve or thirteen years, and what have you ever done to please her?
+Nothing! You've never so much as had a crick in your neck or a pain that
+you couldn't account for, so do be generous, Rumsey. Besides, maybe you
+haven't got an appendix at all. Just think how you could crow over her if
+they couldn't find one, even after the most careful and relentless search
+over your entire system."
+
+"She's always wanting me to die or something like that," growled Fenn;
+"but when I talked of going to the Spanish War she went into hysterics."
+
+"We'd only been married a month, Rumsey," said his wife reproachfully.
+
+"But how could I have known that war was to be declared so soon?" he
+demanded.
+
+Braden and Simeon Dodge left the restaurant together. They were old
+friends, college-mates, and of the same age. Dodge had gone into the law-
+school after his academic course, and Thorpe into the medical college.
+Their ways did not part, however. Both were looked upon as heirs to huge
+fortunes, and to both was offered the rather doubtful popularity that
+usually is granted to affluence. Thorpe accepted his share with the
+caution of the wise man, while Dodge, not a whit less capable, took his as
+a philanderer. He now had an office in a big down-town building, but he
+never went near it except when his partner took it into his head to go
+away for a month's vacation at the slack season of the year. At such
+periods Mr. Dodge, being ages younger than the junior member of the firm,
+made it his practice to go down to the office and attend to the business
+with an earnestness that surprised every one. He gave over frolicking and
+stuck resolutely to the "knitting" that Johnson had left behind. Possessed
+of a natural though thrifty intelligence,—one that wasted little in
+public,—and a latent energy that could lift him occasionally above a
+perfectly normal laziness, he made as much of his opportunities as one
+could expect of a young man who has two hundred thousand a year and an
+amiable disposition.
+
+No one in the city was more popular than Simmy Dodge, and no one more
+deservedly so, for his bad qualities were never so bad that one need
+hesitate about calling him a good fellow. His habits were easy but
+genteel. When intoxicated he never smashed things, and when sober,—which
+was his common condition,—he took extremely good care of other people's
+reputations. Women liked him, which should not be surprising; and men
+liked him because he was not to be spoiled by the women who liked him,
+which is saying a great deal for an indolent young man with money. He had
+a smile that always appeared at its best in the morning, and survived the
+day with amazing endurance. And that also is saying a great deal for a
+young man who is favoured by both sexes and a _supposedly_ neutral Dame
+Fortune at the same time. He had broken many of the laws of man and some
+of those imposed by God, but he always paid without apology. He was
+inevitably pardoned by man and paroled by his Maker,—which is as much as
+to say that he led a pretty decent sort of existence and enjoyed
+exceedingly good health.
+
+He really wasn't much to look at. Being a trifle under medium height,
+weighing less than one hundred and twenty pounds stripped, as wiry as a
+cat and as indefatigable as a Scotch terrier, and with an abnormally large
+pair of ears that stood out like oyster shells from the sides of a round,
+sleek head, he made no pretentions to physical splendour,—unless, by
+chance, you would call the perky little straw-coloured moustache that
+adorned his long upper lip a tribute to vanity. His eyes were blue and
+merry and set wide apart under a bulging, intellectual looking forehead,
+and his teeth were large and as white as snow. When he laughed the world
+laughed with him, and when he tried to appear downcast the laughter went
+on just the same, for then he was more amusing than ever.
+
+"I didn't know you were a friend of hers," said he as they stood in front
+of the hotel waiting for the taxi that was to take Thorpe to a hospital.
+
+Thorpe remembered the admonition. "I tried to put a little back-bone into
+George Tresslyn at the time of the rumpus, if that's what you'd call being
+a friend to her," he said evasively.
+
+"She's a nice little girl," said Simmy, "and she's been darned badly
+treated. Mrs. Tresslyn has never gotten over the fact that Lutie made her
+pay handsomely to get the noble Georgie back into the smart set. Plucky
+little beggar, too. Lot of people like the Fenns and the Roush girls have
+taken her up, primarily, I suppose, because the Tresslyns threw her down.
+She's making good with them, too, after a fashion all her own. Must be
+something fine in a girl like that, Brady,—I mean something worth while.
+Straight as a string, and a long way from being a disgrace to the name of
+Tresslyn. Quaint, isn't she?"
+
+"Amazingly so. I think George would marry her all over again if she'd have
+him, mother or no mother."
+
+"Well, she's quaint in another respect," said Dodge. "She still considers
+herself to be George Tresslyn's wife."
+
+"Religion?"
+
+"Not a bit of it. She just says she is, that's all, and what God joined
+together no woman can put asunder. She means Mrs. Tresslyn, of course. By
+the way, Brady, I wonder if I'm still enough of a pal to be allowed to say
+something to you." The blue eyes were serious and there was a sort of
+caressing note in his voice.
+
+"We've always been pals, Simmy."
+
+"Well, it's just this: I'm darned sorry things have turned out as they
+have for you. It's a rotten shame. Why don't you choke that old
+grandparent of yours? Put him out of his misery. Anne has told me of your
+diabolical designs upon the hopelessly afflicted. She used to talk about
+it for hours while you were in London,—and I had to listen with shivers
+running up and down my back all the time. Nobody on earth could blame you
+for putting the quietus on old Templeton Thorpe. He is about as hopelessly
+afflicted as any one I know,—begging your pardon for treading on the
+family toes."
+
+"He's quite sane, Simmy," said Braden, with a smile that was meant to be
+pleasant but fell short of the mark.
+
+"He's an infernal old traitor, then," said Simmy hotly. "I wouldn't treat
+a dog as he has treated you,—no kind of a dog, mind you. Not even a
+Pekinese, and I hate 'em worse than snakes. What the devil does Anne mean?
+Lordy, Lordy, man, she's always been in love with you. She—but, forgive
+me, old chap, I oughtn't to run on like this. I didn't mean to open a
+sore—"
+
+"It's all right, Simmy. I understand. Thanks, old boy. It was a pretty
+stiff blow, but—well, I'm still on my pins, as you see."
+
+Dodge was hanging onto the door of the taxi, impeding his friend's
+departure. "She's too fine a girl to be doing a rotten thing like this. I
+don't mind telling you I've always been in—er—that is, I've always had a
+tender spot for Anne. I suppose you know that?"
+
+"I know that, Simmy."
+
+"Hang it all, I never dreamed that she'd look at any one else but you, so
+I never even peeped a word to her about my own feelings. And here she
+goes, throwing you over like a shot, and spilling everything. Confound it,
+man, if I'd thought she could possibly want to marry anybody else but you,
+I'd have had my try. The good Lord knows I'm not much, but by thunder, I'm
+not decrepit. I—I suppose it was the money, eh?"
+
+"That's for you to say, Simmy; certainly not for me."
+
+"If it's money she's after and not an Adonis, I don't see why the deuce
+she didn't advertise. I would have answered in a minute. I can't help
+saying it, old man, but I feel sorry for Anne, 'pon my soul, I do. I don't
+think she's doing this of her own free will. See what her mother did to
+George and that little girl in there? I tell you there's something nasty
+and—"
+
+"I may as well tell you that Anne _is_ doing this thing of her own free
+will," said Braden gravely.
+
+"I don't believe it," said Dodge.
+
+"At any rate, Simmy, I'm grateful to you for standing clear while there
+was still a chance for me. So long! I must be getting up to the hospital,
+and then around to see her doctor."
+
+"So long, Brady. See you on Thursday." He meant, good soul, that he would
+be at the hospital on that day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+An hour later, Mr. Simeon Dodge appeared at the home of Anne Tresslyn. In
+place of his usual care-free manner there now rested upon him an air of
+extreme gravity. This late afternoon visit was the result of an
+inspiration. After leaving Thorpe he found himself deeply buried in
+reflection which amounted almost to abstraction. He was disturbed by the
+persistency of the thoughts that nagged at him, no matter whither his
+aimless footsteps carried him. For the life of him, he could not put from
+his mind the conviction that Anne Tresslyn was not responsible for her
+actions.
+
+He was convinced that she had been bullied, cowed, coerced, or whatever
+you like, into this atrocious marriage, and, of course, there could be no
+one to blame but her soulless mother. The girl ought to be saved. (These
+are Simmy's thoughts.) She was being sacrificed to the greed of an
+unnatural mother. Admitting, for the sake of argument, that she was no
+longer in love with Braden Thorpe, there still remained the positive
+conviction that she could not be in love with any one else, and certainly
+not with that treacherous old man in Washington Square. That, of course,
+was utterly impossible, so there was but the one alternative: she was
+being forced into a marriage that would bring the most money into the
+hands of the designing and, to him, clearly unnatural parent.
+
+He knew nothing of the ante-nuptial settlement, nor was he aware of the
+old man's quixotic design in coming between Braden and the girl he loved.
+To Simmy it was nothing short of brigandage, a sort of moral outlawry. Old
+Templeton Thorpe deserved a coat of tar and feathers, and there was no
+word for the punishment that ought to be meted out to Mrs. Tresslyn. He
+tried to think of what ought to be done to her, and, getting as far as
+boiling oil, gave up in despair, for even that was too much like
+compassion.
+
+Money! The whole beastly business was money! He thought of his own
+unestimated wealth. Nothing but money,—horrible, insensate, devastating
+money! He shuddered as he thought of what his money was likely to bring to
+him in the end: a loveless wife; avarice in place of respect; misery
+instead of joy; destruction! How was he ever to know whether a girl was
+marrying him for himself or for the right to lay hands upon the money his
+father had left to him when he died? How can any rich man know what he is
+getting into when he permits a girl to come into his home? To burglarise
+it with the sanction of State and Church, perhaps, and to escape with the
+connivance of both after she's got all she wants. That's where the poor
+man has an advantage over the unprotected rich: he is never confronted by
+a problem like this. He doesn't have to stop and wonder why the woman
+marries him. He knows it's love, or stupidity, or morality, but it is
+never duplicity.
+
+Before he got through with it, Simmy had worked himself into a state of
+desperation. Regarding himself with unprejudiced eyes he saw that he was
+not the sort of man a girl would choose for a husband unless he had
+something besides a happy, loving disposition to offer. She would marry
+him for his money, of course; certainly he would be the last to suspect
+her of marrying him for his beauty. He had never thought of it in this
+light before, and he was wet with the sweat of anguish. He could never be
+sure! He could love a woman with all his heart and soul, and still never
+be sure of her! Were all the girls he had loved in his college days—But
+here he stopped. It was too terrible to even contemplate, this unmerited
+popularity of his! If only one of them had been honest enough to make fun
+of his ears, or to snicker when he became impassioned, or to smile
+contemptuously from her superior height when he asked her to dance,—if
+only one of them had turned her back upon him, then he would have grasped
+the unwelcome truth about himself. But, now that he thought of it, not one
+of them had ever turned a deaf ear to his cajoleries, not one had failed
+to respond to his blandishments, not one had been sincere enough to frown
+upon him when he tried to be witty. And that brought him to another
+sickening standstill: was he as bright and clever and witty as people made
+him out to be? Wasn't he a dreadful bore, a blithering ass, after all? He
+felt himself turning cold to the marrow as he thought of the real value
+that people placed upon him. He even tried to recall a single thing that
+he had ever said that he could now, in sober judgment, regard as bright or
+even fairly clever. He couldn't, so then, after all, it was quite clear
+that he was tolerated because he had nothing but money.
+
+Just as he was about to retire from his club where he had gone for solace,
+an inspiration was born. It sent him forthwith to Anne Tresslyn's home,
+dogged, determined and manfully disillusioned.
+
+"Miss Tresslyn is very busy, Mr. Dodge," said Rawson, "but she says she
+will see you, sir, if you will wait a few moments."
+
+"I'll wait," said Simmy, and sat down.
+
+He had come to the remarkable conclusion that as long as some one had to
+marry him for his money it might as well be Anne. He was fond of her and
+he could at least spare her the ignominy and horror of being wedded to old
+Templeton Thorpe. With his friend Braden admittedly out of the running,
+there was no just cause why he should not at least have a try at saving
+Anne. She might jump at the chance. He was already blaming himself for not
+having recognised her peril, her dire necessity, long before this. And
+since he had reached the dismal conclusion that no one could possibly love
+him, it would be the sensible thing on his part to at least marry some one
+whom he loved, thereby securing, in a way, half of a bargain when he might
+otherwise have to put up with nothing at all. At any rate, he would be
+doing Anne a good turn by marrying her, and it was reasonably certain that
+she would not bring him any more unhappiness than any other woman who
+might accept him.
+
+As he sat there waiting for her he began to classify his financial
+holdings, putting certain railroads and industrials into class one, others
+into class two, and so on to the best of his ability to recollect what
+really comprised his fortune. It was rather a hopeless task, for to save
+his life he could not remember whether he had Lake Shore stock or West
+Shore stock, and he did not know what Standard Oil was selling at, nor any
+of the bank stocks except the Fifth Avenue, which seldom went below forty-
+five hundred. There might be a very awkward situation, too, if he couldn't
+justify his proposal with facts instead of conjectures. Suppose that she
+came out point blank and asked him what he was worth: what could he say?
+But then, of course, she wouldn't have to ask such a question. If she
+considered it possible to marry him, she would _know_ how much he was
+worth without inquiring. As a matter of fact, she probably knew to a
+dollar, and that was a great deal more than he knew.
+
+Half an hour passed before she came down. She was wearing her hat and was
+buttoning her gloves as she came hurriedly into the room. Simmy had a
+startling impression that he had seen a great many women putting on their
+gloves as they came into rooms where he was waiting. The significance of
+this extraordinary custom had never struck him with full force before. In
+the gloom of his present appraisal of himself, he now realised with
+shocking distinctness that the women he called upon were always on the
+point of going somewhere else.
+
+"Hello, Simmy," cried Anne gaily. He had never seen her looking more
+beautiful. There was real colour in her smooth cheeks and the sparkle of
+enthusiasm in her big, dark eyes.
+
+He shook hands with her. "Hello," he said.
+
+"I can spare you just twenty minutes, Simmy," she said, peering at the
+little French clock on the mantelpiece with the frankest sort of
+calculation. "Going to the dressmaker's at five, you know. It's a great
+business, this getting married, Simmy. You ought to try it."
+
+"I know I ought," said he, pulling a chair up close to hers. "That's what
+I came to see you about, Anne."
+
+She gave a little shriek of wonder. "For heaven's sake, Simmy, don't tell
+me that _you_ are going to be married. I can't believe it."
+
+He made note of the emphasis she put upon the pronoun, and secretly
+resented it.
+
+"Depends entirely on you, Anne," he said. He looked over his shoulder to
+see if any one was within the sound of his voice, which he took the
+precaution to lower to what had always been a successful tone in days when
+he was considered quite an excellent purveyor of sweet nothings in dim
+hallways, shady nooks and unpopulated stairways. "I want you to marry me
+right away," he went on, but not with that amazing confidence of yester-
+years.
+
+Anne blinked. Then she drew back and stared at him for a moment. A merry
+smile followed her brief inspection.
+
+"Simmy, you've been drinking."
+
+He scowled, and at that she laughed aloud. "'Pon my soul, not more than
+three, Anne. I rarely drink in the middle of the day. Almost never, I
+swear to you. Confound it, why should you say I've been drinking? Can't I
+be serious without being accused of drunkenness? What the devil do you
+mean, Anne, by intimating that I—"
+
+"Don't explode, Simmy," she cried. "I wasn't intimating a thing. I was
+positively asserting it. But go on, please. You interest me. Don't try to
+look injured, Simmy. You can't manage it at all."
+
+"I didn't come here to be insulted," he growled.
+
+"Did you come here to insult me?" she inquired, the smile suddenly leaving
+her eyes.
+
+"Good Lord, no!" he gasped. "Only I don't like what you said a minute ago.
+I never was more serious or more sober in my life. You've been proposed to
+a hundred times, I suppose, and I'll bet I'm the only one you've ever
+accused of drinking at the time. It's just my luck. I—"
+
+"What in the world are you trying to get at, Simmy Dodge?" she cried. "Are
+you really asking me to marry you?"
+
+"Certainly," he said, far from mollified.
+
+She leaned back in the chair and regarded him in silence for a moment. "Is
+it possible that you have not heard that I am to be married this month?"
+she asked, and there was something like pity in her manner.
+
+"Heard it? Of course, I've heard it. Everybody's heard it. That's just
+what I've come to see you about. To talk the whole thing over. To see if
+we can't do something. Now, there is a way out of it, dear girl. It may
+not be the best way in the world but it's infinitely—"
+
+"Are you crazy?" she cried, staring at him in alarm.
+
+"See here, Anne," he said gently, "I am your friend. It will not make any
+difference to you if I tell you that I love you, that I've loved you for
+years. It's true nevertheless. I'm glad that I've at last had the courage
+to tell you. Still I suppose it's immaterial. I've come up here this
+afternoon to ask you to be my wife. I don't ask you to _say_ that you love
+me. I don't want to put you in such a position as that. I know you don't
+love me, but—"
+
+"Simmy! Oh, Simmy!" she cried out, a hysterical laugh in her throat that
+died suddenly in a strange, choking way. She was looking at him now with
+wide, comprehending eyes.
+
+"I can't bear to see you married to that old man, Anne," he went on. "It
+is too awful for words. You are one of the most perfect of God's
+creations. You shall not be sacrificed on this damned altar of—I beg your
+pardon, I did not mean to begin by accusing any one of deliberately
+forcing you into—into—" He broke off and pulled fiercely at his little
+moustache.
+
+"I see now," she said presently. "You are willing to sacrifice yourself in
+order that I may be spared. Is that it?"
+
+"It isn't precisely a sacrifice. At least, it isn't quite the same sort of
+sacrifice that goes with your case as it now stands. In this instance, one
+of us at least is moved by a feeling of love;—in the other, there is no
+love at all. If you will take me, Anne, you will get a man who adores you
+for yourself. Isn't there something in that? I can give you everything
+that old man Thorpe can give, with love thrown in. I understand the
+situation. You are not marrying that old man because you love him. There's
+something back of it all that you can't tell me, and I shall not ask you
+to do so. But listen, dear; I'm decent, I'm honest, I'm young and I'm
+rich. I can give you everything that money will buy. Good Lord, I wish I
+could remember just what I've got to offer you in the way of—But, never
+mind now. If you'd like it, I'll have my secretary make out a complete
+list of—"
+
+"So you think I am marrying Mr. Thorpe for his money,—is that it, Simmy
+dear?" she asked.
+
+"I know it," said he promptly. "That is, you are marrying him because some
+one else—ahem! You can't expect me to believe that you love the old
+codger."
+
+"No, I can't expect that of any one. Thank you, Simmy. I think I
+understand. You really want to—to save me. Isn't that so?"
+
+"I do, Anne, God knows I do," he said fervently. "It's the most beastly,
+diabolical—"
+
+"You have been fair with me, Simmy," she broke in seriously, "so I'll be
+fair with you. I am marrying Mr. Thorpe for his money. I ought to be
+ashamed to confess it openly in this way, but I'm not. Every one knows
+just why I am going into this thing, and every one is putting the blame
+upon my mother. She is not wholly to blame. I am not being driven into it.
+It's in the blood of us. We are that kind. We are a bad lot, Simmy, we
+women of the breed. It goes a long way back, and we're all alike. Don't
+ask me to say anything more, dear old boy. I'm just a rotter, so let it go
+at that."
+
+"You're nothing of the sort," he exclaimed, seizing her hand. "You're
+nothing of the sort!"
+
+"Oh, yes, I am," she said wearily.
+
+"See here, Anne," he said earnestly, "why not take me? If it's a matter of
+money, and nothing else, why not take me? That's what I mean. That's just
+what I wanted to explain to you. Think it over, Anne. For heaven's sake,
+don't go on with the other thing. Chuck it all and—take me. I won't bother
+you much. You can have all the money you need—and more, if you ask for it.
+Hang it all, I'll settle a stipulated amount upon you before we take
+another step. A million, two millions,—I don't care a hang,—only don't
+spoil this bright, splendid young life of yours by—Oh, Lordy, it's
+incomprehensible!"
+
+She patted the back of his hand, gently, even tremblingly. Her eyes were
+very bright and very solemn.
+
+"It has to go on now, Simmy," she said at last.
+
+For a long time they were silent.
+
+"I hope you have got completely over your love for Braden Thorpe," he
+said. "But, of course, you have. You don't care for him any more. You
+couldn't care for him and go on with this. It wouldn't be human, you
+know."
+
+"No, it wouldn't be human," she said, her face rigid.
+
+He was staring intently at the floor. Something vague yet sure was forming
+in his brain, something that grew to comprehension before he spoke.
+
+"By Jove, Anne," he muttered, "I am beginning to understand. You wouldn't
+marry a _young_ man for his money. It has to be an old man, an incredibly
+old man. I see!"
+
+"I would not marry a young man, Simmy, for anything but love," she said
+simply. "I would not live for years with a man unless I loved him, be he
+poor or rich. Now you have it, my friend. I'm a pretty bad one, eh?"
+
+"No, siree! I'd say it speaks mighty well for you," he cried
+enthusiastically. His whimsical smile returned and the points of his
+little moustache went up once more. "Just think of waiting for a golden
+wedding anniversary with a duffer like me! By Jove, I can see the horror
+of that myself. You just couldn't do it. I get your idea perfectly, Anne.
+Would it interest you if I were to promise to be extremely reckless with
+my life? You see, I'm always taking chances with my automobiles. Had three
+or four bad smash-ups already, and one broken arm. I _could_ be a little
+more reckless and _very_ careless if you think it would help. I've never
+had typhoid or pneumonia. I could go about exposing myself to all sorts of
+things after a year or two. Flying machines, too, and long distance
+swimming. I might even try to swim the English Channel. North Pole
+expeditions, African wild game hunts,—all that sort of thing, Anne. I'll
+promise to do everything in my power to make life as short as possible, if
+you'll only—"
+
+"Oh, Simmy, you are killing," she cried, laughing through her tears. "I
+shall always adore you."
+
+"That's what they all say. Well, I've done my best, Anne. If you'll run
+away with me to-night, or to-morrow, or any time before the twenty-third,
+I'll be the happiest man in the world. You can call me up any time,—at the
+club or at my apartment. I'll be ready. Think it over. Good-bye. I wish I
+could wish you good luck in this other—but, of course, you couldn't expect
+that. We're a queer lot, all of us. I've always had a sneaking suspicion
+that if my mother had married the man she was truly in love with, I'd be a
+much better-looking chap than I am to-day."
+
+She was standing beside him at the door, nearly a head taller than he.
+
+"Or," she amended with a dainty grimace, "you might be a very beautiful
+girl, and that would be dreadful."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+The day before the wedding, little Mrs. George Dexter Tresslyn,
+satisfactorily shorn of her appendix and on the rapid road to recovery
+that is traveled only by the perfectly healthy of mankind, confided to her
+doctor that the mystery of the daily bunch of roses was solved. They
+represented the interest and attention of her ex-husband, and, while they
+were unaccompanied by a single word from him, they also signified
+devotion.
+
+"Which means that he is still making love to you?" said Thorpe, with mock
+severity.
+
+"Clandestinely," said she, with a lovely blush and a curious softening of
+her eyes. She was wondering how this big, strong friend of hers would take
+the information, and how far she could go in her confidences without
+adventuring upon forbidden territory. Would he close the gates in the wall
+that guarded his own opinions of the common foe, or would he let her
+inside long enough for a joint discussion of the condition that confronted
+both of them: the Tresslyn nakedness? "He has been inquiring about me
+twice a day by telephone, Doctor, and this morning he was down stairs. My
+night nurse knows him by sight. He was here at half-past seven. That's
+very early for George, believe me. This hospital is a long way from where
+he lives. I would say that he got up at six or half-past, wouldn't you?"
+
+"If he went to bed at all," said Thorpe, with a grim smile.
+
+"Anyhow, it proves something, doesn't it?" she persisted.
+
+"Obviously. He is still in love with you, if that's what you want me to
+say."
+
+"That's just what I wanted you to say," she cried, her eyes sparkling.
+"Poor George! He's a dear, and I don't care who hears me say it. If he'd
+had any kind of a chance at all we wouldn't be—Oh, well, what's the use
+talking about it?" She sighed deeply.
+
+Braden watched her flushed, drawn face with frowning eyes. He realised
+that she had suffered long in silence, that her heart had been wrung in
+the bitter stretches of a thousand nights despite the gay indifference of
+the thousand days that lay between them. For nearly three years she had
+kept alive the hungry thing that gnawed at her heart and would not be
+denied. He was sorry for her. She was better than most of the women he
+knew in one respect if in no other: she was steadfast. She had made a
+bargain and it was not her fault that it was not binding. He had but
+little pity for George Tresslyn. The little he had was due to the belief
+that if the boy had been older he would have fought a better fight for the
+girl. As she lay there now, propped up against the pillows, he could not
+help contrasting her with the splendid, high-bred daughter of Constance
+Tresslyn. That she was a high-minded, honest, God-fearing girl he could
+not for an instant doubt, but that she lacked the—there is but one word
+for it—_class_ of the Tresslyn women he could not but feel as well as see.
+There was a distinct line between them, a line that it would take
+generations to cross. Still, she was a loyal, warm-hearted enduring
+creature, and by qualities such as these she mounted to a much higher
+plane than Anne Tresslyn could ever hope to attain, despite her position
+on the opposite side of the line. He had never seen George's wife in
+anything but a blithe, confident mood; she was an unbeaten little warrior
+who kept her colours flying in the face of a despot called Fate. In fact,
+she was worthy of a better man than young Tresslyn, worthy of the steel of
+a nobler foe than his mother.
+
+He was eager to comfort her. "It is pretty fine of George, sending you
+these flowers every day. I am getting a new light on him. Has he ever
+suggested to you in any way the possibility of—of—well, you know what I
+mean?"
+
+"Fixing it up again between us?" she supplied, an eager light in her eyes.
+"No, never, Dr. Thorpe. He has never spoken to me, never written a line to
+me. That's fine of him too. He loves me, I'm sure of it, and he wants me,
+but it _is_ fine of him not to bother me, now isn't it? He knows he could
+drag me back into the muddle, he knows he could make a fool of me, and yet
+he will not take that advantage of me."
+
+"Would you go back to him if he asked you to do so?"
+
+"I suppose so," she sighed. Then brightly: "So, you see, I shall refuse to
+see him if he ever comes to plead. That's the only way. We must go our
+separate ways, as decreed. I am his wife but I must not so far forget
+myself as to think that he is my husband. I know, Dr. Thorpe, that if we
+had been left alone, we could have managed somehow. He was young, but so
+was I. I am not quite impossible, am I? Don't these friends of yours like
+me, don't they find something worth while in me? If I were as common, as
+undesirable as Mrs. Tresslyn would have me to be, why do people of your
+kind like me,—take me up, as the saying is? I know that I don't really
+belong, I know I'm not just what they are, but I'm not so awfully
+hopeless, now am I? Isn't Mrs. Fenn a nice woman? Doesn't she go about in
+the smart set?"
+
+She appeared to be pleading with him. He smiled.
+
+"Mrs. Fenn is a very nice woman and a very smart one," he said. "You have
+many exceedingly nice women among your friends. So be of good cheer, if
+that signifies anything to you." He was chaffing her in his most amiable
+way.
+
+"It signifies a lot," she said seriously. "By rights, I suppose, I should
+have gone to the devil. That's what was expected of me, you know. When I
+took all that money from Mrs. Tresslyn, it wasn't for the purpose of
+beating my way to the devil as fast as I could. I took it for an entirely
+different reason: to put myself where I could tell other people to go to
+him if I felt so inclined. I took it so that I could make of myself, if
+possible, the sort of woman that George Tresslyn might have married
+without stirring up a row in the family. I've taken good care of all that
+money. It is well invested. I manage to live and dress on the income.
+Rather decent of me, isn't it? Surprisingly decent, you might say, eh?"
+
+"Surprisingly," he agreed, smiling.
+
+"What George Tresslyn needs, Dr. Thorpe, is something to work for,
+something to make work an object to him. What has he got to work for now?
+Nothing, absolutely nothing. He's merely keeping up appearances, and he'll
+never get anywhere in God's world until he finds out that it's a waste of
+time working for a living that's already provided for him."
+
+Thorpe was impressed by this quaint philosophy. "Would you, in your
+wisdom, mind telling me just what you think George would be capable of
+doing in order to earn a living for two people instead of one?"
+
+She looked at him in surprise. "Why, isn't he big and strong and hasn't he
+a brain and a pair of hands? What more can a man require in this little
+old age? A big, strapping fellow doesn't have to sit down and say 'What in
+heaven's name am I to do with these things that God has given me?' Doesn't
+a blacksmith earn enough for ten sometimes, and how about the carpenter,
+the joiner and the man who brings the ice? Didn't I earn a living up to
+the time I burnt my fingers and had to be pensioned for dishonourable
+service? It didn't take much strength or intelligence to demonstrate
+mustard, did it? And you sit there and ask me what George is capable of
+doing! Why, he could do _anything_ if he had to."
+
+"You are really a very wonderful person," said he, with conviction. "I
+believe you could have made a man of George if you'd had the chance."
+
+She looked down. "I suppose the world thinks I made him what he is now, so
+what's the use speculating? Let's talk about you for awhile. Miss McKane
+won't be back for a few minutes, so let's chat some more. Didn't I hear
+you tell her yesterday that you expect to leave for London about the
+first?"
+
+"If you are up and about," said he.
+
+She hesitated, a slight frown on her brow. "Do you know that you are pale
+and tired-looking, Dr. Thorpe? Have you looked in the glass at yourself
+lately?"
+
+"Regularly," he said, forcing a smile. "I shave once a day, and I—"
+
+"I'm serious. You don't look happy. You may confide in me, Doctor. I think
+you ought to talk to some one about it. Are you still in love with Miss
+Tresslyn? Is that what's taking the colour out—"
+
+"I am not in love with Miss Tresslyn," he said, meeting her gaze steadily.
+"That is all over. I will confess that I have been dreadfully hurt,
+terribly shocked. A man doesn't get over such things easily or quickly. I
+will not pretend that I am happy. So, if that explains my appearance to
+you, Mrs. Tresslyn, we'll say no more about it."
+
+Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, I'm sorry if I've—if I've meddled,—if
+I've been too—"
+
+"Don't worry," he broke in quickly. "I don't in the least mind. In fact,
+I'm glad you gave me the opportunity to say in so many words that I do not
+love her. I've never said it before. I'm glad that I have said it. It
+helps, after all."
+
+"You'll be happy yet," she sniffled. "I know you will. The world is full
+of good, noble women, and there's one somewhere who will make you glad
+that this thing has happened to you. Now, we'll change the subject. Miss
+McKane may pop in at any moment, you know. Have you any new patients?"
+
+He smiled again. "No. You are my sole and only, Mrs. Fenn can't persuade
+Rumsey to have a thing done to him, and Simmy Dodge refuses to break his
+neck for scientific purposes, so I've given up hope. I shall take no more
+cases. In a year I may come back from London and then I'll go snooping
+about for nice little persons like you who—"
+
+"Simmy Dodge says you are not living at your grandfather's house any
+longer," she broke, irrelevantly.
+
+"I am at a hotel," he said, and no more.
+
+"I see," she said, frowning very darkly for her.
+
+He studied her face for a moment, and then arose from the chair beside her
+bed. "You may be interested to hear that while I am invited to attend the
+wedding to-morrow afternoon I shall not be there," he said, divining her
+thoughts.
+
+"I didn't like to ask," she said. The nurse came into the room. "He says
+I'm doing as well as could be expected, Miss McKane," she said glibly,
+"and if nothing unforeseen happens I'll be dodging automobiles in Fifth
+Avenue inside of two weeks. Good-bye, Doctor."
+
+"Good-bye. I'll look in to-morrow—afternoon," he said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The marriage of Anne Tresslyn and Templeton Thorpe took place at the home
+of the bridegroom at four o'clock on the afternoon of the twenty-third. A
+departure from the original plans was made imperative at the eleventh hour
+by the fact that Mr. Thorpe had been quite ill during the night. His
+condition was in no sense alarming, but the doctors announced that a
+postponement of the wedding was unavoidable unless the ceremony could be
+held in the Thorpe home instead of at Mrs. Tresslyn's as originally
+planned. Moreover, the already heavily curtailed list of guests would have
+to be narrowed to even smaller proportions. The presence of so many as the
+score of selected guests might prove to be hazardous in view of the old
+gentleman's state of nerves, not to say health. Mr. Thorpe was able to be
+up and about with the aid of the imperturbable Wade, but he was
+exceedingly irascible and hard to manage. He was annoyed with Braden. When
+the strange illness came early in the night, he sent out for his grandson.
+He wanted him to be there if anything serious was to result from the
+stroke,—he persisted in calling it a stroke, scornfully describing his
+attack as a "rush of blood to the head from a heart that had been squeezed
+too severely by old Father Time." Braden was not to be found. What annoyed
+Mr. Thorpe most was the young man's unaccountable disposition to desert
+him in his hour of need. In his querulous tirade, he described his
+grandson over and over again as an ingrate, a traitor, a good-for-nothing
+without the slightest notion of what an obligation means.
+
+He did not know, and was not to know for many days, that his grandson had
+purposely left town with the determination not to return until the ill-
+mated couple were well on their way to the Southland, where the ludicrous
+honeymoon was to be spent. And so it was that the old family doctor had to
+be called in to take charge of Mr. Thorpe in place of the youngster on
+whom he had spent so much money and of whom he expected such great and
+glorious things.
+
+He would not listen to a word concerning a postponement. Miss Tresslyn was
+called up on the telephone by Wade at eight o'clock in the morning, and
+notified of the distressing situation. What was to be done? At first no
+one seemed to know what _could_ be done, and there was a tremendous flurry
+that for the time being threatened to deprive Mr. Thorpe of a mother-in-
+law before the time set for her to actually become one. Doctors were
+summoned to revive the prostrated Mrs. Tresslyn. She went all to pieces,
+according to reports from the servants' hall. In an hour's time, however,
+she was herself once more, and then it was discovered that a postponement
+was the last thing in the world to be considered in a crisis of such
+magnitude. Hasty notes were despatched hither and thither; caterers and
+guests alike were shunted off with scant ceremony; chauffeurs were
+commandeered and motors confiscated; everybody was rushing about in
+systematic confusion, and no one paused to question the commands of the
+distracted lady who rose sublimely to the situation. So promptly and
+effectually was order substituted for chaos that when the clock in Mr.
+Thorpe's drawing-room struck the hour of four, exactly ten people were
+there and two of them were facing a minister of the gospel,—one in an arm
+chair with pillows surrounding him, the other standing tall and slim and
+as white as the driven snow beside him....
+
+Late that night, Mr. George Tresslyn came upon Simmy Dodge in the buffet
+at the Plaza.
+
+"Well, you missed it," he said thickly. His high hat was set far back on
+his head and his face was flushed.
+
+"Come over here in the corner," said Simmy, with discernment, "and for
+heaven's sake don't talk above a whisper."
+
+"Whisper?" said George, annoyed. "What do I want to whisper for? I don't
+want to whisper, Simmy. I never whisper. I hate to hear people whisper. I
+refuse to whisper to anybody."
+
+Simmy took him by the arm and led him to a table in a corner remote from
+others that were occupied.
+
+"Maybe you'd rather go for a drive in the Park," he said engagingly.
+
+"Nonsense! I've been driven all day, Simmy. I don't want to be driven any
+more. I'm tired, that's what's the matter with me. Dog-tired, understand?
+Have a drink? Here, boy!"
+
+"Thanks, George, I don't care for a drink. No, not for me, thank you.
+Strictly on the wagon, you know. Better let it alone yourself. Take my
+advice, George. You're not a drinking man and you can't stand it."
+
+George glowered at him for a moment, and then let his eyes fall. "Guess
+you're right, Simmy. I've had enough. Never mind, waiter. First time I've
+been like this in a mighty long time, Simmy. But don't think I'm
+celebrating, because I ain't. I'm drowning something, that's all." He was
+almost in tears by this time. "I can't help thinking about her standin'
+there beside that old—Oh, Lord! I can't talk about it."
+
+"That's right," said Simmy, persuasively. "I wouldn't if I were you. Come
+along with me. I'll walk home with you, George. A good night's rest will
+put—"
+
+"Rest? My God, Simmy, I'm never going to rest again, not even in my grave.
+Say, do you know who I blame for all this business? Do you?"
+
+"Sh!"
+
+"I won't shoosh! I blame myself. I am to blame and no one else. If I'd
+been any kind of a man I'd have put my foot down—just like that—and
+stopped the thing. That's what I'd have done if I'd been a man, Simmy. And
+instead of stoppin' it, do you know what I did? I went down there and
+stood up with old Thorpe as his best man. Can you beat that? His best man!
+My God! Wait a minute. See, he was sittin' just like you are—lean back a
+little and drop your chin—and I was standing right here, see—on this side
+of him. Just like this. And over here was Anne—oh, Lord! And here was
+Katherine Browne,—best maid, you know,—I mean maid of honour. Standin'
+just like this, d'you see? And then right in front here was the preacher.
+Say, where do all these preachers come from? I've never seen that feller
+in all my life, and still they say he's an old friend of the family. Fine
+business for a preacher to be in, wasn't it? Fi-ine bus-i-ness! He ought
+to have been ashamed of himself. By Gosh, come to think of it, I believe
+he was worse than I. He might have got out of it if he'd tried. He looked
+like a regular man, and I'm nothing but a fish-worm."
+
+"Not so loud, George, for heaven's sake. You don't want all these men in
+here to—"
+
+"Right you are, Simmy, right you are. I'm one of the fellers that talks
+louder than anybody else and thinks he's as big as George Washington
+because he's got a bass voice." He lowered his voice to a hoarse, raucous
+whisper and went on. "And mother stood over there, see,—right about where
+that cuspidor is,—and looked at the preacher all the time. Watchin' to see
+that he kept his face straight, I suppose. Couple of old rummies standin'
+back there where that table is, all dressed up in Prince Alberts and
+shaved within an inch of their lives. Lawyers, I heard afterwards. Old
+Mrs. Browne and Doc. Bates stood just behind me. Now you have it, just as
+it was. Curtains all down and electric lights going full blast. It
+wouldn't have been so bad if the lights had been out. Couldn't have seen
+old Tempy, for one thing, and Anne's face for another. I'll never forget
+Anne's face." His own face was now as white as chalk and convulsed with
+genuine emotion.
+
+Simmy was troubled. There was that about George Tresslyn that suggested a
+subsequent catastrophe. He was in no mood to be left to himself. There was
+the despairing look of the man who kills in his eyes, but who kills only
+himself.
+
+"See here, George, let's drop it now. Don't go on like this. Come along,
+do. Come to my rooms and I'll make you comfortable for the—"
+
+But George was not through with his account of the wedding. He
+straightened up and, gritting his teeth, went on with the story. "Then
+there were the responses, Simmy,—the same that we had, Lutie and I,—just
+the same, only they sounded queer and awful and strange to-day. Only young
+people ought to get married, Simmy. It doesn't seem so rotten when young
+people lie like that to each other. Before I really knew what had happened
+the preacher had pronounced them husband and wife, and there I stood like
+a block of marble and held my peace when he asked if any one knew of a
+just cause why they shouldn't be joined in holy wedlock. I never even
+opened my lips. Then everybody rushed up and congratulated Anne! And
+kissed her, and made all sorts of horrible noises over her. And then what
+do you think happened? Old Tempy up and practically ordered everybody out
+of the house. Said he was tired and wanted to be left alone. 'Good-bye,'
+he said, just like that, right in our faces—right in mother's face, and
+the preacher's, and old Mrs. Browne's. You could have heard a pin drop.
+'Good-bye,' that's what he said, and then, will you believe it, he turned
+to one of the pie-faced lawyers and said to him: 'Will you turn over that
+package to my wife, Mr. Hollenback?' and then he says to that man of his:
+'Wade, be good enough to hand Mr. Tresslyn the little acknowledgment for
+his services?' Then and there, that lawyer gave Anne a thick envelope and
+Wade gave me a little box,—a little bit of a box that I wish I'd kept to
+bury the old skinflint in. It would be just about his size. I had it in my
+vest pocket for awhile. 'Wade, your arm,' says he, and then with what he
+probably intended to be a sweet smile for Anne, he got to his feet and
+went out of the room, holding his side and bending over just as if he was
+having a devil of time to keep from laughing out loud. I heard the doctor
+say something about a pain there, but I didn't pay much attention. What do
+you think of that? Got right up and left his guests, his bride and
+everybody standing there like a lot of goops. His bride, mind you. I'm
+dead sure that so-called stroke of his was all a bluff. He just put one
+over on us, that's all. Wasn't any more sick than I am. Didn't you hear
+about the stroke? Stroke of luck, I'd call it. And say, what do you think
+he gave me as a little acknowledgment for my services? Look! Feast your
+eyes upon it!" He turned back the lapel of his coat and fumbled for a
+moment before extracting from the cloth a very ordinary looking scarf-pin,
+a small aqua-marine surrounded by a narrow rim of pearls. "Great, isn't
+it? Magnificent tribute! You could get a dozen of 'em for fifty dollars.
+That's what I got for being best man at my sister's funeral, and, by God,
+it's more than I deserved at that. He had me sized up properly, I'll say
+that for him."
+
+He bowed his head dejectedly, his lips working in a sort of spasmodic
+silence. Dodge eyed him with a curious, new-born commiseration. The boy's
+self-abasement, his misery, his flouting of his own weakness were not
+altogether the result of maudlin reaction. He presented a combination of
+manliness and effectiveness that perplexed and irritated Simeon Dodge. He
+did not want to feel sorry for him and yet he could not help doing so.
+George's broad shoulders and splendid chest were heaving under the strain
+of a genuine, real emotion. Drink was not responsible for his present
+estimate of himself; it had merely opened the gates to expression.
+
+Simmy's scrutiny took in the fine, powerful body of this incompetent
+giant,—for he was a giant to Simmy,—and out of his appraisal grew a fresh
+complaint against the Force that fashions men with such cruel
+inconsistency. What would not he perform if he were fashioned like this
+splendid being? Why had God given to George Tresslyn all this strength and
+beauty, to waste and abuse, when He might have divided His gifts with a
+kindlier hand? To what heights of attainment in all the enterprises of man
+would not he have mounted if Nature had but given to him the shell that
+George Tresslyn occupied? And why should Nature have put an incompetent,
+useless dweller into such a splendid house when he would have got on just
+as well or better perhaps in an insignificant body like his own?
+Proportions were wrong, outrageously wrong, grieved Simmy as he studied
+the man who despised the strength God had given him. And down in his
+honest, despairing soul, Simmy Dodge was saying to himself that he would
+cheerfully give all of his wealth, all of his intelligence, all of his
+prospects, in exchange for a physical body like George Tresslyn's. He
+would court poverty for the privilege of enjoying other triumphs along the
+road to happiness.
+
+"Why don't you say something?" demanded George, suddenly looking up. "Call
+me whatever you please, Simmy; I'll not resent it. Hang it all, I'll let
+you kick me if you want to. Wouldn't you like to, Simmy?"
+
+"Lord love you, no, my boy," cried the other, reaching out and laying a
+hand on George's shoulder. "See here, George, there's a great deal more to
+you than you suspect. You've got everything that a man ought to have
+except one thing, and you can get that if you make up your mind to go
+after it."
+
+"What's that?" said George, vaguely interested.
+
+"Independence," said Simmy. "Do you know what I'd do if I had that body
+and brain of yours?"
+
+"Yes," said George promptly. "You'd go out and lick the world, Simmy,
+because you're that kind of a feller. You've got character, you have.
+You've got self-respect, and ideals, and nerve. I ought to have been put
+into your body and you into mine."
+
+Simmy winced. "Strike out for yourself, George. Be somebody. Buck up,
+and—"
+
+George sagged back into the chair as he gloomily interrupted the speaker.
+"That's all very fine, Simmy, that sort of talk, but I'm not in the mood
+to listen to it now. I wasn't through telling you about the wedding. Where
+was I when I stopped? Oh, yes, the scarf-pin. Hey, waiter! Come here a
+second."
+
+A waiter approached. With great solemnity George arose and grasped him by
+the shoulder, and a moment later had removed the nickel-plated badge from
+the man's lapel. The waiter was tolerant. He grinned. It was what he was
+expected to do under the circumstances. But he was astonished by the next
+act of the tall young man in evening clothes. George proceeded to jam the
+scarf-pin into the fellow's coat where the badge of service had rested the
+instant before. Then, with Simmy looking on in disgust, he pinned the
+waiter's badge upon his own coat. "There!" he said, with a sneer. "That is
+supposed to make a gentleman of you, and this makes a man of me. On your
+way, gentleman! I—"
+
+"For heaven's sake, George," cried Simmy, arising. "Don't be an ass." He
+took the tag from Tresslyn's coat and handed it back to the waiter. "Give
+him the scarf-pin if you like, old man, but don't rob him of his badge of
+honour. He earns an honest living with that thing, you know."
+
+George sat down. He was suddenly abashed. "What an awful bounder you must
+think I am, Simmy."
+
+"Nonsense. You're a bit tight, that's all." He slipped the waiter a bank-
+note and motioned him away. "Now, let's go home, George."
+
+"Yes, sir; he turned and walked out of the room, leaving all of us
+standing there," muttered George, with a mental leap backward. "I'll never
+forget it, long as I live. He simply scorned the whole lot of us. I went
+away as quickly as I could, but the others beat me to it. I left mother
+and Anne there all alone, just wandering around the room as if they were
+half-stunned. Never, never will I forget Anne's white, scared face, and
+I've never seen mother so helpless, either. Anne gripped, that big
+envelope so tight that it crumpled up into almost nothing. Mother took it
+away from her and opened it. Nobody was there but us three. I shan't tell
+you what was in the envelope. I'm not drunk enough for that."
+
+"Never mind. It's immaterial, in any event." Simmy had called for his
+check.
+
+George's mind took a new twist. Suddenly he sprang to his feet. "By the
+way, before I forget it, do you know where I can find Braden Thorpe?"
+
+A black scowl disfigured his face. There was an ugly, ominous glare in his
+fast clearing eyes. Simmy, coming no higher than his shoulder, linked his
+arm through one of George's and started toward the door with him. He was
+headed for the porters' entrance.
+
+"He's out of town, George. Don't bother about Braden."
+
+"I'm going to kill Brady Thorpe, Simmy," said George hoarsely. Simmy felt
+the big right arm swell and become as rigid as steel.
+
+"Don't talk like a fool," he whispered.
+
+"He didn't act right by Anne," said George. "He's got to account to me.
+He's—"
+
+They were in the narrow hallway by this time. Simmy called to a porter.
+
+"Get me a taxi, will you?"
+
+"I say he didn't act right by Anne. It's his fault that she—Let go my arm,
+Simmy!" He gave it a mighty wrench.
+
+"All right," said Simmy, maintaining his equilibrium with some difficulty
+after the jerk he had received. "Don't you want me to be your friend,
+George?"
+
+George glared at him, and then broke into a shamed, foolish laugh.
+"Forgive me, Simmy. Of course, I want you as my friend. I depend upon
+you."
+
+"Then stop this talk about going after Braden. In heaven's name, you kid,
+what has he done to you or Anne? He's the one who deserves sympathy and—"
+
+"I've got it in for him because he's a coward and a skunk," explained
+George, lowering his voice with praiseworthy consideration. "You see, it's
+just this way, Simmy. He didn't do the right thing by Anne. He ought to
+have come back here and _made_ her marry him. That's where he's to blame.
+He ought to have gone right up to the house and grabbed her by the throat
+and choked her till she gave in and went with him to a justice-of-the-
+peace or something. He owed it to her, Simmy,—he was in duty bound to save
+her. If he hadn't been a sneakin' coward, he'd have choked her till she
+was half-dead and then she would have gone with him gladly. Women like a
+brave man. They like to be choked and beaten and—"
+
+Simmy laughed. "Do you call it bravery to choke a woman into submission,
+and drag her off to—"
+
+"I call it cowardice to give up the woman you love if she loves you," said
+George. "I know what I'm talking about, too, because I'm one of the
+sneakingest cowards on earth. What do you think of me, Simmy? What does
+everybody think of me? Wouldn't call me a brave man, would you?"
+
+"The cases are not parallel. Braden's case is different. He couldn't force
+Anne to—"
+
+"See here, Simmy," broke in George, wonderingly, "I hadn't noticed it
+before, but, by giminy, I believe you're tipsy. You've been drinking,
+Simmy. No sober man would talk as you do. When you sober up, you'll think
+just as I do,—and that is that Brady Thorpe ought to have been a man when
+he had the chance. He ought to have stuck his fist under Anne's nose and
+said 'Come on, or I'll smash you,' and she'd have gone with him like a
+little lamb, and she'd have loved him a hundred times more than she ever
+loved him before. He didn't do the right thing by her, Simmy. He didn't,
+curse him, and I'll never forgive him. I'm going to wring his neck, so
+help me Moses. I've been a coward just as long as I intend to be. Take a
+good look at me, Simmy. If you watch closely you may see me turning into a
+man."
+
+"Get in," said Simmy, pushing him toward the door of the taxi-cab. "A
+little sleep is what you need."
+
+"And say, there's another thing I've got to square up with Brady Thorpe,"
+protested George, holding back. "He took Lutie up there to that beastly
+hospital and slashed her open, curse him. A poor, helpless little girl
+like that! Call that brave? Sticking a knife into Lutie? He's got to
+settle with me for that, too."
+
+And then Simmy understood.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+Much may happen in a year's time. The history of the few people involved
+in the making of this narrative presents but few new aspects, and yet
+there is now to be disclosed an unerring indication of great and perhaps
+enduring changes in the lives of every one concerned.
+
+To begin with, Templeton Thorpe, at the age of seventy-eight, is lying at
+the edge of his grave. On the day of his marriage with Anne Tresslyn, he
+put down his arms in the long and hopeless conflict with an enemy that
+knows no pity, a foe so supremely confident that man has been powerless to
+do more than devise a means to temporarily check its relentless fury. The
+thing in Mr. Thorpe's side was demanding the tolls of victory. There was
+no curbing its wrath: neither the soft nor the harsh answer of science had
+served to turn it away. The hand with the gleaming, keen-edged knife had
+been offered against it again and again, but the stroke had never fallen,
+for always there stood between it and the surgeon who would slay the
+ravager, the resolute fear of Templeton Thorpe. Time there was when the
+keen-edged knife might have vanquished or at least deprived it of its
+early venom, but the body of a physical coward housed it and denied
+admittance to all-comers. Templeton Thorpe did not fear death. He wanted
+to die, he implored his Maker to become his Destroyer. The torture of a
+slow, inevitable death, however, was as nothing to the horror of the knife
+that is sharp and cold.
+
+When he went upstairs with Wade on that memorable twenty-third of March,
+he said to his enemy: "Be quick, that's all I ask of you," and then
+prepared to wait as patiently as he could for the friendly end.
+
+From that day on, he was to the eyes of the world what he had long been to
+himself in secret: a sick man without hope. Weeks passed before his bride
+recognised the revolting truth, and when she came to know that he was
+doomed her pity was _so_ vast that she sickened under its weight. She had
+come prepared to see him die, as all men do when they have lived out their
+time, but she had not counted on seeing him die like this, with suffering
+in his bleak old eyes and a smile of derision on his pallid lips.
+
+Old Templeton Thorpe's sufferings were for himself, and he guarded them
+jealously with all the fortitude he could command. His irascibility
+increased with his determination to fight it out alone. He disdained every
+move on her part to extend sympathy and help to him. To her credit, be it
+said, she would have become his nurse and consoler if he had let down the
+bars,—not willingly, of course, but because there was in Anne Thorpe,
+after all, the heart of a woman, and of such it must be said there is
+rarely an instance where its warmth has failed to respond to the call of
+human suffering. She would have tried to help him, she would have tried to
+do her part. But he was grim, he was resolute. She could not bridge the
+gulf that lay between them. His profound tolerance did not deceive her; it
+was scorn of the most poignant character.
+
+Braden was in Europe. He was expected in New York by the middle of March.
+His grandfather would not consent to his being sent for, although it was
+plain to be seen that he lived only for the young man's return.
+
+Anne had once suggested, timorously, that Braden's place was at the
+sufferer's bedside, but the smile that the old man bestowed upon her was
+so significant, so full of understanding, that she shrank within herself
+and said no more. She knew, however, that he longed for the sustaining
+hand of his only blood relation, that he looked upon himself as utterly
+alone in these last few weeks of life; and yet he would not send out the
+appeal that lay uppermost in his thoughts. In his own good time Braden
+would come back and there would be perhaps' one long, farewell grip of the
+hand.
+
+After that, ironic peace.
+
+He could not be cured himself, but he wanted to be sure that Braden was
+cured before he passed away. He knew that his grandson would not come home
+until the last vestige of love and respect for Anne Tresslyn was gone; not
+until he was sure that his wound had healed beyond all danger of bleeding
+again. Mr. Thorpe was satisfied that he had served his grandson well. He
+was confident that the young man would thank him on his death-bed for
+turning the hand of fate in the right direction, so that it pointed to
+contentment and safety. Therefore, he felt himself justified in forbidding
+any one to acquaint Braden of the desperate condition into which he had
+fallen. He insisted that no word be sent to him, and, as in all things,
+the singular power of old Templeton Thorpe prevailed over the forces that
+were opposed. Letters came to him infrequently from the young
+man,—considerate, formal letters in which he never failed to find the
+touch of repressed gratitude that inspired the distant writer. Soon he
+would be coming home to "set up for himself." Soon he would be fighting
+the battle of life on the field that no man knew and yet was traversed by
+all.
+
+Dr. Bates and the eminent surgeons who came to see the important invalid,
+discussed among themselves, but never in the presence of Mr. Thorpe, the
+remarkable and revolutionary articles that had been appearing of late in
+one of the medical journals over the signature of Braden Thorpe. There
+were two articles, one in answer to a savage, denunciatory communication
+that had been drawn out by the initial contribution from the pen of young
+Thorpe.
+
+In his first article, Braden had deliberately taken a stand in favour of
+the merciful destruction of human life in cases where suffering is
+unendurable and the last chance for recovery or even relief is lost. He
+had the courage, the foolhardiness to sign his name to the article,
+thereby irrevocably committing himself to the propaganda. A storm of
+sarcasm ensued. The great surgeons of the land ignored the article,
+amiably attributing it to a "young fool who would come to his senses one
+day." Young and striving men in the profession rushed into print,—or at
+least tried to do so,—with the result that Braden was excoriated by a
+thousand pens. Only one of these efforts was worthy of notice, and it
+inspired a calm, dispassionate rejoinder from young Thorpe, who merely
+called attention to the fact that he was not trying to "make murderers out
+of God's commissioners," but was on the other hand advocating a plan by
+which they might one day,—a far-off day, no doubt,—extend by Man's law,
+the same mercy to the human being that is given to the injured beast.
+
+Anne was shocked one day by a callous observation on the lips of old Dr.
+Bates, a sound practitioner and ordinarily as gentle as the average family
+doctor one hears so much about. Mr. Thorpe was in greater pain than usual
+that day. Opiates were of little use in these cruel hours. It was now
+impossible to give him an amount sufficient to produce relief without
+endangering the life that hung by so thin a thread.
+
+"I suppose this excellent grandson of his would say that Mr. Thorpe ought
+to be killed forthwith, and put out of his misery," said the doctor,
+discussing his patient's condition with the young wife in the library
+after a long visit upstairs.
+
+Anne started violently. "What do you mean by that, Dr. Bates?" she
+inquired, after a moment in which she managed to subdue her agitation.
+
+"Perhaps I shouldn't have said it," apologised the old physician, really
+distressed. "I did it quite thoughtlessly, my dear Mrs. Thorpe. I forgot
+that you do not read the medical journals."
+
+"Oh, I know what Braden has always preached," she said hurriedly. "But it
+never—it never occurred to me that—" She did not complete the sentence. A
+ghastly pallor had settled over her face.
+
+"That his theory might find application to the case upstairs?" supplied
+the doctor. "Of course it would be unthinkable. Very stupid of me to have
+spoken of it."
+
+Anne leaned forward in her chair. "Then you regard Mr. Thorpe's case as
+one that might be included in Braden's—" Again she failed to complete a
+sentence.
+
+"Yes, Mrs. Thorpe," said Dr. Bates gravely. "If young Braden's pet theory
+were in practice now, your husband would be entitled to the mercy he
+prescribes."
+
+"He has no chance?"
+
+"Absolutely no chance."
+
+"All there is left for him is to just go on suffering until—until life
+wears out?"
+
+"We are doing everything in our power to alleviate the
+suffering,—everything that is known to science," he vouchsafed. "We can do
+no more."
+
+"How long will he live, Dr. Bates?" she asked, and instantly shrank from
+the fear that he would misinterpret her interest.
+
+"No man can answer that question, Mrs. Thorpe. He may live a week, he may
+live six months. I give him no more than two."
+
+"And if he were to consent to the operation that you once advised, what
+then?"
+
+"That was a year ago. I would not advise an operation now. It is too late.
+In fact, I would be opposed to it. There are men in my profession who
+would take the chance, I've no doubt,—men who would risk all on the
+millionth part of a chance."
+
+"You think he would die on the operating table?"
+
+"Perhaps,—and perhaps not. That isn't the point. It would be useless,
+that's all."
+
+"Then why isn't Braden's theory sound and humane?" she demanded sharply.
+
+He frowned. "It is humane, Mrs. Thorpe," said he gravely, "but it isn't
+sound. I grant you that there is not one of us who would not rejoice in
+the death of a man in Mr. Thorpe's condition, but there is not one who
+would deliberately take his life."
+
+"It is all so cruel, so horribly cruel," she said. "The savages in the
+heart of the jungle can give us lessons in humanity."
+
+"I daresay," said he. "By the same reasoning, is it wise for us to receive
+lessons in savagery from them?"
+
+Anne was silent for a time. She felt called upon to utter a defence for
+Braden but hesitated because she could not choose her words. At last she
+spoke. "I have known Braden Thorpe all my life, Dr. Bates. He is sincere
+on this question. I think you might grant him that distinction."
+
+"Lord love you, madam, I haven't the faintest doubt as to his sincerity,"
+cried the old doctor. "He is voicing the sentiment of every honest man in
+my profession, but he overlooks the fact that sentiment has a very small
+place among the people we serve,—in other words, the people who love life
+and employ us to preserve it for them, even against the will of God."
+
+"They say that soldiers on the field of battle sometimes mercifully put an
+end to the lives of their mutilated comrades," she mused aloud.
+
+"And they make it their business to put an end to the lives of the
+perfectly sound and healthy men who confront them on that same field of
+battle," he was quick to return. "There is a wide distinction between a
+weapon and an instrument, Mrs. Thorpe, and there is just as much
+difference between the inspired soldier and the uninspired doctor, or
+between impulse and decision."
+
+"I believe that Mr. Thorpe would welcome death," said she.
+
+Dr. Bates shook his head. "My dear, if that were true he could obtain
+relief from his suffering to-day,—this very hour."
+
+"What do you mean?" she cried, with a swift shudder, as one suddenly
+assailed by foreboding.
+
+"There is a very sharp razor blade on his dressing-table," said Dr. Bates
+with curious deliberation. "Besides that, there is sufficient poison in
+four of those little—But there, I must say no more. You are alarmed,—and
+needlessly. He will not take his own life, you may be sure of that. By
+reaching out his hand he can grasp death, and he knows it. A month ago I
+said this to him: 'Mr. Thorpe, I must ask you to be very careful. If you
+do not sleep well to-night, take one of these tablets. If one does not
+give you relief, you may take another, but no more. Four of them would
+mean certain, almost instant death.' For more than a month that little box
+of tablets has lain at his elbow, so to speak. Death has been within reach
+all this time. Those tablets are still there, Mrs. Thorpe, so now you
+understand."
+
+"Yes," she said, staring at him as if fascinated; "they are still there. I
+understand."
+
+The thick envelope that Mr. Hollenback handed to Anne on the day of her
+wedding contained a properly executed assignment of securities amounting
+to two million dollars, together with an order to the executors under his
+will to pay in gold to her immediately after his death an amount
+sufficient to cover any shrinkage that may have occurred in the value of
+the bonds by reason of market fluctuations. In plain words, she was to
+have her full two millions. There was also an instrument authorising a
+certain Trust Company to act as depository for these securities, all of
+which were carefully enumerated and classified, with instructions to
+collect and pay to her during his lifetime the interest on said bonds. At
+his death the securities were to be delivered to her without recourse to
+the courts, and were to be free of the death tax, which was to be paid
+from the residue of the estate. There was a provision, however, that she
+was to pay the state, city and county taxes on the full assessed value of
+these bonds during his lifetime, and doubtless by premeditation on his
+part all of them were subject to taxation. This unsuspected "joker" in the
+arrangements was frequently alluded to by Anne's mother as a "direct slap
+in the face," for, said she, it was evidently intended as a reflection
+upon the Tresslyns who, as a family, it appears, were very skilful in
+avoiding the payment of taxes of any description. (It was a notorious fact
+that the richest of the Tresslyns was little more than a mendicant when
+the time came to take his solemn oath concerning taxable possessions.)
+
+Anne took a most amazing stand in respect to the interest on these bonds.
+Her income from them amounted to something over ninety thousand dollars a
+year, for Mr. Thorpe's investments were invariably sound and sure. He
+preferred a safe four or four and a half per cent, bond to an "attractive
+six." With the coming of each month in the year, Anne was notified by the
+Trust Company that anywhere from seven to eight thousand dollars had been
+credited to her account in the bank. She kept her own private account in
+another bank, and it was against this that she drew her checks. She did
+not withdraw a dollar of the interest arising from her matrimonial
+investment!
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn, supremely confident and self-assured, sustained the
+greatest shock of her life when she found that Anne was behaving in this
+quixotic manner about the profits of the enterprise. At first she could
+not believe her ears. But Anne was obdurate, She maintained that her
+contract called for two million dollars and no more, and she refused to
+consider this extraneous accumulation as rightfully her own. Her mother
+berated her without effect. She subjected her to countless attacks from as
+many angles, but Anne was as "hard as nails."
+
+"I'm not earning this ninety thousand a year, mother," she declared hotly,
+"and I shall not accept it as a gift. If I were Mr. Thorpe's wife in every
+sense of the term, it might be different, but as you happen to know I am
+nothing more than a figure of speech in his household. I am not even his
+nurse, nor his housekeeper, nor his friend. He despises me. I despise
+myself, for that matter, so he's not quite alone in his opinion. I've sold
+myself for a price, mother, but you must at least grant me the privilege
+of refusing to draw interest on my infamy."
+
+"Infamy!" gasped Mrs. Tresslyn. "Infamy? What rot,—what utter rot!"
+
+"Just the same, I shall confine myself to the original bargain. It is bad
+enough. I shan't make it any worse by taking money that doesn't belong to
+me."
+
+"Those bonds are yours," snapped Mrs. Tresslyn. "You are certainly
+entitled to the interest. You—"
+
+"They are _not_ mine," returned Anne decisively. "Not until Mr. Thorpe is
+dead, if you please. I am to have my pay after he has passed away, no
+sooner. That was the bargain."
+
+"You did not hesitate to accept some rather expensive pearls if I remember
+correctly," said Mrs. Tresslyn bitingly.
+
+"That was his affair, not mine," said Anne coolly. "He despises me so
+thoroughly that he thought he could go beyond his contract and tempt me
+with this interest we are quarrelling about, mother. He was sure that I
+would jump at it as a greedy fish snaps at the bait. But I disappointed
+him. I shall never forget the look of surprise,—no, it was wonder,—that
+came into his eyes when I flatly refused to take this interest. That was
+nearly a year ago. He began to treat me with a little respect after that.
+There is scarcely a month goes by that he does not bring up the subject. I
+think he has never abandoned the hope that I may give in, after all.
+Lately he has taken to chuckling when I make my monthly protest against
+accepting this money. He can't believe it of me. He thinks there is
+something amusing about what I have been foolish enough to call my sense
+of honour. Still, I believe he has a little better opinion of me than he
+had at first. And now, mother, once and for all, let us consider the
+matter closed. I will not take the interest until the principal is
+indisputably mine."
+
+"You are a fool, Anne," said her mother, in her desperation; "a simple,
+ridiculous fool. Why shouldn't you take it? It is yours. You can't afford
+to throw away ninety thousand dollars. The bank has orders to pay it over
+to you, and it is deposited to your account. That ought to settle the
+matter. If it isn't yours, may I enquire to whom does it belong?"
+
+"Time enough to decide that, mother," said Anne, so composedly that Mrs.
+Tresslyn writhed with exasperation. "I haven't quite decided who is to
+have it in the end. You may be sure, however, that I shall give it to some
+worthy cause. It shan't be wasted."
+
+"Do you mean to say that you will give it away—give it to charity?"
+groaned her mother.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+Words failed Mrs. Tresslyn. She could only stare in utter astonishment at
+this incomprehensible creature.
+
+"I may have to ask your advice when the time comes," went on Anne,
+complacently. "You must assist me in selecting the most worthy charity,
+mother dear."
+
+"I suppose it has never occurred to you that there is some justice in the
+much abused axiom that charity begins at home," said Mrs. Tresslyn
+frigidly.
+
+"Not in our home, however," said Anne. "That's where it ends, if it ends
+anywhere."
+
+"I have hesitated to speak to you about it, Anne, but I am afraid I shall
+now have to confess that I am sorely pressed for money," said Mrs.
+Tresslyn deliberately, and from that moment on she never ceased to employ
+this argument in her crusade against Anne's ingratitude.
+
+There was no estrangement. Neither of them could afford to go to such
+lengths. They saw a great deal of each other, and, despite the constant
+bickerings over the idle money, there was little to indicate that they
+were at loggerheads. Mrs. Tresslyn was forced at last to recognise the
+futility of her appeals to Anne's sense of duty, and contented herself
+with occasional bitter references to her own financial distress. She
+couldn't understand the girl, and she gave up trying. As a matter of fact,
+she began to fear that she would never be able to understand either one of
+her children. She could not even imagine how they could have come by the
+extraordinary stubbornness with which they appeared to be afflicted.
+
+As for George Tresslyn, he was going to the dogs as rapidly and as
+accurately as possible. He took to drink, and drink took him to cards. The
+efforts of Simmy Dodge and other friends, including the despised Percy
+Wintermill, were of no avail. He developed a pugnacious capacity for
+resenting advice. It was easy to see what was behind the big boy's
+behaviour: simple despair. He counted himself among the failures. In due
+time he lost his position in Wall Street and became a complaining
+dependent upon his mother's generosity. He met her arguments with the
+furious and constantly reiterated charge that she had ruined his life.
+That was another thing that Mrs. Tresslyn could not understand. How, in
+heaven's name, had she ruined his life?
+
+He took especial delight in directing her attention to the upward progress
+of the discredited Lutie.
+
+That attractive young person, much to Mrs. Tresslyn's disgust, actually
+had insinuated her vulgar presence into comparatively good society, and
+was coming on apace. Blithe, and gay, and discriminating, the former
+"mustard girl" was making a place for herself among the moderately smart
+people. Now and then her name appeared in the society columns of the
+newspapers, where, much to Mrs. Tresslyn's annoyance, she was always
+spoken of as "Mrs. George Dexter Tresslyn." Moreover, in several
+instances, George's mother had found her own name printed next to Lutie's
+in the alphabetical list of guests at rather large entertainments, and
+once,—heaven forfend that it should happen again!—the former "mustard
+girl's" picture was published on the same page of a supplement with that
+of the exclusive Mrs. Tresslyn and her daughter, Mrs. Templeton Thorpe,
+over the caption: "The Tresslyn Triumvirate," supplied by a subsequently
+disengaged art editor.
+
+George came near to being turned out into the street one day when he so
+far forgot himself as to declare that Lutie was worth the whole Tresslyn
+lot put together, and she ought to be thankful she had had "the can tied
+to her" in time. His mother was livid with fury.
+
+"If you ever mention that person's name in this house again, you will have
+to leave it forever. If she's worth anything at all it is because she has
+appropriated the Tresslyn name that you appear to belittle. You—"
+
+"She didn't appropriate it," flared George. "I remember distinctly of
+having given it to her. I don't care what you say or do, mother, she
+deserves a lot of credit. She's made a place for herself, she's decent,
+she's clever—"
+
+"She hasn't earned a place for herself, let me remind you, sir. She made
+it out of the proceeds of a sale, the sale of a husband. Don't forget,
+George, that she sold you for so much cash."
+
+"A darned good bargain," said he, "seeing that she got me at my own
+value,—which was nothing at all."
+
+Lutie went on her way serenely, securely. If she had a thought for George
+Tresslyn she succeeded very well in keeping it to herself. Men would have
+made love to her, but she denied them that exquisite distraction. Back in
+her mind lurked something that guaranteed immunity.
+
+The year had dealt its changes to Lutie as well as to the others, but they
+were not important. Discussing herself frankly with Simmy Dodge one
+evening, she said:
+
+"I'm getting on, am I not, Simmy? But, after all, why shouldn't I? I'm a
+rather decent sort, and I'm not a real vulgarian, am I? Like those people
+over there at the next table, I mean. The more I go about, the more I
+realise that class is a matter of acquaintance. If you know the right sort
+of people, and have known them long enough, you unconsciously form habits
+that the other sort of people haven't got, so you're said to have 'class.'
+Of course, you've got to be imitative, you've got to be able to mimic the
+real ones, but that isn't difficult if you're half way bright, don't you
+know."
+
+"Lord love you, Lutie, you don't have to imitate any one," said Simmy.
+"You're in a class by yourself."
+
+"Thanks, Simmy. Don't let any one else at the table hear you say such
+things to me, though. They would think that I'd just come in from the
+country. Why shouldn't I get on? How many of the girls that you meet in
+your day's walk have graduated from a high-school? How many of the great
+ladies who rule New York society possess more than a common school
+education, outside of the tricks they've learned after they put on long
+frocks? Not many, let me tell you, Simmy. Four-fifths of them can't spell
+Connecticut, and they don't know how many e's there are in 'separate.' I
+graduated from a high school in Philadelphia, and my mother did the same
+thing before me. I also played on the basket-ball team, if that means
+anything to you. My parents were poor but respectable, God-fearing people,
+as they say in the novels, and they were quite healthy as parents go in
+these days, when times are hard and children so cheap that nobody's
+without a good sized pack of them. I was born with a brain that was meant
+to be used."
+
+"What are you two talking about so secretively?" demanded Mrs. Rumsey
+Fenn, across the table from them.
+
+"Ourselves, of course," said Lutie. "Bright people always have something
+in reserve, my dear. We save the very best for an extremity. Simmy
+delights in talking about me, and I love to talk about him. It's the
+simplest kind of small talk and doesn't disturb us in the least if we
+should happen to be thinking of something else at the time."
+
+"Have you heard when Braden Thorpe is expected home, Simmy?"
+
+"Had a letter from him yesterday. He sails next week. Is there any
+tinkering to be done for your family this season, Madge? Any little old
+repairs to be made?"
+
+"I'm afraid not," said Mrs. Fenn desolately, "Rumsey positively refuses to
+imagine he's got a pain anywhere, and the baby's tonsils are disgustingly
+healthy."
+
+"Old Templeton Thorpe's in a critical condition, I hear," put in Rumsey
+Fenn. "There'll be a choice widow in the market before long, I pledge
+you."
+
+"Can't they operate?" inquired his wife.
+
+"Not for malignant widows," said Mr. Fenn.
+
+"Oh, don't be silly. I should think old Mr. Thorpe would let Braden
+operate. Just think what a fine boost it would give Braden if the
+operation was a success."
+
+"And also if it failed," said one of the men, sententiously. "He's the
+principal heir, isn't he?"
+
+Simmy scowled. "Brady would be the last man in the world to tackle the
+job," he said, and the subject was dropped at once.
+
+And so the end of the year finds Templeton Thorpe on his death bed, Anne a
+quixotic ingrate, George among the diligently unemployed, Lutie on the
+crest of popularity, Braden in contempt of court, and Mrs. Tresslyn sorely
+tried by the vagaries of each and every one of the aforesaid persons.
+
+Simmy Dodge appears to be the only one among them all who stands just as
+he did at the beginning of the year. He has neither lost nor gained. He
+has merely stood still.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+When Dr. Braden Thorpe arrived in New York City on the fourteenth of March
+he was met at the pier by a horde of newspaper men. For the first time, he
+was made to appreciate "the importance of being earnest." These men,
+through a frequently prompted spokesman, put questions to him that were so
+startling in their boldness that he was staggered by the misconception
+that had preceded him into his home land.
+
+He was asked such questions as these: "But, doctor, would you do that sort
+of thing to a person who was dear to you,—say a wife, a mother or an only
+child?" "How could you be sure that a person was hopelessly afflicted?"
+"Have you ever put this theory of yours into practice on the other side?"
+"How many lives have you taken in this way, doctor,—if it is a fair
+question?" "Do you expect to practise openly in New York?" "And if you do
+practise, how many patients do you imagine would come to you, knowing your
+views?" "How would you kill 'em,—with poison or what?" And so on, almost
+without end.
+
+He was to find that a man can become famous and infamous in a single
+newspaper headline, and as for the accuracy of the interviews there was
+but one thing to be said: the questions were invariably theirs and the
+answers also. He did his best to make them understand that he was merely
+advancing a principle and not practising a crime, that his hand had never
+been brought down to kill, that his heart was quite as tender as any other
+man's, and that he certainly was not advocating murder in any degree. Nor
+was he at present attempting to proselyte.
+
+When he finally escaped the reporters, his brow was wet with the sweat of
+one who finds himself confronted by a superior force and with no means of
+defence. He knew that he was to be assailed by every paper in New York.
+They would tear him to shreds.
+
+Wade was at the pier. He waited patiently in the background while the
+returned voyager dealt with the reporters, appearing abruptly at Braden's
+elbow as he was giving his keys to the inspector.
+
+"Good morning, sir," said Wade, in what must be recorded as a confidential
+tone. He might have been repeating the salutation of yesterday morning for
+all that his manner betrayed.
+
+"Hello, Wade! Glad to see you." Braden shook hands with the man. "How is
+my grandfather?"
+
+"Better, sir," said the other, meaning that his master was more
+comfortable than he had been during the night.
+
+Wade was not as much of an optimist as his reply would seem to indicate.
+It was his habit to hold bad news in reserve as long as possible,
+doubtless for the satisfaction it gave him to dribble it out sparingly. He
+had found it to his advantage to break all sorts of news hesitatingly to
+his master, for he was never by way of knowing what Mr. Thorpe would
+regard as bad news. For example, early in his career as valet, he had
+rushed into Mr. Thorpe's presence with what he had every reason to believe
+would be good news. He had been sent over to the home of Mr. Thorpe's son
+for an important bit of information, and he supplied it by almost shouting
+as he burst into the library: "It's a fine boy, sir,—a splendid ten-
+pounder, sir." But Mr. Thorpe, instead of accepting the good news gladly,
+spoiled everything by anxiously inquiring, "And how is the poor little
+mother getting along?"—a question which caused Wade grave annoyance, for
+he had to reply: "I'm sorry, sir, but she's not expected to live the hour
+out."
+
+All of which goes to show that Mr. Thorpe never regarded any news as good
+without first satisfying himself that it wasn't bad.
+
+"I have the automobile outside, sir," went on Wade, "and I am to look
+after your luggage."
+
+"Thank you, Wade. If you'll just grab these bags and help the porter out
+to the car with them, I'll be greatly obliged. And then you may drop me at
+the Wolcott. I shall stop there for a few days, until I get my bearings."
+
+Wade coughed insinuatingly. "Beg pardon, sir, but I was to fetch you
+straight home."
+
+"Do you mean to my grandfather's?" demanded the young man sharply.
+
+"Yes, sir. Those were the orders."
+
+"Orders to be disobeyed, I fear, Wade," said Braden darkly. "I am not
+going to Mr. Thorpe's house."
+
+"I understand, sir," said Wade patiently. "I quite understand. Still it is
+my duty to report to you that Mr. Thorpe is expecting you."
+
+"Nevertheless, I shall not—"
+
+"Perhaps I should inform you that your grandfather is—er—confined to his
+bed. As a matter of fact, Mr. Braden, he is confined to his death-bed."
+
+Braden was shocked. Later on, as he was being rushed across town in the
+car, he drew from Wade all of the distressing details. He had never
+suspected the truth. Indeed, his grandfather had kept the truth from him
+so successfully that he had come to look upon him as one of the fortunate
+few who arrive at death in the full possession of health, those who die
+because the machinery stops of its own accord. And now the worst possible
+death was stalking his benefactor, driving,—always driving without pity.
+Braden's heart was cold, his face pallid with dread as he hurried up the
+steps to the front door of the familiar old house.
+
+He had forgotten Anne and his vow never to enter the house so long as she
+was mistress of it. He forgot that her freedom was about to become an
+accomplished fact, that the thing she had anticipated was now at hand. He
+had often wondered how long it would be in coming to her, and how she
+would stand up under the strain of the half score of years or more that
+conceivably might be left to the man she had married. There had been times
+when he laughed in secret anticipation of the probabilities that attended
+her unwholesome adventure. Years of it! Years of bondage before she could
+lay hands upon the hard-earned fruits of freedom!
+
+As he entered the hall Anne came out of the library to greet him. There
+was no hesitation on her part, no pretending. She came directly to him,
+her hand extended. He had stopped stock-still on seeing her.
+
+"I am glad you have come, Braden," she said, letting her hand fall to her
+side. Either he had ignored it or was too dismayed to notice it at all.
+"Mr. Thorpe has waited long and patiently for you. I am glad you have
+come."
+
+He was staring at her, transfixed. There was no change in her appearance.
+She was just as he had seen her on that last, never-to-be-forgotten
+day,—the same tall, slender, beautiful Anne. And yet, as he stared, he saw
+something in her eyes that had not been there before: the shadow of fear.
+
+"I must see him immediately," said he, and was at once conscious of a
+regret that he had not first said something kind to her. She had the
+stricken look in her eyes.
+
+"You will find him in his old room," she said quietly. "The nurse is a
+friend of yours, a Miss McKane."
+
+"Thank you." He turned away, but at the foot of the staircase paused. "Is
+there no hope?" he inquired. "Is it as bad as Wade—"
+
+"There is only one hope, Braden," she said, "and that is that he may die
+soon." Curiously, he was not shocked by this remark. He appreciated the
+depth of feeling behind it. She was thinking of Templeton Thorpe, not of
+herself.
+
+"I—I can't tell you how shocked, how grieved I am," he said. "It
+is—terrible."
+
+She drew a few steps nearer. "I want you to feel, Braden, that you are
+free to come and go—and to stay—in this house. I know that you have said
+you would not come here while I am its mistress. I am in no sense its
+mistress. I have no place here. If you prefer not to see me, I shall make
+it possible by remaining in my room. It is only fair that I should speak
+to you at once about—about this. That is why I waited here to see you. I
+may as well tell you that Mr. Thorpe does not expect me to visit his
+room,—in fact, he undoubtedly prefers that I should not do so. I have
+tried to help him. I have done my best, Braden. I want you to know that.
+It is possible that he may tell you as much. Your place is here. You must
+not regard me an obstacle. It will not be necessary for you to communicate
+with me. I shall understand. Dr. Bates keeps me fully informed." She spoke
+without the slightest trace of bitterness.
+
+He heard her to the end without lifting his gaze from the floor. When she
+was through, he looked at her.
+
+"You _are_ the mistress of the house, Anne. I shall not overlook the fact,
+even though you may. If my grandfather wishes me to do so, I shall remain
+here in the house with him—to the end, not simply as his relative, but to
+do what little I can in a professional way. Why was I not informed of his
+condition?" His manner was stern.
+
+"You must ask that question of Mr. Thorpe himself," said she. "As I have
+told you, he is the master of the house. The rules are his, not mine; and,
+by the same token, the commands are his."
+
+He hesitated for a moment. "You might have sent word to me. Why didn't
+you?"
+
+"Because I was under orders," she said steadily. "Mr. Thorpe would not
+allow us to send for you. There was an excellent purpose back of his
+decision to keep you on the other side of the Atlantic until you were
+ready to return of your own accord. I daresay, if you reflect for a
+moment, you will see through his motives."
+
+His eyes narrowed. "There was no cause for apprehension," he said coldly.
+
+"It was something I could not discuss with him, however," she returned,
+"and so I was hardly in a position to advise him. You must believe me,
+Braden, when I say that I am glad for his sake that you are here. He will
+die happily now."
+
+"He has suffered—so terribly?"
+
+"It has been too horrible,—too horrible," she cried, suddenly covering her
+eyes and shivering as with a great chill.
+
+The tears rushed to Braden's eyes. "Poor old granddaddy," he murmured.
+Then, after a second's hesitation, he turned and swiftly mounted the
+stairs.
+
+Anne, watching him from below, was saying to herself, over and over again:
+"He will never forgive me, he will never forgive me." Later on, alone in
+the gloomy library, she sat staring at the curtained window through which
+the daylight came darkly, and passed final judgment upon herself after
+months of indecision: "I have been too sure of myself, too sure of him.
+What a fool I've been to count on a thing that is so easily killed. What a
+fool I've been to go on believing that his love would survive in spite of
+the blow I've given it. I've lost him. I may as well say farewell to the
+silly hope I've been coddling all these months." She frowned as she
+allowed her thoughts to run into another channel. "But they shall not
+laugh at me. I'll play the game out. No whimpering, old girl. Stand up to
+it."
+
+Wade was waiting outside his master's door, his ear cocked as of old. The
+same patient, obsequious smile greeted Braden as he came up.
+
+"He knows you are here, Mr. Braden. I sent in word by the nurse."
+
+"He is conscious?"
+
+"Yes, sir. That's the worst of it. Always conscious, sir."
+
+"Then he can't be as near to death as you think, Wade. He—"
+
+"That's a pity, sir," said Wade frankly. "I was in hopes that it would
+soon be all over for him."
+
+"Am I to go in at once?"
+
+"May I have a word or two with you first, sir?" said Wade, lowering his
+voice to a whisper and sending an uneasy glance over his shoulder. "Come
+this way, sir. It's safer over here. Uncommonly sharp ears he has, sir."
+
+"Well, what is it? I must not be delayed—"
+
+"I shan't keep you a minute, Mr. Braden. It's something I feel I ought to
+tell you. Mr. Thorpe is quite in his right mind, sir, so you'll appreciate
+more fully what a shock his proposition was to me. In a word, Mr. Braden,
+he has offered me a great sum of money if I'll put four of those little
+pills into a glass of water to-night and give it to him to drink. There's
+enough poison in them to kill three men in a flash, sir. My God, Mr.
+Braden, it was—it was terrible!" The man's face was livid.
+
+"A great sum of money—" began Braden dumbly. Then the truth struck him
+like a blow in the face. "Good God, Wade,—he—he wanted you to _kill_ him!"
+
+"That's it, sir, that's it," whispered Wade jerkily. "He has an envelope
+up there with fifty thousand dollars in it. He had me count them a week
+ago, right before his eyes, and hide the envelope in a drawer. You see how
+he trusts me, sir? He knows that I could rob him to-night if I wanted to
+do so. Or what's to prevent my making off with the money after he's gone?
+Nobody would ever know. But he knows me too well. He trusts me. I was to
+give him the poison the night after you got home, and I would never be
+suspected of doing it because the pills have been lying on his table for
+weeks, ready for him to take at any time. Every one might say that he took
+them himself, don't you see?"
+
+"Then, in God's name, why doesn't he take them,—why does he ask you to
+give them to him?" cried Braden, an icy perspiration on his brow.
+
+"That's the very point, sir," explained Wade. "He says he has tried to do
+it, but—well, he just can't, sir. Mr. Thorpe is a God-fearing man. He will
+not take his own life. He—he says he believes there is a hell, Mr. Braden.
+I just wanted to tell you that I—I can't do what he asks me to do. Not for
+all the money in the world. He seems to think that I don't believe there
+is a hell. Anyhow, sir, he appears to think it would be quite all right
+for me to kill a fellow man. Beg pardon, sir; I forgot that you have been
+writing all these articles about—"
+
+"It's all right, Wade," interrupted Braden. "Tell me, has he made this
+proposition to any one else? To the nurses, to Murray—any one?"
+
+Wade hesitated. "I'm quite sure he hasn't appealed to any one but me, sir,
+except—that is to say—"
+
+"Who else?"
+
+"He told me plainly that he couldn't ask any of the nurses to do it,
+because he thought it ought to be done by a friend or a—member of the
+family. The doctors, of course, might do it unbeknownst to him, but they
+won't, sir."
+
+"Whom else did he speak to about it?" insisted Braden.
+
+"I can't be sure, but I think he has spoken to Mrs. Thorpe a good many
+times about it. Every time she is alone with him, in fact, sir. I've heard
+him pleading with her,—yes, and cursing her, too,—and her voice is always
+full of horror when she says 'No, no! I will not do it! I cannot!' You
+see, sir, I always stand here by the door, waiting to be called, so I
+catch snatches of conversation when their voices are raised. Besides,
+she's always as white as a sheet when she comes out, and two or three
+times she has actually run to her room as if she was afraid he was
+pursuing her. I can't help feeling, Mr. Braden, that he considers her a
+member of the family, and so long as I won't do it, he—"
+
+"Good God, Wade! Don't say anything more! I—" His knees suddenly seemed
+about to give way under him. He went on in a hoarse whisper: "Why, I—I am
+a member of the family. You don't suppose he'll—you don't suppose—"
+
+"I just thought I'd tell you, sir," broke in Wade, "so's you might be
+prepared. Will you go in now, sir? He is most eager to see you."
+
+Braden entered the room, sick with horror. A member of the family! A
+member of the family to do the killing!
+
+He was shocked by the appearance of the sick old man. Templeton Thorpe had
+wasted to a thin, greyish shadow. His lips were as white as his cheek, and
+that was the colour of chalk. Only his eyes were bright and gleaming with
+the life that remained to him. The grip of his hand was strong and firm,
+and his voice, too, was steady.
+
+"I've been waiting for you, Braden, my boy," said Mr. Thorpe, some time
+after the greetings. He turned himself weakly in the bed and, drawing a
+little nearer to the edge, lowered his voice to a more confidential tone.
+His eyes were burning, his lips drawn tightly across his teeth,—for even
+at his age Templeton Thorpe was not a toothless thing. They were alone in
+the room. The nurse had seized upon the prospect of a short respite.
+
+"I wish I had known, granddaddy," lamented Braden. "You should have sent
+for me long ago."
+
+"That is the fifth or sixth time you've made that remark in the last ten
+minutes," said Mr. Thorpe, a querulous note stealing into his voice.
+"Don't say it again. By the way, suppose that I had sent for you: what
+could you have done? What good could you have done? Answer me that."
+
+"There is no telling, sir. At least, I could have done my share of
+the—that is to say, I might have been useful in a great many ways. You may
+be sure, sir, that I should have been in constant attendance. I should
+have been on hand night and day."
+
+"You would have assisted Anne in the death watch, eh?" said Mr. Thorpe,
+with a ghastly smile.
+
+"Don't say that, sir," cried Braden, flinching.
+
+"I may not have the opportunity to speak with you again,
+Braden,—privately, I mean,—and, as my time is short, I want to confess to
+you that I have been agreeably surprised in Anne. She has tried to do her
+best. She has not neglected me. She regards me as a human being in great
+pain, and I am beginning to think that she has a heart. There is the bare
+possibility, my boy, that she might have made you a good wife if I had not
+put temptation in her way. In any event, she would not have dishonoured
+you. It goes without saying that she has been wife to me in name only. You
+may find some comfort in that. In the past few weeks I have laid even
+greater temptations before her and she has not fallen. I cannot explain
+further to you, but—" here he smiled wanly—"some day she may tell you in
+the inevitable attempt to justify herself and win back what she has lost.
+Don't interrupt me, please. She _will_ try, never fear, and you will have
+to be strong to resist her. I know what you would say to me, so don't say
+it. You are horrified by the thought of it, but the day will come when you
+must again raise your hand against the woman who loves you. Make no
+mistake, Braden; she loves you."
+
+"I believe I would strike her dead if she made the slightest appeal to—"
+
+"Never mind," snapped the old man. "I know you well enough to credit you
+with self-respect, if not self-abnegation. What I am trying to get at is
+this: do you hold a grudge against me for revealing this girl's true
+character to you?"
+
+"I must ask you to excuse me from answering that question, grandfather,"
+said Braden, compressing his lips.
+
+The old man eyed him closely. "Is that an admission that you think I have
+wronged you in saving you from the vampires?" he persisted ironically.
+
+"I cannot discuss your wife with you, sir," said the other.
+
+Mr. Thorpe continued to regard his grandson narrowly for a moment or two
+longer, and then a look of relief came into his eyes. "I see. I shouldn't
+have asked it of you. Nevertheless, I am satisfied. My experiment is a
+success. You are qualified to distinguish between the Tresslyn greed and
+the Tresslyn love, so I have not failed. They put the one above the other
+and so far they have trusted to luck. If Anne had spurned my money I
+haven't the slightest doubt that she would have married you and made you a
+good wife. The fact that she did not spurn my money would seem to prove
+that she wouldn't make anybody a good wife. I know all this is painful to
+you, my boy, but I must say it to you before I die. You see I am dying.
+That's quite apparent, even to the idiots who are trying to keep me alive.
+They do not fool me with their: 'Aha, Mr. Thorpe, how are we to-day?
+Better, eh?' I am dying by inches,—fractions of inches, to be precise." He
+stopped short, out of breath after this long speech.
+
+Braden laid his hand upon the bony fore-arm. "How long have you known,
+granddaddy, that you had this—this—"
+
+"Cancer? Say it, my boy. I'm not afraid of the word. Most people are. It's
+a dreadful word. How can I answer your question? Years, no doubt. It
+became active a year and a half ago. I knew what it was, even then."
+
+"In heaven's name, sir, why did you let it go on? An operation at that
+time might have—"
+
+"You forget that I could afford to wait. When a man gets to be as old as I
+am he can philosophise even in the matter of death. What is a year or two,
+one way or the other, to me? An operation is either an experiment or a
+last resort, isn't it? Well, my boy, I preferred to look upon it as a last
+resort, and as such I concluded to put it off until the last minute, when
+it wouldn't make any difference which way it resulted. If it had resulted
+fatally a year and a half ago, what would I have gained? If it should take
+place to-morrow, with the same result, haven't I cheated Time out of
+eighteen months?"
+
+"But the pain, the suffering," cried Braden. "You might at least have
+spared yourself the whole lifetime of pain that you have lived in these
+last few months. You haven't cheated pain out of its year and a half."
+
+"True," said Mr. Thorpe, his lips twitching with the pain he was trying to
+defy; "I have not been able to laugh at the futility of pain. Ah!" It was
+almost a scream that issued from between his stretched lips. He began to
+writhe....
+
+"Come in again to-night," he said half an hour later, whispering the words
+with difficulty. The two nurses and the doctor's assistant, who had been
+staying in the house for more than a week, now stood back from the
+bedside, dripping with perspiration. The paroxysm had been one of the
+worst he had experienced. They had believed for a time that it was also to
+be the last. Braden Thorpe, shaking like a leaf because of the very
+inactivity that was forced upon him by the activity of others, wiped the
+sweat from his brow, and nodded his head in speechless despair. "Come in
+to-night, after you've talked with Anne and Dr. Bates. I'm easier now. It
+can't go on much longer, you see. Bates gives me a couple of weeks. That
+means a couple of centuries of pain, however. Go now and talk it over with
+Anne."
+
+With this singular admonition pounding away at his senses, Braden went out
+of the room. Wade,—the ever-present Wade,—was outside the door. His
+expression was as calmly attentive as it would have been were his master
+yawning after a healthy nap instead of screaming with all the tortures of
+the damned. As Braden hurried by, hardly knowing whither he went, the
+servant did something he had never done before in his life. He ventured to
+lay a detaining hand upon the arm of a superior.
+
+"Did he ask you to—to do it, Master Braden?" he whispered hoarsely. The
+man's eyes were glazed with dread.
+
+Braden stopped. At first he did not comprehend. Then Wade's meaning was
+suddenly revealed to him. He drew back, aghast.
+
+"Good Lord, no! No, no!" he cried out.
+
+"Well," said Wade deliberately, "he will, mark my words, sir. I don't mind
+saying to you, Mr. Braden, that he _depends_ upon you."
+
+"Are you crazy, Wade?" gasped Braden, searching the man's face with an
+intentness that betrayed his own fear that the prophecy would come true.
+Something had already told him that his grandfather would depend upon him
+for complete relief,—and it was that something that had gripped his heart
+when he entered the sick-room, and still gripped it with all the infernal
+tenacity of inevitableness.
+
+He hurried on, like one hunted and in search of a place in which to hide
+until the chase had passed. At the foot of the stairs he came upon Murray,
+the butler.
+
+"Mrs. Thorpe says that you are to go to your old room, Mr. Braden," said
+the butler. "Will you care for tea, sir, or would you prefer something a
+little stronger?"
+
+"Nothing, Murray, thank you," replied Braden, cold with a strange new
+terror. He could not put aside the impression that Murray, the bibulous
+Murray, was also regarding him in the light of an executioner. Somewhere
+back in his memory there was aroused an old story about the citizens who
+sat up all night to watch for the coming of the hangman who was to do a
+grewsome thing at dawn. He tried to shake off the feeling, he tried to
+laugh at the fantastic notion that had so swiftly assailed him. "I think I
+shall go to my room. Call me, if I am needed."
+
+He did not want to see Anne. He shrank from the revelations that were
+certain to come from the harassed wife of the old man who wanted to die.
+As he remounted the stairs, he was subtly aware that some one opened a
+door below and watched him as he fled. He did not look behind, but he knew
+that the watcher was white-faced and pleading, and that she too was
+counting on him for support.
+
+An hour later, a servant knocked at his door. The afternoon was far gone
+and the sky was overcast with sinister streaks of clouds that did not
+move, but hung like vast Zeppelins over the harbour beyond: long, blue-
+black clouds with white bellies. Mournful clouds that waited for the time
+to come when they could burst into tears! He had been watching them as
+they crept up over the Jersey shores, great stealthy birds of ill-omen,
+giving out no sound yet ponderous in their flight. He started at the
+gentle tapping on his door; a strange hope possessed his soul. Was this a
+friendly hand that knocked? Was its owner bringing him the word that the
+end had come and that he would not be called upon to deny the great
+request? He sprang to the door.
+
+"Dr. Bates is below, sir," said the maid. "He would like to see you before
+he goes."
+
+Braden's heart sank. "I'll come at once, Katie."
+
+There were three doctors in the library. Dr. Bates went straight to the
+point.
+
+"Your grandfather, Braden, has a very short time to live. He has just
+dismissed us. Our services are no longer required in this case, if I—"
+
+"Dismissed you?" cried Braden, unbelievingly.
+
+Dr. Bates smiled. "We can do nothing more for him, my boy. It is just as
+well that we should go. He—"
+
+"But, my God, sir, you cannot leave him to die in—"
+
+"Have patience, my lad. We are not leaving him to die alone. By his
+express command, we are turning the case over to you. You are to be his
+sole—"
+
+"I refuse!" shouted Braden.
+
+"You cannot refuse,—you will not, I am sure. For your benefit I may say
+that the case is absolutely hopeless. Not even a miracle can save him. If
+you will give me your closest attention, I will, with Dr. Bray's support,
+describe his condition and all that has led up to this unhappy crisis. Sit
+down, my boy. I am your good friend. I am not your critic, nor your
+traducer. Sit down and listen calmly, if you can. You should know just
+what is before you, and you must also know that every surgeon who has been
+called in consultation expresses but one opinion. In truth, it is not an
+opinion that they venture, but an unqualified decision."
+
+For a long time Braden sat as if paralysed and listened to the words of
+the fine old doctor. At last the three arose and stood over him.
+
+"You understand everything now, Braden," said Dr. Bates, a tremor in his
+voice. "May God direct your course. We shall not come here again. You are
+not to feel that we are deserting you, however, for that is not true. We
+go because you have come, because you have been put in sole charge. And
+now, my boy, I have something else to say to you as an old friend. I know
+your views. Not I alone, but Dr. Bray and thousands of others, have felt
+as you feel about such things. There have been countless instances, like
+the one at hand, when we have wished that we might be faithless to the
+tenets of a noble profession. But we have never faltered. It is not our
+province to be merciful, if I may put it in that way, but to be
+conscientious. It is our duty to save, not to destroy. That is what binds
+every doctor to his patient. Take the advice of an old man, Braden, and
+don't allow your pity to run away with your soul. Take my advice, lad. Let
+God do the deliberate killing. He will do it in his own good time, for all
+of us. I speak frankly, for I know you consider me your friend and well-
+wisher."
+
+"Thank you, Dr. Bates," said Braden, hoarsely. "The advice is not needed,
+however. I am not a murderer. I could not kill that poor old man upstairs,
+no matter how dreadfully he suffers. I fear that you have overlooked the
+fact that I am an advocate, not a performer, of merciful deeds. You should
+not confuse my views with my practice. I advocate legalising the
+destruction of the hopelessly afflicted. Inasmuch as it is not a legal
+thing to do at present, I shall continue to practise my profession as all
+the rest of you do: conscientiously." He was standing before them. His
+face was white and his hands were clenched.
+
+"I am glad to hear you say that, Braden," said Dr. Bates gently. "Forgive
+me. One last word, however. If you need me at any time, I stand ready to
+come to you. If you conclude to operate, I—I shall advise against it, of
+course,—you may depend upon me to be with you when you—"
+
+"But you have said, Dr. Bates, that you do not believe an operation would
+be of—"
+
+"In my opinion it would be fatal. But you must not forget that God rules,
+not we mortals. We do not know everything. I am frank to confess that
+there is not one among us who is willing to take the chance, if that is a
+guide to you. That's all, my boy. Good-bye. God be with you!"
+
+They passed out of and away from the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+In the course of the evening, desolated by the ugly responsibility that
+had been thrust upon him, Braden put aside his scruples, his antipathy,
+and sent word to Anne that he would like to discuss the new situation with
+her. She had not appeared for dinner, which was a doleful affair; she did
+not even favour him with an apology for not coming down. Distasteful as
+the interview promised to be for him, he realised that it should not be
+postponed. His grandfather's wife would have to be consulted. It was her
+right to decide who should attend the sick man. While he was acutely
+confident that she would not oppose his solitary attendance, there still
+struggled in his soul the hope that she might, for the sake of appearances
+at least, insist on calling in other physicians. It was a hope that he
+dared not encourage, however. Fate had settled the matter. It was ordained
+that he should stand where he now stood in this unhappy hour.
+
+He recalled his grandfather's declaration that she still loved him. The
+thought turned him sick with loathing, for he believed in his heart that
+it was true. He knew that Anne loved him, and always would love him. But
+he also knew that every vestige of love and respect for her had gone out
+of his heart long ago and that he now felt only the bitterness of
+disillusionment so far as she was concerned. He was not afraid of her. She
+had lost all power to move a single drop of blood in his veins. But he was
+afraid _for_ her.
+
+She came downstairs at nine o'clock. He had not gone near the sick-room
+since his initial visit, earlier in the day, literally obeying the command
+of the sick man: to talk matters over with Anne before coming again to see
+him.
+
+"I am sorry to have kept you waiting," she said simply, as she advanced
+into the room. "I have been talking over the telephone with my mother. She
+does not come here any more. It has been nearly three weeks since she last
+came to see me. The dread of it all, don't you know. She is positive that
+she has all of the symptoms. I suppose it is a not uncommon fault of the
+imagination. Of course, I go to see her every afternoon. I see no one
+else, Braden, except good old Simmy Dodge. He stops in nearly every day to
+inquire, and to cheer me up if possible."
+
+She was attired in a simple evening gown,—an old one, she hastily would
+have informed a woman visitor,—and it was hard for him to believe that
+this was not the lovely, riant Anne Tresslyn of a year ago instead of the
+hardened mistress of Templeton Thorpe's home. There was no sign of
+confusion or uncertainty in her manner, and not the remotest indication
+that her heart still owned love for him. If she retained a spark of the
+old flame in that beautiful body of hers, it was very carefully secreted
+behind a mask of indifference. She met his gaze frankly, unswervingly. Her
+poise was perfect,—marvellously so in the face of his ill-concealed
+antipathy.
+
+"I suppose you know that I have been left in sole charge of the case," he
+said, without preface.
+
+"Oh, yes," she replied calmly. "It was Mr. Thorpe's desire."
+
+"And yours?"
+
+"Certainly. Were you hoping that I would interpose an objection?"
+
+"Yes. I am not qualified to take charge of—"
+
+"Pardon me, Braden, if I remind you, that so far as Mr. Thorpe's chances
+for recovery are concerned, he might safely be attended by the simplest
+novice. The result would be the same." She spoke without a trace of irony.
+"Dr. Bates and the others were willing to continue, but what was the use?
+They do not leave you a thing to stand on, Braden. There is nothing that
+you can do. I am sorry. It seems a pity for you to have come home to
+this."
+
+He smiled faintly, whether at her use of the word "home" or the prospect
+she laid down for him it would be difficult to say.
+
+"Shall we sit down, Anne, and discuss the situation?" he said. "It is one
+of my grandfather's orders, so I suppose we shall have to obey."
+
+She sank gracefully into a deep chair at the foot of the library table,
+and motioned for him to take one near-by. The light from the chandelier
+fell upon her brown hair, and glinted.
+
+"It is very strange, Braden, that we should come into each other's lives
+again, and in this manner. It seems so long ago—"
+
+"Is it necessary to discuss ourselves, Anne?"
+
+She regarded him steadily. "Yes, I think so," she said. "We must at least
+convince ourselves that the past has no right to interfere with or
+overshadow what we may choose to call the present,—or the future, for that
+matter, if I may look a little farther ahead. The fact remains that we are
+here together, Braden, in spite of all that has happened, and we must make
+the best of it. The world,—our own little world, I mean,—will be watching
+us. We must watch ourselves. Oh, don't misconstrue that remark, please. We
+must see to it that the world does not judge us entirely by our past." She
+was very cool about it, he thought,—and confident.
+
+"As I said before, Anne, I see no occasion to—"
+
+"Very well," she interrupted. "I beg your pardon. You asked me to see you
+to-night. What is it that you wish to say to me?"
+
+He leaned forward in the chair, his elbows on the arms of it, and regarded
+her fixedly. "Has my grandfather ever appealed to you to—to—" He stopped,
+for she had turned deathly pale; she closed her eyes tightly as if to shut
+out some visible horror; a perceptible shudder ran through her slender
+body. As Braden started to rise, she raised her eye-lids, and in her
+lovely eyes he saw horror, dread, appeal, all in one. "I'm sorry," he
+murmured, in distress "I should have been more—"
+
+"It's all right," she said, recovering herself with an effort. "I thought
+I had prepared myself for the question you were so sure to ask. I have
+been through hell in the past two weeks, Braden. I have had to listen to
+the most infamous proposals—but perhaps it would be better for me to
+repeat them to you just as they were made to me, and let you judge for
+yourself."
+
+She leaned back in the chair, as if suddenly tired. Her voice was low and
+tense, and at no time during her recital did she raise it above the level
+at which she started. Plainly, she was under a severe strain and was
+afraid that she might lose control of herself.
+
+It appeared that Mr. Thorpe had put her to the supreme test. In brief, he
+had called upon his young wife to put him out of his misery! Cunningly, he
+had beset her with the most amazing temptations. Her story was one of
+those incredible things that one cannot believe because the mind refuses
+to entertain the utterly revolting. In the beginning the old man, consumed
+by pain, implored her to perform a simple act of mercy. He told her of the
+four little pellets and the glass of water. At that time she treated the
+matter lightly. The next day he began his sly, persistent campaign against
+what he was pleased to call her inhumanity; he did not credit her with
+scruples. There was something Machiavellian in the sufferer's scheming. He
+declared that there could be no criminal intent on her part, therefore her
+conscience would never be afflicted. The fact that he consented to the act
+was enough to clear her conscience, if that was all that restrained her.
+She realised that he was in earnest now, and fled the room in horror.
+
+Then he tried to anger her with abuse and calumny to such an extent that
+she would be driven to the deed by sheer rage. Failing in this, he resumed
+his wheedling tactics. It would be impossible, he argued, for any one to
+know that she had given him the soothing poison. The doctors would always
+believe that he had overcome his prejudice against self-destruction and
+had taken the tablets, just as they intended and evidently desired him to
+do. But he would not take his own life. He would go on suffering for years
+before he would send his soul to purgatory by such an act. He believed in
+damnation. He had lived an honourable, upright life and he maintained that
+his soul was entitled to the salvation his body had earned for it by its
+resistance to the evils of the flesh. What, said he, could be more
+incompatible with a lifelong observance of God's laws than the commission
+of an act for which there could be no forgiveness, what more terrible than
+going into the presence of his maker with sin as his guide and advocate?
+His last breath of life drawn in sin!
+
+Day after day he whispered his wily arguments, and always she fled in
+horror. Her every hour was a nightmare, sleeping or waking. Her strength
+was shattered, yet she was compelled to withstand his daily attacks. He
+never failed to send for her to sit with him while the nurse took her
+exercise. He would have no one else. Ultimately he sought to tempt her
+with offers of gold! He agreed to add a codicil to his will, giving her an
+additional million dollars if she would perform a "simple service" for
+him. That was the way he styled it: a simple service! Merely the dropping
+of four little tablets into a tumbler of water and holding it to his lips
+to drain! Suicide with a distinction, murder by obligation! One of his
+arguments was that she would be free to marry the man she loved if he was
+out of the way. He did not utter the name of the man, however.
+
+Anne spoke to no one of these shocking encounters in the darkened sick-
+room. She would not have spoken to Braden but for her husband's command
+given no later than the hour before that she should do so.
+
+"Twice, Braden, I was tempted to do what he asked of me," she said in
+conclusion, almost in a whisper. "He was in such fearful agony. You will
+never know how he has suffered. My heart ached for him. I cannot
+understand how a good and gentle God can inflict such pain upon one of his
+creatures. Why should this Christian be crucified? But I must not say such
+things. Twice I came near to putting those tablets in the glass and giving
+it to him to drink, but both times I shrank even as I took them up from
+the table. I shall never forget the look of joy that came into his eyes
+when he saw me pick them up, nor shall I ever forget the look he gave me
+when I threw them down and put my fingers to my ears to shut out the sound
+of his moans. It would have been so easy to end it all for him. No one
+could have known, and he would have died thanking me for one good deed at
+least. Yesterday when I failed him for the second time, he made the most
+horrible confession to me. He said that when he married me a year ago he
+knew that this very crisis would come and that he had counted on me then
+as his deliverer! He actually said to me, Braden, that all this was in his
+mind when he married me. Can't you understand? If the time ever came when
+he wanted to die, who would be more likely to serve his purpose than the
+young, avaricious wife who loved another man? Oh, he was not thinking of
+your good, my friend,—at least, not entirely. He did not want you to throw
+yourself away on me, that's true, but your preservation was not his sole
+object, let me assure you. He planned deeper than we knew. He looked ahead
+for one year and saw what was coming, and he counted on me,—he counted on
+the wife he had bought. Once he asked me if I had the faintest idea how
+many wives have killed strong and healthy husbands in order that they
+might wed the men they loved better. If murderesses can do that, said he,
+why should I hesitate, when there could be no such thing as murder in
+my—oh, it was too terrible! Thank God, he thinks better of me now than he
+did on the day he married me. Even though he is your grandfather, Braden,
+I can say to you frankly that if taking his own life means going to hell
+for him, I would see him in hell before I would—"
+
+"Anne, Anne!" cried he, shaken. "Don't say it! It is too horrible. Think
+of what you were about to say and—"
+
+"Oh, I've thought, my friend," she broke in fiercely. "It is time for you
+to think of what he would have done for me. He would have sent me to hell
+in his place. Do you understand? Do you suppose that if I had killed him,
+even with mercy and kindness in my heart, I could ever have escaped from a
+hell on earth, no matter what God's judgment may have been hereafter?
+Would heaven after death affect the hell that came before?"
+
+"Do you believe that there is life beyond the grave?" he demanded. "Do you
+still believe that there is a heaven and a hell?"
+
+"Yes," she said firmly, "and down in your soul, Braden, you believe it
+too. We all believe it, even the scientists who scoff. We can't help
+believing it. It is that which makes good men and women of us, which keeps
+us as children to the end. It isn't honour or nobility of character that
+makes us righteous, but the fear of God. It isn't death that we dread. We
+shrink from the answer to the question we've asked all through life. Can
+you answer that question now?"
+
+"Of course not," he said, "nor can I solve the riddle of life. That is the
+great mystery. Death is simple. We know why we die but we don't know why
+we live."
+
+"The same mystery that precedes life also follows it," she said
+stubbornly. "The greatest scientist in the world was once a lifeless atom.
+He acknowledges that, doesn't he? So, my friend, there is something even
+vaster than the greatest of all intelligences, and that is ignorance. But
+we are wasting time. I have told you everything. You know just what I've
+been through. I don't ask for your sympathy, for you would be quite right
+in refusing to give it me. I made my bed, so there's the end of it. I am
+glad that you are here. The situation is in your hands, not mine."
+
+"What is there for me to do except to sit down, like you, and wait?" he
+groaned, in desperation.
+
+She was silent for a long time, evidently weighing her next remark. "What
+have you to say for your pet theory now, Braden?" she inquired, haltingly.
+
+"You may rest assured, Anne, that even were it legally possible, I should
+not put it into practice in this instance," he said coldly.
+
+Her face brightened. "Do you really mean it?"
+
+"I wish you and all the rest of them would understand that I am not
+setting myself up as a butcher—" he began hotly.
+
+"That is all I want to know," she cried, tremulously. "I have been
+dreading the—I have found myself wondering if _you_ would give him those
+tablets. Look me straight in the eye, Braden. You will not do that, will
+you?"
+
+"Never!" he exclaimed.
+
+"You don't know what that means to me," she said in a low voice. Again
+there was a long silence. He was studying her face, and queer notions were
+entering his brain. "Another question, please, and that is all. Can his
+life be prolonged by an operation?"
+
+"I am assured that he could not survive an operation."
+
+"He may ask you to—to perform one," she said, watching him closely.
+
+He hesitated. "You mean that he is willing to take the chance?"
+
+"I mean that he realises it will make no difference, one way or the other.
+The other doctors have refused to operate."
+
+"He will not ask me to operate," said Braden, but his soul shook within
+him as he spoke.
+
+"We shall see," said she strangely, and then arose. She came quite close
+to him. "I do not want you to operate, Braden. Any one but you. You must
+not take the—the chance. Now you would better go up to him. Tell him you
+have talked with me. He will understand. He may even speak a good word for
+me. Good night. Thank you for—for letting me speak with you to-night."
+
+She left the room. He stood quite still for a full minute, staring at the
+closed door. Then he passed his hand over his eyes as if to shut out the
+vision that remained. He knew now that his grandfather was right.
+
+In the hall upstairs he found Wade.
+
+"Time you were in bed," said Braden shortly. "Get a little rest, man. I am
+here now. You needn't worry."
+
+"He's been asking for you, sir. The nurse has been out here twice within
+the last ten minutes. Excuse me, Mr. Braden; may I have another word with
+you?" He did not lower his voice. Wade's voice was of a peculiarly
+unpenetrating character. Unless one _observed_ his speech it was scarcely
+audible, and yet one had a queer impression, at a glance, that he was
+speaking a little above the ordinary tone of voice. "Did Mrs. Thorpe tell
+you that her brother has been here to see Mr. Thorpe three times within a
+week?"
+
+Braden started. "She did not, Wade."
+
+"Why didn't she tell you, sir?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Well, sir, it is just this way: Mr. Thorpe sent for young Mr. Tresslyn
+last Friday afternoon. Considerable difficulty was had in finding him. He
+was just a wee bit tipsy when he got here at eight o'clock. Mrs. Thorpe
+did not see him, although Murray went to her room to tell her of his
+arrival. Young Mr. Tresslyn was in Mr. Thorpe's room for ten or fifteen
+minutes, and then left the house in a great hurry, sir. He came again on
+Saturday evening, and acted very queerly. Both times he was alone with Mr.
+Thorpe. Again he fairly rushed out of the house as if he was pursued by
+devils. Then he came on Sunday night, and the same thing happened. As he
+was going out, I spoke to him, and this is what he said to me,—scared-like
+and shaking all over, sir,—'I'm not coming here again, Wade. No more of it
+for me. Damn him! You tell my sister that I'm not coming again!' Then he
+went out, mumbling to himself. Right after that I went up to Mr. Thorpe.
+He was very angry. He gave orders that Mr. Tresslyn was not to be admitted
+again. It was then, sir, that he spoke to me about the money in the
+envelope. I have had a notion, sir, that the money was first intended for
+Mr. George Tresslyn, but he didn't like that way of earning it any more
+than I did. Rather strange, too, when you stop to think how badly he needs
+money and how low he's been getting these past few months. Poor chap, he—"
+
+"Now, Wade, you are guessing," interrupted Braden, with a sinking heart.
+"You have no right to surmise—"
+
+"Beg pardon, sir; I was only putting two and two together. I'm sorry. I
+dare say I am entirely wrong, perhaps a little bit out of my head because
+of the—Please, sir, do not misunderstand me. I would not for the world
+have you think that I connect Mrs. Thorpe with the business. I am sure
+that she had nothing whatever to do with her brother's visits
+here,—nothing at all, sir."
+
+Braden's blood was like ice water as he turned away from the man and
+entered his grandfather's room. The nurse was reading to the old man. With
+the young man's entrance, Mr. Thorpe cut her off brusquely and told her to
+leave the room.
+
+"Come here, Braden," he said, after the door had closed behind the woman.
+"Have you talked with Anne?"
+
+"Yes, grandfather."
+
+"She told you everything?"
+
+"I suppose so. It is terrible. You should not have made such demands—"
+
+"We won't go into that," said the other harshly, gripping his side with
+his claw-like hand. His face was contorted by pain. After a moment, he
+went on: "She's better than I thought, and so is that good-for-nothing
+brother of hers. I shall never forgive this scoundrel Wade though. He has
+been my servant, my slave for more than thirty years, and I know that he
+hasn't a shred of a conscience. While I think of it, I wish you would take
+this key and unlock the top drawer in my dressing table. See if there is
+an envelope there, will you? There is, eh? Open it. Count the bills,
+Braden."
+
+He lay back, with tightly closed eyes, while Braden counted the package of
+five hundred dollar bank-notes.
+
+"There are fifty thousand dollars here, grandfather," said the young man
+huskily.
+
+"'Pon my soul, they are more honest than I imagined. Well, well, the world
+is getting better."
+
+"What shall I do with this money, sir? You shouldn't have it lying around
+loose with all these—"
+
+"You may deposit it to my account in the Fifth Avenue Bank to-morrow. It
+is of absolutely no use to me now. Put it in your pocket. It will be quite
+safe with you, I dare say. You are all so inexcusably honest, confound
+you. Sit down. I want to tell you what I've finally decided to do. These
+surgeons say there is about one chance in a million for me, my boy. I've
+decided to take it."
+
+"Take it?" muttered Braden, knowing full well what was to come.
+
+"I have given you the finest education, the finest training that any young
+man ever had, Braden. You owe a great deal to me, I think you will admit.
+Never mind now. Don't thank me. I would not trust my one chance to any of
+these disinterested butchers. They would not care a rap whether I pulled
+through or not. With you, it is different. I believe you would—"
+
+"My God, grandfather, you are not going to ask me to—"
+
+"Sit still! Yes, I am going to ask you to give me that one chance in a
+million. If you fail, I shall not be here to complain. If you
+succeed,—well, you will have performed a miracle. You—"
+
+"But there is no possible chance,—not the slightest chance of success,"
+cried Braden, the cold sweat running down his face. "I can tell you in
+advance that it means death to—"
+
+"Nevertheless, it is worth trying, isn't it, my boy?" said Templeton
+Thorpe softly. "I demand it of you. You are my flesh and blood. You will
+not let me lie here and suffer like this for weeks and months. It is your
+duty to do what you can. It is your time to be merciful, my lad."
+
+Braden's face was in his hands. His body was shaking as if in convulsions.
+He could not look into the old man's eyes.
+
+"Send for Bates and Bray to-morrow. Tell them that you have decided to
+operate,—with my consent. They will understand. It must be done at once.
+You will not fail me. You will do this for your poor old granddaddy who
+has loved you well and who suffers to-day as no man in all this world has
+ever suffered before. I am in agony. Nothing stops the pain. Everything
+has failed. You _will_ do this for me, Braden?"
+
+The young man raised his haggard face. Infinite pity had succeeded horror
+in his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Simmy Dodge emerged from Sherry's at nine-thirty. He was leaving Mrs.
+Fenwick's dinner-dance in response to an appeal from Anne Thorpe, who had
+sent for him by messenger earlier in the evening. Simmy was reluctant
+about going down to the house off Washington Square; he was constituted as
+one of those who shrink from the unwholesomeness of death rather than from
+its terrors. He was fond of Anne, but in his soul he was abusing her for
+summoning him to bear witness to the final translation of old Templeton
+Thorpe from a warm, sensitive body, into a cold, unpleasant hulk. He had
+no doubt that he had been sent for to see the old man die. While he would
+not, for the world, have denied Anne in her hour of distress, he could not
+help wishing that she had put the thing off till to-morrow. Death doesn't
+appear so ugly in the daytime. One is spared the feeling that it is
+stealing up through the darkness of night to lay claim to its prey.
+
+Simmy shivered a little as he stood in front of Sherry's waiting for his
+car to come up. He made up his mind then and there that when it came time
+for him to die he would see to it that he did not do it in the night. For,
+despite the gay lights of the city, there were always sombre shadows for
+one to be jerked into by the relentless hand of death; there was something
+appalling about being dragged off into a darkness that was to be
+dissipated at sunrise, instead of lasting forever.
+
+He left behind him in one of the big private diningrooms a brilliant,
+high-spirited company of revellers. One of Mrs. Fenwick's guests was Lutie
+Tresslyn. He sat opposite her at one of the big round tables, and for an
+hour he had watched with moody eyes her charming, vivacious face as she
+conversed with the men on either side of her. She was as cool, as self-
+contained as any woman at the table. There was nothing to indicate that
+she had not been born to this estate of velvet, unless the freshness of
+her cheek and the brightness of her eye betrayed her by contrast with the
+unmistakable haggardness of "the real thing."
+
+She was unafraid. All at once Simmy was proud of her. He felt the thrill
+of something he could not on the moment define, but which he afterwards
+put down as patriotism! It was just the sort of thrill, he argued, that
+you have when the band plays at West Point and you see the cadets come
+marching toward you with their heads up and their chests out,—the thrill
+that leaves a smothering, unuttered cheer in your throat.
+
+He thought of Anne Tresslyn too, and smiled to himself. This was Anne
+Tresslyn's set, not Lutie's, and yet here she was, a trim little warrior,
+inside the walls of a fortified place, hobnobbing with the formidable army
+of occupation and staring holes through the uniforms of the General Staff!
+She sat in the Tresslyn camp, and there were no other Tresslyns there. She
+sat with the Wintermills, and—yes, he had to admit it,—she had winked at
+him slyly when she caught his eye early in the evening. It was a very
+small wink to be sure and was not repeated.
+
+The night was cold. His chauffeur was not to be found by the door-men who
+ran up and down the line from Fifth to Sixth Avenue for ten minutes before
+Simmy remembered that he had told the man not to come for him until three
+in the morning, an hour at which one might reasonably expect a dance to
+show signs of abating.
+
+He was on the point of ordering a taxi-cab when his attention was drawn to
+a figure that lurked well back in the shadows of the Berkeley Theatre down
+the street—a tall figure in a long ulster. Despite the darkness, Simmy's
+intense stare convinced him that it was George Tresslyn who stood over
+there and gazed from beneath lowered brows at the bright doorway. He
+experienced a chill that was not due to the raw west wind. There was
+something sinister about that big, motionless figure, something portentous
+of disaster. He knew that George had been going down the hill with
+startling rapidity. On more than one occasion he had tried to stay this
+downward rush, but without avail. Young Tresslyn was drinking, but he was
+not carousing. He drank as unhappy men drink, not as the happy ones do. He
+drank alone.
+
+For a few minutes Simmy watched this dark sentinel, and reflected. What
+was he doing over there? What was he up to? Was he waiting for Lutie to
+come forth from the fortified place? Was there murder and self-murder in
+the heart of this unhappy boy? Simmy was a little man but he was no
+coward. He did not hesitate long. He would have to act, and act promptly.
+He did not dare go away while that menacing figure remained on guard. The
+police, no doubt, would drive him away in time, but he would come back
+again. So Simmy Dodge squared his shoulders and marched across the street,
+to face what might turn out to be a ruthless lunatic—the kind one reads
+about, who kill their best friends, "and all that sort of thing."
+
+It was quite apparent that the watcher had been observing him. As Simmy
+came briskly across the street, Tresslyn moved out of his position near
+the awning and started westward, his shoulders hunched upward and his chin
+lowered with the evident desire to prevent recognition. Simmy called out
+to him. The other quickened his steps. He slouched but did not stagger, a
+circumstance which caused Simmy a sharp twinge of uneasiness. He was not
+intoxicated. Simmy's good sense told him that he would be more dangerous
+sober than drunk, but he did not falter. At the second shout, young
+Tresslyn stopped. His hands were thrust deep into his overcoat pockets.
+
+"What do you want?" he demanded thickly, as the dapper little man came up
+and extended his hand. Simmy was beaming, as if he suddenly had found a
+long lost friend and comrade. George took no notice of the friendly hand.
+He was staring hard, almost savagely at the other's face. Simmy was
+surprised to find that his cheeks, though sunken and haggard, were cleanly
+shaved, and his general appearance far from unprepossessing. In the light
+from a near-by window, the face was lowering but not inflamed; the eyes
+were heavy and tired-looking—but not bloodshot.
+
+"I thought I recognised you," said Simmy glibly.
+
+"Much obliged," said George, without the semblance of a smile.
+
+Simmy hesitated. Then he laid his hand on George's arm. "See here, George,
+this will not do. I think I know why you are here, and—it won't do, old
+chap."
+
+"If you were anybody else, Dodge, I'd beat your head off," said George
+slowly, as if amazed that he had not already done so. "Better go away,
+Simmy, and let me alone. I'm all right. I'm not doing any harm, am I,
+standing out here?"
+
+"What do you gain by standing here in the cold and—"
+
+"Never mind what I gain. That's my affair," said George, his voice shaking
+in spite of its forced gruffness.
+
+Simmy was undaunted. "Have you been drinking to-night?"
+
+"None of your damned business. What do you mean by—"
+
+"I am your friend, George," broke in Simmy earnestly. "I can see now that
+you've had a drink or two, and you—"
+
+"I'm as sober as you are!"
+
+"More so, I fear. I've had champagne. You—"
+
+"I am not drunk all of the time, you know," snarled George.
+
+"Well, I'm glad to hear it," said Simmy cheerfully.
+
+"I hate the stuff,—hate it worse than anything on earth except being
+sober. Good night, Simmy," he broke off abruptly.
+
+"That dance in there won't be over before three o'clock," said Simmy
+shrewdly. "You're in for a long wait, my lad."
+
+George groaned. "Good Lord, is it—is it a dance? The papers said it was a
+dinner for Lord and Lady—"
+
+"Better come along with me, George," interrupted Simmy quietly. "I'm going
+down to Anne's. She has sent for me. It's the end, I fancy. That's where
+you ought to be to-night, Tresslyn. She needs you. Come—"
+
+Young Tresslyn drew back, a look of horror in his eyes. "Not if I know
+myself," he muttered. "You'll never get me inside that house again.
+Why,—why, it's more than I could stand, Simmy. That old man tried—but,
+never mind. I can't talk about it. There's one thing sure, though: I
+wouldn't go near him again for all the money in New York,—not I."
+
+"I sha'n't insist, of course. But I do insist on your getting away from
+here. You are not to annoy Lutie. She's had trouble enough and you ought
+to be man enough to let her alone."
+
+George stared at him as if he had not heard aright. "Annoy her? What the
+devil are you talking about?"
+
+"You know what I'm talking about. Oh, don't glare at me like that. I'm not
+afraid of you, big as you are. I'm trying to put sense into your head,
+that's all, and you'll thank me for it later on, too."
+
+"Why, I—I wouldn't annoy her for all the world, Simmy," said George,
+jerkily. "What do you take me for? What kind of a—"
+
+"Then, why are you here?" demanded Simmy "It looks bad, George. If it
+isn't Lutie, who is it you're after?"
+
+The other appeared to be dazed. "I'm not after any one," he mumbled.
+Suddenly he gripped Simmy by the shoulders and bent a white, scowling face
+down to the little man's level. "My God, Simmy, I—I can't help it. That's
+all there is to it. I just want to see her—just want to look at her. Can't
+you understand? But of course you can't. You couldn't know what it means
+to love a girl as I love her. It isn't in you. Annoy her? I'd cut my heart
+out first. What business is it of yours if I choose to stand out here all
+night just for a glimpse of her in all her happiness, all her triumph, all
+that she's got because she deserves it? Oh, I'm sober enough, so don't
+think it's that. Now, you let me alone. Get out of this, Simmy. I know
+what I'm doing and I don't want any advice from you. She won't know I'm
+over here when she comes out of that place, and what she doesn't know
+isn't going to bother her. She doesn't know that I sneak around like this
+to get a look at her whenever it's possible, and I don't want her to know
+it. It would worry her. It might—frighten her, Simmy, and God knows I
+wouldn't harm her by word or deed for anything on earth. Only she wouldn't
+understand. D'you see?" He shook Simmy as a dog would have shaken a rat,
+not in anger but to emphasise his seriousness.
+
+"By Jove, George,—I'd like to believe that of you," chattered Simmy.
+
+"Well, you can believe it. I'm not ashamed to confess what I'm doing. You
+may call me a baby, a fool, a crank or whatever you like,—I don't care.
+I've just got to see her, and this is the only way. Do you think I'd spoil
+things for her, now that she's made good? Think I'd butt in and queer it
+all? I'm no good, I'm a rotter, and I'm going to the devil as fast as I
+know how, Simmy. That's my affair, too. But I'm not mean enough to
+begrudge her the happiness she's found in spite of all us damned
+Tresslyns. Now, run along, Simmy, and don't worry about anything happening
+to her,—at least, so far as I'm concerned. She'll probably have her work
+cut out defending herself against some of her fine gentlemen, some of the
+respectable rotters in there. But she'll manage all right. She's the right
+sort, and she's had her lesson already. She won't be fooled again."
+
+Simmy's amazement had given way to concern. "Upon my word, George, I'm
+sorry for you. I had no idea that you felt as you do. It's too darned bad.
+I wish it could have been different with you two."
+
+"It could have been, as I've said before, if I'd had the back-bone of a
+caterpillar."
+
+"If you still love her as deeply as all this, why—"
+
+"Love her? Why, if she were to come out here this instant and smile on me,
+Simmy, I'd—I'd—God, I don't know what I'd do!" He drooped his head
+dejectedly, and Simmy saw that he was shaking.
+
+"It's too bad," said Simmy again, blinking. For a long time the two of
+them stood there, side by side, looking at the bright doorway across the
+street. Simmy was thinking hard. "See here, old fellow," he said at last,
+profoundly moved, "why don't you buck up and try to make something of
+yourself? It isn't too late. Do something that will make her proud of you.
+Do—"
+
+"Proud of me, eh?" sneered George. "The only thing I could do would be to
+jump into the river with my hands tied. She'd be proud of me for that."
+
+"Nonsense. Now listen to me. You don't want her to know that you've been
+put in jail, do you?"
+
+"What am I doing that would get me into jail?"
+
+"Loitering. Loafing suspiciously. Drinking. A lot of things, my boy.
+They'll nab you if you hang around here till three o'clock. You saw her go
+in, didn't you?"
+
+"Yes. She—she happened to turn her face this way when she got to the top
+of the steps. Saying something to the people she was with. God, I—she's
+the loveliest thing in—" He stopped short, and put his hand to his eyes.
+
+Simmy's grip tightened on George's arm, and then for five minutes he
+argued almost desperately with the younger man. In the end, Tresslyn
+agreed to go home. He would not go to Anne's.
+
+"And you'll not touch another drop to-night?" said Dodge, as they crossed
+over to the line of taxi-cabs.
+
+George halted. "Say, what's on your mind, Simmy? Are you afraid I'll go
+off my nut and create a scene,—perhaps mop up the sidewalk with some one
+like Percy Wintermill or—well, any one of those nuts in there? That the
+idea you've got? Well, let me set you right, my boy. If I ever do anything
+like that it will not be with Lutie as the excuse. I'll not drag her name
+into it. Mind you, I'm not saying I'll never smash some one's head, but—"
+
+"I didn't mean that, at all," said Simmy.
+
+"And you needn't preach temperance to me," went on George. "I know that
+liquor isn't good for me. I hate the stuff, as a matter of fact. I know
+what it does to a man who has been an athlete. It gets him quicker than it
+gets any one else. But the liquor makes me forget that I'm no good. It
+makes me think I'm the biggest, bravest and best man in the world, and God
+knows I'm not. When I get enough of the stuff inside of me, I imagine that
+I'm good enough for Lutie. It's the only joy I have, this thinking that
+I'm as decent as anybody, and the only time I think I'm decent is when I'm
+so damned drunk that I don't know anything at all. Tell him to take me to
+Meikelham's hotel. Good night. You're all right, Simmy."
+
+"To Meikelham's? I want you to go home, George."
+
+"Well, that's home for me at present. Rotten place, believe me, but it's
+the best I can get for a dollar a day," grated George.
+
+"I thought you were living with your mother?"
+
+"No. Kicked out. That was six weeks ago. Couldn't stand seeing me around.
+I don't blame her, either. But that's none of your business, Simmy, so
+don't say another word."
+
+"It's pretty rough, that's all."
+
+"On me—or her?"
+
+"Both of you," said Simmy sharply. "I say, come over and see me to-morrow
+afternoon, George,—at three o'clock. Sober, if you don't mind. I've got
+something to say to you—"
+
+"No use, Simmy," sighed George.
+
+"You are fond of Anne, aren't you?"
+
+"Certainly. What's that got to do with it?"
+
+"She may need you soon. You must be ready, that's all. See what I mean?"
+
+"Moral support, eh?" scoffed George.
+
+"You are her brother."
+
+"Right you are," said the other soberly. "I'll be on hand, Simmy, if I'm
+needed. Tell Anne, will you? I'll stick it out for a few days if it will
+help her."
+
+"There is a lot of good in you, George," said Simmy, engagingly. "I don't
+mind telling you that Lutie says the same thing about you. She has said to
+me more than once that—"
+
+"Oh, don't lie to me!" snarled young Tresslyn, but Simmy did not fail to
+note the quickening of interest in his sullen eyes.
+
+"More than once," he went on, following up the advantage, "she has
+expressed the opinion that with half a chance you would have been more
+than half a man."
+
+"'Gad," said George, wonderingly, "I—I can almost believe you now. That's
+just the way she would have put it. God knows, Simmy, you are not smart
+enough to have said it out of your own head. She really thinks that, does
+she?"
+
+"We'll talk it over to-morrow," said the other, quite well pleased with
+himself. Young Tresslyn was breathing heavily, as if his great lungs had
+expanded beyond their normal capacity. "Move along now."
+
+"If I thought—" began George, but Simmy had slammed the door and was
+directing the chauffeur where to take his fare.
+
+Half an hour later, Mrs. Fenwick's tables were deserted and the dance was
+on. Simmy Dodge, awaiting the moment of dispersion, lost no time in
+seeking Lutie. He had delayed his departure for Anne's home, and had been
+chafing through a long half-hour in the lounge downstairs. She was dancing
+with Percy Wintermill.
+
+"Hello, Dodge," said that young man, halting abruptly and somewhat
+aggressively when Simmy, without apology, clutched his arm as they swung
+by; "thought you'd gone. What d'you come back for?"
+
+"I haven't gone, so I couldn't come back," answered Simmy easily. "I want
+a word or two with Mrs. Tresslyn, old boy, so beat it."
+
+"Oh, I say, you've got a lot of cheek—"
+
+"Come along, Mrs. Tresslyn; don't mind Percy. _This_ is important." With
+Lutie at his side, he made his way through the crowd about the door and
+led her, wondering and not a little disturbed, into one of the ante-rooms,
+where he found a couple of chairs.
+
+She listened to his account of the meeting with her former husband, her
+eyes fixed steadily on his homely little face. There was alarm at first in
+those merry eyes of hers, but his first words were reassuring. He
+convinced her that George was not bent on any act of violence, nor did he
+intend to annoy or distress her by a public encounter.
+
+"As a matter of fact," he said, "he's gone off to bed, and I am quite
+certain that he will not change his mind. I waited here to tell you about
+him, Lutie, because I felt you ought to be prepared in case he does come
+back and you happen to see him skulking around in—"
+
+"This isn't news to me, Simmy," she said seriously. "A half dozen times in
+the past two weeks I have caught sight of him, always in some convenient
+spot where he could watch me without much prospect of being seen. He seems
+to possess an uncanny knowledge of my comings and goings. I never see him
+in the daytime. I felt sure that he would be outside this place to-night,
+so when I came in I made it a point to look up and down the
+street,—casually, of course. There was a man across the street. I couldn't
+be sure, but I thought it was George. It has been getting on my nerves,
+Simmy." Her hand shook slightly, but what he had taken for alarm was gone
+from her eyes. Instead they were shining brightly, and her lips remained
+parted after she had finished speaking.
+
+"Needn't have any fear of him," said he. "George is a gentleman. He still
+worships you, Lutie,—poor devil. He'll probably drink himself to death
+because of it, too. Of course you know that he is completely down and out?
+Little more than a common bum and street loafer."
+
+"He—he doesn't like whiskey," said she, after a moment.
+
+"One doesn't have to like it to drink it, you know."
+
+"He could stop it if he tried."
+
+"Like a flash. But he isn't going to try. At least, not until he feels
+that it's worth while."
+
+She looked up quickly. "What do you mean by that?" Without waiting for him
+to answer, she went on: "How can you expect me to do anything to help him?
+I am sorry for him, but—but, heavens and earth, Simmy, I can't preach
+temperance to a man who kicked me out of his house when he was sober, can
+I?"
+
+"You loved him, didn't you?"
+
+She flushed deeply. "I—I—oh, certainly."
+
+"Never have quite got over loving him, as a matter of fact," said he,
+watching her closely.
+
+She drew a long breath. "You're right, Simmy. I've never ceased to care
+for him. That's what makes it so hard for me to see him going to the dogs,
+as you say."
+
+"I said 'going to the devil,'" corrected Simmy resolutely.
+
+She laid her hand upon his arm. Her face was white now and her eyes were
+dark with pain.
+
+"I shiver when I think of him, Simmy, but not with dread or revulsion. I
+am always thinking of the days when he held me tight in those big, strong
+arms of his,—and that's what makes me shiver. I adored being in his arms.
+I shall never forget. People said that he would never amount to anything.
+They said that he was too strong to work and all that sort of thing. He
+didn't think much of himself, but I _know_ he would have come through all
+right. He is the best of his breed, I can tell you that. Think how young
+he was when we were married! Little more than a boy. He has never had a
+chance to be a man. He is still a boy, puzzled and unhappy because he
+can't think of himself as anything but twenty,—the year when everything
+stopped for him. He's twenty-five now, but he doesn't know it. He is still
+living in his twenty-first year."
+
+"I've never thought of it in that light," said Simmy, considerably
+impressed. "I say, Lutie, if you care so much for him, why not—" He
+stopped in some confusion. Clearly he had been on the point of trespassing
+on dangerous ground. He wiped his forehead.
+
+"I can finish it for you, Simmy, by answering the question," she said,
+with a queer little smile. "I want to help him,—oh, you don't know how my
+heart aches for him!—but what can I do? I am his wife in the sight of God,
+but that is as far as it goes. The law says that I am a free woman and
+George a free man. But don't you see how it is? The law cannot say that we
+shall not love each other. Now can it? It can only say that we are free to
+love some one else if we feel so inclined without being the least bit
+troubled by our marriage vows. But George and I are still married to each
+other, and we are still thinking of our marriage vows. The simple fact
+that we love each other proves a whole lot, now doesn't it, Simmy? We are
+divorced right enough,—South Dakota says so,—but we refuse to think of
+ourselves as anything but husband and wife, lover and sweetheart. Down in
+our hearts we loved each other more on the day the divorce was granted
+than ever before, and we've never stopped loving. I have not spoken a word
+to George in nearly three years—but I know that he has loved me every
+minute of the time. Naturally he does not think that I love him. He thinks
+that I despise him. But I don't despise him, Simmy. If he had followed his
+teachings he would now be married to some one else—some one of his
+mother's choosing—and I should be loathing him instead of feeling sorry
+for him. That would have convinced me that he was the rotter the world
+said he was when he turned against me. I tell you, Simmy, it is gratifying
+to know that the man you love is drinking himself to death because he's
+true to you."
+
+"That's an extraordinary thing to say," said Simmy, squinting. "You are
+happy because that poor devil is—"
+
+"Now don't say that!" she cried. "I didn't say I was happy. I said I was
+gratified—because he is true to me in spite of everything. I suppose it's
+more than you can grasp, Simmy,—you dear old simpleton." Her eyes were
+shining very brightly, and her cheeks were warm and rosy. "You see, it's
+my husband who is being true to me. Every wife likes to have that thing
+proved to her."
+
+"Quixotic," said Simmy. "He isn't your husband, my dear."
+
+"Oh, yes, he is," said Lutie earnestly. "Just as much as he ever was."
+
+"The law says he is not."
+
+"What are you trying to get me to say?"
+
+"I may as well come to the point. Would you marry him again if he were to
+come to you,—now?"
+
+"Do you mean, would I live with him again?"
+
+"You couldn't do that without marrying him, you know."
+
+"I am already married to him in the sight of God," said she, stubbornly.
+
+"Good Lord! Would you go back to him without a ceremony of—"
+
+"If I made up my mind to live with him, yes."
+
+"Oh, I see. And may I inquire just what your state of mind would be if he
+came to you to-morrow?"
+
+"You have got me cornered, Simmy," she said, her lip trembling. There was
+a hunted look in her eyes. "I—I don't know what I should do. I want him,
+Simmy,—I want my man, my husband, but to be perfectly honest with you, I
+don't believe he has sunk low enough yet for me to claim the complete
+victory I desire."
+
+"Victory?" gasped Simmy. "Do you want to pick him out of the gutter? Is
+that your idea of triumph over the Tresslyns? Are you—"
+
+"When the time comes, Simmy," said she cryptically, "I will hold out my
+hand to him, and then we'll have a _real_ man before you can say Jack
+Robinson. He will come up like a cork, and he'll be so happy that he'll
+stay up forever."
+
+"Don't be too sure of that. I've seen better men than George stay down
+forever."
+
+"Yes, but George doesn't want to stay down. He wants me. That's all he
+wants in this world."
+
+"Do you imagine that he will come to you, crawling on his knees, to plead
+for forgiveness or—"
+
+"By no means! He'd never sink so low as that. That's why I tell you that
+he is a man, a real man. There isn't one in a thousand who wouldn't be
+begging, and whining, and even threatening the woman if he were in
+George's position. That's why I'm so sure."
+
+"What do you expect?"
+
+"When his face grows a little thinner, and the Tresslyn in him is drowned,
+I expect to ask him to come and see me," she said slowly.
+
+"Good Lord!" muttered Simmy.
+
+She sprang to her feet, her face glowing. "And I don't believe I can stand
+seeing it grow much thinner," she cried. "He looks starved, Simmy. I can't
+put it off much longer. Now I must go back. Thank you for the warning. You
+don't understand him, but—thank you, just the same. I never miss seeing
+him when he thinks he is perfectly invisible. You see, Simmy, I too have
+eyes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+The next afternoon but one Templeton Thorpe was on the operating table. In
+a private sitting-room on the third floor of the great hospital, three
+people sat waiting for the result—two women and a man. They were the
+Tresslyns, mother, son and daughter. There were unopened boxes of flowers
+on the table in the middle of the room. The senders of these flowers were
+men, and their cards were inside the covers, damp with the waters of
+preservation. They were for Anne Thorpe, and they were from men who looked
+ahead even as she had looked ahead. But the roses and orchids they sent
+were never to be seen by Anne Thorpe. They were left in the boxes with
+their little white envelopes attached, for Anne was not thinking of roses
+as she sat there by the window, looking down into the street, waiting for
+the word from upstairs,—the inevitable word. Later on the free wards would
+be filled with the fragrance of American Beauties, and certain smug
+gentlemen would never be thanked. No one had sent flowers to Templeton
+Thorpe, the sick man.
+
+There had been a brief conference on the day before between Anne and
+Braden. The latter went to her with the word that he was to operate,
+provided she offered no objection.
+
+"You know what an operation will mean, Anne," he said steadily.
+
+"The end to his agony," she remarked. Outwardly she was calm, inwardly she
+shivered.
+
+"It is absurd to say that he has one chance in a million to pull through.
+He hasn't a single chance. I appreciate that fact and—so does he."
+
+"You are willing to do this thing, Braden?"
+
+"I am willing," he said. His face was like death.
+
+"And if I should object, what then?" she asked, almost inaudibly.
+
+"I should refuse to operate. I cannot pretend that an operation is the
+only means left to save his life. It is just the other way round. We are
+supposed to take extreme measures in extreme cases, but always with the
+idea of prolonging human life. In this instance, I am bound to tell you,
+that I don't believe there is a chance to save him. We must look the
+matter squarely in the face."
+
+"You said that there was absolutely no chance." She leaned heavily against
+the table.
+
+"I believe there is no chance, but I am not all-seeing, Anne. We never
+know,—absolutely. Miracles happen. They are not performed by man,
+however."
+
+"Have you spoken to Dr. Bates?"
+
+"Yes. He is coming to the hospital, to—to be with me."
+
+"He will not attempt to prevent the operation?"
+
+"No. He does not advise or sanction it, but he—understands."
+
+"And you will be held responsible for everything?"
+
+"I suppose so," said he bitterly.
+
+She was silent for a long time. "I think I shall object to the operation,
+Braden," she said at last.
+
+"For my sake and not for his, I take it," he said.
+
+"I may as well give him the tablets myself, as to consent to your method
+of—of—" She could not finish the sentence.
+
+"It isn't quite the same," he said. "I act with the authority of the law
+behind me. You would be violating the law."
+
+"Still you would be killing a fellow creature," she protested. "I—I cannot
+allow you to sacrifice yourself, Braden."
+
+"You forget that I have no false notions as to the question of right and
+wrong in cases of this kind. I assure you that if I undertake this
+operation it will be with a single purpose in mind: to save and prolong
+the life of my patient. The worst you can say of me is that I am convinced
+beforehand that I shall fail. If I were to act upon the principles I
+advocate, I should not feel obliged to go through the travesty of an
+operation. The time may come when cases of this sort will be laid before a
+commission, and if in their judgment it is deemed humane to do so, a drug
+will be administered and the horrors that are likely to attend my efforts
+of to-morrow will be impossible. There is no such law to sustain me now,
+no commission, no decision by experts and familiars to back me up, so I
+can only obey the commands of the patient himself,—and do the best I can
+for him. He insists on having the operation performed—and by me. I am one
+of the family. I am his only blood relative. It is meet and just, says he,
+that I should be the one, and not some disinterested, callous outsider.
+That is the way he puts it, and I have not denied him."
+
+"It is horrible," she moaned, shuddering. "Why do you ask me to consent?
+Why do you put it up to me?"
+
+"You now place me in the position of the surgeon who advises a prompt—I
+mean, who says that an operation is imperative."
+
+"But that isn't the truth. You do not advise it."
+
+He drew a long breath. "Yes, I do advise it. There is no other way. I
+shall try to save him. I _do_ advise it."
+
+She left him and went over to the fireplace, where she stood with her back
+toward him for many minutes, staring into the coals. He did not change his
+position. He did not even look at her. His eyes were fixed on the rug near
+the closed door. There was a warm, soft red in that rare old carpet.
+Finally she turned to him.
+
+"I shall not let you take all of the responsibility, Braden," she said.
+"It isn't fair. I shall not oppose you. You have my consent to go on with
+it."
+
+"I assume all responsibility," he said, abruptly, almost gruffly.
+
+"You are wrong there, Braden," she said, slowly. "My husband assumes the
+responsibility. It is his act, not yours. I shall always regard it in that
+light, no matter what may happen. It is his command."
+
+He tried to smile. "Perhaps that is the right way to look at it," he said,
+"but it is a poor way, after all." For a full minute they stood looking
+into each other's eyes. "Then I shall go ahead with the—arrangements," he
+said, compressing his lips.
+
+She nodded her head.
+
+"Before I go any farther, Anne, I want to tell you what happened this
+morning when his lawyer was here. I sent for him. There is a clause in my
+grandfather's will bequeathing to me the sum of one hundred thousand
+dollars. I insisted that a codicil be added to the instrument, revoking
+that clause. My grandfather was obstinate at first. Finally he agreed to
+discuss the matter privately with Judge Hollenback. A couple of hours ago
+Wade and Murray witnessed the codicil which deprives me of any interest in
+my grandfather's estate. I renounce everything. There will be no contest
+on my part. Not a penny is to come to me."
+
+She stared at him. "You refuse to take what rightfully belongs to you? Now
+that _is_ quixotic, Braden. You shall not—"
+
+"The matter is closed, Anne. We need not discuss it," he said firmly. "I
+had to tell you, that's all. The reason should be obvious. You know, of
+course, that the bulk of his estate, apart from the amount to be paid to
+you—" She winced perceptibly—"aside from that amount is to go to various
+charities and institutions devoted to the betterment of the human race. I
+need not add that these institutions are of a scientific character. I
+wanted you to know beforehand that I shall profit in no way by the death
+of my grandfather." After a significant pause he repeated distinctly: "I
+shall profit _in no way_."
+
+She lowered her eyes for an instant. "I think I understand, Braden," she
+said, looking up to meet his gaze unwaveringly. Her voice was low, even
+husky. She saw finality in his eyes.
+
+"He seemed to feel that I ought to know of the clause I mention,"
+explained Braden dully. "Perhaps he thought it would—it might be an
+inducement to me to—to go ahead. God! What a thought!"
+
+"He allowed you to read it?"
+
+"A copy, last night. The real instrument was produced to-day by Judge
+Hollenback at my request, and the change was made in the presence of
+witnesses."
+
+"Where is it now?"
+
+"Judge Hollenback took it away with him. That's all I know about it."
+
+"I am sorry," she said, a queer glint in her eyes. "Sorry he took it away
+with him, I mean. There is nothing I can do—now."
+
+She sent for her mother that night. The next morning Simmy Dodge came down
+with George Tresslyn, who steadfastly refused to enter the house but rode
+to the hospital with his mother and sister in Simmy's automobile. Anne did
+not see Braden again after that momentous interview in the library. He had
+effaced himself.
+
+Now she sat in the window looking down into the street, dull and listless
+and filled with the dread of the future that had once looked so engaging
+to her. The picture that avarice and greed had painted was gone. In its
+place was an honest bit of colour on the canvas,—a drab colour and
+noteless.
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn, unmoved and apparently disinterested, ran idly through the
+pages of an illustrated periodical. Her furs lay across a chair in the
+corner of the room. They were of chinchilla and expressed a certain
+arrogance that could not be detached by space from the stately figure with
+the lorgnon. The year had done little toward bending that proud head. The
+cold, classic beauty of this youngish mother of the other occupants of the
+room was as yet absolutely unmarred by the worries that come with
+disillusionment. If she felt rebellious scorn for the tall disappointment
+who still bore and always would bear the honoured name of Tresslyn she
+gave no sign: if the slightest resentment existed in her soul toward the
+daughter who was no longer as wax in her hands, she hid the fact securely
+behind a splendid mask of unconcern. As for the old man upstairs she had
+but a single thought: an insistent one it was, however, and based itself
+upon her own dread of the thing that was killing him.
+
+George Tresslyn, white-faced and awed, sat like a graven image, looking at
+the floor. He was not there because he wanted to be, but because a rather
+praiseworthy allegiance to Anne had mastered his repugnance. Somewhere in
+his benumbed intelligence flickered a spark of light which revealed to him
+his responsibility as the head of the family. Anne was his sister. She was
+lovely. He would have liked to be proud of her. If it were not for the
+millions of that old man upstairs he could have been proud of her, and by
+an odd reasoning, even more ashamed of himself than he was now. He was not
+thinking of the Thorpe millions, however, as he sat there brooding; he was
+not wondering what Anne would do for him when she had her pay in hand. He
+was dumbly praising himself for having refused to sell his soul to
+Templeton Thorpe in exchange for the fifty thousand dollars with which the
+old man had baited him on three separate occasions, and wishing that Lutie
+could know. It was something that she would have to approve of in him! It
+was rather pitiful that he should have found a grain of comfort in the
+fact that he had refused to kill a fellow man!
+
+Anne took several turns up and down the room. There was a fine line
+between her dark, brooding eyes, and her nostrils were distended as if
+breathing had become difficult for her.
+
+"I told him once that if such a thing ever happened to me, I'd put an end
+to myself just as soon as I knew," she said, addressing no one, but
+speaking with a distinctness that was startling. "I told him that one
+would be justified in taking one's life under such circumstances. Why
+should one go on suffering—"
+
+"What are you saying, Anne?" broke in her mother sharply. George looked
+up, astonishment struggling to make its way through the dull cloud on his
+face.
+
+Anne stopped short. For a moment she appeared to be dazed. She went paler
+than before, and swayed. Her brother started up from his chair, alarmed.
+
+"I say, Anne old girl, get hold of yourself!" he exclaimed. "None of that,
+you know. You mustn't go fainting or anything like that. Walk around with
+me for a couple of minutes. You'll be all right in—"
+
+"Oh, I'm not going to faint," she cried, but grasped his arm just the
+same.
+
+"They always walked us around on the football field when we got woozy—"
+
+"Go out and see if you can find out anything, George," said she, pulling
+herself together. "Surely it must be over by this time."
+
+"Simmy's on the lookout," said George. "He'll let us know."
+
+"Be patient, my dear," said Mrs. Tresslyn, wiping a fine moisture from her
+upper lip, where it had appeared with Anne's astounding observation. "You
+will not have to wait much longer. Be—"
+
+Anne faced her, an unmistakable sneer on her lips. "I'm used to waiting,"
+she said huskily.
+
+"She has waited a year and more," said George aggressively, glowering at
+his mother. It was a significant but singularly unhappy remark.
+
+For the first time in their lives, they saw their mother in tears. It was
+so incomprehensible that at first both Anne and her brother laughed, not
+in mirth, but because they were so stupefied that they did not know what
+they were doing, and laughter was the simplest means of expressing an
+acute sense of embarrassment. Then they stood aloof and watched the
+amazing exposition, fascinated, unbelieving. It did not occur to either of
+them to go to the side of this sobbing woman whose eyes had always been
+dry and cold, this mother who had wiped away their tears a hundred times
+and more with dainty lace handkerchiefs not unlike the one she now pressed
+so tightly to her own wet cheeks. They could not understand this thing
+happening to her. They could not believe that after all their mother
+possessed the power to shed tears, to sob as other women do, to choke and
+snivel softly, to blubber inelegantly; they had always looked upon her as
+proof against emotion. Their mother was crying! Her back was toward them,
+evidence of a new weakness in her armour. It shook with the effort she
+made to control the cowardly spasmodic sobs. And why was she in tears?
+What had brought this amazing thing to pass? What right had she to cry?
+
+They watched her stupidly as she walked away from them toward the window.
+They were not unfeeling; they simply did not know how to act in the face
+of this marvel. They looked at each other in bewilderment. What had
+happened? Only the moment before she had been as cold and as magnificently
+composed as ever she had been, and now! Now she was like other people. She
+had come down to the level of the utterly commonplace. She was just a
+plain, ordinary woman. It was unbelievable.
+
+They did not feel sorry for her. A second time, no doubt, would find them
+humanly sympathetic, troubled, distressed, but this first time they could
+only wonder, they could only doubt their senses. It would have been most
+offensive in them to have let her see they noticed anything unusual in her
+behaviour. At least that is the way they felt about it in their failure to
+understand.
+
+For five minutes Mrs. Tresslyn stood with her back to them. Gradually the
+illy-stifled sobs subsided and, as they still looked on curiously, the
+convulsive heaving of her shoulders grew less perceptible, finally ceasing
+altogether. Her tall figure straightened to its full, regal height; her
+chin went up to its normal position; her wet handkerchief was stuffed,
+with dignified deliberateness, into the gold mesh bag. A minute more to
+prove that she had completely mastered her emotions, and then she faced
+her children. It was as if nothing had happened. She was the calm and
+imperious mother they had always known. Involuntarily, Anne uttered a deep
+sigh of relief. George blinked his eyes and also fell to wondering if they
+had served him honestly, or if, on the other hand, he too had merely
+imagined something incredible.
+
+They did not question her. The incident was closed. They were never to ask
+her why she had wept in their presence. They were never to know what had
+moved her to tears. Instinctively and quite naturally they shrank from the
+closer intimacy that such a course would involve. Their mother was herself
+once more. She was no longer like other women. They could not be in touch
+with her. And so they were never to know why she had cried. They only knew
+that for a brief space she had been as silly as any ordinary mortal could
+be, and they were rather glad to have caught her at it.
+
+Years afterward, however, George was to say to Anne: "Queer thing, wasn't
+it, that time she cried? Do you remember?" And Anne was to reply: "I've
+never forgotten it. It _was_ queer."
+
+Nor did Mrs. Tresslyn offer the slightest explanation for her conduct. She
+did not even smile shamefacedly, as any one else certainly would have done
+in apology. She was, however, vaguely pleased with her children. They had
+behaved splendidly. They were made of the right stuff, after all! She had
+not been humbled.
+
+Apathy was restored. George slumped down in his chair and set his jaws
+hard. Mrs. Tresslyn glanced idly through the pages of a magazine, while
+Anne, taking up her position once more at the window, allowed her thoughts
+to slip back into the inevitable groove. They were not centred upon
+Templeton Thorpe as an object of pity but as a subject for speculation:
+she was thinking of the thing that Braden was doing, and of his part in
+this life and death affair. She was trying to picture him up there in that
+glaring little room cutting the life out of a fellow creature under the
+very eyes of the world.
+
+The door was opened swiftly but softly. Simmy Dodge, white as a sheet,
+came into the room.... Mrs. Tresslyn went over to the window, where Anne
+was sitting, white and dry-eyed.
+
+"It is no more than we expected, dear," said she quietly. "He had no
+chance. You were prepared. It is all over. You ought to be thankful that
+his sufferings are over. He—"
+
+Anne was not listening. She broke in with a question to Simmy.
+
+"What was it that you said happened while you were in the room? Before the
+ether, I mean. Tell me again,—and slowly."
+
+Simmy cleared his throat. It was very tight and dry. He was now afraid of
+death.
+
+"It was awfully affecting," he said, wiping the moisture from his brow.
+"Awfully. That young interne fellow told me about it. Just before they
+gave the ether, Mr. Thorpe shook hands with Brady. He was smiling. They
+all heard him say 'Good-bye, my boy,—and thank you.' And Brady leaned over
+and kissed him on the forehead. The chap couldn't quite hear, but says he
+thinks he whispered, 'Good-bye, granddaddy.' Awfully affecting scene—"
+
+"'Good-bye, granddaddy,'" Anne repeated, dully. Then she covered her eyes
+with her hands.
+
+Simmy fidgeted. He wanted to help, but felt oddly that he was very much
+out of place. George's big hand gripped his arm. At any other time he
+would have winced with pain, but now he had no thought for himself.
+Moreover, there was something wonderfully sustaining in the powerful hand
+that had been laid upon his.
+
+"She ought not to take it so hard, George," he began.
+
+"They told you he never came out of the anæsthetic," said George, in a
+half-whisper. "Just died—like that?"
+
+"That's what he said. Little chap with blond hair and nose-glasses. You
+remember seeing him—Yes, he told me. He was in there. Saw it all. Gosh, I
+don't see how they can do it. This fellow seemed to be very much upset, at
+that. He looked scared. I say, George, do you know what the pylorus is?"
+
+"Pylorus? No."
+
+"I wish I knew. This fellow seemed to think that Brady made some sort of a
+mistake. He wouldn't say much, however. Some sort of a slip, I gathered.
+Something to do with the pylorus, I know. It must be a vital spot."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+The day after the funeral, George Tresslyn called to see his sister. He
+found that it required a new sort of courage on his part to enter the
+house, even after his hesitation about pressing the door-bell. He was not
+afraid of any living man, and yet he was oppressed by the uncanny fear
+that Templeton Thorpe was still alive and waiting somewhere in the dark
+old house, ready to impose further demands upon his cupidity. The young
+man was none too steady beforehand, and now he was actually shaking. When
+Murray opened the door, he was confronted by an extremely pallid visitor
+who shot a furtive look over his head and down the hall before inquiring
+whether Mrs. Thorpe was at home.
+
+"She is, Mr. George," said Murray. "You telephoned half an hour ago, sir."
+
+"So I did," said George nervously. He was not offended by Murray's obvious
+comment upon his unstable condition, for he knew—even though Murray did
+not—that no drop of liquor had passed his lips in four days.
+
+"Mrs. Thorpe is expecting you."
+
+"Is she alone, Murray?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Would you mind stepping inside, sir? It's a raw wind that is
+blowing. I think I must have taken a bit of a cold yesterday during—ahem!
+Thank you, sir. I will tell Mrs. Thorpe that you are here." Murray was
+rather testy. He had been imbibing.
+
+George shivered. "I say, Murray, would you mind giving me a drop of
+something to warm me up? I—"
+
+The butler regarded him fixedly, even severely. "You have had quite enough
+already, sir," he said firmly, but politely.
+
+"Oh, come now! I haven't had a drink in God knows how long. I—but never
+mind! If that's the way you feel about it, I withdraw my request. Keep
+your darned old brandy. But let me tell you one thing, Murray; I don't
+like your impertinence. Just remember that, will you?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir," said Murray, unoffended. He was seeing with a
+clearer vision. "You are ill. I mistook it for—"
+
+"No, I'm not ill. And I'll forgive you, too, Murray," he added
+impulsively. "I daresay you were justified. My fame has preceded me. Tell
+Mrs. Thorpe I'm here, will you? Run along; the decanter is quite safe."
+
+A few minutes later he was ushered into Anne's sitting-room upstairs. He
+stopped short just inside the door, struck by the pallor, the haggardness
+of his sister's face.
+
+"Oh, I say, Anne!" he exclaimed. "You're not taking it so hard as all
+this, I hope. My Lord, girlie, you look—you look—why, you can't possibly
+feel like this about him. What the deuce are—"
+
+"Close the door, George," she commanded. Her voice sounded hollow,
+lifeless to him. She was sitting bolt upright on the huge, comfortable
+couch in front of the grate fire. He had dreaded seeing her in black. She
+had worn it the day before. He remembered that she had worn more of it
+than seemed necessary to him. It had made her appear clumsy and over-fed.
+He was immensely relieved to find that she now wore a rose-coloured
+pignoir, and that it was wrapped very closely about her slim, long figure,
+as if she were afflicted by the cold and was futilely trying to protect
+her shivering flesh. He shuffled across the room and sat down beside her.
+"I'm glad you came. It is—oh, it is horribly lonely here in this dreadful
+house. You—"
+
+"Hasn't mother been down to see you?" he demanded. "She ought to be here.
+You need her. Confound it, Anne, what sort of a woman is—"
+
+"Hush! She telephoned. I said that I preferred to be alone. But I'm glad
+you came, George." She laid her hand on his. "You are able to feel sorry
+for me. Mother isn't."
+
+"You're looking awfully seedy, Anne. I still say she ought to be here to
+look after you. It's her place."
+
+"I'm all right. Of course, I look like the dickens, but who wouldn't? It
+has been terrible. Weeks and weeks of it. You'll never know what—" She
+shuddered so violently that he threw his arm about her and drew her close.
+
+"Well, it's all over now, girlie. Brace up. Sunshine from now on. It was a
+bad day's work when you let yourself in for it, but that's all over now."
+
+"Yes, it's all over," she said slowly. "Everything's all over." Her wide,
+sombre eyes fixed their gaze upon the rippling blue flames in the grate.
+
+"Well, smile a little. It's time some one of us Tresslyns had a chance to
+grin a little without bearing it."
+
+She raised her eyes and slowly inspected this big brother of hers.
+Seemingly she had not taken him in as a whole up to that moment of
+consideration. A slight frown appeared on her brow.
+
+"I've been hearing rather bad things about you, George," she said, after a
+moment. "Now that I look at you, you do look pretty shaky,—and pretty well
+threshed out. Is it true? Have you been as bad as they say?"
+
+He flushed. "Has Simmy Dodge been talking?"
+
+"Simmy is your friend, George," she said sharply.
+
+"It's always a fellow's friends who do the most talking," said he, "and
+that's what hurts. You don't mind what your enemies say."
+
+"Simmy has not mentioned your name to me in weeks."
+
+"Well, I don't call that being friendly. He knows everything. He ought to
+have told you just how rotten I've been, because you could believe Simmy.
+You can't believe every one, Anne, but I know Simmy would give it to you
+straight. Yes, I've been all that could be expected. The only thing I
+haven't been is a liar."
+
+"Can't you brace up, George? You are really the best of the lot, if you
+only knew it. You—"
+
+"I don't drink because I like it, you know, Anne," he said earnestly.
+
+"I see," she said, nodding her head slowly. "You drink because it's the
+surest way to prove to Lutie that you are still in love with her. Isn't
+that it?" She spoke ironically.
+
+"When I think how much you would have liked Lutie if she'd had a chance
+to—"
+
+"Don't tell it to me, George," she interrupted. "I didn't in the least
+care whom you married. As a matter of fact, I think you married the right
+girl."
+
+"You do?" he cried eagerly.
+
+"Yes. But she didn't marry the right man. If you had been the right man
+and had been taken away from her as you were, she would have died of a
+broken heart long before this. Logic for you, isn't it?"
+
+"She's got too much sense to die of a broken heart. And that isn't saying
+she wasn't in love with me, either."
+
+"Oh, well," she sighed, "it doesn't matter. She didn't die, she didn't go
+to the bad, she didn't put on a long face and weep her eyes out,—as I
+recall them they were exceedingly pretty eyes, which may account for her
+determination to spare them,—and she didn't do anything that a sensible
+woman would have done under the circumstances. A sensible woman would have
+set herself up as a martyr and bawled her eyes out. But Lutie, being an
+ignoramus, overlooked her opportunities, and now see where she is! I am
+told that she is exasperatingly virtuous, abstemious and exceedingly well-
+dressed, and all on an income derived from thirty thousand dollars that
+came out of the Tresslyn treasure chest. Almost incomprehensible, isn't
+it? Nothing sensible about Lutie, is there?"
+
+"Are you trying to be sarcastic, Anne?" demanded George, contriving to sit
+up a little straighter on the sofa. He was not in the habit of exerting
+himself in these days of unregeneration. Anne was always smarter than he;
+he never knew just how much smarter she was but he knew when to feel
+apprehensive.
+
+"You wanted to see me, George," she said abruptly. "What is it you want?
+Money?"
+
+He scowled. "I might have known you would ask that question. No, I don't
+want money. I could have had some of old man Thorpe's money a couple of
+weeks ago if I'd been mean enough to take it, and I'm not mean enough to
+take it now—from you. I want to talk to you about Braden Thorpe."
+
+For a moment or two Anne looked into his frowning eyes, and then she drew
+back into the corner of the couch, a queer shudder running through her
+body.
+
+"About Braden?" she asked, striving to make her voice sound firm and
+unstrained.
+
+"Where is he? Staying here in the house?"
+
+"Of course not. I don't know where he is. He has not been near me
+since—since the day before—" She spoke rapidly, jerkily, and did not deem
+it necessary to complete the sentence.
+
+George had the delicacy to hesitate. He even weighed, in that brief
+instant, the advisability of saying what he had come to say to her. Then a
+queer sense of duty, of brother to sister, took the place of doubt. She
+was his sister and she needed him now as never before, needed him now
+despite his self-admitted worthlessness.
+
+"See here, Anne, I'm going to speak plainly," he blurted out, leaning
+forward. "You must not see Brady Thorpe again. If he comes here, you must
+refuse to receive him."
+
+Her eyes were very dark and lustreless against the increased pallor of her
+cheeks. "He will not come here, George," she said, scarcely above a
+whisper. She moistened her lips. "It isn't necessary to—to warn me."
+
+"Mind you, I don't say a word against him," he made haste to explain.
+"It's what people will say that troubles me. Perhaps you don't know what
+they are going to say, Anne, but I do."
+
+"Oh, I know what they will say," she muttered. She looked straight into
+his eyes. "They will say that he killed his grandfather—purposely."
+
+"It doesn't matter that they say he killed his grandfather, Anne," said he
+slowly, "so much as that he killed your husband. That's the point."
+
+"What have you heard, George?" she asked, in dread of his reply.
+
+"Barely enough to let me understand that where one man is talking now, a
+hundred will be talking next week. There was a young doctor up there in
+the operating room. He doesn't say it in so many words, but he suspects
+that it wasn't an accidental slip of the—don't look like that, Anne! Gee,
+you looked awfully scary just then." He wiped his brow. "I—I thought you
+were about to faint. I say, we'll drop the matter this instant if—"
+
+"I'm not going to faint," she exclaimed. "You need not be afraid. What is
+it that this young doctor says? And how do you happen to have heard—"
+
+"It's what he said to Simmy," interrupted George, quickly. "Simmy let it
+slip last night. I was in his apartment. Then I made him tell me the whole
+thing. He says it is certain that if this young fellow saw anything wrong,
+the others also did. And you know there were three pretty big surgeons
+there looking on. Bates and those other fellows, you remember. It—it looks
+bad, Anne. That's why I tell you that you must not see Brady again."
+
+"And what has all this to do with my not seeing Braden again?" she
+demanded steadily.
+
+He stared. "Why,—why, you just mustn't, that's all. Can't you understand?"
+
+"You mean that I ought not to be put in the position of sharing the blame
+with him. Is that it?"
+
+"Well, if there should be a—er—criminal investigation, you'd be a blamed
+sight better off if you kept out of it, my girl. And what's more to the
+point, you can't afford to have people say that you are determined to do
+the thing they believe you set out to do in the beginning,—and that is to
+marry Braden as soon as—"
+
+"Stop right there, George!" she cried hotly. "Other people may say what
+they please, but the same privilege is not extended to you. Don't forget
+that you are my brother."
+
+"I'm sorry, Anne. I didn't mean it in that way. Of course, I know that
+it's all over between you and Brady. Just the same, I mean what I say when
+I advise you to see nothing of him. I've given you the hint, that's all."
+
+"And I am sorry I spoke as I did just now," she said listlessly. "Thanks,
+George. You are looking out for me, aren't you? I didn't expect it.
+Somehow, I've always felt that nobody cared whether I—"
+
+"I'll look out for you as long as I'm able to stand," said he, setting his
+jaw. "I wish you could love me, Anne. I think we'd be pretty good pals,
+after all, if we got to thinking more about each other and less about
+ourselves. Of course, I'm a down-and-outer and don't deserve much in the
+way of—"
+
+"You don't deserve sympathy," she interrupted, laying a firm hand upon
+his, "and I know you are not asking for it. Encouragement is what you
+need." Her voice shook slightly. "You want some one to love you. I
+understand. It's what we all want, I suppose. I'll try to be a real, true
+sister from now on, George. It—it will not be very hard for me to love
+you, I'm sure," she concluded, with a whimsical little smile that went
+straight to his sore, disfigured heart. A lump came into his throat and
+his eyes began to smart so suddenly that a mist came over them before he
+could blink his lids. He was very young, was George Tresslyn, despite the
+things that go to make men old.
+
+"Gee!" he said, astonished by his own emotions. Then he gripped her
+slender, ringless hand in his huge palm,—and was further surprised to
+discover that she did not wince. "We're not acting like Tresslyns at all,
+Anne. We're acting just like regular people."
+
+"Do you know that you are a very lucky person, George?" she said abruptly.
+He blinked. "You don't know it, but you are. I wish I had the same chance
+that you have."
+
+"What are you talking about?" he demanded.
+
+"I wish I had the same chance to be happy that you have."
+
+"Happy? Good Lord, I'll never be happy without Lutie, and you know it," he
+groaned.
+
+"That is just the chance you still have, Buddy. It isn't inconceivable
+that you may get Lutie back, while I—well, you know how it is with me. I'm
+done for, to put it plainly."
+
+"Lutie wouldn't wipe her feet on me," he said, struggling between hope and
+conviction. "I'd let her do it like a flash if she wanted to, but—Oh,
+what's the use! You and I have queered ourselves forever, you with Brady
+and I with Lutie. It's an infernal shame you didn't take Brady when you—"
+
+"Yes, we've queered ourselves," said she, struck by the phrase that fell
+from his lips. It was not Anne's habit to use slang, but somehow George's
+way of putting the situation into words was so aggravatingly complete that
+she almost resented his prior use of an expression that she had never used
+before in her life. It _did_ sum up the business, neatly and compactly.
+Strange that she had never thought of that admirable word before! "And of
+the two of us, George, I am the worst offender. I went about my mistake
+deliberately. I suppose it is only right that I should pay the heavier
+price."
+
+"If I thought there was a chance to get Lutie back, I'd—" But there he
+stopped as he always stopped. He had never been able to end that sentence,
+and he had got just that far with it a million times or more.
+
+"Have you tried to get her back?" she demanded suddenly, a flash of
+interest in her eyes. It was to grow into genuine enthusiasm. The impulse
+at the back of her mind was to develop into an idea, later into a strong,
+definite purpose. It had for its foundation a hitherto unsuspected desire
+to do good.
+
+"Great Scot, no!"
+
+"Then _try_, George," she cried, a new thrill in her voice.
+
+He was bewildered. "Try what?"
+
+"I would stake my life on it, George, if you set about it in the right way
+you can win Lutie all over again. All you have to do is to let her see
+that you are a man, a real man. There's no reason in the world why she
+shouldn't remember what love really is, and that she once had it through
+you. There's a lot in love that doesn't come out in a couple of months and
+she has the sense to know that she was cheated out of it. If I am not
+greatly mistaken she is just like all other women. We don't stop loving
+before we get our fill of it, or until we've at least found out that it
+bores us to be loved by the man who starts the fire going. Now, Lutie must
+realise that she never got her full share. She wasn't through loving you.
+She had barely begun. It doesn't matter how badly a woman is treated, she
+goes on loving her man until some other man proves that she is wrong, and
+he cannot prove it to her until she has had all of the love that she can
+get out of the first man. That's why women stick to the men who beat them.
+Of course, this doesn't apply to unmoral women. You know the kind I mean.
+But it is true of all honest women, and Lutie appears to be more honest
+than we suspected. She had two or three months of you, George, and then
+came the crash. You can't tell me that she stopped wanting to be loved by
+you just as she was loving you the hardest. She may some day marry another
+man, but she will never forget that she had you for three months and that
+they were not enough."
+
+"Great Scot!" said George once more, staring open-mouthed at his
+incomprehensible sister. "Are you in earnest?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Why, she ought to despise me."
+
+"Quite true, she should," said Anne coolly. "The only thing that keeps her
+from despising you is that uncompleted honeymoon. It's like giving a
+starving man just half enough to eat. He is still hungry."
+
+"Do you mean to say that you'd like to see me make it up again with Lutie?
+You'd like to have me marry her again?"
+
+"Why not? I'd find some happiness in seeing you happy, I suppose. I dare
+say it is self interest on my part, after all. In a way, it makes for my
+happiness, so therein I am selfish."
+
+"Bosh! You'll be happy, Anne, but not through me. You are the prettiest
+girl in New York, one of the richest, one of the smartest—"
+
+"See here, George," she said, a hard note stealing into her voice, "you
+and I are pretty much alike in one respect. Surprising as it may seem, we
+have been able to love some one besides ourselves. And still more
+surprising, we appear to be constant. You are no more constant in your
+love for Lutie than I am in my love for the man I shall never have. My man
+despises me. Your woman merely pities you. You can retake what you have
+lost. I cannot. But why shouldn't I go on loving my man, just as you are
+loving your woman? Why shouldn't I?" she cried out fiercely.
+
+He gulped. "Oh, I say, Anne, I—I didn't dream that it meant so much to
+you. I have always thought of you as—as—er—sort of indifferent to—But,
+that just shows how little a fellow knows about his sister. A sister never
+seems to be given the same flesh and blood feelings that other women have.
+I'm sorry I said what I did a little while ago. I take it back, Anne. If
+you've got a chance to get Brady back—"
+
+"Stop! I spoke of your affairs, George, because they are not altogether
+hopeless. We cannot discuss mine."
+
+"And as for that story, who is going to prove that Braden intentionally—"
+He checked the words, and switched off along another line. "Even though he
+did put a merciful end to Mr. Thorpe's suffering, what selfish motive can
+be charged to him? Not one. He doesn't get a dollar of the estate, Simmy
+says. He alone loved that old man. No one else in the world loved him. He
+did the best he could for him, and he doesn't care what any one thinks
+about it. I came here to warn you, to tell you to be careful, but now that
+I know what it means to you, I—"
+
+She arose. Facing him, she said slowly, deliberately: "I believe that
+Braden tried to save his grandfather's life. He asked my consent to the
+operation. I gave it. When I gave it, I was morally certain that Mr.
+Thorpe was to die on the operating table. I wanted him to die. I wanted an
+end put to his suffering. But I did not want Braden to be the one. Some
+day I may have the courage to tell you something, George, that will shock
+you as nothing on earth has ever shocked you. I will tell you the real
+reason why Templeton Thorpe married me. I—but not now. I wish that the
+whole world could know that if Braden did take his own way to end the
+suffering of that unhappy old man, I have no word of condemnation for him.
+He did the humane thing."
+
+George remained seated, watching her with perplexed, dubious eyes. It was
+a matter that deserved mental concentration. He could best achieve this by
+abstaining from physical indulgence. Here was his sister, the wife of the
+dead man, actually condoning an act that was almost certain to be
+professionally excoriated,—behind the hand, so to say,—even though there
+was no one to contend that a criminal responsibility should be put upon
+Braden Thorpe. He was, for the moment, capable of forgetting his own
+troubles in considering the peril that attended Anne.
+
+"Oh, I say, Anne, you'll have to be careful what you say. It's all right
+to say it to me, but for heaven's sake don't go telling these things to
+other people." He was serious, desperately serious. "No one will
+understand. No one will see it as you do. There has been a lot of talk
+about Brady's views and all that. People are not very charitable toward
+him. They stick to the idea that God ought to do such jobs as Brady
+advocates, and I don't know but they are right. So now you just keep your
+mouth closed about all this. It is Braden's affair, it's his lookout, not
+yours. The least said, the better, take it from me. You—"
+
+"We will talk of something else, George, if you don't mind," she said,
+relaxing suddenly. She sat down beside him once more, rather limply and
+with a deep, long-drawn sigh, as if she had spent herself in this single
+exposition of feeling. "Now what do you intend to do in regard to Lutie?
+Are you ready to straighten up and make the effort to—to be something
+creditable to yourself and to her?"
+
+"Oh, I've tried to hold down a good many respectable jobs," he scoffed.
+"It's no good trying. I'm too busy thinking of her to be able to devote
+much of my remarkable intelligence to ordinary work."
+
+"Well, you've never had me behind you till now," she said. "I am perfectly
+able to think for you, if you'll let me. Simmy Dodge is interested in you.
+He can get you a berth somewhere. It may be a humble one, but it will lead
+to something better. You are not a drunkard, you are not a loafer. Now, I
+will tell you what I intend to do. If, at the end of a year, you can show
+me that you—"
+
+"Hold on! You are not thinking of offering me money, are you?" he
+demanded, flushing angrily.
+
+Her eyes brightened. "You would not accept it?"
+
+"No," he said flatly.
+
+"You must remember one thing, George," she said, after a moment. "You
+cannot take Lutie back until you have paid mother in full for all that
+your freedom cost her. It wouldn't be fair to take both the girl and the
+money she received for giving you up that time. She was paid in full for
+returning you to the family circle. If she takes you back again, she
+should refund the money, even though she is accepting damaged and well-
+worn goods. Now, Lutie should not be called upon to make restitution. That
+is for you to do. I fancy it will be a long time before you can amass
+thirty or forty thousand dollars, so I make you this offer: the day you
+are _good_ enough for Lutie to marry all over again, I will pay to mother
+for you the full amount that Lutie would owe her in violating the
+contract. You will not receive a cent of it, you see. But you understand
+how rotten it would be for you and Lutie to—"
+
+"I see, I see," cried he, striking his knee with his clenched hand. "We
+couldn't do it, that's all. It's awfully good of you, Anne, to do this for
+me. I'll—I'll never forget it. And I'll pay you back somehow before we're
+through, see if I don't." He was already assuming that the task of winning
+back Lutie was joyously on the way to certain consummation.
+
+"I am a rich woman," said Anne, compressing her lips. "I sha'n't miss a
+few dollars, you know. To-morrow I am to go with Mr. Hollenback to the
+safety vaults. A fortune will be placed in my hands. The deal will be
+closed."
+
+"It's a lot of money," said George, shaking his head gloomily. It was as
+if he had said that it was money she shouldn't speak of with pride. "I
+say, Anne, do you know just how mother is fixed for money? Last winter she
+told me she might have to sell the house and—"
+
+"I know," said Anne shortly. "I intend to share the spoils with her, in a
+way, even though she can't share the shame with me. She brought us up,
+George, and she made us the noble creatures that we are. We owe her
+something for that, eh? Oh, I am not as bitter as I appear to be, so don't
+look shocked. Mother has her ideals, and she is honest about them. She is
+a wonderful woman, a wonderful mother. She did her best for us in every
+way possible. I don't blame her for what has happened to me. I blame
+myself. She is not half as mean as I am, George, and she isn't one-tenth
+as weak-kneed as you. She stood by both of us, and I for one shall stand
+by her. So don't you worry about mother, old boy. Worry about the honest
+job you are expected to get—and hold."
+
+Later on she said to him: "Some day I shall make it a point to see Lutie.
+I will shake hands with her. You see, George dear," she went on
+whimsically, "I don't in the least object to divorcees. They are not half
+as common as divorces. And as for your contention that if you and Lutie
+had a child to draw you together, I can only call your attention to the
+fact that there are fewer divorces among people who have no children than
+among those who have. The records—or at least the newspapers—prove that to
+be a fact. In nine-tenths of the divorce cases you read about, the custody
+of children is mentioned. That should prove something, eh? It ought to put
+at rest forever the claim that children bind mismated people together.
+They don't, and that is all there is about it."
+
+George grinned in his embarrassment. "Well, I'll be off now, Anne. I'll
+see Simmy this afternoon, as you suggest, and—" he hesitated, the worried
+look coming into his eyes once more—"Oh, I say, Anne, I can't help
+repeating what I said about your seeing Braden. Don't—"
+
+"Good-bye, George," she broke in abruptly, a queer smile on her lips.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+Braden Thorpe realised that he would have to pay, one way or another, for
+what had happened in the operating room. Either his honour or his skill
+would be attacked for the course his knife had taken.
+
+The day after his grandfather's death, he went to the office of Dr. Bates,
+the deposed family physician and adviser. He did not go in a cringing,
+apologetic spirit, but as one unafraid, as one who is justified within
+himself and fears not the report of evil. His heart was sore, for he knew
+he was to be misjudged. Those men who looked on while he worked so
+swiftly, so surely, so skilfully in that never-to-be-forgotten hour, were
+not to be deceived. He knew too well that he had performed with the most
+noteworthy skill, and, if he had any other feeling than that of grief for
+the death of one who had been dear to him, it was that of pride in the
+consciousness that he deserved the praise of these men for the manner in
+which he performed the most delicate of operations. He knew that they
+knew, quite as well as he, that but for the fatal swerving of half an inch
+of the instrument in his steady fingers, Templeton Thorpe would not only
+be alive at that moment but conceivably might be expected to survive for
+many days.
+
+They had seen everything and they understood. He did not seek to conceal
+the truth from himself. He had heard the sharply drawn breath that was
+taken through the parted lips of his tense observers as that admirably
+handled blade slid from its true course and spoiled what might have been
+heralded as a marvellous feat in surgery. It was as if something had
+snapped in the minds of these three men who watched. They had looked,
+however, upon all that was before him as he worked. They had seen, as he
+saw, the thing that no human skill could conquer. He felt their eyes upon
+him as he turned the knife quickly, suddenly, surely, and then they had
+looked into his eyes as he raised them for a second. He had spared his
+grandfather another month of agony, and they had seen everything. It was
+not unlikely that the patient might have survived the anæsthetic, and it
+was equally probable that subsequent care on the part of the doctor and
+the nurse might have kept him alive long enough to permit his case to be
+recorded by virtue of his having escaped alive from the operating table,
+as one of those exasperatingly smug things known to the profession as a
+"successful operation,"—sardonic prelude to an act of God!
+
+There seems to be no such thing as an unsuccessful operation. If God would
+only keep his finger out of the business, nothing could go wrong. It is
+always the act of God that keeps a man from enjoying the fruits of an
+absolutely successful operation. Up to the instant that Braden's knife
+took its sanguinary course, there was every indication that the operation
+would be successful, even though Mr. Thorpe were to breathe his last while
+the necessary stitches were being taken.
+
+He had slept soundly throughout the night just past. For the first night
+in a week his mind and body took the rest that had been denied them for so
+long. The thing was behind him. It was over. He had earned his right to
+sleep. When he laid his head upon the pillow there was no fear of evil
+dreams, no qualms, no troubled conscience to baffle the demands of
+exhaustion. He had done no wrong. His sleep was long, sweet, refreshing.
+He had no fear of God in his soul that night, for he had spoken with God
+in the silence of the long night before and he was at peace with Him. No
+man could say that he had not tried to save the life of Templeton Thorpe.
+He had worked with all the knowledge at his command; he himself felt that
+he had worked as one inspired,—so much so, in fact, that he now knew that
+never again in all his life would he be able to surpass or even equal the
+effort of that unforgettable day. But he had recognised the futility of
+skill even as it was being exerted to its utmost accomplishments. The
+inevitable was bared to his intelligence. He had done his best for
+Templeton Thorpe; no man could have done more than that. With the eyes of
+other men upon him, eyes that saw all that he saw, he took it upon himself
+to spare his grandfather the few days that might have been added to his
+hell by an act less kind,—though no doubt more eminently professional.
+
+And as he performed that final act of mercy, his mind and heart were on
+the handshake, and the word of farewell that his benefactor had murmured
+in his ear. Templeton Thorpe was at rest; he had thanked his grandson in
+advance.
+
+So it was that Braden slept the night through without a tremor. But with
+his waking came the sense of responsibility to others. Not to the world at
+large, not to the wife of the dead man, but to the three sincere and
+honourable members of his profession, who, no doubt, found themselves in a
+most trying position. They were, in a way, his judges, and as such they
+were compelled to accept their own testimony as evidence for or against
+him. With him it was a matter of principle, with them a question of
+ethics. As men they were in all probability applauding his act, but as
+doctors they were bound by the first and paramount teachings of their
+profession to convict him of an unspeakable wrong. It was his duty to
+grant these men the right to speak of what they had seen.
+
+He went first to see Dr. Bates, his oldest friend and counsellor, and the
+one man who could afterwards speak freely with the widow of the man who
+had been his lifelong patient. Going down in the elevator from his room at
+the hotel, Braden happened to glance at himself in the narrow mirror. He
+was startled into a second sharp, investigating look. Strange that he had
+not observed while shaving how thin his face had become. His cheeks seemed
+to have flattened out leanly over night; his heavy eyes looked out from
+shadowy recesses that he had failed to take account of before; there were
+deeper lines at the corners of his mouth, as if newly strengthened by some
+artful sculptor while he slept. He was older by years for that unguarded
+sleep. Time had taken him unawares; it had slyly seized the opportunity to
+remould his features while youth was weak from exhaustion. In a vague way
+he recalled a certain mysterious change in Anne Tresslyn's face. It was
+not age that had wrought the change in her, nor could it be age that had
+done the same for him.
+
+The solution came to him suddenly, as he stepped out into the open air and
+saw the faces of other men. It was strength, not weakness, that had put
+its stamp upon his countenance, and upon Anne's; the strength that
+survives the constructive years, the years of development. He saw this
+set, firm strength in the faces of other men for the first time. They too
+no doubt had awakened abruptly from the dream of ambition to find
+themselves dominated by a purpose. That purpose was in their faces.
+Ambition was back of that purpose perhaps, deep in the soul of the man,
+but purpose had become the necessity.
+
+Every man comes to that strange spot in the dash through life where he
+stops to divest himself of an ideal. He lays it down beside the road and,
+without noticing, picks up a resolve in its place and strides onward,
+scarcely conscious of the substitution. It requires strength to carry a
+resolve. An ideal carries itself and is no burden. So each of these men in
+the street,—truckman, motorman, merchant, clerk, what you will,—sets forth
+each day with the same old resolution at his heels; and in their set faces
+is the strength that comes with the transition from wonder to earnestness.
+Its mark was stamped upon the countenances of young and old alike. Even
+the beggar at the street corner below was without his ideal. Even he had a
+definite, determined purpose.
+
+Then there was that subtle change in Anne. He thought of it now, most
+unwillingly. He did not want to think of her. He was certain that he had
+put her out of his thoughts. Now he realised that she had merely lain
+dormant in his mind while it was filled with the intensities of the past
+few days. She had not been crowded out, after all. The sharp recollection
+of the impression he had had on seeing her immediately after his arrival
+was proof that she was still to be reckoned with in his thoughts.
+
+The strange, elusive maturity that had come into her young, smooth
+face,—that was it. Maturity without the passing of Youth; definiteness,
+understanding, discovery,—a grip on the realities of life, just as it was
+with him and all the others who were awake. A year in the life of a young
+thing like Anne could not have created the difference that he felt rather
+than saw.
+
+Something more significant than the dimensions of a twelve-month had added
+its measure to Anne's outlook upon life. She had turned a corner in the
+lane and was facing the vast plain she would have to cross unguided. She
+had come to the place where she must think and act for herself,—and to
+that place all men and all women come abruptly, one time or another, to
+become units in the multitude.
+
+We do not know when we pass that inevitable spot, nor have we the power to
+work backward and decide upon the exact moment when adolescence gave way
+to manhood. It comes and passes without our knowledge, and we are given a
+new vision in the twinkling of an eye, in a single beat of the heart. No
+man knows just when he becomes a man in his own reckoning. It is not a
+matter of years, nor growth, nor maturity of body and mind, but an
+awakening which goes unrecorded on the mind's scroll. Some men do not note
+the change until they are fifty, others when they are fifteen.
+Circumstance does the trick.
+
+He was still thinking of Anne as he hurried up the front door-steps and
+rang Dr. Bates' bell. She was not the same Anne that he had known and
+loved, far back in the days when he was young. Could it be possible that
+it was only a year ago? Was Anne so close to the present as all that, and
+yet so indefinably remote when it came to analysing this new look in her
+eyes? Was it only a year ago that she was so young and so unfound?
+
+A sudden sickness assailed him as he waited for the maid to open the door.
+Anne had been made a widow. He, not God, was responsible for this new
+phase in her life. Had he not put a dreadful charge upon her conscience?
+Had he not forced her to share the responsibility with him? And, while the
+rest of the world might forever remain in ignorance, would it ever be
+possible for her to hide the truth from herself?
+
+She knew what it all meant, and she had offered to share the consequences
+with him, no matter what course his judgment led him to pursue. He had not
+considered her until this instant as a partner in the undertaking, but now
+he realised that she must certainly be looking upon herself as such. His
+heart sank. He had made a hideous mistake. He should not have gone to her.
+She could not justify herself by the same means that were open to him.
+
+From her point of view, he had killed her husband, and with her consent!
+
+He found himself treating the dead man in a curiously detached fashion,
+and not as his own blood-relation. Her husband, that was the long and the
+short of his swift reflections, not his grandfather. All her life she
+would remember that she had supported him in an undertaking that had to do
+with the certain death of her husband, and no matter how merciful, how
+sensible that act may have been, or how earnestly he may have tried to see
+his way clear to follow a course opposed to the one he had taken, the fact
+remained that she had acknowledged herself prepared for just what
+subsequently happened in the operating room.
+
+Going back to the beginning, Templeton Thorpe's death was in her mind the
+day she married him. It had never been a question with her as to how he
+should die, but _when_. But this way to the desired end could never have
+been included in her calculations. _This_ was not the way out.
+
+She had been forced to take a stand with him in this unhappy business, and
+she would have to pay a cost that he could not share with her, for his
+conscience was clear. What were her thoughts to-day? With what ugly crime
+was she charging herself? Was she, in the secrecy of her soul, convicting
+herself of murder? Was _that_ what he had given her to think about all the
+rest of her life?
+
+The servant was slow in answering the bell. They always are at the homes
+of doctors.
+
+"Is Dr. Bates at home?"
+
+"Office hours from eight to nine, and four to six."
+
+"Say that Dr. Thorpe wishes to see him."
+
+This seemed to make a difference. "He is out, Dr. Thorpe. We expect him in
+any moment though. For lunch. Will you please to come in and wait?"
+
+"Thank you."
+
+She felt called upon to deliver a bit of information. "He went down to see
+Mrs. Thorpe, sir,—your poor grandmother."
+
+"I see," said Braden dully. It did not occur to him that enlightenment was
+necessary. A queer little chill ran through his veins. Was Dr. Bates down
+there now, telling Anne all that he knew, and was she, in the misery of
+remorse, making him her confessor? In the light of these disturbing
+thoughts, he was fast becoming blind to the real object of this, the first
+of the three visits he was to make.
+
+Dr. Bates found him staring gloomily from the window when he came into the
+office half an hour later, and at once put the wrong though obvious
+construction upon his mood.
+
+"Come, come, my boy," he said as they shook hands; "put it out of your
+mind. Don't let the thing weigh like this. You knew what you were about
+yesterday, so don't look back upon what happened with—"
+
+Braden interrupted him, irrelevantly. "You've been down to see Mrs.
+Thorpe. How is she? How does she appear to be taking it?" He spoke
+rapidly, nervously.
+
+"As well as could be expected," replied the older man drily. "She is glad
+that it's all over. So are we all, for that matter."
+
+"Did she send for you?"
+
+"Yes," said Dr. Bates, after an instant's hesitation. "I'll be frank with
+you, Braden. She wanted to know just what happened."
+
+"And you told her?"
+
+"I told her that you did everything that a man could do," said the other,
+choosing his words with care.
+
+"In other words, you did not tell her what happened."
+
+"I did not, my boy. There is no reason why she should know. It is better
+that she should never know," said Dr. Bates gravely.
+
+"What did she say?" asked Braden sharply.
+
+Dr. Bates suddenly was struck by the pallor in the drawn face. "See here,
+Braden, you must get a little rest. Take my advice and—"
+
+"Tell me what she had to say," insisted the young man.
+
+"She cried a little when I told her that you had done your best, and
+that's about all."
+
+"Didn't she confess that she expected—that she feared I might have—"
+
+"Confess? Why do you use that word?" demanded Dr. Bates, as the young man
+failed to complete his sentence. His gaze was now fixed intently on
+Braden's face. A suspicion was growing in his mind.
+
+"I am terribly distressed about something, Dr. Bates," said Braden,
+uneasily. "I wish you would tell me everything that Anne had to say to
+you."
+
+"Well, for one thing, she said that she knew you would do everything in
+your power to bring about a successful result. She seemed vastly relieved
+when I told her that you had done all that mortal man could do. I don't
+believe she has the faintest idea that—that an accident occurred. Now that
+I think of it, she did stop me when I undertook to convince her that your
+bark is worse than your bite, young man,—in other words, that your
+theories are for conversational and not practical purposes. Yes, she cut
+me off rather sharply. I hadn't attached any importance to her—See here,
+Braden," he demanded suddenly, "is there any reason why she should have
+cut me off like that? Had she cause to feel that you might have put into
+practice your—your—Come, come, you know what I mean." He was leaning
+forward in his chair, his hands gripping the arm-rests.
+
+"She is more or less in sympathy with my views," said Braden warily. "Of
+course, you could not expect her to be in sympathy with them in this case,
+however." He put it out as a feeler.
+
+"Well, I should say not!" exclaimed Dr. Bates. "It's conceivable that she
+may have been in some doubt, however, until I reassured her. By George, I
+am just beginning to see through her, Braden. She had me down there to—to
+set her mind at rest about—about _you_. 'Pon my soul, she did it neatly,
+too."
+
+"And she believes—you think she believes that her mind is at rest?"
+
+"That's an odd question. What do you mean?"
+
+"Just that. Does she believe that you told her the truth?"
+
+"Oh! I see. Well, a doctor has to tell a good many lies in the course of a
+year. He gets so that he can tell them with a straighter face than when
+he's telling the truth. I don't see why Mrs. Thorpe should doubt my
+word—my professional word—unless there is some very strong reason for
+doing so." He continued to eye Braden keenly. "Do you know of any reason?"
+
+Thorpe by this time was able to collect himself. The primal instinct to
+unburden himself to this old, understanding friend, embraced sturdy,
+outspoken argument in defence of his act, but this defence did not
+contemplate the possible inclusion of Anne. He was now satisfied that she
+had not delivered herself into the confidence of Dr. Bates. She had kept
+her secret close. It was not for him to make revelations. The newly
+aroused fear that even this good old friend might attach an unholy design
+to their motives impelled him to resort to equivocation, if not to actual
+falsehood. This was a side to the matter that had not been considered by
+him till now. But he was now acutely aware of an ugly conviction that she
+had thought of it afterwards, just as he was thinking of it now, hence her
+failure to repeat to Dr. Bates the substance of their discussion before
+the operation took place.
+
+He experienced an unaccountable, disquieting sensation of guilt, of
+complicity in an evil deed, of a certain slyness that urged him to hide
+something from this shrewd old man. To his utter amazement, he was saying
+to himself that he must not "squeal" on Anne, his partner! He now knew
+that he could never speak of what had passed between himself and Anne. Of
+his own part in the affair he could speak frankly with this man, and with
+all men, and be assured that no sinister motive would be attributed to
+him. He would be free from the slightest trace of suspicion so long as he
+stood alone in accounts of the happenings of the day before. No matter how
+violent the criticism or how bitter the excoriation, he would at least be
+credited with honest intentions. But the mere mention of Anne's name would
+be the signal for a cry from the housetops, and all the world would hear.
+And Anne's name would sound the death knell of "honest intentions."
+
+"As I said a moment ago, Dr. Bates, Mrs. Thorpe is fully aware of my
+rather revolutionary views," he said, not answering the question with
+directness. "That was enough to cause some uneasiness on my part."
+
+"Um! I dare say," said Dr. Bates thoughtfully. Back in his mind was the
+recollection of a broken engagement, or something of the sort. "I see.
+Naturally. I think, on the whole, my boy, she believes that I told her the
+truth. You needn't be uneasy on that score. I—I—for a moment I had an idea
+that you might have _said_ something to her." It was almost a question.
+
+Braden shook his head. His eyes did not flicker as he answered steadily:
+"Surely you cannot think that I would have so much as mentioned my views
+in discussing—"
+
+"Certainly not, my boy," cried the other heartily. Braden did not fail to
+note the look of relief in his eye, however. "So now you are all right as
+far as Mrs. Thorpe is concerned. I made a point of assuring her that
+everything went off satisfactorily to the three of us. She need never know
+the truth. You needn't feel that you cannot look her in the eyes, Braden."
+
+"'Gad, that sounds sinister," exclaimed Thorpe, staring. "That's what they
+say when they are talking about thieves and liars, Dr. Bates."
+
+"I beg your pardon. I meant well, my boy, although perhaps it wasn't the
+nice thing to say. And now have you come to tell me that it was an
+accident, an unfortunate—"
+
+"No," said Braden, straightening up. "I come to you first, Dr. Bates,
+because you are my oldest friend and supporter, and because you were the
+lifelong friend of my grandfather. I am going also to Dr. Bray and Dr.
+Ernest after I leave here. I do not want any one of you to feel that I
+expect you to shield me in this matter. You are at liberty to tell all
+that you know. I did what I thought was best, what my conscience ordered
+me to do, and I did it openly in the presence of three witnesses. There
+was no accident. No one may say that I bungled. No one—"
+
+"I should say you didn't bungle," said the older man. "I never witnessed a
+finer—ahem! In fact, we all agree on that. My boy, you have a great future
+before you. You are one of the most skilful—"
+
+"Thanks. I didn't come to hear words of praise, Dr. Bates. I came to
+release you from any obligation that you may—"
+
+"Tut, tut! That's all right. We understand—perfectly. All three of us. I
+have talked it over with Bray and Ernest. What happened up there yesterday
+is as a closed book. We shall never open it. I will not go so far as to
+say that we support your theories, but we do applaud your method. There
+isn't one of us who would not have _felt_ like doing the thing you did,
+but on the other hand there isn't one of us who could have done it. We
+would have allowed him a few more days of life. Now that it is all over, I
+will not say that you did wrong. I can only say that it was not right to
+do the thing you did. However, it is your conscience and not mine that
+carries the load,—if there is one. You may rest assured that not one of us
+will ever voluntarily describe what actually took place."
+
+"But I do not want to feel that you regard it your duty to protect me from
+the consequences of a deliberate—"
+
+"See here, my lad, do you want the world to know that you took your
+grandfather's life? That's what it amounts to, you know. You can't go
+behind the facts."
+
+Thorpe lowered his head. "It would be ridiculous for me to say that I do
+not care whether the world knows the truth about it, Dr. Bates. To be
+quite honest, sir, I do not want the world to know. You will understand
+why, in this particular instance, I should dread publicity. Mr. Thorpe was
+my grandfather. He was my benefactor. But that isn't the point. I had no
+legal right to do the thing I did. I took it upon myself to take a step
+that is not now countenanced by the law or by our profession. I did this
+in the presence of witnesses. What I want to make clear to you and to the
+other doctors is that I should have acted differently if my patient had
+been any one else in the world. I loved my grandfather. He was my only
+friend. He expected me to do him a great service yesterday. I could not
+fail him, sir. When I saw that there was nothing before him but a few
+awful days of agony, I did what he would have blessed me for doing had he
+been conscious. If my patient had been any one else I should have adhered
+strictly to the teachings of my profession. I would not have broken the
+law."
+
+"Your grandfather knew when he went up to the operating room that he was
+not to leave it alive. Is that the case?"
+
+"He did not expect to leave it alive, sir," amended Braden steadily.
+
+"You had talked it all over with him?"
+
+"I had agreed to perform the operation, that is all, sir. He knew that his
+case was hopeless. That is why he insisted on having the operation
+performed."
+
+"In other words, he deliberately put you in your present position? He set
+his mind on forcing this thing upon you? Then all I have to say for
+Templeton Thorpe is that he was a damned—But there, he's dead and gone
+and, thank God, he can't hear me. You must understand, Braden, that this
+statement of yours throws an entirely new light upon the case," said Dr.
+Bates gravely. "The fact that it was actually expected of you makes your
+act a—er—shall we say less inspirational? I do not believe it wise for you
+to make this statement to my colleagues. You are quite safe in telling me,
+for I understand the situation perfectly. But if you tell them that there
+was an agreement—even a provisional agreement—I—well, the thing will not
+look the same to them."
+
+"You are right, Dr. Bates," said Braden, after a moment. "Thank you for
+the advice. I see what you mean. I shall not tell them all that I have
+told you. Still, I am determined to see them and—"
+
+"Quite so. It is right that you should. Give them cause to respect you, my
+boy. They saw everything. They are sound, just men. From what they have
+said to me, you may rest assured that they do not condemn you any more
+than I do. The anæsthetician saw nothing. He was occupied. That young
+fellow—what's his name?—may have been more capable of observing than we'd
+suspect in one so tender, but I fancy he wouldn't know _everything_. I
+happen to know that he saw the knife slip. He mentioned it to Simeon
+Dodge."
+
+"To Simmy Dodge!"
+
+"Yes. Dodge came to see me last night. He told me that the boy made some
+queer statement to him about the pylorus, and he seemed to be troubled. I
+set him straight in the matter. He doesn't know any more about the pylorus
+than he knew before, but he does know that no surgeon on earth could have
+avoided the accident that befell you in the crisis. Simmy, good soul, was
+for going out at once and buying off the interne, but I stopped him. We
+will take care of the young man. He doesn't say it was intentional, and we
+will convince him that it wasn't. How do you stand with young George
+Tresslyn?"
+
+"I don't know. He used to like me. I haven't seen—"
+
+"It appears that Simmy first inquired of George if he knew anything about
+the pylorus. He is Mrs. Thorpe's brother. I should be sorry if he got it
+into his head that—well, that there was anything wrong, anything that
+might take him to her with ugly questions."
+
+"I shall have to chance that, Dr. Bates," said Braden grimly.
+
+"Mrs. Thorpe must never know, Braden," said the other, gripping his hands
+behind his back.
+
+"If it gets out, she can't help knowing. She may suspect even now—"
+
+"But it is not to get out. There may be rumours starting from this
+interne's remark and supported by your avowed doctrines, but we must
+combine to suppress them. The newspapers cannot print a line without our
+authority, and they'll never get it. They will not dare to print a rumour
+that cannot be substantiated. I spoke of George a moment ago for a very
+good reason. I am afraid of him. He has been going down hill pretty fast
+of late. It wouldn't surprise me to hear that he had sunk low enough to
+attempt blackmail."
+
+"Good heaven! Why—why, he's not that sort—"
+
+"Don't be too sure of him. He is almost in the gutter, they say. He's
+_that_ sort, at any rate."
+
+"I don't believe George ever did a crooked thing in his life, poor devil.
+He wouldn't dream of coming to me with a demand for—"
+
+"He wouldn't come to you," said the other, sententiously. "He would not
+have the courage to do that. But he might go to Anne. Do you see what I
+mean?"
+
+Braden shook his head. He recalled George's experiences in the sick-room
+and the opportunity that had been laid before him. "I see what you mean,
+but George—well, he's not as bad as you think, Dr. Bates."
+
+"We'll see," said the older man briefly. "I hope he's the man you seem to
+think he is. I am afraid of him."
+
+"He loves his sister, Dr. Bates."
+
+"In that case he may not attempt to blackmail her, but it would not
+prevent his going to her with his story. The fact that he does love her
+may prove to be your greatest misfortune."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"As I said before, Anne must never know," said Dr. Bates, laying his hand
+on the young man's shoulder and gripping it suddenly. "Your grandfather
+talked quite freely with me toward the end. No; Anne must never know."
+
+Braden stared at the floor in utter perplexity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+Wade went through the unnecessary form of "giving notice" a day or two
+after his old master was laid to rest. On the day that Templeton Thorpe
+went to the hospital he abandoned an almost lifelong habit of cocking his
+head in an attitude of listening, and went about the house with the
+corners of his mouth drooping instead of maintaining their everlasting
+twist upward in the set smile of humility.
+
+He had been there for thirty years and more, and now he was no longer
+needed. He would have to get out. He had saved a little money,—not much,
+but enough to start a small business of some sort,—and he was complaining
+bitterly to himself of the fate that deprived him of Mr. Thorpe's advice
+just when it was imperative that he should know what enterprise would be
+the safest for him to undertake. It nettled him to think that he had
+failed to take advantage of his opportunities while this shrewd, capable
+old man was alive and in a position to set him on the right path to
+prosperity. He should have had the sense to look forward to this very day.
+
+For thirty years he had gone on believing that he knew so much more than
+Mr. Thorpe that Mr. Thorpe couldn't possibly get along without him, and
+now he was brought up sharply against the discovery that he couldn't get
+along without Mr. Thorpe. For thirty years he had done only the things
+that Mr. Thorpe wanted him to do, instructed him to do, or even drove him
+to do. Suddenly he found himself with absolutely nothing to do, or at any
+rate with no one to tell him what to do, and instead of a free and
+independent agent, with no one to order him about, he wasn't anything,—he
+wasn't anything at all. This was not what he had been looking forward to
+with such complacency and confidence. He was like a lost soul. No one to
+tell him what to do! No one to valet! No one to call him a blundering
+idiot! No one to despise except himself! And he had waited thirty years
+for the day to come when he could be his own man, with the power to tell
+every one to go to the devil—and to do so himself if he saw fit. He hardly
+recognised himself when he looked in the mirror. Was that scared, bleak,
+wobegone face a reflection? Was he really like that?
+
+He was filled with a bitter rage against Mr. Thorpe. How he hated him for
+dying like this and leaving him with nothing to do after all these years
+of faithful service. And how shocked he was, and frightened, to discover
+himself wanting to pause outside his master's door with his head cocked to
+hear the voice that would never shout out to him again.
+
+He knew to a penny just how much he had in the Savings Banks about town,—a
+trifle over twelve thousand dollars, the hoardings of thirty years. He had
+gone on being a valet all these years without a single thought of being
+anything else, and yet he had always looked forward to the day when he
+could go into some nice, genteel little business for himself,—when he
+could step out of service and enjoy life to the full. But how was he to go
+about stepping out of service and into a nice, genteel little business
+without Mr. Thorpe to tell him what to do? Here was he, sixty-five years
+old, without a purpose in life. Beginning life at sixty-five!
+
+Of course, young Mrs. Thorpe would have no use for a valet. No doubt she
+would marry again,—Wade had his notions!—but he couldn't think of
+subjecting himself to the incompetency of a new master, even though his
+old place were held open for him. He would not be able to adjust himself
+to another master,—or to put it in his own words, it would be impossible
+to adjust another master to himself. Young Master Braden might give him
+something to do for the sake of old times, but then again Mrs. Thorpe
+would have to be taken into consideration. Wade hadn't the slightest doubt
+that she would one day "marry into the family again." As a matter of fact,
+he believed in his soul that there was an understanding between the young
+people. There were moments when he squinted his eyes and cringed a little.
+He would have given a great deal to be able to put certain thoughts out of
+his mind.
+
+And then there was another reason for not wanting to enter the service of
+Dr. Braden Thorpe. Suppose he were to become critically ill. Would he, in
+that event, feel at liberty to call in an outside doctor to take charge of
+his case? Would it not be natural for Dr. Braden to attend him? And
+suppose that Dr. Braden were to conclude that he couldn't get well!
+
+He gave notice to Murray, the butler. He hated to do this, for he despised
+Murray. The butler would not have to go. He too had been with Mr. Thorpe
+for more than a quarter of a century, and death had not robbed him of a
+situation. What manner of justice was it that permitted Murray to go on
+being useful while he had to go out into the world and become a burden to
+himself?
+
+"Murray informs me, Wade, that you have given notice," said Anne, looking
+up as he shuffled into an attitude before her. "He says that you have
+saved quite a lot of money and are therefore independent. I am happy to
+hear that you are in a position to spend the remainder of your life in
+ease and—why, what is the matter, Wade?"
+
+He was very pale, and swayed slightly. "If you please, madam, Murray is
+mistaken," he mumbled. An idea was forming in his unhappy brain. "I—I am
+leaving because I realise that you no longer have any use for my services,
+and not because I am—er—well off, as the saying is. I shall try to get
+another place." His mind was clear now. The idea was completely formed.
+"Of course, it will be no easy matter to find a place at my age,
+but,—well, a man must live, you know." He straightened up a bit, as if a
+weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
+
+She was puzzled. "But you have money, Wade. You have worked hard. You have
+earned a good rest. Why should you go on slaving for other people?"
+
+"Alas," said Wade, resuming the patient smile that had been missing for
+days and cocking his head a little, "it is not for me to rest. Murray does
+not know everything. My savings are small. He does not know the uses to
+which I have been obliged to—I beg pardon, madam, you cannot, of course,
+be interested in my poor affairs." He was very humble.
+
+"But Mr. Thorpe always spoke of you as an exceedingly thrifty man. I am
+sure that he believed you to be comfortably fixed for life, Wade."
+
+"Quite so," agreed Wade. "And I should have been had it been possible to
+lay by with all these unmentioned obligations crowding upon me, year in,
+year out."
+
+"Your family? I did not know that there was any one dependent upon you."
+
+"I have never spoken of my affairs, ma'am," said Wade. "It is not for a
+servant to trouble his employer with—ahem! You understand, I am sure."
+
+"Perfectly. I am sorry."
+
+"So I thought I would give notice at once, madam, so that I might be on
+the lookout as soon as possible for a new place. You see, I shall soon be
+too old to apply for a place, whilst if I manage to secure one in time I
+may be allowed to stay on in spite of my age."
+
+"Have you anything in view?"
+
+"Nothing, madam. I am quite at a loss where to—"
+
+"Take all the time you like, Wade," she said, genuinely sorry for the man.
+She never had liked him. He was the one man in all the world who might
+have pitied her for the mistake she had made, and he had steeled his heart
+against her. She knew that he felt nothing but scorn for her, and yet she
+was sorry for him. This was new proof to her that she had misjudged her
+own heart. It was a softer thing than she had supposed. "Stay on here
+until you find something satisfactory. Mr. Thorpe would have wished you to
+stay. You were a very faithful friend to him, Wade. He set great store by
+you."
+
+"Thank you, madam. You are very kind. Of course, I shall strive to make
+myself useful while I remain. I dare say Murray can find something for me
+to do. Temporarily, at least, I might undertake the duties of the furnace
+man and handy-man about the house. He is leaving to-morrow, I hear. If you
+will be so good as to tell Murray that I am to take O'Toole's
+place,—temporarily, of course,—I shall be very grateful. It will give me
+time to collect my thoughts, ma'am."
+
+"It will not be necessary, Wade, for you to take on O'Toole's work. I am
+not asking you to perform hard, manual labor. You must not feel that my—"
+
+"Pardon me, madam," interrupted he; "I very much prefer to do some sort of
+regular work, if I may be permitted."
+
+She smiled. "You will find Murray a hard task-master, I am afraid."
+
+He took a long breath, as of relief—or could it have been pleasure? "I
+quite understand that, madam. He is a martinet. Still, I shall not mind."
+The same thought was in the mind of each: he was accustomed to serving a
+hard task-master. "If you don't mind, I shall take O'Toole's place until
+you find some one else. To-morrow I shall move my belongings from the room
+upstairs to O'Toole's room off the furnace-room. Thank—"
+
+"No!" she exclaimed. "You are not to do that. Keep your old room, Wade.
+I—I cannot allow you to go down there. Mr. Thorpe would never forgive me
+if he knew that—" He lifted his eyes at the sudden pause and saw that she
+was very white. Was she too afraid of ghosts?
+
+"It's very good of you," he said after a moment. "I shall do as you wish
+in everything, and I shall let you know the instant I find another place."
+He cleared his throat. "I fear, madam, that in the confusion of the past
+few days I have failed to express to you my sympathy. I assure you the
+oversight was not—"
+
+She was looking straight into his eyes. "Thank you, Wade," she interrupted
+coldly. "Your own grief would be sufficient excuse, if any were necessary.
+If you will send Murray to me I will tell him that you have withdrawn your
+notice and will stay on in O'Toole's place. It will not be necessary for
+him to engage another furnace-man at present."
+
+"No, ma'am," said Wade, and then added without a trace of irony in his
+voice: "At any rate not until cold weather sets in."
+
+And so it was that this man solved the greatest problem that had ever
+confronted him. He went down into the cellars to take orders from the man
+he hated, from the man who would snarl at him and curse him and humiliate
+him to the bitter end, and all because he knew that he could not begin
+life over again. He wanted to be ordered about, he wanted to be snarled at
+by an overbearing task-master. It simplified everything. He would never be
+called upon to think for himself. Thorpe or Murray, what mattered which of
+them was in command? It was all the same to him. His dignity passed, away
+with the passing of his career as a "Man," and he rejoiced in the belief
+that he had successfully evaded the responsibilities that threatened him
+up to the moment he entered the presence of the mistress of the house. He
+was no longer without a purpose in life. He would not have to go out and
+be independent.
+
+Toward the end of the second week Templeton Thorpe's will was read by
+Judge Hollenback in the presence of "the family." There had been some
+delay on account of Braden Thorpe's absence from the city. No one knew
+where he had gone, nor was he ever to explain his sudden departure
+immediately after the funeral. He simply disappeared from his hotel,
+without so much as a bag or a change of linen in his possession, so far as
+one could know. At the end of ten days he returned as suddenly and as
+casually as he had gone away, but very much improved in appearance. The
+strange pallor had left his cheeks and his eyes had lost the heavy, tired
+expression.
+
+At first he flatly refused to go down for the reading of the will. He was
+not a beneficiary under the new instrument and he could see no reason for
+his attendance. Anne alone understood. The old vow not to enter the house
+while she was its mistress,—that was the reason. He was now in a position
+to revive that vow and to order his actions accordingly.
+
+She drooped a little at the thought of it. From time to time she caught
+herself wishing that she could devise some means of punishing him, only to
+berate herself afterward for the selfishness that inspired the thought.
+
+Still, why shouldn't he come there now? She was the same now that she was
+before her marriage took place,—a year older, that was all, but no less
+desirable. That was the one thing she could not understand in him. She
+could understand his disgust, his scorn, his rage, but she could not see
+how it was possible for him to hold out against the qualities that had
+made him love her so deeply before she gave him cause to hate her.
+
+As for the operation that had resulted in the death of her husband, Anne
+had but one way of looking at it. Braden had been forced to operate
+against his will, against his best judgment. He was to be pitied. His
+grandfather had failed in his attempt to corrupt the souls of others in
+his desire for peace, and there remained but the one cowardly alternative:
+the appeal to this man who loved him. In his extremity, he had put upon
+Braden the task of performing a miracle, knowing full well that its
+accomplishment was impossible, that failure was as inevitable as death
+itself.
+
+The thought never entered her mind that in persuading Braden to perform
+this strange act of mercy her husband may have been moved by the sole
+desire to put the final touch to the barrier he had wrought between them.
+The fact that Braden was responsible for his death had no sinister meaning
+for her. It was the same as if he had operated upon a total stranger with
+a like result and with perhaps identical motives.
+
+She kept on saying to herself that she had given up hope of ever regaining
+the love she had lost. She tried to remember just when she had ceased to
+hope. Was it before or after that last conversation took place in the
+library? Hope may have died, but he was alive and she was alive. Then how
+could love be dead?
+
+It was Simmy Dodge who prevailed upon Braden to be present at the reading
+of the will. Simmy was the sort of man who goes about, in the goodness of
+his heart, adjusting matters for other people. He constituted himself in
+this instance, however, as the legal adviser of his old friend and
+companion, and that gave him a certain amount of authority.
+
+"And what's more," he said in arguing with the obdurate Braden, "we'll
+probably have to smash the will, if, as you say, you have been cut off
+without a nickel. You—"
+
+"But I don't want to smash it," protested Braden.
+
+"And why not?" demanded Simmy, in surprise. "You are his only blood
+relation, aren't you? Why the deuce should he leave everything away from
+you? Of course we'll make a fight for it. I've never heard of a more
+outrageous piece of—"
+
+"You don't understand, Simmy," Braden interrupted, suddenly realising that
+his position would be a difficult one to explain, even to this good and
+loyal friend. "We'll drop the matter for the present, at any rate."
+
+"But why should Mr. Thorpe have done this rotten, inconceivable thing to
+you, Brady?" demanded Dodge. "Good Lord, that will won't stand a minute in
+a court of—"
+
+"It will stand so far as I'm concerned," said Braden sharply, and Simmy
+blinked his eyes in bewilderment.
+
+"You wouldn't be fighting Anne, you know," he ventured after a moment,
+assuming that Braden's attitude was due to reluctance in that direction.
+"She is provided for outside the will, she tells me."
+
+"Are you her attorney, Simmy?"
+
+"Yes. That is, the firm represents her, and I'm one of the firm."
+
+"I don't see how you can represent both of us, old chap."
+
+"That's just what I'm trying to get into your head. I couldn't represent
+you if there was to be a fight with Anne. But we can fight these idiotic
+charities, can't we?"
+
+"No," said Braden flatly. "My grandfather's will is to stand just as it
+is, Simmy. I shall not contest for a cent. And so, if you please, there's
+no reason for my going down there to listen to the reading of the thing. I
+know pretty well what the document says. I was in Mr. Thorpe's confidence.
+For your own edification, Simmy, I'll merely say that I have already had
+my share of the estate, and I'm satisfied."
+
+"Still, in common decency, you ought to go down and listen to the reading
+of the will. Judge Hollenback says he will put the thing off until you are
+present, so you might as well go first as last. Be reasonable, Brady. I
+know how you feel toward Anne. I can appreciate your unwillingness to go
+to her house after what happened a year ago. Judge Hollenback declares
+that his letter of instruction from Mr. Thorpe makes it obligatory for him
+to read the document in the presence of his widow and his grandson, and in
+the library of his late home. Otherwise, the thing could have been done in
+Hollenback's offices."
+
+In the end Braden agreed to be present.
+
+When Judge Hollenback smoothed out the far from voluminous looking
+document, readjusted his nose glasses and cleared his throat preparatory
+to reading, the following persons were seated in the big, fire-lit
+library: Anne Thorpe, the widow; Braden Thorpe, the grandson; Mrs.
+Tresslyn, George Tresslyn, Simmy Dodge, Murray, and Wade, the furnace-man.
+The two Tresslyns were there by Anne's request. Late in the day she was
+overcome by the thought of sitting there alone while Braden was being
+dispossessed of all that rightfully belonged to him. She had not intended
+to ask her mother to come down for the reading. Somehow she had felt that
+Mrs. Tresslyn's presence would indicate the consummation of a project that
+had something ignoble about it. She knew that her mother could experience
+no other sensation than that of curiosity in listening to the will. Her
+interest in the affairs of Templeton Thorpe ended with the signing of the
+ante-nuptial contract, supplemented of course by the event which
+satisfactorily terminated the agreement inside of a twelve-month. But
+Anne, practically alone in the world as she now found herself to be, was
+suddenly aware of a great sense of depression. She wanted her mother. She
+wanted some one near who would not look at her with scornful, bitter eyes.
+
+George's presence is to be quickly explained. He had spent the better part
+of the week with Anne, sleeping in the house at her behest. For a week she
+had braved it out alone. Then came the sudden surrender to dread, terror,
+loneliness. The shadows in the halls were grim; the sounds in the night
+were sinister, the stillness that followed them creepy; the servants were
+things that stalked her, and she was afraid—mortally afraid in this home
+that was not hers. She had made up her mind to go away for a long time
+just as soon as everything was settled.
+
+As for the furnace-man, Judge Hollenback had summoned him on his arrival
+at the house. So readily had Wade adapted himself to his new duties that
+he now felt extremely uncomfortable and ill-at-ease in a room that had
+been like home to him for thirty years. He seemed to feel that this was no
+place for the furnace-man, notwithstanding the scouring and polishing
+process that temporarily had restored him to a more exalted office,—for
+once more he was the smug, impeccable valet.
+
+Braden was the last to arrive. He timed his arrival so that there could be
+no possibility of an informal encounter with Anne. She came forward and
+shook hands with him, simply, unaffectedly.
+
+"You have been away," she said, looking straight into his eyes. He was
+conscious of a feeling of relief. He had been living in some dread of what
+he might detect in her eyes. But it was a serene, frank expression that he
+found in them, not a question.
+
+"Yes," he said. "I was tired," he added after a moment.
+
+She hesitated. Then: "I have not seen you, Braden, since—since the twenty-
+first. You have not given me the opportunity to tell you that I know you
+did all that any one could possibly do for Mr. Thorpe. Thank you for
+undertaking the impossible. I am sorry—oh, so sorry,—that you were made to
+suffer. I want you to remember too that it was with my sanction that you
+made the hopeless effort."
+
+He turned cold. The others had heard every word. She had spoken without
+reserve, without the slightest indication of nervousness or compunction.
+The very thing that he feared had come to pass. She had put herself
+definitely on record. He glanced quickly about, searching the faces of the
+other occupants of the room. His gaze fell upon Wade, and rested for a
+second or two. Something told him that Wade's gaze would shift,—and it
+did.
+
+"I did everything, Anne. Thank you for believing in me." That was all. No
+word of sympathy, no mawkish mumbling of regret, no allusion to his own
+loss. He looked again into her eyes, this time in quest of the motive that
+urged her to make this unnecessary declaration. Was there a deeper
+significance to be attached to her readiness to assume responsibility? He
+looked for the light in her eye that would convince him that she was
+taking this stand because of the love she felt for him. He was
+immeasurably relieved to find no secret message there. She had not stooped
+to that, and he was gratified. Her eyes were clouded with concern for him,
+that was all. He was ashamed of himself for the thought,—and afterwards he
+wondered why he should have been ashamed. After all, it was only right
+that she should be sorry for him. He deserved that much from her.
+
+An awkward silence ensued. Simmy Dodge coughed nervously, and then Braden
+advanced to greet Mrs. Tresslyn. She did not rise. Her gloved hand was
+extended and he took it without hesitation.
+
+"It is good to see you again, Braden," she said, with the bland,
+perfunctory parting of the lips that stands for a smile with women of her
+class. He meant nothing to her now.
+
+"Thanks," he said, and moved on to George, who regarded him with some
+intensity for a moment and then gripped his hand heartily. "How are you,
+George?"
+
+"Fine! First stage of regeneration, you know. I'm glad to see you, Brady."
+
+There was such warmth in the repressed tones that Thorpe's hand clasp
+tightened. Tresslyn was still a friend. His interest quickened into a keen
+examination of the young man who had pronounced himself in the first stage
+of regeneration, whatever that may have signified to one of George's type.
+He was startled by the haggard, sick look in the young fellow's face.
+George must have read the other's expression, for he said: "I'm all
+right,—just a little run down. That's natural, I suppose."
+
+"He has a dreadful cold," said Anne, who had overheard. "I can't get him
+to do anything for it."
+
+"Don't you worry about me, Anne," said George stoutly.
+
+"Just the same, you should take care of yourself," said Braden. "Pneumonia
+gets after you big fellows, you know. How are you, Wade? Poor old Wade,
+you must miss my grandfather terribly. You knew him before I was born. It
+seems an age, now that I think of it in that way."
+
+"Thirty-three years, sir," said Wade. "Nearly ten years longer than
+Murray, Mr. Braden, It does seem an age."
+
+The will was not a lengthy document. The reading took no more than three
+minutes, and for another full minute after its conclusion, not a person in
+the room uttered a word. A sort of stupefaction held them all in its
+grip,—that is, all except the old lawyer who was putting away his glasses
+and waiting for the outburst that was sure to follow.
+
+In the first place, Mr. Thorpe remembered Anne. After declaring that she
+had been satisfactorily provided for in a previous document, known to her
+as a contract, he bequeathed to her the house in which she had lived for a
+single year with him. All of its contents went with this bequest. To
+Josiah Wade he left the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars, to Edward
+Murray ten thousand dollars, and to each of the remaining servants in his
+household a sum equal to half of their earnings while in his service.
+There were bequests to his lawyer, his doctor and his secretary, besides
+substantial gifts to persons who could not by any chance have expected
+anything from this grim old man,—such as the friendly doorman at his
+favourite club, and the man who had been delivering newspapers to him for
+a score of years or more, and the old negro bootblack who had attended him
+at the Brevoort in the days before the Italian monopoly set in, and the
+two working-girls who supported the invalid widow of a man who had gone to
+prison and died there after having robbed the Thorpe estate of a great
+many thousands of dollars while acting as a confidential and trusted
+agent.
+
+Then came the astounding disposition of the fortune that had accumulated
+in the time of Templeton Thorpe. There were no bequests outright to
+charity, contrary to all expectations. The listeners were prepared to hear
+of huge gifts to certain institutions and societies known to have been
+favoured by the testator. Various hospitals were looked upon as sure to
+receive splendid endowments, and specific colleges devoted to the
+advancement of medical and surgical science were also regarded as
+inevitable beneficiaries. It was all cut and dried, so far as Judge
+Hollenback's auditors were concerned,—that is to say, prior to the reading
+of the will. True, the old lawyer had declared in the beginning, that the
+present will was drawn and signed on the afternoon of the day before the
+death of Mr. Thorpe, and that a previous instrument to which a codicil had
+been affixed was destroyed in the presence of two witnesses. The
+instrument witnessed by Wade and Murray was the one that had been
+destroyed. This should have aroused uneasiness in the mind of Braden
+Thorpe, if no one else, but he was slow to recognise the significance of
+the change in his grandfather's designs.
+
+With his customary terseness, Templeton Thorpe declared himself to be
+hopelessly ill but of sound mind at the moment of drawing his last will
+and testament, and suffering beyond all human endurance. His condition at
+that moment, and for weeks beforehand, was such that death offered the
+only panacea. He had come to appreciate the curse of a life prolonged
+beyond reason. Therefore, in full possession of all his faculties and
+being now irrevocably converted to the principles of mercy advocated by
+his beloved grandson, Braden Lanier Thorpe, he placed the residue of his
+estate in trust, naming the aforesaid Braden Lanier Thorpe as sole
+trustee, without bond, the entire amount to be utilised and expended by
+him in the promotion of his noble and humane propaganda in relation to the
+fate of the hopelessly afflicted among those creatures fashioned after the
+image of God. The trust was to expire with the death of the said Braden
+Lanier Thorpe, when all funds remaining unused for the purposes herein set
+forth were to go without restriction to the heirs of the said trustee,
+either by bequest or administration.
+
+In so many words, the testator rested in his grandson full power and
+authority to use these funds, amounting to nearly six million dollars, as
+he saw fit in the effort to obtain for the human sufferer the same mercy
+that is extended to the beast of the field, and to make final disposition
+of the estate in his own will. Realising the present hopelessness of an
+attempt to secure legislation of this character, he suggested that first
+of all it would be imperative to prepare the way to such an end by
+creating in the minds of all the peoples of the world a state of common
+sense that could successfully combat and overcome love, sentimentality and
+cowardice! For these three, he pointed out, were the common enemy of
+reason. "And in compensation for the discharge of such duties as may come
+under the requirements of this trusteeship, the aforesaid Braden Lanier
+Thorpe shall receive the fees ordinarily allotted by law and, in addition,
+the salary of twenty-five thousand dollars per annum, until the terms of
+this instrument are fully carried out."
+
+Anne Tresslyn Thorpe was named as executrix of the will.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Simmy Dodge was the first to speak. He was the first to grasp the full
+meaning of this deliberately ambiguous will. His face cleared.
+
+"By Jove!" he exclaimed, without respect for the proprieties. He slapped
+Braden on the back, somewhat enthusiastically. "We sha'n't have to smash
+it, after all. It's the cleverest thing I've ever listened to, old man.
+What a head your grandfather had on his—"
+
+Braden leaped to his feet, his face quivering. "Of course we'll smash it,"
+he stormed. "Do you suppose or imagine for an instant that I will allow
+such a thing as that to stand? Do you—"
+
+"Go slow, Brady, go slow," broke in his excited, self-appointed lawyer.
+"Can't you see through it? Can't you see what he was after? Why, good
+Lord, man, he has made you the principal legatee,—he has actually given
+you _everything_. All this rigmarole about a trust or a foundation or
+whatever you want to call it amounts to absolutely nothing. The money is
+yours to do what you like with as long as you live. You have complete
+control of every dollar of it. No one else has a thing to say about it.
+Why, it's the slickest, soundest will I've—"
+
+"Oh, my God!" groaned Braden, dropping into a chair and covering his face
+with his hands.
+
+Judge Hollenback was smiling benignly. He had drawn the will. He knew that
+it was sound, if not "slick," as Simmy had described it. The three
+Tresslyns leaned forward in their chairs, bewildered, dumbfounded. Their
+gaze was fixed on the shaking figure of Braden Thorpe.
+
+As for Wade, he had sunk helplessly into a chair. A strange, hunted look
+appeared in his eyes. His chin sank lower and lower, and his body
+twitched. He was not caring what happened to Braden Thorpe, he was not
+even thinking about the vast fortune that had been placed at the young
+man's disposal. His soul was sick. In spite of all that he could do to
+prevent it, his gaze went furtively to Murray's rubicund jowl, and then
+shifted to the rapt, eager face of his young mistress. Twenty-five
+thousand dollars! There was no excuse for him now. With all that money he
+could not hope to stay on in service. He was rich. He would have to go out
+into the world and shift for himself. He could not go on 'tending furnace
+for Mrs. Thorpe,—he couldn't take the bread out of some deserving
+wretch's mouth by hanging onto the job with all that money in his
+possession. Mrs. Thorpe would congratulate him on the morrow, and turn him
+out. And no one would tell him where to go,—unless it might be Murray, in
+a fit of anger.
+
+"Mr. Thorpe was not moved by any desire to circumvent certain—perhaps I
+should say that he intended you, Dr. Thorpe, to act in strict accordance
+with the provisions of the will," said Judge Hollenback. "He did not lose
+sight of the fact that he had promised to leave you out of his will
+completely. This money is not yours. It is in your hands as trustee. Mr.
+Dodge is wrong. Your grandfather was very deeply in earnest when he
+authorised the drawing of this instrument. You will discover, on reading
+it carefully and thoughtfully, that he does not give you the right to
+divert any of this money to your own private uses, but clearly says that
+it is to be employed, under your sole direction and as you see fit, for
+the carrying out of your ideas along certain lines. He has left a letter
+for you, Dr. Thorpe, which I have been privileged to read. You will find
+it in this envelope. For the benefit of future beneficiaries under this
+instrument, I may say that he expresses the hope and desire that you will
+not permit the movement to languish after your death. In fact, he
+expressly instructs you to establish during your life time a systematic
+scheme of education by reason of which the world eventually may become
+converted to the ideas which you promulgate and defend. He realised that
+this cannot he brought about in one generation, nor in two, three or four.
+Indeed, he ventures the opinion that two centuries may pass before this
+sound and sensible theory of yours,—the words are his, not mine,—becomes a
+reality. Two centuries, mind you. So, you will see, he does not expect you
+to perform a miracle, Braden. You are to start the ball rolling, so to
+speak, in a definite, well-supported groove, from which there can be no
+deviation. By this will, you are to have free and unhampered use of a vast
+sum of money. He does not bind you in any particular. So much for the
+outward expression of the will. Inversely, however, as you will find by
+reading this letter, you are not so completely free to exercise your own
+discretion. You will find that while he gives to you the undisputed right
+to bequeath this fortune as you may see fit at the expiration of your term
+as trustee—in short, at your death,—he suggests that,—being an honourable
+and conscientious man to his certain knowledge,—you will create a so-
+called foundation for the perpetuation of your ideas—and his, I may add.
+This foundation is to grow out of and to be the real development of the
+trust over which you now have absolute control. But all this, my friend,
+we may discuss later on. The real significance of Mr. Thorpe's will is to
+be found in the faith he reposes in you. He puts you on your honour. He
+entrusts this no inconsiderable fortune to your care. It rests entirely
+with you as to the manner in which it shall be used. If you elect to
+squander it, there is no one to say nay to you. It is expressly stated
+here that the trust comprehends the spread of the doctrines you advocate,
+but it does not pretend to guide or direct you in the handling of the
+funds. Mr. Thorpe trusts you to be governed by the dictates of your own
+honour. I have no hesitancy in saying that I protested against this
+extraordinary way of creating a trust, declaring to him that I thought he
+was doing wrong in placing you in such a position,—that is to say, it was
+wrong of him to put temptation in your way. He was confident, however. In
+fact, he was entirely satisfied with the arrangement. I will admit that at
+the time I had a queer impression that he was chuckling to himself, but of
+course I was wrong. It was merely the quick and difficult breathing of one
+in dire pain. The situation is quite plain, ladies and gentlemen. The will
+is sound. Mr. Dodge has observed,—somewhat hastily I submit,—that he
+believes it will not have to be smashed. He says that the money has been
+left to Dr. Thorpe, and that the trust is a rigmarole, or something of the
+sort. Mr. Dodge is right, after a fashion. If Dr. Thorpe chooses to
+violate his grandfather's staunch belief in his integrity, if he elects to
+disregard the suggestions set down in this letter—which, you must
+understand, is in no sense a legal supplement to the will,—he may justify
+Mr. Dodge's contention that the fortune is his to do with as he pleases."
+He turned to Anne. "I beg to inform you, Mrs. Thorpe, that your duties as
+executrix will not prove onerous. Your late husband left his affairs in
+such shape that there will be absolutely no difficulty in settling the
+estate. It could be done in half an hour, if necessary. Everything is
+ship-shape, as the saying is. I shall be glad to place myself at the
+command of yourself and your attorneys. Have no hesitancy in calling upon
+me."
+
+He waited. No one spoke. Braden was looking at him now. He had recovered
+from his momentary collapse and was now listening intently to the old
+lawyer's words. There was a hard, uncompromising light in his eyes,—a
+sullen prophecy of trouble ahead. After a moment, Judge Hollenback
+construed their silence as an invitation to go on. He liked to talk.
+
+"Our good friend Dodge says that no one else has a thing to say about the
+manner in which the trustee of this vast fund shall disperse his dollars."
+(Here he paused, for it sounded rather good to him.) "Ahem! Now does Mr.
+Dodge really believe what he says? Just a moment, please. I am merely
+formulating—er—I beg pardon, Mrs. Thorpe. You were saying—?"
+
+"I prefer not to act as executrix of the will, Judge Hollenback," said
+Anne dully. "How am I to go about being released from—"
+
+"My dear Mrs. Thorpe, you must believe me when I say that your
+duties,—er—the requirements,—are practically _nil_. Pray do not labour
+under the impression that—"
+
+"It isn't that," said Anne. "I just don't want to serve, that's all. I
+shall refuse."
+
+"My daughter will think the matter over for a few days, Judge Hollenback,"
+said Mrs. Tresslyn suavely. "She _does_ feel, I've no doubt, that it would
+be a tax on her strength and nerves. In a few days, I'm sure, she will
+feel differently." She thought she had sensed Anne's reason for
+hesitating. Mrs. Tresslyn had been speechless with dismay—or perhaps it
+was indignation—up to this moment. She had had a hard fight to control her
+emotions.
+
+"We need not discuss it now, at any rate," said Anne. She found it
+extremely difficult to keep from looking at Braden as she spoke. Something
+told her that he was looking hard at her. She kept her face averted.
+
+"Quite right, quite right," said Judge Hollenback. "I hope you will
+forgive me, Braden, for mentioning your—er—theories,—the theories which
+inspired the somewhat disturbing clause in your grandfather's will. I feel
+that it is my duty to explain my position in the matter. I was opposed to
+the creation of this fund. I tried to make your grandfather see the utter
+fallacy of his—shall we call it whim? Now, I will not put myself in the
+attitude of denying the true humanity of your theory. I daresay it has
+been discussed by physicians for ages. It was my aim to convince your
+grandfather that all the money in the world cannot bring about the result
+you desire. I argued from the legal point of view. There are the insurance
+companies to consider. They will put obstacles in the way of—"
+
+"Pardon me, Judge Hollenback," interrupted Braden steadily. "I do not
+advocate an illegal act. We need not discuss my theories, however. The
+absurdity of the clause in my grandfather's will is as clear to me as it
+is to you. The conditions cannot be carried out. I shall refuse to accept
+this trusteeship."
+
+Judge Hollenback stared. "But, my dear friend, you must accept. What is to
+become of the—er—money if you refuse to act? You can't possibly refuse.
+There is no other provision for the disposition of the estate. He has put
+it squarely up to you. There is no other solution. You may be sure, sir,
+that I do not care what you do with the money, and I fancy no one else
+will undertake to define your—"
+
+"Just the same, sir, I cannot and will not accept," said Braden, finality
+in his tone. "I cannot tell you how shocked, how utterly overwhelmed I am
+by—"
+
+Simmy interrupted him. "I'd suggest, old fellow, that you take Mr.
+Thorpe's letter to your rooms and read it. Take time to think it all out
+for yourself. Don't go off half-cocked like this."
+
+"You at least owe it to yourself and to your grandfather—" began Judge
+Hollenback soothingly, but was cut short by Braden, who arose and turned
+to the door. There he stopped and faced them.
+
+"I'm sorry, Judge Hollenback, but I must ask you to consider the matter
+closed. I shall leave you and Mr. Dodge to find a satisfactory solution.
+In the first place, I am a practising physician and surgeon. I prefer to
+regulate my own life and my life's work. I need not explain to you just
+how deeply I am interested in the saving of human life. That comes first
+with me. My theories, as you call them, come second. I cannot undertake
+the promotion of these theories as a salaried advocate. This is the only
+stupid and impractical thing that my grandfather ever did, I believe. He
+must have known that the terms of the will could not be carried out. Mr.
+Dodge is right. It was his way of leaving the property to me after
+declaring that he would not do so, after adding the codicil annulling the
+bequest intended for me. He broke a solemn compact. Now he has made the
+situation absolutely impossible. I shall not act as trustee of this fund,
+and I shall not use a penny of the fortune 'as I see fit,' Judge
+Hollenback. There must be some other channel into which all this money can
+be diverted without—"
+
+"There is no provision, sir, as I said before," said Judge Hollenback
+testily. "It can only be released by an act of yours. That is clear, quite
+clear."
+
+"Then, I shall find a way," said Braden resolutely. "I shall go into court
+and ask to have the will set aside as—"
+
+"That's it, sir, that's it," came an eager voice from an unexpected
+quarter. Wade was leaning forward in his chair, visibly excited by the
+prospect of relief. "I can testify, sir, that Mr. Thorpe acted
+strangely,—yes, very queerly,—during the past few months. I should say
+that he was of unsound mind." Then, as every eye was upon him, he subsided
+as suddenly as he had begun.
+
+"Shut up!" whispered Murray, murderously, bending over, the better to
+penetrate his ear. "You damn fool!"
+
+Judge Hollenback indulged in a frosty smile. "Mr. Wade is evidently
+bewildered." Then, turning to Braden, he said: "Mr. Dodge's advice is
+excellent. Think the matter over for a few days and then come to see me."
+
+"I am placed in a most unhappy position," said Braden, with dignity. "Mrs.
+Thorpe appreciates my feelings, I am sure. She was led to believe, as I
+was, that my grandfather had left me out of his will. Such a thing as this
+subterfuge never crossed my mind, nor hers. I wish to assure her, in the
+presence of all of you, that I was as completely ignorant of all this—"
+
+"I know it, Braden," interrupted Anne. "I know that you had nothing to do
+with it. And for that reason I feel that you should accept the trust that
+is—"
+
+"Anne!" cried out Braden, incredulously. "You cannot mean it. You—"
+
+"I do mean it," she said firmly. "It is your greatest justification. You
+should carry out his wishes. He does not leave you the money outright. You
+may do as you please with it, to be sure, but why should you agree with
+Simmy that it may be converted solely to your own private uses? Why should
+you feel that he intended you to have it all for your own? Does he not set
+forth explicitly just what uses it is to be put to by you during your
+lifetime? He puts you on your honour. He knew what he was about when he
+overruled Judge Hollenback's objection. He knew that this trust would be
+safe in your hands. Yes, Braden, he knew that you would not spend a penny
+of it on yourself."
+
+He was staring at her blankly. Mrs. Tresslyn was speaking now, but it is
+doubtful if he heard a word that she uttered. He was intent only upon the
+study of Anne's warm, excited face.
+
+"Mr. Thorpe assured me a little over a year ago," began Anne's mother, a
+hard light in her eyes, "that it was his determination to leave his
+grandson out of his will altogether. It was his desire,—or at least, so he
+said,—to remove from Braden's path every obstacle that might interfere
+with his becoming a great man and a credit to his name. By that, of
+course, he meant money unearned. He told me that most of his fortune was
+to go to Charitable and Scientific Institutions. I had his solemn word of
+honour that his grandson was to be in no sense a beneficiary under his
+will. He—"
+
+"Please, mother!" broke in Anne, a look of real shame in her eyes.
+
+"And so how are we to reconcile this present foolishness with his very
+laudable display of commonsense of a year ago?" went on Mrs. Tresslyn, the
+red spot darkening in her cheek. "He played fast and loose with all of us.
+I agree with Braden Thorpe. There was treachery in—"
+
+"Ahem!" coughed Judge Hollenback so loudly and so pointedly that the angry
+sentence was not completed.
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn was furious. She had been cheated, and Anne had been
+cheated. The old wretch had played a trick on all of them! He had bought
+Anne for two millions, and now _nothing_,—absolutely _nothing_ was to go
+to Charity! Braden was seven times a millionaire instead of a poor but
+ambitious seeker after fame!
+
+In the few minutes that followed Judge Hollenback's cough, she had time to
+restore her equanimity to its habitual elevation. It had, for once,
+stooped perilously near to catastrophe.
+
+Meanwhile, her son George had arrived at a conclusion. He arose from his
+chair with a wry face and a half uttered groan, and crossed over to
+Braden's side. Strange, fierce pains were shooting through all the joints
+and muscles of his body.
+
+"See here, Brady, I'd like to ask a question, if you don't mind."
+
+"I don't mind. What is it?"
+
+"Would you have operated on Mr. Thorpe if you'd known what was in this
+will?"
+
+Braden hesitated, but only for a second. "Yes. My grandfather asked me to
+operate. There was nothing else for me to do under the circumstances."
+
+"That's just what I thought. Well, all I've got to say is that so long as
+you respected his wishes while he was alive it seems pretty rotten in you
+to take the stand you're taking now."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"He virtually asked you to make an end of him. You both knew there was no
+chance. You operated and he died. I'm speaking plainly, you see. No one
+blames you. You did your best. But it seems to me that if you could do
+what he asked you to do at that time, you ought to do what he asks of you
+now. As long as you were willing to respect his last wish alive, you ought
+not to stir up a rumpus over his first wish dead."
+
+The two men were looking hard into each other's eyes. George's voice shook
+a little, but not from fear or nervousness. He was shivering with the
+chill that precedes fever.
+
+Anne drew a step or two nearer. She laid an appealing hand on George's
+arm.
+
+"I think I understand you, George," said Thorpe slowly. "You are telling
+me that you believe I took my grandfather's life by design. You—"
+
+"No," said George quietly, "I'm not saying that, Brady. I'm saying that
+you owe as much to him now as you did when he was alive. If you had not
+consented to operate, this will would never have been drawn. If you had
+refused, the first will would have been read to-day. I guess you are
+entirely responsible for the making of this new will, and that's why I say
+you ought to be man enough to stand by your work."
+
+Thorpe turned away. His face was very white and his hands were clenched.
+
+Anne shook her brother's arm. "Why,—oh, why did you say that to him,
+George? Why—"
+
+"Because it ought to have been said to him," said George coolly; "that's
+why. He made old Mr. Thorpe see things from his point of view, and it's up
+to him to shoulder the responsibility."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn spoke to Murray. "Is there any reason why we shouldn't have
+tea, Murray? Serve it, please." She turned to Judge Hollenback. "I don't
+see any sense in trying to settle all the little details to-day, do you,
+Judge Hollenback? We've done all that it is possible to do to-day. The
+will has been read. That is all we came for, I fancy. I confess that I am
+astonished by several of the provisions, but the more I think of them the
+less unreasonable they seem to be. We have nothing to quarrel about. Every
+one appears to be satisfied except Dr. Thorpe, so let us have tea—and
+peace. Sit down, Braden. You can't decide the question to-day. It has too
+many angles."
+
+Braden lifted his head. "Thank you, Mrs. Tresslyn; I shall not wait. At
+what hour may I see you to-morrow, Judge Hollenback?"
+
+"Name your own hour, Braden."
+
+"Three o'clock," said Braden succinctly. He turned to George. "No hard
+feelings, George, on my part."
+
+"Nor on mine," said George, extending his hand. "It's just my way of
+looking at things lately. No offence was meant, Brady. I'm too fond of you
+for that."
+
+"You've given me something to think about," said Thorpe. He bowed stiffly
+to the ladies and Judge Hollenback. George stepped out into the hall with
+him.
+
+"I intend to stick pretty close to Anne, Brady," he said with marked
+deliberation. "She needs me just now."
+
+Thorpe started. "I don't get your meaning, George."
+
+"There will be talk, old man,—talk about you and Anne. Do you get it now?"
+
+"Good heaven! I—yes, I suppose there will be all sorts of conjectures,"
+groaned Braden bitterly. "People remember too well, George. You may rest
+easy, however. I shall not give them any cause to talk. As for coming to
+this house again, I can tell you frankly that as I now feel I could almost
+make a vow never to enter its doors again as long as I live."
+
+"Well, I just thought I'd let you know how I stand in the matter," said
+George. "I'm going to try to look out for Anne, if she'll let me. Good-
+bye, Brady. I hope you'll count me as one of your friends, if you think
+I'm worth while. I'm—I'm going to make a fresh start, you know." He
+grinned, and his teeth chattered.
+
+"You'd better go to bed," said Braden, looking at him closely. "Tell Anne
+that I said so, and—you'd better let a doctor look you over, too."
+
+"I haven't much use for doctors," said George, shaking his head. "I wanted
+to kill you last winter when you cut poor little Lutie—Oh, but of course
+you understand. I was kind of dotty then, I guess. So long."
+
+Simmy came to the library door and called out: "I'll be with you in a
+second, Brady. I'm going your way, and I don't care which way you're
+going. My car's outside." Re-entering the room, Mr. Dodge walked up to
+Anne and actually shook her as a parent would shake a child. "Don't be
+silly about it, Anne. You've got to accept the house. He left it to you
+without—"
+
+"I cannot live up to the conditions. The will says that I must continue to
+make this place my home, that I must reside here for—Oh! I cannot do it,
+that's all, Simmy. I would go mad, living here. There is no use discussing
+the matter. I will not take the house."
+
+"'Pon my soul," sighed Judge Hollenback, "the poor man seems to have made
+a mess of everything. He can't even give his property away. No one will
+take it. Braden refuses, Mrs. Thorpe refuses, Wade is dissatisfied—Ah,
+yes, Murray seems to be pleased. One lump, Mrs. Tresslyn, and a little
+cream. Now as for Wade's attitude—by the way, where is the man?"
+
+Wade was at the lower end of the hall, speaking earnestly in a tremulous
+undertone to Braden Thorpe.
+
+"Yes, sir, Mr. Braden, there's only one thing to do. We've got to have it
+set aside, declared void. You may count on me, sir. I'll swear to his
+actions. Crazy as a loon, sir,—? crazy as a loon."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+Two days later George Tresslyn staggered weakly into Simmy Dodge's
+apartment. He was not alone. A stalwart porter from an adjacent apartment
+building was supporting him when Dodge's man opened the door.
+
+"This Mr. Dodge?" demanded the porter.
+
+"Mr. Dodge's man. Mr. Dodge isn't at 'ome," said Baffly quickly.
+
+"All right," said the porter, pushing past the man and leading George
+toward a couch he had observed from the open door. "This ain't no jag,
+Johnny. He's sick. Out of his head. Batty. Say, don't you know him? Am I
+in wrong? He said he wanted to come here to—"
+
+George had tossed himself, sprawling, upon the long couch. His eyes were
+closed and his breathing was stertorous.
+
+"Of course I know him. What—what is the matter with him? My Gawd, man,
+don't tell me he is dying. What do you mean, bringing 'im 'ere? There will
+be a coroner's hinquest and—"
+
+"You better get a doctor first. Waste no time. Get the coroner afterward
+if you have to. You tell Mr. Dodge that he came into our place half an
+hour ago and said he wanted to go up to his friend's apartment. He was
+clean gone then. He wanted to lick the head porter for saying Mr. Dodge
+didn't live in the buildin'. We saw in a minute that he hadn't been
+drinkin'. Just as we was about to call an ambulance, a gentleman in our
+building came along and reckonised him as young Mr. Tresslyn. Friend of
+Mr. Dodge's. That was enough for us. So I brings him around. Now it's up
+to you guys to look after him. Off his nut. My name's Jenks. Tell it to
+Mr. Dodge, will you? And git a doctor quick. Put your hand here on his
+head. Aw, he won't bite you! Put it _here_. Ever feel anything as hot as
+that?"
+
+Baffly arose to the occasion. "Mr. Dodge 'as been hexpecting Mr. Tresslyn.
+He will also be hexpecting you, Mr. Jenks, at six o'clock this evening."
+
+"All right," said Mr. Jenks.
+
+Baffly put George Tresslyn to bed and then called up Mr. Dodge's favourite
+club. He never called up the office except as a last resort. If Mr. Dodge
+wasn't to be found at any one of his nine clubs, or at certain
+restaurants, it was then time for calling up the office. Mr. Dodge was not
+in the club, but he had left word that if any one called him up he could
+be found at his office.
+
+"Put him to bed and send for Dr. Thorpe," was Simmy's order a few minutes
+later.
+
+"I've put 'im to bed, sir."
+
+"Out of his head, you say?"
+
+"I said, 'Put 'im to bed, sir,'" shouted Baffly.
+
+"I'll be home in half-an-hour, Baffly."
+
+Simmy called up Anne Thorpe at once and reported that George had been
+found and was now in his rooms. He would call up later on. She was not to
+worry,—and good-bye!
+
+It appears that George Tresslyn had been missing from the house near
+Washington Square since seven o'clock on the previous evening. At that
+hour he left his bed, to which Dr. Bates had ordered him, and made off in
+the cold, sleety night, delirious with the fierce fever that was consuming
+him. As soon as his plight was discovered, Anne called up Simmy Dodge and
+begged him to go out in search of her sick, and now irresponsible brother.
+In his delirium, George repeatedly had muttered threats against Braden
+Thorpe for the cruel and inhuman "slashing of the most beautiful, the most
+perfect body in all the world," "marking for life the sweetest girl that
+God ever let live"; and that he would have to account to him for "the
+dirty work he had done."
+
+Acting on this hint, Simmy at once looked up Braden Thorpe and put him on
+his guard. Thorpe laughed at his fears, and promptly joined in the search
+for the sick man. They thought of Lutie, of course, and hurried to her
+small apartment. She was not at home. Her maidservant said that she did
+not know where she could be found. Mrs. Tresslyn had gone out alone at
+half-past seven, to dine with friends, but had left no instructions,—a
+most unusual omission, according to the young woman.
+
+It was a raw, gusty night. A fine, penetrating sleet cut the face, and the
+sharp wind drove straight to the marrow of the most warmly clad. Tresslyn
+was wandering about the streets, witless yet dominated by a great purpose,
+racked with pain and blind with fever, insufficiently protected against
+the gale that met his big body as he trudged doggedly into it in quest
+of—what? He had left Anne's home without overcoat, gloves or muffler. His
+fever-struck brain was filled with a resolve that deprived him of all
+regard for personal comfort or safety. He was out in the storm, looking
+for some one, and whether love or hate was in his heart, no man could
+tell.
+
+All night long Dodge and Thorpe looked for him, aided in their search by
+three or four private detectives who were put on the case at midnight. At
+one o'clock the two friends reappeared at Lutie's apartment, summoned
+there by the detective who had been left on guard with instructions to
+notify them when she returned.
+
+It was from the miserable, conscience-stricken Lutie that they had an
+account of George's adventures earlier in the night. White-faced, scared
+and despairing, she poured out her unhappy tale of triumph over love and
+pity. The thing that she had longed for, though secretly dreaded, had
+finally come to pass. She had seen her former husband in the gutter,
+degraded, besotted, thoroughly reduced to the level from which nothing
+save her own loyal, loving efforts could lift him. She had dreamed of a
+complete conquest of caste, and the remaking of a man. She had dreamed of
+the day when she could pick up from the discarded of humanity this
+splendid, misused bit of rubbish and in triumph claim it as her own, to
+revive, to rebuild, to make over through the sure and simple processes of
+love! This had been Lutie Tresslyn's notion of revenge!
+
+She saw George at eight o'clock that night. As she stood in the shelter of
+the small canvas awning protecting the entrance to the building in which
+she lived, waiting for the taxi to pull up, her eyes searched the swirling
+shadows up and down the street. She never failed to look for the distant
+and usually indistinct figure of _her man_. It had become a habit with
+her. The chauffeur had got down to crank his machine, and there was
+promise of a no inconsiderable delay in getting the cold engine started.
+She was on the point of returning to the shelter of the hallway, when she
+caught sight of a tall, shambling figure crossing the street obliquely,
+and at once recognised George Tresslyn. He was staggering. The light from
+the entrance revealed his white, convulsed face. Her heart sank. She had
+never seen him so drunk, so disgusting as this! The taxi-cab was twenty or
+thirty feet away. She would have to cross a wet, exposed space in order to
+reach it before George could come up with her. She realised with a quiver
+of alarm that it was the first time in all these months that he had
+ventured to approach her. It was clear that he now meant to accost her,—he
+might even contemplate violence! She wanted to run, but her feet refused
+to obey the impulse. Fascinated she watched the unsteady figure lurching
+toward her, and the white face growing more and more distinct and
+forbidding as it came out of the darkness. Suddenly she was released from
+the spell. Like a flash she darted toward the taxi-cab. From behind came a
+hoarse cry.
+
+"Lutie! For God's sake—"
+
+"Quick!" she cried out to the driver. "Open the door! Be quick!"
+
+The engine was throbbing. She looked back. George was supporting himself
+by clinging to one of the awning rods. His legs seemed to be crumbling
+beneath his weight. Her heart smote her. He had no overcoat. It was a bare
+hand that gripped the iron rod and a bare hand that was held out toward
+her. Thank heaven, he had stopped there! He was not coming on.
+
+"Lutie! Oh, Lutie!" came almost in a wail from his lips. Then he began to
+cry out something incoherent, maudlin, unintelligible.
+
+"Never mind him," said the driver reassuringly. "Just a souse. Wants to
+make a touch, madam. Streets are full of 'em these cold nights. He won't
+bone you while I'm here. Where to?" He was holding the door open.
+
+Lutie hesitated. Long afterwards she recalled the strange impulse that
+came so near to sending her back to the side of the man who cried out to
+her from the depths of a bottomless pit. Something whispered from her
+heart that _now was her time_,—_now_! And then came the loud cry from her
+brain, drowning the timid voice of the merciful: "Wait! Wait! Not now! To-
+morrow!"
+
+And while she stood there, uncertain, held inactive by the two warring
+emotions, George turned and staggered away, reeling, and crying out in a
+queer, raucous voice.
+
+"They'll get him," said the driver.
+
+"Who will get him?" cried Lutie, shrilly.
+
+"The police. He—"
+
+"No! No! It must not be _that_. That's not what I want,—do you hear,
+driver? Not that. He must not be locked up—Oh!" George had collapsed. His
+knees went from under him and he was half-prostrate on the curb. "Oh! He
+has fallen! He has hurt himself! Go and see, driver. Go at once." She
+forgot the sleet and the wind, and stood there wide-eyed and terrified
+while the man shuffled forward to investigate. She hated him for stirring
+the fallen man with his foot, and she hated him when he shook him
+violently with his hands.
+
+"I better call a cop," said the man. "He's pretty full. He'll freeze if—I
+know how it is, ma'am. I used to hit it up a bit myself. I—"
+
+"Listen!" cried Lutie, regaining the shelter of the awning, where she
+stopped in great perturbation. "Listen; you must put him in your cab and
+take him somewhere. I will pay you. Here! Here is five dollars. Don't mind
+me. I will get another taxi. Be quick! There is a policeman coming. I see
+him,—there by—"
+
+"Gee! I don't know where to take him. I—"
+
+"You can't leave him lying there in the gutter, man," she cried fiercely.
+"The gutter! The gutter! My God, what a thing to happen to—"
+
+"Here! Get up, you!" shouted the driver, shaking George's shoulder. "Come
+along, old feller. I'll look out for you. Gee! He weighs a ton."
+
+Tresslyn was mumbling, half audibly, and made little or no effort to help
+his unwilling benefactor, who literally dragged him to his feet.
+
+"Is—is he hurt?" cried Lutie, from the doorway.
+
+"No. Plain souse."
+
+"Where will you take him?"
+
+The man reflected. "It wouldn't be right to take him to his home. Maybe
+he's got a wife. These fellers beat 'em up when they get like this."
+
+"A wife? Beat them up—oh, you don't know what you are saying. He—"
+
+At this juncture George straightened out his powerful figure, shook off
+the Samaritan and with a loud, inarticulate cry rushed off down the
+street. The driver looked after the retreating figure in utter amazement.
+
+"By Gosh! Why—why; he ain't any more drunk than I am," he gasped. "Well,
+can you beat that? All bunk! It beats thunder what these panhandlers will
+do to pick up a dime or two. He was—say, he saw the cop, that's what it
+was. Lord, look at him go!"
+
+Tresslyn was racing wildly toward the corner. Lutie, aghast at this
+disgusting exhibition of trickery, watched the flying figure of her
+husband. She never knew that she was clinging to the arm of the driver.
+She only knew that her heart seemed to have turned to lead. As he turned
+the corner and disappeared from view, she found her voice and it seemed
+that it was not her own. He had swerved widely and almost lost his feet as
+he made the turn. He _was_ drunk! Her heart leaped with joy. He _was_
+drunk. He had not tried to trick her.
+
+"Go after him!" she cried out, shaking the man in her agitation. "Find
+him! Don't let him get away. I—"
+
+But the policeman was at her elbow.
+
+"What's the matter here?" he demanded.
+
+"Panhandler," said the driver succinctly.
+
+"Just a poor wretch who—who wanted enough for—for more drink, I suppose,"
+said Lutie, warily. Her heart was beating violently. She was immensely
+relieved by the policeman's amiable grunt. It signified that the matter
+was closed so far as he was concerned. He politely assisted her into the
+taxi-cab and repeated her tremulous directions to the driver. As the
+machine chortled off through the deserted street, she peered through the
+little window at the back. Her apprehensions faded. The officer was
+standing where she had left him.
+
+Then came Thorpe and Simmy Dodge in the dead hour of night and she learned
+that she had turned away from him when he was desperately ill. Sick and
+tortured, he had come to her and she had denied him. She looked so
+crushed, so pathetic that the two men undertook to convince her that she
+had nothing to fear,—they would protect her from George!
+
+She smiled wanly, shook her head, and confessed that she did not want to
+be protected against him. She wanted to surrender. She wanted _him_ to
+protect her. Suddenly she was transformed. She sprang to her feet and
+faced them, and she was resolute. Her voice rang with determination, her
+lips no longer drooped and trembled, and the appeal was gone from her
+eyes.
+
+"He must be found, Simmy," she said imperatively. "Find him and bring him
+here to me. This is his home. I want him here."
+
+The two men went out again, half an hour later, to scour the town for
+George Tresslyn. They were forced to use every argument at their command
+to convince her that it would be highly improper, in more ways than one,
+to bring the sick man to her apartment. She submitted in the end, but they
+were bound by a promise to take him to a hospital and not to the house of
+either his mother or his sister.
+
+"He belongs to me," she said simply. "You must do what I tell you to do.
+They do not want him. I do. When you have found him, call me up, Simmy,
+and I will come. I shall not go to bed. Thank you,—both of you,—for—for—"
+She turned away as her voice broke. After a moment she faced them again.
+"And you will take charge of him, Dr. Thorpe?" she said. "I shall hold you
+to your promise. There is no one that I trust so much as I do you."
+
+Thorpe was with the sick man when Simmy arrived at his apartment. George
+was rolling and tossing and moaning in his delirium, and the doctor's face
+was grave.
+
+"Pneumonia," he said. "Bad, too,—devilish bad. He cannot be moved, Simmy."
+
+Simmy did not blink an eye. "Then right here he stays," he said heartily.
+"Baffly, we shall have two nurses here for a while,—and we may also have
+to put up a young lady relative of Mr. Tresslyn's. Get the rooms ready. By
+Jove, Brady, he—he looks frightfully ill, doesn't he?" His voice dropped
+to a whisper. "Is he likely to—to—you know!"
+
+"I think you'd better send for Dr. Bates," said Braden gravely. "I believe
+his mother and sister will be better satisfied if you have him in at once,
+Simmy."
+
+"But Lutie expressly—"
+
+"I shall do all that I can to redeem my promise to that poor little girl,
+but we must consider Anne and Mrs. Tresslyn. They may not have the same
+confidence in me that Lutie has. I shall insist on having Dr. Bates called
+in."
+
+"All right, if you insist. But—but you'll stick around, won't you, Brady?"
+
+Thorpe nodded his head. He was watching the sick man's face very closely.
+
+Half an hour later, Lutie Tresslyn and Anne Thorpe entered the elevator on
+the first floor of the building and went up together to the apartment of
+Simeon Dodge. Anne had lifted her veil,—a feature in her smart tribute to
+convention,—and her lovely features were revealed to the cast-off sister-
+in-law. For an instant they stared hard at each other. Then Anne,
+recovering from her surprise, bowed gravely and held out her hand.
+
+"May we not forget for a little while?" she said.
+
+Lutie shook her head. "I can't take your hand—not yet, Mrs. Thorpe. It was
+against me once, and I am afraid it will be against me again." She
+detected the faintest trace of a smile at the corners of Anne's mouth. A
+fine line appeared between her eyes. This fine lady could still afford to
+laugh at her! "I am going up to take care of my husband, Mrs. Thorpe," she
+added, a note of defiance in her voice. She was surprised to see the
+smile,—a gentle one it was,—deepen in Anne's eyes.
+
+"That is why I suggested that we try to forget," she said.
+
+Lutie started. "You—you do not intend to object to my—" she began, and
+stopped short, her eyes searching Anne's for the answer to the uncompleted
+question.
+
+"I am not your enemy," said Anne quietly. She hesitated and then lowered
+the hand that was extended to push the button beside Simmy's door. "Before
+we go in, I think we would better understand each other, Lutie." She had
+never called the girl by her Christian name before. "I have nothing to
+apologise for. When you And George were married I did not care a pin, one
+way or the other. You meant nothing to me, and I am afraid that George
+meant but little more. I resented the fact that my mother had to give you
+a large sum of money. It was money that I could have used very nicely
+myself. Now that I look back upon it, I am frank to confess that therein
+lies the real secret of my animosity toward you. It didn't in the least
+matter to me whether George married you, or my mother's chambermaid, or
+the finest lady in the land. You will be surprised to learn that I looked
+upon myself as the one who was being very badly treated at the time. To
+put it rather plainly, I thought you were getting from my mother a great
+deal more than you were worth. Forgive me for speaking so frankly, but it
+is best that you should understand how I felt in those days so that you
+may credit me with sincerity now. I shall never admit that you deserved
+the thirty thousand dollars you took from us, but I now say that you were
+entitled to keep the man you loved and married. I don't care how unworthy
+you may have seemed to us, you should not have been compelled to take
+money for something you could not sell—the enduring love of that sick boy
+in there. My mother couldn't buy it, and you couldn't sell it. You have it
+still and always will have it, Lutie. I am glad that you have come to take
+care of him. You spoke of him as 'my husband' a moment ago. You were
+right. He _is_ your husband. I, for one, shall not oppose you in anything
+you may see fit to do. We do not appear to have been capable of preserving
+what you gave back to us—for better or for worse, if you please,—so I
+fancy we'd better turn the job over to you. I hope it isn't too late. I
+love my brother now. I suppose I have always loved him but I overlooked
+the fact in concentrating my affection on some one else,—and that some one
+was myself. You see I do not spare myself, Lutie, but you are not to
+assume that I am ashamed of the Anne Tresslyn who was. I petted and
+coddled her for years and I alone made her what she was, so I shall not
+turn against her now. There is a great deal of the old Anne in me still
+and I coddle her as much as ever. But I've found out something new about
+her that I never suspected before, and it is this new quality that speaks
+to you now. I ask you to try to forget, Lutie."
+
+Throughout this long speech Lutie's eyes never left those of the tall
+young woman in black.
+
+"Why do you call me Lutie?" she asked.
+
+"Because it is my brother's name for you," said Anne.
+
+Lutie lowered her eyes for an instant. A sharp struggle was taking place
+within her. She had failed to see in Anne's eyes the expression that would
+have made compromise impossible: the look of condescension. Instead, there
+was an anxious look there that could not be mistaken. She was in earnest.
+She could be trusted. The old barrier was coming down. But even as her
+lips parted to utter the words that Anne wanted to hear, suspicion
+intervened and Lutie's sore, tried heart cried out:
+
+"You have come here to _claim_ him! You expect me to stand aside and let
+you take him—"
+
+"No, no! He is yours. I _did_ come to help him, to nurse him, to be a real
+sister to him, but—that was before I knew that you would come."
+
+"I am sorry I spoke as I did," said Lutie, with a little catch in her
+voice. "I—I hope that we may become friends, Mrs. Thorpe. If that should
+come to pass, I—am sure that I could forget."
+
+"And you will allow me to help—all that I can?"
+
+"Yes." Then quickly, jealously: "But he _belongs_ to me. You must
+understand that, Mrs. Thorpe."
+
+Anne drew closer and whispered in sudden admiration. "You are really a
+wonderful person, Lutie Carnahan. How _can_ you be so fine after all that
+you have endured?"
+
+"I suppose it is because I too happen to love myself," said Lutie drily,
+and turned to press the button. "We are all alike." Anne laid a hand upon
+her arm.
+
+"Wait. You will meet my mother here. She has been notified. She has not
+forgiven you." There was a note of uneasiness in her voice.
+
+Lutie looked at her in surprise. "And what has that to do with it?" she
+demanded.
+
+Then they entered the apartment together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+George Tresslyn pulled through.
+
+He was a very sick man, and he wanted to die. That is to say, he wanted to
+die up to a certain point and then he very much wanted to live. Coming out
+of his delirium one day he made a most incredible discovery, and at that
+very instant entered upon a dream that was never to end. He saw Lutie
+sitting at his bedside and he knew that it must be a dream. As she did not
+fade away then, nor in all the mysterious days that followed, he came to
+the conclusion that if he ever did wake up it would be the most horrible
+thing that could happen to him. It was a most grateful and satisfying
+dream. It included a wonderful period of convalescence, a delightful and
+ever-increasing appetite, a painless return voyage over a road that had
+been full of suffering on the way out, a fantastic experience in the
+matter of legs that wouldn't work and wobbled fearfully, a constant but
+properly subdued desire to sing and whistle—oh, it was a glorious dream
+that George was having!
+
+For six weeks he was the uninvited guest of Simmy Dodge. Three of those
+weeks were terrifying to poor Simmy, and three abounded with the greatest
+joy he had ever known, for when George was safely round the corner and on
+the road to recovery, the hospitality of Simmy Dodge expanded to hitherto
+untried dimensions. Relieved of the weight that had pressed them down to
+an inconceivable depth, Simmy's spirits popped upward with an
+effervescence so violent that there was absolutely no containing them.
+They flowed all over the place. All day long and most of the night they
+were active. He hated to go to bed for fear of missing an opportunity to
+do something to make everybody happy and comfortable, and he was up so
+early in the morning that if he hadn't been in his own house some one
+would have sent him back to bed with a reprimand.
+
+He revelled in the establishment of a large though necessarily
+disconnected family circle. The nurses, the doctors, the extra servants,
+Anne's maid, Anne herself, the indomitable Lutie, and, on occasions, the
+impressive Mrs. Tresslyn,—all of these went to make up Simmy's family.
+
+The nurses were politely domineering: they told him what he could do and
+what he could not do, and he obeyed them with a cheerfulness that must
+have shamed them. The doctors put all manner of restrictions upon him; the
+servants neglected to whisper when discussing their grievances among
+themselves; his French poodle was banished because canine hospitality was
+not one of the niceties, and furthermore it was most annoying to recent
+acquaintances engaged in balancing well-filled cups of broth in transit;
+his own luxurious bath-room was seized, his bed-chambers invested, his
+cosy living-room turned into a rest room which every one who happened to
+be disengaged by day or night felt free to inhabit. He had no privacy
+except that which was to be found in the little back bedroom into which he
+was summarily shunted when the occupation began, and he wasn't sure of
+being entirely at home there. At any time he expected a command to
+evacuate in favour of an extra nurse or a doctor's assistant. But through
+all of it, he shone like a gem of purest ray.
+
+At the outset he realised that his apartment, commodious when reckoned as
+a bachelor's abode, was entirely inadequate when it came to accommodating
+a company of persons who were not and never could be bachelors. Lutie
+refused to leave George; and Anne, after a day or two, came to keep her
+company. It was then that Simmy began to reveal signs of rare strategical
+ability. He invaded the small apartment of his neighbour beyond the
+elevator and struck a bargain with him. The neighbour and his wife rented
+the apartment to him furnished for an indefinite period and went to Europe
+on the bonus that Simmy paid. Here Anne and her maid were housed, and here
+also Mrs. Tresslyn spent a few nights out of each week.
+
+He studied the nurses' charts with an avid interest. He knew all there was
+to know about temperature, respiration and nourishment; and developing a
+sudden sort of lordly understanding therefrom, he harangued the engineer
+about the steam heat, he cautioned the superintendent about noises, and he
+held many futile arguments with God about the weather. Something told him
+a dozen times a day, however, that he was in the way, that he was "a
+regular Marceline," and that if Brady Thorpe had any sense at all he would
+order him out of the house!
+
+He began to resent the speed with which George's convalescence was marked.
+He was enjoying himself so immensely in his new environment that he hated
+to think of going back to the old and hitherto perfect order of existence.
+When Braden Thorpe and Dr. Bates declared one day that George would be
+able to go home in a week or ten days, he experienced a surprising and
+absolutely inexplicable sinking of the heart. He tried to persuade them
+that it would be a mistake to send the poor fellow out inside of a month
+or six weeks. That was the trouble with doctors, he said: they haven't any
+sense. Suppose, he argued, that George were to catch a cold—why, the damp,
+spring weather would raise the dickens—Anne's house was a drafty old barn
+of a place, improperly heated,—and any fool could see that if George _did_
+have a relapse it would go mighty hard with him. Subsequently he sounded
+the nurses, severally, on the advisability of abandoning the poor, weak
+young fellow before he was safely out of the woods, and the nurses, who
+were tired of the case, informed him that the way George was eating he
+soon would be as robust as a dock hand. An appeal to Mrs. Tresslyn brought
+a certain degree of hope. That lady declared, quite bitterly, that
+inasmuch as her son did not seem inclined to return to _her_ home he might
+do a great deal worse than to remain where he was, and it was some time
+before Simmy grasped the full significance of the remark.
+
+He remembered hearing Lutie say that she was going to take George home
+with her as soon as he was able to be moved!
+
+What was he to do with himself after all these people were gone? For the
+first time in his life he really knew what it meant to have a home, and
+now it was to be broken up. He saw more of his home in the five or six
+weeks that George was there than he had seen of it all told in years. He
+stayed at home instead of going to the club or the theatre or to stupid
+dinner parties. He hadn't the faintest idea that a place where a fellow
+did nothing but sleep and eat bacon and eggs could be looked upon as a
+"home." He had thought of it only as an apartment, or "diggings." Now he
+loved his home and everything that was in it. How he would miss the
+stealthy blue linen nurses, and the expressionless doctors, and the odour
+of broths and soups, and the scent of roses, and the swish of petticoats,
+and the elevating presence of pretty women, and the fragrance of them, and
+the sweet chatter of them—Oh my, oh me-oh-my! If George would only get
+well in a more leisurely fashion!
+
+Certain interesting events, each having considerable bearing upon the
+lives of the various persons presented in this narrative, are to be
+chronicled, but as briefly as possible so that we may get on to the
+results.
+
+Naturally one turns first to the patient himself. He was the magnet that
+drew the various opposing forces together and, in a way, united them in a
+common enterprise, and therefore is of first importance. For days his life
+hung in the balance. Most of the time he was completely out of his head.
+It has been remarked that he thought himself to be dreaming when he first
+beheld Lutie at his bedside, and it now becomes necessary to report an
+entirely different sensation when he came to realise that he was being
+attended by Dr. Thorpe. The instant he discovered Lutie he manifested an
+immense desire to live, and it was this desire that sustained a fearful
+shock when his fever-free eyes looked up into the face of his doctor.
+Terror filled his soul. Almost his first rational words were in the form
+of a half-whispered question: "For God's sake, can't I get well? Is—is it
+hopeless?"
+
+Braden was never to forget the anguish in the sick man's eyes, nor the
+sagging of his limp body as if all of his remaining strength had given way
+before the ghastly fear that assailed him. Thorpe understood. He knew what
+it was that flashed through George's brain in that first moment of
+intelligence. His heart sank. Was it always to be like this? Were people
+to live in dread of him? His voice was husky as he leaned over and laid
+his hand gently upon the damp brow of the invalid.
+
+"You are going to get well, George. You will be as sound as a rock in no
+time at all. Trust me, old fellow,—and don't worry."
+
+"But that's what they always say," whispered George, peering straight into
+the other's eyes. "Doctors always say that. What are you doing here,
+Brady? Why have you been called in to—"
+
+"Hush! You're all right. Don't get excited. I have been with you from the
+start. Ask Lutie—or Anne. They will tell you that you are all right."
+
+"I don't want to die," whined George. "I only want a fair chance. Give me
+a chance, Brady. I'll show you that I—"
+
+"My God!" fell in agonised tones from Thorpe's lips, and he turned away as
+one condemned.
+
+When Lutie and Anne came into the room soon afterward, they found George
+in a state of great distress. He clutched Lutie's hand in his strong
+fingers and drew her down close to him so that he could whisper furtively
+in her ear.
+
+"Don't let any one convince you that I haven't a chance to get well,
+Lutie. Don't let him talk you into anything like that. I won't give my
+consent, Lutie,—I swear to God I won't. He can't do it without my consent.
+I've just got to get well. I can do it if I get half a chance. I depend on
+you to stand out against any—"
+
+Lutie managed to quiet him. Thorpe had gone at once to her with the story
+and she was prepared. For a long time she talked to the frightened boy,
+and at last he sank back with a weak smile on his lips, confidence
+partially restored.
+
+Anne stood at the head of the bed, out of his range of vision. Her heart
+was cold within her. It ached for the other man who suffered and could not
+cry out. _This_ was but the beginning for him.
+
+In a day or two George's attitude toward Braden underwent a complete
+change, but all the warmth of his enthusiastic devotion could not drive
+out the chill that had entered Thorpe's heart on that never-to-be-
+forgotten morning.
+
+Then there were the frequent and unavoidable meetings of Anne and her
+former lover. For the better part of three weeks Thorpe occupied a room in
+Simmy's apartment, to be constantly near his one and only patient. He
+suffered no pecuniary loss in devoting all of his time and energy to young
+Tresslyn. Ostensibly he was in full charge of the case, but in reality he
+deferred to the opinions and advice of Dr. Bates, who came once a day. He
+had the good sense to appreciate his own lack of experience, and thereby
+earned the respect and confidence of the old practitioner.
+
+It was quite natural that he and Anne should come in contact with each
+other. They met in the sick-room, in the drawing-room, and frequently at
+table. There were times during the darkest hours in George's illness when
+they stood side by side in the watches of the night. But not once in all
+those days was there a word bearing on their own peculiar relationship
+uttered by either of them. It was plain that she had the greatest
+confidence in him, and he came, ere long, to regard her as a dependable
+and inspired help. Unlike the distracted, remorseful Lutie, she was the
+source of great inspiration to those who worked over the sick man. Thorpe
+marvelled at first and then fell into the way of resorting to her for
+support and encouragement. He had discovered that she was not playing a
+game.
+
+Templeton Thorpe's amazing will was not mentioned by either of them,
+although each knew that the subject lay uppermost in the mind of the
+other. The newspapers printed columns about the instrument. Reporters who
+laid in wait for Braden Thorpe, however, obtained no satisfaction. He had
+nothing to say. The same reporters fell upon Anne and wanted to know when
+she expected to start proceedings to have the will set aside. They seemed
+astonished to hear that there was to be no contest on her part. She could
+not tell them anything about the plans or intentions of Dr. Thorpe, and
+she had no opinion as to the ultimate effect of the "Foundation" upon the
+Constitution of the United States or the laws of God!
+
+As a matter of fact, she was more eager than any one else to know the
+stand that Braden intended to take on the all-absorbing question.
+Notwithstanding her peculiar position as executrix of the will under which
+the conditions were created, she could not bring herself to the point of
+discussing the salient feature of the document with him. And so there the
+matter stood, unmentioned by either of them, and absolutely unsettled so
+far as the man most deeply involved was concerned.
+
+Then came the day when Thorpe announced that it was no longer necessary
+for him to impose upon Simmy's hospitality, and that he was returning that
+evening to his hotel. George was out of danger. It was then that he said
+to Anne:
+
+"You have been wonderful, Anne. I want to thank you for what you have done
+to help me. You might have made the situation impossible, but—well, you
+didn't, that's all. I am glad that you and that poor little woman in there
+have become such good friends. You can do a great deal to help her—and
+George. She is a brick, Anne. You will not lose anything by standing by
+her now. As I said before, you can always reach me by telephone if
+anything goes wrong, and I'll drop in every morning to—"
+
+"I want you to know, Braden, that I firmly believe you saved George for
+us. I shall not try to thank you, however. You did your duty, of course.
+We will let Lutie weep on your neck, if you don't mind, and you may take
+my gratitude for granted." There was a slightly satirical note in her
+voice.
+
+His figure stiffened. "I don't want to be thanked," he said,—"not even by
+Lutie. You must know that I did not come into this case from choice. But
+when Lutie insisted I—well, there was nothing else to do."
+
+"Would you have come if I had asked you?" she inquired, and was very much
+surprised at herself.
+
+"No," he answered. "You would have had no reason for selecting me, and I
+would have told you as much. And to that I would have added a very good
+reason why you shouldn't."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I may as well be frank, Anne. People,—our own friends,—are bound to
+discuss us pretty thoroughly from now on. No matter how well we may
+understand each other and the situation, the rest of the world will not
+understand, simply because it doesn't want to do so. It will wait,—rather
+impatiently, I fear,—for the chance to say, 'I told you so.' Of course,
+you are sensible enough to have thought of all this, still I don't see why
+I shouldn't speak of it to you."
+
+"Has it occurred to you that our friends may be justified in thinking that
+I _did_ call upon you to take this case, Braden?" she asked quietly.
+
+He frowned. "I daresay that is true. I hadn't thought of it—"
+
+"They also believe that I summoned you to take charge of my husband a few
+weeks ago. No one has advised the world to the contrary. And now that you
+are here, in the same house with me, what do you suppose they will say?" A
+queer little smile played about her lips, a smile of diffidence and
+apology.
+
+He gave her a quick look of inquiry. "Surely no one will—"
+
+"They will say the Widow Thorpe's devotion to her brother was not her only
+excuse for moving into good old Simmy's apartment, and they will also say
+that Dr. Thorpe must be singularly without practice in order to give all
+of his time to a solitary case."
+
+"Oh, for heaven's sake, Anne," he cried impatiently, "give people credit
+for having a little commonsense and charity. They—"
+
+"I don't give them credit for having anything of the kind," she said
+coolly, "when it comes to discussing their fellow creatures. I hope you
+are not distressed, Braden. As you have said, people will discuss us. We
+cannot escape the consequences of being more or less public institutions,
+you and I. Of course they will talk about our being here together. I knew
+that when I came here three weeks ago."
+
+"Then why did you come?" he demanded.
+
+She replied with a directness that shamed him. "Because I do not want
+people to talk about Lutie. That is one reason. Another is that I wanted
+to do my share in looking after George." Suddenly her eyes narrowed.
+"You—you do not imagine that I—I—you couldn't have thought _that_ of me,
+Braden."
+
+He shook his head slowly. "If I had thought _that_, Anne, I should not
+have told you a moment ago that you were wonderful," he said.
+
+Few women would have been content to let it go at that. It is the
+prerogative of woman to expect more than a crumb, and, if it is not
+forthcoming from others, to gratify the appetite by feeding confidently
+upon herself. In this instance, Anne might have indulged herself in the
+comfort of a few tremulous words of self-justification, and even though
+they drew nothing in exchange, she would at least have had the pleasure of
+uttering them, and the additional satisfaction of knowing that he would
+have to listen to them, whether or no. But she was far too intelligent for
+that. Her good sense overcame the feminine craving; she surprised him by
+holding her tongue.
+
+He waited for a second or two and then said: "Good-bye. I shall drop in
+to-morrow to see George."
+
+She held out her hand. "He swears by you," she said, with a smile.
+
+For the first time in more than a year, their hands touched. Up to this
+moment there had not been the remotest evidence of an inclination on the
+part of either to bridge the chasm that lay between them. The handclasp
+was firm but perfunctory. She had herself under perfect control. It is of
+importance to note, however, that later on she pressed her hand to her
+lips, and that there were many times during the day when she looked at it
+as if it were something unreal and apart from her own physical being.
+
+"Thank heaven he doesn't feel toward me as he did last week," he said
+fervently. "I shall never get over that awful moment. I shall never forget
+the look of despair that—"
+
+"I know," she interrupted. "I saw it too. But it is gone now, so why make
+a ghost of it? Don't let it haunt you, Braden."
+
+"It is easy to say that I shouldn't let it—"
+
+"If you are going to begin your life's work by admitting that you are
+thin-skinned, you'll not get very far, my friend," she said seriously.
+"Good-bye."
+
+She smiled faintly as she turned away. He was never quite sure whether it
+was encouragement or mockery that lay in her dark eyes when she favoured
+him with that parting glance. He stood motionless until she disappeared
+through the door that opened into the room where George was lying; his
+eyes followed her slender, graceful figure until she was gone from sight.
+His thoughts leaped backward to the time when he had held that lovely,
+throbbing, responsive body close in his arms, to the time when he had
+kissed those, sensitive lips and had found warmth and passion in them, to
+the time when he had drunk in the delicate perfume of her hair and the
+seductive fragrance of her body. That same slender, adorable body had been
+pressed close to his, and he had trembled under the enchantment it held.
+
+He went away plagued and puzzled by an annoying question that kept on
+repeating itself without answer; was it in his power now to rouse the old
+flame in her blood, to revive the tender fires that once consumed her
+senses when he caressed her? Would she be proof against him if he set out
+to reconquer? She seemed so serene, so sure of herself. Was it a pose or
+had love really died within her?
+
+By no means the least important of the happenings in Simmy's house was the
+short but decisive contest that took place between Lutie and Mrs.
+Tresslyn. They met first in the sick-room, and the shock was entirely one-
+sided. It was George's mother who sustained it. She had not expected to
+find the despised "outcast" there. For once her admirable self-control was
+near to being shattered. If she had been permitted to exercise the right
+of speech at that crucial moment, she would have committed the
+irretrievable error of denouncing the brazen creature in the presence of
+disinterested persons. Afterwards she thanked her lucky stars for the
+circumstances which compelled her to remain angrily passive, for she was
+soon to realise what such an outburst would have brought upon her head.
+
+She took it out on Anne, as if Anne were wholly to blame for the outrage.
+Anne had the temerity,—the insolence, Mrs. Tresslyn called it,—to advise
+her to make the best of a situation that could not be helped. She held
+forth at some length for her daughter's benefit about "common decency,"
+and was further shocked by Anne's complacency.
+
+"I think she's behaving with uncommon decency," said Anne. "It isn't every
+one who would turn the other cheek like this. Let her alone. She's the
+best thing that can happen to George."
+
+"My dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Tresslyn, aghast. "Of course, I shall not come
+to this apartment while she is here. That is out of the question."
+
+"Inasmuch as Lutie was here first and means to stay, I am afraid you will
+have to reconsider that decision, mother,—provided you want to be near
+George."
+
+"Did you speak of her as 'Lutie'?" demanded Mrs. Tresslyn, staring.
+
+"I don't know what else to call her," said Anne.
+
+"Simeon Dodge will appreciate my feelings,—my position—"
+
+"Simmy is very much on her side, so I'd advise you to steer clear of him,"
+said Anne impatiently. "Now, mother dear, don't upset things here. Don't
+make a fuss. Don't—"
+
+"A fuss?" cried her mother, trying hard not to believe her ears.
+
+"Don't make it any harder for poor old Simmy. He is in for a rough time of
+it. Tresslyns everywhere! It isn't a lovely prospect, you know. He will be
+fed up with us before—And, mother, don't overlook the fact that George is
+very ill. He may not pull through. He—"
+
+"Of course he will get well. He's as strong as an ox. Don't be silly."
+
+The next day she and Lutie met in the library and had it out,—briefly, as
+I said before, but with astounding clarity. Mrs. Tresslyn swept into the
+library at four in the afternoon, coming direct from her home, where, as
+she afterwards felt called upon to explain in self-defence, the telephone
+was aggravatingly out of order,—and that was why she hadn't called up to
+inquire!—(It is so often the case when one really wants to use the stupid
+thing!) She was on the point of entering the sick-room when Lutie came up
+from behind.
+
+"I'm afraid you can't go in just now, Mrs. Tresslyn," she said, firmly and
+yet courteously.
+
+George's mother started as if stung. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and her tone was
+so declaratory that it was not necessary to add the unspoken—"it's _you_,
+is it?"
+
+"He is asleep," said Lutie gently. "They won't even allow _me_ to go in."
+
+This was too much for Mrs. Tresslyn. She transfixed the slight, tired-eyed
+young woman with a look that would have chilled any one else to the
+bone—the high-bred look that never fails to put the lowly in their places.
+
+"Indeed," she said, with infinite irony in her voice. "This is Miss
+Carnahan, I believe?" She lifted her lorgnon as a further aid to
+inspection.
+
+"I am the person you have always spoken of as Miss Carnahan," said Lutie
+calmly. Throughout the brief period in which she had been legally the wife
+of George Tresslyn, Lutie was never anything but Miss Carnahan to her
+mother-in-law. Mrs. Tresslyn very carefully forbore giving her daughter-
+in-law a respectable name. "I was afraid you might have forgotten me."
+
+"You will forgive me if I confess that I have tried very hard to forget
+you, Miss Carnahan," said the older woman.
+
+"It isn't my fault that you haven't been able to do so," said Lutie.
+"Please! you are not to go in." Mrs. Tresslyn's hand was turning the door-
+knob.
+
+"I fear you are forgetting who I am," said she coldly.
+
+"Oh, I know you're his mother, and all that," said Lutie, breathlessly. "I
+do not question your right to be with your son. That isn't the point. The
+nurse has ordered your daughter and me out of the room for awhile. It is
+the first wink of sleep he has had in heaven knows how long. So you cannot
+go in and disturb him, Mrs. Tresslyn."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn's hand fell away from the knob. For a moment she regarded
+the tense, agitated girl in silence.
+
+"Has it occurred to you to feel—if you can feel at all—that you may not be
+wanted here, Miss Carnahan?" she said, deliberately cruel. She towered
+above her adversary.
+
+"Will you be kind enough to come away from the door?" said Lutie, wholly
+unimpressed. "It isn't very thick, and the sound of voices may penetrate—"
+
+"Upon my soul!" exclaimed Mrs. Tresslyn, staring. "Do you presume to—"
+
+"Not quite so loud, if you please. Come over here if you want to talk to
+me, Mrs. Tresslyn. Nurse's orders, not mine. I don't in the least mind
+what you say to me, or what you call me, or anything, but I do entreat you
+to think of George."
+
+Greatly to her own surprise, Mrs. Tresslyn moved away from the door, and,
+blaming herself inwardly for the physical treachery that impelled her to
+do so, sat down abruptly in a chair on the opposite side of the room,
+quite as far removed from the door as even Lutie could have desired.
+
+Lutie did not sit down. She came over and stood before the woman who had
+once driven her out. Her face was white and her eyes were heavy from loss
+of sleep, but her voice was as clear and sharp as a bell.
+
+"We may as well understand each other, Mrs. Tresslyn," she said quietly.
+"Or, perhaps I'd better say that you may as well understand me. I still
+believe myself to be George's wife. A South Dakota divorce may be all
+right so far as the law is concerned, but it will not amount to
+_that_"—she snapped her fingers—"when George and I conclude to set it
+aside. I went out to that God-forsaken little town and stayed there for
+nearly a year, eating my heart out until I realised that it wasn't at all
+appetising. I lived up to my bargain, however. I made it my place of
+residence and I got my decree. I tore that hateful piece of paper up last
+night before I came here. You paid me thirty thousand dollars to give
+George up, and he allowed you to do it. Now I have just this to say, Mrs.
+Tresslyn: if George gets well, and I pray to God that he may, I am going
+back to him, and I don't care whether we go through the form of marrying
+all over again or not. He is my husband. I am his wife. There never was an
+honest cause for divorce in our case. He wasn't as brave as I'd have liked
+him to be in those days, but neither was I. If I had been as brave as I am
+now, George wouldn't be lying in there a wreck and a failure. You may take
+it into your head to ask why I am here. Well, now you know. I'm here to
+take care of my husband."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn's steady, uncompromising gaze never left the face of the
+speaker. When Lutie paused after that final declaration, she waited a
+moment for her to resume.
+
+"There is, of course," said she levelly, "the possibility that my son may
+not get well."
+
+Lutie's eyes narrowed. "You mean that you'd rather see him die than—"
+
+"Miss Carnahan, I am compelled to speak brutally to you. I paid you to
+give up my son. You took the money I proffered and the divorce I arranged
+for. You agreed to—"
+
+"Just a moment, please. I took the money and—and _got out_ in order to
+give George a chance to marry some one else and be happy. That was what
+you wanted, and what _you_ promised me. You promised me that if I gave him
+up he would find some one else more worthy, that he would forget me and be
+happy, and that I would be forgotten inside of six months. Well, none of
+these things has happened. He hasn't found any one else, he still loves
+me, and he isn't happy. I am going back on my bargain, Mrs. Tresslyn,
+because you haven't carried out your part of it. If you think it was easy
+for me to give him up when I did, you are very much mistaken. But that
+wouldn't interest you, so I'll say no more about it. We'll come down to
+the present, if you don't mind, and see where we stand; George needs me
+now, but no more than he has needed me all along. I intend to stick to him
+like a leech from this time on, Mrs. Tresslyn. You had your chance to make
+_your_ kind of a man out of him, and I guess you'll admit that you failed.
+Well, I'm going to begin where you were content to leave off. You treated
+me like a dog, and God knows you've treated George but little better,
+although perhaps you didn't know what you were doing to him. He is down
+and out. You didn't expect things to turn out as they have. You thought
+I'd be the one to go to the devil. Now I'll put it up to you squarely. I
+still have the thirty thousand you gave me. It is nicely invested. I have
+lived comfortably on the income. A few years ago I sold George to you for
+that amount. Well, I'll buy him back from you to-morrow."
+
+"Buy my son from me?" gasped Mrs. Tresslyn.
+
+"You made it a business proposition three years ago, so I'll do the same
+now. I want to be fair and square with you. I'm going to take him back in
+any event, but I shall be a great deal better satisfied if you will let me
+pay for him."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn had recovered herself by this time. She gave the younger
+woman a frosty smile.
+
+"And I suppose you will expect to get him at a considerably reduced
+price," she said sarcastically, "in view of the fact that he is damaged
+goods."
+
+"You shall have back every penny, Mrs. Tresslyn," said Lutie, with
+dignity.
+
+"How ingenuous you are. Do you really believe that I will _sell_ my son to
+you?"
+
+"I sold him to you," said the other, stubbornly.
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn arose. "I think we would better bring this interview to an
+end, Miss Carnahan. I shall spare you the opinion I have formed of you
+in—"
+
+"Just as you please, Mrs. Tresslyn," said Lutie calmly. "We'll consider
+the matter closed. George comes back to me at my own price. I—"
+
+"My son shall never marry you!" burst out Mrs. Tresslyn, furiously.
+
+Lutie smiled. "It's good to see you mad, Mrs. Tresslyn. It proves that you
+are like other people, after all. Give yourself a chance, and you'll find
+it just as easy to be glad as it is to be mad, now that you've let go of
+yourself a little bit."
+
+"You are insufferable! Be good enough to stand aside. I am going in to my
+son. He—"
+
+"If you are so vitally interested in him, how does it happen that you wait
+until four o'clock in the afternoon to come around to inquire about him?
+I've been here on the job since last night—and so has your daughter. But
+you? Where have you been all this time, Mrs. Tresslyn?"
+
+"God in heaven!" gasped Mrs. Tresslyn, otherwise speechless.
+
+"If I had a son I'd be with him day and night at—"
+
+"The telephone was out of order," began Mrs. Tresslyn before she could
+produce the power to check the impulse to justify herself in the eyes of
+this brazen tormentor.
+
+"Indeed?" said Lutie politely.
+
+"My son shall never marry you," repeated the other, helplessly.
+
+"Well," began Lutie slowly, a bright spot in each cheek, "all I have to
+say is that he will be extremely unfair to your grandchildren, Mrs.
+Tresslyn, if he doesn't."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+A ground-floor window in an apartment building in Madison Avenue, north of
+Fifty-ninth street, displayed in calm black lettering the name "Dr. Braden
+L. Thorpe, M.D." On the panel of a door just inside the main entrance
+there was a bit of gold-leaf information to the effect that office hours
+were from 9 to 10 A.M. and from 2 to 4 P.M. There was a reception room and
+a consultation room in the suite. The one was quite as cheerless and
+uninviting as any other reception room of its kind, and the other
+possessed as many of the strange, terrifying and more or less
+misunderstood devices for the prolongation of uncertainty in the minds of
+the uneasy. During office-hours there was also a doctor there. Nothing was
+missing from this properly placarded and admirably equipped
+office,—nothing at all except the patients!
+
+About the time that George Tresslyn fared forth into the world again,
+Thorpe hung out his shingle and sat himself down under his own gates to
+wait for the unwary. But no one came. The lame, the halt and even the
+blind had visions that were not to be dissipated by anything so trivial as
+a neat little sign in an office window. The name of Braden Thorpe was on
+the lips of every one. It was mentioned, not with horror or disgust, but
+as one speaks of the exalted genius whose cure for tuberculosis has
+failed, or of the man who found the North Pole by advertising in the
+newspapers, or of the books of Henry James. He was a person to steer clear
+of, that was all.
+
+Every newspaper in the country discussed him editorially, paragraphically,
+and as an article of news. For weeks after the death of Templeton Thorpe
+and the publication of his will, not a day passed in which Braden Thorpe's
+outlandish assault upon civilisation failed to receive its country-wide
+attention in the press. And when editorial writers, medical sharps, legal
+experts and grateful reporters failed to avail themselves of the full
+measure of space set apart for their gluttony, ubiquitous "Constant
+Reader" rushed into print under many aliases and enjoyed himself as never
+before.
+
+In the face of all this uproar, brought about by the posthumous utterance
+of old Templeton Thorpe, Braden had the courage,—or the temerity, if that
+is a truer word,—to put his name in a window and invite further attention
+to himself.
+
+The world, without going into the matter any deeper than it usually does,
+assumed that he who entered the office of Dr. Thorpe would never come out
+of it alive!
+
+The fact that Thorpe advocated something that could not conceivably become
+a reality short of two centuries made no impression on the world and his
+family. Dr. Thorpe believed that it was best to put sufferers out of their
+misery, and that was all there was to be said about the matter so far as
+Mr. Citizen was concerned.
+
+It would appear, therefore, that all of Templeton Thorpe's ideas, hopes
+and plans concerning the future of his grandson were to be shattered by
+his own lack of judgment and foresight. Without intending to do so he had
+deprived the young man of all that had been given him in the way of
+education, training and character. Young Thorpe might have lived down or
+surmounted the prejudice that his own revolutionary utterances created,
+but he could never overcome the stupendous obstacle that now lay in his
+path.
+
+If Mr. Thorpe had hoped to create, or believed sincerely that it was
+possible to create, a force capable of overpowering the natural instincts
+of man, he had set for himself a task that could have but one result so
+far as the present was concerned, and it was in the present that Braden
+Thorpe lived, very far removed from the future that Mr. Thorpe appeared to
+be seeing from a point close by as he lay on his death-bed. He had
+completely destroyed the present usefulness of his grandson. He had put a
+blight upon him, and now he was sleeping peacefully where mockery could
+not reach him nor reason hold him to account.
+
+The letter that the old man left for his grandson's guidance was an
+affectionate apology, very skilfully worded, for having, in a way, left
+the bulk of his fortune to the natural heir instead of to the great,
+consuming public. True, he did not put this in so many words, but it was
+obvious to the young man, if not to others who saw and read, that he was
+very clear in his mind as to the real purport and intention of the clause
+covering the foundation. He was careful to avoid the slightest expression
+that might have been seized upon by the young man as evidence of treachery
+on his part in view of the solemn promise he had made to leave to him no
+portion of his estate. On the surface, this letter was a simple, direct
+appeal to Braden to abide by the terms of the will, and to consider the
+trust as sacred in spite of the absence of restrictions. To Braden, there
+was but one real meaning to the will: the property was his to have, hold
+or dispose of as he saw fit. He was at liberty either to use every dollar
+of it in carrying out the expressed sentiments of the testator, or to sit
+back luxuriously and console himself with the thought that nothing was
+really expected of him.
+
+The Foundation that received such wide-spread notice, and brought down
+upon his head, not the wrath but the ridicule of his fellow beings, was
+not to serve in any sense as a memorial to the man who provided the money
+with which the work was to be carried on. As a matter of fact, old
+Templeton Thorpe took very good care to stipulate plainly that it was not
+to be employed to any such end. He forbade the use of his name in any
+capacity except as one of the _supporters_ of the movement. The whole
+world rose up at first and heaped anathemas on the name of Templeton
+Thorpe, and then, swiftly recovering its amiable tolerance of fools,
+forgot the dead and took its pleasure in "steering clear of the man who
+was left to hold the bag of gold," as some of the paragraphers would have
+it.
+
+The people forgot old Templeton, and they also became a bit hazy about the
+cardinal principle of the Foundation, much as they forget other disasters,
+but they did not forget to look upon Braden Thorpe as a menace to mankind.
+
+And so it was that after two months of waiting, he closed his office for
+the summer and disappeared from the city. He had not treated a solitary
+patient, nor had he been called in consultation by a single surgeon of his
+acquaintance, although many of them professed friendship for and
+confidence in him.
+
+Six weeks later Simmy Dodge located his friend in a small coast town in
+Maine, practically out of the reach of tourists and not at all accessible
+to motorists. He had taken board and lodging with a needy villager who was
+still honest, and there he sat and brooded over the curse that his own
+intelligence had laid upon him. He had been there for a month or more
+before he lifted his head, figuratively speaking, to look at the world
+again,—and he found it still bright and sparkling despite his desire to
+have it otherwise in order that he might be recompensed for his mood. Then
+it was that he wrote to Simmy Dodge, asking him to sell the furnishings
+and appliances in his office, sublet the rooms, and send to him as soon as
+possible the proceeds of the sale. He confessed frankly and in his
+straightforward way that he was hard up and needed the money!
+
+Now, it should be remembered that Braden Thorpe had very little means of
+his own, a small income from his mother's estate being all that he
+possessed. He had been dependent upon his grandfather up to the day he
+died. Years had been spent in preparing him for the personal achievements
+that were to make him famous and rich by his own hand. Splendid ability
+and unquestioned earning power were the result of Templeton Thorpe's faith
+in the last of his race. But nothing was to come of it. His ability
+remained but his earning power was gone. He was like a splendid engine
+from which the motive power has been shut off.
+
+For weeks after leaving New York he had seen the world blackly through
+eyes that grasped no perspective. But he was young, he was made of the
+flesh that fights, and the spirit that will not down. He looked up from
+the black view that had held his attention so long, and smiled. It was not
+a gay smile but one in which there was defiant humour. After all, why
+shouldn't he smile? These villagers smiled cheerfully, and what had they
+in their narrow lives to cause them to see the world brightly? He was no
+worse off than they. If they could be content to live outside the world,
+why shouldn't he be as they? He was big and strong and young. The fellows
+who went out to sea in the fishing boats were no stronger, no better than
+he. He could do the things that they were doing, and they sang while they
+went to and from their work.
+
+It was the reviving spirit in him that opened his eyes to the lowly joys
+surrounding him. He found himself thinking with surprising interest that
+he could do what these men were doing and do it well, and after all what
+more can be expected of a man than that he should do some one thing well?
+He did not realise at the time that this small, mean ambition to surpass
+these bold fishermen was nothing less than the resurrection of dead hopes.
+
+And so, when Simmy Dodge walked in upon him one day, expecting to find a
+beaten, discouraged skulker, he was confronted by a sun-browned, bare-
+armed, bright-eyed warrior whose smile was that of the man who never
+laughs,—the grim smile of him who thinks.
+
+The lines in his face had deepened under the influence of sun and wind;
+there was a new, almost unnatural ruggedness about the man Simmy had seen
+less than two months before. The cheeks had the appearance of being sunken
+and there was an even firmer look to the strong chin and jaws than in the
+so recent past. Simmy looked at this new, hardy face and wondered whether
+two months in the rough world would do as much in proportion for his own
+self-despised countenance.
+
+Thorpe had been up since five o'clock in the morning. For two weeks he had
+started off every morning at that hour with his landlord for the
+timberlands above the town, where they spent the day hewing out the sills
+and beams for a new boat-house. Unskilled at such labor, his duties were
+not those of the practised workman, but rather those of the "handy man"
+upon whom falls the most arduous tasks as a rule. Thorpe's sinews were
+strained to the utmost in handling the long, unwieldy trunks of the fallen
+trees; his hands were blistered and his legs bruised, but the splendid
+muscles were no longer sore, nor was he so fatigued at day's-end that he
+could have "dropped in his tracks" right joyfully,—as he had felt like
+doing in the first week of his toiling.
+
+"Well, I'll be jiggered," said Simmy, still holding Thorpe's hand as he
+backed away from him the better to take in this new and strange creature
+in overalls. Thorpe and his grizzled host had just come down from the
+woods with a load of pine logs, and had found the trim, immaculate little
+New Yorker waiting for them at the breakwater, directed thither by the
+housewife in the winding lane that was called High Street. "By the way, is
+your name Thorpe?" he added quizzically.
+
+"Yep," said the graduate of three great universities, gripping the little
+man's hand a trifle harder. "All that is left of me is named Thorpe,
+Simmy."
+
+"Have you—hired out as a—Good Lord, Brady, you're not as hard up as all
+that, are you?" Simmy's face was bleak with concern.
+
+"I'm doing it for the fun of the thing," said Thorpe. "Next week I'm going
+out with the boats. I say, Simmy, have you a cigarette about your person?
+I haven't had a—"
+
+Half an hour later, Simmy was seated in the cool little front porch with
+its screen of vines, the scent of the sea filling his sensitive nostrils,
+and he was drinking buttermilk.
+
+"Now, see here, Brady, it's all damned tommyrot," he was saying,—and he
+had said something of the kind several times before in the course of their
+earnest conversation. "There's just one course open to you, and that's the
+right one. You've got to come back to New York and look people in the eye
+and tell 'em to go to Gehenna if they don't like what you're doing. You
+can't go on living like this, no matter how much you love it now. You're
+not cut out for this sort of thing. Lordy, if I was as big and brutal
+looking as you are at this minute I'd stand up for myself against—"
+
+"But you will not understand," repeated Thorpe doggedly. "If my
+attainments, as you call them, are to be of no value to me in helping
+mankind, what is there left for me to do but this? Didn't I have enough of
+it in those horrible two months down there to prove to me that they hate
+me? They—"
+
+"You weren't so thin skinned as all this when you were writing those
+inspired articles of yours, were you? Confound you, Brady, you invited all
+of this, you brought it down upon your head with all that nonsense
+about—why, it was you who converted old Templeton Thorpe and here you are
+running away like a 'white-head.' Haven't you any back-bone?"
+
+"That's all very well, Simmy, but of what value is a back-bone in a case
+like mine? If I had ten back-bones I couldn't compel people to come to me
+for treatment or advice. They are afraid of me. I am a doctor, a surgeon,
+a friend to all men. But if they will not believe that I am their friend,
+how can I be of service to them?"
+
+"You'll get patients, and plenty of 'em too, if you'll just hang on and
+wait. They'll come to know that you wouldn't kill a cockroach if you could
+help it. You'll—what's the matter?" He broke off suddenly with this sharp
+question. A marked pallor had come over Thorpe's sunburnt face.
+
+"Nothing—nothing at all," muttered the other. "The heat up there in the
+woods—"
+
+"You must look out for that, old boy," said Simmy anxiously. "Go slow.
+You're only a city feller, as they'd say up here. What a God-forsaken
+place it is! Not more than two hundred miles from Boston and yet I was a
+whole day getting here."
+
+"It is peaceful, Simmy," said Thorpe.
+
+"I grant you that, by Jove. A fellow could walk in the middle of the
+street here for a solid year without being hit by an automobile. But as I
+was saying, you can make a place for yourself—"
+
+"I should starve, old fellow. You forget that I am a poor man."
+
+"Rats! You've got twenty-five thousand dollars a year, if you'll only be
+sensible. There isn't another man in the United States who would be as
+finicky about it as you are, no matter how full of ideals and principles
+he may be stuffed."
+
+Thorpe looked up suddenly. His jaw was set hard and firm once more. "Don't
+you know what people would say about me if I were to operate and the
+patient died?—as some of them do, you know. They would say that I did it
+deliberately. I couldn't afford to lose in a single instance, Simmy. I
+couldn't take the chance that other surgeons are compelled to take in a
+great many cases. One failure would be sufficient. One—"
+
+"See here, you've just got to look at things squarely, Braden. You owe
+something to your grandfather if not to yourself. He left all that money
+for a certain, definite purpose. You can't chuck it. You've got to come to
+taw. You say that he took this means of leaving the money to you, that the
+trust thing is all piffle, and all that sort of thing. Well, suppose that
+it is true, what kind of a fool would you be to turn up your nose at six
+million dollars? There are all kinds of ways of looking at it. In the
+first place, he didn't leave it to you outright. It _is_ a trust, or a
+foundation, and it has a definite end in view. You are the sole trustee,
+that's the point on which you elect to stick. You are to be allowed to
+handle this vast fortune as your judgment dictates, _as a trustee_, mind
+you. You forget that he fixed your real position rather clearly when he
+stipulated that you were to have a salary of twenty-five thousand dollars
+a year, and fees as a trustee. That doesn't look as though he left it to
+you without strings, does it?"
+
+For an hour they argued the great question. Simmy did not pretend that he
+accepted Braden's theories; in fact, he pronounced them shocking. Still,
+he contended, that was neither here nor there. Braden believed in them,
+and it wasn't any affair of his, after all.
+
+"I don't believe it is right for man to try to do God's work," said he, in
+explaining his objections. "But it doesn't matter what I think about it,
+old chap, so don't mind me."
+
+"Can't you understand, Simmy, that I advocate a simple, direct means of
+relieving the—"
+
+"Sure, I understand," broke in Simmy agreeably.
+
+"Does God send the soldiers into battle, does he send the condemned man to
+the gallows? Man does that, doesn't he? If it is God's work to drop a
+small child into a boiling vat by accident, and if He fails to kill that
+child at once, why shouldn't it be the work of man to complete the job as
+quickly as possible? We shoot down the soldiers. Is that God's work? We
+hang the murderer. Is that God's work? Emperors and kings conduct their
+wars in the name of God and thousands of God's creatures go down to death.
+Do you believe that God approves of this slaughter of the strong and
+hardy? God doesn't send the man to the gallows nor the soldier to the
+fighting line. Man does that, and he does it because he has the power to
+do it, and he lives serene in the consolation that the great, good God
+will not hold him to account for what he has done. We legalise the killing
+of the strong; but not for humane reasons. Why shouldn't we legalise the
+killing of the weak for humane reasons? It may interest you to know,
+Simmy, that we men have more merciful ways of ending life than God Himself
+directs. Why prolong life when it means agony that cannot be ended except
+by the death that so certainly waits a few days or weeks beyond—"
+
+"How can you be sure that a man is going to die? Doctors very frequently
+say that a person has no chance whatever, and then the fellow fools 'em
+and gets well."
+
+"I am not speaking of such cases. I only speak of the cases where there
+can be no doubt. There are such cases, you see. I would let Death take its
+toll, just as it has always done, and I would fight for my patient until
+the last breath was gone from his body. Two weeks ago a child was gored by
+a bull back here in the country. It was disembowelled. That child lived
+for many hours,—and suffered. That's what I mean, in substance. I too
+believe in the old maxim,—'while there's life there's hope.' That is the
+foundation on which our profession is built. A while ago you spoke of the
+extremely aged as possible victims of my theories. I suppose you meant to
+ask me if I would include them in my list. God forbid! To me there is
+nothing more beautiful than a happy, healthy, contented old age. We love
+our old people. If we love them we do not think of them as old. We want
+them to live,—just as I shall want to live, and you, Simmy. And we want
+them to die when their time comes, by God's hand not man's, for God does
+give them a peaceful, glorious end. But we don't want them to suffer, any
+more than we would want the young to suffer, I loved my grandfather. Death
+was a great boon to him. He wanted to die. But all old men do not want to
+die. They—"
+
+"We're not getting anywhere with this kind of talk," interrupted Simmy.
+"The sum and substance is this: you would put it in the power of a few men
+to destroy human life on the representation of a few doctors. If these
+doctors said—"
+
+"And why not? We put it into the power of twelve men to send a man to the
+gallows on the testimony of witnesses who may be lying like thieves. We
+take the testimony of doctors as experts in our big murder trials. If we
+believe some of them we hang the man because they say he is sane. On the
+other hand we frequently acquit the guilty man if they say he's insane."
+
+Simmy squinted a half-closed eye, calculatingly, judicially. "My dear
+fellow, the insane asylums in this country to-day hold any number of
+reasonably sane inmates, sent there by commissions which perhaps
+unintentionally followed out the plans of designing persons who were
+actuated solely by selfish and avaricious motives. Control of great
+properties falls into the hands of conspiring relatives simply because it
+happened to be an easy matter to get some one snugly into a madhouse." He
+said no more. Braden was allowed to draw his own conclusions.
+
+"Oh, I dare say people will go on putting obstacles out of their way till
+the end of time," said he coolly. "If I covet your wife or your ass or
+your money-bags I put poison in your tea and you very obligingly die, and
+all that the law can do is to send me after you as soon as the lawyers
+have got through with me. That is no argument, Simmy. That sort of thing
+will go on forever."
+
+Finally Thorpe settled back in his chair resignedly, worn out by the
+persistent argument of his tormentor.
+
+"Well, suppose that I agree with all you say,—what then? Suppose that I
+take up my burden, as you say I should, and set out to bring the world
+around to my way of thinking, where am I to begin and how?"
+
+Simmy contrived to suppress the sigh of relief that rose to his lips. This
+was making headway, after all. Things looked brighter.
+
+"My dear fellow, it will take you a good many years to even make a
+beginning. You can't go right smack up against the world and say: 'Here,
+you, look sharp! I'm going to hit you in the eye.' In the first place, you
+will have to convince the world that you are a great, big man in your
+profession. You will have to cure ten thousand people before you can make
+the world believe that you are anybody at all. Then people will listen to
+you and what you say will have some effect. You can't do anything now.
+Twenty years from now, when you are at the top of your profession, you
+will be in a position to do something. But in the meantime you will have
+to make people understand that you can cure 'em if anybody can, so that
+when you say _you_ can't cure 'em, they'll know it's final. I'm not asking
+you to renounce your ideas. You can even go on talking about them and
+writing to the newspapers and all that sort of thing, if you want to, but
+you've got to build up a reputation for yourself before you can begin to
+make use of all this money along the lines laid down for you. But first of
+all you must make people say that in spite of your theories you are a
+practical benefactor and not a plain, ordinary crank. Go on sowing the
+seed if you will, and then when the time comes found a college in which
+your principles may be safely and properly taught, and then see what
+people will say."
+
+"It sounds very simple, the way you put it," said Thorpe, with a smile.
+
+"There is no other way, my friend," said Simmy earnestly.
+
+Thorpe was silent for a long time, staring out over the dark waters of the
+bay. The sun had slipped down behind the ridge of hills to the south and
+west, and the once bright sea was now cold and sinister and unsmiling. The
+boats were stealing in from its unfriendly wastes.
+
+"I had not thought of it in that light, Simmy," he said at length. "My
+grandfather said it might take two hundred years."
+
+"Incidentally," said Simmy, shrewdly, "your grandfather knew what he was
+about when he put in the provision that you were to have twenty-five
+thousand dollars a year as a salary, so to speak. He was a far-seeing man.
+He knew that you would have a hard, uphill struggle before you got on your
+feet to stay. He may even have calculated on a lifetime, my friend. That's
+why he put in the twenty-five. He probably realised that you'd be too
+idiotic to use the money except as a means to bring about the millennium,
+and so he said to himself 'I'll have to do something to keep the damn'
+fool from starving.' You needn't have any scruples about taking your pay,
+old boy. You've got to live, you know. I think I've got the old
+gentleman's idea pretty—"
+
+"Well, let's drop the subject for to-night, Simmy," said Thorpe, coming to
+his feet. His chin was up and his shoulders thrown back as he breathed
+deeply and fully of the new life that seemed to spring up mysteriously
+from nowhere. "You'll spend the night with me. There is a spare bed and
+you'll—"
+
+"Isn't there a Ritz in the place?" inquired Simmy, scarcely able to
+conceal his joy.
+
+"Not so that you can notice it," replied Thorpe gaily. He walked to the
+edge of the porch and drank in more of that strange, puzzling air that
+came from vast distances and filled his lungs as they had never been
+filled before.
+
+Simmy watched him narrowly in the failing light. After a moment he sank
+back comfortably in the old rocking chair and smiled as a cat might smile
+in contemplating a captive mouse. The rest would be easy. Thorpe would go
+back with him. That was all that he wanted, and perhaps more than he
+expected. As for old Templeton Thorpe's "foundation," he did not give it a
+moment's thought. Time would attend to that. Time would kill it, so what
+was the use worrying. He prided himself on having done the job very
+neatly,—and he was smart enough to let the matter rest.
+
+"What is the news in town?" asked Braden, turning suddenly. There was a
+new ring in his voice. He was eager for news of the town!
+
+"Well," said Simmy naively, "there is so much to tell I don't believe I
+could get it all out before dinner."
+
+"We call it supper, Simmy."
+
+"It's all the same to me," said Simmy.
+
+And after supper he told him the news as they walked out along the
+breakwater.
+
+Anne Thorpe was in Europe. She closed the house as soon as George was able
+to go to work, and went away without any definite notion as to the length
+of her stay abroad.
+
+"She's terribly upset over having to live in that old house down there,"
+said Simmy, "and I don't blame her. It's full of ghosts, good and bad. It
+has always been her idea to buy a big house farther up town. In fact, that
+was one of the things on which she had set her heart. I don't mind telling
+you that I'm trying to find some way in which she can chuck the old house
+down there without losing anything. She wants to give it away, but I won't
+listen to that. It's worth a hundred thousand if it's worth a nickel. So
+she closed the place, dismissed the servants and—"
+
+"'Gad, my grandfather wouldn't like that," said Braden. "He was fond of
+Murray and Wade and—"
+
+"Murray has bought a saloon in Sixth Avenue and talks of going into
+politics. Old Wade absolutely refused to allow Anne to close up the house.
+He has received his legacy and turned it over to me for investment.
+Confound him, when I had him down to the office afterwards he as much as
+told me that he didn't want to be bothered with the business, and actually
+complained because I had taken him away from his work at that hour of the
+day. Anne had to leave him there as caretaker. I understand he is all
+alone in the house."
+
+"Anne is in Europe, eh? That's good," said Thorpe, more to himself than to
+his companion.
+
+"Never saw her looking more beautiful than the day she sailed," said
+Simmy, peering hard in the darkness at the other's face. "She hasn't had
+much happiness, Brady."
+
+"Umph!" was the only response, but it was sufficient to turn Simmy off
+into other channels.
+
+"I suppose you know that George and Lutie are married again."
+
+"Good! I'm glad to hear it," said Thorpe, with enthusiasm.
+
+"Married two weeks after George went to work in that big bank note
+company's plant. I got the job for him. He starts at the bottom, of
+course, but that's the right way for a chap like George to begin. He'll
+have to make good before he can go up an inch in the business. Fifteen a
+week. But he'll go up, Brady. He'll make good with Lutie to push from
+behind. Awful blow to Mrs. Tresslyn, however. He's a sort of clerk and has
+to wear sleeve papers and an eye-shade. I shall never forget the day that
+Lutie bought him back." Simmy chuckled.
+
+"Bought him back?"
+
+"Yes. She plunked thirty thousand down on the table in my office in front
+of Mrs. Tresslyn and said 'I sha'n't need a receipt, Mrs. Tresslyn. George
+is receipt enough for me.' I'd never seen Mrs. Tresslyn blush before, but
+she blushed then, my boy. Got as red as fire. Then she rose up in her
+dignity and said she wouldn't take the money. How was her son to live, she
+said, if Lutie deprived him of his visible means of support? Lutie replied
+that if George was strong enough to carry the washing back and forth from
+the customers', she'd manage to support him by taking in dirty linen. Then
+Mrs. Tresslyn broke down. Damme, Brady, it brought tears to my eyes. You
+don't know how affecting it is to see a high and mighty person like Mrs.
+Tresslyn humble herself like that. She didn't cry. I was the only one who
+cried, curse me for a silly ass. She just simply said that Lutie was the
+best and bravest girl in the world and that she was sorry for all that she
+had done to hurt her. And she asked Lutie to forgive her. Then Lutie put
+her arm around her and called her an old dear. I didn't see any more on
+account of the infernal tears. But Lutie wouldn't take back the money. She
+said that it didn't belong to her and that she couldn't look George in the
+face if she kept it. So that's how it stands. She and George have a tiny
+little apartment 'way up town,—three rooms, I believe, and so far she
+hasn't taken in anybody's washing. Anne wants to refund the money to
+Lutie, but doesn't know how to go about it. She—er—sort of left it to me
+to find the way. Lordy, I seem to get all of the tough jobs."
+
+"You are a brick, Simmy," said Thorpe, laying his arm across the little
+man's shoulders.
+
+"Heigh-ho!" sighed Simmy. Later on, as they returned through the fog that
+was settling down about them, he inquired: "By the way, will you be ready
+to start back with me to-morrow?"
+
+"Lord love you, no," cried Thorpe. "I've agreed, to help old man Stingley
+with the boat house. I'll come down in three weeks, Simmy."
+
+"Lordy, Lordy!" groaned Simmy, dejectedly. "Three weeks in this God-
+forsaken place? I'll die, Brady."
+
+"You? What are you talking about?"
+
+"Why, you don't suppose I'm going back without you, do you?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+Anne Thorpe remained in Europe for a year, returning to New York shortly
+before the breaking out of the Great War. She went to the Ritz, where she
+took an apartment. A day or two after her arrival in the city, she sent
+for Wade.
+
+"Wade," she said, as the old valet stood smirking before her in the little
+sitting-room, "I have decided not to re-open the house. I shall never re-
+open it. I do not intend to live there."
+
+The man turned a sickly green. His voice shook a little. "Are—are you
+going to close it—for good,—madam?"
+
+"I sent for you this morning to inquire if you are willing to continue
+living there as caretaker until—"
+
+"You may depend on me, Mrs. Thorpe, to—" he broke in eagerly.
+
+"—until I make up my mind what to do with the property," she concluded.
+
+He hesitated, clearing his throat. "I beg pardon for mentioning it, ma'am,
+but the will said that you would have to live in the house and that you
+may not sell it or do anything—"
+
+"I know," she interrupted shortly. "I sha'n't sell the house, of course.
+On the other hand, I do not intend to live in it. I don't care what
+becomes of it, Wade."
+
+"It's worth a great deal of money," he ventured.
+
+She was not interested. "But so am I," she said curtly. "By the way, how
+have you fared, Wade? You do not look as though you have made the best of
+your own good fortune. Are you not a trifle thinner?"
+
+The man looked down at the rug. "I am quite well, thank you. A little
+older, of course,—that's all. I haven't had a sick day in years."
+
+"Why do you stay on in service? You have means of your own,—quite a handy
+fortune, I should say. I cannot understand your willingness, to coop
+yourself up in that big old house, when you might be out seeing something
+of life, enjoying your money and—you are a very strange person, Wade."
+
+He favoured her with his twisted smile. "We can't all be alike, madam," he
+said. "Besides, I couldn't see very much of life with my small pot of
+gold. I shall always stick to my habit, I suppose, of earning my daily
+bread."
+
+"I see. Then I may depend upon you to remain in charge of the house?
+Whenever you are ready to give it up, pray do not hesitate to come to me.
+I will release you, of course."
+
+"I may possibly live to be ninety," he said, encouragingly.
+
+She stared. "You mean—that you will stay on until you die?"
+
+"Seeing that you cannot legally sell the house,—and you will not live in
+it,—I hope to be of service to you to the end of my days, madam. Have you
+considered the possibility of some one setting up a claim to the property
+on account of your—er—violation of the terms of the will?"
+
+"I should be very happy if some one were to do so, Wade," she replied with
+a smile. "I should not oppose the claim. Unfortunately there is no one to
+take the step. There are no disgruntled relatives."
+
+"Ahem! Mr. Braden, of course, might—er—be regarded as a—"
+
+"Dr. Thorpe will not set up a claim, Wade. You need not be disturbed."
+
+"There is no one else, of course," said he, with a deep breath of relief.
+
+"No one. I can't even _give_ it away. I shall go on paying taxes on it all
+my life, I daresay. And repairs and—"
+
+"Repairs won't be necessary, ma'am, unless you have a complaining tenant.
+I shall manage to keep the place in good order."
+
+"Are your wages satisfactory, Wade?"
+
+"Quite, madam." Sometimes he remembered not to say "ma'am."
+
+"And your food, your own personal comforts, your—"
+
+"Don't worry about me, madam. I make out very well."
+
+"And you are all alone there? All alone in that dark, grim old house? Oh,
+how terribly lonely it must be. I—" she shivered slightly.
+
+"I have a scrub-woman in twice a month, and Murray comes to see me once in
+awhile. I read a great deal."
+
+"And your meals?"
+
+"I get my own breakfast, and go down to Sixth Avenue for my luncheons and
+dinners. There is an excellent little restaurant quite near, you
+see,—conducted by a very estimable Southern lady in reduced circumstances.
+Her husband is a Northerner, however, and she doesn't see a great deal of
+him. I understand he is a person of very uncertain habits. They say he
+gambles. Her daughter assists her with the business. She—but, I beg
+pardon; you would not be interested in them."
+
+"I am glad that you are contented, Wade. We will consider the matter
+settled, and you will go on as heretofore. You may always find me here, if
+you desire to communicate with me at any time."
+
+Wade looked around the room. Anne's maid had come in and was employed in
+restoring a quantity of flowers to the boxes in which they had been
+delivered. There were roses and violets and orchids in profusion.
+
+Mrs. Thorpe took note of his interest. "You will be interested to hear,
+Wade, that my sister-in-law is expecting a little baby very soon. I am
+taking the flowers up to her flat."
+
+"A baby," said Wade softly. "That will be fine, madam."
+
+After Wade's departure, Anne ordered a taxi, and, with the half dozen
+boxes of flowers piled up in front of her, set out for George's home. On
+the way up through the park she experienced a strange sense of exaltation,
+a curious sort of tribute to her own lack of selfishness in the matter of
+the flowers. This feeling of self-exaltation was so pleasing to her, so
+full of promise for further demands upon her newly discovered nature, that
+she found herself wondering why she had allowed herself to be cheated out
+of so much that was agreeable during all the years of her life! She was
+now sincerely in earnest in her desire to be kind and gentle and generous
+toward others. She convinced herself of that in more ways than one. In the
+first place, she enjoyed thinking first of the comforts of others, and
+secondly of herself. That in itself was most surprising to her. Up to a
+year or two ago she would have deprived herself of nothing unless there
+was some personal satisfaction to be had from the act, such as the
+consciousness that the object of her kindness envied her the power to
+give, or that she could pity herself for having been obliged to give
+without return. Now she found joy in doing the things she once
+abhorred,—the unnecessary things, as she had been pleased to describe
+them.
+
+She loved Lutie,—and that surprised her more than anything else. She did
+not know it, but she was absorbing strength of purpose, independence, and
+sincerity from this staunch little woman who was George's wife. She would
+have cried out against the charge that Lutie had become an Influence! It
+was all right for Lutie to have an influence on the character of George,
+but—the thought of anything nearer home than that never entered her head.
+
+As a peculiar—and not especially commendable—example of her present state
+of unselfishness, she stopped for luncheon with her pretty little sister-
+in-law, and either forgot or calmly ignored the fact that she had promised
+Percy Wintermill and his sister to lunch with them at Sherry's. And later
+on, when Percy complained over the telephone she apologised with perfect
+humility,—surprising him even more than she surprised herself. She did
+not, however, feel called upon to explain to him that she had transferred
+his orchids to Lutie's living-room. That was another proof of her
+consideration for others. She knew that Percy's feelings would have been
+hurt.
+
+Lutie was radiantly happy. Her baby was coming in a fortnight.
+
+"You shall have the very best doctor in New York," said Anne, caressing
+the fair, tousled head. Her own heart was full.
+
+"We're going to have Braden Thorpe," said Lutie.
+
+Anne started. "But he is not—What you want, Lutie, is a specialist. Braden
+is—"
+
+"He's good enough for me," said Lutie serenely. Possibly she was
+astonished by the sudden, impulsive kiss that Anne bestowed upon her, and
+the more fervent embrace that followed.
+
+That afternoon Anne received many callers. Her home-coming meant a great
+deal to the friends who had lost sight of her during the period of
+preparation that began, quite naturally, with her marriage to Templeton
+Thorpe, and was now to bear its results. She would take her place once
+more in the set to which she belonged as a Tresslyn.
+
+Alas, for the memory of old Templeton Thorpe, her one-time intimates in
+society were already speaking of her,—absently, of course,—as Anne
+Tresslyn. The newspapers might continue to allude to her as the beautiful
+Mrs. Thorpe, but that was as far as it would go. Polite society would not
+be deceived. It would not deny her the respectability of marriage, to be
+sure, but on the other hand, it wouldn't think of her as having been
+married to old Mr. Thorpe. It might occasionally give a thought or two to
+the money that had once been Mr. Thorpe's, and it might go so far as to
+pity Anne because she had been stupid or ill-advised in the matter of a
+much-discussed ante-nuptial arrangement, but nothing could alter the fact
+that she had never ceased being a Tresslyn, and that there was infinite
+justice in the restoration of at least one of the Tresslyns to a state of
+affluence. It remains to be seen whether Society's estimate of her was
+right or wrong.
+
+Her mother came in for half an hour, and admitted that the baby would be a
+good thing for poor George.
+
+"I am rather glad it is coming," she said. "I shall know what to do with
+that hateful money she forced me to take back."
+
+"What do you mean, mother?"
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn lifted her lorgnon. "Have you forgotten, my dear?"
+
+"Of course I haven't. But what _do_ you mean?"
+
+"It is perfectly simple, Anne. I mean that as soon as this baby comes I
+shall settle the whole of that thirty thousand dollars upon it, and have
+it off my mind forever. Heaven knows it has plagued me to—"
+
+"You—but, mother, can you afford to do anything so—"
+
+"My dear, it may interest you to know that your mother possesses a great
+deal of that abomination known as pride. I have not spent so much as a
+penny of Lutie Car—of my daughter-in-law's money. You look surprised. Have
+you been thinking so ill of me as that? Did you believe that I—"
+
+Anne threw her arms about her mother's neck, and kissed her rapturously.
+
+"I see you _did_ believe it of me," said Mrs. Tresslyn drily. Then she
+kissed her daughter in return. "I haven't been able to look my daughter-
+in-law in the face since she virtually threw all that money back into
+mine. I've been almost distracted trying to think of a way to force it
+back upon her, so that I might be at peace with myself. This baby will
+open the way. It will simplify everything. It shall be worth thirty
+thousand dollars in its own right the day it is born."
+
+Anne was beaming. "And on that same day, mother dear, I will replace the
+amount that you turn over to—"
+
+"You will do nothing of the kind," said Mrs. Tresslyn sharply. "I am not
+doing this thing because I am kind-hearted, affectionate, or even
+remorseful. I shall do it because it pleases me, and not for the sake of
+pleasing any one else. Now we'll drop the subject. I do hope, however,
+that if George doesn't take the trouble to telephone me within a
+reasonable time after his child comes into the world—say within a day or
+two—I hope you will do so."
+
+"Really, mother, you are a very wonderful person," said Anne, rather wide-
+eyed.
+
+"No more wonderful, my dear, than Lutie Carnahan, if you will pause for a
+moment to think of what _she_ did."
+
+"She is very proud, and very happy," said Anne dubiously. "She and George
+may refuse to accept this—"
+
+"My dear Anne," interrupted her mother calmly, "pray let me remind you
+that Lutie is no fool. And now, tell me something about your plans. Where
+are you going for the summer?"
+
+"That depends entirely on where my nephew wants to spend the heated term,"
+said Anne brightly. "I shall take him and Lutie into the country with me."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn winced. "It doesn't sound quite so terrible as grandson, at
+any rate," she remarked, considering the first sentence only.
+
+"I do hope it will be a boy," mused Anne.
+
+"I believe I could love her if she gave us a boy," said the other. "I am
+beginning to feel that we need more men in the family."
+
+One of the last to drop in during the afternoon to welcome Anne back to
+the fold was the imposing and more or less redoubtable Mrs. Wintermill,
+head of the exclusive family to which Percy belonged. Percy's father was
+still alive but he was a business man, and as such he met his family as he
+would any other liability: when necessary.
+
+Mrs. Wintermill's first remark after saying that she was glad to see Anne
+looking so well was obviously the result of a quick and searching glance
+around the room.
+
+"Isn't Percy here?" she inquired.
+
+Anne had just had an uncomfortable half minute on the telephone with
+Percy. "Not unless he is hiding behind that couch over there, Mrs.
+Wintermill," she said airily. "He is coming up later, I believe."
+
+"I was to meet him here," said Mrs. Wintermill, above flippancy. "Is it
+five o'clock?"
+
+"No," said Anne. Mrs. Wintermill smiled again. She was puzzled a little by
+the somewhat convulsive gurgle that burst from Anne's lips. "I beg your
+pardon. I just happened to think of something." She turned away to say
+good-bye to the last of her remaining visitors,—two middle-aged ladies who
+had not made her acquaintance until after her marriage to Templeton Thorpe
+and therefore were not by way of knowing Mrs. Wintermill without the aid
+of opera-glasses. "Do come and see me again."
+
+"Who are they?" demanded Mrs. Wintermill before the servant had time to
+close the door behind the departing ones. She did not go to the trouble of
+speaking in an undertone.
+
+"Old friends of Mr. Thorpe's," said Anne. "Washington Square people. More
+tea, Ludwig. How well you are looking, Mrs. Wintermill. So good of you to
+come."
+
+"We wanted to be among the first—if not the very first—to welcome you
+home, Jane. Percy said to me this morning before he left for the office:
+'Mother, you must run in and see Jane Tresslyn to-day.' Ahem! Dear me, I
+seem to have got into the habit of dropping things every time I move.
+Thanks, dear. Ahem! As I was saying, I said to Percy this morning: 'I must
+run in and see Jane Tresslyn to-day.' And Percy said that he would meet me
+here and go on to the—Do you remember the Fenns? The Rumsey Fenns?"
+
+"Oh, yes. I've been away only a year, you know, Mrs. Wintermill."
+
+"It seems ages. Well, the Fenns are having something or other for a French
+woman,—or a man, I'm not quite sure,—who is trying to introduce a new
+tuberculosis serum over here. I shouldn't be the least bit surprised to
+see it publicly injected into Mr. Fenn, who, I am told, has everything his
+wife wants him to have. My daughter was saying only a day or two ago that
+Rumsey Fenn,—we don't know them very well, of course,—naturally, we
+wouldn't, you know—er—what was I saying? Ah, yes; Percy declared that the
+city would be something like itself once more, now that you've come home,
+Jennie. I beg your pardon;—which is it that you prefer? I've quite
+forgotten. Jennie or Jane?"
+
+"It doesn't in the least matter, Mrs. Wintermill," said Anne amiably.
+"There isn't much choice."
+
+"How is your mother?"
+
+"Quite well, thank you. And how is Mr. Wintermill?"
+
+"As I was saying, Mrs. Fenn dances beautifully. Percy,—he's really quite
+silly about dancing,—Percy says she's the best he knows. I do not pretend
+to dance all of the new ones myself, but—Did you inquire about Mr.
+Wintermill? He's doing it, too, as they say in the song. By the way, I
+should have asked before: how is your mother? I haven't seen her in weeks.
+Good heavens!" The good lady actually turned pale. "It was your husband
+who died, wasn't it? Not your—but, of course, _not_. What a relief. You
+say she's well?"
+
+"You barely missed her. She was here this afternoon."
+
+"So sorry. It _is_ good to have you with us again, Kate. How pretty you
+are. Do you like the Ritz?"
+
+A bell-boy delivered a huge basket of roses at the door at this juncture.
+Mrs. Wintermill eyed them sharply as Ludwig paused for instructions. Anne
+languidly picked up the detached envelope and looked at the card it
+contained.
+
+"Put it on the piano, Ludwig," she said. "They are from Eddie Townshield,"
+she announced, kindly relieving her visitor's curiosity.
+
+"Really," said Mrs. Wintermill. She sent a very searching glance around
+the room once more. This time she was not looking for Percy, but for
+Percy's tribute. She was annoyed with Percy. What did he mean by not
+sending flowers to Anne Tresslyn? In her anger she got the name right.
+"Orchids are Percy's favourites, Anne. He never sends anything but
+orchids. He—"
+
+"He sent me some gorgeous orchids this morning," said Anne.
+
+Mrs. Wintermill looked again, even squinting her eyes. "I suppose they
+_aren't_ very hardy at this time of the year. I've noticed they perish—"
+
+"Oh, these were exceedingly robust," interrupted Anne. "They'll live for
+days." Her visitor gave it up, sinking back with a faint sigh. "I've had
+millions of roses and orchids and violets since I landed. Every one has
+been so nice."
+
+Mrs. Wintermill sat up a little straighter in her chair. "New York men are
+rather punctilious about such things," she ventured. It was an inquiry.
+
+"Captain Poindexter, Dickie Fowless, Herb. Vandervelt,—oh, I can't
+remember all of them. The room looked like Thorley's this morning."
+
+Mrs. Wintermill could not stand it any longer. "What have you done with
+them, my dear?"
+
+Anne enjoyed being veracious. "I took a whole truckload up to my sister-
+in-law. She's going to have a baby."
+
+Her visitor stiffened. "I was not aware that you had a sister-in-law. Mr.
+Thorpe was especially free from relatives."
+
+"Oh, this is George's wife. Dear little Lutie Carnahan, don't you know?
+She's adorable."
+
+"Oh!" oozed from the other's lips. "I—I think I do recall the fact that
+George was married while in college. It is very nice of you to share your
+flowers with her. I loathed them, however, when Percy and Elaine were
+coming. It must be after five, isn't it?"
+
+"Two minutes after," said Anne.
+
+"I thought so. I wonder what has become of—Oh, by the way, Jane, Percy was
+saying the other day that Eddie Townshield has really been thrown over by
+that silly little Egburt girl. He was frightfully gone on her, you know.
+You wouldn't know her. She came out after you went into retirement. That's
+rather good, isn't it? Retirement! I must tell that to Percy. He thinks I
+haven't a grain of humour, my dear. It bores him, I fancy, because he is
+so witty himself. And heaven knows he doesn't get it from his father. That
+reminds me, have you heard that Captain Poindexter is about to be
+dismissed from the army on account of that affair with Mrs. Coles last
+winter? The government is very strict about—Ah, perhaps that is Percy
+now."
+
+But it was not Percy,—only a boy with a telegram.
+
+"Will you pardon me?" said Anne, and tore open the envelope. "Why, it's
+from Percy."
+
+"From—dear me, what is it, Anne? Has anything happened—"
+
+"Just a word to say that he will be fifteen or twenty minutes late," said
+Anne drily.
+
+"He is the most thoughtful boy in—But as I was saying, Herbie Vandervelt's
+affair with Anita Coles was the talk of the town last winter. Every one
+says that he will not marry her even though Coles divorces her. How I hate
+that in men. They are not all that sort, thank God. I suppose the business
+in connection with the estate has been settled, hasn't it? As I recall it,
+the will was a very simple one, aside from that ridiculous provision that
+shocked every one so much. I think you made a great mistake in not
+contesting it, Annie. Percy says that it wouldn't have stood in any court.
+By the way, have you seen Braden Thorpe?" She eyed her hostess rather
+narrowly.
+
+"No," was the reply. "It hasn't been necessary, you know. Mr. Dodge
+attended to everything. My duties as executrix were trifling. My report,
+or whatever you call it, was ready months ago."
+
+"And all that money? I mean, the money that went to Braden. What of that?"
+
+"It did not go to Braden, Mrs. Wintermill," said Anne levelly. "It is in
+trust."
+
+Mrs. Wintermill smiled. "Oh, nothing will come of that," she said. "Percy
+says that you could bet your boots that Braden would have contested if
+things had been the other way round."
+
+"I'm sure I don't know," said Anne briefly.
+
+"I hear that he is hanging on in spite of what the world says about him,
+trying to get a practice. Percy sees him quite frequently. He's really
+sorry for him. When Percy likes a person nothing in the world can turn him
+against—why, he would lend him money as long as his own lasted. He—"
+
+"Has Braden borrowed money from Percy?" demanded Anne quickly.
+
+"I did not say that he had, my dear," said the other reprovingly. "I
+merely said that he would lend it to him in any amount if he asked for it.
+Of course, Braden would probably go to Simmy Dodge in case of—they are
+almost inseparable, you know. Simmy has been quite a brick, sticking to
+him like this. My dear,"—leaning a little closer and lowering her voice on
+Ludwig's account,—"do you know that the poor fellow didn't have a patient
+for nearly six months? People wouldn't go near him. I hear that he has
+been doing better of late. I think it was Percy who said that he had
+operated successfully on a man who had gall stones. Oh, yes, I quite
+forgot that Percy says he has twenty-five thousand dollars a year as wages
+for acting as trustee. I fancy he doesn't hesitate to use it to the best
+advantage. As long as he has that, I dare say he will not starve or go
+naked."
+
+Receiving no response from Anne, she took courage and playfully shook her
+finger at the young woman. "Wasn't there some ridiculous talk of an
+adolescent engagement a few years ago? How queer nature is! I can't
+imagine you even being interested in him. So soggy and emotionless, and
+you so full of life and verve and—Still they say he is completely wrapped
+up in his profession, such as it is. I've always said that a daughter of
+mine should never marry a doctor. As a matter of fact, a doctor never
+should marry. No woman should be subjected to the life that a doctor's
+wife has to lead. In the first place, if he is any good at all in his
+profession, he can't afford to give her any time or thought, and then
+there is always the danger one runs from women patients. You never could
+be quite sure that everything was all right, don't you know. Besides, I've
+always had a horror of the infectious diseases they may be carrying around
+in their—why, think of small-pox and diphtheria and scarlet fever! Those
+diseases—"
+
+"My dear Mrs. Wintermill," interrupted Anne, with a smile, "I am not
+thinking of marrying a doctor."
+
+"Of course you are not," said Mrs. Wintermill promptly. "I wasn't thinking
+of that. I—"
+
+"Besides, there is a lot of difference between a surgeon and a regular
+practitioner. Surgeons do not treat small-pox and that sort of thing. You
+couldn't object to a surgeon, could you?" She spoke very sweetly and
+without a trace of ridicule in her manner.
+
+"I have a horror of surgeons," said the other, catching at her purse as it
+once more started to slip from her capacious lap. She got it in time.
+"Blood on their hands every time they earn a fee. No, thank you. I am not
+a sanguinary person."
+
+All of which leads up to the belated announcement that Mrs. Wintermill was
+extremely desirous of having the beautiful and wealthy widow of Templeton
+Thorpe for a daughter-in-law.
+
+"I suppose you know that James,—but naturally you wouldn't know, having
+just landed, my dear Jane. You haven't seen Braden Thorpe, so it isn't
+likely that you could have heard. I fancy he isn't saying much about it,
+in any event. The world is too eager to rake up things against him in view
+of his extraordinary ideas on—"
+
+"You were speaking of James, but _what_ James, Mrs. Wintermill?"
+interrupted Anne, sensing.
+
+Mrs. Wintermill lowered her voice. "Inasmuch as you are rather closely
+related to Braden by marriage, you will be interested to know that he is
+to perform a very serious operation upon James Marraville." There was no
+mistaking the awe in her voice.
+
+"The banker?"
+
+"The great James Marraville," said Mrs. Wintermill, suddenly passing her
+handkerchief over her brow. "He is said to be in a hopeless condition,"
+she added, pronouncing the words slowly.
+
+"I—I had not heard of it, Mrs. Wintermill," murmured Anne, going cold to
+the very marrow.
+
+"Every one has given him up. It is terrible. A few days ago he sent for
+Braden Thorpe and—well, it was announced in the papers that there will be
+an operation to-morrow or the next day. Of course, he cannot survive it.
+That is admitted by every one. Mr. Wintermill went over to see him last
+night. He was really shocked to find Mr. Marraville quite cheerful
+and—contented. I fancy you know what that means."
+
+"And Braden is going to operate?" said Anne slowly.
+
+"No one else will undertake it, of course," said the other, something like
+a triumphant note in her voice.
+
+"What a wonderful thing it would be for Braden if he were to succeed,"
+cried Anne, battling against her own sickening conviction. "Think what it
+would mean if he were to save the life of a man so important as James
+Marraville,—one of the most talked-of men in the country. It would—"
+
+"But he will not save the man's life," said Mrs. Wintermill significantly.
+"I do not believe that Marraville himself expects that." She hesitated for
+an instant. "It is really dreadful that Braden should have achieved so
+much notoriety on account of—I _beg_ your pardon!"
+
+Anne had arisen and was standing over her visitor in an attitude at once
+menacing and theatric. The old lady blinked and caught her breath.
+
+"If you are trying to make me believe, Mrs. Wintermill, that Braden would
+consent to—But, why should I insult him by attempting to defend him when
+no defence is necessary? I know him well enough to say that he would not
+operate on James Marraville for all the money in the world unless he
+believed that there was a chance to pull him through." She spoke rapidly
+and rather too intensely for Mrs. Wintermill's peace of mind.
+
+"That is just what Percy says," stammered the older woman hastily. "He
+believes in Braden. He says it's all tommyrot about Marraville paying him
+to put him out of his misery. My dear, I don't believe there is a more
+loyal creature on earth than Percy Wintermill. He—"
+
+Percy was announced at that instant. He came quickly into the room and,
+failing utterly to see his mother, went up to Anne and inquired what the
+deuce had happened to prevent her coming to luncheon, and why she didn't
+have the grace to let him know, and what did she take him for, anyway.
+
+"Elaine and I stood around over there for an hour,—an hour, do you get
+that?—biting everything but food, and—"
+
+"I'm awfully sorry, Percy," said Anne calmly. "I wouldn't offend Elaine
+for the world. She's—"
+
+"Elaine? What about me? Elaine took it as a joke, confound her,—but I
+didn't. Now see here, Anne, old girl, you know I'm not in the habit of
+being—"
+
+"Here is your mother, Percy," interrupted Anne coldly.
+
+"Hello! You still waiting for me, mother? I say, what do you think Anne's
+been doing to your angel child? Forgetting that he's on earth, that's all.
+Now, where were you, Anne, and what's the racket? I'm not in the habit of
+being—"
+
+"I forgot all about it, Percy," confessed Anne deliberately. She was
+conscious of a sadly unfeminine longing to see just how Percy's nose
+_could_ look under certain conditions. "I couldn't say that to you over
+the phone, however,—could I?"
+
+"Anne's sister-in-law is expecting a baby," put in Mrs. Wintermill
+fatuously. This would never do! Percy ought to know better than to say
+such things to Anne. What on earth had got into him? Except for the
+foregoing effort, however, she was quite speechless.
+
+"What's that got to do with it?" demanded Percy, chucking his gloves
+toward the piano. He faced Anne once more, prepared to insist on full
+satisfaction. The look in her eyes, however, caused him to refrain from
+pursuing his tactics. He smiled in a sickly fashion and said, after a
+moment devoted to reconstruction: "But, never mind, Anne; I was only
+having a little fun bullying you. That's a man's privilege, don't you
+know. We'll try it again to-morrow, if you say so."
+
+"I have an engagement," said Anne briefly. The next instant she smiled.
+"Next week perhaps, if you will allow me the privilege of forgetting
+again."
+
+"Oh, I say!" said Percy, blinking his eyes. How was he to take that sort
+of talk? He didn't know. And for fear that he might say the wrong thing if
+he attempted to respond to her humour, he turned to his mother and
+remarked: "Don't wait for me, mother. Run along, do. I'm going to stop for
+a chat with Anne."
+
+As Mrs. Wintermill went out she met Simmy Dodge in the hall.
+
+"Would you mind, Simmy dear, coming down to the automobile with me?" she
+said quickly. "I—I think I feel a bit faint."
+
+"I'll drive home with you, if you like," said the good Simmy,
+solicitously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+She saw by the evening papers that the operation on Marraville was to take
+place the next day. That night she slept but little. When her maid roused
+her from the slumber that came long after the sun was up, she immediately
+called for the morning papers. In her heart she was hoping, almost praying
+that they would report the death of James Marraville during the night.
+Then, as she read with burning eyes, she found herself hoping against hope
+that the old man would, at the last moment, refuse to undergo the
+operation, or that some member of his family would protest. But even as
+she hoped, she knew that there would be no objection on the part of either
+Marraville or his children. He was an old man, he was fatally ill, he was
+through with life. There would be no obstacle placed in the way of Death.
+His time had come and there was no one to ask for a respite. He would die
+under the knife and every one would be convinced that it was for the best.
+As she sat up in bed, staring before her with bleak, unseeing eyes, she
+had an inward vision of this rich man's family counting in advance the
+profits of the day's business! Braden Thorpe was to be the only victim. He
+was to be the one to suffer. Two big tears grew in her eyes and rolled
+down her cheeks. She had never loved Braden Thorpe as she loved him now.
+
+She knew that he was moved by honest intentions. That he confidently
+believed he could preserve this man's life she would not for an instant
+doubt. But why had he agreed to undertake the feat that other men had
+declared was useless, the work that other men had said to be absolutely
+unnecessary? A faint ray of comfort rested on the possibility that these
+great surgeons, appreciating, the wide-spread interest that naturally
+would attend the fate of so great a man as James Marraville, were loth to
+face certain failure, but even that comfort was destroyed by an
+intelligence that argued for these surgeons instead of against them. They
+had said that the case was hopeless. They were honest men. They had the
+courage to say: "This man must die. It is God's work, not ours," and had
+turned away. They were big men; they would not operate just for the sake
+of operating. And when they admitted that it was useless they were
+convincing the world that they were honourable men. Therefore,—she almost
+ground her pretty teeth at the thought of it,—old Marraville and his
+family had turned to Braden Thorpe as one without honour or conscience!
+
+She had never been entirely free from the notion that her husband's death
+was the result of premeditated action on the part of his grandson, but in
+that instance there was more than professional zeal in the heart of the
+surgeon: there was love and pity and gentleness in the heart of Braden
+Thorpe when he obeyed the command of the dying man. If he were to come to
+her now, or at any time, with the confession that he had deliberately
+ended the suffering of the man he loved, she would have put her hand in
+his and looked him in the eye while she spoke her words of commendation.
+Templeton Thorpe had the right to appeal to him in his hour of
+hopelessness, but this other man—this mighty Marraville!—what right had he
+to demand the sacrifice? She had witnessed the suffering of Templeton
+Thorpe, she had prayed for death to relieve him; he had called upon her to
+be merciful, and she had denied him. She wondered if James Marraville had
+turned to those nearest and dearest to him with the cry for mercy. She
+wondered if the little pellets had been left at his bedside. She knew the
+extent of his agony, and yet she had no pity for him. He was not asking
+for mercy at the hands of a man who loved him and who could not deny him.
+He was demanding something for which he was willing to pay, not with love
+and gratitude, but with money. Would he look up into Braden's eyes and
+say, "God bless you," when the end was at hand?
+
+Moved by a sudden irresistible impulse she flung reserve aside and decided
+to make an appeal to Braden. She would go to him and plead with him to
+spare himself instead of this rich old man. She would go down on her knees
+to him, she would humble and humiliate herself, she would cry out her
+unwanted love to him....
+
+At nine o'clock she was at his office. He was gone for the day, the little
+placard on the door informed her. Gone for the day! In her desperation she
+called Simmy Dodge on the telephone. He would tell her what to do. But
+Simmy's man told her that his master had just gone away in the motor with
+Dr. Thorpe,—for a long ride into the country. Scarcely knowing what she
+did she hurried on to Lutie's apartment, far uptown.
+
+"What on earth is the matter, Anne?" cried the gay little wife as her
+sister-in-law stalked into the tiny drawing-room and threw herself
+dejectedly upon a couch. Lutie was properly alarmed and sympathetic.
+
+It was what Anne needed. She unburdened herself.
+
+"But," said Lutie cheerfully, "supposing he should save the old codger's
+life, what then? Why do you look at the black side of the thing? While
+there's life, there's hope. You don't imagine for an instant that Dr.
+Thorpe is going into this big job with an idea of losing his patient, do
+you?"
+
+Anne's eyes brightened. A wave of relief surged into her heart.
+
+"Oh, Lutie, Lutie, do you really believe that Braden thinks he can save
+him?"
+
+Lutie's eyes opened very wide. "What in heaven's name are you saying? You
+don't suppose he's thinking of anything else, do you?" A queer, sinking
+sensation assailed her suddenly. She remembered. She knew what was in
+Anne's mind. "Oh, I see! You—" she checked the words in time. An instant
+later her ready tongue saved the situation. "You don't seem to understand
+what a golden opportunity this is for Braden. Here is a case that every
+newspaper in the country is talking about. It's the chance of a lifetime.
+He'll do his best, let me tell you that. If Mr. Marraville dies, it won't
+be Braden's fault. You see, he's just beginning to build up a practice.
+He's had a few unimportant cases and he's—well, he's just beginning to
+realise that pluck and perseverance will do 'most anything for a fellow.
+Now, here comes James Marraville, willing to take a chance with
+him—because it's the only chance left, I'll admit,—and you can bet your
+last dollar, Anne, that Braden isn't going to make a philanthropic job of
+it."
+
+"But if he fails, Lutie,—if he fails don't you see what the papers will
+say? They will crush him to—"
+
+"Why should they? Bigger men than he have failed, haven't they?"
+
+"But it will ruin Braden forever. It will be the end of all his hopes, all
+his ambitions. _This_ will convict him as no other—"
+
+"Now, don't get excited, dear," cautioned the other gently. "You're
+working yourself into an awful state. I think I understand, Anne. You poor
+old girl!"
+
+"I want you to know, Lutie. I want some one to know what he is to me, in
+spite of everything."
+
+Then Lutie sat down beside her and, after deliberately pulling the pins
+from her visitor's hat, tossed it aimlessly in the direction of a near-by
+chair,—failing to hit it by several feet,—and drew the smooth, troubled
+head down upon her shoulder.
+
+"Stay and have luncheon with George and me," she said, after a half hour
+of confidences. "It will do you good. I'll not breathe a word of what
+you've said to me,—not even to old George. He's getting so nervous
+nowadays that he comes home to lunch and telephones three or four times a
+day. It's an awful strain on him. He doesn't eat a thing, poor dear. I'm
+really quite worried about him. Take a little snooze here on the sofa,
+Anne. You must be worn out. I'll cover you up—"
+
+The door-bell rang.
+
+Lutie started and her jaw fell. "Good gracious! That's—that's Dr. Thorpe
+now. He is the only one who comes up without being announced from
+downstairs. Oh, dear! What shall I—Don't you think you'd better see him,
+Anne?"
+
+Anne had arisen. A warm flush had come into her pale cheeks. She was
+breathing quickly and her eyes were bright.
+
+"I will see him, Lutie. Would you mind leaving us alone together for a
+while? I must make sure of one thing. Then I'll be satisfied."
+
+Lutie regarded her keenly for a moment. "Just remember that you can't
+afford to make a fool of yourself," she said curtly, and went to the door.
+A most extraordinary thought entered Anne's mind, a distinct thought among
+many that were confused: Lutie ought to have a parlour-maid, and she would
+make it her business to see that she had one at once. Poor, plucky little
+thing! And then the door was opened and Thorpe walked into the room.
+
+"Well, how are we this morning?" he inquired cheerily, clasping Lutie's
+hand. "Fine, I see. I happened to be passing with Simmy and thought I'd
+run in and see—" His gaze fell upon the tall, motionless figure on the
+opposite side of the room, and the words died on his lips.
+
+"It's Anne," said Lutie fatuously.
+
+For a moment there was not a sound or a movement in the little room. The
+man was staring over Lutie's head at the slim, elegant figure in the
+modish spring gown,—it was something smart and trig, he knew, and it was
+not black. Then he advanced with his hand extended.
+
+"I am glad to see you back, Anne. I heard you had returned." Their hands
+met in a brief clasp. His face was grave, and a queer pallor had taken the
+place of the warm glow of an instant before.
+
+"Three days ago," she said, and that was all. Her throat was tight and
+dry. He had not taken his eyes from hers. She felt them burning into her
+own, and somehow it hurt,—she knew not why.
+
+"Well, it's good to see you," he mumbled, finding no other words. He
+pulled himself together with an effort. He had not expected to see her
+here. He had dreamed of her during the night just past. "Simmy is waiting
+down below in the car. I just dropped in for a moment. Can't keep him
+waiting, Lutie, so I'll—"
+
+"Won't you spare me a few moments, Braden?" said Anne steadily. "There is
+something that I must say to you. To-morrow will not do. It must be now."
+
+He looked concerned. "Has anything serious—"
+
+"Nothing—yet," she broke in, anticipating his question.
+
+"Sit down, Braden," said Lutie cheerfully. "I'll make myself scarce. I see
+you are down for a big job to-day. Good boy! I told you they'd come your
+way if you waited long enough. It is a big job, isn't it?"
+
+"Ra-_ther_," said he, smiling. "I daresay it will make or break me."
+
+"I should think you'd be frightfully nervous."
+
+"Well, I'm not, strange to say. On the contrary, I'm as fit as a fiddle."
+
+"When do you—perform this operation?" Anne asked, as Lutie left the room.
+
+"This afternoon. He has a superstition about it. Doesn't want it done
+until after banking hours. Queerest idea I've ever known." He spoke in
+quick, jerky sentences.
+
+She held her breath for an instant, and then cried out imploringly: "I
+don't want you to do it, Braden,—I don't want you to do it. If not for my
+sake, then for your own you must refuse to go on with it."
+
+He looked straight into her troubled, frightened eyes. "I suppose you are
+like the rest of them: you think I'm going to kill him, eh?" His voice was
+low and bitter.
+
+She winced, half closing her eyes as if a blow had been aimed at them.
+"Oh, don't say that! How horrible it sounds when you—_speak it_."
+
+He could see that she was trembling, and suddenly experienced an odd
+feeling of contentment. He had seen it in her eyes once more: the love
+that had never faltered although dragged in the dirt, discredited and
+betrayed. She still loved him, and he was glad to know it. He could gloat
+over it.
+
+"I am not afraid to speak it, as you say," he said curtly. Then he pitied
+her. "I'm sorry, Anne. I shouldn't have said it. I think I understand what
+you mean. It's good of you to care. But I am going ahead with it, just the
+same." His jaw was set in the old, resolute way.
+
+"Do you know what they will say if you—fail?" Her voice was husky.
+
+"Yes, I know. I also know why they finally came to me. They haven't any
+hope. They believe that I may—well, at least I will not say _that_, Anne.
+Down in their hearts they all hope,—but it isn't the kind of hope that
+usually precedes an operation. No one has dared to suggest to me that I
+put him out of his misery, but that's what they're expecting,—all of them.
+But they are going to be disappointed. I do not owe anything to James
+Marraville. He is nothing to me. I do not love him as I loved my
+grandfather."
+
+He spoke slowly, with grave deliberation; there was not the slightest
+doubt that he intended her to accept this veiled explanation of his
+present attitude as a confession that he had taken his grandfather's life.
+
+She was silent. She understood. He went on, more hurriedly:
+
+"I can only say to you, Anne, that my grandfather might have gone on
+living for a few weeks or even months. Well, there is no reason why
+Marraville shouldn't go on living for awhile. Do you see what I mean? He
+shall not die to-day if I can help it. He will hang on for weeks, not
+permanently relieved but at least comforted in the belief that his case
+isn't hopeless. I shall do my best." He smiled sardonically. "The
+operation will be called a success, and he will merely go on dying instead
+of having it all over with."
+
+She closed her eyes. "Oh, how cruel it is," she murmured. "How cruel it
+is, after all."
+
+"He will curse me for failing to do my duty," said he grimly. "The world
+will probably say that I am a benefactor to the human race, after all, and
+I will be called a great man because I allow him a few more weeks of
+agony. I may fail, of course. He may not survive the day. But no one will
+be justified in saying that I did not do my best to tide him over for a
+few weeks or months. And what a travesty it will be if I do succeed! Every
+one except James Marraville will praise me to the skies. My job will be
+done, but he will have it all to do over again,—this business of dying."
+
+She held out her hand. Her eyes had filled with tears.
+
+"God be with you, Braden." He took her hand in his, and for a moment
+looked into the swimming eyes.
+
+"You understand _everything_ now, don't you, Anne?" he inquired. His face
+was very white and serious. He released her hand.
+
+"Yes," she answered; "I understand everything. I am glad that you have
+told me. It—it makes no difference; I want you to understand that,
+Braden."
+
+It seemed to her that he would never speak. He was regarding her
+thoughtfully, evidently weighing his next words with great care.
+
+"Three doctors know," he said at last. "They must never find out that you
+know."
+
+Her eyes flashed through the tears. "I am not afraid to have the world
+know," she said quickly.
+
+He shook his head, smiling sadly.
+
+"But I am," he said. It was a long time before she grasped the full
+significance of this surprising admission. When, hours afterward, she came
+to realise all that it meant she knew that he was not thinking of himself
+when he said that he was afraid. He was thinking of her; he had thought of
+her from the first. Now she could only look puzzled and incredulous. It
+was not like him to be afraid of consequences.
+
+"If you are afraid," she demanded quickly, "why do you invite peril this
+afternoon? The chances are against you, Braden. Give it up. Tell them you
+cannot—"
+
+"This afternoon?" he broke in, rather violently. "Good God, Anne, I'm not
+afraid of what is going to happen this afternoon. Marraville isn't going
+to die to-day, poor wretch. I can't afford to let him die." He almost
+snarled the words. "I have told these people that if I fail to take him
+through this business to-day, I'll accept no pay. That is understood. The
+newspapers will be so informed in case of failure. You are shocked. Well,
+it isn't as bad as it sounds. I am in deadly earnest in this matter. It is
+my one great chance. It means more to me to save James Marraville's life
+than it means to him. I'm sorry for him, but he has to go on living, just
+the same. Thank you for being interested. Don't worry about it. I—"
+
+"The evening papers will tell me how it turns out," she said dully. "I
+shall pray for you, Braden."
+
+He turned on her savagely. "Don't do that!" he almost shouted. "I don't
+want your support. I—" Other words surged to his lips but he held them
+back. She drew back as if he had struck her a blow in the face. "I—I beg
+your pardon," he muttered, and then strode across the room to thump
+violently on the door to Lutie's bed-chamber. "Come out! I'm going. Can't
+keep the nation waiting, you know."
+
+Two minutes later Anne and Lutie were alone. The former, inwardly shaken
+despite an outward appearance of composure, declined to remain for
+luncheon, as she had done the day before. Her interest in Lutie and her
+affairs was lost in the contemplation of a reviving sense of self-
+gratification, long dormant but never quite unconscious. She had recovered
+almost instantly from the shock produced by his violent command, and where
+dismay had been there was now a warm, grateful rush of exultation. She
+suspected the meaning of that sudden, fierce lapse into rudeness. Her
+heart throbbed painfully, but with joyous relief. It was not rudeness on
+his part; on the contrary he was paying tribute to her. He was dismayed by
+the feelings he found himself unable to conquer. The outburst was the
+result of a swift realisation that she still had the power to move him in
+spite of all his mighty resolves, in spite even of the contempt he had for
+her.
+
+She walked to the Ritz. It was a long distance from George's home, but she
+went about it gladly in preference to the hurried, pent-up journey down by
+taxi or stage. She wanted to be free and unhampered. She wanted to think,
+to analyse, to speculate on what would happen next. For the present she
+was content to glory in the fact that he had unwittingly betrayed himself.
+
+She was near the Plaza before the one great, insurmountable obstacle arose
+in her mind to confound her joyous calculations. What would it all come
+to, after all? She could never be more to him than she was at this
+instant, for between them lay the truth about the death of Templeton
+Thorpe,—and Templeton Thorpe was her husband. Her exaltation was short-
+lived. The joy went out of her soul. The future looked to be even more
+barren than before the kindly hope sprang up to wave its golden prospects
+before her deluded eyes.
+
+He would never look at the situation from her point of view. Even though
+he found himself powerless to resist the love that was regaining strength
+enough to batter down the wall of prejudice her marriage had created in
+his mind, there would still stand between them his conviction that it
+would be an act of vileness to claim or even covet the wife of the man
+whose life he had taken, not in anger or reprisal but in honest devotion.
+
+Anne was not callous or unfeeling in her readiness to disregard what he
+might be expected to call the ethics of the case. She very sensibly looked
+at the question as one in which the conscience had no part, for the simple
+reason that there was no guilty motive to harass it. If his conscience was
+clear,—and it most certainly was,—there could be no sound reason for him
+to deny himself the right to reclaim that which belonged to him by all the
+laws of nature. On her part there was not the slightest feeling of
+revulsion. She did not look upon his act as a barrier. Her own act in
+betraying him was far more of a barrier than this simple thing that he had
+done. She had believed it to be insurmountable. She had long ago accepted
+as final the belief that he despised her and would go on doing so to the
+end. And now, in the last hour, there had been a revelation. He still
+loved her. His scorn, his contempt, his disgust were not equal to the task
+of subduing the emotion that lived in spite of all of them. But this other
+thing! This thing that he would call _decency_!
+
+All through the afternoon his savage, discordant cry: "Don't do that!"
+rang in her ears. She thrilled and crumpled in turn. The blood ran hot
+once more in her veins. As she looked back over the past year it seemed to
+her that her blood had been cold and sluggish. But now it was warm again
+and tingling. Even the desolating thought that her discovery would yield
+no profit failed to check the riotous, grateful warmth that raced through
+her body from crown to toe. Despair had its innings, but there was always
+compensation in the return of a joy that would not acknowledge itself
+beaten. Joy enough to feel that he could not help loving her! Joy to feel
+that he was hungry too! No matter what happened now she would know that
+she had not lost all of him.
+
+After a while she found herself actually enjoying the prospect of certain
+failure on Braden's part in the case of Marraville. Reviled and excoriated
+beyond endurance, he would take refuge in the haven that she alone could
+open to him. He would come to her and she would go with him, freely and
+gladly, into new places where he could start all over again and—But even
+as she conjured up this sacrificial picture, this false plaisance, her
+cheeks grew hot with shame. The real good that was in Anne Tresslyn leaped
+into revolt. She hated herself for the thought; she could have cursed
+herself. What manner of love was this that could think of self alone? What
+of him? What of the man she loved?
+
+She denied herself to callers. At half-past five she called up the
+hospital and inquired how Mr. Marraville was getting along. She had a
+horrid feeling that the voice at the other end would say that he was dead.
+She found a vast relief in the polite but customary "doing very nicely"
+reply that came languidly over the wires. Anne was not by way of knowing
+that the telephone operators in the hospitals would say very cheerfully
+that "Mr. Washington is doing very nicely," if one were to call up to
+inquire into the condition of the Father of his Country! An "extra" at six
+o'clock announced that the operation had taken place and that Mr.
+Marraville had survived it, although it was too soon to,—and so on and so
+forth.
+
+Then she called Simmy Dodge up on the telephone. Simmy would know if
+anybody knew. And with her customary cleverness and foresightedness she
+called him up at the hospital.
+
+After a long delay Simmy's cheery voice came singing—or rather it was
+barking—into her ear. This had been the greatest day in the life of Simeon
+Dodge. From early morn he had gone about in a state of optimistic unrest.
+He was more excited than he had ever been in his life before,—and yet he
+was beatifically serene. His brow was unclouded, his eyes sparkled and his
+voice rang with all the confidence of extreme felicity. There was no
+question in Simmy's mind as to the outcome. Braden would pull the old
+gentleman through, sure as anything. Absolutely sure, that's what Simmy
+was, and he told other people so.
+
+"Fine as silk!" he shouted back in answer to Anne's low, suppressed
+inquiry. "Never anything like it, Anne, old girl. One of the young doctors
+told me—"
+
+"Has he come out of the ether, Simmy?"
+
+"What say?"
+
+"Is he conscious? Has the ether—"
+
+"I can't say as to that," said Simmy cheerfully. "He's been back in his
+room since five o'clock. That's—let's see what time is it now? Six-
+fourteen. Nearly an hour and a quarter. They all say—"
+
+"Have you see Braden?"
+
+"Sure. He's fagged out, poor chap. Strain something awful. Good Lord, I
+wonder what it must have been to him when it came so precious near to
+putting me out of business. I thought I was dying at half-past four. I
+never expected to live to see Mr. Marraville out of the operating-room.
+Had to take something for medicinal purposes. I knew all along that Braden
+could do the job like a—"
+
+"Where is he now?"
+
+"Last I heard of him he was back in his room with the house doctor and—"
+
+"I mean Braden."
+
+"What are you sore about, Anne?" complained Simmy. Her voice had sounded
+rather querulous to him. "I thought you meant the patient. Brady is up
+there, too, I guess. Sh! I can't say anything more. A lot of reporters,
+are coming this way."
+
+The morning papers announced that James Marraville had passed a
+comfortable night and that not only Dr. Thorpe but other physicians who
+were attending him expressed the confident opinion that if he continued to
+gain throughout the day and if nothing unforeseen occurred there was no
+reason why he should not recover. He had rallied from the anæsthetic, his
+heart was good, and there was no temperature. Members of the family were
+extremely hopeful. His two sons-in-law—who were spokesmen for the other
+members of the family—were united in the opinion that Dr. Thorpe had
+performed a miracle. Dr. Thorpe, himself, declined to be interviewed. He
+referred the newspaper men to the other surgeons and physicians who were
+interested in the case.
+
+There was an underlying note of dismay, rather deftly obscured, in all of
+the newspaper accounts, however. Not one of them appeared to have
+recovered from the surprise that had thrown all of their plans out of
+order. They had counted on James Marraville's death and had prepared
+themselves accordingly. There were leading editorials in every office, and
+columns of obituary matter; and there were far from vague allusions to the
+young doctor who performed the operation. And here was the man alive! It
+was really more shocking than if he had died, as he was expected to do. It
+is no wonder, therefore, that the first accounts were almost entirely
+without mention of the doctor who had upset all of their calculations. He
+hadn't lived up to the requirements. The worst of it all was that Mr.
+Marraville's failure to expire on the operating table forever deprived
+them of the privilege of saying, invidiously, that young Doctor Thorpe had
+been called in as the last resort. It would take them a day or two, no
+doubt, to adjust themselves to the new situation, and then, if the
+millionaire was still showing signs of surviving, they would burst forth
+into praise of the marvellous young surgeon who had startled the entire
+world by his performance!
+
+In the meantime, there was still a chance that Mr. Marraville might die,
+so it was better to hesitate and be on the safe side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+James Marraville called Thorpe a coward and a poltroon. This was a week
+after the operation. They were alone in the room. For days his wondering,
+questioning eyes had sought those of the man on whom he had depended for
+everlasting peace, and always there had been a look of reproach in them.
+Not in words, but still plainly, he was asking why he still lived, why
+this man had not done the thing that was expected of him. Every one about
+him was talking of the marvellous, incredible result of the operation;
+every one was looking cheerful and saying that he would "soon be as good
+as new." And all the while he was lying there, weak and beaten, wondering
+why they lied to him, and why Man as well as God had been so cruel to him.
+He was not deceived. He knew that he had it all to live over again. He
+knew what they meant when they said that it had been very successful! And
+so, one day, in all the bitterness of his soul, he cursed the man who had
+given him a few more months to live.
+
+But there were other men and women who did not want to die. They wanted
+very dearly to live, and they had been afraid to risk an operation. Now
+that the world was tumbling over itself to proclaim the greatness of the
+surgeon who had saved James Marraville's life, the faint-hearted of all
+degrees flowed in a stream up to his doors and implored him to name his
+own price.... So goes the world....
+
+The other doctors knew, and Braden knew, and most thoroughly of all James
+Marraville knew, that while the operation was a wonderful feat in surgery,
+it might just as well have remained undone. The young doctor simply had
+done all that was in the power of man to do for a fellow creature. He had
+cheated Death out of an easy victory, but Death would come again and sit
+down beside James Marraville to wait for another day.
+
+Down near Washington Square, Wade blinked his eyes and shook his head, and
+always re-read the reports from the sick-room. He was puzzled and
+sometimes there was a faraway look in his eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lutie's baby came. He came long after midnight, and if he had been given
+the power at birth to take intelligent notice of things, he would have
+been vastly astonished to hear that his grandmother had been sitting up in
+an adjoining room with her son and daughter, anxiously, even fearfully,
+awaiting his advent into the world. And he would have been further
+astonished and perhaps distressed if any one had told him that his granny
+cried a little over him, and refused to go to her own home until she was
+quite sure that his little mother was all right. Moreover, he would have
+been gravely impressed by the presence of the celebrated Dr. Thorpe, and
+the extraordinary agony of that great big tall man who cowered and
+shivered and who wouldn't even look at him because he had eyes and thought
+for no one but the little mother. Older and wiser persons would have
+revealed considerable interest in the certificate of deposit that his
+grandmother laid on the bed beside him. He was quite a rich little boy
+without knowing it. Thirty thousand dollars is not to be sneezed at, and
+it would be highly unjust to say that it was a sneeze that sent his
+grandmother, his aunt and his father into hysterics of alarm.
+
+They called him Carnahan Tresslyn. He represented a distinct phase in the
+regeneration of a proud and haughty family.
+
+A few weeks later Anne took a house up among the hills of Westchester
+County, and moved Lutie and the baby out into the country. It did not
+occur to her to think that she was making a personal sacrifice in going up
+there to spend the hot months.
+
+Percy Wintermill informed her one day that he was going to ask her to
+marry him when the proper time arrived. It would be the third time, he
+reminded her. He was being forehanded, that was all,—declaring himself in
+advance of all others and thereby securing, as he put it, the privilege of
+priority. She was not very much moved by the preparation of Percy. In
+fact, she treated the matter with considerable impatience.
+
+"Really, you know, Percy," she said, "I'm getting rather fed up with
+refusing you. I'm sure I've done it more than three times. Why don't you
+ask some girl who will have you?"
+
+"That's just the point," said he frankly. "If I asked some girl who would
+have me, she'd take me, and then where would you come in? I don't want any
+one but you, Anne, and—"
+
+"Sorry, Perce, but it's no use," said she briefly.
+
+"Well, I haven't asked you yet," he reminded her. After some minutes,
+spent by him in rumination and by her in wondering why she didn't send him
+away, he inquired, quite casually: "Anybody else in mind, old girl?" She
+merely stared at him. "Hope it isn't Brady Thorpe," he went on. "He's one
+of my best friends. I'd hate to think that I'd have to—"
+
+"Go home, Percy," she said. "I'm going out,—and I'm late already. Thanks
+for the orchids. Don't bother to send any more. It's just a waste of
+money, old fellow. I sha'n't marry you. I sha'n't marry any one except the
+man with whom I fall desperately, horribly in love,—and I'm not going to
+fall in love with you, so run away."
+
+"You weren't in love with old man Thorpe, were you?" he demanded, flushing
+angrily.
+
+"I haven't the right to be offended by that beastly remark, Percy," she
+said quietly; "and yet I don't think you ought to have said it to me."
+
+"It was meant only to remind you that it won't be necessary for you to
+fall desperately, horribly in love with me," he explained, and was
+suddenly conscious of being very uncomfortable for the first time in his
+life. He did not like the expression in her eyes.
+
+Her shoulders drooped a little. "It isn't very comforting to feel that any
+one of my would-be husbands could be satisfied to get along without being
+loved by me. No doubt I shall be asked by others besides you, Percy. I
+hope you do not voice the sentiments of all the rest of them."
+
+"I'm sorry I said it," he said, and seemed a little bewildered immediately
+afterwards. He really couldn't make himself out. He went away a few
+minutes later, vaguely convinced that perhaps it wouldn't be worth while
+to ask her, after all. This was a new, strange Anne, and it would hurt to
+be refused by her. He had never thought of it in just that way—before.
+
+"So that is the price they put upon me, is it?" Anne said to herself. She
+was regarding herself rather humbly in the mirror as she pinned on her
+hat. "I am still expected to marry without loving the man who takes me. It
+isn't to be exacted of me. Don't they credit me with a capacity for
+loving? What do they think I am? What do they think my blood is made of,
+and the flesh on my bones? Do they think that because I am beautiful I can
+love no one but myself? Don't they think I'm human? How can any one look
+at me without feeling that I'd rather love than be loved? The poor fools!
+Any woman can be loved. What we all want more than anything else is to
+_love_. And I love—I _do_ love! And I _am_ beloved. And all the rest of my
+life I shall love; I shall gloat over the fact that I love; I shall love,
+love, _love_ with all that there is in me, all that there is in my body
+and my soul. The poor fools."
+
+And all that was in her body and her soul was prepared to give itself to
+the man who loved her. She wanted him to have her for his own. She pitied
+him even more than she pitied herself.
+
+Anne had no illusions concerning herself. Mawkish sentimentality had no
+place in her character. She was straightforward and above board with
+herself, and she would not cheapen herself in her own eyes. Another woman
+might have gone down on her knees, whimpering a cry for forgiveness, but
+not Anne Tresslyn. She would ask him to forgive her but she would not lie
+to herself by prostrating her body at his feet. There was firm, noble
+stuff in Anne Tresslyn. It was born in her to know that the woman who goes
+down on her knees before her man never quite rises to her full height
+again. She will always be in the position of wondering whether she stayed
+on her knees long enough to please him. The thought had never entered
+Anne's head to look anywhere but straight into Braden's eyes. She was not
+afraid to have him see that she was honest! He could see that she had no
+lies to tell him. And she was as sorry for him as she was for herself....
+
+She saw him often during the days of Lutie's convalescence, but never
+alone. There was considerable comfort for her in the thought that he made
+a distinct point of not being alone with her. One day she said to him:
+
+"I have my car outside, Braden. Shall I run you over to St. Luke's?"
+
+It was a test. She knew that he was going to the hospital, and intended to
+take the elevated down to 110th Street. His smile puzzled her.
+
+"No, thank you." Then, after a moment, he added: "If people saw me driving
+about in a prosperous looking touring-car they'd be justified in thinking
+that my fees are exorbitant, and I should lose more than I'd gain."
+
+She flushed slightly. "By the same argument they might think you were
+picking up germs in the elevated or the subway."
+
+"I shun the subway," he said.
+
+Anne looked straight into his eyes and said—to herself: "I love you." He
+must have sensed the unspoken words, for his eyes hardened.
+
+"Moreover, Anne, I shouldn't think it would be necessary for me to remind
+you that—" he hesitated, for he suddenly realised that he was about to
+hurt her, and it was not what he wanted to do—"that there are other and
+better reasons why—"
+
+He stopped there, and never completed the sentence. She was still looking
+into his eyes and was still saying to herself: "I love you." It was as if
+a gentle current of electricity played upon every nerve in his body. He
+quivered under the touch of something sweet and mysterious. Exaltation was
+his response to the magnetic wave that carried her unspoken words into his
+heart. She had not uttered a sound and yet he heard the words. How many
+times had she cried those delicious words into his ear while he held her
+close in his arms? How many times had she looked at him like this while
+actually speaking the words aloud in answer to his appeal?
+
+They were standing but a few feet apart. He could take a step forward and
+she would be in his arms,—that glorious, adorable, ineffably feminine
+creation,—in his arms,—in his arms,—
+
+It was she who broke the spell. Her voice sounded far off—and exhausted,
+as if it came from her lips without breath behind it.
+
+"It will always be just the same, Braden," she said, and he knew that it
+was an acknowledgment of his unfinished reminder. She was promising him
+something.
+
+He took a firm grip on himself. "I'm glad that you see things as they are,
+Anne. Now, I must be off. Thanks just the same for—"
+
+"Oh, don't mention it," she said carelessly. "I'm glad that you see things
+too as they are, Braden." She held out her hand. There was no restraint in
+her manner. "I'm sorry, Braden. Things might have been so different. I'm
+sorry."
+
+"Good God!" he burst out. "If you had only been—" He broke off, resolutely
+compressing his lips. His jaw was set again in the strong old way that she
+knew so well.
+
+She nodded her head slowly. "If I had only been some one else instead of
+myself," she said, "it would not have happened."
+
+He turned toward the door, stopped short and then turned to face her.
+There was a strange expression in his grey eyes, not unlike diffidence.
+
+"Percy told me last night that you have refused to marry him. I'm glad
+that you did that, Anne. I want you to know that I am glad, that I
+felt—oh, I cannot tell you how I felt when he told me."
+
+She eyed him closely for a moment. "You thought that I—I might have
+accepted him. Is that it?"
+
+"I—I hadn't thought of it at all," he said, confusedly.
+
+"Well," she said, and a slight pallor began to reveal itself in her face,
+"I tried marrying for money once, Braden. The next time I shall try
+marrying for love."
+
+He stared. "You don't mince words, do you?" he said, frowning.
+
+"No," she said. "Percy will tell you that, I fancy," she added, and
+smiled. "He can't understand my not marrying him. He will be worth fifteen
+or twenty millions, you know." The irony in her voice was directed
+inwardly, not outwardly. "Perhaps it would be safer for him to wait before
+taking too much for granted. You see, I haven't actually refused him. I
+merely refused to give him an option. He—"
+
+"Oh, Anne, don't jest about—" he began, and then as her eyes fell suddenly
+under his gaze and her lip trembled ever so slightly,—"By Jove, I—I
+sha'n't misjudge you in that way again. Good-bye." This time he held out
+his hand to her.
+
+She shook her head. "I've changed my mind. I'm never going to say good-bye
+to you again."
+
+"Never say good-bye? Why, that's—"
+
+"Why should I say good-bye to you when you are always with me?" she broke
+in. Noting the expression in his eyes she went on ruthlessly,
+breathlessly. "Do you think I ought to be ashamed to say such a thing to
+you? Well, I'm not. It doesn't hurt my pride to say it. Not in the least."
+She paused for an instant and then went on boldly. "I fancy I am more
+honest with myself than you are with yourself, Braden."
+
+He looked steadily into her eyes. "You are wrong there," he said quietly.
+Then bluntly: "By God, Anne, if it were not for the one terrible thing
+that lies between us, I could—I could—"
+
+"Go on," she said, her heart standing still. "You can at least _say_ it to
+me. I don't ask for anything more."
+
+"But why say it?" he cried out bitterly. "Will it help matters in the
+least for me to confess that I am weak and—"
+
+She laughed aloud, unable to resist the nervous excitement that thrilled
+her. "Weak? You weak? Look back and see if you can find a single thing to
+prove that you are weak. You needn't be afraid. You are strong enough to
+keep me in my place. You cannot put yourself in jeopardy by completing
+what you started out to say. 'If it were not for the one terrible thing
+that lies between us, I could—I could—' Well, what could you do? Overlook
+my treachery? Forget that I did an even more terrible thing than you did?
+Forgive me and take me back and trust me all over again? Is that what
+you would have said to me?"
+
+"That is what I might have said," he admitted, almost savagely, "if I had
+not come to my senses in time."
+
+Her eyes softened. The love-light glowed in their depths. "I am not as I
+was two years ago, Braden," she said. "I'd like you to know that, at
+least."
+
+"I dare say that is quite true," he said harshly. "You got what you went
+after and now that you've got it you can very comfortably repent."
+
+She winced. "I am not repenting."
+
+"Would you be willing to give up all that you gained out of that
+transaction and go back to where my grandfather found you?" he demanded?
+
+"Do you expect me to lie to you?" she asked with startling candour.
+
+"No. I know you will not lie."
+
+"Would it please you to have me say that I would willingly give up all
+that I gained?"
+
+"I see what you mean. It would be a lie."
+
+"Would it please you to have me give it all up?" she insisted.
+
+He was thoughtful. "No," he said candidly. "You earned it, you are
+entitled to it. It is filthy, dirty money, but you earned it. You do not
+deny that it was your price. That's the long and the short of it."
+
+"Will you let me confess something to you? Something that will make it all
+seem more despicable than before?"
+
+"Good Lord, I don't see how that can be possible!"
+
+"I did not expect to lose you, Braden, when I married Mr. Thorpe. I
+counted on you in the end. I was so sure of myself,—and of you. Wait! Let
+me finish. If I had dreamed that I was to lose you, I should not have
+married Mr. Thorpe. That makes it worse, doesn't it?" There was a note of
+appeal in her voice.
+
+"Yes, yes,—it makes it worse," he groaned.
+
+"I was young and—over-confident," she murmured. "I looked ahead to the day
+when I should be free again and you would be added to the—well, the gains.
+Now you know the whole truth about me. I was counting on you, looking
+forward to you, even as I stood beside him and took the vows. You were
+always uppermost in my calculations. I never left you out of them. Even to
+this day, to this very moment, I continue to count on you. I shall never
+be able to put the hope out of my mind. I have tried it and failed. You
+may despise me if you will, but nothing can kill this mean little thing
+that lurks in here. I don't know what you will call it, Braden, but I call
+it loyalty to you."
+
+"Loyalty! My God!" he cried out hoarsely.
+
+"Yes, loyalty," she cried. "Mean as I am, mean as I have been, I have
+never wavered an instant in my love for you. Oh, I'm not pleading for
+anything. I'm not begging. I don't ask for anything,—not even your good
+opinion. I am only telling you the truth. Mr. Thorpe knew it all. He knew
+that I loved you, and he knew that I counted on having you after he was
+out of the way. And here is something else that you never knew, or
+suspected. He believed that my love for you, my eagerness, my longing to
+be free to call you back again, would be the means of releasing him from
+the thing that was killing him. He counted on me to—I will put it as
+gently as I can—to free myself. I believe in my soul that he married me
+with that awful idea in his mind."
+
+For a long time they were silent. Braden was staring at her, horror in his
+eyes. She remained standing before him, motionless. Lutie's nurse passed
+through the little hall outside, but they did not see or hear her. A door
+closed softly; the faint crying of the baby went unheard.
+
+"You are wrong there," he said at last, thickly. "I happen to know what
+his motives were, Anne."
+
+"Oh, I know," she said wearily. "To prove to you how utterly worthless I
+am,—or was. Well, it may have been that. I hope it was. I would like to
+think it of him instead of the other thing. I would like to think of him
+as sacrificing himself for your sake, instead of planning to sacrifice me
+for his sake. It is a terrible thought, Braden. He begged me to give him
+those tablets, time and again. I—I couldn't have done that, not even with
+you as the prize." She shuddered.
+
+A queer, indescribable chill ran through his veins. "Do you—have you ever
+thought that he may have held you out as a prize—for me?"
+
+"You mean?" She went very white. "God above us, no! If I thought _that_,
+Braden, then there would be something lying between us, something that
+even such as I could not overcome."
+
+"Just the same," he went on grimly, "he went to his death with a word of
+praise on his lips for you, Anne. He told me you were deserving of
+something better than the fate he had provided for you. He was sorry.
+It—it may have been that he was pleading your cause, that—"
+
+"I would like to think that of him," she cried eagerly, "even though his
+praise fell upon deaf ears."
+
+She turned away from him and sank wearily into a chair. For a minute or
+two he stood there regarding her in silence. He was sorry for her. It had
+taken a good deal of courage to humble herself in his eyes, as she had
+done by her frank avowal.
+
+"Is it any satisfaction to your pride, Anne," he said slowly, after
+deliberate thought, "to know that I love you and always will love you, in
+spite of everything?"
+
+Her answer was a long time in coming, and it surprised him when it did
+come.
+
+"If I had any pride left I should hate you for humbling it in that manner,
+Braden," she said, little red spots appearing on her cheeks. "I am not
+asking for your pity."
+
+"I did not mean to—" he cried impulsively. For an instant he threw all
+restraint aside. The craving mastered him. He sprang forward.
+
+She closed her eyes quickly, and held her breath.
+
+He was almost at her side when he stopped short. Then she heard the rush
+of his feet and, the next instant, the banging of the hall door. He was
+gone! She opened her eyes slowly, and stared dully, hazily before her. For
+a long time she sat as one unconscious. The shock of realisation left her
+without the strength or the desire to move. Comprehension was slow in
+coming to her in the shock of disappointment. She could not realise that
+she was not in his arms. He had leaped forward to clasp her, she had felt
+his outstretched arms encircling her,—it was hard to believe that she sat
+there alone and that the ecstasy was not real.
+
+Tears filled her eyes. She did not attempt to wipe them away. She could
+only stare, unblinking, at the closed door. Sobs were in her throat; she
+was first cold, then hot as with a fever.
+
+Slowly her breath began to come again, and with it the sobs. Her body
+relaxed, she closed her eyes again and let her head fall back against the
+chair, and for many minutes she remained motionless, still with the
+weakness of one who has passed through a great crisis.... Long
+afterward,—she did not know how long it was,—she laid her arms upon the
+window-sill at her side and buried her face on them. The sobs died away
+and the tears ceased flowing. Then she raised her eyes and stared down
+into the hot, crowded street far below. She looked upon sordid, cheap,
+ugly things down there, and she had been looking at paradise such a little
+while ago.
+
+Suddenly she sprang to her feet. Her tall, glorious figure was extended to
+its full height, and her face was transformed with the light of
+exaltation.
+
+A key grated noisily in the hall door. The next instant it swung violently
+open and her brother George strode in upon her,—big, clear-eyed, happy-
+faced and eager.
+
+"Hello!" he cried, stopping short. "I popped in early to-day. Matter of
+great importance to talk over with my heir. Wait a second, Anne. I'll be
+back—I say, what's the matter? You look posi-_tive_-ly as if you were on
+the point of bursting into grand opera. Going to sing?"
+
+"I'm singing all over, Georgie,—all over, inside and out," she cried
+joyously.
+
+"Gee whiz!" he gasped. "Has the baby begun to talk?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+She did not meet him again at Lutie's. Purposely, and with a cunning
+somewhat foreign to her sex, she took good care that he should not be
+there when she made her daily visits. She made it an object to telephone
+every day, ostensibly to inquire about Lutie's condition, and she never
+failed to ask what the doctor had said. In that way she knew that he had
+made his visit and had left the apartment. She would then drive up into
+Harlem and sit happily with her sister-in-law and the baby, whom she
+adored with a fervour that surprised not only herself but the mother,
+whose ideas concerning Anne were undergoing a rapid and enduring
+reformation.
+
+She was shocked and not a little disillusioned one day, however, when
+Lutie, now able to sit up and chatter to her heart's content, remarked,
+with a puzzled frown on her pretty brow:
+
+"Dr. Braden must be terribly rushed with work nowadays, Anne. For the last
+week he has been coming here at the most unearthly hour in the morning,
+and dashing away like a shot just as soon as he can. Good gracious, we're
+hardly awake when he gets here. Never later than eight o'clock."
+
+Anne's temple came down in a heap. He wasn't playing the game at all as
+she had expected. He was avoiding _her_. She was dismayed for an instant,
+and then laughed outright quite frankly at her own disenchantment.
+
+Lutie looked at her with deep affection in her eyes. "You ought to have a
+little baby of your own, Anne," she said.
+
+"It's much nicer having yours," said Anne. "He's such a fat one."
+
+Two weeks later they were all up in the country, and George was saying
+twice a day at least that Anne was the surprise and comfort of his old
+age. She was as gay as a lark. She sang,—but not grand opera selections.
+Her days were devoted to the cheerful occupation of teaching young
+Carnahan how to smile and how to count his toes.
+
+But in the dark hours of the night she was not so serene. Then was her
+time for reflection, for wonder, for speculation. Was life to be always
+like this? Were her days to be merry and confident, and her nights as full
+of loneliness and doubt? Was her craving never to be satisfied? Sometimes
+when George and Lutie went off to bed and left her sitting alone on the
+dark, screened-in veranda, looking down from the hills across the sombre
+Hudson, she almost cried aloud in her desolation. Of what profit was love
+to her? Was she always to go on being alone with the love that consumed
+her?
+
+The hot, dry summer wore away. She steadfastly refused to go to the cool
+seashore, she declined the countless invitations that came to her, and she
+went but seldom into the city. Her mother was at Newport. They had had one
+brief, significant encounter just before the elder woman went off to the
+seashore. No doubt her mother considered herself entitled to a fair share
+of "the spoils," but she would make no further advances. She had failed
+earlier in the game; she would not humble herself again. And so, one hot
+day in August, just before going to the country, Anne went up to her old
+home, determined to have it out with her mother.
+
+"Why are you staying in town through all of this heat, mother dear?" she
+asked. Her mother was looking tired and listless. She was showing her age,
+and that was the one thing that Anne could not look upon with complacency.
+
+"I can't afford to go junketing about this year," said her mother, simply.
+"This awful war has upset—"
+
+"The war hasn't had time to upset anything over here, mother. It's only
+been going on a couple of weeks. You ought to go away, dearest, for a good
+long snooze in the country. You'll be as young as a débutante by the time
+the season sets in."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn smiled aridly. "Am I beginning to show my age so much as all
+this, Anne?" she lamented. "I'm just a little over fifty. That isn't old
+in these days, my dear."
+
+"You look worried, not old," said her daughter, sympathetically. "Is it
+money?"
+
+"It's always money," admitted Mrs. Tresslyn. "I may as well make up my
+mind to retrench, to live a little more simply. You would think that I
+should be really quite well-to-do nowadays, having successfully gotten rid
+of my principal items of expense. But I will be quite frank with you,
+Anne. I am still trying to pay off obligations incurred before I lost my
+excellent son and daughter. You were luxuries, both of you, my dear."
+
+Anne was shocked. "Do you mean to say that you are still paying off—still
+paying up for _us_? Good heavens, mamma! Why, we couldn't have got you
+into debt to that—"
+
+"Don't jump to conclusions, my dear," her mother interrupted. "The debts
+were not all due to you and George. I had a few of my own. What I mean to
+say is that, combining all of them, they form quite a handsome amount."
+
+"Tell me," said Anne determinedly, "tell me just how much of it should be
+charged up to George and me."
+
+"I haven't the remotest idea. You see, I was above keeping books. What are
+you trying to get at? A way to square up with me? Well, my dear, you can't
+do that, you know. You don't owe me anything. Whatever I spent on you, I
+spent cheerfully, gladly, and without an idea of ever receiving a penny in
+the shape of recompense. That's the way with a mother, Anne. No matter
+what she may do for her children, no matter how much she may sacrifice for
+them, she does it without a single thought for herself. That is the best
+part of being a mother. A wife may demand returns from her husband, but a
+mother never thinks of asking anything of her children. I am sure that
+even worse mothers than I will tell you the same. We never ask for
+anything in return but a little selfish pleasure in knowing that we have
+borne children that are invariably better than the children that any other
+mother may have brought into the world. No, you owe me nothing, Anne. Put
+it out of your mind."
+
+Anne listened in amazement. "But if you are hard-up, mother dear, and on
+account of the money you were obliged to spend on us—because we were both
+spoiled and selfish—why, it is only right and just that your children, if
+they can afford to do so, should be allowed to turn the tables on you. It
+shouldn't be so one-sided, this little selfish pleasure that you mention.
+I am rich. I have a great deal more than I need. I have nearly a hundred
+thousand a year. You—"
+
+"Has any one warned you not to talk too freely about it in these days of
+income tax collectors?" broke in her mother, with a faint smile.
+
+"Pooh! Simmy attends to that for me. I don't understand a thing about it.
+Now, see here, mother, I insist that it is my right,—not my duty, but my
+right—to help you out of the hole. You would do it for me. You've done it
+for George, time and again. How much do you need?"
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn regarded her daughter thoughtfully. "Back of all this, I
+suppose, is the thought that it was I who made a rich girl of you. You
+feel that it is only right that you should share the spoils with your
+partner, not with your mother."
+
+"Once and for all, mother, let me remind you that I do not blame you for
+making a rich woman of me. I did not have to do it, you know. I am not the
+sort that can be driven or coerced. I made my own calculations and I took
+my own chances. You were my support but not my _commander_. The super-
+virtuous girls you read about in books are always blaming their mothers
+for such marriages as mine, and so do the comic papers. It's all bosh.
+Youth abhors old age. It loves itself too well. But we needn't discuss
+responsibilities. The point is this: I have more money than I know what to
+do with, so I want to help you out. It isn't because I think it is my
+duty, or that I owe it to you, but because I love you, mother. If you had
+forced me into marrying Mr. Thorpe, I should hate you now. But I don't,—I
+love you dearly. I want you to let me love you. You are so hard to get
+close to,—so hard to—"
+
+"My dear, my dear," cried her mother, coming up to her and laying her
+hands on the tall girl's shoulders, "you have paid me in full now. What
+you have just said pays off all the debts. I was afraid that my children
+hated me."
+
+"You poor old dear!" cried Anne, her eyes shining. "If you will only let
+me show you how much I can love you. We are pretty much alike, mother, you
+and I. We—"
+
+"No!" cried out the other fiercely. "I do not want you to say that. I do
+not want you to be like me. Never say that to me again. I want you to be
+happy, and you will never be happy if you are like me."
+
+"Piffle!" said Anne, and kissed her mother soundly. And she knew then, as
+she had always known, that her mother was not and never could be a happy
+woman. Even in her affection for her own children she was the spirit of
+selfishness. She loved them for what they meant to her and not for
+themselves. She was consistent. She knew herself better than any one else
+knew her.
+
+"Now, tell me how much you need," went on Anne, eagerly. "I've hated to
+broach the subject to you. It didn't seem right that I should. But I don't
+care now. I want to do all that I can."
+
+"I will not offend you, or insult you, Anne, by saying that you are a good
+girl,—a better one than I thought you would ever be. You can't help me,
+however. Don't worry about me. I shall get on, thank you."
+
+"Just the same, I insist on paying your bills, and setting you straight
+once more for another fling. And you are going to Newport this week. Come,
+now, mother dear, let's get it over with. Tell me about _everything_. You
+may hop into debt again just as soon as you like, but I'll feel a good
+deal better if I know that it isn't on my account. It isn't right that you
+should still have George and me hanging about your neck like millstones.
+Come! I insist. Let's figure it all up."
+
+An hour afterward, she said to her mother: "I'll make out one check to you
+covering everything, mother. It will look better if you pay them yourself.
+Thirty-seven thousand four hundred and twelve dollars. That's everything,
+is it,—you're sure?"
+
+"Everything," said Mrs. Tresslyn, settling back in her chair. "I will not
+attempt to thank you, Anne. You see, I didn't thank Lutie when she threw
+her money in my face, for somehow I knew that I'd give it all back to her
+again. Well, you may have to wait longer than she did, my dear, but this
+will all come back to you. I sha'n't live forever, you know."
+
+Anne kissed her. "You are a wonder, mother dear. You wouldn't come off of
+your high-horse for anything, would you? By Jove, that's what I like most
+in you. You never knuckle."
+
+"My dear, you are picking up a lot of expressions from Lutie."
+
+The early evenings at Anne's place in the country were spent solely in
+discussions of the great war. There was no other topic. The whole of the
+civilised world was talking of the stupendous conflict that had burst upon
+it like a crash out of a clear sky. George came home loaded down with the
+latest extras and all of the regular editions of the afternoon papers.
+
+"By gemini," he was in the habit of saying, "it's a lucky thing for those
+Germans that Lutie got me to reenlist with her a year ago. I'd be on my
+way over there by this time, looking for real work. Gee, Anne, that's one
+thing I could do as well as anybody. I'm big enough to stop a lot of
+bullets. We'll never see another scrap like this. It's just my luck to be
+happily married when it bursts out, too."
+
+"I am sure you would have gone," said Lutie serenely. "I'm glad I captured
+you in time. It saves the Germans an awful lot of work."
+
+The smashing of Belgium, the dash of the great German army toward Paris,
+the threatened disaster to the gay capital, the sickening conviction that
+nothing could check the tide of guns and men,—all these things bore down
+upon them with a weight that seemed unbearable. And then came the battle
+of the Marne! Von Kluck's name was on the lips of every man, woman and
+child in the United States of America. Would they crush him? Was Paris
+safe? What was the matter with England? And then, the personal element
+came into the situation for Anne and her kind: the names of the officers
+who had fallen, snuffed out in Belgium and France. Nearly every day
+brought out the name of some one she had known, a few of them quite well.
+There were the gallant young Belgians who had come over for the horse-
+shows, and the polo-players she had known in England, and the gay young
+noblemen,—their names brought the war nearer home and sickened her.
+
+As time went on the horrors of the great conflict were deprived, through
+incessant repetition, of the force to shock a world now accustomed to the
+daily slaughter of thousands. Humanity had got used to war. War was no
+longer a novelty. People read of great battles in which unprecedented
+numbers of men were slain, and wondered how much of truth was in the
+reports. War no longer horrified the distant on-looker. The sufferings of
+the Belgians were of greater interest to the people of America than the
+sufferings of the poor devils in the trenches or on the battle lines. A
+vast wave of sympathy was sweeping the land and purses were touched as
+never before. War was on parade. The world turned out en masse to see the
+spectacle. The heart of every good American was touched by what he saw,
+and the hand of every man was held out to stricken Belgium, nor was any
+hand empty. Belgium presented the grewsome spectacle, and the world paid
+well for the view it was having.
+
+It was late in November when Anne and the others came down to the city,
+and by that time the full strength of the movement to help the sufferers
+had been reached. People were fighting for the Belgians, but with their
+hearts instead of their hands. The stupendous wave of sympathy was at its
+height. It rolled across the land and then across the sea. People were
+swept along by its mighty rush. Anne Thorpe was caught up in the maelstrom
+of human energy.
+
+Something fine in her nature, however, caused Anne to shrink from public
+benefactions. She realised that a world that was charitable to the
+Belgians was not so apt to be charitable toward her. While she did not
+contribute anonymously to the fund, she let it be distinctly understood
+that her name was not to be published in any of the lists of donors,
+except in a single instance when she gave a thousand-dollars. That much,
+at least, would be expected of her and she took some comfort in the belief
+that the world would not charge her with self-exploitation on the money
+she had received from Templeton Thorpe. Other gifts and contributions were
+never mentioned in the press by the committees in charge. She gave
+liberally, not only to the sufferers on the other side of the Atlantic but
+to the poor of New York, and she steadfastly declined to serve on any of
+the relief committees.
+
+Never until now had she appreciated how thin-skinned she was. It is not to
+be inferred that she shut herself up and affected a life of seclusion. As
+a matter of fact, she went out a great deal, but invariably among friends
+and to small, intimate affairs.
+
+Not once in the months that followed the scene in Lutie's sitting-room did
+she encounter Braden Thorpe. She heard of him frequently. He was very
+busy. He went nowhere except where duty called. There was not a moment in
+her days, however, when her thoughts were not for him. Her eyes were
+always searching the throngs on Fifth Avenue in quest of his figure; in
+restaurants she looked eagerly over the crowded tables in the hope that
+she might see actually the face that was always before her, night and day.
+Be it said to her credit, she resolutely abstained from carrying her quest
+into quarters where she might be certain of seeing him, of meeting him, of
+receiving recognition from him. She avoided the neighbourhood in which his
+offices were located, she shunned the streets which he would most
+certainly traverse. While she longed for him, craved him with all the
+hunger of a starved soul, she was content to wait. He loved her. She
+thrived on the joy of knowing this to be true. He might never come to her,
+but she knew that it would never be possible for her to go to him unless
+he called her to him.
+
+Then, one day in early January, she crumpled up under the shock of seeing
+his name in the headlines of her morning newspaper.
+
+He was going to the front!
+
+For a moment she was blind. The page resolved itself into a thick mass of
+black. She was in bed when the paper was brought to her with her coffee.
+She had been lying there sweetly thinking of him. Up to the instant her
+eyes fell upon the desolating headline she had been warm and snug and
+tingling with life just aroused. And then she was as cold as ice,
+stupefied. It was a long time before she was able to convince herself that
+the type was really telling her something that she would have to believe.
+He was going to the war!
+
+Thorpe was one of a half-dozen American surgeons who were going over on
+the steamer sailing that day to give their services to the French. The
+newspaper spoke of him in glowing terms. His name stood out above all the
+others, for he was the one most notably in the public eye at the moment.
+The others, just as brave and self-sacrificing as he, were briefly
+mentioned and that was all. He alone was in the headlines, he alone was
+discussed. No one was to be allowed to forget that he was the clever young
+surgeon who had saved the great Marraville. The account dwelt upon the
+grave personal sacrifice he was making in leaving New York just as the
+world was beginning to recognise his great genius and ability. Prosperity
+was knocking at his door, fame was holding out its hand to him, and yet he
+was casting aside all thought of self-aggrandisement, all personal
+ambition in order to go forth and serve humanity in fields where his name
+would never be mentioned except in a cry for help from strong men who had
+known no fear.
+
+Sailing that day! Anne finally grasped the meaning of the words. She would
+not see him again. He would go away without a word to her, without giving
+her the chance to say good-bye, despite her silly statement that she would
+never utter the words again where he was concerned.
+
+Slowly the warm glow returned to her blood. Her brain cleared, and she was
+able to think, to grasp at the probable significance of his action in
+deserting New York and his coveted opportunities. Something whispered to
+her that he was going away because of his own sufferings and not those of
+the poor wretches at the front. Her heart swelled with pity. There was no
+triumph in the thought that he was running away because of his love for
+her. She needed no such proof as this to convince her that his heart was
+more loyal to her than his mind would have it be. She cried a little ...
+and then got up and called for a messenger boy.
+
+This brief message went down to the ship:
+
+"God be with you. I still do not say good-bye, just God be with you
+always, as I shall be. Anne."
+
+She did not leave the hotel until long after the ship had sailed. He did
+not telephone. There were a dozen calls on the wire that morning, but she
+had her maid take the messages. There was always the fear that he might
+try to reach her while some one of her idle friends was engaged in making
+a protracted visit with her over the wire. About one o'clock Simmy Dodge
+called up to ask if he could run in and have luncheon with her.
+
+"I've got a message for you," he said.
+
+Her heart began to beat so violently that she was afraid he would hear it
+through the receiver at his ear. She could not trust herself to speak for
+a moment. Evidently he thought she was preparing to put him off with some
+polite excuse. Simmy was, as ever, considerate. He made haste to spare her
+the necessity for fibbing. "I can drop in late this afternoon—"
+
+"No," she cried out, "come now, Simmy. I shall expect you. Where are you?"
+
+He coughed in some embarrassment. "I'm—well, you see, I was going past so
+I thought I'd stop in and—What? Yes, I'm downstairs."
+
+She joined him in the palm room a few minutes later, and they went in to
+luncheon. Her colour was high. Simmy thought he had never seen her when
+she looked more beautiful. But he thought that with each succeeding
+glimpse of her.
+
+"'Pon my word, Anne," he said, staring at her across the table, "you
+fairly dazzle me. Forgive me for saying so. I couldn't help it. Perfect
+ass sometimes, you see."
+
+"I forgive you. I like it. What message did Braden send to me?"
+
+He had not expected her to be so frank, so direct. "I don't know. I wish I
+did. The beggar wrote it and sealed it up in this beastly little
+envelope." He handed her the square white envelope with the ship's emblem
+in the corner.
+
+Before looking at the written address, she put her next question to him. A
+good deal depended on his answer. "Do you know when he wrote this note,
+Simmy?"
+
+"Just before they pushed me down the gang-plank," he said. A light broke
+in upon him. "Did you send him a message?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I don't know whether it is the right thing to say, but I can tell
+you this: he wrote this note before reading your letter or telegram or
+whatever it was. He had a score of things like that and he didn't open one
+of 'em until she'd cast off."
+
+She smiled. "Thank you, Simmy. You have said the right thing,—as you
+always do." One glance at the superscription was enough. It was in his
+handwriting. For the first time she saw it in his hand: "Anne Tresslyn
+Thorpe." A queer little shiver ran through her, never to be explained.
+
+Simmy watched her curiously as she slipped the missive, unopened, into her
+gold mesh bag. "Don't mind me," he said. "Read it."
+
+"Not now, Simmy," she said simply. And all through luncheon she thrilled
+with the consciousness that she had something of Braden there with her,
+near her, waiting for her. His own hand had touched this bit of paper; it
+was a part of him. It was so long since she had seen that well-known,
+beloved handwriting,—strong like the man, and sure; she found herself
+counting the ages that had passed since his last love missive had come to
+her.
+
+Simmy was rattling on, rather dolefully, about Braden's plans. He was
+likely to be over there for a long time,—just as long as he was needed or
+able to endure the strain of hard, incessant work in the field hospitals.
+
+"I wanted to go," the little man was saying, and that brought her back to
+earth. "The worst way, Anne. But what could I do? Drive an automobile,
+yes, but what's that? Brady wouldn't hear to it. He said it was nonsense,
+me talking of going over there and getting in people's way. Of course, I'd
+probably faint the first time I saw a mutilated dead body, and that
+_would_ irritate the army. They'd have to stop everything while they gave
+me smelling salts. I suppose I'd get used to seeing 'em dead all over the
+place, just as everybody does,—even the worst of cowards. I'm not a
+coward, Anne. I drive my racing-car at ninety miles, I play polo, I go up
+in Scotty's aeroplane whenever I get a chance, I can refuse to take a
+drink when I think I've had enough, and if that doesn't prove that I've
+got courage I'd like to know what it does prove. But I'm not a fighting
+man. Nobody would ever be afraid of me. There isn't a German on earth who
+would run if he saw me charging toward him. He'd just wait to see what the
+dickens I was up to. Something would tell him that I wouldn't have the
+heart to shoot him, no matter how necessary it might be for me to do so.
+Still I wanted to go. That's what amazes me. I can't understand it."
+
+"I can understand it, you poor old simpleton," cried Anne. "You wanted to
+go because you are _not_ afraid."
+
+"I wish I could think so," said he, really perplexed. "Brady is different.
+He'd be a soldier as is a soldier. He's going over to save men's lives,
+however, and that's something I wouldn't be capable of doing. If I went
+they'd expect me to kill 'em, and that's what I'd hate. Good Lord, Anne, I
+couldn't shoot down a poor German boy that hadn't done a thing to me—or to
+my country, for that matter. If they'd only let me go as a spy, or even a
+messenger boy, I'd jump at the chance. But they'd want me to kill
+people,—and I couldn't do it, that's all."
+
+"Is Braden well? Does he look fit, Simmy? You know there will be great
+hardships, vile weather, exposure—"
+
+"He's thin and—well, I'll be honest with you, he doesn't look as fit as
+might be."
+
+She paled. "Has he been ill?"
+
+"Not in body, but—he's off his feed, Anne. Maybe you know the reason why."
+He looked at her narrowly.
+
+"I have not seen him in months," she said evasively.
+
+"I guess that's the answer," he said, pulling at his little moustache.
+"I'm sorry, Anne. It's too bad—for both of you. Lordy, I never dreamed I
+could be so unselfish. I'm mad in love with you myself and—oh, well!
+That's an old tale, so we'll cut it short. I don't know what I'm going to
+do without Brady. I've got the blues so bad that—why, I cried like a nasty
+little baby down there at the—everybody lookin' at me pityingly and saying
+to themselves 'what a terrible thing grief is when it hits a man like
+that,' and thinkin' of course that I'd lost a whole family in Belgium or
+somewhere—oh, Lordy, what a blithering—"
+
+"Hush!" whispered Anne, her own eyes glistening. "You are an angel, Simmy.
+You—"
+
+"Let's talk sense," he broke in abruptly. "Braden left his business in my
+hands, and his pleasures in the hands of Dr. Cole. He says it's a pleasure
+to heal people, so that's why I put it in that way. I've got his will down
+in our safety vault, and his instructions about that silly foundation—"
+
+"You—you think he may not come back?" she said, gripping her hands under
+the edge of the table.
+
+"You never can tell. Taking precautions, that's all, as any wise man would
+do. Oh, I'm sorry, Anne! I should have known better. Lordy, you're as
+white as—Sure, he'll come back! He isn't going to be in the least danger.
+Not the least. Nobody bothers the doctors, you know. They can go anywhere.
+They wear plug hats and all that sort of thing, and all armies respect a
+plug hat. A plug hat is a _silk_ hat, you know,—the safest hat in the
+world when you're on the firing line. Everybody tries to hit the hat and
+not the occupant. It's a standing army joke. I was reading in the paper
+the other day about a fellow going clear from one end of the line to the
+other and having six hundred and some odd plug hats shot off his head
+without so much as getting a hair singed. Wait! I can tell what you're
+going to ask, and I can't, on such short notice, answer the question. I
+can only say that I don't know where he got the hats. Ah, good! You're
+laughing again, and, by Jove, it becomes you to blush once in a while,
+too. Tell me, old lady,"—he leaned forward and spoke very seriously,—"does
+it mean a great deal to you?"
+
+She nodded her head slowly. "Yes, Simmy, it means everything."
+
+He drew a long breath. "That's just what I thought. One ordinary dose of
+commonsense split up between the two of you wouldn't be a bad thing for
+the case."
+
+"You dear old thing!" cried Anne impulsively.
+
+"How are Lutie and my god-son?" he inquired, with a fine air of
+solicitude.
+
+Half an hour later, Anne read the brief note that Braden had sent to her.
+She read it over and over again, and without the exultation she had
+anticipated. Her heart was too full for exultation.
+
+"Dear Anne," it began, "I am going to the war. I am going because I am a
+coward. The world will call me brave and self-sacrificing, but it will not
+be true. I am a coward. The peril I am running away from is far greater
+than that which awaits me over there. I thought you would like to know.
+The suffering of others may cause me to forget my own at times." He signed
+it "Braden"; and below the signature there was a postscript that puzzled
+her for a long time. "If you are not also a coward you will return to my
+grandfather's house, where you belong."
+
+And when she had solved the meaning of that singular postscript she sent
+for Wade.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+Anne Thorpe had set her heart on an eventuality. She could see nothing
+else, think of nothing else. She prayed each night to God,—and
+devoutly,—not alone for the safe return of her lover, but that God would
+send him home soon! She was conscious of no fear that he might never
+return at all.
+
+To the surprise of every one, with the approach of spring, she announced
+her determination to re-open the old Thorpe residence and take up her
+abode therein. George was the only one who opposed her. He was seriously
+upset by the news.
+
+"Good heaven, Anne, you don't _have_ to live in the house, so why do it?
+It's like a tomb. I get the shivers every time I think about it. You can
+afford to live anywhere you like. It isn't as if you were obliged to think
+of expenses—"
+
+"It seems rather silly _not_ to live in it," she countered. "I will admit
+that at first I couldn't endure the thought of it, but that was when all
+of the horrors were fresh in my mind. Besides, I resented his leaving it
+to me. It was not in the bargain, you know. There was something high-
+handed, too, in the way I was _ordered_ to live in the house. I had the
+uncanny feeling that he was trying to keep me where he could watch—but, of
+course, that was nonsense. There is no reason why I shouldn't live in the
+house, Georgie. It is—"
+
+"There is a blamed good reason why you should never have lived in it," he
+blurted out. "There's no use digging it up, however, so we'll let it stay
+buried." He argued bitterly, even doggedly, but finally gave it up.
+"Well," he said in the end, "if you will, you will. All the King's horses
+and all the King's men can't stop you when you've once made up your mind."
+
+A few days later she called for Lutie in the automobile and they went
+together to the grim old house near Washington Square. Her mind was made
+up, as George had put it. She was going to open the house and have it put
+in order for occupancy as soon as possible.
+
+She had solved the meaning of Braden's postscript. She would have to prove
+to him, first of all, that she was not afraid of the shadow that lay
+inside the walls of that grim old house. "If you are not also a coward you
+will return to my grandfather's house, where you belong." It was, she
+honestly believed, his way of telling her that if she faced the shadow in
+her own house, and put it safely behind her, her fortitude would not go
+unrewarded!
+
+It did not occur to her that she was beginning badly when she delayed
+going down to the house for two whole days because Lutie was unable to
+accompany her.
+
+The windows and doors were boarded up. There was no sign of life about the
+place when they got down from the limousine and mounted the steps at the
+heels of the footman who had run on ahead to ring the bell. They waited
+for the opening of the inner door and the shooting of the bolts in the
+storm-doors, but no sound came to their ears. Again the bell jangled,—how
+well she remembered the old-fashioned bell at the end of the hall!—and
+still no response from within.
+
+The two women looked at each other oddly. "Try the basement door," said
+Anne to the man. They stood at the top of the steps while the footman
+tried the iron gate that barred the way to the tradesmen's door. It was
+pad-locked.
+
+"I asked Simmy to meet us here at eleven," said Anne nervously. "I expect
+it will cost a good deal to do the house over as I want—Doesn't any one
+answer, Peters?"
+
+"No, ma'am. Maybe he's out."
+
+Lutie's face blanched suddenly. "My goodness, Anne, what if—what if he's
+dead in—"
+
+"Oh, for heaven's sake, Lutie," cried Anne impatiently, "don't go to
+imagining—Still it's very odd. Pound on the door, Peters,—hard."
+
+She shivered a little and turned away so that Lutie could not see the
+expression in her eyes. "I have had no word from him in nearly two weeks.
+He calls up once every fortnight to inquire—You are not pounding hard
+enough, Peters."
+
+"Let's go away," said Lutie, starting down the steps.
+
+"No," said Anne resolutely, "we must get in somehow. He may be ill. He is
+an old man. He may be lying in there praying for help, dying for lack of—"
+Then she called out to the chauffeur. "See if you can find a policeman. We
+may have to break the door down. You see, Lutie, if he's in there I must
+get to him. We may not be too late."
+
+Lutie rejoined her at the top of the steps. "You're right, Anne. I don't
+know what possessed me. But, goodness, I _hope_ it's nothing—" She
+shuddered. "He may have been dead for days."
+
+"What a horrible thing it would be if—But it doesn't matter, Lutie; I am
+going in. If you are nervous or afraid of seeing something unpleasant,
+don't come with me. Wade must be nearly seventy. He may have fallen
+or—Look! Why,—can _that_ be him coming up the—" She was staring down the
+street toward Sixth Avenue. A great breath of relief escaped her lips as
+she clutched her companion's arm and pointed.
+
+Wade was approaching. He was still half way down the long block, and only
+an eye that knew him well could have identified him. Even at closer range
+one might have mistaken him for some one else.
+
+He was walking rather briskly,—in fact, he was strutting. It was not his
+gait, however, that called for remark. While he was rigidly upright and
+steady as to progress, his sartorial condition was positively staggering.
+He wore a high, shiny silk hat. It was set at just the wee bit of an angle
+and quite well back on his head. Descending his frame, the eye took in a
+costly fur-lined overcoat with a sable collar, properly creased trousers
+with a perceptible stripe, grey spats and unusually glistening shoes that
+could not by any chance have been of anything but patent leather. Light
+tan gloves, a limber walking stick, a white carnation and a bright red
+necktie—there you have all that was visible of him. Even at a great
+distance you would have observed that he was freshly shaved.
+
+Suddenly his eye fell upon the automobile and then took in the smart
+looking visitors above. His pace slackened abruptly. After a moment of
+what appeared to be indecision, he came on, rather hurriedly. There had
+been a second or two of suspense in which Anne had the notion that the
+extraordinary creature was on the point of darting into a basement door,
+as if, unlike the peacock, he was ashamed of his plumage.
+
+He came up to them, removing his high hat with an awkwardness that
+betrayed him. His employer was staring at him with undisguised amazement.
+"I just stepped out for a moment, Mrs. Thorpe, to post a letter," said
+Wade, trying his best not to sink back into servility, and quite miserably
+failing. He was fumbling for his keys. The tops of the houses across the
+street appeared to interest him greatly. His gaze was fixed rather
+intently upon them. "Very sorry, Mrs. Thorpe,—dreadfully sorry. Ahem! Good
+morning. I hope you have not been waiting long. I—ah, here we are!" He
+found the key in the pocket of his fancy waistcoat, and bolted down the
+steps to unlock the gate. "Excuse me, please. I will run in this way and
+open the door from the—"
+
+"Wade," cried out Mrs. Thorpe, "is it really you?"
+
+He looked astonished—and a trifle hurt. "Who else could I be, Mrs.
+Thorpe?" Then he darted through the gate and a moment later the servants'
+door opened and closed behind him.
+
+"I must be dreaming," said Anne. "What in the world has come over the
+man?"
+
+Lutie closed one eye slowly. "There is only one thing under heaven that
+could make a man rig himself out like that,—and that thing is a woman."
+
+"A woman? Don't be foolish, Lutie. Wade couldn't even _think_ of a woman.
+He's nearly seventy."
+
+"They think of 'em until they drop, my dear," said Lutie sagely. "That's
+one thing we've got to give them credit for. They keep on thinking about
+us even while they're trying to keep the other foot out of the grave. You
+are going to lose the amiable Wade, Anne dear. He's not wearing spats for
+nothing."
+
+Some time passed before the key turned in the inner door, and there was
+still a long wait before the bolts in the storm doors shot back and Wade's
+face appeared. He had not had the time to remove the necktie and spats,
+but the rest of his finery had been replaced by the humble togs of
+service—long service, you would say at a glance.
+
+"Sorry to keep you waiting, ma'am, but—" He held the doors open and the
+two ladies entered the stuffy, unlighted hall.
+
+"Turn on the lights, please," said Anne quickly. Wade pushed a button and
+the lights were on. She surveyed him curiously. "Why did you take them
+off, Wade? You looked rather well in them."
+
+He cleared his throat gently, and the shy, set smile reappeared as if by
+magic. "It isn't necessary for me to say that I was not expecting you this
+morning."
+
+"Quite obviously you were not," said Anne drily. She continued to regard
+him somewhat fixedly. Something in his expression puzzled her. "Mr. Dodge
+will be here presently. I am making arrangements to open the house."
+
+He started. "Er—not to—er—live in it yourself, of course. I was sure Mr.
+Dodge would find a way to get around the will so that you could let the
+house—"
+
+"I expect to live here myself, Wade," said she. After a moment, she went
+on: "Will you care to stay on?"
+
+He was suddenly confused. "I—I can't give you an answer just at this
+moment, Mrs. Thorpe. It may be a few days before I—" He paused.
+
+"Take all the time you like, Wade," she interrupted.
+
+"I fancy I'd better give notice now, ma'am," he said after a moment. "To-
+day will do as well as any day for that." He seemed to straighten out his
+figure as he spoke, resuming a little of the unsuspected dignity that had
+accompanied the silk hat and the fur-lined coat.
+
+"I'm sorry," said Anne,—who was not in the slightest sense sorry. Wade
+sometimes gave her the creeps.
+
+"I should like to explain about the—ah—the garments you saw me
+wearing—ah—I mean to say, I should have brought myself to the point of
+telling you a little later on, in any event, but now that you have caught
+me wearing of them, I dare say this is as good a time as any to get it
+over with. First of all, Mrs. Thorpe, I must preface my—er—confession by
+announcing that I am quite sure that you have always considered me to be
+an honest man and above deception and falsehood. Ahem! That _is_ right,
+isn't it?"
+
+"What are you trying to get at, Wade?" she cried in surprise. "You cannot
+imagine that I suspect you of—anything wrong?"
+
+"It may be wrong, and it may not be. I have never felt quite right about
+it. There have been times when I felt real squeamish—and a bit
+underhanded, you might say. On the other hand, I submit that it was not
+altogether reprehensible on my part to air them occasionally—and to see
+that the moths didn't—"
+
+"Air them? For goodness' sake, Wade, speak plainly. Why shouldn't you air
+your own clothes? They are very nice looking and they must have cost you a
+pretty penny. Dear me, I have no right to say what you shall wear on the
+street or—"
+
+Wade's eyes grew a little wider. "Is it possible, madam, that you failed
+to recognise the—er—garments?"
+
+She laid her hand upon Lutie's arm, and gripped it convulsively. Her eyes
+were fixed in a fast-growing look of aversion.
+
+"You do not mean that—that they were Mr. Thorpe's?" she said, in a low
+voice.
+
+"I supposed, of course, you would have remembered them," said Wade, a
+trifle sharply. "The overcoat was one that he wore every day when you went
+out for your drive with him, just before he took to his bed. I—"
+
+"Good heaven!" cried Anne, revolted. "You have been wearing his clothes?"
+
+"They were not really what you would call cast-off garments, ma'am," he
+explained in some haste, evidently to save his dignity. "They were rather
+new, you may remember,—that is to say, the coat and vest and trousers. As
+I recall it, the overcoat was several seasons old, and the hat was the
+last one he ordered before taking to the comfortable lounge hat—he always
+had his hats made from his own block, you see,—and as I was about to
+explain, ma'am, it seemed rather a sin to let them hang in the closet,
+food for moths and to collect dust in spite of the many times I brushed
+them. Of course, I should never have presumed to wear them while he was
+still alive, not even after he had abandoned them for good—No, that is a
+thing I have never been guilty of doing. I could not have done it. That is
+just the difference between a man-servant and a woman-servant. Your maid
+frequently went out in your gowns without your knowledge. I am told it is
+quite a common practice. At least I may claim for myself the credit of
+waiting until my employer was dead before venturing to cover my back with
+his—Yes, honest confession is good for the soul, ma'am. These shoes are my
+own, and the necktie. He could not abide red neckties. Of course, I need
+not say that the carnation I wore was quite fresh. The remainder of my
+apparel was once worn by my beloved master. I am not ashamed to confess
+it."
+
+"How _could_ you wear the clothes of a—a dead person?" cried Anne,
+cringing as if touched by some cold and slimy thing.
+
+"It seemed such a waste, madam. Of late I have taken to toning myself up a
+bit, and there seemed no sensible reason why I shouldn't make use of Mr.
+Thorpe's clothes,—allow me to explain that I wore only those he had used
+the least,—provided they were of a satisfactory fit. We were of pretty
+much the same size,—you will remember that, I'm sure,—and, they fitted me
+quite nicely. Of course, I should not have taken them away with me when I
+left your employ, madam. That would have been unspeakable. I should have
+restored them to the clothes presses, and you would have found them there
+when I turned over the keys and—"
+
+"Good heavens, man," she cried, "take them away with you when you go—all
+of them. Everything, do you hear? I give them all to you. Of what use
+could they be to me? They are yours. Take everything,—hats, boots,
+linen,—"
+
+"Thank you, ma'am. That is very handsome of you. I wasn't quite sure that
+perhaps Mr. Braden wouldn't find some use for the overcoat. It is a very
+elegant coat. It cost—"
+
+"Wade, you are either very stupid or very insolent," she interrupted
+coldly. "We need not discuss the matter any farther. How soon do you
+expect to leave?"
+
+"I should say that a week would be sufficient notice, under the
+circumstances," said he, and chuckled, much to their amazement. "I may as
+well make a clean breast of it, ma'am. I am going to be married on the
+seventeenth of next month. That's just six weeks off and—"
+
+"Married! You?"
+
+"Ah, madam, I trust you will not forget that I have lived a very lonely
+and you might say profitless life," he said, rubbing his hands together,
+and allowing his smile to broaden into a pleased grin. "As you may know in
+the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love,—and so
+on. A man is as old as he feels. I can't say that I ever felt younger in
+my life than I have felt during the past month."
+
+"I wish you joy and happiness, Wade," said Anne dumbly. She was staring at
+his smirking, seamed old face as if fascinated. "I hope she is a good
+woman and that you will find—"
+
+"She is little more than a girl," said he, straightening his figure still
+a little more, remembering that he had just spoken of his own youthful
+feelings. There may have been something of the pride of conquest as well.
+"Just twenty-one last December."
+
+Lutie laughed out loud. He bent his head quickly and they saw that his
+lips were compressed.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Wade," cried George's wife. "It—it really isn't
+anything to laugh at, and I'm sorry."
+
+"That's all right, Mrs. George," he muttered.
+
+"Only twenty-one," murmured Anne, her gaze running over the shabby old
+figure in front of her. "My God, Wade, is she—what can she be thinking
+of?"
+
+He looked straight into her eyes, and spoke. "Is it so horrible for a
+young girl to marry an old man, ma'am?" he asked sorrowfully, and so
+respectfully that she was deceived into believing that he intended no
+affront to her.
+
+"They usually know what they are doing when they marry very old men," she
+replied deliberately. "You must not overlook that fact, Wade. But perhaps
+it isn't necessary for me to remind you that young girls do not marry old
+men for love. There may be pity, or sentiment, or duty—but never love.
+More often than not it is avarice, Wade."
+
+"Quite true," said he. "I am glad to have you speak so frankly to me,
+ma'am. It proves that you are interested in my welfare."
+
+"Who is she, Wade?" she inquired.
+
+Lutie had passed into the library, leaving them together in the hall. She
+had experienced a sudden sensation of nausea. It was impossible for her to
+remain in the presence of this shattered old hulk and still be able to
+keep the disgust from showing itself in her eyes. She was the wife of a
+real man, and the wife of a man whom she could love and caress and yield
+herself to with a thrill of ecstasy in her blood.
+
+"The young lady I was speaking to you about some weeks ago, madam,—the
+daughter of my friend who conducts the _delicatessen_ just below us in
+Sixth Avenue. You remember I spoke to you of the Southern lady reduced to
+a commercial career by—"
+
+"I remember. I remember thinking at the time that it might be the mother
+who would prevail—I am sorry, Wade. I shouldn't have said that—"
+
+"It's quite all right," said he amiably. "It is barely possible—ay, even
+probable,—that it was the mother who prevailed. They sometimes do, you
+know. But Marian appears to have a mind of her own. She loves me, Mrs.
+Thorpe. I am quite sure of that. It would be pretty hard to deceive me."
+
+Through all of this Anne was far from oblivious to the sinister
+comparisons the man was drawing. She had always been a little afraid of
+him. Now an uneasy horror was laying its hold upon her. He had used her as
+an example in persuading a silly, unsophisticated girl to give herself to
+him. He had gone about his courtship in the finery his dead master had
+left behind him.
+
+"I thank you for your good wishes, Mrs. Thorpe," he went on, smoothly. "If
+it is not too much to ask, I should like to have you say a few good words
+for me to Marian some day soon. She would be very greatly influenced by
+the opinion of so great a lady as—"
+
+"But I thought you said it was settled," she broke in sharply.
+
+"It is settled," he said. "But if you would only do me the favour
+of—er—advising her to name an earlier day than the seventeenth, I—"
+
+"I cannot advise her, Wade," said she firmly. "It is out of the question."
+
+"I am sorry," he said, lowering his gaze. "Mr. Thorpe was my best friend
+as well as my master. I thought, for his sake, you might consent to—"
+
+"You must do your own pleading, Wade," she interrupted, a red spot
+appearing in each cheek. Then rashly: "You may continue to court her in
+Mr. Thorpe's clothes but you need not expect his wife to lend her
+assistance also."
+
+His eyes glittered. "I am sorry if I have offended you, ma'am. And I thank
+you for being honest and straightforward with me. It is always best."
+
+"I did not mean to hurt your feelings, Wade," she began, half-sorry for
+her remark.
+
+"Not in the least, ma'am. Nothing can hurt my feelings. You see, I lived
+with Mr. Thorpe a great deal longer than you did. I got quite beyond being
+hurt."
+
+She drew a step nearer. "Wade," she said quietly, "I am going to advise
+you, not this wretched girl who is planning to marry you. How old are
+you?"
+
+"Two score and a half and five," he answered promptly. Evidently he had
+uttered the glib lie before, and as on another occasion he waited for his
+listener to reduce the words to figures.
+
+"Fifty-five," said Anne, after some time. She was not good at mathematics.
+"I thought you were older than that. It doesn't matter, however. You are
+fairly well-off, I believe. Upwards of fifty thousand dollars, no doubt.
+Now, I shall be quite frank with you. This girl is taking you for your
+money. Just a moment, if you please. I do not know her, and I may be doing
+her an injustice. You have compared her to me in reaching your
+conclusions. You do not deceive yourself any more than Mr. Thorpe deceived
+himself. He knew I did not love him, and you must know that the same
+condition exists in this affair of yours. You have thanked me for being
+honest. Well, I was honest with Mr. Thorpe. I would have been as true as
+steel to him, even if he had lived to be an hundred. The question you must
+ask of yourself is this, Wade: Will this girl be as true as steel to you?
+Is there no other man to be afraid of?"
+
+He listened intently. A certain greyness crept into his hollow cheeks.
+
+"Was there no other man when you married Mr. Thorpe?" he asked levelly.
+
+"Yes, there was," she surprised him by replying. "An honest man, however.
+I think you know—"
+
+She scarcely heard Wade as he went on, now in a most conciliatory way. "It
+may interest you to know that I have arranged to buy out the delicatessen.
+We expect to enlarge and tidy the place up just as soon as we can get
+around to it. I believe I shall be very happy, once I get into active
+business. Mrs. Gadscomb,—that's the present mother,—I mean to say, the
+present owner, Marian's mother, has agreed to conduct the place as
+heretofore, at a very excellent salary, and I have no fear as to—But
+excuse me for going on like this, ma'am. No doubt you would like to talk
+about your own affairs instead of listening to mine. You said something
+about opening the house and coming back here to live. Of course, I shall
+consider it my duty to remain here just as long as I can be of service to
+you. There will be a little plumbing needed on the third floor, and I
+fancy a general cleaning—"
+
+"Thank heaven, there is Mr. Dodge at last," cried Anne, as the bell
+jangled almost over her head, startling her into a little cry of alarm.
+
+As Wade shuffled toward the front door, once more the simple slave of
+circumstance, she fled quickly into the library.
+
+"Oh, Lutie," she cried, sinking into a chair beside the long, familiar
+table, and beating with her clenched hands upon the surface of it, "I know
+at last just how I look to other people. My God in heaven, what a _thing
+I_ must seem to you."
+
+Lutie came swiftly out of the shadows and laid her hands upon the
+shoulders of her sister-in-law.
+
+"You ought to thank the Lord, dear old girl, for the revelation," she said
+gently. "I guess it's just what you've needed." Then she leaned over and
+pressed her warm, soft cheek to Anne's cold one. "If I owned this house,"
+she said almost in a whisper, "I'd renovate it from top to bottom. I'd get
+rid of more than old Wade and the old clothes. The best and cheapest way
+to renovate it would be to set fire to a barrel of kerosene in the
+basement."
+
+"Oh, how horrible for that girl to marry a dreadful, shrivelled old man
+like Wade. The skin on his hands is all wrinkled and loose—I couldn't help
+noticing it as I—"
+
+"Hello!" called out Simmy from the doorway, peering into the darkened
+room. "Where the deuce are you? Ah, that's better, Wade." The caretaker
+had switched on the lights in the big chandelier. "Sorry to be late, Anne.
+Morning, Lutie. How's my god-son? Couldn't get here a minute sooner. You
+see, Anne, I've got other clients besides you. Braden, for instance. I've
+been carrying out his instructions in regard to that confounded
+trusteeship. The whole matter is to be looked after by a Trust Company
+from now on. Simplifies matters enormously."
+
+Anne started up. "Isn't—isn't he coming back to America?" she cried.
+
+"Sure,—unless they pink him some day. My goodness, you don't suppose for
+an instant that he could manage the whole of that blooming foundation and
+have any time to spare for _hopeful_ humanity,—do you? Why, it will take a
+force of half a dozen men to keep the books straight and look after the
+ever-increasing capital. By the time old Brady is ready to start the ball
+rolling there will be so much money stored up for the job that Rockefeller
+will be ashamed to mention the pitiful fortune he controls. In the
+meantime he can go on saving people's lives while the trust company saves
+the Foundation."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+Thorpe returned to New York about the middle of May, in the tenth month of
+the war. The true facts concerning the abrupt severance of his connections
+with the hospital corps in France were never divulged. His confrères and
+his superiors maintained a discreet and loyal silence. It was to Simmy
+that he explained the cause of his retirement. Word had gone out among the
+troops that he was the American doctor whose practices were infinitely
+more to be feared than the bullets from an enemy's guns.... It was
+announced from headquarters that he was returning to the United States on
+account of ill-health. He had worked hard and unceasingly and had exposed
+himself to grave physical hardships. He came home with a medal for
+conspicuous and unexampled valour while actually under fire. One report
+had it that on more than one occasion he appeared not only to scorn death
+but to invite it, so reckless were his deeds.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile James Marraville died in great agony. Those nearest to him said,
+in so many words, that it was a great pity he did not die at the time of
+the operation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"But," began one of the reporters at the dock, "you are said to have
+risked your own life, Dr. Thorpe, on at least half a dozen occasions when
+you exposed yourself to the fire of the enemy by going out in front after
+men who had fallen and were as good as dead when you got to them. In every
+case, we are told the men died on the stretchers while they were being
+carried to the rear. Do you mind telling us why you brought those men back
+when you knew that they were bound to die—"
+
+"You have been misinformed," interrupted Thorpe. "One of those men did not
+die. I did all that was possible to save the lives as well as the bodies
+of those wretched fellows. Not one of them appeared to have a chance. The
+one who survived was in the most hopeless condition of them all. He is
+alive to-day, but without legs or arms. He is only twenty-two. He may live
+to be seventy. The others died. Will you say that they are not better off
+than he? And yet we tried to save them all. That is what we were there
+for. I saw a man run a bayonet through the heart of his own brother one
+day. We were working over him at the time and we knew that our efforts
+would be useless. The brother knew it also. He merely did the thing we
+refused to do. You want to know why I deliberately picked out of all the
+wounded the men who seemed to have the least chance for recovery, and
+brought them back to a place of safety. Well, I will tell you quite
+frankly, why I chose those men from among all the others. They were being
+left behind. They were as good as dead, as you say. I wanted to treat the
+most hopeless cases that could be found. I wanted to satisfy myself. I
+went about it quite cold-bloodedly,—not bravely, as the papers would have
+it,—and I confess that I passed by men lying out there who might have had
+a chance, looking for those who apparently had none. Seven of them died,
+as you say,—seven of the 'hopelessly afflicted.' One of them lived. You
+will now say that having proved to my own satisfaction that no man can be
+'hopelessly afflicted,' I should be ready to admit the fallacy of my
+preachings. But you are wrong. I am more firmly intrenched in my position
+than ever before. That man's life should not have been saved. We did him a
+cruel wrong in saving it for him. He wanted to die, he still wants to die.
+He will curse God to the end of his days because he was allowed to live.
+Some day his relatives will exhibit him in public, as one of the greatest
+of freaks, and people will pay to enter the side shows to see him. They
+will carry him about in shawl straps. He will never be able to protest,
+for he has lost the power of speech. He can only _see_ and _hear_. Will
+you be able to look into the agonised eyes of that man as he lies propped
+up in a chair, a mere trunk, and believe that he is glad to be alive? Will
+you then rejoice over the fact that we saved him from a much nobler grave
+than the one he occupies in the side-show, where all the world may stare
+at him at so much per head? An inglorious reward, gentlemen, for a brave
+soldier of the Republic."
+
+"We may quote you as saying, Dr. Thorpe, that you have not abandoned your
+theories?"
+
+"Certainly. I shall go on preaching, as you are pleased to call my
+advocacy. A great many years from to-day—centuries, no doubt,—the world
+will think as I do now. Thank you, gentlemen, for your courtesy in—"
+
+"Have you heard that James Marraville died last week, Dr. Thorpe?" broke
+in one of the reporters.
+
+"No," said he, quite unmoved. "I am not surprised, however. I gave him
+five or six months."
+
+"Didn't you expect him to get entirely well?" demanded the man, surprised.
+
+Braden shook his head, smiling. "No one expected that, gentlemen,—not even
+Mr. Marraville."
+
+"But every one thought that the operation was a success, and—"
+
+"And so it was, gentlemen," said Thorpe unsmilingly; "a very terrible
+success."
+
+"Gee, if we print that as coming from you, Dr. Thorpe, it will create the
+biggest sensation in years."
+
+"Then I haven't the least doubt that you will print it," said Thorpe.
+
+There was a short silence. Then the spokesman said: "I think I speak for
+every man here when I say that we will not print it, Dr. Thorpe. We
+understand, but the people wouldn't." He deliberately altered the
+character of the interview and inquired if German submarines had been
+sighted after the steamship left Liverpool. The whole world was still
+shuddering over the disaster to the _Lusitania_, torpedoed the week
+before, with the loss of over a thousand souls.
+
+Thorpe drove uptown with Simmy Dodge, who would not hear of his going to
+an hotel, but conducted him to his own apartment where he was to remain as
+long as he pleased.
+
+"Get yourself pulled together, old chap, before you take up any work,"
+advised Simmy. "You look pretty seedy. We're going to have a hot summer,
+they say. Don't try to do too much until you pick up a bit. Too bad
+they're fighting all over the continent of Europe. If they weren't, hang
+me if I wouldn't pack you onto a boat and take you over there for a good
+long rest, in spite of what happened to the _Lusitania_. We'll go up into
+the mountains in June, Brady,—or what do you say to skipping out to the
+San Francisco fair for a few—"
+
+"You're looking thin and sort of pegged out, old boy," began Simmy
+soothingly.
+
+"I'm all right, Simmy. Sound as anything. I don't mind telling you that it
+wasn't my health that drove me out of the service,—and that's what hurts.
+They—they didn't want me. They thought it was best for me to get out."
+
+"Good Lord!" gasped Simmy, struggling between amazement and indignation.
+"What kind of blithering fools have they got over—"
+
+"They are not blithering fools," said Thorpe soberly. "The staff would not
+have turned me out, I'm sure of that. I was doing good work, Simmy," he
+went on rapidly, eagerly, "even though I do say it myself. Everybody was
+satisfied, I'm sure. Night and day,—all the time,—mind you, and I was
+standing up under it better than any of them. But, you see, it wasn't the
+staff that did it. It was the poor devil of a soldier out there in the
+trenches. They found out who I was. Newspapers, of course. Well, that
+tells the story. They were afraid of me. But I am not complaining. I do
+not blame them. God knows it was hard enough for them to face death out
+there at the front without having to think of—well, getting it anyhow if
+they fell into my hands. I—But there's no use speaking of it, Simmy. I
+wanted you to know why I got out, and I want Anne to know. As for the
+rest, let them think I was sick or—cowardly if they like."
+
+Simmy was silent for a long time. He said afterwards that it was all he
+could do to keep from crying as he looked at the pale, gaunt face of his
+friend and listened to the verdict of the French soldiers.
+
+"I don't see the necessity for telling Anne," he said, at last, pulling
+rather roughly at his little moustache. They were seated at one of the
+broad windows in Simmy's living-room, drinking in the cool air that came
+up from the west in advance of an impending thunderstorm. The day had been
+hot and stifling. "No sense in letting her know, old man. Secret between
+you and me, if you don't—"
+
+"I'd rather she knew," said Thorpe briefly. "In fact, she will have to
+know."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Thorpe was staring out over the Park, and did not answer. Simmy found
+another cigarette and lighted it, scorching his fingers while furtively
+watching his companion's face.
+
+"How is Anne, Simmy?" demanded Thorpe abruptly. There was a fierce, eager
+light in his eyes, but his manner was strangely repressed. "Where is she?"
+
+Simmy took a deep breath. "She's well and she's at home."
+
+"You mean,—down there in the old—"
+
+"The old Thorpe house. I don't know what's got into the girl, Brady. First
+she swears she won't live in the house, and then she turns around,—just
+like that,—and moves in. Workmen all over the place, working overtime and
+all that sort of thing,—with Anne standing around punchin' 'em with a
+sharp stick if they don't keep right on the job. Top to bottom,—renovated,
+redecorated, brightened up,—wouldn't recognise the place as—"
+
+"Is she living there—alone?"
+
+"Yes. New lot of servants and—By the way, old Wade has—what do you think
+he has done?"
+
+"How long has she been living down there?" demanded the other,
+impatiently. His eyes were gleaming.
+
+"Well, old Wade has gone and got married," went on Simmy, deliberately
+ignoring the eager question. "Married a girl of twenty or something like
+that. Chucked his job, bloomed out as a dandy,—spats and chamois gloves
+and silk hats,—cleared out three weeks ago for a honeymoon,—rather pretty
+girl, by the way,—"
+
+Braden's attention had been caught at last and held. "Wade married? Good
+Lord! Oh, I say, Simmy, you _can't_ expect me to believe—"
+
+"You'll see. He has shaken the dust of Thorpe house from his person and is
+gallivanting around in lavender perfumes and purple linen."
+
+"My God! That old hulk and—twenty years, did you say? Why, the damned old
+scoundrel! After all he has seen and—" His jaws closed suddenly with a
+snap, and his eyes narrowed into ugly slits.
+
+"Be careful, Brady, old top," said Simmy, shaking his head. "It won't do
+to call Wade names, you know. Just stop and think for a second or two."
+
+Thorpe relaxed with a gesture of despair. "You are right, Simmy. Why
+should I blame Wade?"
+
+He got up and began pacing the floor, his hands clenched behind his back.
+Simmy smoked in silence, apparently absorbed in watching the angry clouds
+that blackened the western sky.
+
+Presently Thorpe resumed his seat in the window. His eyes did not meet
+Simmy's as the latter turned toward him. He look straight out over the
+tops of the great apartment houses on the far side of the Park.
+
+"How long has she been living down there alone?" he asked again.
+
+"Five or six weeks."
+
+"When did you last see her?"
+
+"Yesterday. She's been dreadfully nervous ever since the blowing up of the
+_Lusitania_. I asked her to go to the pier with me. She refused. See here,
+Brady," said Simmy, rising suddenly and laying his hand on the other's
+shoulder, "what are you going to do about Anne?"
+
+"Nothing. Anne can never be anything to me, nor I to her," said Thorpe,
+white-faced and stern. His face was rigid.
+
+"Nonsense! You love her, don't you?"
+
+"Yes. That has nothing to do with it, however."
+
+"And she loves you. I suppose that hasn't anything to do with it, either.
+I suppose it is right and proper and natural that you both should go on
+loving each other to the end of time without realising the joys of—"
+
+"Don't try to argue the—"
+
+"It's right that you should let that glorious, perfect young creature
+wither and droop with time, grow old without—oh, Lordy, what a damn fool
+you are, Brady! There isn't the slightest reason in this world why you
+shouldn't get married and—"
+
+"Stop that, Simmy!"
+
+"Here you are, two absolutely sound, strong, enduring specimens of
+humanity,—male and female,—loving each other, wanting each other,—and yet
+you say you can never be anything to each other! Hasn't nature anything to
+do with it? Are you going to sit there and tell me that for some
+obstinate, mawkish reason you think you ought to deprive her of the one
+man in all this world that she wants and must have? It doesn't matter what
+she did a couple of years ago. It doesn't matter that she was,—and still
+may be designing,—the fact remains that she is the woman you love and that
+you are her man. She married old Mr. Thorpe deliberately, I grant you. She
+doesn't deny it. She loved you when she did it. And you can't, to save
+your soul, hate her for it. You ought to do so, I admit. But you don't,
+and that solves the problem. You want her now even more than you did two
+years ago. You can't defy nature, old chap. You may defy convention, and
+honour, and even common decency, but you can't beat nature out of its due.
+Now, look me in the eye! Why can't you marry Anne and—be everything to
+her, instead of nothing, as you put it? Answer me!"
+
+"It is impossible," groaned Thorpe. "You cannot understand, Simmy."
+
+"Nothing is impossible," said Simmy, the optimist. "If you are afraid of
+what people will say about it, then all I have to say is that you are
+worse than a coward: you are a stupid ass. People talked themselves black
+in the face when she married your grandfather, and what good did it do
+them? Not a particle of good. They roasted her to a fare-you-well, and
+they called her a mean, avaricious, soulless woman, and still she
+survives. Everybody expects her to marry you. When she does it, everybody
+will smile and say 'I told you so,'—and sneer a little, perhaps,—but, hang
+it all, what difference should that make? This is a big world. It is
+busier than you think. It will barely take the time to sniff twice or
+maybe three times at you and Anne and then it will hustle along on the
+scent of something new. It's always smelling out things, but that's all it
+amounts to. It overlooks divorces, liaisons, murders,—everything, in fact,
+except disappointments. It never forgives the man or woman who disappoints
+it. Now, I know something else that's on your mind. You think that because
+you operated—fatally, we'll say,—on your grandfather, that that is an
+obstacle in the way of your marriage with Anne. Tommy-rot! I've heard of a
+hundred doctors who have married the widows of their patients, and their
+friends usually congratulate 'em, which goes to prove something, doesn't
+it? You are expected by ninety per cent. of the inhabitants of greater New
+York to marry Anne Tresslyn. They may have forgotten everything else, but
+that one thing they _do_ expect. They said it would happen and it must.
+They said it when Anne married your grandfather, they said it when he died
+and they say it now, even though their minds are filled with other
+things."
+
+Thorpe eyed him steadily throughout this earnest appeal. "Do you think
+that Anne expects it, Simmy?" he inquired, a harsh note in his voice.
+
+Simmy had to think quickly. "I think she does," he replied, and always was
+to wonder whether he said the right thing. "She is in love with you. She
+wants you, and anything that Anne wants she expects to get. I don't mean
+that in a disparaging sense, either. If she doesn't marry you, she'll
+never marry any one. She'll wait for you till the end of her days. Even if
+you were to marry some one else, she'd—"
+
+"I shall not marry any one else," said Thorpe, almost fiercely.
+
+"—She'd go on waiting and wanting you just the same, and you would go on
+wanting her," concluded Simmy. "You will never consider your life complete
+until you have Anne Tresslyn as a part of it. She wants to make you happy.
+That's what most women want when they're in love with a man."
+
+"I tell you, Simmy, I cannot marry Anne. I love her,—God knows how
+terribly I want her,—in spite of everything. It _is_ nature. You can't
+kill love, no matter how hard you try. Some one else has to do the
+killing. Anne is keeping it alive in me. She has tortured my love, beaten
+it, outraged it, but all the time she has been secretly feeding it,
+caressing it, never for an instant letting it out of her grasp. You cannot
+understand, Simmy. You've never been in love with a woman like Anne. She
+may have despaired at times, but she has never given up the fight, not
+even when she must have thought that I despised her. She knew that my love
+was mortally hurt, but do you think she would let it die? No! She will
+keep it alive forever,—and she will suffer, too, in doing so. But what's
+that to Anne? She—"
+
+"Just a second, old chap," broke in Simmy. "You are forgetting that Anne
+wants you to be happy."
+
+"God, how happy I could have been with her!"
+
+"See here, will you go down there and see her?" demanded Simmy.
+
+"I can't do that,—I can't do it. Simmy—" he lowered his voice to almost a
+whisper,—"I can't trust myself. I don't know what would happen if I were
+to see her again,—be near her, alone with her. This longing for her has
+become almost unbearable. I thought of her every minute of the time I was
+out there at the front—Yes, I had to put the heaviest restraint upon
+myself at times to keep from chucking the whole thing and dashing back
+here to get her, to take her, to keep her,—maybe to kill her, I don't
+know. Now I realise that I was wrong in coming back to America at all. I
+should have gone—oh, anywhere else in the world. But here I am, and,
+strangely enough, I feel stronger, more able to resist. It was the
+distance between us that made it so terrible. I can resist her here, but,
+by heaven, I couldn't over there. I could have come all the way back from
+France to see her, but I can't go from here down to Washington Square,—so
+that shows you how I stand in the matter."
+
+"Now I know the real reason why you came back to little old New York,"
+said Simmy sagely, and Thorpe was not offended.
+
+"In the first place I cannot marry her while she still has in her
+possession the money for which she sold herself and me," said Thorpe,
+musing aloud. "You ought to at least be able to understand that, Simmy? No
+matter how much I love her, I can't make her my wife with that accursed
+money standing—But there's no use talking about _that_. There is an even
+graver reason why I ought not to marry her, an insurmountable reason. I
+cannot tell you what it is, but I fear that down in your heart you
+suspect."
+
+Simmy leaned forward in his chair. "I think I know, old man," he said
+simply. "But even that shouldn't stand in the way. I don't see why you
+should have been kind and gentle and merciful to Mr. Thorpe, and refuse to
+be the same, in a different way, to her." His face broke into a whimsical
+smile. "Anne is what you might call hopelessly afflicted. Dammit all, put
+her out of her misery!"
+
+Thorpe stared at him aghast. The utter banality of the remark left him
+speechless. For the first time in their acquaintance, he misjudged Simmy
+Dodge. He drew back from him, scowling.
+
+"That's a pretty rotten thing to say, Simmy," he said, after a moment.
+"Pretty poor sort of wit."
+
+"It wasn't meant for wit, my friend," said Simmy seriously. "I meant every
+word of it, no matter how rotten it may have sounded. If you are going to
+preach mercy and all that sort of silly rot, practise it whenever it is
+possible. There's no law against your being kind to Anne Tresslyn. You
+don't have to be governed by a commission or anything like that. She's
+just as deserving as any one, you know."
+
+"Which is another way of saying that she _deserves_ my love?" cried Thorpe
+angrily.
+
+"She's got it, so it really doesn't matter whether she deserves it or not.
+You can't take it away from her. You've tried it and—well, she's still got
+it, so there's no use arguing."
+
+"Do you think it gives me any happiness to love her as I do?" cried the
+other. "Do you think I am finding joy in the prospect of never having her
+for my own—all for my own? Do you—"
+
+"Well, my boy, do you think she is finding much happiness living down
+there in that old house all alone? Do you think she is getting much real
+joy out of her little old two millions? By the way, why is she living down
+there at all? I can tell you. She's doing it because she's got nerve
+enough to play the game out as she began it. She's doing it because she
+believes it will cause you to think better of her. This is a guess on my
+part, but I know darned well she wouldn't be doing it if there wasn't some
+good and sufficient reason."
+
+Thorpe nodded his head slowly, an ironic smile on his lips. "Yes, she _is_
+playing the game, but not as she began it. I am not so sure that I think
+better of her for doing it."
+
+"Brady, I hope you'll forgive me for saying something harsh and
+disrespectful about your grandfather, but here goes. He played you a
+shabby trick in taking Anne away from you in the first place. No matter
+how shabbily Anne behaved toward you, he was worse than she. Then he
+virtually compelled you to perform an operation that—well, I'll not say
+it. We can forgive him for that. He was suffering. And then he went out of
+his way to leave that old house down there to Anne, knowing full well that
+if she continued to live in it, it would be a sort of prison to her. She
+can't sell it, she can't rent it. She's got to live in it, or abandon it
+altogether. I call it a pretty mean sort of trick to play on her, if
+you'll forgive my—"
+
+"She doesn't have to live in it," said Thorpe doggedly.
+
+"She is going to live there until you take her out of it, bodily if you
+please, and you are going to become so all-fired sorry for her that
+you'll—"
+
+"Good Lord, Simmy," shouted Thorpe, springing to his feet with a bitter
+imprecation, "don't go on like this. I can't stand it. I know how she
+hates it. I know how frightened, how miserable she is down there. It _is_
+a prison,—no, worse than that, it is haunted by something that you cannot
+possibly—My God, it must be awful for her, all alone,—shivering,
+listening,—something crawly—something sinister and accusing—Why, she—"
+
+"Here, here, old fellow!" cried Simmy in alarm. "Don't go off your nut.
+You're talking like a crazy man,—and, hang it all, I don't like the look
+in your eye. Gosh, if it gives you the creeps—who don't have to be down
+there of nights,—what must it be for that shrinking, sensitive—Hey! Where
+are you going?"
+
+"I'm going down there to see her. I'm going to tell her that I was a cur
+to write what I did to her the day I sailed. I—" He stopped short near the
+door, and faced his friend. His hands were clenched.
+
+"I shall see her just this once,—never again if I can avoid it," he said.
+"Just to tell her that I don't want her to live in that house. She's got
+to get out. I'll not know a moment's peace until she is out of that
+house."
+
+Simmy heard the door slam and a few minutes later the opening and closing
+of the elevator cage. He sat quite still, looking out over the trees. He
+was a rather pathetic figure.
+
+"I wonder if I'd be so loyal to him if I had a chance myself," he mused.
+"Oh, Lordy, Lordy!" He closed his eyes as if in pain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+The storm burst in all its fury when Thorpe was half way down the Avenue
+in the taxi he had picked up at the Plaza. Pedestrians scurried in all
+directions, seeking shelter from the wind and rain; the blackness of night
+had fallen upon the city; the mighty roar of a thousand cannon came out of
+the clouds; terrifying flashes rent the skies. The man in the taxi neither
+saw nor heard the savage assault of the elements. He was accustomed to the
+roar of battle. He was used to thinking with something worse than thunder
+in his ears, and something worse than raindrops beating about him.
+
+He knew that Anne was afraid of the thunder and the lightning. More than
+once she had huddled close to him and trembled in the haven of his arms,
+her fingers to her ears, while storms raged about them. He was thinking of
+her now, down there in that grim old house, trembling in some darkened
+place, her eyes wide with alarm, her heart beating wildly with terror,—ah,
+he remembered so well how wildly her heart could beat!
+
+He had forgotten his words to Simmy: "I can't trust myself!" There was but
+one object in his mind and that was to retract the unnecessary challenge
+with which he had closed his letter to her in January. Why should he have
+demanded of her a sacrifice for which he could offer no consolation? He
+now admitted to himself that when he wrote the blighting postscript he was
+inspired by a mean desire to provoke anticipation on her part. "If you
+also are not a coward, you will return to my grandfather's house, where
+you belong." What right had he to revive the hope that she accounted dead?
+She still had her own life to live, and in her own way. He was not to be a
+part of it. He was sure of that, and yet he had given her something on
+which to sustain the belief that a time would come when their lives might
+find a common channel and run along together to the end. She had taken his
+words as he had hoped she would, and now he was filled with shame and
+compunction.
+
+The rain was coming down in sheets when the taxi-cab slid up to the curb
+in front of the house that had been his home for thirty years. His home!
+Not hers, but _his_! She did not belong there, and he did. He would never
+cease to regard this fine old house as his home.
+
+He was forced to wait for the deluge to cease or to slacken. For many
+minutes he sat there in the cab, his gaze fixed rigidly on the streaming,
+almost opaque window, trying to penetrate the veil of water that hung
+between him and the walls of the house not twenty feet away. At last his
+impatience got the better of him, and, the downpour having diminished
+slightly, he made a sudden swift dash from the vehicle and up the stone
+steps into the shelter of the doorway. Here he found company. Four
+workmen, evidently through for the day, were flattened against the walls
+of the vestibule.
+
+They made way for him. Without realising what he did, he hastily snatched
+his key-ring from his pocket, found the familiar key he had used for so
+many years, and inserted it in the lock. The door opened at once and he
+entered the hall. As he closed the door behind him, his eyes met the
+curious gaze of the four workmen, and for the first time he realised what
+he had done through force of habit. For a moment or two he stood
+petrified, trying to grasp the full significance of his act. He had never
+rung the door-bell of that house,—not in all the years of his life. He had
+always entered in just this way. His grandfather had given him a key when
+he was thirteen,—the same key that he now held in his fingers and at which
+he stared in a sort of stupefaction.
+
+He was suddenly aware of another presence in the hall,—a figure in white
+that stood near the foot of the staircase, motionless where it had been
+arrested by the unexpected opening of the door,—a tall, slender figure.
+
+He saw her hand go swiftly to her heart.
+
+"Why—why didn't you—let me know?" she murmured in a voice so low that he
+could hardly hear the words. "Why do you come in this way to—"
+
+"What must you think of me for—for breaking in upon you—" he began,
+jerkily. "I don't know what possessed me to—you see, I still have the key
+I used while I lived—Oh, I'm sorry, Anne! I can't explain. It just seemed
+natural to—"
+
+"Why did you come without letting me know?" she cried, and now her voice
+was shrill from the effort she made to suppress her agitation.
+
+"I should have telephoned," he muttered. Suddenly he tore the key from the
+ring. "Here! It does not belong to me. I should not have the key to your—"
+
+"Keep it," she said, drawing back. "I want you to keep it. I shall be
+happier if I know that you have the key to the place where I live. No! I
+will not take it."
+
+To her infinite surprise, he slipped the key into his pocket. She had
+expected him to throw it upon the floor as she resolutely placed her hands
+behind her back.
+
+"Very well," he said, rather roughly. "It is quite safe with me. I shall
+never forget myself again as I have to-day."
+
+For the first time since entering the door, he allowed his gaze to sweep
+the lofty hallway. But for the fact that he knew he had come into the
+right house, he would have doubted his own senses. There was nothing here,
+to remind him of the sombre, gloomy place that he had known from
+childhood's earliest days. All of the massive, ugly trappings were gone,
+and all of the gloom. The walls were bright, the rugs gay, the woodwork
+cheerfully white. He glanced quickly down the length of the hall and—yes,
+the suit of mail was gone! He was conscious of a great relief.
+
+Then his eyes fell upon her again. A strange, wistful little smile had
+appeared while his gaze went roving.
+
+"You see that I am trying not to be a coward," she said.
+
+"What a beast I was to write that thing to you," he cried. "I came down
+here to tell you that I am sorry. I don't want you to live here, Anne. It
+is—"
+
+"Ah, but I am here," she said, "and here I shall stay. We have done
+wonders with the place. You will not recognise it,—not a single corner of
+it, Braden. It was all very well as the home of a lonely old man who loved
+it, but it was not quite the place for a lonely young woman who hated it.
+Come! Let me show you the library. It is finished. I think you will say it
+is a woman's room now and not a man's. Some of the rooms upstairs are
+still unfinished. My own room is a joy. Everything is new and—"
+
+"Anne," he broke in, almost harshly, "it will come to nothing, you may as
+well know the truth now. It will save you a great deal of unhappiness, and
+it will allow you to look elsewhere for—"
+
+"Come into the library," she interrupted. "I already have had a great deal
+of unhappiness in that room, so I fancy it won't be so hard to hear what
+you have come to say to me if you say it to me there."
+
+He followed her to the library door, and there stopped in amazement,
+unwilling to credit his eyes. He was looking into the brightest, gayest
+room he had ever seen. An incredible transformation had taken place. The
+vast, stately, sober room had become dainty, exquisite, enchanting. Here,
+instead of oppressive elegance, was the most delicate beauty; here was
+exemplified at a glance the sweet, soft touch of woman in contrast to the
+heavy, uncompromising hand of man. Here was sweetness and freshness, and
+the sparkle of youth, and gone were the grim things of age. Here was light
+and happiness, and the fragrance of woman.
+
+"In heaven's name, what _have_ you done to this room?" he cried. "Am I in
+my right senses? Can this be my grandfather's house?"
+
+She smiled, and did not answer. She was watching his face with eager,
+wistful eyes.
+
+"Why, it's—it's unbelievable," he went on, an odd tremor in his voice. "It
+is wonderful. It is—why, it is beautiful, Anne. I could not have dreamed
+that such a change,—What has become of everything? What have you done with
+all the big, clumsy, musty things that—"
+
+"They are in a storage warehouse," said she crisply. "There isn't so much
+as a carpet-tack left of the old regime. Everything is gone. Every single
+thing that was here with your grandfather is gone. I alone am left. When I
+came down here two months ago the place was filled with the things that
+you remember. I had made up my mind to stay here,—but not with the things
+that I remembered. The first thing I did was to clean out the house from
+cellar to garret. I am not permitted to sell the contents of this house,
+but there was nothing to prevent me from storing them. Your grandfather
+overlooked that little point, I fear. In any event, that was the first
+thing I did. Everything is gone, mind you,—even to the portrait that used
+to hang over the mantelpiece there,—and it was the only cheerful object in
+the house. I wish I could show you my boudoir, my bedroom, and the rooms
+in which Mr. Thorpe lived. You—you would love them."
+
+He was now standing in the middle of the room, staring about him at the
+handiwork of Aladdin.
+
+"Why, it isn't—it will not be so dreadful, after all," he said slowly.
+"You have made it all so lovely, so homelike, so much like yourself
+that—you will not find it so hard to live here as I—"
+
+"I wanted you to like it, Braden. I wanted you to see the place,—to see
+what I have done to make it bright and cheerful and endurable. No, I
+sha'n't find it so hard to live here. I was sure that some day you would
+come to see me here and I wanted you to feel that—that it wasn't as hard
+for me as you thought it would be. I have been a coward, though. I confess
+that I could not have lived here with all those things about to—to remind
+me of—You see, I just _had_ to make the place possible. I hope you are not
+offended with me for what I have done. I have played havoc with sentiment
+and association, and you may feel that I—"
+
+"Offended? Good heavens, Anne, why should I be offended? You have a right
+to do what you like here."
+
+"Ah, but I do not forget that it is _your_ home, Braden, not mine. It will
+always be home to you, and I fear it can never be that to me. This is not
+much in the way of a library now, I confess. Thirty cases of books are
+safely stored away,—all of those old first editions and things of that
+sort. They meant nothing to me. I don't know what a first edition is, and
+I never could see any sense in those funny things he called missals, nor
+the incunabula, if that's the way you pronounce it. You may have liked
+them, Braden. If you care for them, if you would like to have them in your
+own house, you must let me _lend_ them to you. Everybody borrows books,
+you know. It would be quite an original idea to lend a whole library,
+wouldn't it? If you—"
+
+"They are better off in the storage warehouse," he interrupted, trying to
+steel himself against her rather plaintive friendliness.
+
+"Don't you intend to shake hands with me?" she asked suddenly. "I am so
+glad that you have come home,—come back, I mean,—and—" She advanced with
+her hand extended.
+
+It was a perilous moment for both of them when she laid her hand in his.
+The blood in both of them leaped to the thrill of contact. The impulse to
+clasp her in his arms, to smother her with kisses, to hold her so close
+that nothing could ever unlock his arms, was so overpowering that his head
+swam dizzily and for an instant he was deprived of vision. How he ever
+passed through that crisis in safety was one of the great mysteries of his
+life. She was his for the taking! She was ready.
+
+Their hands fell apart. A chill swept through the veins of both,—the ice-
+cold chill of a great reaction. They would go on loving each other,
+wanting each other, perhaps forever, but a moment like the one just past
+would never come again. Bliss, joy, complete satisfaction might come, but
+that instant of longing could never be surpassed.
+
+He was very white. For a long time he could not trust himself to speak.
+The fight was a hard one, and it was not yet over. She was a challenge to
+all that he tried to master. He wondered why there was a smile in her
+lovely, soft eyes, while in his own there must have been the hardness of
+steel. And he wondered long afterward how she could have possessed the
+calmness to say:
+
+"Simmy must have been insane with joy. He has talked of nothing else for
+days."
+
+But he did not know that in her secret heart she was crying out in
+ecstasy: "God, how I love him—and _how he loves me_!"
+
+"He is a good old scout," said he lamely, hardly conscious of the words.
+Then abruptly: "I can't stay, Anne. I came down to tell you that—that I
+was a dog to say what I did in my note to you. I knew the construction you
+would put upon the—well, the injunction. It wasn't fair. I led you to
+believe that if you came down here to live that sometime I would—"
+
+"Just a moment, Braden," she interrupted, steadily. "You are finding it
+very difficult to say just the right thing to me. Let me help you, please.
+I fear that I have a more ready tongue than you and certainly I am less
+agitated. I confess that your note decided me. I confess that I believed
+my coming here to live would result in—well, forgiveness is as good a word
+as any at this time. Now you have come to me to say that I have nothing to
+gain by living in this house, that I have nothing to gain by living in a
+place which revolts and terrifies me,—not always, but at times. Well, you
+may spare yourself the pain of saying all that to me. I shall continue to
+live here, even though nothing comes of it, as you say. I shall continue
+to sit here in this rather enchanting place and wait for you to come and
+share it with me. If you—"
+
+"Good God! That is just what I am trying to tell you that I cannot—"
+
+"I know, I know," she broke in impatiently. "That is just what you are
+trying to tell me, and this is just what I am trying to tell you. I do not
+say that you will ever come to me here, Braden. I am only saying to you
+that I shall wait for you. If you do not come, that is your affair, not
+mine. I love you. I love you with every bit of selfishness that is in my
+soul, every bit of goodness that is in my heart, and every bit of badness
+that is in my blood. I am proud to tell you that I am selfish in this one
+respect, if no longer in any other. I would give up everything else in the
+world to have you. That is how selfish I am. I want to be happy and I
+selfishly want you to be happy—for my sake if not for your own. Do you
+suppose that I am glorifying myself by living here? Do you suppose that I
+am justifying myself? If you do, you are very greatly mistaken. I am here
+because you led me to believe that—that things might be altered if I—" Her
+lips trembled despite the brave countenance she presented to him. In a
+second she had quelled the threatened weakness. "I have made this house a
+paradise. I have made it a place in which you may find happiness if you
+care to seek for it here. At night I shudder and cringe, because I am the
+coward you would try to reform. I hide nothing from myself. I am afraid to
+be alone in this house. But I shall stay—I shall stay."
+
+"Do you think that I could ever find happiness in this house—now?" he
+demanded hoarsely.
+
+"Do you expect to find happiness anywhere else, Braden?" she asked, a
+little break in her voice.
+
+"No. I shall never find happiness anywhere else,—real happiness, I mean. I
+cannot be happy without you, Anne."
+
+"Nor I without you," she said simply. "I don't see that it makes very much
+difference _where_ we choose to be unhappy, Braden, so I shall take mine
+here,—where it is likely to be complete."
+
+"But that is just what I don't want you to do," he cried angrily. "I don't
+want you to stay here. You must leave this place. You have had hell
+enough. I insist that you—"
+
+"No use arguing," she said, shaking her head. "I can love you here as well
+as anywhere else, and that is all I care for,—just my love for you."
+
+"God, what a cruel thing love is, after all. If there was no such thing as
+love, we could—"
+
+"Don't say that!" she cried out sharply. "Love is everything. It conquers
+everything. It is both good and evil. It makes happiness and it makes
+misery. Braden,—oh, my dearest!—see what it has made for us? Love! Why,
+don't you know it is Love that we love? _We love Love._ I would not love
+you if you were not Love itself. I treated you abominably, but you still
+love me. You performed an act of mercy for the man you loved, and he loved
+you. You cursed me in your heart, and I still love you. We cannot escape
+love, my friend. It rules us,—it rules all of us. The thing that you say
+stands between us—that act of mercy, dearest,—what effect has it had upon
+either of us? I would come to you to-morrow, to-day,—this very hour if you
+asked me to do so, and not in all the years that are left to me would I
+see the shadow you shrink from."
+
+"The shadow extends back a great deal farther, Anne," he said, closing his
+eyes as if in pain. "It began long before my grandfather found the peace
+which I have yet to find. It began when you sold yourself to him."
+
+She shrank slightly. "But even that did not kill your love for me," she
+cried out, defensively. "I did not sell my love,—just my soul, if you must
+have a charge against me. I've got it back, thank God, and it is worth a
+good deal more to me to-day than it was when Mr. Thorpe bargained for it.
+Two million dollars!" She spoke ironically, yet with great seriousness.
+"If he could have bought my love for that amount, his bargain would have
+been a good one. If I were to discover now that you do not care for me,
+Braden, and if I could buy your love, which is the most precious thing in
+the world to me, I would not hesitate a second to pay out every dollar I
+have in—"
+
+"Stop!" he cried eagerly, drawing a step nearer and fixing her with
+a look that puzzled and yet thrilled her. "Would you give up
+everything—everything, mind you,—if I were to ask you to do so?"
+
+"You said something like that a few months ago," she said, after a
+moment's hesitation. There was a troubled, hunted look in her eyes, as of
+a creature at bay. "You make it hard for me, Braden. I don't believe I
+could give up everything. I have found that all this money does not give
+me happiness. It does provide me with comfort, with independence, with a
+certain amount of power. It does not bring me the thing I want more than
+anything else in the world, however. Still I cannot say to you now that I
+would willingly give it up, Braden. You would not ask it of me, of course.
+You are too fair and big—"
+
+"But it is exactly what I would ask of you, Anne," he said earnestly, "if
+it came to an issue. You could not be anything more to me than you are now
+if you retained a dollar of that money."
+
+She drew a long, deep breath. "Would you take me back, Braden,—would you
+let me be your wife if I—if I were to give up all that I received from Mr.
+Thorpe?" She was watching his face closely, ready to seize upon the
+slightest expression that might direct her course, now or afterwards.
+
+"I—I—Oh, Anne, we must not harass ourselves like this," he groaned. "It is
+all so hopeless, so useless. It never can be, so what is the use in
+talking about it?"
+
+She now appeared to be a little more sure of her ground. There was a note
+of confidence in her voice as she said: "In that event, it can do no harm
+for me to say that I do not believe I could give it up, Braden."
+
+"You _wouldn't_?"
+
+"If I were to give up all this money, Braden dear, I would prove myself to
+be the most selfish creature in the world."
+
+"Selfish? Good Lord! It would be the height of self-denial. It—"
+
+"When a woman wants something so much that she will give up everything in
+the world to get it, I claim that she is selfish to the last degree. She
+gratifies self, and there is no other way to look at it. And I will admit
+to you now, Braden, that if there is no other way, I will give up all this
+money. That may represent to you just how much I think of _self_. But,"
+and she smiled confidently, "I don't intend to impoverish myself if I can
+help it, and I don't believe you are selfish enough to ask it of me."
+
+"Would you call Lutie selfish?" he demanded. "She gave up everything for
+George."
+
+"Lutie is impulsive. She did it voluntarily. No one demanded it of her.
+She was not obliged to give back a penny, you must remember. My case is
+different. You would demand a sacrifice of me. Lutie did not sell herself
+in the beginning. She sold George. She bought him back. If George was
+worth thirty thousand dollars to her, you are worth two millions to me.
+She gave her _all_, and that would be my _all_. She was willing to pay. Am
+I? That is the question."
+
+"You would have to give it up, Anne," said he doggedly.
+
+He saw the colour fade from her cheeks, and the lustre from her eyes.
+
+"I am not sure that I could do it, Braden," she said, after a long
+silence. Then, almost fiercely: "Will you tell me how I should go about
+getting rid of all this money,—sensibly,—if I were inclined to do so? What
+could I do with it? Throw it away? Destroy it? Burn—"
+
+"There isn't much use discussing ways and means," he said with finality in
+his manner. "I'm sorry we brought the subject up. I came here with a very
+definite object in view, and we—well, you see what we have come to."
+
+"Oh, I—I love you so!" came tremulously from her lips. "I love you so,
+Braden. I—I don't see how I can go on living without—" She suppressed the
+wild, passionate words by deliberately clapping her hands, one above the
+other, over her lips. Red surged to her brow and a look of exquisite shame
+and humiliation leaped into her eyes.
+
+"Anne, Anne—" he began, but she turned on him furiously.
+
+"Why do you lie to me? Why do you lie to yourself? You came here to-day
+because you were mad with the desire to see me, to be near me, to—Oh, you
+need not deny it! You have been crying out for me ever since the day you
+last held me in your arms and kissed me,—ages ago!—just as I have been
+crying out for you. Don't say that you came here merely to tell me that I
+must not live in this house if it leads me to hope for—recompense. Don't
+say that, because it is not the real reason, and you know it. You would
+have remained in Europe if you were through with me, as you would have
+yourself believe. But you are not through with me. You never will be. If
+you cannot be fair with yourself, Braden, you should at least be fair with
+me. You should not have come here to-day. But you could not help it, you
+could not resist. It will always be like this, and it is not fair, it is
+not fair. You say we never can be married to each other. What is there
+left for us, I ask of you,—what will all this lead to? We are not saints.
+We are not made of stone. We—"
+
+"God in heaven, Anne," he cried, aghast and incredulous. "Do you know what
+you are saying? Do you think I would drag you down, despoil you—"
+
+"Oh, you would be honest enough to marry me—_then_," she cried out
+bitterly. "Your sense of honour would attend to all that. You—"
+
+"Stop!" he commanded, standing over her as she shrank back against the
+wall. "Do you think that I love you so little that I could—Love? Is that
+the kind of love that you have been extolling to the skies?"
+
+She covered her flaming face with her hands. "Forgive me, forgive me!" she
+murmured, brokenly. "I am so ashamed of myself."
+
+He was profoundly moved. A great pity for her swept through him. "I shall
+not come again," he said hoarsely. "I will be fair. You are right. You see
+more clearly than I can see. I must not come to you again unless I come to
+ask you to be my wife. You are right. We would go mad with—"
+
+"Listen to me, Braden," she interrupted in a strangely quiet manner. "I
+shall never ask you to come to me. If you want me you must ask me to come
+to you. I will come. But you are to impose no conditions. You must leave
+me to fight out my own battle. My love is so great, so honest, so strong
+that it will triumph over everything else. Listen! Let me say this to you
+before I send you away from me to-day. Love is relentless. It wrecks
+homes, it sends men to the gallows and women to the madhouse. It makes
+drunkards, suicides and murderers of noble men and women. It causes men
+and women to abandon homes, children, honour—and all the things that
+should be dear to them. It impoverishes, corrupts and—defiles. It makes
+cowards of brave men and brave men of cowards. The thing we call love has
+a thousand parts. It has purity, nobility, grandeur, greed, envy,
+lust—everything. You have heard of good women abandoning good husbands for
+bad lovers. You have heard of good mothers giving up the children they
+worship. You have heard of women and men murdering husbands and wives in
+order to remove obstacles from the path of love. One woman whom we both
+know recently gave up wealth, position, honour, children,—everything,—to
+go down into poverty and disgrace with the man she loved. You know who I
+mean. She did it because she could not help herself. Opposed to the evil
+that love can do, there is always the beautiful, the sweet, the pure,—and
+it is that kind of love that rules the world. But the other kind _is_
+love, just the same, and while it does not govern the world, it is none
+the less imperial. What I want to say to you is this: while love may
+govern the world, the world cannot govern love. You cannot govern this
+love you have for me, although you may control it. Nor can I destroy the
+love I have for you. I may not deserve your love, but I have it and you
+cannot take it away from me. Some other woman may rob me of it, perhaps,
+but you cannot do it, my friend. I will wait for you to come and get me,
+Braden. Now, go,—please go,—and do not come here again until—" she smiled
+faintly.
+
+He lowered his head. "I will not come again, Anne," he said huskily.
+
+She did not follow him to the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+Anne left town about the middle of June and did not return until late in
+September. She surprised every one who knew her by going to Nova Scotia,
+where she took a cottage in one of the quaint old coast towns. Lutie and
+George and the baby spent the month of August with her. Near the close of
+their visit, Anne made an announcement that, for one day at least, caused
+them to doubt, very gravely, whether she was in her right mind. George,
+very much perturbed, went so far as to declare to Lutie in the seclusion
+of their bedroom that night, that Anne was certainly dotty. And the queer
+part of it all was that he couldn't, for the life of him, feel sorry about
+it!
+
+The next morning they watched her closely, at times furtively, and waited
+for her to either renounce the decision of the day before or reveal some
+sign that she had no recollection of having made the astounding statement
+at all,—in which case they could be certain that she had been a bit
+flighty and would be in a position to act accordingly. (Get a specialist
+after her, or something like that.) But Anne very serenely discoursed on
+the sweetest sleep she had known in years, and declared she was ready for
+_anything_, even the twelve-mile tramp that George had been trying so hard
+to get her to take with him. Her eyes were brighter, her cheeks rosier
+than they had been for months, and, to George's unbounded amazement, she
+ate a hearty breakfast with them.
+
+"I have written to Simmy," said she, "and James has posted the letter. The
+die is cast. Congratulate me!"
+
+"But, hang it all," cried George desperately, "I still believe you are
+crazy, Anne, so—how can I congratulate you? My Lord, girl—"
+
+He stopped short, for Lutie sprang up from the table and threw her arms
+around Anne. She kissed her rapturously, all the time gurgling something
+into her ear that George could not hear, and perhaps would not have
+understood if he had. Then they both turned toward him, shining-eyed and
+exultant. An instant later he rushed over and enveloped both of them in
+his long, strong arms and shouted out that he was crazy too.
+
+Anne's letter to Simmy was a long one, and she closed it with the
+sentence: "You may expect me not later than the twentieth of September."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Thorpe grew thin and haggard as the summer wore away; his nerves were in
+such a state that he seriously considered giving up his work, for the time
+being, at least. The truth was gradually being forced in upon him that his
+hand was no longer as certain, no longer as steady as it had been. Only by
+exercising the greatest effort of the will was he able to perform the
+delicate work he undertook to do in the hospitals. He was gravely alarmed
+by the ever-growing conviction that he was never sure of himself. Not that
+he had lost confidence in his ability, but he was acutely conscious of
+having lost interest. He was fighting all the time, but it was his own
+fight and not that of others. Day and night he was fighting something that
+would not fight back, and yet was relentless; something that was content
+to sit back in its own power and watch him waste his strength and
+endurance. Each succeeding hour saw him grow weaker under the strain. He
+was fighting the thing that never surrenders, never weakens, never dies.
+He was struggling against a mighty, world-old Giant, born the day that
+God's first man was created, and destined to live with all God's men from
+that time forth: Passion.
+
+Time and again he went far out of his way to pass by the house near
+Washington Square, admittedly surreptitious in his movements. On hot
+nights he rode down Fifth Avenue on the top of the stages, and always cast
+an eye to the right in passing the street in which Anne lived, looking in
+vain for lights in the windows of the closed house. And an hundred times a
+day he thought of the key that no longer kept company with others at the
+end of a chain but lay loose in his trousers' pocket. Times there were
+when an almost irresistible desire came upon him to go down there late at
+night and enter the house, risking discovery by the servants who remained
+in quarters, just for a glimpse of the rooms upstairs she had
+described,—her own rooms,—the rooms in which she dreamed of him.
+
+He affected the society of George and Lutie, spending a great deal of his
+leisure with them, scorning himself the while for the perfectly obvious
+reason that moved him. Automobile jaunts into the country were not
+infrequent. He took them out to the country inns for dinner, to places
+along the New Jersey and Long Island shores, to the show grounds at Coney
+Island. There were times when he could have cursed himself for leading
+them to believe that he was interested only in their affairs and not in
+this affair of his own; times when he realised to the full that he was
+_using_ them to satisfy a certain craving. They were close to Anne in
+every way; they represented her by proxy; they had letters from her
+written in the far-off town in Canada; she loved them, she encouraged
+them, she envied them. And they talked of her,—how they talked of her!
+
+More than all else, George and Lutie personified Love. They represented
+love triumphant over all. Their constancy had been rewarded, and the odds
+had been great against it. He was contented and happy when near them, for
+they gave out love, they radiated it, they lived deep in the heart of it.
+He craved the company of these serene, unselfish lovers because they were
+brave and strong and inspiring. He fed hungrily on their happiness, and he
+honestly tried to pay them for what they gave to him.
+
+He was glad to hear that George was going into a new and responsible
+position in the fall,—a six thousand dollar a year job in the office of a
+big manufacturing company. He rejoiced not because George was going ahead
+so splendidly but because his advancement was a justification of Anne's
+faith in her seemingly unworthy brother,—and, moreover, there was
+distinctly something to be said for the influence of love.
+
+When George's family departed for the north, Thorpe was like a lost soul.
+In the first week of their absence, he found himself more than once on the
+point of throwing everything aside and rushing off after them. His
+scruples, his principles, his resolutions were shaken in the mighty grasp
+of despair. There were to be no more letters, and, worse than all else,
+she would not be lonely!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One day late in August Simmy Dodge burst in upon him. He had motored in
+from Southampton and there was proof that he had not dallied along the
+way. His haste in exploding in Thorpe's presence was evidence of an
+unrestrained eagerness to have it over with.
+
+"My God!" he shouted, tugging at his goggles with nervous hands from which
+he had forgotten to remove his gloves. "You've got to put a stop to this
+sort of thing. It can't go on. She must be crazy,—stark, raving crazy. You
+must not let her do this—"
+
+"What the devil are you talking about?" gasped Thorpe, acutely alarmed by
+the little man's actions, to say nothing of his words, which under other
+circumstances might have been at least intelligent.
+
+"Anne! Why, she's—What do you think she's going to do? Or maybe you know
+already. Maybe you've put her up to this idiotic—Say, what _do_ you know
+about it?" He was glaring at his friend. The goggles rested on the floor
+in a far corner of the consultation-room.
+
+"In heaven's name, Simmy, cool off! I haven't the remotest idea of what
+you are talking about. What has happened?"
+
+"Nothing has happened yet. And it mustn't happen at all. You've got to
+stop her. She has threatened to do it before, and now she comes out flat-
+footed and says she's going to do it,—absolutely, irrevocably, positively.
+Is that plain enough for you? Absolutely, irrev—"
+
+"Would you mind telling me what she is going to do?"
+
+Simmy sat down rather abruptly and wiped his moist, dust-blackened brow.
+
+"She's going to give away every damned nickel of that money she got from
+old Mr. Thorpe,—every damned nickel of it, do you hear? My God! She _is_
+crazy, Brady. We've got to put her in a sanitarium—or torium—as soon as we
+can get hold of—Hi! Look out!"
+
+Thorpe had leaped forward and was shaking him furiously by the shoulders.
+His eyes were wide and gleaming.
+
+"Say that again! Say it again!" he shouted.
+
+"Say it, damn you, Simmy! Can't you see that I want you to say it again—"
+
+"Say—it—again," chattered Simmy. "Let go! How the dickens can I say
+anything with you mauling me all over the—"
+
+"I'm sorry! I will—try to be sensible—and quiet. Now, go on, old
+chap,—tell me all there is to tell." He sank into a chair and leaned
+forward, watching every expression that crossed his friend's face—watching
+with an intensity that finally got on Simmy's nerves.
+
+"She wrote me,—I got the letter yesterday,—Lordy, what did I do with it?
+Never mind. I'll look for it later on. I can remember nearly every word,
+so it doesn't matter. She says she has made up her mind to give all that
+money to charity. Some darned nonsense about never knowing happiness as
+long as she has the stuff in her possession. Absolute idiocy! Wants me to
+handle the matter for her. Lawyer, and all that sort of thing, you see. I
+know what the game is, and so do you. She'd sooner have you than all that
+money. By Gosh! I—here's something I never thought of before." He paused
+and wiped his brow, utter bewilderment in his eyes. "It has just occurred
+to me that I'd sooner have Anne than all the money I've got. I've said
+that to myself a thousand times and—But that has nothing to do with the
+case. Lordy, it gave me a shock for a second or two, though. Seems to
+knock my argument all to smash. Still there _is_ a difference. I didn't
+_earn_ my money. Where was I? Oh, yes,—er—she's got the idea into her head
+that she can never be anything to you until she gets rid of that money.
+Relief fund! Red Cross! Children's Welfare! Tuberculosis camps! All of
+'em! Great snakes! Every nickel! Can you beat it? Now, there's just one
+way to stop this confounded nonsense. You can do it, and you've got to
+come to the mark."
+
+Thorpe was breathing fast, his eyes were glowing. "But suppose that I fail
+to regard it as confounded nonsense. Suppose—"
+
+"Will you marry Anne Thorpe if she gives up this money?" demanded Simmy
+sharply.
+
+"That has nothing to do with Anne's motives," said Thorpe grimly. "She
+wants to give it up because it is burning her soul, Simmy."
+
+"Rats! You make me sick, talking like that. She is giving it up for your
+sake and not because her soul is even uncomfortably hot. Now, I want to
+see you two patch things up, cut out the nonsense, and get married,—but I
+don't intend to see Anne make a fool of herself if I can help it. That
+money is Anne's. The house is hers. The—By the way, she says she intends
+to _keep_ the house. But how in God's name is she going to maintain it if
+she hasn't a dollar in the world? Think the Red Cross will help her when
+she begins to starve down there—"
+
+"I shall do nothing to stop her, Simmy," said Thorpe firmly. "If she has
+made up her mind to give all that money to charity, it is her affair, not
+mine. God knows the Red Cross Society and the Relief Funds need it now
+more than ever before. I'll tell you what I think of Anne Tresslyn's
+sacri—"
+
+"Anne Thorpe, if you please."
+
+"She _hates_—do you hear?—_hates_ the money that my grandfather gave to
+her. It hurts her in more ways than you can ever suspect. Her honour, her
+pride, her peace of mind—all of them and more. She sold me out, and she
+hates the price she received. It is something deeper with her than mere—"
+
+"You are wrong," broke in Simmy, suddenly calm. He leaned forward and laid
+his hand on Thorpe's knee. "She wants you more than anything else in the
+world. You are worth more to her than all the money ever coined. It is no
+real sacrifice, the way she feels about it now, but—listen to me! I am not
+going to stand idly by and see her make herself as poor as Job's turkey
+unless I know—positively know, do you hear,—that she is not to lose out
+entirely. You've just got to say one thing or the other, Brady, before
+it's too late. If she does all this for you, what will you do for her?"
+
+Thorpe got up from his chair and began pacing the office, his lips
+compressed, his eyes lowered. At last he stopped in front of Simmy.
+
+"If I were you, Simmy, I would tell her at once that—it will be of no
+avail."
+
+Simmy glowered to the best of his ability. "Have you never asked her to
+make this sacrifice? Have you never given her a ray of hope on which—"
+
+"Yes,—I will be honest with you,—I asked her if she _could_ give it up."
+
+"There you are!" said Simmy triumphantly. "I was pretty sure you had said
+something—"
+
+"My God, Simmy, I—I don't know what to do," groaned Thorpe, throwing
+himself into a chair and staring miserably into the eyes of his friend.
+
+"There is just one thing you are not to do," said the other gently. "You
+are not to let her do this thing unless you are prepared to meet her half-
+way. If she does her half, you must do yours. I am looking out for her
+interests now, old chap, and I mean to see that she gets fair play. You
+have no right to let her make this sacrifice unless you are ready to do
+your part."
+
+"Then say to her for me that she must keep the money, every penny of it."
+
+Simmy was staggered. "But she—she doesn't want it," he muttered, lamely.
+His face brightened. "I say, old boy, why let the measly money stand in
+the way? Take her and the money too. Don't be so darned finicky about—"
+
+"Come, come, old fellow," protested Thorpe, eyeing him coldly.
+
+"All right," said Simmy resignedly. "I'll say no more along that line. But
+I'm going to make you give her a square deal. This money is hers. She
+bargained for it, and it belongs to her. She sha'n't throw it away if I
+can help it. I came here to ask you to use your influence, to help me and
+to help her. You say that she is to keep the money. That means—there's no
+other chance for her?"
+
+"She knows how I feel about it," said Thorpe doggedly.
+
+"I'll tell her just what you've said. But suppose that she insists on
+going ahead with this idiotic scheme of hers? Suppose she really hates the
+money and wants to get rid of it, just as she says? Suppose this is no
+part of a plan to reconcile—Well, you see what I mean. What then? What's
+to become of her?"
+
+"I don't know," said Thorpe dully. "I don't know."
+
+"She will be practically penniless, Brady. Her mother will not help her.
+God, how Mrs. Tresslyn will rage when she hears of this! Lordy, Lordy!"
+
+Thorpe leaned back in the chair and covered his eyes with his hands. For a
+long time he sat thus, scarcely breathing. Simmy watched him in
+perplexity.
+
+"It would be awful to see Anne Tresslyn penniless," said the little man
+finally, a queer break in his voice. "She's a fair fighter, my boy. She
+doesn't whimper. She made her mistake and she's willing to pay. One
+couldn't ask more than that of any one. It means a good deal for her to
+chuck all this money. I don't want her to do it. I'm fond of her, Brady.
+I, for one, can't bear the thought of her going about in rummy old clothes
+and—well, that's just what it will come to—unless she marries some one
+else."
+
+The hands fell from Thorpe's eyes suddenly. "She will not marry any one
+else," he exclaimed. "What do you mean? What have you heard? Is there—"
+
+"My Lord, you don't expect the poor girl to remain single all the rest of
+her life just to please you, do you?" roared Simmy, springing to his feet.
+"You must not forget that she is young and very beautiful and she'll
+probably be very poor. And God knows there are plenty of us who would like
+to marry her!" He took a turn or two up and down the room and then stopped
+before Thorpe, in whose eyes there was a new and desperate anxiety, born
+of alarm. "She wants me to arrange matters so that she can begin turning
+over this money soon after she comes down in September. She hasn't touched
+the principal. If she sticks to her intention, I'll have to do it. Here is
+her letter. I'll read it to you. George and Lutie know everything, and she
+is writing to her mother, she says. Not a word about you, however. Now,
+listen to what she says, and—for God's sake, _do something_!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+
+Anne's strictest injunction to Simmy Dodge bore upon the anonymity of the
+contributions to the various specified charities. Huge sums were to be
+delivered at stated intervals, covering a period of six months. At the end
+of that period she would have contributed the whole of her fortune to
+charity and, through its agencies, to humanity. The only obligation
+demanded in return from any of these organisations was a pledge of
+secrecy, and from this pledge there was to be no release until such time
+as the donor herself announced her willingness to make public the nature
+and extent of her benefactions. It was this desire to avoid publicity that
+appealed most strongly to Thorpe. As for poor Simmy,—he could not
+understand it at all.
+
+Grimly, Anne's lover refused to interfere with her plans. He went about
+his work from that day on, however, with a feverish eagerness and zest,
+and an exaltation that frequently lifted him to a sort of glory that he
+could neither define nor deny. There were moments when he slipped far back
+into the depths, and cursed himself for rejoicing in the sacrifice she was
+apparently so willing to make. And at such times he found that he had to
+resist an impulse that was almost overwhelming in its force: the impulse
+to rush down to her and cry out that the sacrifice was not necessary!
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn came to see him shortly after Anne's return to the city. She
+was humble. When she was announced, he prepared himself for a bitter
+scene. But she was not bitter, she was not furious; on the contrary, she
+was gentler than he had ever known her to be.
+
+"If you do not take her now, Braden," she said in the course of their
+brief interview, "I do not know what will become of her. I blame myself
+for everything, of course. It was I who allowed her to go into that
+unhappy business of getting Mr. Thorpe's money, and I _am_ to blame. I
+should have allowed her to marry you in the beginning. I should not have
+been deceived by the cleverness of your amiable grandfather. But, you see
+I counted on something better than this for her. I thought,—and she
+thought as well,—that she could one day have both you and the money. It is
+a pretty hard thing to say, isn't it? I saw her to-day. She is quite
+happy,—really it seems to me she was radiantly happy this morning. Simmy
+has arranged for the first instalment of five hundred thousand dollars to
+be paid over to-morrow. She herself has selected the securities that are
+to make up this initial payment. They are the best of the lot, Simmy tells
+me. In a few months she will be penniless. I don't know what is to become
+of her, Braden, if you do not take her when all this absurd business is
+over. You love her and she loves you. Both of you should hate me, but
+Anne, for one, does not. She is sorrier for me than she is for herself. Of
+course, you are to understand one thing, Braden." She lifted her chin
+proudly. "She may return to me at any time. My home is hers. She shall
+never want for anything that I am able to give her. She is my daughter
+and—well, you are to understand that I shall stand by her, no matter what
+she does. I have but one object in coming to see you to-day. I need not
+put it into words."
+
+A few days later Simmy came in, drooping. "Well, the first half-million is
+gone. Next month another five hundred thousand goes. I hope you are happy,
+Brady."
+
+"I hope Anne is happy," was all that Thorpe said in response.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+No word came to him from Anne. She was as silent as the sphinx. Not a day
+passed that did not find him running eagerly,—hopefully,—through his mail,
+looking for the letter he hoped for and was sure that eventually she would
+write to him. But no letter came. The only news he had of her was obtained
+through Simmy, who kept him acquainted with the progress of his client's
+affairs, forgetting quite simply the admonition concerning secrecy.
+
+Thorpe virtually abandoned his visits to the home of the young Tresslyns.
+He had them out to dinner and the theatre occasionally. They talked quite
+freely with him about the all-important topic, and seemed not to be
+unhappy or unduly exercised over the step Anne had taken. In fact, George
+was bursting with pride in his sister. Apparently he had no other thought
+than that everything would turn out right and fair for her in the end. But
+the covert, anxious, analysing look in Lutie's eyes was always present and
+it was disconcerting.
+
+He avoided the little flat in which he had spent so many happy, and in a
+sense profitable hours, and they appreciated his reason for doing so. They
+kept their own counsel. He had no means of knowing that Anne Thorpe's
+visits were but little more frequent than his.
+
+Anne's silence, her persistent aloofness, began to irritate him at last.
+Weeks had passed since her return to the city and she had given no sign.
+He had long since ceased his sly pilgrimages to the neighbourhood of
+Washington Square. Now as the days grew shorter and the nights infinitely
+longer, he was conscious, first, of a distinct feeling of resentment
+toward her, and later on of an acute sense of uneasiness. The long, dreary
+hours of darkness fed him with reflections that kept him awake most of the
+night, and only his iron will held his hand and nerves steady during the
+days between the black seasons. The theatre palled on him, books failed to
+hold his attention, people annoyed him. He could not concentrate his
+thoughts on study; his mind was forever journeying. What was she doing?
+Every minute of the day he was asking that question of himself. It was in
+the printed pages of the books he read; it was on the lips of every
+lecturer he listened to; it was placarded on every inch of scenery in the
+theatre,—always: "Where is she to-night? What is she doing?"
+
+And then, at last, one cold, rainy night in late November he resumed his
+stealthy journeys to lower Fifth Avenue atop of the stage, protected by a
+thick ulster and hidden as well as he could be in the shelter of a rigidly
+grasped umbrella. Alighting in front of the Brevoort, he slunk rather than
+sauntered up the Avenue until he came to the cross-town street in which
+she lived,—in which he once had lived. It was a fair night for such an
+adventure as this. There were but few people abroad. The rain was falling
+steadily and there was a gusty wind. He had left his club at ten o'clock,
+and all the way down the Avenue he was alone on the upper deck of the
+stage. Afterwards he chuckled guiltily to himself as he recalled the odd
+stare with which the conductor favoured him when he jestingly inquired if
+there was "any room aloft."
+
+Walking down the street toward Sixth Avenue, he peered out from beneath
+the umbrella as he passed his grandfather's house across the way. There
+were lights downstairs. A solitary taxi-cab stood in front of the house.
+He quickened his pace. He did not want to charge himself with spying. A
+feeling of shame and mortification came over him as he hurried along; his
+face burned. He was not acting like a man, but as a love-sick, jealous
+school-boy would have behaved. And yet all the way up Sixth Avenue to
+Fifty-ninth Street,—he walked the entire distance,—he wondered why he had
+not waited to see who came forth from Anne's house to enter the taxi-cab.
+
+For a week he stubbornly resisted the desire to repeat the trip down-town.
+In the meantime, Simmy had developed into a most unsatisfactory informant.
+He suddenly revealed an astonishing streak of uncommunicativeness, totally
+unnatural in him and tantalising in the extreme. He rarely mentioned
+Anne's name and never discussed her movements. Thorpe was obliged to
+content himself with an occasional word from Lutie,—who was also painfully
+reticent,—and now and then a scrap of news in the society columns of the
+newspapers. Once he saw her in the theatre. She was with other people, all
+of whom he knew. One of them was Percy Wintermill. He began on that night
+to hate Wintermill. The scion of the Wintermill family sat next to Anne
+and there was nothing in his manner to indicate that he had resigned
+himself to defeat in the lists.
+
+If Anne saw him she did not betray the fact. He waited outside for a
+fairer glimpse of her as she left the theatre. What he saw at close range
+from his carefully chosen position was not calculated to relieve his mind.
+She appeared to be quite happy. There was nothing in her appearance or in
+her manner to indicate that she suffered,—and he _wanted_ her to suffer as
+he was suffering. That night he did not close his eyes.
+
+He had said to her that he would never marry her even though she gave up
+the money she had received from his grandfather, and she had said—how well
+he remembered!—that if George was worth thirty thousand dollars to Lutie,
+which was her _all_,—he was worth two millions to her, and her _all_. She
+was paying for him now, just as Lutie had paid for George, only in Lutie's
+case there was the assurance that the sacrifice would bring its own
+consolation and reward. Anne was going ahead blindly, trusting to an
+uncertainty. She had his word for it that the sacrifice would bring no
+reward through him, and yet she persisted in the vain enterprise. She had
+likened herself, in a sense, to Lutie, and now he was beginning to think
+of himself as he had once thought of George Tresslyn!
+
+He recalled his pitying scorn for the big, once useless boy during that
+long period of dog-like watchfulness over the comings and goings of the
+girl he loved. He had felt sorry for him and yet pleased with him. There
+was something admirable in the stubborn, drunken loyalty of George
+Tresslyn,—a loyalty that never wavered even though there was no such thing
+as hope ahead of him.
+
+As time went on, Thorpe, the sound, sober, indomitable Thorpe,—began to
+encourage himself with the thought that he too might sink to the
+extremities through which George had passed,—and be as simple and as firm
+in his weakness as the other had been! He too might stand in dark places
+and watch, he too might slink behind like a thing in the night. Only in
+his case the conditions would be reversed. He would be fighting conviction
+and not hope, for he knew he had but to walk into Anne's presence and
+speak,—and the suspense would be over. She was waiting for him. It was he
+who would have to surrender, not she.
+
+He fought desperately with himself; the longing to see her, to be near
+her, to test his vaunted self-control, never for an instant subsided. He
+fought the harder because he was always asking himself why he fought at
+all. Why should he not take what belonged to him? Why should he deny
+himself happiness when it was so much to be desired and so easy to obtain?
+
+But always when he was nearest to the breaking point, and the rush of
+feeling was at flood, there crept up beside him the shadow that threatened
+his very existence and hers. He had taken the life of her husband. He had
+no right to her. Down in his heart he knew that there was no moral ground
+for the position he took and from which he could not extricate himself. He
+had committed no crime. There had been no thought of himself in that
+solemn hour when he delivered his best friend out of bondage. Anne had no
+qualms, and he knew her to be a creature of fine feelings. She had always
+revolted against the unlovely aspects of life, and all this despite the
+claim she made that love would survive the most unholy of oppressions.
+What was it then that _he_ was afraid of? What was it that made him hold
+back while love tugged so violently, so persistently at his heart-strings?
+
+At times he had flashes of the thing that created the shadow, and it was
+then that he grasped, in a way, the true cause of his fears. Back of
+everything he realised there was the most uncanny of superstitions. He
+could not throw off the feeling that his grandfather, in his grave, still
+had his hand lifted against his marriage with Anne Tresslyn; that the
+grim, loving old man still regarded himself as a safeguard against the
+connivings of Anne!
+
+His common sense, of course, resisted this singular notion. He had but to
+recall his grandfather's praise of Anne just before he went to his death.
+Surely that signified an altered opinion of the girl, and no doubt there
+was in his heart during those last days of life, a very deep, if puzzled,
+admiration for her. And yet, despite the conviction that his grandfather,
+had he been pressed for a definite statement would have declared himself
+as being no longer opposed to his marriage with Anne, there still remained
+the fact that he had gone to his grave without a word to show that he
+regarded his experiment as a failure. And he had gone to his grave in a
+manner that left no room for doubt that his death was to stand always as
+an obstacle in the path of the lovers. There were times when Braden Thorpe
+could have cursed his grandfather for the cruel cunning to which he had
+resorted in the end.
+
+He could not free himself of the ridiculous, distorted and oft-recurring
+notion that his grandfather was watching him from beyond the grave, nor
+were all his scientific convictions sufficient to dispel the fear that men
+live after death and govern the destinies of those who remain.
+
+But through all of these vain struggles, his love for Anne grew stronger,
+more overpowering. He was hollow-eyed and gaunt, ravenous with the hunger
+of love. A spectre of his former self, he watched himself starve with
+sustenance at hand. Bountiful love lay within his grasp and yet he
+starved. Full, rich pastures spread out before him wherein he could roam
+to the end of his days, blissfully gorging himself,—and yet he starved.
+And Anne, who dwelt in those elysian pastures, was starving too!
+
+Once more he wavered and again he fell. He found himself at midnight
+standing at the corner above Anne's home, staring at the darkened
+unresponsive windows. Three nights passed before he resumed the hateful
+vigil. This time there were lights. And from that time on, he went almost
+nightly to the neighbourhood of Washington Square, regardless of weather
+or inconvenience. He saw her come and go, night after night, and he saw
+people enter the house to which he held a key,—always he saw from obscure
+points of vantage and with the stealth and caution of a malefactor.
+
+He came to realise in course of time that she was not at peace with
+herself, notwithstanding a certain assumption of spiritedness with which
+she fared into the world with others. At first he was deceived by
+appearances, but later on he knew that she was not the happy, interested
+creature she affected to be when adventuring forth in search of pleasure.
+He observed that she tripped lightly down the steps on leaving the house,
+and that she ascended them slowly, wearily, almost reluctantly on her
+return, far in the night. He invariably waited for the lights to appear in
+the shaded windows of her room upstairs, and then he would hurry away as
+if pursued. Once, after roaming the streets for two hours following her
+return to the house, he wended his way back to the spot from which he had
+last gazed at her windows. To his surprise the lights were still burning.
+After that he never left the neighbourhood until he saw that the windows
+were dark, and more often than otherwise the lights did not go out until
+two or three o'clock in the morning. The significance of these nightly
+indications of sleeplessness on her part did not escape him.
+
+Bitterly cold and blustering were some of the nights. He sought warmth and
+shelter from time to time in the near-by cafés, always returning to his
+post when the call became irresistible. It was his practice to go to the
+cheap and lowly cafés, places where he was not likely to be known despite
+his long residence in the community. He did not drink. It had, of course,
+occurred to him that he might find solace in resorting to the cup that
+cheers, but never for an instant was he tempted to do so. He was too
+strong for that!
+
+Curiosity led him one night to the restaurant of Josiah Wade. He did not
+enter, but stood outside peering through the window. It was late at night
+and old Wade was closing the place. A young woman whom Thorpe took to be
+his wife was chatting amiably with a stalwart youth near the cash
+register. He did not fail to observe the furtive, shifty glances that Wade
+shot out from under his bushy eyebrows in the direction of the couple.
+
+He knew, through Simmy, that the last of Templeton Thorpe's money would
+soon pass from Anne's hands. A million and a half was gone. The time for
+the last to go was rapidly approaching. She would soon be poorer than when
+she entered upon the infamous enterprise. There would still remain to her
+the house in which she lived. It was not a part of the purchase price. It
+was outside of the bargain she had made, and the right to sell it was
+forbidden her. But possesion of it was a liability rather than an asset.
+He wondered what she would do when it came down to the house in which she
+lived.
+
+Again and again he apostrophized himself as follows: "My God, what am I
+coming to? Is this madness? Am I as George Tresslyn was, am I no nobler
+than he? Or was he noble in spite of himself, and am I noble in the same
+sense? If I am mad with love, if I am weak and accursed by consequences,
+why should not she be weaker than I? She is a woman. I am—or was—a man.
+Why should I sink to such a state as this and she remain brave and strong
+and resolute? She keeps away from me, why should I not stay away from her?
+God knows I have tried to resist this thing that she resists, and what
+have I come to? A street loafer, a spy, a sneak, a dog without a master.
+She is doing a big thing, and I am doing the smallest thing that man can
+do. She loves me and longs for me and—Oh, what damned madness is it that
+brings me to loving her and longing for her and yet makes of me a thing so
+much less worthy than she?" And so on by the hour, day and night, he
+cursed himself with questions.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The end came swiftly, resistlessly. She paused at the bottom of the steps
+as the automobile slid off into the chill, windy night. For the first time
+in all his vigil, he noted the absence of the footman who always ran up
+the steps ahead of her to open the door. She was alone to-night. This had
+never happened before. Mystified, he saw her slowly ascend the steps and
+pause before the door. Her body drooped wearily. He waited long for her to
+press the electric button which had taken the place of the ancient knob
+that jangled the bell at the far end of the hall. But she remained
+motionless for what seemed to him an interminable time, and then, to his
+consternation, she leaned against the door and covered her face with her
+hands.
+
+A great weight suddenly was lifted from his soul; a vast exaltation drove
+out everything that had been oppressing him for so long. He was free! He
+was free of the thing that had been driving him to death. Joy, so
+overwhelming in its rush that he almost collapsed as it assailed him,
+swept aside every vestige of resistance,—and, paradox of paradoxes,—made a
+man of him! He was a man and he would—But even as his jaw set and his body
+straightened in its old, dominant strength, she opened the door and passed
+into the dim hall beyond.
+
+He was half across the street when the door closed behind her, but he did
+not pause. His hand came from his pocket and in his rigid fingers he held
+the key to his home—and hers.
+
+At the bottom of the steps he halted. The lights in the drawing-room had
+been switched on. The purpose that filled him now was so great that he
+waited long there, grasping the hand rail, striving to temper his new-
+found strength to the gentleness that was in his heart. The fight was
+over, and he had won—the man of him had won. She was in that room where
+the lights were,—waiting for him. The moment was not far off when she
+would be in his arms. He was suffocating with the thought of the nearness
+of it all!
+
+He mounted the steps. As he came to the top, the door was opened and Anne
+stood there in the warm light of the hall,—a slender, swaying figure in
+something rose-coloured and—and her lips were parted in a wondering,
+enchanted smile. She held out her arms to him.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards.
+2. Frontispiece relocated after copyright page.
+3. Table of Contents added.
+4. Typographic errors corrected in original:
+   p. 102 heared to hearted ("loyal, warm-hearted, enduring creature")
+   p. 193 snovel to snivel ("choke and snivel softly")
+   p. 215 unforgetable to unforgettable ("that unforgettable day")
+   p. 439 "Her saw her" to "He saw her" ("He saw her come and go")
+   p. 440 possesion to possession ("possession of it was a liability")
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's From the Housetops, by George Barr McCutcheon
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diff --git a/18612-0.zip b/18612-0.zip
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+++ b/18612-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,14008 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of From the Housetops, by George Barr McCutcheon
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+Title: From the Housetops
+
+Author: George Barr McCutcheon
+
+Illustrator: F. Graham Cootes
+
+Release Date: June 17, 2006 [EBook #18612]
+Last updated: March 3, 2009
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FROM THE HOUSETOPS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE HOUSETOPS
+
+BY
+GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON
+
+Author of "Ghaustark," "The Hollow of Her Hand,"
+"The Prince of Graustark," etc.
+
+With Illustrations by
+F. GRAHAM COOTES
+
+
+
+
+Copyright, 1916
+By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC.
+_All rights reserved_
+Made in U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "Stop!" he cried eagerly. "Would you give up
+everything--everything, mind you,--if I were to ask you to do so?"]
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+========
+
+CHAPTER I                                       1
+CHAPTER II                                      9
+CHAPTER III                                    16
+CHAPTER IV                                     27
+CHAPTER V                                      39
+CHAPTER VI                                     57
+CHAPTER VII                                    76
+CHAPTER VIII                                   90
+CHAPTER IX                                    101
+CHAPTER X                                     120
+CHAPTER XI                                    137
+CHAPTER XII                                   155
+CHAPTER XIII                                  169
+CHAPTER XIV                                   185
+CHAPTER XV                                    197
+CHAPTER XVI                                   213
+CHAPTER XVII                                  230
+CHAPTER XVIII                                 247
+CHAPTER XIX                                   260
+CHAPTER XX                                    273
+CHAPTER XXI                                   292
+CHAPTER XXII                                  310
+CHAPTER XXIII                                 329
+CHAPTER XXIV                                  345
+CHAPTER XXV                                   359
+CHAPTER XXVI                                  376
+CHAPTER XXVII                                 391
+CHAPTER XXVIII                                405
+CHAPTER XXIX                                  421
+CHAPTER XXX                                   431
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE HOUSETOPS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Mr. Templeton Thorpe was soon to be married for the second time. Back in
+1860 he married a girl of twenty-two, and now in the year 1912 he was
+taking unto himself another girl of twenty-two. In the interim he had
+achieved a grandson whose years were twenty-nine. In his seventy-seventh
+year he was worth a great many millions of dollars, and for that and no
+other reason perhaps, one of the newspapers, in commenting on the
+approaching nuptials, declared that nobody could now deny that he was a
+philanthropist.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I daresay you are right, Mrs. Tresslyn," said old Templeton Thorpe's
+grandson, bitterly. "He hasn't many more years to live."
+
+The woman in the chair started, her eyes narrowing. The flush deepened in
+her cheeks. It had been faint before and steady, but now it was ominous.
+
+"I fear you are again putting words into my mouth," she said coldly. "Have
+I made any such statement?"
+
+"I did not say that you had, Mrs. Tresslyn," said the young man. "I merely
+observed that you were right. It isn't necessary to put the perfectly
+obvious into words. He is a very old man, so you are right in believing
+that he hasn't many years left to live. Nearly four times the age of
+Anne,--that's how old he is,--and time flies very swiftly for him."
+
+"I must again remind you that you are in danger of becoming offensive,
+Braden. Be good enough to remember that this interview is not of my
+choosing. I consented to receive you in--"
+
+"You knew it was inevitable--this interview, as you call it. You knew I
+would come here to denounce this damnable transaction. I have nothing to
+apologise for, Mrs. Tresslyn. This is not the time for apologies. You may
+order me to leave your house, but I don't believe you will find any
+satisfaction in doing so. You would still know that I have a right to
+protest against this unspeakable marriage, even though it should mean
+nothing more to me than the desire to protect a senile old man against
+the--"
+
+"Your grandfather is the last man in the world to be described as senile,"
+she broke in, with a thin smile.
+
+"I could have agreed with you a month ago, but not now," said he savagely.
+
+"Perhaps you would better go now, Braden," said she, arising. She was a
+tall, handsome woman, well under fifty. As she faced her visitor, her
+cold, unfriendly eyes were almost on a level with his own. The look she
+gave him would have caused a less determined man to quail. It was her way
+of closing an argument, no matter whether it was with her butcher, her
+grocer, of the bishop himself. Such a look is best described as imperious,
+although one less reserved than I but perhaps more potently metaphorical
+would say that she simply looked a hole through you, seeing beyond you as
+if you were not there at all. She had found it especially efficacious in
+dealing with the butcher and even the bishop, to say nothing of the effect
+it always had upon the commonplace nobodies who go to the butcher and the
+bishop for the luxuries of both the present and the future life, and it
+had seldom failed to wither and blight the most hardy of masculine
+opponents. It was not always so effective in crushing the members of her
+own sex, for there were women in New York society who could look straight
+through Mrs. Tresslyn without even appearing to suspect that she was in
+the range of vision. She had been known, however, to stare an English duke
+out of countenance, and it was a long time before she forgave herself for
+doing so. It would appear that it is not the proper thing to do. Crushing
+the possessor of a title is permissible only among taxi-drivers and
+gentlemen whose daughters are already married.
+
+Her stony look did not go far toward intimidating young Mr. Thorpe. He was
+a rather sturdy, athletic looking fellow with a firm chin and a well-set
+jaw, and a pair of grey eyes that were not in the habit of wavering.
+
+"I came here to see Anne," he said, a stubborn expression settling in his
+face. "Is she afraid to see me, or is she obeying orders from you, Mrs.
+Tresslyn?"
+
+"She doesn't care to see you," said Mrs. Tresslyn. "That's all there is to
+be said about it, Braden."
+
+"So far as I am concerned, she is still engaged to me. She hasn't broken
+it off by word or letter. If you don't mind, I'd like to have it broken
+off in the regular way. It doesn't seem quite proper for her to remain
+engaged to me right up to the instant she marries my grandfather. Or is it
+possible that she intends to remain bound to me during the lifetime of my
+grandparent, with the idea of holding me to my bargain when he is gone?"
+
+"Don't be ridiculous," was all that Mrs. Tresslyn said in response to this
+sarcasm, but she said it scathingly.
+
+For a full minute they stood looking into each other's eyes, each
+appraising the other, one offensively, the other defensively. She had the
+advantage of him, for she was prepared to defend herself while he was in
+the position of one who attacks without strategy and leaps from one
+exposed spot to another. It was to her advantage that she knew that he
+despised her; it was to his disadvantage that he knew she had always liked
+him after a manner of her own, and doubtless liked him now despite the
+things he had said to her. She had liked him from his boyhood days when
+report had it that he was to be the sole heir to his grandfather's
+millions, and she had liked him, no doubt, quite as sincerely, after the
+old man had declared that he did not intend to ruin a brilliant career by
+leaving a lot of uninspiring money to his ambitious grandson.
+
+In so many words, old Templeton Thorpe had said, not two months before,
+that he intended to leave practically all of his money to charity! All
+except the two millions he stood ready to settle upon his bride the day
+she married him! Possibly Mrs. Tresslyn liked the grandson all the more
+for the treasures that he had lost, or was about to lose. It is easy to
+like a man who will not be pitied. At any rate, she did not consider it
+worth while to despise him, now that he had only a profession to offer in
+exchange for her daughter's hand.
+
+"Of course, Mrs. Tresslyn, I know that Anne loves me," he said, with
+forced calmness. "She doesn't love my grandfather. That isn't even
+debatable. I fear that I am the only person in the world who does love
+him. I suspect, too, that if he loves any one, I am that one. If you think
+that he is fool enough to believe that Anne loves him, you are vastly
+mistaken. He knows perfectly well that she doesn't, and, by gad, he
+doesn't blame her. He understands. That's why he sits there at home and
+chuckles. I hope you will not mind my saying to you that he considers me a
+very lucky person."
+
+"Lucky?" said she, momentarily off her guard.
+
+"If you care to hear exactly how he puts it, he says I'm _damned_ lucky,
+Mrs. Tresslyn. Of course, you are not to assume that I agree with him. If
+I thought all this was Anne's doing and not yours, I should say that I am
+lucky, but I can't believe--good heavens, I will not believe that she could
+do such a thing! A young, beautiful, happy girl voluntarily--oh, it is
+unspeakable! She is being driven into it, she is being sacrificed to--"
+
+"Just one moment, Braden," interrupted Mrs. Tresslyn, curtly. "I may as
+well set you quite straight in the matter. It will save time and put an
+end to recriminations. My daughter does not care the snap of her fingers
+for Mr. Thorpe. I think she loves you quite as dearly now as she ever did.
+At any rate, she says she does. But that is neither here nor there. She is
+going to marry Mr. Thorpe, and of her own volition. I have advised her to
+do so, I will admit, but I have not driven her to it, as you say. No one
+but a fool would expect her to love that old man. He doesn't ask it of
+her. He simply asks her to marry him. Nowadays people do not always marry
+for love. In fact, they frequently marry to avoid it--at least for the time
+being. Your grandfather has told you of the marriage settlement. It is to
+be two million dollars, set apart for her, to be hers in full right on the
+day that he dies. We are far from rich, Anne and I. My husband was a
+failure--but you know our circumstances quite well enough without my going
+into them. My daughter is her own mistress. She is twenty-three. She is
+able to choose for herself. It pleases her to choose the grandfather
+instead of the grandson. Is that perfectly plain to you? If it is, my boy,
+then I submit that there is nothing further to be said. The situation is
+surely clear enough for even you to see. We do not pretend to be doing
+anything noble. Mr. Thorpe is seventy-seven. That is the long and short of
+it."
+
+"In plain English, it's the money you are after," said he, with a sneer.
+
+"Obviously," said she, with the utmost candour. "Young women of twenty-
+three do not marry old men of seventy-seven for love. You may imagine a
+young girl marrying a penniless youth for love, but can you picture her
+marrying a penniless octogenarian for the same reason? I fancy not. I
+speak quite frankly to you, Braden, and without reserve. We have always
+been friends. It would be folly to attempt to delude you into believing
+that a sentimental motive is back of our--shall we say enterprise?"
+
+"Yes, that is what I would call it," said he levelly. "It is a more
+refined word than scheme."
+
+"The world will be grateful for the opportunity to bear me out in all that
+I have said to you," she went on. "It will cheerfully, even gleefully
+supply any of the little details I may have considered unnecessary or
+superfluous in describing the situation. You are at liberty, then, to go
+forth and assist in the castigation. You have my permission,--and Anne's, I
+may add,--to say to the world that I have told you plainly why this
+marriage is to take place. It is no secret. It isn't improbable that your
+grandfather will consent to back you up in your denunciation. He is that
+kind of a man. He has no illusions. Permit me to remind you, therefore,
+that neither you nor the world is to take it for granted that we are
+hoodwinking Mr. Thorpe. Have I made myself quite clear to you, Braden?"
+
+The young man drew a deep breath. His tense figure relaxed. "I did not
+know there were such women in the world as you, Mrs. Tresslyn. There were
+heartless, soulless women among the Borgias and the Medicis, but they
+lived in an age of intrigue. Their acts were mildly innocuous when
+compared with--"
+
+"I must ask you to remember that you are in my home, Braden," she
+interrupted, her eyes ablaze.
+
+"Oh, I remember where I am, perfectly," he cried. "It was in this very
+room that Anne promised to become my wife. It was here that you gave your
+consent, less than a year ago."
+
+He had been pacing the floor, back and forth across the space in front of
+the fireplace, in which logs were blazing on this raw February afternoon.
+Now he stopped once more to face her resolutely.
+
+"I insist that it is my right to see Anne," he said. His eyes were
+bloodshot, his cheek pallid. "I must hear from her own lips that she no
+longer considers herself bound to me by the promise made a year ago. I
+demand that much of her. She owes it to me, if not to herself, to put an
+end to the farce before she turns to tragedy. I don't believe she
+appreciates the wickedness of the thing she is about to do. I insist that
+it is my right to speak with her, to urge her to reconsider, to point out
+to her the horrors of--"
+
+"She will not see you, Braden," broke in the mother, finality in her
+voice.
+
+"She _must_ see me," he shouted. "If not to-day, to-morrow; if not then,
+some other day, for, by the Eternal, Mrs. Tresslyn, I intend to speak with
+her if I have to wait until the accursed day you have selected,--at the
+very altar, if necessary. She shall not go into this thing until she has
+had the final word with me, and I with her. She does not know what she is
+doing. She is carried away by the thought of all that money--Money! Good
+God, Mrs. Tresslyn, she has told me a hundred times that she would marry
+me if I were as poor as the raggedest beggar in the streets. She loves me,
+she cannot play this vile trick on me. Her heart is pure. You cannot make
+me believe that she isn't honest and fair and loyal. I tell you now, once
+and for all, that I will not stand idly by and see this vile sacrifice
+made in order to--"
+
+"Rawson," interrupted Mrs. Tresslyn, looking beyond him in the direction
+of the door, "Doctor Thorpe is going. Will you give him his hat and coat?"
+She had pressed a button beside the mantelpiece, and in response to the
+call, the butler stood in the doorway. "Good day, Braden. I am sorry that
+Anne is unable to see you to-day. She--"
+
+"Good day, Mrs. Tresslyn," he choked out, controlling himself with an
+effort. "Will you tell her that I shall call to-morrow?"
+
+She smiled. "When do you expect to return to London? I had hoped to have
+you stay until after the wedding."
+
+His smile was more of an effort than hers. "Thanks. My grandfather has
+expressed the same hope. He says the affair will not be complete without
+my presence at the feast. To-morrow, at this hour, I shall come to see
+Anne. Thank you, Rawson."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+His gaze swept the long, luxurious drawing-room, now filled with the
+shadows of late afternoon. A sigh that ended in an unvoiced imprecation
+escaped him. There was not an object in the room that did not possess for
+him a peculiar claim of intimacy. Here he had dreamed of paradise with
+Anne, and here he had built upon his hopes,--a staunch future that demanded
+little of the imagination. He could never forget this room and all that it
+had held for him.
+
+But now, in that brief, swift glance, he found himself estimating the cost
+of all the treasures that it contained, and the price that was to be paid
+in order that they might not be threatened. These things represented
+greed. They had always represented greed. They had been saved out of the
+wreck that befell the Tresslyn fortunes when Anne was a young girl
+entering her teens, the wreck that destroyed Arthur Tresslyn and left his
+widow with barely enough to sustain herself and children through the years
+that intervened between the then and the now.
+
+He recalled that after the wreck had been cleared up, Mrs. Tresslyn had a
+paltry twenty-five thousand a year on which to maintain the house that,
+fortuitously, had been in her name at the time of the smash. A paltry sum
+indeed! Barely enough to feed and clothe one hundred less exacting
+families for a year; families, however, with wheelbarrows instead of
+automobiles, and with children instead of servants.
+
+Ten years had elapsed since the death of Arthur Tresslyn, and still the
+house in the east Seventies held itself above water by means of that
+meagre two thousand a month! These rare, almost priceless objects upon
+which he now gazed had weathered the storm, proof against the temptations
+that beset an owner embarrassed by their richness; they had maintained a
+smug relationship to harmony in spite of the jangling of discordant
+instruments, such as writs and attachments and the wails of insufferable
+creditors who made the usual mistake of thinking that a man's home is his
+castle and therefore an object of reprisal. The splendid porcelains, the
+incomparable tapestries and the small but exquisite paintings remained
+where they had been placed by the amiable but futile Arthur, and all the
+king's men and all the king's horses could not have removed them without
+Mrs. Tresslyn's sanction. The mistress of the house subsisted as best she
+could on the pitiful income from a sequestered half-million, and lived in
+splendour among objects that deluded even the richest and most arrogant of
+her friends into believing that nothing was more remote from her
+understanding than the word poverty, or the equally disgusting word
+thrift.
+
+Here he had come to children's parties in days when he was a lad and Anne
+a child of twelve, and here he had always been a welcome visitor and
+playmate, even to the end of his college years. The motherless, fatherless
+grandson of old Templeton Thorpe was cherished among heirlooms that never
+had had a price put upon them. Of all the boys who came to the Tresslyn
+house, young Braden Thorpe was the heir with the most potent possibility.
+He did not know it then, but now he knew that on the occasion of his
+smashing a magnificent porcelain vase the forgiving kiss that Mrs.
+Tresslyn bestowed upon his flaming cheek was not due to pity but to
+farsightedness. Somehow he now felt that he could smash every fragile and
+inanimate thing in sight, and still escape the kiss.
+
+Not the least regal and imposing object in the room was the woman who
+stood beside the fireplace, smiling as she always smiled when a situation
+was at its worst and she at her best. Her high-bred, aristocratic face was
+as insensitive to an inward softness as a chiseled block of marble is to
+the eye that gazes upon it in rapt admiration. She had trained herself to
+smile in the face of the disagreeable; she had acquired the _art_ of
+tranquillity. This long anticipated interview with her daughter's cast-
+off, bewildered lover was inevitable. They had known that he would come,
+insistent. She had not kept him waiting. When he came to the house the day
+after his arrival from England, following close upon a cablegram sent the
+day after the news of Anne's defection had struck him like a thunderbolt,
+she was ready to receive him.
+
+And now, quite as calmly and indifferently, she was ready to say good-bye
+to him forever,--to this man who until a fortnight before had considered
+himself, and rightly too, to be the affianced husband of her daughter. He
+meant nothing to her. Her world was complete without him. He possessed her
+daughter's love,--and all the love she would ever know perhaps,--but even
+that did not produce within her the slightest qualm. Doubtless Anne would
+go on loving him to the end of her days. It is the prerogative of women
+who do not marry for love; it is their right to love the men they do not
+marry provided they honour the men they do, and keep their skirts clear
+besides.
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn felt, and honestly too, that her own assurances that Anne
+loved him would be quite as satisfactory as if Anne were to utter them
+herself. It all came to the same thing, and she had an idea that she could
+manage the situation more ably than her daughter.
+
+And Mrs. Tresslyn was quite sure that it would come out all right in the
+end. She hadn't the remotest doubt that Anne could marry Braden later on,
+if she cared to do so, and if nothing better offered; so what was there to
+worry about? Things always shape themselves after the easiest possible
+fashion. It wasn't as if she was marrying a young man with money. Mrs.
+Tresslyn had seen things shape themselves before. Moreover, she rather
+hated the thought of being a grandmother before she was fifty. And so it
+was really a pleasure to turn this possible son-in-law out of her house
+just at this time. It would be a very simple matter to open the door to
+him later on and invite him in.
+
+She stood beside her hearth and watched him go with a calm and far from
+uneasy eye. He would come again to-morrow, perhaps,--but even at his worst
+he could not be a dangerous visitor. He was a gentleman. He was a bit
+distressed. Gentlemen are often put to the test, and they invariably
+remain gentlemen.
+
+He stopped at the door. "Will you tell Anne that I'll be here to-morrow,
+Mrs. Tresslyn?"
+
+"I shall tell her, of course," said Mrs. Tresslyn, and lifted her lorgnon.
+
+He went out, filled to the throat with rage and resentment. His strong
+body was bent as if against a gale, and his hands were tightly clenched in
+his overcoat pockets. In his haste to get away from the house, he had
+fairly flung himself into the ulster that Rawson held for him, and the
+collar of his coat showed high above the collar of the greatcoat,--a most
+unusual lapse from orderliness on the part of this always careful dresser.
+
+He was returning to his grandfather's house. Old Templeton Thorpe would be
+waiting there for him, and Mr. Thorpe's man would be standing outside the
+library door as was his practice when his master was within, and there
+would be a sly, patient smile on the servant's lips but not in his sombre
+eyes. He was returning to his grandfather's house because he had promised
+to come back and tell the old man how he had fared at the home of his
+betrothed. The old man had said to him earlier in the afternoon that he
+would know more about women than he'd ever known before by the time his
+interview was over, and had drily added that the world was full to
+overflowing of good women who had not married the men they
+loved,--principally, he was just enough to explain, because the men they
+loved preferred to marry other women.
+
+Braden had left him seated in the library after a stormy half-hour; and as
+he rushed from the room, he found Mr. Thorpe's man standing in the hall
+outside the door, just as he always stood, waiting for orders with the
+sly, patient smile on his lips.
+
+For sixty years Templeton Thorpe had lived in the house near Washington
+Square, and for thirty-two of them Wade had been within sound of his
+voice, no matter how softly he called. The master never rang a bell, night
+or day. He did not employ Wade to answer bells. The butler could do that,
+or the parlour-maid, if the former happened to be tipsier than usual. Wade
+always kept his head cocked a little to one side, in the attitude of one
+listening, and so long had he been at it that it is doubtful if he could
+have cocked it the other way without snapping something in his neck. That
+right ear of his was open for business twenty-four hours out of the day.
+The rest of his body may have slept as soundly as any man's, but his ear
+was always awake, on land or sea. It was his boast that he had never had a
+vacation.
+
+Braden, after his long ride down Fifth Avenue on the stage, found Wade in
+the hall.
+
+"Is my grandfather in the library, Wade?" he asked, surprised to find the
+man at the foot of the stairs, quite a distance from his accustomed post.
+
+"He is, sir," said Wade. "He asked me to wait here until you arrived and
+then to go upstairs for a little while, sir. I fancy he has something to
+say to you in private." Which was a naïve way of explaining that Mr.
+Thorpe did not want him to have his ear cocked in the hall during the
+conversation that was to be resumed after an advisable interval. Observing
+the strange pallor in the young man's usually ruddy face, he solicitously
+added: "Shall I get you a glass of--ahem!--spirits, sir? A snack of brandy
+is a handy thing to--"
+
+"No, thank you, Wade. You forget that I am a doctor. I never take
+medicine," said Braden, forcing a smile.
+
+"A very good idea, sir," said Wade.
+
+Meanwhile, Mrs. Tresslyn had reported to Anne, in the cosy little boudoir
+at the top of the house in the Seventies.
+
+"It is just as well that you insisted on me seeing him, dear," she said on
+entering the room. "He would have said things to you that you could not
+have forgiven. As it is, you have nothing to forgive, and you have saved
+yourself a good many tears. He--but, my dear, what's this? Have you been
+crying?"
+
+Anne, tall and slender, stood with her back to the window, her exquisite
+face in the shadows. Even in the dim, colourless light of the waning day,
+she was lovely--lovely even with the wet cheeks and the drooped, whimpering
+lips.
+
+"What did he say, mother?" she asked, her voice hushed and broken. "How
+did he look?" Her head was bent and she looked at her mother from beneath
+pain-contracted brows. "Was he angry? Was he desperate? Did--did he say
+that he--that he loved me?"
+
+"He looked very well, he was angry, he was desperate and he said that he
+loved you," replied Mrs. Tresslyn, with the utmost composure. "So dry your
+eyes. He did just what was to have been expected of him, and just what you
+counted upon. He--"
+
+"He honestly, truly said that he loved me?" cried the girl, lifting her
+head and drawing a deep breath.
+
+"Yes,--truly."
+
+Anne dried her eyes with a fresh bit of lace.
+
+"Sit down, mother, and tell me all about it," she said, jerking a small
+chair around so that it faced the couch. Then she threw herself upon the
+latter and, reaching out with a slender foot, drew the chair closer. "Sit
+up close, and let's hear what my future grandson had to say."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Braden Thorpe had spent two years in the New York hospitals, after
+graduation from Johns Hopkins, and had been sent to Germany and Austria by
+his grandfather when he was twenty-seven, to work under the advanced
+scientists of Vienna and Berlin. At twenty-nine he came back to New York,
+a serious-minded, purposeful man, wrapped up in his profession and
+heterodoxically humane, to use the words of his grandfather. The first day
+after his return he confided to his grim old relative the somewhat
+unprofessional opinion that hopelessly afflicted members of the human race
+should be put out of their misery by attending physicians, operating under
+the direction of a commission appointed to consider such cases, and that
+the act should be authorised by law!
+
+His grandfather, being seventy-six and apparently as healthy as any one
+could hope to be at that age, said that he thought it would be just as
+well to kill 'em legally as any other way, having no good opinion of
+doctors, and admitted that his grandson had an exceptionally soft heart in
+him even though his head was a trifle harder and thicker than was
+necessary in one so young.
+
+"It's worth thinking about, anyhow, isn't it, granddaddy?" Braden had
+said, with great earnestness.
+
+"It is, my boy," said Templeton Thorpe; "especially when you haven't got
+anything serious the matter with you."
+
+"But if you were hopelessly ill and suffering beyond all endurance you'd
+welcome death, wouldn't you?"
+
+"No, I wouldn't," said Mr. Thorpe promptly. "The only time I ever wanted
+to shuffle off was when your grandmother first refused to marry me. The
+second time she refused me I decided to do something almost but not quite
+so terrible, so I went West. The third time I proposed, she accepted me,
+and out of sheer joy I very stupidly got drunk. So, you see, there is
+always something to live for," he concluded, with his driest smile.
+
+"I am quite serious about it, grandfather," said Braden stiffly.
+
+"So I perceive. Well, you are planning to hang out your sign here in New
+York pretty soon, and you are going to become a licensed physician, the
+confrère and companion of a lot of distinguished gentlemen who believe
+just as you do about putting sufferers out of their misery but who
+wouldn't think of doing it, so I'd advise you to keep your opinions to
+yourself. What do you suppose I sent you abroad for, and gave you an
+education that few young men have received? Just to see you kicked out of
+your profession before you've fairly well put a foot into it, or a knife
+into a plutocrat, or a pill into a pauper? No, sirree, my boy. You sit
+tight and let the hangman do all the legal killing that has to be done."
+
+"Oh, I know perfectly well that if I advanced this theory,--or scheme,--at
+present, I'd be kicked out of the profession, notwithstanding the fact
+that it has all been discussed a million times by doctors in every part of
+the world. I can't help having the feeling that it would be a great and
+humane thing--"
+
+"Quite so," broke in the old man, "but let us talk of something else."
+
+A month later Braden came to him and announced that he and Anne Tresslyn
+were betrothed. They had known each other for years, and from the time
+that Anne was seventeen Braden had loved her. He had been a quiet, rather
+shy boy, and she a gay, self-possessed creature whose outlook upon life
+was so far advanced beyond his, even in those days of adolescence, that he
+looked upon her as the eighth wonder of the world. She had poise, manner,
+worldly wisdom of a pleasantly superficial character that stood for
+sophistication in his blissful estimate of her advantages over him, and
+she was so adroit in the art of putting her finger upon the right spot at
+precisely the right moment that he found himself wondering if he could
+ever bring himself up to her insuperable level.
+
+And when he came home after the two years in Europe, filled with great
+thoughts and vast pretentions of a singularly unromantic nature, he found
+her so much lovelier than before that where once he had shyly coveted he
+now desired with a fervour that swept him headlong into a panic of dread
+lest he had waited too long and that he had irretrievably lost her while
+engaged in the wretchedly mundane and commonplace pursuit of trifles. He
+was intensely amazed, therefore, to discover that she had loved him ever
+since she was a child in short frocks. He expected her to believe him when
+he said to her that she was the loveliest of all God's creatures, but it
+was more than he could believe when she declared that he was as handsome
+as a Greek god. That, of course, to him was a ludicrous thing to say, a
+delusion, a fancy that could not be explained, and yet he had seen himself
+in a mirror a dozen times a day, perhaps, without even suspecting, in his
+simplicity, that he was an extremely good-looking chap and well worth a
+second glance from any one except himself.
+
+The announcement did not come as a surprise to old Mr. Thorpe. He had been
+expecting it. He realised that Braden's dilatory tactics alone were
+accountable for the delay in bringing the issue to a head.
+
+"And when do you expect to be married?" he had inquired, squinting at his
+grandson in a somewhat dubious manner.
+
+"Within the year, I hope," said Braden. "Of course, I shall have to get a
+bit of a start before we can think of getting married."
+
+"A bit of a start, eh? Expect to get enough of a practice in a year to
+keep Anne going, do you?"
+
+"We shall live very economically."
+
+"Is that your idea or hers?"
+
+"She knows that I have but little more than two thousand a year, but, of
+course, it won't take much of a practice to add something to that, you
+know."
+
+"Besides, you can always depend upon me to help you out, Braden,--that is,
+within reason," said the other, watching him narrowly out of his shrewd
+old eyes.
+
+Braden flushed. "You have done more than enough for me already,
+grandfather. I can't take anything more, you see. I'm going to fight my
+own way now, sir."
+
+"I see," said Mr. Thorpe. "That's the way to talk, my boy. And what does
+Anne say to that?"
+
+"She thinks just as I do about it. Oh, she's the right sort, granddaddy,
+so you needn't worry about us, once we are married."
+
+"Perhaps I should have asked what her mother has to say about it."
+
+"Well, she gave us her blessing," said his grandson, with a happy grin.
+
+"After she had heard about your plan to live on the results of your
+practice?"
+
+"She said she wasn't going to worry about that, sir. If Anne was willing
+to wait, so was she."
+
+"Wait for what?"
+
+"My practice to pick up, of course. What do you mean?"
+
+"Just that, of course," said the old man quickly. "Well, my boy, while I
+daresay it isn't really necessary, I give my consent. I am sure you and
+Anne will be very happy in your cosy little five-room flat, and that she
+will be a great help to you. You may even attain to quite a fashionable
+practice,--or clientele, which is it?--through the Tresslyn position in the
+city. Thousand dollar appendicitis operations ought to be quite common
+with you from the outset, with Anne to talk you up a bit among the people
+who belong to her set and who are always looking for something to keep
+them from being bored to death. I understand that anybody who has an
+appendix nowadays is looked upon as exceedingly vulgar and is not even
+tolerated in good society. As for a man having a sound liver,--well, that
+kind of a liver is absolutely inexcusable. Nobody has one to-day if he can
+afford to have the other kind. Good livers always have livers,--and so do
+bad livers, for that matter. But, now, let us return to the heart. You are
+quite sure that Anne loves you better than she loves herself? That's quite
+important, you know. I have found that people who say that they love some
+one better than anybody else in the world, usually forget themselves,--that
+is to say, they overlook themselves. How about Anne?"
+
+"Rather epigrammatic, aren't you, granddaddy? I have Anne's word for it,
+that's all. She wouldn't marry me if she loved any one more than she does
+me,--not even herself, as you put it. I am sure if I were Anne I should
+love myself better than all the rest of the world."
+
+"A very pretty speech, my boy. You should make an exceptionally
+fashionable doctor. You will pardon me for appearing to be cynical, but
+you see I am a very old man and somewhat warped,--bent, you might say, in
+my attitude toward the tender passion as it is practised to-day. Still, I
+shall take your word for it. Anne loves you devotedly, and you love her.
+The only thing necessary, therefore, is a professional practice, or, in
+other words, a practical profession. I am sure you will achieve both. You
+have my best wishes. I love you, my boy. You are the only thing left in
+life for me to love. Your father was my only son. He would have been a
+great man, I am sure, if he had not been my son. I spoiled him. I think
+that is the reason why he died so young. Now, my dear grandson, I am not
+going to make the mistake with his son that I made with my own. I intend
+that you shall fight your own battles. Among other things, you will have
+to fight pretty hard for Anne. That is a mere detail, of course. You are a
+resolute, determined, sincere fellow, Braden, and you have in you the
+making of a splendid character. You will succeed in anything you
+undertake. I like your eye, my boy, and I like the set of your jaw. You
+have principle and you have a sense of reverence that is quite uncommon in
+these days of ours. I daresay you have been wicked in an essential sort of
+way, and I fancy you have been just as necessarily honourable. I don't
+like a mollycoddle. I don't like anything invertebrate. I despise a
+Christian who doesn't understand Christ. Christ despised sin but he didn't
+despise sinners. And that brings us back to Mrs. Tresslyn,--Constance Blair
+that was. You will have to be exceedingly well fortified, my boy, if you
+expect to withstand the clever Constance. She is the refinement of
+maternal ambition. She will not be satisfied to have her daughter married
+to a mere practice. She didn't bring her up for that. She will ask me to
+come and see her within the next few days. What am I to say to her when
+she asks me if I expect you and Anne to live on what you can earn out of
+your ridiculous profession?"
+
+"I think that's all pretty well understood," said Braden easily. "You do
+Mrs. Tresslyn an injustice, granddaddy. She says it will be a splendid
+thing for Anne to struggle along as we shall have to do for a while.
+Character building, is the way she puts it."
+
+"Just the same, I shall expect a message from her before the engagement is
+announced," said the old man drily.
+
+A hard glitter had come into his eyes. He loved this good-looking, earnest
+grandson of his, and he was troubled. He lay awake half the night thinking
+over this piece of not unexpected news.
+
+The next morning at breakfast he said to Braden: "See here, my boy, you
+spoke to me recently about your desire to spend a year in and about the
+London hospitals before settling down to the real business of life. I've
+been thinking it over. You can't very well afford to pay for these
+finishing touches after you've begun struggling along on your own hook,
+and trying to make both ends meet on a slender income, so I'd suggest that
+you take this next year as a gift from me and spend it on the other side,
+working with my good friend, Sir George Bascombe, the greatest of all the
+English surgeons. I don't believe you will ever regret it."
+
+Braden was overjoyed. "I should like nothing better, grandfather. By jove,
+you are good to me. You--"
+
+"It is only right and just that I should give to the last of my race the
+chance to be a credit to it." There was something cryptic in the remark,
+but naturally it escaped Braden's notice. "You are the only one of the
+Thorpes left, my boy. I was an only son and, strange as it may appear, I
+was singularly without avuncular relatives. It is not surprising,
+therefore, that I should desire to make a great man out of you. You shall
+not be handicapped by any failure on my part to do the right thing by you.
+If it is in my power to safeguard you, it is my duty to exercise that
+power. Nothing must be allowed to stand in the way or to obstruct your
+progress. Nothing must be allowed to check your ambition or destroy your
+courage. So, if you please, I think you ought to have this chance to work
+with Bascombe. A year is a short time to a chap of your age and
+experience, and it may be the most valuable one in a long and successful
+life."
+
+"If I can ever grow to be half as wise and half as successful as you,
+grandfather, I shall have achieved more than--"
+
+"My boy, I inherited my success and I've been more of a fool than you
+suspect. My father left me with two or three millions of dollars, and the
+little wisdom that I have acquired I would pass on to you instead of money
+if it were possible to do so. A man cannot bequeath his wisdom. He may
+inherit it, but he can't give it away, for the simple reason that no one
+will take it as a gift. It is like advice to the young: something to
+disregard. My father left me a great deal of money, and I was too much of
+a coward to become a failure. Only the brave men are failures. They are
+the ones who take the risks. If you are going to be a surgeon, be a great
+one. Now, when do you think you can go to London?"
+
+Braden, his face aglow, was not long in answering. "I'll speak to Anne
+about it to-night. If she is willing to marry me at once, we'll start
+immediately. By Jove, sir, it is wonderful! It is the greatest thing that
+ever happened to a fellow. I--"
+
+"Ah, but I'm afraid that doesn't fit in with my plan," interrupted the old
+man, knitting his brows. "It is my idea that you should devote yourself to
+observation and not to experimentation,--to study instead of honeymooning.
+A bride is out of the question, Braden. This is to be my year and not
+Anne's."
+
+They were a week thrashing it out, and in the end it was Mrs. Tresslyn who
+settled the matter. She had had her talk with Mr. Templeton Thorpe, and,
+after hearing all that he had to say, expressed herself in no uncertain
+terms on the advisability of postponing the wedding for a year if not
+longer. Something she said in private to Anne appeared to have altered
+that charming young person's notions in regard to an early wedding, so
+Braden found himself without an ally. He went to London early in the fall,
+with Anne's promises safely stowed away in his heart, and he came back in
+the middle of his year with Sir George, dazed and bewildered by her
+faithlessness and his grandfather's perfidy.
+
+Out of a clear sky had come the thunderbolt. And then, while he was still
+dazed and furious, his grandfather had tried to convince him that he had
+done him a deuce of a good turn in showing up Anne Tresslyn!
+
+In patience the old man had listened to his grandson's tirade, his
+ravings, his anathemas. He had heard himself called a traitor. He had
+smiled grimly on being described as a satyr! When words and breath at last
+failed the stalwart Braden, the old gentleman, looking keenly out from
+beneath his shaggy brows, and without the slightest trace of resentment in
+his manner, suggested that they leave the matter to Anne.
+
+"If she really wants you, my boy, she'll chuck me and my two-million-
+dollar purse out of the window, so to speak, and she'll marry you in spite
+of your poverty. If she does that, I'll be satisfied. I'll step down and
+out and I'll praise God for his latest miracle. If she looks at it from
+the other point of view,--the perfectly safe and secure way, you
+understand,--and confirms her allegiance to me, I'll still be exceedingly
+happy in the consciousness that I've done you a good turn. I will enter my
+extreme old age in the race against your healthy youth. I will proffer my
+three or four remaining years to her as against the fifty you may be able
+to give her. Go and see her at once. Then come back here to me and tell me
+what she says."
+
+And so it was that Braden Thorpe returned, as he had agreed to do, to the
+home of the man who had robbed him of his greatest possession,--faith in
+woman. He found his grandfather seated in the library, in front of a half-
+dead fire. A word, in passing, to describe this remarkable old man. He was
+tall and thin, and strangely erect for one of his years. His gaunt, seamed
+face was beardless and almost repellent in its severity. In his deep-set,
+piercing eyes lurked all the pains of a lifetime. He had been a strong,
+robust man; the framework was all that remained of the staunch house in
+which his being had dwelt for so long. His hand shook and his knee
+rebelled against exertion, but his eye was unwavering, his chin
+unflinching. White and sparse was the thatch of hair upon his shrunken
+skull, and harsh was the thin voice that came from his straight,
+colourless lips. He walked with a cane, and seldom without the patient,
+much-berated Wade at his elbow, a prop against the dreaded day when his
+legs would go back on him and the brink would appear abruptly out of
+nowhere at his very feet. And there were times when he put his hand to his
+side and held it there till the look of pain softened about his mouth and
+eyes, though never quite disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+It was Templeton Thorpe's contention that Braden was a family investment,
+and that a good investment will take care of itself if properly handled.
+He considered himself quite capable of making a man of Braden, but he did
+not allow the boy to think that the job was a one-sided undertaking.
+Braden worked for all that he received. There was no silver platter, no
+golden spoon in Mr. Thorpe's cupboard. They understood each other
+perfectly and Templeton Thorpe was satisfied with his investment.
+
+That is why his eyes twinkled when Braden burst into the library after his
+fruitless appeal to Mrs. Tresslyn. He smiled as one smiles with relief
+when a craft he is watching glides safely but narrowly past a projecting
+abutment.
+
+"Calm yourself," he remarked after Braden's somewhat wild and incoherent
+beginning. "And sit down. You will not get anywhere pacing this twenty by
+thirty room, and you are liable to run into something immovable if you
+don't stop glaring at me and watch out where you are going instead."
+
+"Sit down?" shouted Braden, stopping before the old man in the chair, his
+hands clinched and his teeth showing. "I'll never sit down in your house
+again! What do you think I am? A snivelling, cringing dog that has to lick
+your hand for--"
+
+"Now, now!" admonished the old man, without anger. "If you will not sit
+down, at least be kind enough to stand still. I can't understand half you
+say while you are stamping around like that. This isn't a china shop.
+Control yourself. Now, let's have it in so many words and not so many
+gesticulations. So Anne declined to see you, eh?"
+
+"I don't believe Anne had a voice in the matter. Mrs. Tresslyn is at the
+back of all this. She is the one who has roped you in,--duped you, or
+whatever you choose to call it without resorting to profanity. She's
+forcing Anne into this damnable marriage, and she is making a perfect fool
+of you. Can't you see it? Can't you see--but, my God, how can I ask that
+question of you? When a man gets to be as old as you, he--" He broke off
+abruptly, on the point of uttering the unforgivable.
+
+"Go on, my boy," said Templeton Thorpe quietly. "Say it. I shan't mind."
+
+"Oh, what's the use?" groaned the miserable lover. "I cannot say anything
+more to you, sir, than I said early this afternoon. I told you then just
+what I think of your treachery. There isn't anything more for me to say,
+but I'd like you to know that Anne despises you. Her mother acknowledges
+that much at least,--and, curse her, without shame!"
+
+"I am quite well aware of the fact, Braden," said the old man. "You
+couldn't expect her to love me, could you?"
+
+"Then, why in God's name are you marrying her? Why are you spoiling my
+life? Why are you--"
+
+"Is it spoiling your life to have the girl you love turn to and marry an
+old wreck such as I am, just because I happen to be willing to pay her two
+million dollars,--in advance, you might say? Is that spoiling your life or
+saving it?"
+
+Mr. Thorpe had dropped the cynical, half-amused air, and was now speaking
+with great intensity. Braden, struck by the change, turned suddenly to
+regard the old man with a new and puzzled light in his lowering eyes.
+
+"See here, my lad, you've had your chance. I knew what I was about when I
+sent you to see her. I knew precisely what would happen. She wants to
+marry you, but she prefers to marry me. That isn't as ambiguous as it
+sounds. Just think it over,--later on, not now, for I have something else
+to say to you. Do me the honour to be seated. Thank you. Now, you've got
+quite a good-sized, respectable nose upon your face. I submit that the
+situation is quite as plain as that nose, if you look at it in the broad
+light of understanding. If you think that I am marrying Anne because I
+love her, or because I am in my dotage and afflicted with senility, you
+are very much mistaken. If you think I am giving her two million dollars
+as a wedding gift because I expect it to purchase her love and esteem, you
+do my intelligence an injustice. If you think that I relish the prospect
+of having that girl in my house from now till the day I die, worrying the
+soul out of me, you are too simple for words. I am marrying her, not
+because I love her, my lad, but--but because I love _you_. God forbid that
+I should ever sink so low as to steal from my own flesh and blood.
+Stealing is one thing, bartering another. I expect to convince you that I
+have not taken anything from you that is of value, hence I am not a
+malefactor."
+
+Braden, seated opposite him, his elbows on the arms of the chair, leaned
+forward and watched the old man curiously. A new light had come into his
+eyes when Mr. Thorpe uttered those amazing words--"but because I love
+_you_." He was beginning to see, he was beginning to analyse the old man's
+motives, he was groping his way out of the fog.
+
+"You will have hard work to convince me that I have not been treated most
+unfairly, most vilely," said he, his lips still compressed.
+
+"Many years ago," said Mr. Thorpe, fixing his gaze on the lazy fire, "I
+asked Anne's grandmother to marry me. I suppose I thought that I was
+unalterably in love with her. I was the very rich son of a very rich man,
+and--pardon my conceit--what you would call an exceedingly good catch. Well,
+in those days things were not as they are now. The young lady, a great
+beauty and amazingly popular, happened to be in love with Roger Blair, a
+good-looking chap with no fortune and no prospects. She took the advice of
+her mother and married the man she loved, disdaining my riches and me as
+well. Roger wasn't much of a success as a husband, but he was a source of
+enlightenment and education to his wife. Not in the way you would suspect,
+however. He managed in very short order to convince her that it is a very
+ignorant mother who permits her daughter to marry a man without means.
+They hadn't been married three years when his wife had learned her lesson.
+It was too late to get rid of Roger, and by that time I was happily
+married to a girl who was quite as rich as I, and could afford to do as
+she pleased. So, you see, Anne's grandmother had to leave me out of the
+case, even though Roger would have been perfectly delighted to have given
+her sufficient grounds for divorce. I think you knew Anne's grandmother,
+Braden?" He paused for an answer, a sly, appraising look in his eyes.
+Receiving no response except a slight nod of the head, he chuckled softly
+and went on with the history.
+
+"Poor soul, she's gone to her reward. Now we come to Anne's mother. She
+was an only child,--and one was quite enough, I assure you. No mother ever
+had greater difficulty in satisfactorily placing a daughter than had Mrs.
+Blair. There was an army of young but not very dependable gentlemen who
+would have married her like a flash, notwithstanding her own poverty, had
+it not been for the fact that Mrs. Blair was so thoroughly educated by
+this time that she couldn't even contemplate a mistake in her
+calculations. She had had ample proof that love doesn't keep the wolf from
+the door, nor does it draw five per cent, as some other bonds do. She
+brought Constance up in what is now considered to be the most approved
+fashion in high society. The chap who had nothing but health and ambition
+and honour and brains to offer, in addition to that unprofitable thing
+called love, was a viper in Mrs. Blair's estimation. He was very properly
+and promptly stamped upon by the fond mother and doubtless was very glad
+to crawl off into the high grass, out of danger. He--"
+
+"What has all this got to do with your present behaviour?" demanded Braden
+harshly. "Speaking of vipers," he added, by way of comment.
+
+"I am coming to that," said Mr. Thorpe, resenting the interruption but not
+its sting. "After a careful campaign, Arthur Tresslyn was elected. He had
+a great deal of money, a kind heart and scarcely any brains. He was an
+ideal choice, everybody was agreed upon that. The fellow that Constance
+was really in love with at the time, Jimmy Gordon, was a friend of your
+father's. Well, the gentle Arthur went to pieces financially a good many
+years ago. He played hob with all the calculations, and so we find
+Constance, his wife, lamenting in the graveyard of her hopes and cursing
+Jimmy Gordon for his unfaithfulness in marrying before he was in a
+position to do so. If Jimmy had remained single for twelve years longer
+than he did, I daresay Arthur's widow would have succeeded in nabbing him
+whether or no. Arthur managed to die very happily, they say, quite well
+pleased with himself for having squandered the fortune which brought him
+so much misery. Now we come to Anne, Arthur's daughter. She became deeply
+enamoured of a splendid, earnest young chap named Braden Thorpe, grandson
+of the wealthy and doddering Templeton Thorpe, and recognised as his sole
+heir. Keep your seat, Braden; I am coming to the point. This young Thorpe
+trusted the fair and beautiful Anne. He set out to make a name and fortune
+for himself and for her. He sought knowledge and experience in distant
+lands, leaving his poor old grandfather at home with nothing to amuse
+himself with except nine millions of dollars and his dread of death. While
+Braden was experimenting in London, this doddering, senile old gentleman
+of Washington Square began to experiment a little on his own account. He
+set out to discover just what sort of stuff this Anne Tresslyn was made of
+and to prove to himself that she was worthy of his grandson's love. He
+began with the girl's mother. As soon as possible, he explained to her
+that money is a curse. She agreed that money is a curse if you haven't got
+it. In time, he confessed to her that he did not mean to curse his
+grandson with an unearned fortune, and that he intended to leave him in
+his will the trifling sum of fifty thousand dollars, thereby endowing him
+with the ambition and perhaps the energy to earn more and at the same time
+be of great benefit to the world in which he would have to struggle. Also,
+he let it be known that he was philanthropically inclined, that he
+purposed giving a great many millions to science and that his death would
+be of untold value to the human race. Are you attending, Braden? If you
+are not, I shall stop talking at once. It is very exhausting and I haven't
+much breath or time to waste."
+
+"I am listening. Go on," said Braden, suddenly sitting up in his chair and
+taking a long, deep breath. The angry, antagonistic light was gone from
+his eyes.
+
+"Well, the clever Mrs. Tresslyn was interested--deeply interested in my
+disclosures. She did not hesitate to inform me that Anne couldn't begin to
+live on the income from a miserable fifty thousand, and actually laughed
+in my face when I reminded her of the young lady's exalted preference for
+love in a cottage and joy at any price. Biding my time, I permitted the
+distressing truth to sink in. You will remember that Anne's letters began
+to come less frequently about four months ago, and--"
+
+"How do you happen to know about that?" broke in the young man, in
+surprise.
+
+"Where she had been in the habit of writing twice and even three times a
+week," went on Mr. Thorpe, "she was content to set herself to the task of
+dropping you a perfunctory letter once in a fortnight. You will also
+recall that her letters were not so full of intensity--or enthusiasm: they
+lacked fervour, they fell off considerably in many ways. I happen to know
+about all this, Braden, because putting two and two together has always
+been exceedingly simple for me. You see, it was about three months ago
+that Anne began to reveal more than casual interest in Percy Wintermill.
+She--"
+
+"Percy Wintermill!" gasped Braden, clutching the arms of his chair. "Why,
+she has always looked upon him as the stupidest, ugliest man in town. His
+attentions have been a standing joke between us. He is crazy about her, I
+know, but--oh, well, go on with the story."
+
+"To be sure he is crazy about her, as you say. That isn't strange. Half
+the young men in town think they are in love with her, and most of them
+believe she could make them happy. Now, no one concedes physical beauty or
+allurement to Percy. He is as ugly as they grow, but he isn't stupid. He
+is just a nice, amiable, senseless nincompoop with a great deal of money
+and a tremendous amount of health. He--"
+
+"I like Wintermill. He is one of my best friends. He is as square as any
+man I know and he would be the last person to try to come between Anne and
+me. He is too fond of me for that, sir. You--"
+
+"Unfortunately he was not aware of the fact that you and Anne were
+engaged. You forget that the engagement was to be kept under cover for the
+time being. But all this is beside the question. Mrs. Tresslyn had looked
+the field over pretty carefully. No one appeared to be so well qualified
+to take your place as Percy Wintermill. He had everything that is
+desirable in a husband except good looks and perhaps good manners. So she
+began fishing for Percy. Anne was a delightful bait. Of course, Percy's
+robust health was objectionable, but it wasn't insurmountable. I could see
+that Anne loathed the thought of having him for a husband for thirty or
+forty years. Anybody could see that,--even Percy must have possessed
+intelligence enough to see it for himself. Finally, about six weeks ago,
+Anne rose above her environment. She allowed Percy to propose, asked for a
+few days in which to make up her mind, and then came out with a point-
+blank refusal. She defied her mother, openly declaring that she would
+marry you in spite of everything."
+
+"And that is just what she shall do, poor girl," cried Braden joyously.
+"She shall not be driven into--"
+
+"Just a moment, please. When I discovered that young Wintermill couldn't
+be depended upon to rescue his best friend, I stepped into the arena, so
+to speak," said Mr. Thorpe with fine irony. "I sensed the situation
+perfectly. Percy was young and strong and enduring. He would be a long
+time dying in the natural order of things. What Anne was looking for--now,
+keep your seat, my boy!--what she wanted was a husband who could be
+depended upon to leave her a widow before it was too late. Now, I am
+seventy-seven, and failing pretty rapidly. It occurred to me that I would
+be just the thing for her. To make the story short, I began to dilate upon
+my great loneliness, and also hinted that if I could find the right sort
+of companion I would jump at the chance to get married. That's putting it
+rather coarsely, my boy, but the whole business is so ugly that it doesn't
+seem worth while to affect delicacy. Inside of two weeks, we had come to
+an understanding,--that is, an arrangement had been perfected. I think that
+everything was agreed upon except the actual day of my demise. As you
+know, I am to set aside for Anne as an ante-nuptial substitute for all
+dower rights in my estate, the sum of two million dollars. I may add that
+the securities guaranteeing this amount have been submitted to Mrs.
+Tresslyn and she has found them to be gilt-edged. These securities are to
+be held in trust for her until the day I die, when they go to her at once,
+according to our contract. She agrees to--"
+
+"By gad, sir, it is infamous! Absolutely infamous!" exclaimed young
+Thorpe, springing to his feet. "I cannot--I will not believe it of her."
+
+"She agrees to relinquish all claims to my estate," concluded the old man,
+with a chuckle. "Inasmuch as I have made it quite clear that all of my
+money is to go to charity,--scientific charity,--I imagine that the
+Tresslyns feel that they have made a pretty good bargain."
+
+"I still maintain that she will renounce the whole detestable--"
+
+"She would go back on her contract like a shot if she thought that I
+intended to include you among my scientific charities," interrupted the
+old man.
+
+"Oh, if I could only have an hour--half an hour with her," groaned Braden.
+"I could overcome the vile teaching of her mother and bring her to a
+realisation of what is ahead of her. I--"
+
+"Do you honestly,--in your heart, Braden,--believe that you could do that?"
+demanded Mr. Thorpe, arising from his chair and laying his hand upon the
+young man's shoulder. He forced the other's eyes to meet his. "Do you
+believe that she would be worthy of your love and respect even though she
+did back out of this arrangement? I want an honest answer."
+
+"God help me, I--I don't know what to think," cried Braden miserably. "I am
+shocked, bewildered. I can't say what I believe, grandfather. I only know
+that I have loved her better than my own soul. I don't know what to think
+now."
+
+"You might also say that she loves herself better than she loves her own
+soul," said the old man grimly. "She will go on loving you, I've no doubt,
+in a strictly physical way, but I wouldn't put much dependence in her
+soulfulness. One of these fine days, she will come to you and say that she
+has earned two million dollars, and she will ask you if it is too late to
+start all over again. What will you say to that?"
+
+"Good Lord, sir, what would you expect me to say?" exploded Braden. "I
+should tell her to--to go to hell!" he grated between his teeth.
+
+"Meanwhile, I want you to understand that I have acted for your best
+interests, Braden. God knows I am not in love with this girl. I know her
+kind, I know her breed. I want to save you from--well, I want to give you a
+fighting chance to be a great, good man. You need the love of a fine,
+unselfish woman to help you to the heights you aspire to reach. Anne
+Tresslyn would not have helped you. She cannot see above her own level.
+There are no heights for her. She belongs to the class that never looks up
+from the ground. They are always following the easiest path. I am doing
+you a good turn. Somewhere in this world there is a noble, self-
+sacrificing woman who will make you happy, who will give strength to you,
+who will love you for yourself and not for _herself_. Go out and find her,
+my boy. You will recognise her the instant you see her."
+
+"But you--what of you?" asked Braden, deeply impressed by the old man's
+unsuspected sentiment. "Will you go ahead and--and marry her, knowing that
+she will make your last few years of life unhappy, un--"
+
+"I am under contract," said Templeton Thorpe grimly. "I never go back on a
+contract."
+
+"I shall see her, nevertheless," said Braden doggedly.
+
+"It is my desire that you should. In fact, I shall make it my business to
+see that you do. After that, I fancy you will not care to remain here for
+the wedding. I should advise you to return to London as soon as you have
+had it out with her."
+
+"I shall remain here until the very hour of the wedding if it is to take
+place, and up to that very hour I shall do my best to prevent it,
+grandfather."
+
+"Your failure to do so will make me the happiest man in New York," said
+Mr. Thorpe, emotion in his voice, "for I love you dearly, Braden."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+A conspicuous but somewhat unimportant member of the Tresslyn family was a
+young man of twenty-four. He was Anne's brother, and he had preceded her
+into the world by the small matter of a year and two months. Mrs. Tresslyn
+had set great store by him. Being a male child he did not present the
+grave difficulties that attend the successful launching and disposal of
+the female of the species to which the Tresslyn family belonged. He was
+born with the divine right to pick and choose, and that is something that
+at present appears to be denied the sisters of men. But the amiable
+George, at the age of one and twenty and while still a freshman in
+college, picked a girl without consulting his parent and in a jiffy put an
+end to the theory that man's right is divine.
+
+It took more than half of Mrs. Tresslyn's income for the next two years,
+the ingenuity of a firm of expensive lawyers, the skill of nearly a dozen
+private detectives, and no end of sleepless nights to untie the loathsome
+knot, and even then George's wife had a shade the better of them in that
+she reserved the right to call herself Mrs. Tresslyn, quite permanently
+disgracing his family although she was no longer a part of it.
+
+The young woman was employed as a demonstrator for a new brand of mustard
+when George came into her life. The courtship was brief, for she was a
+pretty girl and virtuous. She couldn't see why there should be anything
+wrong in getting married, and therefore was very much surprised, and not a
+little chagrined, to find out almost immediately after the ceremony that
+she had committed a heinous and unpardonable sin. She shrank for a while
+under the lashings, and then, like a beast driven to cover, showed her
+teeth.
+
+If marriage was not sanctuary, she would know the reason why. With a
+single unimposing lawyer and not the remotest suggestion of a detective to
+reinforce her position, she took her stand against the unhappy George and
+his mother, and so successful were her efforts to make divorce difficult
+that she came out of chambers with thirty thousand dollars in cash, an
+aristocratic name, and a valuable claim to theatrical distinction.
+
+All this transpired less than two years prior to the events which were to
+culminate in the marriage of George's only sister to the Honourable
+Templeton Thorpe of Washington Square. Needless to say, George was now
+looked upon in the small family as a liability. He was a never-present
+help in time of trouble. The worst thing about him was his obstinate
+regard for the young woman who still bore his name but was no longer his
+wife. At twenty-four he looked upon himself as a man who had nothing to
+live for. He spent most of his time gnashing his teeth because the pretty
+little divorcee was receiving the attentions of young gentlemen in his own
+set, without the slightest hint of opposition on the part of their
+parents, while he was obliged to look on from afar off.
+
+It appears that parents do not object to young women of insufficient
+lineage provided the said young women keep at a safe distance from the
+marriage altar.
+
+It is interesting to note in this connection, however, that little Mrs.
+George Tresslyn was a model of propriety despite her sprightly
+explorations of a world that had been strange to her up to the time she
+was cast into it by a disgusted mother-in-law, and it is still more
+interesting to find that she nourished a sly hope that some day George
+would kick over the traces in a very manly fashion and marry her all over
+again!
+
+Be that as it may, the bereft and humiliated George favoured his mother
+and sister with innumerable half-hours in which they had to contend with
+scornful and exceedingly bitter opinions on the iniquity of marriage as it
+is practised among the elect. He fairly bawled his disapproval of the sale
+of Anne to the decrepit Mr. Thorpe, and there was not a day in the week
+that did not contain at least one unhappy hour for the women in his home,
+for just so often he held forth on the sanctity of the marriage vows.
+
+He was connected with a down-town brokerage firm and he was as near to
+being a failure in the business as an intimate and lifelong friend of the
+family would permit him to be and still allow him to remain in the office.
+His business was the selling of bonds. The friend of the family was the
+head of the firm, so no importance should be attached to the fact that
+George did not earn his salt as a salesman. It is only necessary to report
+that the young man made frequent and determined efforts to sell his wares,
+but with so little success that he would have been discouraged had it not
+been for the fact that he was intimately acquainted with himself. He knew
+himself too well to expect people to take much stock in the public
+endeavours of one whose private affairs were so far beneath notice. Men
+were not likely to overlook the disgraceful treatment of the little
+"mustard girl," for even the men who have mistreated women in their time
+overlook their own chicanery in preaching decency over the heads of others
+who have not played the game fairly. George looked upon himself as a
+marked man, against whom the scorn of the world was justly directed.
+
+Strange as it may appear, George Tresslyn was a tall, manly looking
+fellow, and quite handsome. At a glance you would have said that he had a
+great deal of character in his make-up and would get on in the world. Then
+you would hear about his matrimonial delinquency and instantly you would
+take a second glance. The second and more searching look would have
+revealed him as a herculean light-weight,--a man of strength and beauty and
+stature spoiled in the making. And you would be sorry that you had made
+the discovery, for it would take you back to his school days, and then you
+would encounter the causes.
+
+He had gone to a preparatory school when he was twelve. It was eight years
+before he got into the freshman class of the college that had been
+selected as the one best qualified to give him a degree, and there is no
+telling how long he might have remained there, faculty willing, had it not
+been for the interfering "mustard girl." He could throw a hammer farther
+and run the hundred faster than any youth in the freshman class, and he
+could handle an oar with the best of them, but as he had spent nearly
+eight years in acquiring this proficiency to the exclusion of anything
+else it is not surprising that he excelled in these pursuits, nor is it
+surprising that he possessed a decided aversion for the things that are
+commonly taught in college by studious-looking gentlemen who do not even
+belong to the athletic association and have forgotten their college yell.
+
+George boasted, in his freshman year, that if the faculty would let him
+alone he could easily get through the four years without flunking a single
+thing in athletics. It was during the hockey season, just after the
+Christmas holidays, that he married the pretty "mustard girl" and put an
+abrupt end to what must now be regarded as a superficial education.
+
+He carried his athletic vigour into the brokerage offices, however. No one
+could accuse him of being lazy, and no one could say that he did not make
+an effort. He possessed purpose and determination after a fashion, for he
+was proud and resentful; but he lacked perspective, no matter which way he
+looked for it. Behind him was a foggy recollection of the things he should
+have learned, and ahead was the dark realisation that the world is made up
+principally of men who cannot do the mile under thirty minutes but who
+possess amazing powers of endurance when it comes to running circles
+around the man who is trained to do the hundred yard dash in ten seconds
+flat.
+
+A few minutes after Braden Thorpe's departure from the Tresslyn drawing-
+room, young George entered the house and stamped upstairs to his
+combination bed-chamber and sitting-room on the top floor. He always went
+upstairs three steps at a time, as if in a hurry to have it over with. He
+had a room at the top of the house because he couldn't afford one lower
+down. A delayed sense of compunction had ordered Mrs. Tresslyn to insist
+upon George's paying his own way through life, now that he was of age and
+working for himself.
+
+When George found it impossible to pay his week's reckoning out of his
+earnings, he blithely borrowed the requisite amount--and a little over--from
+friends down-town, and thereby enjoyed the distinction of being uncommonly
+prompt in paying his landlady on the dot. So much for character-building.
+
+And now one of these "muckers" down-town was annoying him with persistent
+demands for the return of numerous small loans extending over a period of
+nineteen months. That sort of thing isn't done among gentlemen, according
+to George Tresslyn's code. For a month or more he had been in the
+humiliating position of being obliged to dodge the fellow, and he was
+getting tired of it. The whole amount was well under six hundred dollars,
+and as he had made it perfectly plain to the beggar that he was drawing
+ten per cent. on the loans, he couldn't see what sense there was in being
+in such a hurry to collect. On the other hand, as the beggar wasn't
+receiving the interest, it is quite possible that he could not look at the
+situation from George's point of view.
+
+Young Mr. Tresslyn finally had reached the conclusion that he would have
+to ask his mother for the money. He knew that the undertaking would prove
+a trying one, so he dashed up to his room for the purpose of fortifying
+himself with a stiff drink of benedictine.
+
+Having taken the drink, he sat down for a few minutes to give it a chance
+to become inspirational. Then he skipped blithely down to his mother's
+boudoir and rapped on the door,--not timidly or imploringly but with
+considerable authority. Receiving no response, he moved on to Anne's
+sitting-room, whence came the subdued sound of voices in conversation. He
+did not knock at Anne's door, but boldly opened it and advanced into the
+room.
+
+"Hello! Here you are," said George amiably.
+
+He was met by a cold, disapproving stare from his mother and a little gasp
+of dismay from Anne. It was quite apparent that he was an intruder.
+
+"I wish you would be good enough to knock before entering, George," said
+Mrs. Tresslyn severely.
+
+"I did," said George, "but you were not in. I always knock at your door,
+mother. You can't say that I've ever forgotten to do it." He looked
+aggrieved. "You surely don't mean that I ought to knock at Anne's door?"
+
+"Certainly. What do you want?"
+
+"Well," he began, depositing his long body on the couch and preparing to
+stretch out, "I'd like to kiss both of you if you'll let me."
+
+"Don't be silly," said Anne, "and don't put your feet on that clean
+chintz."
+
+"All right," said he cheerfully. "My, how lovely the bride is looking to-
+day! I wish old Tempy could see you now. He'd--"
+
+"If you are going to be disagreeable, George, you may get out at once,"
+said Mrs. Tresslyn.
+
+"I never felt less like being objectionable in my life," said he, "so if
+you don't mind I'll stay awhile. By the way, Anne, speaking of
+disagreeable things, I am sure I saw Brady Thorpe on the avenue a bit ago.
+Has your discarded skeleton come back with a key to your closet?"
+
+"Braden is in New York," said his mother acidly. "Is it necessary for you
+to be vulgar, George?"
+
+"Not at all," said he. "When did he arrive? I hope you don't see anything
+vulgar in that, mother," he made haste to add.
+
+"He reached New York to-day, I think. He has been here to see me. He has
+gone away. There is nothing more to be said, so please be good enough to
+consider the subject--"
+
+"Gee! but I'd like to have heard what he had to say to you!"
+
+"I am glad that you didn't," said Anne, "for if you had you might have
+been under the painful necessity of calling him to account for it, and I
+don't believe you'd like that."
+
+"Facetious, eh? Well, my mind is relieved at any rate. He spoke up like a
+little man, didn't he, mother? I thought he would. And I'll bet you gave
+him as good as he sent, so he's got his tail between his legs now and
+yelping for mercy. How does he look, Anne? Handsome as ever?"
+
+"Anne did not see him."
+
+"Of course she didn't. How stupid of me. Where is he stopping?"
+
+"With his grandfather, I suppose," said Mrs. Tresslyn, as tolerant as
+possible.
+
+"Naturally. I should have known that without asking. Getting the old boy
+braced up for the wedding, I suppose. Pumping oxygen into him, and all
+that sort of thing. And that reminds me of something else. I may give
+myself the pleasure of a personal call upon my prospective brother-in-law
+to-morrow."
+
+"What?" cried his mother sharply.
+
+"Yep," said George blithely. "I may have to do it. It's purely a business
+matter, so don't worry. I shan't say a word about the wedding. Far be it
+from me to distress an old gentleman about--"
+
+"What business can you have with Mr. Thorpe?" demanded his mother.
+
+"Well, as I don't believe in keeping secrets from you, mother, I'll
+explain. You see, I want to see if I can't negotiate the sale of a
+thousand dollar note. Mr. Thorpe may be in the market to buy a good, safe,
+gilt-edge note--"
+
+"Come to the point. Whose note are you trying to sell?"
+
+"My own," said George promptly.
+
+Anne laughed. "You would spell gilt with a letter u inserted before the i,
+in that case, wouldn't you?"
+
+"I give you my word," said George, "I don't know how to spell it. The two
+words sound exactly alike and I'm always confusing them."
+
+His mother came and stood over him. "George, you are not to go to Mr.
+Thorpe with your pecuniary difficulties. I forbid it, do you understand?"
+
+"Forbid it, mother? Great Scot, what's wrong in an honest little business
+transaction? I shall give him the best of security. If he doesn't care to
+let me have the money on the note, that's his affair. It's business, not
+friendship, I assure you. Old Tempy knows a good thing when he sees it. I
+shall also promise to pay twenty per cent. interest for two years from
+date. Two years, do you understand? If anything should happen to him
+before the two years are up, I'd still owe the money to his estate,
+wouldn't I? You can't deny that--"
+
+"Stop! Not another word, sir! Am I to believe that I have a son who is
+entirely devoid of principle? Are you so lacking in pride that--"
+
+"It depends entirely on how you spell the word, princi_pal_ or with a
+_ple_. I am entirely devoid of the one ending in pal, and I don't see what
+pride has to do with it anyway. Ask Anne. She can tell you all that is
+necessary to know about the Tresslyn pride."
+
+"Shut up!" said Anne languidly.
+
+"It's just this way, mother," said George, sitting up, with a frown. "I've
+got to have five or six hundred dollars. I'll be honest with you, too. I
+owe nearly that much to Percy Wintermill, and he is making himself
+infernally obnoxious about it."
+
+"Percy Wintermill? Have you been borrowing money from him?"
+
+"In a way, yes. That is, I've been asking him for it and he's been lending
+it to me. I don't think I've ever used the word borrow in a single
+instance. I hate the word. I simply say: 'Percy, let me take twenty-five
+for a week or two, will you?' and Percy says, 'All right, old boy,' and
+that's all there is to it. Percy's been all right up to a few weeks ago.
+In fact, I don't believe he would have mentioned the matter at all if Anne
+hadn't turned him down on New Year's Eve. Why the deuce did you refuse
+him, Anne? He'd always been decent till you did that. Now he's perfectly
+impossible."
+
+"You know perfectly well why I refused him," said Anne, lifting her
+eyebrows slightly.
+
+"Right-o! It was because you were engaged to Brady Thorpe. I quite forgot.
+I apologise. You were quite right in refusing him. Be that as it may,
+however, Percy is as sore as a crab. I can't go around owing money to a
+chap who has been refused by my sister, can I? One of the Wintermills,
+too. By Jove, it's awful!" He looked extremely distressed.
+
+"You are not to go to Mr. Thorpe," said his mother from the chair into
+which she had sunk in order to preserve a look of steadiness. A fine
+moisture had come out upon her upper lip. "You must find an honourable way
+in which to discharge your debts."
+
+"Isn't my note as good as anybody's?" he demanded.
+
+"No. It isn't worth a dollar."
+
+"Ah, but it _will_ be if Mr. Thorpe buys it," said he in triumph. "He
+could discount it for full value, if he wanted to. That's precisely what
+makes it good. I'm afraid you don't know very much about high finance,
+mother dear."
+
+"Please go away, George," complained Anne. "Mother and I have a great deal
+to talk about, and you are a dreadful nuisance when you discover a reason
+for coming home so long before dinner-time. Can't you pawn something?"
+
+"Don't be ridiculous," said George.
+
+"Why did you borrow money from Percy Wintermill?" demanded Mrs. Tresslyn.
+
+"There you go, mother, using that word 'borrow' again. I wish you
+wouldn't. It's a vulgar word. You might as well say, 'Why did you _swipe_
+money from Percy Wintermill?' He lent it to me because he realised how
+darned hard-up we are and felt sorry for me, I suppose."
+
+"For heaven's sake, George, don't tell me that you--"
+
+"Don't look so horrified, mother," he interrupted. "I didn't tell him we
+were hard-up. I merely said, from time to time, 'Let me take fifty,
+Percy.' I can't help it if he _suspects_, can I? And say, Anne, he was so
+terribly in love with you that he would have let me take a thousand any
+time I wanted it, if I'd had occasion to ask him for it. You ought to be
+thankful that I didn't."
+
+"Don't drag me into it," said Anne sharply.
+
+"I admit I was fooled all along," said he, with a rueful sigh. "I had an
+idea that you'd be tickled to death to marry into the Wintermill family.
+Position, money, family jewels, and all that sort of thing. Everything
+desirable except Percy. And then, just when I thought something might come
+of it, you up and get engaged to Brady Thorpe, keeping it secret from the
+public into the bargain. Confound it, you didn't even tell me till last
+fall. Your stupid secretiveness allowed me to go on getting into Percy's
+debt, when a word from you might have saved me a lot of trouble."
+
+"Will you kindly leave the room, George?" said his mother, arising.
+
+"Percy is making himself fearfully obnoxious," went on George ominously.
+"For nearly three weeks I've been dodging him, and it can't go on much
+longer. One of these fine days, mother, a prominent member of the
+Wintermill family is going to receive a far from exclusive thrashing.
+That's the only way I can think of to stop him, if I can't raise the money
+to pay him up. Some day I'm going to refrain from dodging and he is going
+to run right square into this." He held up a brawny fist. "I'm going to
+hold it just so, and it won't be too high for his nose, either. Then I'm
+going to pick him up and turn him around, with his face toward the
+Battery, and kick just as hard as I know how. I'll bet my head he'll not
+bother me about money after that--unless, of course, he's cad enough to sue
+me. I don't think he'll do that, however, being a proud and haughty
+Wintermill. I suppose we'll all be eliminated from the Wintermill
+invitation list after that, and it may be that we'll go without a
+fashionable dinner once in awhile, but what's all that to the preservation
+of the family dignity?"
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn leaned suddenly against a chair, and even Anne turned to
+regard her tall brother with a look of real dismay.
+
+"How much do you owe him?" asked the former, controlling her voice with an
+effort.
+
+"Five hundred and sixty-five dollars, including interest. A pitiful sum to
+get thrashed for, isn't it?"
+
+"And you were planning to get the money from Mr. Thorpe to pay Percy?"
+
+"To keep Percy from getting licked, would be the better way to put it. I
+think it's uncommonly decent of me."
+
+"You are--you are a bully, George,--a downright bully," flared Anne,
+confronting him with blazing eyes. "You have no right to frighten mother
+in this way. It's cowardly."
+
+"He doesn't frighten me, dear," said Mrs. Tresslyn, but her lips quivered.
+Turning to her son, she continued: "George, if you will mail a check to
+Percy this minute, I will draw one for you. A Tresslyn cannot owe money to
+a Wintermill. We will say no more about it. The subject is closed. Sit
+down there and draw a check for the amount, and I will sign it. Rawson
+will post it."
+
+George turned his head away, and lowered his chin. A huskiness came
+quickly into his voice.
+
+"I'm--I'm ashamed of myself, mother,--I give you my word I am. I came here
+intending to ask you point-blank to advance me the money. Then the idea
+came into my head to work the bluff about old Mr. Thorpe. That grew into
+Percy's prospective thrashing. I'm sorry. It's the first time I've ever
+tried to put anything over on you."
+
+"Fill in the check, please," she said coldly. "I've just been drawing a
+few for the dressmakers--a few that Anne has just remembered. I shan't in
+the least mind adding one for Percy. He isn't a dressmaker but if I were
+asked to select a suitable occupation for him I don't know of one he'd be
+better qualified to pursue. Fill it in, please."
+
+Her son looked at her admiringly. "By Jove, mother, you are a wonder. You
+never miss fire. I'd give a thousand dollars, if I had it, to see old Mrs.
+Wintermill's face if that remark could be repeated to her."
+
+A faint smile played about his mother's lips. After all, there was honest
+tribute in the speech of this son of hers.
+
+"It would be worse than a bloody nose for Percy," said Anne, slipping an
+arm around her mother's waist. "But I don't like what you said about _me_
+and the dressmakers. I must have gowns. It isn't quite the same as
+George's I.O.U. to Percy, you know."
+
+"Don't be selfish, Anne," cried George, jerking a chair up to the
+escritoire and scrambling among the papers for a pen. "You won't have to
+worry long. You'll soon be so rich that the dressmakers won't dare to send
+you a bill."
+
+"Wait a moment, George," said Mrs. Tresslyn abruptly. "If you do not
+promise to refrain from saying disagreeable things to Anne, I shall
+withdraw my offer to help you out of this scrape."
+
+George faced her. "Does that mean that I am to put my O.K. upon this
+wedding of Anne's?" His look of good-nature disappeared.
+
+"It means that you are not to comment upon it, that's all," said his
+mother. "You have said quite enough. There is nothing more that you can
+add to an already sufficiently distasteful argument."
+
+George swallowed hard as he bent over the checkbook. "All right, mother,
+I'll try to keep my trap closed from now on. But I don't want you to think
+that I'm taking this thing pleasantly. I'll say for the last time,--I
+hope,--that it's a darned crime, and we'll let it go at that."
+
+"Very well. We will let it go at that."
+
+"Great Scot!" burst from his lips as he whirled in the fragile chair to
+face the women of the house. "I just can't help feeling as I do about it.
+I can't bear to think of Anne,--my pretty sister Anne,--married to that old
+rummy. Why, she's fit to be the wife of a god. She's the prettiest girl in
+New York and she'd be one of the best if she had half a chance. A fellow
+like Braden Thorpe would make a queen of her, and that's just what she
+ought to be. Oh, Lord! To think of her being married to that burnt-out,
+shrivelled-up--"
+
+"George! That will do, sir!"
+
+His sister was staring at him in utter perplexity. Something like wonder
+was growing in her lovely, velvety eyes. Never before had she heard such
+words as these from the lips of her big and hitherto far from considerate
+brother, the brother who had always begrudged her the slightest sign of
+favour from their mother, who had blamed her for securing by unfair means
+more than her share of the maternal peace-offerings.
+
+Suddenly the big boy dug his knuckles into his eyes and turned away,
+muttering an oath of mortification. Anne sprang to his side. Her hands
+fell upon his shoulders.
+
+"What are you doing, George? Are--are you crazy?"
+
+"Crazy _nothing_," he choked out, biting his lip. "Go away, Anne. I'm just
+a damned fool, that's all. I--"
+
+"Mother, he's--he's crying," whispered Anne, bewildered. "What is it,
+George?" For the first time in her life she slipped an affectionate arm
+about him and laid her cheek against his sleek, black hair. "Buck up,
+little boy; don't take it like this. I'll--I'll be all right. I'll--oh, I'll
+never forget you for feeling as you do, George. I didn't think you'd
+really care so much."
+
+"Why,--why, Anne, of course I care," he gulped. "Why shouldn't I care?
+Aren't you my sister, and I your brother? I'd be a fine mess of a thing if
+I didn't care. I tell you, mother, it's awful! You know it is! It is a
+queer thing for a brother to say, I suppose, but--but I _do_ love Anne. All
+my life I've looked upon her as the finest thing in the world. I've been
+mean and nasty and all that sort of thing and I'm always saying rotten
+things to her, but, darn it, I--I do love my pretty sister. I ought to hate
+you, Anne, for this infernal thing you are determined to do--I ought to, do
+you understand, but I can't, I just can't. It's the rottenest thing a girl
+can do, and you're doing it, I--oh, say, what's the matter with me?
+Sniffling idiot! I say, where the devil _do_ you keep your pen?"
+Wrathfully he jerked a pile of note paper and blotters off the desk,
+scattering them on the floor. "I'll write the check, mother, and I'll
+promise to do my best hereafter about Anne and old Tempy. And what's more,
+I'll not punch Percy's nose, so you needn't be afraid he'll turn it up at
+us."
+
+The pen scratched vigorously across the check. His mother was regarding
+him with a queer expression in her eyes. She had not moved while he was
+expressing himself so feelingly about Anne. Was it possible that after all
+there was something fine in this boy of hers? His simple, genuine outburst
+was a revelation to her.
+
+"I trust this may be the last time that you will come to me for money in
+this way, George," she said levelly. "You must be made to realise that I
+cannot afford such luxuries as these. You have made it impossible for me
+to refuse you this time. I cannot allow a son of mine to be in debt to a
+Wintermill. You must not borrow money. You--"
+
+He looked up, grinning. "There you go again with that middle-class word,
+mother. But I'll forgive you this once on condition that you never use it
+again. People in our walk of life never _borrow_ anything but trouble, you
+know. We don't borrow money. We arrange for it occasionally, but God
+forbid that we should ever become so common as to borrow it. There you
+are, filled in and ready for your autograph--payable to Percy Reginald Van
+Alstone Wintermill. I put his whole name in so that he'd have to go to the
+exertion of signing it all on the back. He hates work worse than poison.
+I'm glad you didn't accept him, Anne. It would be awful to have to look up
+to a man who is so insignificant that you'd have to look down upon him at
+the same time."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn signed the check. "I will have Rawson post it to him at
+once," she said. "There goes one of your gowns, Anne,--five hundred and
+sixty-five dollars."
+
+"I shan't miss it, mother dear," said Anne cheerfully. She had linked an
+arm through one of George's, much to the surprise and embarrassment of the
+tall young man.
+
+"Bully girl," said he awkwardly. "Just for that I'll kiss the bride next
+month, and wish her the best of luck. I--I certainly hope you'll have
+better luck than I had."
+
+"There's still loads of luck ahead for you, George," said she, a little
+wistfully. "All you've got to do is to keep a sharp lookout and you'll
+find it some day--sooner than I, I'm sure. You'll find the right girl
+and--zip! Everything will be rosy, old boy!"
+
+He smiled wryly. "I've lost the right girl, Anne."
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Tresslyn sharply. Her eyes narrowed as she
+looked into his. "You ought to get down on your knees and thank God that
+you are not married to that--"
+
+"Wait a second, mother," he broke in. "I'm afraid I shall have to ask you
+to let her alone, now that you're rid of her, just as I'm expected to let
+old Tempy slide by without noticing him."
+
+"Nonsense," again said Mrs. Tresslyn, but this time with less confidence
+in her voice. She looked intently into her son's set face and fear was
+revived in her soul, an ever-present fear that slept and roused itself
+with sickening persistency.
+
+"We'll hang her up in the family closet, if you don't mind, alongside of
+Brady Thorpe, and we'll never mention her again if I can help it. I must
+say, though, that our skeletons are uncommonly attractive, aren't they,
+Anne? No dry, rattling bones in our closets, are there?" He squeezed her
+arm playfully, and was amazed when she jerked it away.
+
+"I was nice to you, George, and this is the way you--"
+
+"Forgive me, please. I didn't mean it in an offensive way. I just took it
+for granted that we'd understand each other. At any rate, we've got one
+thing to be thankful for. There are no Wintermill skeletons hanging in our
+closets. We've both succeeded in dodging them, praise the Lord."
+
+It so happened that Percy's excessively homely sister had been considered
+at one time as a most desirable helpmate for the rapidly developing
+George, and it is barely possible that the little mustard girl upset a
+social dynasty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+Mr. Thorpe was as good as his word. He arranged for the meeting between
+Braden and Anne, but with characteristic astuteness laid his plans so that
+they were to come upon each other unexpectedly. It happened on the second
+day after his talk with Braden.
+
+Mr. Thorpe's plan involved other people as well as the two most vitally
+interested. There was to be a meeting at his house late in the afternoon
+for the purpose of signing the ante-nuptial contract already agreed upon.
+Five o'clock was the hour set for the gathering. Lawyers representing both
+parties were to be there, with Mrs. Tresslyn, George and Anne, and Mr.
+Thorpe's private secretary, who, with Dr. Bates, was to serve as a witness
+to the instrument.
+
+At noon Wade delivered a letter to Miss Tresslyn in which Mr. Thorpe said
+that he would be pleased if she would accompany him to Tiffany's for the
+purpose of selecting a string of pearls. He made it quite clear that she
+was to go alone with him, playfully mentioning his desire to be the only
+witness to her confusion when confronted by the "obsequious salesman and
+his baubles from the sea." If quite agreeable to her he would make an
+appointment with the jeweller for 3.30 and would call for her in person.
+After that, he continued, the signing of a contract for life would not
+seem such a portentous undertaking, and they could go to the meeting with
+hearts as light as air. It was a cheerful, even gay little missive, but
+she was not for an instant blind to the irony that lay between the lines.
+
+Anne selected the pearls that he had chosen in advance of their visit to
+Tiffany's. He did not tell her that he had instructed the jeweller to make
+up a string of pearls for her inspection, with the understanding that she
+was to choose for herself from an assortment of half-a-dozen beautiful
+offerings, no price to be mentioned. He was quite sure that she would not
+even consider the cost. He credited her with an honest scorn for
+sentimentality; she would make no effort to glorify him for an act that
+was so obviously a part of their unsentimental compact. There would be no
+gushing over this sardonic tribute to her avarice. She would have herself
+too well in hand for that.
+
+They were about her neck when she entered the house near Washington Square
+almost an hour before the time appointed for the conference. In her secret
+but subdued pleasure over acquiring the costly present, she had lost all
+count of time. That was a part of Mr. Thorpe's expensive programme.
+
+All the way down in the automobile she had been estimating the value of
+her new possession. On one point she was satisfied: there were few
+handsomer strings in New York than hers. She would have to keep them in a
+safe place,--a vault, no doubt. Nearly every matron of her acquaintance
+made a great deal of the fact that she had to buy a safe in which to store
+her treasures. There was something agreeable--subtly agreeable--in owning
+jewels that would have to be kept in one of those staunch, opulent looking
+safes. She experienced a thrill of satisfaction by describing herself in
+advance, as one of the women with pearls. And there was additional
+gratification in the knowledge that she could hardly be called a matron in
+the strict sense of the word. She was glad that she was too young for
+that. She tried to recall the names of all the women who possessed pearls
+like these, and the apparent though undeclared age of each. There was not
+one among them who was under forty. Most of them had endured many years of
+married life before acquiring what she was to have at the outset. Mrs.
+Wintermill, for instance: she was sixty-two or three, and had but recently
+come into a string of pearls not a whit more valuable than the one that
+now adorned her neck and lay hidden beneath the warm fur collar of her
+coat.
+
+Her calculations suddenly hit upon something that could be used as a
+basis. Mrs. Wintermill's pearls had cost sixty-five thousand dollars.
+Sixty-five thousand dollars! She could not resist the impulse to shoot a
+swift, startled look out of the corners of her eyes at the silent old man
+beside her. That was a lot of money! And it was money that he was under no
+obligation to expend upon her. It was quite outside the contract. She was
+puzzled. Why this uncalled for generosity? A queer, sickening doubt
+assailed her.
+
+"Are--are these pearls really and truly to be mine?" she asked. "Mine to
+keep forever?"
+
+"Certainly, my dear," he said, looking at her so oddly that she flushed.
+He had read the thought that was in her mind. "I give and bequeath them to
+you this day, to have and to hold forever," he added, with a smile that
+she could not fail to understand.
+
+"I wanted to be sure," she said, resorting to frankness.
+
+When they entered the Thorpe home, Wade was waiting in the hall with the
+butler. His patient, set smile did not depart so much as the fraction of
+an inch from its habitual condition. His head was cocked a little to one
+side.
+
+"Are we late, Wade?" inquired Mr. Thorpe.
+
+"No, sir," said Wade. "No one has come." He glanced up at the tall clock
+on the landing. "It is a quarter past four, sir. Mrs. Tresslyn telephoned
+a few minutes ago, sir."
+
+"Ah! That she would be late?"
+
+"No, sir. To inquire if--ahem!--if Mr. Braden was likely to be here this
+afternoon."
+
+Anne started violently. A quick, hunted expression leaped into her eyes as
+she looked about her. Something rushed up into her throat, something that
+smothered.
+
+"You informed her, of course, that Mr. Braden declines to honour us with
+his presence," said Mr. Thorpe suavely.
+
+"Yes, sir, in a way."
+
+"Ahem! Well, my dear, make yourself quite at home. Go into the library,
+do. You'll find a roaring fire there. Murray, take Miss Tresslyn's coat.
+Make her comfortable. Come, Wade, your arm. Forgive me, Anne, if I leave
+you to yourself for a few minutes. My joy at having you here is shorn of
+its keenness by a long-established age that demands house-boots, an eider-
+down coat and--Murray, what the devil do you mean by letting the house get
+so cold as all this? It's like a barn. Are the furnaces out. What am I
+paying that rascally O'Toole for? Tell him to--"
+
+"It is quite comfortable, Mr. Thorpe," said Anne, with a slight shiver
+that was not to be charged to the defective O'Toole.
+
+The long, wide hall was dark and grim. Wade was dark and grim, and Murray
+too, despite his rotundity. There were lank shadows at the bottom of the
+hall, grim projections of objects that stood for ornamentation: a suit of
+armour, a gloomy candlestick of prodigious stature, and a thin Italian
+cabinet surmounted by an urn whose unexposed contents might readily have
+suggested something more sinister than the dust of antiquity. The door to
+the library was open. Fitful red shadows flashed dully from the fireplace
+across the room, creeping out into the hall and then darting back again as
+if afraid to venture. The waning sunlight struggled through a curtained
+window at the top of the stairs. There was dusk in the house. Evening had
+fallen there.
+
+Anne stood in the middle of the library, divested of her warm fur coat.
+Murray was poking the fire, and cheerful flames were leaping upward in
+response to the call to wake. She had removed one of her gloves. With the
+slim, bared fingers she fondled the pearls about her neck, but her
+thoughts were not of baubles. She was thinking of this huge room full of
+shadows, shadows through which she would have to walk for many a day,
+where night would always be welcome because of the light it demanded.
+
+It was a man's room. Everything in it was massive, substantial. Big
+chairs, wide lounges, and a thick soft carpet of dull red that deprived
+the footfall of its sound. Books mounted high,--almost to the
+ceiling,--filling all the spaces left unused by the doors and windows.
+Heavy damask curtains shut out the light of day. She wondered why they had
+been drawn so early, and whether they were always drawn like this. Near
+the big fireplace, with its long mantelpiece over which hung suspended the
+portrait of an early Knickerbocker gentleman with ruddy, even convivial
+countenance, stood a long table, a reading lamp at the farther end. Books,
+magazines, papers lay in disorder upon this table.
+
+She recalled something that Braden once had told her: his grandfather
+always "raised Cain" with any one who happened to be guilty of what he
+called criminal orderliness in putting the table to rights. He wanted the
+papers and magazines left just as they were, so that he could put his hand
+upon them without demanding too much of a servant's powers of divination.
+More than one parlour-maid had been dismissed for offensive neatness.
+
+She closed her eyes for a second. A faint line, as of pain, appeared
+between them. In this room Braden Thorpe had been coddled and scolded, in
+this room he had romped and studied--She opened her eyes quickly.
+
+"Murray," she said, in a low voice; "you are quite sure that Mr. Braden
+is--is out?"
+
+The old butler straightened up from his task, his hand going to his back
+as if to keep it from creaking. "Yes, Miss Tresslyn, quite sure." He
+hesitated for a moment. "I think he said that he intended to give himself
+the pleasure of a call--ahem! I beg pardon. Yes, he is quite out--I should
+say, I'm quite sure he is out." He was confused, a most unheard of thing
+in Murray.
+
+"But he will return--soon?" She took a step or two nearer the door,
+possessed of a sudden impulse to run,--to run swiftly away.
+
+"I think not, miss," said he. "He is not expected to be here during
+the--er--you might say, the--ahem!"
+
+"I'll have a look about the room," said Anne softly. She felt that she was
+going to like Murray. She wanted him to like her. The butler may have
+caught the queer little note in her voice, or he may have seen the hunted
+look in her eyes before she turned them away. At any rate, he poked the
+fire vigorously once more. It was his way of saying that she might depend
+upon him. Then he went out of the room, closing the door behind him.
+
+She started violently, and put her hand to her heart. She had the queer,
+uncanny feeling that she was locked in this sombre room, that she would
+never be free again.
+
+In a room upstairs, Mr. Templeton Thorpe was saying to Wade:
+
+"Is my grandson in his room?"
+
+"Yes, sir. He came in at four and has been waiting for you, as you
+directed, sir."
+
+"Tell him that I would like to see him at once in the library," said Mr.
+Thorpe.
+
+"Yes, sir," said Wade, and for the first time in years his patient smile
+assumed the proportions of a grin. He did not have to be told that Anne's
+presence in the house was not to be made known to Braden. All that he was
+expected to do was to inform the young man that his grandfather wanted to
+see him in the library,--at once.
+
+And so it came to pass that three minutes later, Braden and Anne were face
+to face with each other, and old Mr. Thorpe had redeemed his promise.
+
+Of the two, Braden was the more surprised. The girl's misgivings had
+prepared her for just such a crisis as this. Something told her the
+instant she set foot inside the house that she was to be tricked. In a
+flash she realised that Mr. Thorpe himself was responsible for the
+encounter she had dreaded. It was impossible to suspect Braden of being a
+party to the scheme. He was petrified. There could be no doubt that he had
+been tricked quite as cleverly as she.
+
+But what could have been in the old man's design? Was it a trap? Did he
+expect her to rush into Braden's arms? Was he lurking behind some near-by
+curtain to witness her surrender? Was he putting her to the test, or was
+it his grandson who was on trial?
+
+Here was the supreme crisis in the life of Anne Tresslyn: the turning
+point. Her whole being cried out against this crafty trick. One word now
+from Braden would have altered the whole course of her life. In eager
+silence she stood on the thin edge of circumstance, ready to fall as the
+wind blew strongest. She was in revolt. If this stupefied, white-faced
+young man had but called out to her: "Anne! Anne, my darling! Come!" she
+would have laughed in triumph over the outcome of the old man's test, and
+all the years of her life would have been filled with sweetness. She would
+have gone to him.
+
+But, alas, those were not the words that fell from his lips, and the fate
+of Anne Tresslyn was sealed as she stood there watching him with wide-
+spread eyes.
+
+"I prefer to see you in your own home," he said, a flush of anger
+spreading over his face; "not here in my grandfather's house."
+
+There was no mistaking his meaning. He thought she had come there to see
+him,--ay, conceivably had planned this very situation! She started. It was
+like a slap in the face. Then she breathed once more, and realised that
+she had not drawn a breath since he entered the room. Her life had been
+standing still, waiting till these few stupendous seconds were over. Now
+they were gone and she could take up life where it had left off. The
+tightness in her throat relaxed. The crisis was over, the turning point
+was behind her. He had failed her, and he would have to pay. He would have
+to pay with months, even years of waiting. For it had never occurred to
+Anne Tresslyn to doubt that he would come to her in good and proper time!
+
+She could not speak at once. Her response was not ready. She was
+collecting herself. Given the time, she would rise above the mischief that
+confounded her. To have uttered the words that hung unuttered on her lips
+would have glorified him and brought shame to her pride forever more. Five
+words trembled there awaiting deliverance and they were good and honest
+words--"Take me back, Braden darling!" They were never spoken. They were
+formed to answer a different call from him. She checked them in time.
+
+"I did not come here to see you," she said at last, standing very straight
+beside the table. He was just inside the door leading to the hall. "Whose
+trick is this,--yours or Mr. Thorpe's?"
+
+Enlightenment flashed into his eyes. "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "He said he
+would do it, and he has made good. This is his way of--" He broke off in
+the middle of the sentence. In an instant he had whirled about and the
+door was closed with a bang.
+
+She started forward, her hand pressed to her quick-beating heart, real
+fear in her eyes. What was in his mind? Was this insanity? She had read of
+men driven mad by disappointment who brutally set upon and killed--But he
+was facing her now, and she stopped short. His jaw was set but there was
+no insane light in the eyes that regarded her so steadily. Somehow--and
+suddenly--her composure was restored. She was not afraid of him. She was
+not afraid of the hands and arms that had caressed her so tenderly, nor
+was she afraid of the words that were to fall from the lips that had
+kissed hers so many times. He was merely going to plead with her, and she
+was well prepared for that.
+
+For weeks and weeks she had been preparing herself for this unhappy
+moment. She knew that the time would come when she would have to face him
+and defend herself. She would have to deny the man she loved. She would
+have to tell him that she was going for a higher price than he could pay.
+The time had come and she was ready. The weakness of the minute before had
+passed--passed with his failure to strike when, with all her heart and
+soul, she wanted him to strike.
+
+"You need not be frightened," he said, subduing his voice with an effort.
+"Let us take time to steady ourselves. We have a good deal to say to each
+other. Let's be careful not to waste words, now that we're face to face at
+last."
+
+"I am quite calm," she said, stock-still beside the table. "Why should I
+be frightened? I am the last person in the world that you would strike,
+Braden." She was that sure of him!
+
+"Strike? Good God, why should that have entered your head?"
+
+"One never knows," she said. "I was startled. I was afraid--at first. You
+implied a moment ago that I had arranged for this meeting. Surely you
+understand that I--"
+
+"My grandfather arranged it," he interrupted. "There's no use beating
+about the bush. I told him that I would not believe this thing of you
+unless I had it from your own lips. You would not see me. You were not
+permitted to see me. I told him that you were being forced into this
+horrible marriage, that your mother was afraid to let me have a single
+word with you. He laughed at me. He said that you were going into it with
+your eyes open, that you were obeying your mother willingly, that you--"
+
+"Pardon me," she interrupted coldly. "Is your grandfather secreted
+somewhere near so that he may be able to enjoy the--"
+
+"I don't know, and I don't care. Let him hear if he wants to. Why should
+either of us care? He knows all there is to know about you and he
+certainly appreciates my position. We may as well speak freely. It will
+not make the slightest difference, one way or the other, so far as he is
+concerned. He knows perfectly well that you are not marrying him for love,
+or respect, or even position. So let's speak plainly. I say that he
+arranged this meeting between us. He brought you here, and he sent
+upstairs for me to join him in this room. Well, you see he isn't here. We
+are quite alone. He is fair to both of us. He is giving me my chance and
+he is giving you yours. It only remains for us to settle the matter here
+and now. I know all of the details of this disgusting compact. I know that
+you are to have two million dollars settled upon you the day you are
+married--oh, I know the whole of it! Now, there's just one thing to be
+settled between you and me: are you going ahead with it or are you going
+to be an honest woman and marry the man you love?"
+
+He did not leave her much to stand upon. She had expected him to go about
+it in an entirely different way. She had counted upon an impassioned plea
+for himself, not this terse, cold-blooded, almost unemotional summing up
+of the situation. For an instant she was at a loss. It was hard to look
+into his honest eyes. A queer, unformed doubt began to torment her, a
+doubt that grew into a question later on: was he still in love with her?
+
+"And what if I do not care to discuss my private affairs with you?" she
+said, playing for time.
+
+"Don't fence, Anne," he said sternly. "Answer the question. Wait. I'll put
+it in another form, and I want the truth. If you say to me that your
+mother is deliberately forcing you into this marriage I'll believe you,
+and I'll--I'll fight for you till I get you. I will not stand by and see
+you sacrificed, even though you may appear to--"
+
+"Stop, please. If you mean to ask _that_ question, I'll answer it in
+advance. It is I, not my mother, who expects to marry Mr. Thorpe, and I am
+quite old enough and wise enough to know my own mind. So you need not put
+the question."
+
+He drew nearer. The table separated them as they looked squarely into each
+other's eyes through the fire-lit space that lay between.
+
+"Anne, Anne!" he cried hoarsely. "You must not, you shall not do this
+unspeakable thing! For God's sake, girl, if you have an atom of self-
+respect, the slightest--"
+
+"Don't begin that, Braden!" she cut in, ominously. "I cannot permit you or
+any man to _say_ such things to me, no matter what you may think. Bear
+that in mind."
+
+"Don't you mind what I think about it, Anne?" he cried, his voice
+breaking.
+
+"See here, Braden," she said, in an abrupt, matter-of-fact manner, "it
+isn't going to do the least bit of good to argue the point. I am pledged
+to marry Mr. Thorpe and I shall do so if I live till the twenty-third of
+next month. Provided, of course, that he lives till that day himself. I
+have gone into it with my eyes open, as he says, and I am satisfied with
+my bargain. I suppose you will hate me to the end of your days. But if you
+think that I expect to hate myself, you are very much mistaken. Look! Do
+you see these pearls? They were not included in the bargain, and I could
+have gone on very well without them to the end of my term as the mistress
+of this house, but I accepted them from my fiancé to-day in precisely the
+same spirit in which they were given: as alms to the undeserving. Your
+grandfather did not want me to marry you. He is merely paying me to keep
+my hands _off_. That's the long and the short of it. I am not in the least
+deceived. You will say that I could--and should have told him to go to the
+devil. Well, I'm sorry to have to tell you that I couldn't see my way
+clear to doing that. I hope he _is_ listening behind the curtains. We
+drove a hard bargain. He thought he could get off with a million. You must
+remember that he had deliberately disinherited you,--that much I know. His
+will is made. It will not be altered. You will be a poor man as wealth is
+reckoned in these days. But you will be a great man. You will be famous,
+distinguished, honoured. That is what he intends. He set out to sacrifice
+me in order that you might be spared. You were not to have a millstone
+about your neck in the shape of a selfish, unsacrificing wife. What rot!
+From the bottom of my heart, Braden,--if you will grant me a heart,--I hope
+and pray that you may go to the head of your profession, that you may be a
+great and good man. I do not ask you to believe me when I say that I love
+you, and always--"
+
+"For God's sake, don't ask me to believe it! Don't add to the degradation
+you are piling up for yourself. Spare yourself that miserable confession.
+It is quite unnecessary to lie to me, Anne."
+
+"Lie? I am telling you the truth, Braden. I do love you. I can't help
+that, can I? You do not for an instant suspect that I love this doddering
+old man, do you? Well, I must love some one. That's natural, isn't it?
+Then, why shouldn't it be you? Oh, laugh if you will! It doesn't hurt me
+in the least. Curse me, if you like. I've made up my mind to go on with
+this business of marrying. We've had one unsuccessful marriage in our
+family of late. Love was at the bottom of it. You know how it has turned
+out, Braden. It--"
+
+"I believe I know how it might have turned out if they had been left to
+themselves," said he bluntly.
+
+"She would have been a millstone, nevertheless," she argued.
+
+"I don't agree with you. George found his level in that little nobody, as
+you all have called her. Poor little thing, she was not so lucky as I. She
+did not have her eyes opened in time. She had no chance to escape. But
+we're not here to talk about Lutie Carnahan. I have told my grandfather
+that I intend to break this thing off if it is in my power to do so. I
+shall not give up until I know that you are actually married. It is a
+crime that must not--"
+
+"How do you purpose breaking it off?" she inquired shrilly. Visions of a
+strong figure rising in the middle of the ceremony to cry out against the
+final words flashed into her mind. Would she have that to look forward to
+and dread?
+
+"I shall go on appealing to your honour, your decency, your self-respect,
+if not to the love you say you bear for me."
+
+She breathed easier. "And will you confine your appeals to me?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I thought you might take it into your head to appeal to Mr. Thorpe's
+honour, decency, self-respect and love for you," she said, sullenly. "He
+is quite as guilty as I, remember."
+
+"He has quite a different object in view. He seems to feel that he is
+doing me a good turn, not an evil one."
+
+"Bosh!" She was angry. "And what will be your attitude toward me if you
+_do_ succeed in preventing the marriage? Will you take me back as I was
+before this thing came up? Will you make me your wife, just as if nothing
+had happened? In view of my deliberate intention to deny you, will you
+forget everything and take me back?"
+
+He put his hand to his throat, and for a moment appeared to be struggling
+against himself. "I will take you back, Anne, as if nothing had happened,
+if you will say to me here and now that you will marry me to-morrow."
+
+She stared at him, incredulous. Her heart began to beat rapidly once more
+and the anger died away. "You would do that, knowing me to be what I am?"
+
+"Knowing you to be what you _were_," he amended eagerly. "Oh, Anne, you
+are worth loving, you are pure of heart and--"
+
+"If I will marry you to-morrow?" she went on, watching his face closely.
+
+"Yes. But you must say it now--this instant. I will not grant you a
+moment's respite. If you do not say the word now, your chance is gone
+forever. It has to be now, Anne."
+
+"And if I refuse--what then?"
+
+"I would not marry you if you were the only woman on earth," he said
+flatly.
+
+She smiled. "Are you sure that you love me, Braden?"
+
+"I will love you when you become what you were,--a month ago," he said
+simply. "A girl worth the honour of being loved," he added.
+
+"Men sometimes love those who are not worth the honour," she said, feeling
+her way. "They cannot help themselves."
+
+"Will you say the word _now_?" he demanded hoarsely.
+
+She sighed. It was a sigh of relief,--perhaps of triumph. He was safe for
+all time. He would come to her in the end. She was on solid ground once
+more.
+
+"I am afraid, Braden, that I cannot play fast and loose with a man as old
+as Mr. Thorpe," she said lightly.
+
+He muttered an oath. "Don't be a fool! What do you call your treatment of
+me? Fast and loose! Good Lord, haven't you played fast and loose with me?"
+
+"Ah, but you are young and enduring," she said. "You will get over it. He
+wouldn't have the time or strength to recover from the shock of--"
+
+"Oh, for God's sake, don't talk like that! What do you call yourself?
+What--" He checked the angry words and after a moment went on, more
+quietly: "Now, see here, Anne, I'm through parleying with you. I shall go
+on trying to prevent this marriage, but succeed or fail, I don't want to
+see your face again as long as I live. I'm through with you. You _are_
+like your mother. You are a damned vampire. God, how I have loved and
+trusted you, how I have believed in you. I did not believe that the woman
+lived who could degrade herself as you are about to degrade yourself. I
+have had my eyes opened. All my life I have loved you without even knowing
+you. All my life I--"
+
+"All my life I have loved you," she broke in cringingly.
+
+He laughed aloud. "The hell you have!" he cried out. "You have allowed me
+to hold you in my arms, to kiss you, to fondle you, and you have trembled
+with joy and passion,--and now you call it love! Love! You have never loved
+in your life and you never will. You call self-gratification by the name
+of love. Thank God, I know you at last. I ought to pity you. In all
+humanity I ought to pity a fellow creature so devoid of--"
+
+"Stop!" she cried, her face flaming red. "Go! Go away! You have said
+enough. I will hate you if you utter another word, and I don't want to
+hate you, Braden. I want to go on loving you all my life. I _must_ go on
+loving you."
+
+"You have my consent," he said, ironically, bowing low before her.
+"Humanity compels me to grant you all the consolation you can find in
+deceiving yourself."
+
+"Wait!" she cried out, as he turned toward the door. "I--I am hurt, Braden.
+Can't you see how you have hurt me? Won't you--"
+
+"Of course, you are hurt!" he shouted. "You squeal when you are hurt. You
+think only of yourself when you cry 'I am hurt'! Don't you ever think of
+any one else?" His hand grasped the big silver door-knob.
+
+"I want you to understand, if you can, why I am doing this thing you
+revile me for."
+
+"I understand," he said curtly.
+
+She hurried her words, fearful that he might rush from the room before she
+could utter the belated explanation.
+
+"I don't want to be poor. I don't want to go through life as my mother has
+gone, always fighting for the things she most desired, always being behind
+the game she was forced to play. You can't understand,--you are too big and
+fine,--you cannot understand the little things, Braden. I want love and
+happiness, but I want the other, too. Don't you see that with all this
+money at my command I can be independent, I can be safe for all time, I
+can give more than myself in return for the love that I must have? Don't
+you understand why--"
+
+She was quite close to him when he interrupted the impassioned appeal. His
+hand shook as he held it up to check her approach.
+
+"It's all over, Anne. There is nothing more to be said. I understand
+everything now. May God forgive you," he said huskily.
+
+She stopped short. Her head went up and defiance shone in her face.
+
+"I'd rather have your forgiveness than God's," she said distinctly, "and
+since I may not ask for it now, I will wait for it, my friend. We love
+each other. Time mends a good many breaks. Good-bye! Some day I hope
+you'll come to see your poor old granny, and bring--"
+
+"Oh, for the love of heaven, have a little decency, Anne," he cried, his
+lip curling.
+
+But her pride was roused, it was in revolt against all of the finer
+instincts that struggled for expression.
+
+"You'd better go now. Run upstairs and tell your grandfather that his
+scheme worked perfectly. Tell him everything I have said. He will not
+mind. I am sorry you will not remain to see the contract signed. I should
+like to have you for a witness. If you--"
+
+"Contract? What contract?"
+
+"Oh," she said lightly, "just a little agreement on his part to make life
+endurable for me while he continues to live. We are to sign the paper at
+five o'clock. Yes, you'd better run along, Braden, or you'll find yourself
+the centre of a perplexed crowd. Before you go, please take a last look at
+me in my sepulchre. Here I stand! Am I not fair to look upon?"
+
+"God, I'd sooner see you in your grave than here," he grated out. "You'd
+be better off, a thousand times."
+
+"This is my grave," she said, "or will be soon. I suppose I am not to
+count you among the mourners?"
+
+He slammed the door behind him, and she was alone.
+
+"How I hate people who slam doors," she said to herself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+A fortnight passed. Preparations for the wedding went on in the Tresslyn
+home with little or no slackening of the tension that had settled upon the
+inmates with the advent of the disturber. Anne was now sullenly determined
+that nothing should intervene to prevent the marriage, unless an unkind
+Providence ordered the death of Templeton Thorpe. She was bitter toward
+Braden. Down in her soul, she knew that he was justified in the stand he
+had taken, and in that knowledge lay the secret of her revolt against one
+of the commands of Nature. He had treated her with the scorn that she knew
+she deserved; he had pronounced judgment upon her, and she confessed to
+herself that she was guilty as charged. That was the worst of it; she
+could pronounce herself guilty, and yet resent the justice of her own
+decision.
+
+In her desperation, she tried to hold old Mr. Thorpe responsible for the
+fresh canker that gnawed at her soul. But for that encounter in his
+library, she might have proceeded with confidence instead of the
+uneasiness that now attended her every step. She could not free herself of
+the fear that Braden might after all succeed in his efforts to persuade
+the old man to change his mind. True, the contract was signed, but
+contracts are not always sacred. They are made to be broken. Moreover, by
+no stretch of the imagination could this contract be looked upon as sacred
+and it certainly would not look pretty if exposed to a court of law. Her
+sole thought now was to have it all safely over with. Then perhaps she
+could smile once more.
+
+In the home of the bridegroom, preparations for the event were scant and
+of a perfunctory nature. Mr. Templeton Thorpe ordered a new suit of
+clothes for himself--or, to be quite precise, he instructed Wade to order
+it. He was in need of a new suit anyway, he said, and he had put off
+ordering it for a long, long time, not because he was parsimonious but
+because he did not like going up town for the "try-on." He also had a new
+silk hat made from his special block, and he would doubtless be compelled
+to have his hair trimmed up a bit about the nineteenth or twentieth, if
+the weather turned a trifle warmer. Of course, there would be the trip to
+City Hall with Anne, for the licence. He would have to attend to that in
+person. That was one thing that Wade couldn't do for him. Wade bought the
+wedding-ring and saw to the engraving; he attended to the buying of a gift
+for the best man,--who under one of the phases of an all-enveloping irony
+was to be George Dexter Tresslyn!--and in the same expedition to the
+jewellers' purchased for himself a watch-fob as a self-selected gift from
+a master who had never given him anything in all his years of service
+except his monthly wage and a daily malediction.
+
+Braden Thorpe made the supreme effort to save his grandfather. Believing
+himself to be completely cured of his desire for Anne, he took the stand
+that there was no longer a necessity for the old gentleman to sacrifice
+himself to the greed of the Tresslyns. But Mr. Thorpe refused to listen to
+this new and apparently unprejudiced argument. He was firm in his
+determination to clip Anne's claws; he would take no chances with youth,
+ultimate propinquity, and the wiles of a repentant sinner.
+
+"You can guard against anything," said he in his wisdom, "except the
+beautiful woman who repents. You never can tell what she'll do to make her
+repentance satisfactory to everybody concerned. So we'll take no chances
+with Anne. We'll put her in irons, my boy, so to speak."
+
+And so it was that Braden, worn and disspirited, gave up in despair and
+prepared for his return to London. He went before an examining board in
+New York first and obtained his licence to become a practising physician
+and surgeon, and, with a set expression in his disillusioned eyes, peered
+out into the future in quest of the fame that was to take the place of a
+young girl's love.
+
+He met his first patient in the Knickerbocker Café. Lunching alone there
+one day, a week before the date selected for sailing, he was accosted by
+an extremely gay and pretty young woman who came over from a table of four
+in a distant corner of the room.
+
+"Is this Dr. Braden Thorpe?" she inquired, placing her hands on the back
+of the chair opposite and leaning forward with a most agreeable, even
+inviting smile.
+
+Her face was familiar. "Since day before yesterday," he replied, rising
+with a self-conscious flush.
+
+"May I sit down? I want to talk to you about myself." She sat down in the
+chair that an alert waiter pulled out for her.
+
+"I am afraid you are labouring under a misapprehension," he said. "I--I am
+not what you would call a practising physician as yet."
+
+"Aren't you looking for patients?" she inquired. "Sit down, please."
+
+"I haven't even an office, so why should I feel that I am entitled to a
+patient?" he said. "You see, I've just got my licence to practice. As
+things go, I shouldn't have a client for at least two years. Are you
+looking for a doctor?"
+
+"I saw by the papers this morning that the grandson of Mr. Templeton
+Thorpe was a regular doctor. One of my friends over there pointed you out
+to me. What is your fee for an appendicitis operation, Dr. Thorpe?"
+
+"Good--ahem! I beg your pardon. You really startled me. I--"
+
+"Oh, that's all right. I quite understand. Hard to grasp at first, isn't
+it? Well, I've got to have my appendix out sooner or later. It's been
+bothering me for a year, off and on. Everybody tells me I ought to have it
+out sometime when it isn't bothering me and--"
+
+"But, my dear young lady, I'm not the man you want. You ought to go to
+some--"
+
+"You'll do just as well as any one, I'm sure. It's no trick to take out an
+appendix in these days. The fewer a doctor has snipped off, the less he
+charges, don't you know. So why shouldn't I, being quite poor, take
+advantage of your ignorance? The most intelligent surgeon in New York
+couldn't do any more than to snip it off, now could he? And he wouldn't be
+one-tenth as ignorant as you are about prices."
+
+She was so gay and naïve about it that he curbed his amazement, and, to
+some extent, his embarrassment.
+
+"I suppose that it is also ignorance on my part that supplies me with
+office hours in a public restaurant from one to three o'clock," he said,
+with a very unprofessional grin.
+
+"What hospital do you work in?" she demanded, in a business-like tone.
+
+Humouring her, he mentioned one of the big hospitals in which he had
+served as an interne.
+
+"That suits me," she said. "Can you do it to-morrow?"
+
+"For heaven's sake, madam, I--are you in earnest?"
+
+"Absolutely. I want to have it done right away. You see, I do a good deal
+of dancing, and--now, listen!" She leaned farther across the table, a
+serious little line appearing between her brows. "I want you to do it
+because I've always heard that you are one of the most earnest, capable
+and ambitious young men in the business. I'd sooner trust you than any one
+else, Dr. Thorpe. It has to be done by some one, so if I'm willing to take
+a chance with you, why shouldn't you take one with me?"
+
+"I have been in Europe for nearly three years. How could you possibly have
+heard all this about me?"
+
+"See that fellow over there facing us? The funny little chap with the baby
+moustache? He--"
+
+"Why, it's Simmy Dodge," cried Braden. "Are--are you--"
+
+"Just a friend, that's all. He's one of the finest chaps in New York. He's
+a gentleman. That's Mr. and Mrs. Rumsey Fenn,--the other two, I mean. You
+can't see them for the florist shop in between. They know you too, so--"
+
+"May I inquire why one of my friends did not bring you over and introduce
+me to you, Miss--er--"
+
+"Miss, in a sort of way, Doctor, but still a Missus," she said amiably.
+"Well, I told them that I knew you quite well and I wouldn't let them come
+over. It's all right, though. We'll be partially related to each other by
+marriage before long, I understand; so it's all right. You see, I am Mrs.
+George Dexter Tresslyn."
+
+"You--you are?" he gasped. "By Jove, I thought that your face was familiar.
+I--"
+
+"One of the best advertised faces in New York about two years ago," she
+said, and he detected a plaintive note in the flippant remark. "Not so
+well-known nowadays, thank God. See here, Dr. Thorpe, I hope you won't
+think it out of place for me _to_ congratulate you."
+
+"Congratulate me? My dear Mrs. Tresslyn, it is not I who am to be married.
+You confuse me with--"
+
+"I'm congratulating you because you're not the one," said she, her eyes
+narrowing. "Bless your soul, I know what I'm talking about. But say no
+more. Let's get back to the appendix. Will you do the job for me?"
+
+"Now that we are acquainted with each other," he said, suppressing a
+natural excitement, "may we not go over and join Simmy and the Fenns?
+Don't you think you'd better consult with them before irrevocably
+committing yourself to me?"
+
+"Fine! We'll talk it over together, the whole lot of us. But, I say, don't
+forget that I've known you for years--through the family, of course. I want
+to thank you first for one thing, Dr. Thorpe. George used to tell me how
+you took my part in the--the smash-up. He said you wrote to him from Europe
+to be a man and stand by me in spite of everything. That's really what
+I've been wanting to say to you, more than the other. Still, I've got to
+have it out, so come on. Let's set a day. Mrs. Fenn will go up to the
+hospital with me. She's used to hospitals. Says she loves them. She's
+trying her best to have Mr. Fenn go in next week to have his out. She's
+had five operations and a baby. I'm awfully glad to know you, Dr. Thorpe.
+I've always wanted to. I'd like better than anything I know of to be your
+first regular patient. It will always be something to boast about in years
+to come. It will be splendid to say to people, 'Oh, yes, I am the first
+person that ever had her appendix removed by the celebrated Dr. Thorpe.'
+It will--"
+
+"But I have removed a great many," he said, carried away by her sprightly
+good humour. "In my training days, so to speak."
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," she cried, disappointed. Then her face
+brightened: "Still, I suppose you had to learn just where the thing is. It
+wouldn't do to go about stabbing people in the wrong place, just as if the
+appendix might be any little old where, would it?"
+
+"I should say not," said he, arising and bowing very profoundly. Then he
+followed close behind her trim, smart figure as they threaded their way
+among the tables.
+
+So this was the "pretty little mustard girl" that all fashionable New York
+had talked about in the past and was dancing with in the present. This was
+the girl who refused to go to the dogs at the earnest behest of the
+redoubtable Mrs. Tresslyn. Somehow he felt that Fate had provided him with
+an unexpected pal!
+
+And, to his utter astonishment, he was prevailed upon to perform the
+operation! The Fenns and Simeon Dodge decided the matter for him.
+
+"I shall have to give up sailing next week," he said, as pleased as Punch
+but contriving to project a wry face. "I can't go away and leave my first
+bona-fide patient until she is entirely out of the woods."
+
+"I have engagements for to-morrow and Wednesday," said Mrs. Rumsey Fenn,
+after reflection. She was a rather pallid woman of thirty-five who might
+have been accused of being bored with life if she had not made so many
+successful efforts to prolong it.
+
+"It doesn't happen to be your appendix, my dear," said her husband.
+
+"Goodness, I wish it were," said she, regretfully. "What I mean is that I
+can't go to the hospital with Lutie before,--let me see,--before Thursday.
+Can you wait that long, dear?"
+
+"Ask Dr. Thorpe," said young Mrs. Tresslyn. "He is my doctor, you know."
+
+"Of course, you all understand that I cannot go ahead and perform an
+operation without first determining--"
+
+"Don't you worry," said the patient. "My physician has been after me for a
+year to have it out. He'll back me up. I'll telephone him as soon as I get
+back home, and I'll have him call you up, Dr. Thorpe. Thanks ever so much.
+And, before I forget it, what is the fee to be? You see, I pay my own
+bills, so I've got to know the--the worst."
+
+"My fee will be even more reasonable than you hope, Mrs. Tresslyn," said
+Braden, smiling. "Just guess at the amount you'd feel able to pay and then
+divide it by two, and you'll have it."
+
+"Dear me," cried Mrs. Fenn, "how perfectly satisfactory! Rumsey, you
+_must_ have yours out this week. You're always talking about not being
+able to afford things, and here's a chance to save money in a way you
+never would have suspected."
+
+"Good Lord, Madge," exclaimed her husband, "I've never had a pain in my
+life. I wish you wouldn't keep nagging at me all the time to have an
+operation performed, whether I need it or not. Let my appendix alone. It's
+always treated me with extreme loyalty and respect, so why the deuce
+should I turn upon the poor thing and assassinate it?"
+
+"See here, Rumsey," said Simmy Dodge sagely, "if I were in your place I'd
+have a perfectly sound tooth pulled some time, just to keep it from aching
+when you're an old man. Or you might have your left leg amputated so that
+it couldn't be crushed in a railroad accident. You ought to do something
+to please Madge, old chap. She's been a thoughtful, devoted wife to you
+for twelve or thirteen years, and what have you ever done to please her?
+Nothing! You've never so much as had a crick in your neck or a pain that
+you couldn't account for, so do be generous, Rumsey. Besides, maybe you
+haven't got an appendix at all. Just think how you could crow over her if
+they couldn't find one, even after the most careful and relentless search
+over your entire system."
+
+"She's always wanting me to die or something like that," growled Fenn;
+"but when I talked of going to the Spanish War she went into hysterics."
+
+"We'd only been married a month, Rumsey," said his wife reproachfully.
+
+"But how could I have known that war was to be declared so soon?" he
+demanded.
+
+Braden and Simeon Dodge left the restaurant together. They were old
+friends, college-mates, and of the same age. Dodge had gone into the law-
+school after his academic course, and Thorpe into the medical college.
+Their ways did not part, however. Both were looked upon as heirs to huge
+fortunes, and to both was offered the rather doubtful popularity that
+usually is granted to affluence. Thorpe accepted his share with the
+caution of the wise man, while Dodge, not a whit less capable, took his as
+a philanderer. He now had an office in a big down-town building, but he
+never went near it except when his partner took it into his head to go
+away for a month's vacation at the slack season of the year. At such
+periods Mr. Dodge, being ages younger than the junior member of the firm,
+made it his practice to go down to the office and attend to the business
+with an earnestness that surprised every one. He gave over frolicking and
+stuck resolutely to the "knitting" that Johnson had left behind. Possessed
+of a natural though thrifty intelligence,--one that wasted little in
+public,--and a latent energy that could lift him occasionally above a
+perfectly normal laziness, he made as much of his opportunities as one
+could expect of a young man who has two hundred thousand a year and an
+amiable disposition.
+
+No one in the city was more popular than Simmy Dodge, and no one more
+deservedly so, for his bad qualities were never so bad that one need
+hesitate about calling him a good fellow. His habits were easy but
+genteel. When intoxicated he never smashed things, and when sober,--which
+was his common condition,--he took extremely good care of other people's
+reputations. Women liked him, which should not be surprising; and men
+liked him because he was not to be spoiled by the women who liked him,
+which is saying a great deal for an indolent young man with money. He had
+a smile that always appeared at its best in the morning, and survived the
+day with amazing endurance. And that also is saying a great deal for a
+young man who is favoured by both sexes and a _supposedly_ neutral Dame
+Fortune at the same time. He had broken many of the laws of man and some
+of those imposed by God, but he always paid without apology. He was
+inevitably pardoned by man and paroled by his Maker,--which is as much as
+to say that he led a pretty decent sort of existence and enjoyed
+exceedingly good health.
+
+He really wasn't much to look at. Being a trifle under medium height,
+weighing less than one hundred and twenty pounds stripped, as wiry as a
+cat and as indefatigable as a Scotch terrier, and with an abnormally large
+pair of ears that stood out like oyster shells from the sides of a round,
+sleek head, he made no pretentions to physical splendour,--unless, by
+chance, you would call the perky little straw-coloured moustache that
+adorned his long upper lip a tribute to vanity. His eyes were blue and
+merry and set wide apart under a bulging, intellectual looking forehead,
+and his teeth were large and as white as snow. When he laughed the world
+laughed with him, and when he tried to appear downcast the laughter went
+on just the same, for then he was more amusing than ever.
+
+"I didn't know you were a friend of hers," said he as they stood in front
+of the hotel waiting for the taxi that was to take Thorpe to a hospital.
+
+Thorpe remembered the admonition. "I tried to put a little back-bone into
+George Tresslyn at the time of the rumpus, if that's what you'd call being
+a friend to her," he said evasively.
+
+"She's a nice little girl," said Simmy, "and she's been darned badly
+treated. Mrs. Tresslyn has never gotten over the fact that Lutie made her
+pay handsomely to get the noble Georgie back into the smart set. Plucky
+little beggar, too. Lot of people like the Fenns and the Roush girls have
+taken her up, primarily, I suppose, because the Tresslyns threw her down.
+She's making good with them, too, after a fashion all her own. Must be
+something fine in a girl like that, Brady,--I mean something worth while.
+Straight as a string, and a long way from being a disgrace to the name of
+Tresslyn. Quaint, isn't she?"
+
+"Amazingly so. I think George would marry her all over again if she'd have
+him, mother or no mother."
+
+"Well, she's quaint in another respect," said Dodge. "She still considers
+herself to be George Tresslyn's wife."
+
+"Religion?"
+
+"Not a bit of it. She just says she is, that's all, and what God joined
+together no woman can put asunder. She means Mrs. Tresslyn, of course. By
+the way, Brady, I wonder if I'm still enough of a pal to be allowed to say
+something to you." The blue eyes were serious and there was a sort of
+caressing note in his voice.
+
+"We've always been pals, Simmy."
+
+"Well, it's just this: I'm darned sorry things have turned out as they
+have for you. It's a rotten shame. Why don't you choke that old
+grandparent of yours? Put him out of his misery. Anne has told me of your
+diabolical designs upon the hopelessly afflicted. She used to talk about
+it for hours while you were in London,--and I had to listen with shivers
+running up and down my back all the time. Nobody on earth could blame you
+for putting the quietus on old Templeton Thorpe. He is about as hopelessly
+afflicted as any one I know,--begging your pardon for treading on the
+family toes."
+
+"He's quite sane, Simmy," said Braden, with a smile that was meant to be
+pleasant but fell short of the mark.
+
+"He's an infernal old traitor, then," said Simmy hotly. "I wouldn't treat
+a dog as he has treated you,--no kind of a dog, mind you. Not even a
+Pekinese, and I hate 'em worse than snakes. What the devil does Anne mean?
+Lordy, Lordy, man, she's always been in love with you. She--but, forgive
+me, old chap, I oughtn't to run on like this. I didn't mean to open a
+sore--"
+
+"It's all right, Simmy. I understand. Thanks, old boy. It was a pretty
+stiff blow, but--well, I'm still on my pins, as you see."
+
+Dodge was hanging onto the door of the taxi, impeding his friend's
+departure. "She's too fine a girl to be doing a rotten thing like this. I
+don't mind telling you I've always been in--er--that is, I've always had a
+tender spot for Anne. I suppose you know that?"
+
+"I know that, Simmy."
+
+"Hang it all, I never dreamed that she'd look at any one else but you, so
+I never even peeped a word to her about my own feelings. And here she
+goes, throwing you over like a shot, and spilling everything. Confound it,
+man, if I'd thought she could possibly want to marry anybody else but you,
+I'd have had my try. The good Lord knows I'm not much, but by thunder, I'm
+not decrepit. I--I suppose it was the money, eh?"
+
+"That's for you to say, Simmy; certainly not for me."
+
+"If it's money she's after and not an Adonis, I don't see why the deuce
+she didn't advertise. I would have answered in a minute. I can't help
+saying it, old man, but I feel sorry for Anne, 'pon my soul, I do. I don't
+think she's doing this of her own free will. See what her mother did to
+George and that little girl in there? I tell you there's something nasty
+and--"
+
+"I may as well tell you that Anne _is_ doing this thing of her own free
+will," said Braden gravely.
+
+"I don't believe it," said Dodge.
+
+"At any rate, Simmy, I'm grateful to you for standing clear while there
+was still a chance for me. So long! I must be getting up to the hospital,
+and then around to see her doctor."
+
+"So long, Brady. See you on Thursday." He meant, good soul, that he would
+be at the hospital on that day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+An hour later, Mr. Simeon Dodge appeared at the home of Anne Tresslyn. In
+place of his usual care-free manner there now rested upon him an air of
+extreme gravity. This late afternoon visit was the result of an
+inspiration. After leaving Thorpe he found himself deeply buried in
+reflection which amounted almost to abstraction. He was disturbed by the
+persistency of the thoughts that nagged at him, no matter whither his
+aimless footsteps carried him. For the life of him, he could not put from
+his mind the conviction that Anne Tresslyn was not responsible for her
+actions.
+
+He was convinced that she had been bullied, cowed, coerced, or whatever
+you like, into this atrocious marriage, and, of course, there could be no
+one to blame but her soulless mother. The girl ought to be saved. (These
+are Simmy's thoughts.) She was being sacrificed to the greed of an
+unnatural mother. Admitting, for the sake of argument, that she was no
+longer in love with Braden Thorpe, there still remained the positive
+conviction that she could not be in love with any one else, and certainly
+not with that treacherous old man in Washington Square. That, of course,
+was utterly impossible, so there was but the one alternative: she was
+being forced into a marriage that would bring the most money into the
+hands of the designing and, to him, clearly unnatural parent.
+
+He knew nothing of the ante-nuptial settlement, nor was he aware of the
+old man's quixotic design in coming between Braden and the girl he loved.
+To Simmy it was nothing short of brigandage, a sort of moral outlawry. Old
+Templeton Thorpe deserved a coat of tar and feathers, and there was no
+word for the punishment that ought to be meted out to Mrs. Tresslyn. He
+tried to think of what ought to be done to her, and, getting as far as
+boiling oil, gave up in despair, for even that was too much like
+compassion.
+
+Money! The whole beastly business was money! He thought of his own
+unestimated wealth. Nothing but money,--horrible, insensate, devastating
+money! He shuddered as he thought of what his money was likely to bring to
+him in the end: a loveless wife; avarice in place of respect; misery
+instead of joy; destruction! How was he ever to know whether a girl was
+marrying him for himself or for the right to lay hands upon the money his
+father had left to him when he died? How can any rich man know what he is
+getting into when he permits a girl to come into his home? To burglarise
+it with the sanction of State and Church, perhaps, and to escape with the
+connivance of both after she's got all she wants. That's where the poor
+man has an advantage over the unprotected rich: he is never confronted by
+a problem like this. He doesn't have to stop and wonder why the woman
+marries him. He knows it's love, or stupidity, or morality, but it is
+never duplicity.
+
+Before he got through with it, Simmy had worked himself into a state of
+desperation. Regarding himself with unprejudiced eyes he saw that he was
+not the sort of man a girl would choose for a husband unless he had
+something besides a happy, loving disposition to offer. She would marry
+him for his money, of course; certainly he would be the last to suspect
+her of marrying him for his beauty. He had never thought of it in this
+light before, and he was wet with the sweat of anguish. He could never be
+sure! He could love a woman with all his heart and soul, and still never
+be sure of her! Were all the girls he had loved in his college days--But
+here he stopped. It was too terrible to even contemplate, this unmerited
+popularity of his! If only one of them had been honest enough to make fun
+of his ears, or to snicker when he became impassioned, or to smile
+contemptuously from her superior height when he asked her to dance,--if
+only one of them had turned her back upon him, then he would have grasped
+the unwelcome truth about himself. But, now that he thought of it, not one
+of them had ever turned a deaf ear to his cajoleries, not one had failed
+to respond to his blandishments, not one had been sincere enough to frown
+upon him when he tried to be witty. And that brought him to another
+sickening standstill: was he as bright and clever and witty as people made
+him out to be? Wasn't he a dreadful bore, a blithering ass, after all? He
+felt himself turning cold to the marrow as he thought of the real value
+that people placed upon him. He even tried to recall a single thing that
+he had ever said that he could now, in sober judgment, regard as bright or
+even fairly clever. He couldn't, so then, after all, it was quite clear
+that he was tolerated because he had nothing but money.
+
+Just as he was about to retire from his club where he had gone for solace,
+an inspiration was born. It sent him forthwith to Anne Tresslyn's home,
+dogged, determined and manfully disillusioned.
+
+"Miss Tresslyn is very busy, Mr. Dodge," said Rawson, "but she says she
+will see you, sir, if you will wait a few moments."
+
+"I'll wait," said Simmy, and sat down.
+
+He had come to the remarkable conclusion that as long as some one had to
+marry him for his money it might as well be Anne. He was fond of her and
+he could at least spare her the ignominy and horror of being wedded to old
+Templeton Thorpe. With his friend Braden admittedly out of the running,
+there was no just cause why he should not at least have a try at saving
+Anne. She might jump at the chance. He was already blaming himself for not
+having recognised her peril, her dire necessity, long before this. And
+since he had reached the dismal conclusion that no one could possibly love
+him, it would be the sensible thing on his part to at least marry some one
+whom he loved, thereby securing, in a way, half of a bargain when he might
+otherwise have to put up with nothing at all. At any rate, he would be
+doing Anne a good turn by marrying her, and it was reasonably certain that
+she would not bring him any more unhappiness than any other woman who
+might accept him.
+
+As he sat there waiting for her he began to classify his financial
+holdings, putting certain railroads and industrials into class one, others
+into class two, and so on to the best of his ability to recollect what
+really comprised his fortune. It was rather a hopeless task, for to save
+his life he could not remember whether he had Lake Shore stock or West
+Shore stock, and he did not know what Standard Oil was selling at, nor any
+of the bank stocks except the Fifth Avenue, which seldom went below forty-
+five hundred. There might be a very awkward situation, too, if he couldn't
+justify his proposal with facts instead of conjectures. Suppose that she
+came out point blank and asked him what he was worth: what could he say?
+But then, of course, she wouldn't have to ask such a question. If she
+considered it possible to marry him, she would _know_ how much he was
+worth without inquiring. As a matter of fact, she probably knew to a
+dollar, and that was a great deal more than he knew.
+
+Half an hour passed before she came down. She was wearing her hat and was
+buttoning her gloves as she came hurriedly into the room. Simmy had a
+startling impression that he had seen a great many women putting on their
+gloves as they came into rooms where he was waiting. The significance of
+this extraordinary custom had never struck him with full force before. In
+the gloom of his present appraisal of himself, he now realised with
+shocking distinctness that the women he called upon were always on the
+point of going somewhere else.
+
+"Hello, Simmy," cried Anne gaily. He had never seen her looking more
+beautiful. There was real colour in her smooth cheeks and the sparkle of
+enthusiasm in her big, dark eyes.
+
+He shook hands with her. "Hello," he said.
+
+"I can spare you just twenty minutes, Simmy," she said, peering at the
+little French clock on the mantelpiece with the frankest sort of
+calculation. "Going to the dressmaker's at five, you know. It's a great
+business, this getting married, Simmy. You ought to try it."
+
+"I know I ought," said he, pulling a chair up close to hers. "That's what
+I came to see you about, Anne."
+
+She gave a little shriek of wonder. "For heaven's sake, Simmy, don't tell
+me that _you_ are going to be married. I can't believe it."
+
+He made note of the emphasis she put upon the pronoun, and secretly
+resented it.
+
+"Depends entirely on you, Anne," he said. He looked over his shoulder to
+see if any one was within the sound of his voice, which he took the
+precaution to lower to what had always been a successful tone in days when
+he was considered quite an excellent purveyor of sweet nothings in dim
+hallways, shady nooks and unpopulated stairways. "I want you to marry me
+right away," he went on, but not with that amazing confidence of yester-
+years.
+
+Anne blinked. Then she drew back and stared at him for a moment. A merry
+smile followed her brief inspection.
+
+"Simmy, you've been drinking."
+
+He scowled, and at that she laughed aloud. "'Pon my soul, not more than
+three, Anne. I rarely drink in the middle of the day. Almost never, I
+swear to you. Confound it, why should you say I've been drinking? Can't I
+be serious without being accused of drunkenness? What the devil do you
+mean, Anne, by intimating that I--"
+
+"Don't explode, Simmy," she cried. "I wasn't intimating a thing. I was
+positively asserting it. But go on, please. You interest me. Don't try to
+look injured, Simmy. You can't manage it at all."
+
+"I didn't come here to be insulted," he growled.
+
+"Did you come here to insult me?" she inquired, the smile suddenly leaving
+her eyes.
+
+"Good Lord, no!" he gasped. "Only I don't like what you said a minute ago.
+I never was more serious or more sober in my life. You've been proposed to
+a hundred times, I suppose, and I'll bet I'm the only one you've ever
+accused of drinking at the time. It's just my luck. I--"
+
+"What in the world are you trying to get at, Simmy Dodge?" she cried. "Are
+you really asking me to marry you?"
+
+"Certainly," he said, far from mollified.
+
+She leaned back in the chair and regarded him in silence for a moment. "Is
+it possible that you have not heard that I am to be married this month?"
+she asked, and there was something like pity in her manner.
+
+"Heard it? Of course, I've heard it. Everybody's heard it. That's just
+what I've come to see you about. To talk the whole thing over. To see if
+we can't do something. Now, there is a way out of it, dear girl. It may
+not be the best way in the world but it's infinitely--"
+
+"Are you crazy?" she cried, staring at him in alarm.
+
+"See here, Anne," he said gently, "I am your friend. It will not make any
+difference to you if I tell you that I love you, that I've loved you for
+years. It's true nevertheless. I'm glad that I've at last had the courage
+to tell you. Still I suppose it's immaterial. I've come up here this
+afternoon to ask you to be my wife. I don't ask you to _say_ that you love
+me. I don't want to put you in such a position as that. I know you don't
+love me, but--"
+
+"Simmy! Oh, Simmy!" she cried out, a hysterical laugh in her throat that
+died suddenly in a strange, choking way. She was looking at him now with
+wide, comprehending eyes.
+
+"I can't bear to see you married to that old man, Anne," he went on. "It
+is too awful for words. You are one of the most perfect of God's
+creations. You shall not be sacrificed on this damned altar of--I beg your
+pardon, I did not mean to begin by accusing any one of deliberately
+forcing you into--into--" He broke off and pulled fiercely at his little
+moustache.
+
+"I see now," she said presently. "You are willing to sacrifice yourself in
+order that I may be spared. Is that it?"
+
+"It isn't precisely a sacrifice. At least, it isn't quite the same sort of
+sacrifice that goes with your case as it now stands. In this instance, one
+of us at least is moved by a feeling of love;--in the other, there is no
+love at all. If you will take me, Anne, you will get a man who adores you
+for yourself. Isn't there something in that? I can give you everything
+that old man Thorpe can give, with love thrown in. I understand the
+situation. You are not marrying that old man because you love him. There's
+something back of it all that you can't tell me, and I shall not ask you
+to do so. But listen, dear; I'm decent, I'm honest, I'm young and I'm
+rich. I can give you everything that money will buy. Good Lord, I wish I
+could remember just what I've got to offer you in the way of--But, never
+mind now. If you'd like it, I'll have my secretary make out a complete
+list of--"
+
+"So you think I am marrying Mr. Thorpe for his money,--is that it, Simmy
+dear?" she asked.
+
+"I know it," said he promptly. "That is, you are marrying him because some
+one else--ahem! You can't expect me to believe that you love the old
+codger."
+
+"No, I can't expect that of any one. Thank you, Simmy. I think I
+understand. You really want to--to save me. Isn't that so?"
+
+"I do, Anne, God knows I do," he said fervently. "It's the most beastly,
+diabolical--"
+
+"You have been fair with me, Simmy," she broke in seriously, "so I'll be
+fair with you. I am marrying Mr. Thorpe for his money. I ought to be
+ashamed to confess it openly in this way, but I'm not. Every one knows
+just why I am going into this thing, and every one is putting the blame
+upon my mother. She is not wholly to blame. I am not being driven into it.
+It's in the blood of us. We are that kind. We are a bad lot, Simmy, we
+women of the breed. It goes a long way back, and we're all alike. Don't
+ask me to say anything more, dear old boy. I'm just a rotter, so let it go
+at that."
+
+"You're nothing of the sort," he exclaimed, seizing her hand. "You're
+nothing of the sort!"
+
+"Oh, yes, I am," she said wearily.
+
+"See here, Anne," he said earnestly, "why not take me? If it's a matter of
+money, and nothing else, why not take me? That's what I mean. That's just
+what I wanted to explain to you. Think it over, Anne. For heaven's sake,
+don't go on with the other thing. Chuck it all and--take me. I won't bother
+you much. You can have all the money you need--and more, if you ask for it.
+Hang it all, I'll settle a stipulated amount upon you before we take
+another step. A million, two millions,--I don't care a hang,--only don't
+spoil this bright, splendid young life of yours by--Oh, Lordy, it's
+incomprehensible!"
+
+She patted the back of his hand, gently, even tremblingly. Her eyes were
+very bright and very solemn.
+
+"It has to go on now, Simmy," she said at last.
+
+For a long time they were silent.
+
+"I hope you have got completely over your love for Braden Thorpe," he
+said. "But, of course, you have. You don't care for him any more. You
+couldn't care for him and go on with this. It wouldn't be human, you
+know."
+
+"No, it wouldn't be human," she said, her face rigid.
+
+He was staring intently at the floor. Something vague yet sure was forming
+in his brain, something that grew to comprehension before he spoke.
+
+"By Jove, Anne," he muttered, "I am beginning to understand. You wouldn't
+marry a _young_ man for his money. It has to be an old man, an incredibly
+old man. I see!"
+
+"I would not marry a young man, Simmy, for anything but love," she said
+simply. "I would not live for years with a man unless I loved him, be he
+poor or rich. Now you have it, my friend. I'm a pretty bad one, eh?"
+
+"No, siree! I'd say it speaks mighty well for you," he cried
+enthusiastically. His whimsical smile returned and the points of his
+little moustache went up once more. "Just think of waiting for a golden
+wedding anniversary with a duffer like me! By Jove, I can see the horror
+of that myself. You just couldn't do it. I get your idea perfectly, Anne.
+Would it interest you if I were to promise to be extremely reckless with
+my life? You see, I'm always taking chances with my automobiles. Had three
+or four bad smash-ups already, and one broken arm. I _could_ be a little
+more reckless and _very_ careless if you think it would help. I've never
+had typhoid or pneumonia. I could go about exposing myself to all sorts of
+things after a year or two. Flying machines, too, and long distance
+swimming. I might even try to swim the English Channel. North Pole
+expeditions, African wild game hunts,--all that sort of thing, Anne. I'll
+promise to do everything in my power to make life as short as possible, if
+you'll only--"
+
+"Oh, Simmy, you are killing," she cried, laughing through her tears. "I
+shall always adore you."
+
+"That's what they all say. Well, I've done my best, Anne. If you'll run
+away with me to-night, or to-morrow, or any time before the twenty-third,
+I'll be the happiest man in the world. You can call me up any time,--at the
+club or at my apartment. I'll be ready. Think it over. Good-bye. I wish I
+could wish you good luck in this other--but, of course, you couldn't expect
+that. We're a queer lot, all of us. I've always had a sneaking suspicion
+that if my mother had married the man she was truly in love with, I'd be a
+much better-looking chap than I am to-day."
+
+She was standing beside him at the door, nearly a head taller than he.
+
+"Or," she amended with a dainty grimace, "you might be a very beautiful
+girl, and that would be dreadful."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+The day before the wedding, little Mrs. George Dexter Tresslyn,
+satisfactorily shorn of her appendix and on the rapid road to recovery
+that is traveled only by the perfectly healthy of mankind, confided to her
+doctor that the mystery of the daily bunch of roses was solved. They
+represented the interest and attention of her ex-husband, and, while they
+were unaccompanied by a single word from him, they also signified
+devotion.
+
+"Which means that he is still making love to you?" said Thorpe, with mock
+severity.
+
+"Clandestinely," said she, with a lovely blush and a curious softening of
+her eyes. She was wondering how this big, strong friend of hers would take
+the information, and how far she could go in her confidences without
+adventuring upon forbidden territory. Would he close the gates in the wall
+that guarded his own opinions of the common foe, or would he let her
+inside long enough for a joint discussion of the condition that confronted
+both of them: the Tresslyn nakedness? "He has been inquiring about me
+twice a day by telephone, Doctor, and this morning he was down stairs. My
+night nurse knows him by sight. He was here at half-past seven. That's
+very early for George, believe me. This hospital is a long way from where
+he lives. I would say that he got up at six or half-past, wouldn't you?"
+
+"If he went to bed at all," said Thorpe, with a grim smile.
+
+"Anyhow, it proves something, doesn't it?" she persisted.
+
+"Obviously. He is still in love with you, if that's what you want me to
+say."
+
+"That's just what I wanted you to say," she cried, her eyes sparkling.
+"Poor George! He's a dear, and I don't care who hears me say it. If he'd
+had any kind of a chance at all we wouldn't be--Oh, well, what's the use
+talking about it?" She sighed deeply.
+
+Braden watched her flushed, drawn face with frowning eyes. He realised
+that she had suffered long in silence, that her heart had been wrung in
+the bitter stretches of a thousand nights despite the gay indifference of
+the thousand days that lay between them. For nearly three years she had
+kept alive the hungry thing that gnawed at her heart and would not be
+denied. He was sorry for her. She was better than most of the women he
+knew in one respect if in no other: she was steadfast. She had made a
+bargain and it was not her fault that it was not binding. He had but
+little pity for George Tresslyn. The little he had was due to the belief
+that if the boy had been older he would have fought a better fight for the
+girl. As she lay there now, propped up against the pillows, he could not
+help contrasting her with the splendid, high-bred daughter of Constance
+Tresslyn. That she was a high-minded, honest, God-fearing girl he could
+not for an instant doubt, but that she lacked the--there is but one word
+for it--_class_ of the Tresslyn women he could not but feel as well as see.
+There was a distinct line between them, a line that it would take
+generations to cross. Still, she was a loyal, warm-hearted enduring
+creature, and by qualities such as these she mounted to a much higher
+plane than Anne Tresslyn could ever hope to attain, despite her position
+on the opposite side of the line. He had never seen George's wife in
+anything but a blithe, confident mood; she was an unbeaten little warrior
+who kept her colours flying in the face of a despot called Fate. In fact,
+she was worthy of a better man than young Tresslyn, worthy of the steel of
+a nobler foe than his mother.
+
+He was eager to comfort her. "It is pretty fine of George, sending you
+these flowers every day. I am getting a new light on him. Has he ever
+suggested to you in any way the possibility of--of--well, you know what I
+mean?"
+
+"Fixing it up again between us?" she supplied, an eager light in her eyes.
+"No, never, Dr. Thorpe. He has never spoken to me, never written a line to
+me. That's fine of him too. He loves me, I'm sure of it, and he wants me,
+but it _is_ fine of him not to bother me, now isn't it? He knows he could
+drag me back into the muddle, he knows he could make a fool of me, and yet
+he will not take that advantage of me."
+
+"Would you go back to him if he asked you to do so?"
+
+"I suppose so," she sighed. Then brightly: "So, you see, I shall refuse to
+see him if he ever comes to plead. That's the only way. We must go our
+separate ways, as decreed. I am his wife but I must not so far forget
+myself as to think that he is my husband. I know, Dr. Thorpe, that if we
+had been left alone, we could have managed somehow. He was young, but so
+was I. I am not quite impossible, am I? Don't these friends of yours like
+me, don't they find something worth while in me? If I were as common, as
+undesirable as Mrs. Tresslyn would have me to be, why do people of your
+kind like me,--take me up, as the saying is? I know that I don't really
+belong, I know I'm not just what they are, but I'm not so awfully
+hopeless, now am I? Isn't Mrs. Fenn a nice woman? Doesn't she go about in
+the smart set?"
+
+She appeared to be pleading with him. He smiled.
+
+"Mrs. Fenn is a very nice woman and a very smart one," he said. "You have
+many exceedingly nice women among your friends. So be of good cheer, if
+that signifies anything to you." He was chaffing her in his most amiable
+way.
+
+"It signifies a lot," she said seriously. "By rights, I suppose, I should
+have gone to the devil. That's what was expected of me, you know. When I
+took all that money from Mrs. Tresslyn, it wasn't for the purpose of
+beating my way to the devil as fast as I could. I took it for an entirely
+different reason: to put myself where I could tell other people to go to
+him if I felt so inclined. I took it so that I could make of myself, if
+possible, the sort of woman that George Tresslyn might have married
+without stirring up a row in the family. I've taken good care of all that
+money. It is well invested. I manage to live and dress on the income.
+Rather decent of me, isn't it? Surprisingly decent, you might say, eh?"
+
+"Surprisingly," he agreed, smiling.
+
+"What George Tresslyn needs, Dr. Thorpe, is something to work for,
+something to make work an object to him. What has he got to work for now?
+Nothing, absolutely nothing. He's merely keeping up appearances, and he'll
+never get anywhere in God's world until he finds out that it's a waste of
+time working for a living that's already provided for him."
+
+Thorpe was impressed by this quaint philosophy. "Would you, in your
+wisdom, mind telling me just what you think George would be capable of
+doing in order to earn a living for two people instead of one?"
+
+She looked at him in surprise. "Why, isn't he big and strong and hasn't he
+a brain and a pair of hands? What more can a man require in this little
+old age? A big, strapping fellow doesn't have to sit down and say 'What in
+heaven's name am I to do with these things that God has given me?' Doesn't
+a blacksmith earn enough for ten sometimes, and how about the carpenter,
+the joiner and the man who brings the ice? Didn't I earn a living up to
+the time I burnt my fingers and had to be pensioned for dishonourable
+service? It didn't take much strength or intelligence to demonstrate
+mustard, did it? And you sit there and ask me what George is capable of
+doing! Why, he could do _anything_ if he had to."
+
+"You are really a very wonderful person," said he, with conviction. "I
+believe you could have made a man of George if you'd had the chance."
+
+She looked down. "I suppose the world thinks I made him what he is now, so
+what's the use speculating? Let's talk about you for awhile. Miss McKane
+won't be back for a few minutes, so let's chat some more. Didn't I hear
+you tell her yesterday that you expect to leave for London about the
+first?"
+
+"If you are up and about," said he.
+
+She hesitated, a slight frown on her brow. "Do you know that you are pale
+and tired-looking, Dr. Thorpe? Have you looked in the glass at yourself
+lately?"
+
+"Regularly," he said, forcing a smile. "I shave once a day, and I--"
+
+"I'm serious. You don't look happy. You may confide in me, Doctor. I think
+you ought to talk to some one about it. Are you still in love with Miss
+Tresslyn? Is that what's taking the colour out--"
+
+"I am not in love with Miss Tresslyn," he said, meeting her gaze steadily.
+"That is all over. I will confess that I have been dreadfully hurt,
+terribly shocked. A man doesn't get over such things easily or quickly. I
+will not pretend that I am happy. So, if that explains my appearance to
+you, Mrs. Tresslyn, we'll say no more about it."
+
+Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, I'm sorry if I've--if I've meddled,--if
+I've been too--"
+
+"Don't worry," he broke in quickly. "I don't in the least mind. In fact,
+I'm glad you gave me the opportunity to say in so many words that I do not
+love her. I've never said it before. I'm glad that I have said it. It
+helps, after all."
+
+"You'll be happy yet," she sniffled. "I know you will. The world is full
+of good, noble women, and there's one somewhere who will make you glad
+that this thing has happened to you. Now, we'll change the subject. Miss
+McKane may pop in at any moment, you know. Have you any new patients?"
+
+He smiled again. "No. You are my sole and only, Mrs. Fenn can't persuade
+Rumsey to have a thing done to him, and Simmy Dodge refuses to break his
+neck for scientific purposes, so I've given up hope. I shall take no more
+cases. In a year I may come back from London and then I'll go snooping
+about for nice little persons like you who--"
+
+"Simmy Dodge says you are not living at your grandfather's house any
+longer," she broke, irrelevantly.
+
+"I am at a hotel," he said, and no more.
+
+"I see," she said, frowning very darkly for her.
+
+He studied her face for a moment, and then arose from the chair beside her
+bed. "You may be interested to hear that while I am invited to attend the
+wedding to-morrow afternoon I shall not be there," he said, divining her
+thoughts.
+
+"I didn't like to ask," she said. The nurse came into the room. "He says
+I'm doing as well as could be expected, Miss McKane," she said glibly,
+"and if nothing unforeseen happens I'll be dodging automobiles in Fifth
+Avenue inside of two weeks. Good-bye, Doctor."
+
+"Good-bye. I'll look in to-morrow--afternoon," he said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The marriage of Anne Tresslyn and Templeton Thorpe took place at the home
+of the bridegroom at four o'clock on the afternoon of the twenty-third. A
+departure from the original plans was made imperative at the eleventh hour
+by the fact that Mr. Thorpe had been quite ill during the night. His
+condition was in no sense alarming, but the doctors announced that a
+postponement of the wedding was unavoidable unless the ceremony could be
+held in the Thorpe home instead of at Mrs. Tresslyn's as originally
+planned. Moreover, the already heavily curtailed list of guests would have
+to be narrowed to even smaller proportions. The presence of so many as the
+score of selected guests might prove to be hazardous in view of the old
+gentleman's state of nerves, not to say health. Mr. Thorpe was able to be
+up and about with the aid of the imperturbable Wade, but he was
+exceedingly irascible and hard to manage. He was annoyed with Braden. When
+the strange illness came early in the night, he sent out for his grandson.
+He wanted him to be there if anything serious was to result from the
+stroke,--he persisted in calling it a stroke, scornfully describing his
+attack as a "rush of blood to the head from a heart that had been squeezed
+too severely by old Father Time." Braden was not to be found. What annoyed
+Mr. Thorpe most was the young man's unaccountable disposition to desert
+him in his hour of need. In his querulous tirade, he described his
+grandson over and over again as an ingrate, a traitor, a good-for-nothing
+without the slightest notion of what an obligation means.
+
+He did not know, and was not to know for many days, that his grandson had
+purposely left town with the determination not to return until the ill-
+mated couple were well on their way to the Southland, where the ludicrous
+honeymoon was to be spent. And so it was that the old family doctor had to
+be called in to take charge of Mr. Thorpe in place of the youngster on
+whom he had spent so much money and of whom he expected such great and
+glorious things.
+
+He would not listen to a word concerning a postponement. Miss Tresslyn was
+called up on the telephone by Wade at eight o'clock in the morning, and
+notified of the distressing situation. What was to be done? At first no
+one seemed to know what _could_ be done, and there was a tremendous flurry
+that for the time being threatened to deprive Mr. Thorpe of a mother-in-
+law before the time set for her to actually become one. Doctors were
+summoned to revive the prostrated Mrs. Tresslyn. She went all to pieces,
+according to reports from the servants' hall. In an hour's time, however,
+she was herself once more, and then it was discovered that a postponement
+was the last thing in the world to be considered in a crisis of such
+magnitude. Hasty notes were despatched hither and thither; caterers and
+guests alike were shunted off with scant ceremony; chauffeurs were
+commandeered and motors confiscated; everybody was rushing about in
+systematic confusion, and no one paused to question the commands of the
+distracted lady who rose sublimely to the situation. So promptly and
+effectually was order substituted for chaos that when the clock in Mr.
+Thorpe's drawing-room struck the hour of four, exactly ten people were
+there and two of them were facing a minister of the gospel,--one in an arm
+chair with pillows surrounding him, the other standing tall and slim and
+as white as the driven snow beside him....
+
+Late that night, Mr. George Tresslyn came upon Simmy Dodge in the buffet
+at the Plaza.
+
+"Well, you missed it," he said thickly. His high hat was set far back on
+his head and his face was flushed.
+
+"Come over here in the corner," said Simmy, with discernment, "and for
+heaven's sake don't talk above a whisper."
+
+"Whisper?" said George, annoyed. "What do I want to whisper for? I don't
+want to whisper, Simmy. I never whisper. I hate to hear people whisper. I
+refuse to whisper to anybody."
+
+Simmy took him by the arm and led him to a table in a corner remote from
+others that were occupied.
+
+"Maybe you'd rather go for a drive in the Park," he said engagingly.
+
+"Nonsense! I've been driven all day, Simmy. I don't want to be driven any
+more. I'm tired, that's what's the matter with me. Dog-tired, understand?
+Have a drink? Here, boy!"
+
+"Thanks, George, I don't care for a drink. No, not for me, thank you.
+Strictly on the wagon, you know. Better let it alone yourself. Take my
+advice, George. You're not a drinking man and you can't stand it."
+
+George glowered at him for a moment, and then let his eyes fall. "Guess
+you're right, Simmy. I've had enough. Never mind, waiter. First time I've
+been like this in a mighty long time, Simmy. But don't think I'm
+celebrating, because I ain't. I'm drowning something, that's all." He was
+almost in tears by this time. "I can't help thinking about her standin'
+there beside that old--Oh, Lord! I can't talk about it."
+
+"That's right," said Simmy, persuasively. "I wouldn't if I were you. Come
+along with me. I'll walk home with you, George. A good night's rest will
+put--"
+
+"Rest? My God, Simmy, I'm never going to rest again, not even in my grave.
+Say, do you know who I blame for all this business? Do you?"
+
+"Sh!"
+
+"I won't shoosh! I blame myself. I am to blame and no one else. If I'd
+been any kind of a man I'd have put my foot down--just like that--and
+stopped the thing. That's what I'd have done if I'd been a man, Simmy. And
+instead of stoppin' it, do you know what I did? I went down there and
+stood up with old Thorpe as his best man. Can you beat that? His best man!
+My God! Wait a minute. See, he was sittin' just like you are--lean back a
+little and drop your chin--and I was standing right here, see--on this side
+of him. Just like this. And over here was Anne--oh, Lord! And here was
+Katherine Browne,--best maid, you know,--I mean maid of honour. Standin'
+just like this, d'you see? And then right in front here was the preacher.
+Say, where do all these preachers come from? I've never seen that feller
+in all my life, and still they say he's an old friend of the family. Fine
+business for a preacher to be in, wasn't it? Fi-ine bus-i-ness! He ought
+to have been ashamed of himself. By Gosh, come to think of it, I believe
+he was worse than I. He might have got out of it if he'd tried. He looked
+like a regular man, and I'm nothing but a fish-worm."
+
+"Not so loud, George, for heaven's sake. You don't want all these men in
+here to--"
+
+"Right you are, Simmy, right you are. I'm one of the fellers that talks
+louder than anybody else and thinks he's as big as George Washington
+because he's got a bass voice." He lowered his voice to a hoarse, raucous
+whisper and went on. "And mother stood over there, see,--right about where
+that cuspidor is,--and looked at the preacher all the time. Watchin' to see
+that he kept his face straight, I suppose. Couple of old rummies standin'
+back there where that table is, all dressed up in Prince Alberts and
+shaved within an inch of their lives. Lawyers, I heard afterwards. Old
+Mrs. Browne and Doc. Bates stood just behind me. Now you have it, just as
+it was. Curtains all down and electric lights going full blast. It
+wouldn't have been so bad if the lights had been out. Couldn't have seen
+old Tempy, for one thing, and Anne's face for another. I'll never forget
+Anne's face." His own face was now as white as chalk and convulsed with
+genuine emotion.
+
+Simmy was troubled. There was that about George Tresslyn that suggested a
+subsequent catastrophe. He was in no mood to be left to himself. There was
+the despairing look of the man who kills in his eyes, but who kills only
+himself.
+
+"See here, George, let's drop it now. Don't go on like this. Come along,
+do. Come to my rooms and I'll make you comfortable for the--"
+
+But George was not through with his account of the wedding. He
+straightened up and, gritting his teeth, went on with the story. "Then
+there were the responses, Simmy,--the same that we had, Lutie and I,--just
+the same, only they sounded queer and awful and strange to-day. Only young
+people ought to get married, Simmy. It doesn't seem so rotten when young
+people lie like that to each other. Before I really knew what had happened
+the preacher had pronounced them husband and wife, and there I stood like
+a block of marble and held my peace when he asked if any one knew of a
+just cause why they shouldn't be joined in holy wedlock. I never even
+opened my lips. Then everybody rushed up and congratulated Anne! And
+kissed her, and made all sorts of horrible noises over her. And then what
+do you think happened? Old Tempy up and practically ordered everybody out
+of the house. Said he was tired and wanted to be left alone. 'Good-bye,'
+he said, just like that, right in our faces--right in mother's face, and
+the preacher's, and old Mrs. Browne's. You could have heard a pin drop.
+'Good-bye,' that's what he said, and then, will you believe it, he turned
+to one of the pie-faced lawyers and said to him: 'Will you turn over that
+package to my wife, Mr. Hollenback?' and then he says to that man of his:
+'Wade, be good enough to hand Mr. Tresslyn the little acknowledgment for
+his services?' Then and there, that lawyer gave Anne a thick envelope and
+Wade gave me a little box,--a little bit of a box that I wish I'd kept to
+bury the old skinflint in. It would be just about his size. I had it in my
+vest pocket for awhile. 'Wade, your arm,' says he, and then with what he
+probably intended to be a sweet smile for Anne, he got to his feet and
+went out of the room, holding his side and bending over just as if he was
+having a devil of time to keep from laughing out loud. I heard the doctor
+say something about a pain there, but I didn't pay much attention. What do
+you think of that? Got right up and left his guests, his bride and
+everybody standing there like a lot of goops. His bride, mind you. I'm
+dead sure that so-called stroke of his was all a bluff. He just put one
+over on us, that's all. Wasn't any more sick than I am. Didn't you hear
+about the stroke? Stroke of luck, I'd call it. And say, what do you think
+he gave me as a little acknowledgment for my services? Look! Feast your
+eyes upon it!" He turned back the lapel of his coat and fumbled for a
+moment before extracting from the cloth a very ordinary looking scarf-pin,
+a small aqua-marine surrounded by a narrow rim of pearls. "Great, isn't
+it? Magnificent tribute! You could get a dozen of 'em for fifty dollars.
+That's what I got for being best man at my sister's funeral, and, by God,
+it's more than I deserved at that. He had me sized up properly, I'll say
+that for him."
+
+He bowed his head dejectedly, his lips working in a sort of spasmodic
+silence. Dodge eyed him with a curious, new-born commiseration. The boy's
+self-abasement, his misery, his flouting of his own weakness were not
+altogether the result of maudlin reaction. He presented a combination of
+manliness and effectiveness that perplexed and irritated Simeon Dodge. He
+did not want to feel sorry for him and yet he could not help doing so.
+George's broad shoulders and splendid chest were heaving under the strain
+of a genuine, real emotion. Drink was not responsible for his present
+estimate of himself; it had merely opened the gates to expression.
+
+Simmy's scrutiny took in the fine, powerful body of this incompetent
+giant,--for he was a giant to Simmy,--and out of his appraisal grew a fresh
+complaint against the Force that fashions men with such cruel
+inconsistency. What would not he perform if he were fashioned like this
+splendid being? Why had God given to George Tresslyn all this strength and
+beauty, to waste and abuse, when He might have divided His gifts with a
+kindlier hand? To what heights of attainment in all the enterprises of man
+would not he have mounted if Nature had but given to him the shell that
+George Tresslyn occupied? And why should Nature have put an incompetent,
+useless dweller into such a splendid house when he would have got on just
+as well or better perhaps in an insignificant body like his own?
+Proportions were wrong, outrageously wrong, grieved Simmy as he studied
+the man who despised the strength God had given him. And down in his
+honest, despairing soul, Simmy Dodge was saying to himself that he would
+cheerfully give all of his wealth, all of his intelligence, all of his
+prospects, in exchange for a physical body like George Tresslyn's. He
+would court poverty for the privilege of enjoying other triumphs along the
+road to happiness.
+
+"Why don't you say something?" demanded George, suddenly looking up. "Call
+me whatever you please, Simmy; I'll not resent it. Hang it all, I'll let
+you kick me if you want to. Wouldn't you like to, Simmy?"
+
+"Lord love you, no, my boy," cried the other, reaching out and laying a
+hand on George's shoulder. "See here, George, there's a great deal more to
+you than you suspect. You've got everything that a man ought to have
+except one thing, and you can get that if you make up your mind to go
+after it."
+
+"What's that?" said George, vaguely interested.
+
+"Independence," said Simmy. "Do you know what I'd do if I had that body
+and brain of yours?"
+
+"Yes," said George promptly. "You'd go out and lick the world, Simmy,
+because you're that kind of a feller. You've got character, you have.
+You've got self-respect, and ideals, and nerve. I ought to have been put
+into your body and you into mine."
+
+Simmy winced. "Strike out for yourself, George. Be somebody. Buck up,
+and--"
+
+George sagged back into the chair as he gloomily interrupted the speaker.
+"That's all very fine, Simmy, that sort of talk, but I'm not in the mood
+to listen to it now. I wasn't through telling you about the wedding. Where
+was I when I stopped? Oh, yes, the scarf-pin. Hey, waiter! Come here a
+second."
+
+A waiter approached. With great solemnity George arose and grasped him by
+the shoulder, and a moment later had removed the nickel-plated badge from
+the man's lapel. The waiter was tolerant. He grinned. It was what he was
+expected to do under the circumstances. But he was astonished by the next
+act of the tall young man in evening clothes. George proceeded to jam the
+scarf-pin into the fellow's coat where the badge of service had rested the
+instant before. Then, with Simmy looking on in disgust, he pinned the
+waiter's badge upon his own coat. "There!" he said, with a sneer. "That is
+supposed to make a gentleman of you, and this makes a man of me. On your
+way, gentleman! I--"
+
+"For heaven's sake, George," cried Simmy, arising. "Don't be an ass." He
+took the tag from Tresslyn's coat and handed it back to the waiter. "Give
+him the scarf-pin if you like, old man, but don't rob him of his badge of
+honour. He earns an honest living with that thing, you know."
+
+George sat down. He was suddenly abashed. "What an awful bounder you must
+think I am, Simmy."
+
+"Nonsense. You're a bit tight, that's all." He slipped the waiter a bank-
+note and motioned him away. "Now, let's go home, George."
+
+"Yes, sir; he turned and walked out of the room, leaving all of us
+standing there," muttered George, with a mental leap backward. "I'll never
+forget it, long as I live. He simply scorned the whole lot of us. I went
+away as quickly as I could, but the others beat me to it. I left mother
+and Anne there all alone, just wandering around the room as if they were
+half-stunned. Never, never will I forget Anne's white, scared face, and
+I've never seen mother so helpless, either. Anne gripped, that big
+envelope so tight that it crumpled up into almost nothing. Mother took it
+away from her and opened it. Nobody was there but us three. I shan't tell
+you what was in the envelope. I'm not drunk enough for that."
+
+"Never mind. It's immaterial, in any event." Simmy had called for his
+check.
+
+George's mind took a new twist. Suddenly he sprang to his feet. "By the
+way, before I forget it, do you know where I can find Braden Thorpe?"
+
+A black scowl disfigured his face. There was an ugly, ominous glare in his
+fast clearing eyes. Simmy, coming no higher than his shoulder, linked his
+arm through one of George's and started toward the door with him. He was
+headed for the porters' entrance.
+
+"He's out of town, George. Don't bother about Braden."
+
+"I'm going to kill Brady Thorpe, Simmy," said George hoarsely. Simmy felt
+the big right arm swell and become as rigid as steel.
+
+"Don't talk like a fool," he whispered.
+
+"He didn't act right by Anne," said George. "He's got to account to me.
+He's--"
+
+They were in the narrow hallway by this time. Simmy called to a porter.
+
+"Get me a taxi, will you?"
+
+"I say he didn't act right by Anne. It's his fault that she--Let go my arm,
+Simmy!" He gave it a mighty wrench.
+
+"All right," said Simmy, maintaining his equilibrium with some difficulty
+after the jerk he had received. "Don't you want me to be your friend,
+George?"
+
+George glared at him, and then broke into a shamed, foolish laugh.
+"Forgive me, Simmy. Of course, I want you as my friend. I depend upon
+you."
+
+"Then stop this talk about going after Braden. In heaven's name, you kid,
+what has he done to you or Anne? He's the one who deserves sympathy and--"
+
+"I've got it in for him because he's a coward and a skunk," explained
+George, lowering his voice with praiseworthy consideration. "You see, it's
+just this way, Simmy. He didn't do the right thing by Anne. He ought to
+have come back here and _made_ her marry him. That's where he's to blame.
+He ought to have gone right up to the house and grabbed her by the throat
+and choked her till she gave in and went with him to a justice-of-the-
+peace or something. He owed it to her, Simmy,--he was in duty bound to save
+her. If he hadn't been a sneakin' coward, he'd have choked her till she
+was half-dead and then she would have gone with him gladly. Women like a
+brave man. They like to be choked and beaten and--"
+
+Simmy laughed. "Do you call it bravery to choke a woman into submission,
+and drag her off to--"
+
+"I call it cowardice to give up the woman you love if she loves you," said
+George. "I know what I'm talking about, too, because I'm one of the
+sneakingest cowards on earth. What do you think of me, Simmy? What does
+everybody think of me? Wouldn't call me a brave man, would you?"
+
+"The cases are not parallel. Braden's case is different. He couldn't force
+Anne to--"
+
+"See here, Simmy," broke in George, wonderingly, "I hadn't noticed it
+before, but, by giminy, I believe you're tipsy. You've been drinking,
+Simmy. No sober man would talk as you do. When you sober up, you'll think
+just as I do,--and that is that Brady Thorpe ought to have been a man when
+he had the chance. He ought to have stuck his fist under Anne's nose and
+said 'Come on, or I'll smash you,' and she'd have gone with him like a
+little lamb, and she'd have loved him a hundred times more than she ever
+loved him before. He didn't do the right thing by her, Simmy. He didn't,
+curse him, and I'll never forgive him. I'm going to wring his neck, so
+help me Moses. I've been a coward just as long as I intend to be. Take a
+good look at me, Simmy. If you watch closely you may see me turning into a
+man."
+
+"Get in," said Simmy, pushing him toward the door of the taxi-cab. "A
+little sleep is what you need."
+
+"And say, there's another thing I've got to square up with Brady Thorpe,"
+protested George, holding back. "He took Lutie up there to that beastly
+hospital and slashed her open, curse him. A poor, helpless little girl
+like that! Call that brave? Sticking a knife into Lutie? He's got to
+settle with me for that, too."
+
+And then Simmy understood.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+Much may happen in a year's time. The history of the few people involved
+in the making of this narrative presents but few new aspects, and yet
+there is now to be disclosed an unerring indication of great and perhaps
+enduring changes in the lives of every one concerned.
+
+To begin with, Templeton Thorpe, at the age of seventy-eight, is lying at
+the edge of his grave. On the day of his marriage with Anne Tresslyn, he
+put down his arms in the long and hopeless conflict with an enemy that
+knows no pity, a foe so supremely confident that man has been powerless to
+do more than devise a means to temporarily check its relentless fury. The
+thing in Mr. Thorpe's side was demanding the tolls of victory. There was
+no curbing its wrath: neither the soft nor the harsh answer of science had
+served to turn it away. The hand with the gleaming, keen-edged knife had
+been offered against it again and again, but the stroke had never fallen,
+for always there stood between it and the surgeon who would slay the
+ravager, the resolute fear of Templeton Thorpe. Time there was when the
+keen-edged knife might have vanquished or at least deprived it of its
+early venom, but the body of a physical coward housed it and denied
+admittance to all-comers. Templeton Thorpe did not fear death. He wanted
+to die, he implored his Maker to become his Destroyer. The torture of a
+slow, inevitable death, however, was as nothing to the horror of the knife
+that is sharp and cold.
+
+When he went upstairs with Wade on that memorable twenty-third of March,
+he said to his enemy: "Be quick, that's all I ask of you," and then
+prepared to wait as patiently as he could for the friendly end.
+
+From that day on, he was to the eyes of the world what he had long been to
+himself in secret: a sick man without hope. Weeks passed before his bride
+recognised the revolting truth, and when she came to know that he was
+doomed her pity was _so_ vast that she sickened under its weight. She had
+come prepared to see him die, as all men do when they have lived out their
+time, but she had not counted on seeing him die like this, with suffering
+in his bleak old eyes and a smile of derision on his pallid lips.
+
+Old Templeton Thorpe's sufferings were for himself, and he guarded them
+jealously with all the fortitude he could command. His irascibility
+increased with his determination to fight it out alone. He disdained every
+move on her part to extend sympathy and help to him. To her credit, be it
+said, she would have become his nurse and consoler if he had let down the
+bars,--not willingly, of course, but because there was in Anne Thorpe,
+after all, the heart of a woman, and of such it must be said there is
+rarely an instance where its warmth has failed to respond to the call of
+human suffering. She would have tried to help him, she would have tried to
+do her part. But he was grim, he was resolute. She could not bridge the
+gulf that lay between them. His profound tolerance did not deceive her; it
+was scorn of the most poignant character.
+
+Braden was in Europe. He was expected in New York by the middle of March.
+His grandfather would not consent to his being sent for, although it was
+plain to be seen that he lived only for the young man's return.
+
+Anne had once suggested, timorously, that Braden's place was at the
+sufferer's bedside, but the smile that the old man bestowed upon her was
+so significant, so full of understanding, that she shrank within herself
+and said no more. She knew, however, that he longed for the sustaining
+hand of his only blood relation, that he looked upon himself as utterly
+alone in these last few weeks of life; and yet he would not send out the
+appeal that lay uppermost in his thoughts. In his own good time Braden
+would come back and there would be perhaps' one long, farewell grip of the
+hand.
+
+After that, ironic peace.
+
+He could not be cured himself, but he wanted to be sure that Braden was
+cured before he passed away. He knew that his grandson would not come home
+until the last vestige of love and respect for Anne Tresslyn was gone; not
+until he was sure that his wound had healed beyond all danger of bleeding
+again. Mr. Thorpe was satisfied that he had served his grandson well. He
+was confident that the young man would thank him on his death-bed for
+turning the hand of fate in the right direction, so that it pointed to
+contentment and safety. Therefore, he felt himself justified in forbidding
+any one to acquaint Braden of the desperate condition into which he had
+fallen. He insisted that no word be sent to him, and, as in all things,
+the singular power of old Templeton Thorpe prevailed over the forces that
+were opposed. Letters came to him infrequently from the young
+man,--considerate, formal letters in which he never failed to find the
+touch of repressed gratitude that inspired the distant writer. Soon he
+would be coming home to "set up for himself." Soon he would be fighting
+the battle of life on the field that no man knew and yet was traversed by
+all.
+
+Dr. Bates and the eminent surgeons who came to see the important invalid,
+discussed among themselves, but never in the presence of Mr. Thorpe, the
+remarkable and revolutionary articles that had been appearing of late in
+one of the medical journals over the signature of Braden Thorpe. There
+were two articles, one in answer to a savage, denunciatory communication
+that had been drawn out by the initial contribution from the pen of young
+Thorpe.
+
+In his first article, Braden had deliberately taken a stand in favour of
+the merciful destruction of human life in cases where suffering is
+unendurable and the last chance for recovery or even relief is lost. He
+had the courage, the foolhardiness to sign his name to the article,
+thereby irrevocably committing himself to the propaganda. A storm of
+sarcasm ensued. The great surgeons of the land ignored the article,
+amiably attributing it to a "young fool who would come to his senses one
+day." Young and striving men in the profession rushed into print,--or at
+least tried to do so,--with the result that Braden was excoriated by a
+thousand pens. Only one of these efforts was worthy of notice, and it
+inspired a calm, dispassionate rejoinder from young Thorpe, who merely
+called attention to the fact that he was not trying to "make murderers out
+of God's commissioners," but was on the other hand advocating a plan by
+which they might one day,--a far-off day, no doubt,--extend by Man's law,
+the same mercy to the human being that is given to the injured beast.
+
+Anne was shocked one day by a callous observation on the lips of old Dr.
+Bates, a sound practitioner and ordinarily as gentle as the average family
+doctor one hears so much about. Mr. Thorpe was in greater pain than usual
+that day. Opiates were of little use in these cruel hours. It was now
+impossible to give him an amount sufficient to produce relief without
+endangering the life that hung by so thin a thread.
+
+"I suppose this excellent grandson of his would say that Mr. Thorpe ought
+to be killed forthwith, and put out of his misery," said the doctor,
+discussing his patient's condition with the young wife in the library
+after a long visit upstairs.
+
+Anne started violently. "What do you mean by that, Dr. Bates?" she
+inquired, after a moment in which she managed to subdue her agitation.
+
+"Perhaps I shouldn't have said it," apologised the old physician, really
+distressed. "I did it quite thoughtlessly, my dear Mrs. Thorpe. I forgot
+that you do not read the medical journals."
+
+"Oh, I know what Braden has always preached," she said hurriedly. "But it
+never--it never occurred to me that--" She did not complete the sentence. A
+ghastly pallor had settled over her face.
+
+"That his theory might find application to the case upstairs?" supplied
+the doctor. "Of course it would be unthinkable. Very stupid of me to have
+spoken of it."
+
+Anne leaned forward in her chair. "Then you regard Mr. Thorpe's case as
+one that might be included in Braden's--" Again she failed to complete a
+sentence.
+
+"Yes, Mrs. Thorpe," said Dr. Bates gravely. "If young Braden's pet theory
+were in practice now, your husband would be entitled to the mercy he
+prescribes."
+
+"He has no chance?"
+
+"Absolutely no chance."
+
+"All there is left for him is to just go on suffering until--until life
+wears out?"
+
+"We are doing everything in our power to alleviate the
+suffering,--everything that is known to science," he vouchsafed. "We can do
+no more."
+
+"How long will he live, Dr. Bates?" she asked, and instantly shrank from
+the fear that he would misinterpret her interest.
+
+"No man can answer that question, Mrs. Thorpe. He may live a week, he may
+live six months. I give him no more than two."
+
+"And if he were to consent to the operation that you once advised, what
+then?"
+
+"That was a year ago. I would not advise an operation now. It is too late.
+In fact, I would be opposed to it. There are men in my profession who
+would take the chance, I've no doubt,--men who would risk all on the
+millionth part of a chance."
+
+"You think he would die on the operating table?"
+
+"Perhaps,--and perhaps not. That isn't the point. It would be useless,
+that's all."
+
+"Then why isn't Braden's theory sound and humane?" she demanded sharply.
+
+He frowned. "It is humane, Mrs. Thorpe," said he gravely, "but it isn't
+sound. I grant you that there is not one of us who would not rejoice in
+the death of a man in Mr. Thorpe's condition, but there is not one who
+would deliberately take his life."
+
+"It is all so cruel, so horribly cruel," she said. "The savages in the
+heart of the jungle can give us lessons in humanity."
+
+"I daresay," said he. "By the same reasoning, is it wise for us to receive
+lessons in savagery from them?"
+
+Anne was silent for a time. She felt called upon to utter a defence for
+Braden but hesitated because she could not choose her words. At last she
+spoke. "I have known Braden Thorpe all my life, Dr. Bates. He is sincere
+on this question. I think you might grant him that distinction."
+
+"Lord love you, madam, I haven't the faintest doubt as to his sincerity,"
+cried the old doctor. "He is voicing the sentiment of every honest man in
+my profession, but he overlooks the fact that sentiment has a very small
+place among the people we serve,--in other words, the people who love life
+and employ us to preserve it for them, even against the will of God."
+
+"They say that soldiers on the field of battle sometimes mercifully put an
+end to the lives of their mutilated comrades," she mused aloud.
+
+"And they make it their business to put an end to the lives of the
+perfectly sound and healthy men who confront them on that same field of
+battle," he was quick to return. "There is a wide distinction between a
+weapon and an instrument, Mrs. Thorpe, and there is just as much
+difference between the inspired soldier and the uninspired doctor, or
+between impulse and decision."
+
+"I believe that Mr. Thorpe would welcome death," said she.
+
+Dr. Bates shook his head. "My dear, if that were true he could obtain
+relief from his suffering to-day,--this very hour."
+
+"What do you mean?" she cried, with a swift shudder, as one suddenly
+assailed by foreboding.
+
+"There is a very sharp razor blade on his dressing-table," said Dr. Bates
+with curious deliberation. "Besides that, there is sufficient poison in
+four of those little--But there, I must say no more. You are alarmed,--and
+needlessly. He will not take his own life, you may be sure of that. By
+reaching out his hand he can grasp death, and he knows it. A month ago I
+said this to him: 'Mr. Thorpe, I must ask you to be very careful. If you
+do not sleep well to-night, take one of these tablets. If one does not
+give you relief, you may take another, but no more. Four of them would
+mean certain, almost instant death.' For more than a month that little box
+of tablets has lain at his elbow, so to speak. Death has been within reach
+all this time. Those tablets are still there, Mrs. Thorpe, so now you
+understand."
+
+"Yes," she said, staring at him as if fascinated; "they are still there. I
+understand."
+
+The thick envelope that Mr. Hollenback handed to Anne on the day of her
+wedding contained a properly executed assignment of securities amounting
+to two million dollars, together with an order to the executors under his
+will to pay in gold to her immediately after his death an amount
+sufficient to cover any shrinkage that may have occurred in the value of
+the bonds by reason of market fluctuations. In plain words, she was to
+have her full two millions. There was also an instrument authorising a
+certain Trust Company to act as depository for these securities, all of
+which were carefully enumerated and classified, with instructions to
+collect and pay to her during his lifetime the interest on said bonds. At
+his death the securities were to be delivered to her without recourse to
+the courts, and were to be free of the death tax, which was to be paid
+from the residue of the estate. There was a provision, however, that she
+was to pay the state, city and county taxes on the full assessed value of
+these bonds during his lifetime, and doubtless by premeditation on his
+part all of them were subject to taxation. This unsuspected "joker" in the
+arrangements was frequently alluded to by Anne's mother as a "direct slap
+in the face," for, said she, it was evidently intended as a reflection
+upon the Tresslyns who, as a family, it appears, were very skilful in
+avoiding the payment of taxes of any description. (It was a notorious fact
+that the richest of the Tresslyns was little more than a mendicant when
+the time came to take his solemn oath concerning taxable possessions.)
+
+Anne took a most amazing stand in respect to the interest on these bonds.
+Her income from them amounted to something over ninety thousand dollars a
+year, for Mr. Thorpe's investments were invariably sound and sure. He
+preferred a safe four or four and a half per cent, bond to an "attractive
+six." With the coming of each month in the year, Anne was notified by the
+Trust Company that anywhere from seven to eight thousand dollars had been
+credited to her account in the bank. She kept her own private account in
+another bank, and it was against this that she drew her checks. She did
+not withdraw a dollar of the interest arising from her matrimonial
+investment!
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn, supremely confident and self-assured, sustained the
+greatest shock of her life when she found that Anne was behaving in this
+quixotic manner about the profits of the enterprise. At first she could
+not believe her ears. But Anne was obdurate, She maintained that her
+contract called for two million dollars and no more, and she refused to
+consider this extraneous accumulation as rightfully her own. Her mother
+berated her without effect. She subjected her to countless attacks from as
+many angles, but Anne was as "hard as nails."
+
+"I'm not earning this ninety thousand a year, mother," she declared hotly,
+"and I shall not accept it as a gift. If I were Mr. Thorpe's wife in every
+sense of the term, it might be different, but as you happen to know I am
+nothing more than a figure of speech in his household. I am not even his
+nurse, nor his housekeeper, nor his friend. He despises me. I despise
+myself, for that matter, so he's not quite alone in his opinion. I've sold
+myself for a price, mother, but you must at least grant me the privilege
+of refusing to draw interest on my infamy."
+
+"Infamy!" gasped Mrs. Tresslyn. "Infamy? What rot,--what utter rot!"
+
+"Just the same, I shall confine myself to the original bargain. It is bad
+enough. I shan't make it any worse by taking money that doesn't belong to
+me."
+
+"Those bonds are yours," snapped Mrs. Tresslyn. "You are certainly
+entitled to the interest. You--"
+
+"They are _not_ mine," returned Anne decisively. "Not until Mr. Thorpe is
+dead, if you please. I am to have my pay after he has passed away, no
+sooner. That was the bargain."
+
+"You did not hesitate to accept some rather expensive pearls if I remember
+correctly," said Mrs. Tresslyn bitingly.
+
+"That was his affair, not mine," said Anne coolly. "He despises me so
+thoroughly that he thought he could go beyond his contract and tempt me
+with this interest we are quarrelling about, mother. He was sure that I
+would jump at it as a greedy fish snaps at the bait. But I disappointed
+him. I shall never forget the look of surprise,--no, it was wonder,--that
+came into his eyes when I flatly refused to take this interest. That was
+nearly a year ago. He began to treat me with a little respect after that.
+There is scarcely a month goes by that he does not bring up the subject. I
+think he has never abandoned the hope that I may give in, after all.
+Lately he has taken to chuckling when I make my monthly protest against
+accepting this money. He can't believe it of me. He thinks there is
+something amusing about what I have been foolish enough to call my sense
+of honour. Still, I believe he has a little better opinion of me than he
+had at first. And now, mother, once and for all, let us consider the
+matter closed. I will not take the interest until the principal is
+indisputably mine."
+
+"You are a fool, Anne," said her mother, in her desperation; "a simple,
+ridiculous fool. Why shouldn't you take it? It is yours. You can't afford
+to throw away ninety thousand dollars. The bank has orders to pay it over
+to you, and it is deposited to your account. That ought to settle the
+matter. If it isn't yours, may I enquire to whom does it belong?"
+
+"Time enough to decide that, mother," said Anne, so composedly that Mrs.
+Tresslyn writhed with exasperation. "I haven't quite decided who is to
+have it in the end. You may be sure, however, that I shall give it to some
+worthy cause. It shan't be wasted."
+
+"Do you mean to say that you will give it away--give it to charity?"
+groaned her mother.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+Words failed Mrs. Tresslyn. She could only stare in utter astonishment at
+this incomprehensible creature.
+
+"I may have to ask your advice when the time comes," went on Anne,
+complacently. "You must assist me in selecting the most worthy charity,
+mother dear."
+
+"I suppose it has never occurred to you that there is some justice in the
+much abused axiom that charity begins at home," said Mrs. Tresslyn
+frigidly.
+
+"Not in our home, however," said Anne. "That's where it ends, if it ends
+anywhere."
+
+"I have hesitated to speak to you about it, Anne, but I am afraid I shall
+now have to confess that I am sorely pressed for money," said Mrs.
+Tresslyn deliberately, and from that moment on she never ceased to employ
+this argument in her crusade against Anne's ingratitude.
+
+There was no estrangement. Neither of them could afford to go to such
+lengths. They saw a great deal of each other, and, despite the constant
+bickerings over the idle money, there was little to indicate that they
+were at loggerheads. Mrs. Tresslyn was forced at last to recognise the
+futility of her appeals to Anne's sense of duty, and contented herself
+with occasional bitter references to her own financial distress. She
+couldn't understand the girl, and she gave up trying. As a matter of fact,
+she began to fear that she would never be able to understand either one of
+her children. She could not even imagine how they could have come by the
+extraordinary stubbornness with which they appeared to be afflicted.
+
+As for George Tresslyn, he was going to the dogs as rapidly and as
+accurately as possible. He took to drink, and drink took him to cards. The
+efforts of Simmy Dodge and other friends, including the despised Percy
+Wintermill, were of no avail. He developed a pugnacious capacity for
+resenting advice. It was easy to see what was behind the big boy's
+behaviour: simple despair. He counted himself among the failures. In due
+time he lost his position in Wall Street and became a complaining
+dependent upon his mother's generosity. He met her arguments with the
+furious and constantly reiterated charge that she had ruined his life.
+That was another thing that Mrs. Tresslyn could not understand. How, in
+heaven's name, had she ruined his life?
+
+He took especial delight in directing her attention to the upward progress
+of the discredited Lutie.
+
+That attractive young person, much to Mrs. Tresslyn's disgust, actually
+had insinuated her vulgar presence into comparatively good society, and
+was coming on apace. Blithe, and gay, and discriminating, the former
+"mustard girl" was making a place for herself among the moderately smart
+people. Now and then her name appeared in the society columns of the
+newspapers, where, much to Mrs. Tresslyn's annoyance, she was always
+spoken of as "Mrs. George Dexter Tresslyn." Moreover, in several
+instances, George's mother had found her own name printed next to Lutie's
+in the alphabetical list of guests at rather large entertainments, and
+once,--heaven forfend that it should happen again!--the former "mustard
+girl's" picture was published on the same page of a supplement with that
+of the exclusive Mrs. Tresslyn and her daughter, Mrs. Templeton Thorpe,
+over the caption: "The Tresslyn Triumvirate," supplied by a subsequently
+disengaged art editor.
+
+George came near to being turned out into the street one day when he so
+far forgot himself as to declare that Lutie was worth the whole Tresslyn
+lot put together, and she ought to be thankful she had had "the can tied
+to her" in time. His mother was livid with fury.
+
+"If you ever mention that person's name in this house again, you will have
+to leave it forever. If she's worth anything at all it is because she has
+appropriated the Tresslyn name that you appear to belittle. You--"
+
+"She didn't appropriate it," flared George. "I remember distinctly of
+having given it to her. I don't care what you say or do, mother, she
+deserves a lot of credit. She's made a place for herself, she's decent,
+she's clever--"
+
+"She hasn't earned a place for herself, let me remind you, sir. She made
+it out of the proceeds of a sale, the sale of a husband. Don't forget,
+George, that she sold you for so much cash."
+
+"A darned good bargain," said he, "seeing that she got me at my own
+value,--which was nothing at all."
+
+Lutie went on her way serenely, securely. If she had a thought for George
+Tresslyn she succeeded very well in keeping it to herself. Men would have
+made love to her, but she denied them that exquisite distraction. Back in
+her mind lurked something that guaranteed immunity.
+
+The year had dealt its changes to Lutie as well as to the others, but they
+were not important. Discussing herself frankly with Simmy Dodge one
+evening, she said:
+
+"I'm getting on, am I not, Simmy? But, after all, why shouldn't I? I'm a
+rather decent sort, and I'm not a real vulgarian, am I? Like those people
+over there at the next table, I mean. The more I go about, the more I
+realise that class is a matter of acquaintance. If you know the right sort
+of people, and have known them long enough, you unconsciously form habits
+that the other sort of people haven't got, so you're said to have 'class.'
+Of course, you've got to be imitative, you've got to be able to mimic the
+real ones, but that isn't difficult if you're half way bright, don't you
+know."
+
+"Lord love you, Lutie, you don't have to imitate any one," said Simmy.
+"You're in a class by yourself."
+
+"Thanks, Simmy. Don't let any one else at the table hear you say such
+things to me, though. They would think that I'd just come in from the
+country. Why shouldn't I get on? How many of the girls that you meet in
+your day's walk have graduated from a high-school? How many of the great
+ladies who rule New York society possess more than a common school
+education, outside of the tricks they've learned after they put on long
+frocks? Not many, let me tell you, Simmy. Four-fifths of them can't spell
+Connecticut, and they don't know how many e's there are in 'separate.' I
+graduated from a high school in Philadelphia, and my mother did the same
+thing before me. I also played on the basket-ball team, if that means
+anything to you. My parents were poor but respectable, God-fearing people,
+as they say in the novels, and they were quite healthy as parents go in
+these days, when times are hard and children so cheap that nobody's
+without a good sized pack of them. I was born with a brain that was meant
+to be used."
+
+"What are you two talking about so secretively?" demanded Mrs. Rumsey
+Fenn, across the table from them.
+
+"Ourselves, of course," said Lutie. "Bright people always have something
+in reserve, my dear. We save the very best for an extremity. Simmy
+delights in talking about me, and I love to talk about him. It's the
+simplest kind of small talk and doesn't disturb us in the least if we
+should happen to be thinking of something else at the time."
+
+"Have you heard when Braden Thorpe is expected home, Simmy?"
+
+"Had a letter from him yesterday. He sails next week. Is there any
+tinkering to be done for your family this season, Madge? Any little old
+repairs to be made?"
+
+"I'm afraid not," said Mrs. Fenn desolately, "Rumsey positively refuses to
+imagine he's got a pain anywhere, and the baby's tonsils are disgustingly
+healthy."
+
+"Old Templeton Thorpe's in a critical condition, I hear," put in Rumsey
+Fenn. "There'll be a choice widow in the market before long, I pledge
+you."
+
+"Can't they operate?" inquired his wife.
+
+"Not for malignant widows," said Mr. Fenn.
+
+"Oh, don't be silly. I should think old Mr. Thorpe would let Braden
+operate. Just think what a fine boost it would give Braden if the
+operation was a success."
+
+"And also if it failed," said one of the men, sententiously. "He's the
+principal heir, isn't he?"
+
+Simmy scowled. "Brady would be the last man in the world to tackle the
+job," he said, and the subject was dropped at once.
+
+And so the end of the year finds Templeton Thorpe on his death bed, Anne a
+quixotic ingrate, George among the diligently unemployed, Lutie on the
+crest of popularity, Braden in contempt of court, and Mrs. Tresslyn sorely
+tried by the vagaries of each and every one of the aforesaid persons.
+
+Simmy Dodge appears to be the only one among them all who stands just as
+he did at the beginning of the year. He has neither lost nor gained. He
+has merely stood still.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+When Dr. Braden Thorpe arrived in New York City on the fourteenth of March
+he was met at the pier by a horde of newspaper men. For the first time, he
+was made to appreciate "the importance of being earnest." These men,
+through a frequently prompted spokesman, put questions to him that were so
+startling in their boldness that he was staggered by the misconception
+that had preceded him into his home land.
+
+He was asked such questions as these: "But, doctor, would you do that sort
+of thing to a person who was dear to you,--say a wife, a mother or an only
+child?" "How could you be sure that a person was hopelessly afflicted?"
+"Have you ever put this theory of yours into practice on the other side?"
+"How many lives have you taken in this way, doctor,--if it is a fair
+question?" "Do you expect to practise openly in New York?" "And if you do
+practise, how many patients do you imagine would come to you, knowing your
+views?" "How would you kill 'em,--with poison or what?" And so on, almost
+without end.
+
+He was to find that a man can become famous and infamous in a single
+newspaper headline, and as for the accuracy of the interviews there was
+but one thing to be said: the questions were invariably theirs and the
+answers also. He did his best to make them understand that he was merely
+advancing a principle and not practising a crime, that his hand had never
+been brought down to kill, that his heart was quite as tender as any other
+man's, and that he certainly was not advocating murder in any degree. Nor
+was he at present attempting to proselyte.
+
+When he finally escaped the reporters, his brow was wet with the sweat of
+one who finds himself confronted by a superior force and with no means of
+defence. He knew that he was to be assailed by every paper in New York.
+They would tear him to shreds.
+
+Wade was at the pier. He waited patiently in the background while the
+returned voyager dealt with the reporters, appearing abruptly at Braden's
+elbow as he was giving his keys to the inspector.
+
+"Good morning, sir," said Wade, in what must be recorded as a confidential
+tone. He might have been repeating the salutation of yesterday morning for
+all that his manner betrayed.
+
+"Hello, Wade! Glad to see you." Braden shook hands with the man. "How is
+my grandfather?"
+
+"Better, sir," said the other, meaning that his master was more
+comfortable than he had been during the night.
+
+Wade was not as much of an optimist as his reply would seem to indicate.
+It was his habit to hold bad news in reserve as long as possible,
+doubtless for the satisfaction it gave him to dribble it out sparingly. He
+had found it to his advantage to break all sorts of news hesitatingly to
+his master, for he was never by way of knowing what Mr. Thorpe would
+regard as bad news. For example, early in his career as valet, he had
+rushed into Mr. Thorpe's presence with what he had every reason to believe
+would be good news. He had been sent over to the home of Mr. Thorpe's son
+for an important bit of information, and he supplied it by almost shouting
+as he burst into the library: "It's a fine boy, sir,--a splendid ten-
+pounder, sir." But Mr. Thorpe, instead of accepting the good news gladly,
+spoiled everything by anxiously inquiring, "And how is the poor little
+mother getting along?"--a question which caused Wade grave annoyance, for
+he had to reply: "I'm sorry, sir, but she's not expected to live the hour
+out."
+
+All of which goes to show that Mr. Thorpe never regarded any news as good
+without first satisfying himself that it wasn't bad.
+
+"I have the automobile outside, sir," went on Wade, "and I am to look
+after your luggage."
+
+"Thank you, Wade. If you'll just grab these bags and help the porter out
+to the car with them, I'll be greatly obliged. And then you may drop me at
+the Wolcott. I shall stop there for a few days, until I get my bearings."
+
+Wade coughed insinuatingly. "Beg pardon, sir, but I was to fetch you
+straight home."
+
+"Do you mean to my grandfather's?" demanded the young man sharply.
+
+"Yes, sir. Those were the orders."
+
+"Orders to be disobeyed, I fear, Wade," said Braden darkly. "I am not
+going to Mr. Thorpe's house."
+
+"I understand, sir," said Wade patiently. "I quite understand. Still it is
+my duty to report to you that Mr. Thorpe is expecting you."
+
+"Nevertheless, I shall not--"
+
+"Perhaps I should inform you that your grandfather is--er--confined to his
+bed. As a matter of fact, Mr. Braden, he is confined to his death-bed."
+
+Braden was shocked. Later on, as he was being rushed across town in the
+car, he drew from Wade all of the distressing details. He had never
+suspected the truth. Indeed, his grandfather had kept the truth from him
+so successfully that he had come to look upon him as one of the fortunate
+few who arrive at death in the full possession of health, those who die
+because the machinery stops of its own accord. And now the worst possible
+death was stalking his benefactor, driving,--always driving without pity.
+Braden's heart was cold, his face pallid with dread as he hurried up the
+steps to the front door of the familiar old house.
+
+He had forgotten Anne and his vow never to enter the house so long as she
+was mistress of it. He forgot that her freedom was about to become an
+accomplished fact, that the thing she had anticipated was now at hand. He
+had often wondered how long it would be in coming to her, and how she
+would stand up under the strain of the half score of years or more that
+conceivably might be left to the man she had married. There had been times
+when he laughed in secret anticipation of the probabilities that attended
+her unwholesome adventure. Years of it! Years of bondage before she could
+lay hands upon the hard-earned fruits of freedom!
+
+As he entered the hall Anne came out of the library to greet him. There
+was no hesitation on her part, no pretending. She came directly to him,
+her hand extended. He had stopped stock-still on seeing her.
+
+"I am glad you have come, Braden," she said, letting her hand fall to her
+side. Either he had ignored it or was too dismayed to notice it at all.
+"Mr. Thorpe has waited long and patiently for you. I am glad you have
+come."
+
+He was staring at her, transfixed. There was no change in her appearance.
+She was just as he had seen her on that last, never-to-be-forgotten
+day,--the same tall, slender, beautiful Anne. And yet, as he stared, he saw
+something in her eyes that had not been there before: the shadow of fear.
+
+"I must see him immediately," said he, and was at once conscious of a
+regret that he had not first said something kind to her. She had the
+stricken look in her eyes.
+
+"You will find him in his old room," she said quietly. "The nurse is a
+friend of yours, a Miss McKane."
+
+"Thank you." He turned away, but at the foot of the staircase paused. "Is
+there no hope?" he inquired. "Is it as bad as Wade--"
+
+"There is only one hope, Braden," she said, "and that is that he may die
+soon." Curiously, he was not shocked by this remark. He appreciated the
+depth of feeling behind it. She was thinking of Templeton Thorpe, not of
+herself.
+
+"I--I can't tell you how shocked, how grieved I am," he said. "It
+is--terrible."
+
+She drew a few steps nearer. "I want you to feel, Braden, that you are
+free to come and go--and to stay--in this house. I know that you have said
+you would not come here while I am its mistress. I am in no sense its
+mistress. I have no place here. If you prefer not to see me, I shall make
+it possible by remaining in my room. It is only fair that I should speak
+to you at once about--about this. That is why I waited here to see you. I
+may as well tell you that Mr. Thorpe does not expect me to visit his
+room,--in fact, he undoubtedly prefers that I should not do so. I have
+tried to help him. I have done my best, Braden. I want you to know that.
+It is possible that he may tell you as much. Your place is here. You must
+not regard me an obstacle. It will not be necessary for you to communicate
+with me. I shall understand. Dr. Bates keeps me fully informed." She spoke
+without the slightest trace of bitterness.
+
+He heard her to the end without lifting his gaze from the floor. When she
+was through, he looked at her.
+
+"You _are_ the mistress of the house, Anne. I shall not overlook the fact,
+even though you may. If my grandfather wishes me to do so, I shall remain
+here in the house with him--to the end, not simply as his relative, but to
+do what little I can in a professional way. Why was I not informed of his
+condition?" His manner was stern.
+
+"You must ask that question of Mr. Thorpe himself," said she. "As I have
+told you, he is the master of the house. The rules are his, not mine; and,
+by the same token, the commands are his."
+
+He hesitated for a moment. "You might have sent word to me. Why didn't
+you?"
+
+"Because I was under orders," she said steadily. "Mr. Thorpe would not
+allow us to send for you. There was an excellent purpose back of his
+decision to keep you on the other side of the Atlantic until you were
+ready to return of your own accord. I daresay, if you reflect for a
+moment, you will see through his motives."
+
+His eyes narrowed. "There was no cause for apprehension," he said coldly.
+
+"It was something I could not discuss with him, however," she returned,
+"and so I was hardly in a position to advise him. You must believe me,
+Braden, when I say that I am glad for his sake that you are here. He will
+die happily now."
+
+"He has suffered--so terribly?"
+
+"It has been too horrible,--too horrible," she cried, suddenly covering her
+eyes and shivering as with a great chill.
+
+The tears rushed to Braden's eyes. "Poor old granddaddy," he murmured.
+Then, after a second's hesitation, he turned and swiftly mounted the
+stairs.
+
+Anne, watching him from below, was saying to herself, over and over again:
+"He will never forgive me, he will never forgive me." Later on, alone in
+the gloomy library, she sat staring at the curtained window through which
+the daylight came darkly, and passed final judgment upon herself after
+months of indecision: "I have been too sure of myself, too sure of him.
+What a fool I've been to count on a thing that is so easily killed. What a
+fool I've been to go on believing that his love would survive in spite of
+the blow I've given it. I've lost him. I may as well say farewell to the
+silly hope I've been coddling all these months." She frowned as she
+allowed her thoughts to run into another channel. "But they shall not
+laugh at me. I'll play the game out. No whimpering, old girl. Stand up to
+it."
+
+Wade was waiting outside his master's door, his ear cocked as of old. The
+same patient, obsequious smile greeted Braden as he came up.
+
+"He knows you are here, Mr. Braden. I sent in word by the nurse."
+
+"He is conscious?"
+
+"Yes, sir. That's the worst of it. Always conscious, sir."
+
+"Then he can't be as near to death as you think, Wade. He--"
+
+"That's a pity, sir," said Wade frankly. "I was in hopes that it would
+soon be all over for him."
+
+"Am I to go in at once?"
+
+"May I have a word or two with you first, sir?" said Wade, lowering his
+voice to a whisper and sending an uneasy glance over his shoulder. "Come
+this way, sir. It's safer over here. Uncommonly sharp ears he has, sir."
+
+"Well, what is it? I must not be delayed--"
+
+"I shan't keep you a minute, Mr. Braden. It's something I feel I ought to
+tell you. Mr. Thorpe is quite in his right mind, sir, so you'll appreciate
+more fully what a shock his proposition was to me. In a word, Mr. Braden,
+he has offered me a great sum of money if I'll put four of those little
+pills into a glass of water to-night and give it to him to drink. There's
+enough poison in them to kill three men in a flash, sir. My God, Mr.
+Braden, it was--it was terrible!" The man's face was livid.
+
+"A great sum of money--" began Braden dumbly. Then the truth struck him
+like a blow in the face. "Good God, Wade,--he--he wanted you to _kill_ him!"
+
+"That's it, sir, that's it," whispered Wade jerkily. "He has an envelope
+up there with fifty thousand dollars in it. He had me count them a week
+ago, right before his eyes, and hide the envelope in a drawer. You see how
+he trusts me, sir? He knows that I could rob him to-night if I wanted to
+do so. Or what's to prevent my making off with the money after he's gone?
+Nobody would ever know. But he knows me too well. He trusts me. I was to
+give him the poison the night after you got home, and I would never be
+suspected of doing it because the pills have been lying on his table for
+weeks, ready for him to take at any time. Every one might say that he took
+them himself, don't you see?"
+
+"Then, in God's name, why doesn't he take them,--why does he ask you to
+give them to him?" cried Braden, an icy perspiration on his brow.
+
+"That's the very point, sir," explained Wade. "He says he has tried to do
+it, but--well, he just can't, sir. Mr. Thorpe is a God-fearing man. He will
+not take his own life. He--he says he believes there is a hell, Mr. Braden.
+I just wanted to tell you that I--I can't do what he asks me to do. Not for
+all the money in the world. He seems to think that I don't believe there
+is a hell. Anyhow, sir, he appears to think it would be quite all right
+for me to kill a fellow man. Beg pardon, sir; I forgot that you have been
+writing all these articles about--"
+
+"It's all right, Wade," interrupted Braden. "Tell me, has he made this
+proposition to any one else? To the nurses, to Murray--any one?"
+
+Wade hesitated. "I'm quite sure he hasn't appealed to any one but me, sir,
+except--that is to say--"
+
+"Who else?"
+
+"He told me plainly that he couldn't ask any of the nurses to do it,
+because he thought it ought to be done by a friend or a--member of the
+family. The doctors, of course, might do it unbeknownst to him, but they
+won't, sir."
+
+"Whom else did he speak to about it?" insisted Braden.
+
+"I can't be sure, but I think he has spoken to Mrs. Thorpe a good many
+times about it. Every time she is alone with him, in fact, sir. I've heard
+him pleading with her,--yes, and cursing her, too,--and her voice is always
+full of horror when she says 'No, no! I will not do it! I cannot!' You
+see, sir, I always stand here by the door, waiting to be called, so I
+catch snatches of conversation when their voices are raised. Besides,
+she's always as white as a sheet when she comes out, and two or three
+times she has actually run to her room as if she was afraid he was
+pursuing her. I can't help feeling, Mr. Braden, that he considers her a
+member of the family, and so long as I won't do it, he--"
+
+"Good God, Wade! Don't say anything more! I--" His knees suddenly seemed
+about to give way under him. He went on in a hoarse whisper: "Why, I--I am
+a member of the family. You don't suppose he'll--you don't suppose--"
+
+"I just thought I'd tell you, sir," broke in Wade, "so's you might be
+prepared. Will you go in now, sir? He is most eager to see you."
+
+Braden entered the room, sick with horror. A member of the family! A
+member of the family to do the killing!
+
+He was shocked by the appearance of the sick old man. Templeton Thorpe had
+wasted to a thin, greyish shadow. His lips were as white as his cheek, and
+that was the colour of chalk. Only his eyes were bright and gleaming with
+the life that remained to him. The grip of his hand was strong and firm,
+and his voice, too, was steady.
+
+"I've been waiting for you, Braden, my boy," said Mr. Thorpe, some time
+after the greetings. He turned himself weakly in the bed and, drawing a
+little nearer to the edge, lowered his voice to a more confidential tone.
+His eyes were burning, his lips drawn tightly across his teeth,--for even
+at his age Templeton Thorpe was not a toothless thing. They were alone in
+the room. The nurse had seized upon the prospect of a short respite.
+
+"I wish I had known, granddaddy," lamented Braden. "You should have sent
+for me long ago."
+
+"That is the fifth or sixth time you've made that remark in the last ten
+minutes," said Mr. Thorpe, a querulous note stealing into his voice.
+"Don't say it again. By the way, suppose that I had sent for you: what
+could you have done? What good could you have done? Answer me that."
+
+"There is no telling, sir. At least, I could have done my share of
+the--that is to say, I might have been useful in a great many ways. You may
+be sure, sir, that I should have been in constant attendance. I should
+have been on hand night and day."
+
+"You would have assisted Anne in the death watch, eh?" said Mr. Thorpe,
+with a ghastly smile.
+
+"Don't say that, sir," cried Braden, flinching.
+
+"I may not have the opportunity to speak with you again,
+Braden,--privately, I mean,--and, as my time is short, I want to confess to
+you that I have been agreeably surprised in Anne. She has tried to do her
+best. She has not neglected me. She regards me as a human being in great
+pain, and I am beginning to think that she has a heart. There is the bare
+possibility, my boy, that she might have made you a good wife if I had not
+put temptation in her way. In any event, she would not have dishonoured
+you. It goes without saying that she has been wife to me in name only. You
+may find some comfort in that. In the past few weeks I have laid even
+greater temptations before her and she has not fallen. I cannot explain
+further to you, but--" here he smiled wanly--"some day she may tell you in
+the inevitable attempt to justify herself and win back what she has lost.
+Don't interrupt me, please. She _will_ try, never fear, and you will have
+to be strong to resist her. I know what you would say to me, so don't say
+it. You are horrified by the thought of it, but the day will come when you
+must again raise your hand against the woman who loves you. Make no
+mistake, Braden; she loves you."
+
+"I believe I would strike her dead if she made the slightest appeal to--"
+
+"Never mind," snapped the old man. "I know you well enough to credit you
+with self-respect, if not self-abnegation. What I am trying to get at is
+this: do you hold a grudge against me for revealing this girl's true
+character to you?"
+
+"I must ask you to excuse me from answering that question, grandfather,"
+said Braden, compressing his lips.
+
+The old man eyed him closely. "Is that an admission that you think I have
+wronged you in saving you from the vampires?" he persisted ironically.
+
+"I cannot discuss your wife with you, sir," said the other.
+
+Mr. Thorpe continued to regard his grandson narrowly for a moment or two
+longer, and then a look of relief came into his eyes. "I see. I shouldn't
+have asked it of you. Nevertheless, I am satisfied. My experiment is a
+success. You are qualified to distinguish between the Tresslyn greed and
+the Tresslyn love, so I have not failed. They put the one above the other
+and so far they have trusted to luck. If Anne had spurned my money I
+haven't the slightest doubt that she would have married you and made you a
+good wife. The fact that she did not spurn my money would seem to prove
+that she wouldn't make anybody a good wife. I know all this is painful to
+you, my boy, but I must say it to you before I die. You see I am dying.
+That's quite apparent, even to the idiots who are trying to keep me alive.
+They do not fool me with their: 'Aha, Mr. Thorpe, how are we to-day?
+Better, eh?' I am dying by inches,--fractions of inches, to be precise." He
+stopped short, out of breath after this long speech.
+
+Braden laid his hand upon the bony fore-arm. "How long have you known,
+granddaddy, that you had this--this--"
+
+"Cancer? Say it, my boy. I'm not afraid of the word. Most people are. It's
+a dreadful word. How can I answer your question? Years, no doubt. It
+became active a year and a half ago. I knew what it was, even then."
+
+"In heaven's name, sir, why did you let it go on? An operation at that
+time might have--"
+
+"You forget that I could afford to wait. When a man gets to be as old as I
+am he can philosophise even in the matter of death. What is a year or two,
+one way or the other, to me? An operation is either an experiment or a
+last resort, isn't it? Well, my boy, I preferred to look upon it as a last
+resort, and as such I concluded to put it off until the last minute, when
+it wouldn't make any difference which way it resulted. If it had resulted
+fatally a year and a half ago, what would I have gained? If it should take
+place to-morrow, with the same result, haven't I cheated Time out of
+eighteen months?"
+
+"But the pain, the suffering," cried Braden. "You might at least have
+spared yourself the whole lifetime of pain that you have lived in these
+last few months. You haven't cheated pain out of its year and a half."
+
+"True," said Mr. Thorpe, his lips twitching with the pain he was trying to
+defy; "I have not been able to laugh at the futility of pain. Ah!" It was
+almost a scream that issued from between his stretched lips. He began to
+writhe....
+
+"Come in again to-night," he said half an hour later, whispering the words
+with difficulty. The two nurses and the doctor's assistant, who had been
+staying in the house for more than a week, now stood back from the
+bedside, dripping with perspiration. The paroxysm had been one of the
+worst he had experienced. They had believed for a time that it was also to
+be the last. Braden Thorpe, shaking like a leaf because of the very
+inactivity that was forced upon him by the activity of others, wiped the
+sweat from his brow, and nodded his head in speechless despair. "Come in
+to-night, after you've talked with Anne and Dr. Bates. I'm easier now. It
+can't go on much longer, you see. Bates gives me a couple of weeks. That
+means a couple of centuries of pain, however. Go now and talk it over with
+Anne."
+
+With this singular admonition pounding away at his senses, Braden went out
+of the room. Wade,--the ever-present Wade,--was outside the door. His
+expression was as calmly attentive as it would have been were his master
+yawning after a healthy nap instead of screaming with all the tortures of
+the damned. As Braden hurried by, hardly knowing whither he went, the
+servant did something he had never done before in his life. He ventured to
+lay a detaining hand upon the arm of a superior.
+
+"Did he ask you to--to do it, Master Braden?" he whispered hoarsely. The
+man's eyes were glazed with dread.
+
+Braden stopped. At first he did not comprehend. Then Wade's meaning was
+suddenly revealed to him. He drew back, aghast.
+
+"Good Lord, no! No, no!" he cried out.
+
+"Well," said Wade deliberately, "he will, mark my words, sir. I don't mind
+saying to you, Mr. Braden, that he _depends_ upon you."
+
+"Are you crazy, Wade?" gasped Braden, searching the man's face with an
+intentness that betrayed his own fear that the prophecy would come true.
+Something had already told him that his grandfather would depend upon him
+for complete relief,--and it was that something that had gripped his heart
+when he entered the sick-room, and still gripped it with all the infernal
+tenacity of inevitableness.
+
+He hurried on, like one hunted and in search of a place in which to hide
+until the chase had passed. At the foot of the stairs he came upon Murray,
+the butler.
+
+"Mrs. Thorpe says that you are to go to your old room, Mr. Braden," said
+the butler. "Will you care for tea, sir, or would you prefer something a
+little stronger?"
+
+"Nothing, Murray, thank you," replied Braden, cold with a strange new
+terror. He could not put aside the impression that Murray, the bibulous
+Murray, was also regarding him in the light of an executioner. Somewhere
+back in his memory there was aroused an old story about the citizens who
+sat up all night to watch for the coming of the hangman who was to do a
+grewsome thing at dawn. He tried to shake off the feeling, he tried to
+laugh at the fantastic notion that had so swiftly assailed him. "I think I
+shall go to my room. Call me, if I am needed."
+
+He did not want to see Anne. He shrank from the revelations that were
+certain to come from the harassed wife of the old man who wanted to die.
+As he remounted the stairs, he was subtly aware that some one opened a
+door below and watched him as he fled. He did not look behind, but he knew
+that the watcher was white-faced and pleading, and that she too was
+counting on him for support.
+
+An hour later, a servant knocked at his door. The afternoon was far gone
+and the sky was overcast with sinister streaks of clouds that did not
+move, but hung like vast Zeppelins over the harbour beyond: long, blue-
+black clouds with white bellies. Mournful clouds that waited for the time
+to come when they could burst into tears! He had been watching them as
+they crept up over the Jersey shores, great stealthy birds of ill-omen,
+giving out no sound yet ponderous in their flight. He started at the
+gentle tapping on his door; a strange hope possessed his soul. Was this a
+friendly hand that knocked? Was its owner bringing him the word that the
+end had come and that he would not be called upon to deny the great
+request? He sprang to the door.
+
+"Dr. Bates is below, sir," said the maid. "He would like to see you before
+he goes."
+
+Braden's heart sank. "I'll come at once, Katie."
+
+There were three doctors in the library. Dr. Bates went straight to the
+point.
+
+"Your grandfather, Braden, has a very short time to live. He has just
+dismissed us. Our services are no longer required in this case, if I--"
+
+"Dismissed you?" cried Braden, unbelievingly.
+
+Dr. Bates smiled. "We can do nothing more for him, my boy. It is just as
+well that we should go. He--"
+
+"But, my God, sir, you cannot leave him to die in--"
+
+"Have patience, my lad. We are not leaving him to die alone. By his
+express command, we are turning the case over to you. You are to be his
+sole--"
+
+"I refuse!" shouted Braden.
+
+"You cannot refuse,--you will not, I am sure. For your benefit I may say
+that the case is absolutely hopeless. Not even a miracle can save him. If
+you will give me your closest attention, I will, with Dr. Bray's support,
+describe his condition and all that has led up to this unhappy crisis. Sit
+down, my boy. I am your good friend. I am not your critic, nor your
+traducer. Sit down and listen calmly, if you can. You should know just
+what is before you, and you must also know that every surgeon who has been
+called in consultation expresses but one opinion. In truth, it is not an
+opinion that they venture, but an unqualified decision."
+
+For a long time Braden sat as if paralysed and listened to the words of
+the fine old doctor. At last the three arose and stood over him.
+
+"You understand everything now, Braden," said Dr. Bates, a tremor in his
+voice. "May God direct your course. We shall not come here again. You are
+not to feel that we are deserting you, however, for that is not true. We
+go because you have come, because you have been put in sole charge. And
+now, my boy, I have something else to say to you as an old friend. I know
+your views. Not I alone, but Dr. Bray and thousands of others, have felt
+as you feel about such things. There have been countless instances, like
+the one at hand, when we have wished that we might be faithless to the
+tenets of a noble profession. But we have never faltered. It is not our
+province to be merciful, if I may put it in that way, but to be
+conscientious. It is our duty to save, not to destroy. That is what binds
+every doctor to his patient. Take the advice of an old man, Braden, and
+don't allow your pity to run away with your soul. Take my advice, lad. Let
+God do the deliberate killing. He will do it in his own good time, for all
+of us. I speak frankly, for I know you consider me your friend and well-
+wisher."
+
+"Thank you, Dr. Bates," said Braden, hoarsely. "The advice is not needed,
+however. I am not a murderer. I could not kill that poor old man upstairs,
+no matter how dreadfully he suffers. I fear that you have overlooked the
+fact that I am an advocate, not a performer, of merciful deeds. You should
+not confuse my views with my practice. I advocate legalising the
+destruction of the hopelessly afflicted. Inasmuch as it is not a legal
+thing to do at present, I shall continue to practise my profession as all
+the rest of you do: conscientiously." He was standing before them. His
+face was white and his hands were clenched.
+
+"I am glad to hear you say that, Braden," said Dr. Bates gently. "Forgive
+me. One last word, however. If you need me at any time, I stand ready to
+come to you. If you conclude to operate, I--I shall advise against it, of
+course,--you may depend upon me to be with you when you--"
+
+"But you have said, Dr. Bates, that you do not believe an operation would
+be of--"
+
+"In my opinion it would be fatal. But you must not forget that God rules,
+not we mortals. We do not know everything. I am frank to confess that
+there is not one among us who is willing to take the chance, if that is a
+guide to you. That's all, my boy. Good-bye. God be with you!"
+
+They passed out of and away from the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+In the course of the evening, desolated by the ugly responsibility that
+had been thrust upon him, Braden put aside his scruples, his antipathy,
+and sent word to Anne that he would like to discuss the new situation with
+her. She had not appeared for dinner, which was a doleful affair; she did
+not even favour him with an apology for not coming down. Distasteful as
+the interview promised to be for him, he realised that it should not be
+postponed. His grandfather's wife would have to be consulted. It was her
+right to decide who should attend the sick man. While he was acutely
+confident that she would not oppose his solitary attendance, there still
+struggled in his soul the hope that she might, for the sake of appearances
+at least, insist on calling in other physicians. It was a hope that he
+dared not encourage, however. Fate had settled the matter. It was ordained
+that he should stand where he now stood in this unhappy hour.
+
+He recalled his grandfather's declaration that she still loved him. The
+thought turned him sick with loathing, for he believed in his heart that
+it was true. He knew that Anne loved him, and always would love him. But
+he also knew that every vestige of love and respect for her had gone out
+of his heart long ago and that he now felt only the bitterness of
+disillusionment so far as she was concerned. He was not afraid of her. She
+had lost all power to move a single drop of blood in his veins. But he was
+afraid _for_ her.
+
+She came downstairs at nine o'clock. He had not gone near the sick-room
+since his initial visit, earlier in the day, literally obeying the command
+of the sick man: to talk matters over with Anne before coming again to see
+him.
+
+"I am sorry to have kept you waiting," she said simply, as she advanced
+into the room. "I have been talking over the telephone with my mother. She
+does not come here any more. It has been nearly three weeks since she last
+came to see me. The dread of it all, don't you know. She is positive that
+she has all of the symptoms. I suppose it is a not uncommon fault of the
+imagination. Of course, I go to see her every afternoon. I see no one
+else, Braden, except good old Simmy Dodge. He stops in nearly every day to
+inquire, and to cheer me up if possible."
+
+She was attired in a simple evening gown,--an old one, she hastily would
+have informed a woman visitor,--and it was hard for him to believe that
+this was not the lovely, riant Anne Tresslyn of a year ago instead of the
+hardened mistress of Templeton Thorpe's home. There was no sign of
+confusion or uncertainty in her manner, and not the remotest indication
+that her heart still owned love for him. If she retained a spark of the
+old flame in that beautiful body of hers, it was very carefully secreted
+behind a mask of indifference. She met his gaze frankly, unswervingly. Her
+poise was perfect,--marvellously so in the face of his ill-concealed
+antipathy.
+
+"I suppose you know that I have been left in sole charge of the case," he
+said, without preface.
+
+"Oh, yes," she replied calmly. "It was Mr. Thorpe's desire."
+
+"And yours?"
+
+"Certainly. Were you hoping that I would interpose an objection?"
+
+"Yes. I am not qualified to take charge of--"
+
+"Pardon me, Braden, if I remind you, that so far as Mr. Thorpe's chances
+for recovery are concerned, he might safely be attended by the simplest
+novice. The result would be the same." She spoke without a trace of irony.
+"Dr. Bates and the others were willing to continue, but what was the use?
+They do not leave you a thing to stand on, Braden. There is nothing that
+you can do. I am sorry. It seems a pity for you to have come home to
+this."
+
+He smiled faintly, whether at her use of the word "home" or the prospect
+she laid down for him it would be difficult to say.
+
+"Shall we sit down, Anne, and discuss the situation?" he said. "It is one
+of my grandfather's orders, so I suppose we shall have to obey."
+
+She sank gracefully into a deep chair at the foot of the library table,
+and motioned for him to take one near-by. The light from the chandelier
+fell upon her brown hair, and glinted.
+
+"It is very strange, Braden, that we should come into each other's lives
+again, and in this manner. It seems so long ago--"
+
+"Is it necessary to discuss ourselves, Anne?"
+
+She regarded him steadily. "Yes, I think so," she said. "We must at least
+convince ourselves that the past has no right to interfere with or
+overshadow what we may choose to call the present,--or the future, for that
+matter, if I may look a little farther ahead. The fact remains that we are
+here together, Braden, in spite of all that has happened, and we must make
+the best of it. The world,--our own little world, I mean,--will be watching
+us. We must watch ourselves. Oh, don't misconstrue that remark, please. We
+must see to it that the world does not judge us entirely by our past." She
+was very cool about it, he thought,--and confident.
+
+"As I said before, Anne, I see no occasion to--"
+
+"Very well," she interrupted. "I beg your pardon. You asked me to see you
+to-night. What is it that you wish to say to me?"
+
+He leaned forward in the chair, his elbows on the arms of it, and regarded
+her fixedly. "Has my grandfather ever appealed to you to--to--" He stopped,
+for she had turned deathly pale; she closed her eyes tightly as if to shut
+out some visible horror; a perceptible shudder ran through her slender
+body. As Braden started to rise, she raised her eye-lids, and in her
+lovely eyes he saw horror, dread, appeal, all in one. "I'm sorry," he
+murmured, in distress "I should have been more--"
+
+"It's all right," she said, recovering herself with an effort. "I thought
+I had prepared myself for the question you were so sure to ask. I have
+been through hell in the past two weeks, Braden. I have had to listen to
+the most infamous proposals--but perhaps it would be better for me to
+repeat them to you just as they were made to me, and let you judge for
+yourself."
+
+She leaned back in the chair, as if suddenly tired. Her voice was low and
+tense, and at no time during her recital did she raise it above the level
+at which she started. Plainly, she was under a severe strain and was
+afraid that she might lose control of herself.
+
+It appeared that Mr. Thorpe had put her to the supreme test. In brief, he
+had called upon his young wife to put him out of his misery! Cunningly, he
+had beset her with the most amazing temptations. Her story was one of
+those incredible things that one cannot believe because the mind refuses
+to entertain the utterly revolting. In the beginning the old man, consumed
+by pain, implored her to perform a simple act of mercy. He told her of the
+four little pellets and the glass of water. At that time she treated the
+matter lightly. The next day he began his sly, persistent campaign against
+what he was pleased to call her inhumanity; he did not credit her with
+scruples. There was something Machiavellian in the sufferer's scheming. He
+declared that there could be no criminal intent on her part, therefore her
+conscience would never be afflicted. The fact that he consented to the act
+was enough to clear her conscience, if that was all that restrained her.
+She realised that he was in earnest now, and fled the room in horror.
+
+Then he tried to anger her with abuse and calumny to such an extent that
+she would be driven to the deed by sheer rage. Failing in this, he resumed
+his wheedling tactics. It would be impossible, he argued, for any one to
+know that she had given him the soothing poison. The doctors would always
+believe that he had overcome his prejudice against self-destruction and
+had taken the tablets, just as they intended and evidently desired him to
+do. But he would not take his own life. He would go on suffering for years
+before he would send his soul to purgatory by such an act. He believed in
+damnation. He had lived an honourable, upright life and he maintained that
+his soul was entitled to the salvation his body had earned for it by its
+resistance to the evils of the flesh. What, said he, could be more
+incompatible with a lifelong observance of God's laws than the commission
+of an act for which there could be no forgiveness, what more terrible than
+going into the presence of his maker with sin as his guide and advocate?
+His last breath of life drawn in sin!
+
+Day after day he whispered his wily arguments, and always she fled in
+horror. Her every hour was a nightmare, sleeping or waking. Her strength
+was shattered, yet she was compelled to withstand his daily attacks. He
+never failed to send for her to sit with him while the nurse took her
+exercise. He would have no one else. Ultimately he sought to tempt her
+with offers of gold! He agreed to add a codicil to his will, giving her an
+additional million dollars if she would perform a "simple service" for
+him. That was the way he styled it: a simple service! Merely the dropping
+of four little tablets into a tumbler of water and holding it to his lips
+to drain! Suicide with a distinction, murder by obligation! One of his
+arguments was that she would be free to marry the man she loved if he was
+out of the way. He did not utter the name of the man, however.
+
+Anne spoke to no one of these shocking encounters in the darkened sick-
+room. She would not have spoken to Braden but for her husband's command
+given no later than the hour before that she should do so.
+
+"Twice, Braden, I was tempted to do what he asked of me," she said in
+conclusion, almost in a whisper. "He was in such fearful agony. You will
+never know how he has suffered. My heart ached for him. I cannot
+understand how a good and gentle God can inflict such pain upon one of his
+creatures. Why should this Christian be crucified? But I must not say such
+things. Twice I came near to putting those tablets in the glass and giving
+it to him to drink, but both times I shrank even as I took them up from
+the table. I shall never forget the look of joy that came into his eyes
+when he saw me pick them up, nor shall I ever forget the look he gave me
+when I threw them down and put my fingers to my ears to shut out the sound
+of his moans. It would have been so easy to end it all for him. No one
+could have known, and he would have died thanking me for one good deed at
+least. Yesterday when I failed him for the second time, he made the most
+horrible confession to me. He said that when he married me a year ago he
+knew that this very crisis would come and that he had counted on me then
+as his deliverer! He actually said to me, Braden, that all this was in his
+mind when he married me. Can't you understand? If the time ever came when
+he wanted to die, who would be more likely to serve his purpose than the
+young, avaricious wife who loved another man? Oh, he was not thinking of
+your good, my friend,--at least, not entirely. He did not want you to throw
+yourself away on me, that's true, but your preservation was not his sole
+object, let me assure you. He planned deeper than we knew. He looked ahead
+for one year and saw what was coming, and he counted on me,--he counted on
+the wife he had bought. Once he asked me if I had the faintest idea how
+many wives have killed strong and healthy husbands in order that they
+might wed the men they loved better. If murderesses can do that, said he,
+why should I hesitate, when there could be no such thing as murder in
+my--oh, it was too terrible! Thank God, he thinks better of me now than he
+did on the day he married me. Even though he is your grandfather, Braden,
+I can say to you frankly that if taking his own life means going to hell
+for him, I would see him in hell before I would--"
+
+"Anne, Anne!" cried he, shaken. "Don't say it! It is too horrible. Think
+of what you were about to say and--"
+
+"Oh, I've thought, my friend," she broke in fiercely. "It is time for you
+to think of what he would have done for me. He would have sent me to hell
+in his place. Do you understand? Do you suppose that if I had killed him,
+even with mercy and kindness in my heart, I could ever have escaped from a
+hell on earth, no matter what God's judgment may have been hereafter?
+Would heaven after death affect the hell that came before?"
+
+"Do you believe that there is life beyond the grave?" he demanded. "Do you
+still believe that there is a heaven and a hell?"
+
+"Yes," she said firmly, "and down in your soul, Braden, you believe it
+too. We all believe it, even the scientists who scoff. We can't help
+believing it. It is that which makes good men and women of us, which keeps
+us as children to the end. It isn't honour or nobility of character that
+makes us righteous, but the fear of God. It isn't death that we dread. We
+shrink from the answer to the question we've asked all through life. Can
+you answer that question now?"
+
+"Of course not," he said, "nor can I solve the riddle of life. That is the
+great mystery. Death is simple. We know why we die but we don't know why
+we live."
+
+"The same mystery that precedes life also follows it," she said
+stubbornly. "The greatest scientist in the world was once a lifeless atom.
+He acknowledges that, doesn't he? So, my friend, there is something even
+vaster than the greatest of all intelligences, and that is ignorance. But
+we are wasting time. I have told you everything. You know just what I've
+been through. I don't ask for your sympathy, for you would be quite right
+in refusing to give it me. I made my bed, so there's the end of it. I am
+glad that you are here. The situation is in your hands, not mine."
+
+"What is there for me to do except to sit down, like you, and wait?" he
+groaned, in desperation.
+
+She was silent for a long time, evidently weighing her next remark. "What
+have you to say for your pet theory now, Braden?" she inquired, haltingly.
+
+"You may rest assured, Anne, that even were it legally possible, I should
+not put it into practice in this instance," he said coldly.
+
+Her face brightened. "Do you really mean it?"
+
+"I wish you and all the rest of them would understand that I am not
+setting myself up as a butcher--" he began hotly.
+
+"That is all I want to know," she cried, tremulously. "I have been
+dreading the--I have found myself wondering if _you_ would give him those
+tablets. Look me straight in the eye, Braden. You will not do that, will
+you?"
+
+"Never!" he exclaimed.
+
+"You don't know what that means to me," she said in a low voice. Again
+there was a long silence. He was studying her face, and queer notions were
+entering his brain. "Another question, please, and that is all. Can his
+life be prolonged by an operation?"
+
+"I am assured that he could not survive an operation."
+
+"He may ask you to--to perform one," she said, watching him closely.
+
+He hesitated. "You mean that he is willing to take the chance?"
+
+"I mean that he realises it will make no difference, one way or the other.
+The other doctors have refused to operate."
+
+"He will not ask me to operate," said Braden, but his soul shook within
+him as he spoke.
+
+"We shall see," said she strangely, and then arose. She came quite close
+to him. "I do not want you to operate, Braden. Any one but you. You must
+not take the--the chance. Now you would better go up to him. Tell him you
+have talked with me. He will understand. He may even speak a good word for
+me. Good night. Thank you for--for letting me speak with you to-night."
+
+She left the room. He stood quite still for a full minute, staring at the
+closed door. Then he passed his hand over his eyes as if to shut out the
+vision that remained. He knew now that his grandfather was right.
+
+In the hall upstairs he found Wade.
+
+"Time you were in bed," said Braden shortly. "Get a little rest, man. I am
+here now. You needn't worry."
+
+"He's been asking for you, sir. The nurse has been out here twice within
+the last ten minutes. Excuse me, Mr. Braden; may I have another word with
+you?" He did not lower his voice. Wade's voice was of a peculiarly
+unpenetrating character. Unless one _observed_ his speech it was scarcely
+audible, and yet one had a queer impression, at a glance, that he was
+speaking a little above the ordinary tone of voice. "Did Mrs. Thorpe tell
+you that her brother has been here to see Mr. Thorpe three times within a
+week?"
+
+Braden started. "She did not, Wade."
+
+"Why didn't she tell you, sir?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Well, sir, it is just this way: Mr. Thorpe sent for young Mr. Tresslyn
+last Friday afternoon. Considerable difficulty was had in finding him. He
+was just a wee bit tipsy when he got here at eight o'clock. Mrs. Thorpe
+did not see him, although Murray went to her room to tell her of his
+arrival. Young Mr. Tresslyn was in Mr. Thorpe's room for ten or fifteen
+minutes, and then left the house in a great hurry, sir. He came again on
+Saturday evening, and acted very queerly. Both times he was alone with Mr.
+Thorpe. Again he fairly rushed out of the house as if he was pursued by
+devils. Then he came on Sunday night, and the same thing happened. As he
+was going out, I spoke to him, and this is what he said to me,--scared-like
+and shaking all over, sir,--'I'm not coming here again, Wade. No more of it
+for me. Damn him! You tell my sister that I'm not coming again!' Then he
+went out, mumbling to himself. Right after that I went up to Mr. Thorpe.
+He was very angry. He gave orders that Mr. Tresslyn was not to be admitted
+again. It was then, sir, that he spoke to me about the money in the
+envelope. I have had a notion, sir, that the money was first intended for
+Mr. George Tresslyn, but he didn't like that way of earning it any more
+than I did. Rather strange, too, when you stop to think how badly he needs
+money and how low he's been getting these past few months. Poor chap, he--"
+
+"Now, Wade, you are guessing," interrupted Braden, with a sinking heart.
+"You have no right to surmise--"
+
+"Beg pardon, sir; I was only putting two and two together. I'm sorry. I
+dare say I am entirely wrong, perhaps a little bit out of my head because
+of the--Please, sir, do not misunderstand me. I would not for the world
+have you think that I connect Mrs. Thorpe with the business. I am sure
+that she had nothing whatever to do with her brother's visits
+here,--nothing at all, sir."
+
+Braden's blood was like ice water as he turned away from the man and
+entered his grandfather's room. The nurse was reading to the old man. With
+the young man's entrance, Mr. Thorpe cut her off brusquely and told her to
+leave the room.
+
+"Come here, Braden," he said, after the door had closed behind the woman.
+"Have you talked with Anne?"
+
+"Yes, grandfather."
+
+"She told you everything?"
+
+"I suppose so. It is terrible. You should not have made such demands--"
+
+"We won't go into that," said the other harshly, gripping his side with
+his claw-like hand. His face was contorted by pain. After a moment, he
+went on: "She's better than I thought, and so is that good-for-nothing
+brother of hers. I shall never forgive this scoundrel Wade though. He has
+been my servant, my slave for more than thirty years, and I know that he
+hasn't a shred of a conscience. While I think of it, I wish you would take
+this key and unlock the top drawer in my dressing table. See if there is
+an envelope there, will you? There is, eh? Open it. Count the bills,
+Braden."
+
+He lay back, with tightly closed eyes, while Braden counted the package of
+five hundred dollar bank-notes.
+
+"There are fifty thousand dollars here, grandfather," said the young man
+huskily.
+
+"'Pon my soul, they are more honest than I imagined. Well, well, the world
+is getting better."
+
+"What shall I do with this money, sir? You shouldn't have it lying around
+loose with all these--"
+
+"You may deposit it to my account in the Fifth Avenue Bank to-morrow. It
+is of absolutely no use to me now. Put it in your pocket. It will be quite
+safe with you, I dare say. You are all so inexcusably honest, confound
+you. Sit down. I want to tell you what I've finally decided to do. These
+surgeons say there is about one chance in a million for me, my boy. I've
+decided to take it."
+
+"Take it?" muttered Braden, knowing full well what was to come.
+
+"I have given you the finest education, the finest training that any young
+man ever had, Braden. You owe a great deal to me, I think you will admit.
+Never mind now. Don't thank me. I would not trust my one chance to any of
+these disinterested butchers. They would not care a rap whether I pulled
+through or not. With you, it is different. I believe you would--"
+
+"My God, grandfather, you are not going to ask me to--"
+
+"Sit still! Yes, I am going to ask you to give me that one chance in a
+million. If you fail, I shall not be here to complain. If you
+succeed,--well, you will have performed a miracle. You--"
+
+"But there is no possible chance,--not the slightest chance of success,"
+cried Braden, the cold sweat running down his face. "I can tell you in
+advance that it means death to--"
+
+"Nevertheless, it is worth trying, isn't it, my boy?" said Templeton
+Thorpe softly. "I demand it of you. You are my flesh and blood. You will
+not let me lie here and suffer like this for weeks and months. It is your
+duty to do what you can. It is your time to be merciful, my lad."
+
+Braden's face was in his hands. His body was shaking as if in convulsions.
+He could not look into the old man's eyes.
+
+"Send for Bates and Bray to-morrow. Tell them that you have decided to
+operate,--with my consent. They will understand. It must be done at once.
+You will not fail me. You will do this for your poor old granddaddy who
+has loved you well and who suffers to-day as no man in all this world has
+ever suffered before. I am in agony. Nothing stops the pain. Everything
+has failed. You _will_ do this for me, Braden?"
+
+The young man raised his haggard face. Infinite pity had succeeded horror
+in his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Simmy Dodge emerged from Sherry's at nine-thirty. He was leaving Mrs.
+Fenwick's dinner-dance in response to an appeal from Anne Thorpe, who had
+sent for him by messenger earlier in the evening. Simmy was reluctant
+about going down to the house off Washington Square; he was constituted as
+one of those who shrink from the unwholesomeness of death rather than from
+its terrors. He was fond of Anne, but in his soul he was abusing her for
+summoning him to bear witness to the final translation of old Templeton
+Thorpe from a warm, sensitive body, into a cold, unpleasant hulk. He had
+no doubt that he had been sent for to see the old man die. While he would
+not, for the world, have denied Anne in her hour of distress, he could not
+help wishing that she had put the thing off till to-morrow. Death doesn't
+appear so ugly in the daytime. One is spared the feeling that it is
+stealing up through the darkness of night to lay claim to its prey.
+
+Simmy shivered a little as he stood in front of Sherry's waiting for his
+car to come up. He made up his mind then and there that when it came time
+for him to die he would see to it that he did not do it in the night. For,
+despite the gay lights of the city, there were always sombre shadows for
+one to be jerked into by the relentless hand of death; there was something
+appalling about being dragged off into a darkness that was to be
+dissipated at sunrise, instead of lasting forever.
+
+He left behind him in one of the big private diningrooms a brilliant,
+high-spirited company of revellers. One of Mrs. Fenwick's guests was Lutie
+Tresslyn. He sat opposite her at one of the big round tables, and for an
+hour he had watched with moody eyes her charming, vivacious face as she
+conversed with the men on either side of her. She was as cool, as self-
+contained as any woman at the table. There was nothing to indicate that
+she had not been born to this estate of velvet, unless the freshness of
+her cheek and the brightness of her eye betrayed her by contrast with the
+unmistakable haggardness of "the real thing."
+
+She was unafraid. All at once Simmy was proud of her. He felt the thrill
+of something he could not on the moment define, but which he afterwards
+put down as patriotism! It was just the sort of thrill, he argued, that
+you have when the band plays at West Point and you see the cadets come
+marching toward you with their heads up and their chests out,--the thrill
+that leaves a smothering, unuttered cheer in your throat.
+
+He thought of Anne Tresslyn too, and smiled to himself. This was Anne
+Tresslyn's set, not Lutie's, and yet here she was, a trim little warrior,
+inside the walls of a fortified place, hobnobbing with the formidable army
+of occupation and staring holes through the uniforms of the General Staff!
+She sat in the Tresslyn camp, and there were no other Tresslyns there. She
+sat with the Wintermills, and--yes, he had to admit it,--she had winked at
+him slyly when she caught his eye early in the evening. It was a very
+small wink to be sure and was not repeated.
+
+The night was cold. His chauffeur was not to be found by the door-men who
+ran up and down the line from Fifth to Sixth Avenue for ten minutes before
+Simmy remembered that he had told the man not to come for him until three
+in the morning, an hour at which one might reasonably expect a dance to
+show signs of abating.
+
+He was on the point of ordering a taxi-cab when his attention was drawn to
+a figure that lurked well back in the shadows of the Berkeley Theatre down
+the street--a tall figure in a long ulster. Despite the darkness, Simmy's
+intense stare convinced him that it was George Tresslyn who stood over
+there and gazed from beneath lowered brows at the bright doorway. He
+experienced a chill that was not due to the raw west wind. There was
+something sinister about that big, motionless figure, something portentous
+of disaster. He knew that George had been going down the hill with
+startling rapidity. On more than one occasion he had tried to stay this
+downward rush, but without avail. Young Tresslyn was drinking, but he was
+not carousing. He drank as unhappy men drink, not as the happy ones do. He
+drank alone.
+
+For a few minutes Simmy watched this dark sentinel, and reflected. What
+was he doing over there? What was he up to? Was he waiting for Lutie to
+come forth from the fortified place? Was there murder and self-murder in
+the heart of this unhappy boy? Simmy was a little man but he was no
+coward. He did not hesitate long. He would have to act, and act promptly.
+He did not dare go away while that menacing figure remained on guard. The
+police, no doubt, would drive him away in time, but he would come back
+again. So Simmy Dodge squared his shoulders and marched across the street,
+to face what might turn out to be a ruthless lunatic--the kind one reads
+about, who kill their best friends, "and all that sort of thing."
+
+It was quite apparent that the watcher had been observing him. As Simmy
+came briskly across the street, Tresslyn moved out of his position near
+the awning and started westward, his shoulders hunched upward and his chin
+lowered with the evident desire to prevent recognition. Simmy called out
+to him. The other quickened his steps. He slouched but did not stagger, a
+circumstance which caused Simmy a sharp twinge of uneasiness. He was not
+intoxicated. Simmy's good sense told him that he would be more dangerous
+sober than drunk, but he did not falter. At the second shout, young
+Tresslyn stopped. His hands were thrust deep into his overcoat pockets.
+
+"What do you want?" he demanded thickly, as the dapper little man came up
+and extended his hand. Simmy was beaming, as if he suddenly had found a
+long lost friend and comrade. George took no notice of the friendly hand.
+He was staring hard, almost savagely at the other's face. Simmy was
+surprised to find that his cheeks, though sunken and haggard, were cleanly
+shaved, and his general appearance far from unprepossessing. In the light
+from a near-by window, the face was lowering but not inflamed; the eyes
+were heavy and tired-looking--but not bloodshot.
+
+"I thought I recognised you," said Simmy glibly.
+
+"Much obliged," said George, without the semblance of a smile.
+
+Simmy hesitated. Then he laid his hand on George's arm. "See here, George,
+this will not do. I think I know why you are here, and--it won't do, old
+chap."
+
+"If you were anybody else, Dodge, I'd beat your head off," said George
+slowly, as if amazed that he had not already done so. "Better go away,
+Simmy, and let me alone. I'm all right. I'm not doing any harm, am I,
+standing out here?"
+
+"What do you gain by standing here in the cold and--"
+
+"Never mind what I gain. That's my affair," said George, his voice shaking
+in spite of its forced gruffness.
+
+Simmy was undaunted. "Have you been drinking to-night?"
+
+"None of your damned business. What do you mean by--"
+
+"I am your friend, George," broke in Simmy earnestly. "I can see now that
+you've had a drink or two, and you--"
+
+"I'm as sober as you are!"
+
+"More so, I fear. I've had champagne. You--"
+
+"I am not drunk all of the time, you know," snarled George.
+
+"Well, I'm glad to hear it," said Simmy cheerfully.
+
+"I hate the stuff,--hate it worse than anything on earth except being
+sober. Good night, Simmy," he broke off abruptly.
+
+"That dance in there won't be over before three o'clock," said Simmy
+shrewdly. "You're in for a long wait, my lad."
+
+George groaned. "Good Lord, is it--is it a dance? The papers said it was a
+dinner for Lord and Lady--"
+
+"Better come along with me, George," interrupted Simmy quietly. "I'm going
+down to Anne's. She has sent for me. It's the end, I fancy. That's where
+you ought to be to-night, Tresslyn. She needs you. Come--"
+
+Young Tresslyn drew back, a look of horror in his eyes. "Not if I know
+myself," he muttered. "You'll never get me inside that house again.
+Why,--why, it's more than I could stand, Simmy. That old man tried--but,
+never mind. I can't talk about it. There's one thing sure, though: I
+wouldn't go near him again for all the money in New York,--not I."
+
+"I sha'n't insist, of course. But I do insist on your getting away from
+here. You are not to annoy Lutie. She's had trouble enough and you ought
+to be man enough to let her alone."
+
+George stared at him as if he had not heard aright. "Annoy her? What the
+devil are you talking about?"
+
+"You know what I'm talking about. Oh, don't glare at me like that. I'm not
+afraid of you, big as you are. I'm trying to put sense into your head,
+that's all, and you'll thank me for it later on, too."
+
+"Why, I--I wouldn't annoy her for all the world, Simmy," said George,
+jerkily. "What do you take me for? What kind of a--"
+
+"Then, why are you here?" demanded Simmy "It looks bad, George. If it
+isn't Lutie, who is it you're after?"
+
+The other appeared to be dazed. "I'm not after any one," he mumbled.
+Suddenly he gripped Simmy by the shoulders and bent a white, scowling face
+down to the little man's level. "My God, Simmy, I--I can't help it. That's
+all there is to it. I just want to see her--just want to look at her. Can't
+you understand? But of course you can't. You couldn't know what it means
+to love a girl as I love her. It isn't in you. Annoy her? I'd cut my heart
+out first. What business is it of yours if I choose to stand out here all
+night just for a glimpse of her in all her happiness, all her triumph, all
+that she's got because she deserves it? Oh, I'm sober enough, so don't
+think it's that. Now, you let me alone. Get out of this, Simmy. I know
+what I'm doing and I don't want any advice from you. She won't know I'm
+over here when she comes out of that place, and what she doesn't know
+isn't going to bother her. She doesn't know that I sneak around like this
+to get a look at her whenever it's possible, and I don't want her to know
+it. It would worry her. It might--frighten her, Simmy, and God knows I
+wouldn't harm her by word or deed for anything on earth. Only she wouldn't
+understand. D'you see?" He shook Simmy as a dog would have shaken a rat,
+not in anger but to emphasise his seriousness.
+
+"By Jove, George,--I'd like to believe that of you," chattered Simmy.
+
+"Well, you can believe it. I'm not ashamed to confess what I'm doing. You
+may call me a baby, a fool, a crank or whatever you like,--I don't care.
+I've just got to see her, and this is the only way. Do you think I'd spoil
+things for her, now that she's made good? Think I'd butt in and queer it
+all? I'm no good, I'm a rotter, and I'm going to the devil as fast as I
+know how, Simmy. That's my affair, too. But I'm not mean enough to
+begrudge her the happiness she's found in spite of all us damned
+Tresslyns. Now, run along, Simmy, and don't worry about anything happening
+to her,--at least, so far as I'm concerned. She'll probably have her work
+cut out defending herself against some of her fine gentlemen, some of the
+respectable rotters in there. But she'll manage all right. She's the right
+sort, and she's had her lesson already. She won't be fooled again."
+
+Simmy's amazement had given way to concern. "Upon my word, George, I'm
+sorry for you. I had no idea that you felt as you do. It's too darned bad.
+I wish it could have been different with you two."
+
+"It could have been, as I've said before, if I'd had the back-bone of a
+caterpillar."
+
+"If you still love her as deeply as all this, why--"
+
+"Love her? Why, if she were to come out here this instant and smile on me,
+Simmy, I'd--I'd--God, I don't know what I'd do!" He drooped his head
+dejectedly, and Simmy saw that he was shaking.
+
+"It's too bad," said Simmy again, blinking. For a long time the two of
+them stood there, side by side, looking at the bright doorway across the
+street. Simmy was thinking hard. "See here, old fellow," he said at last,
+profoundly moved, "why don't you buck up and try to make something of
+yourself? It isn't too late. Do something that will make her proud of you.
+Do--"
+
+"Proud of me, eh?" sneered George. "The only thing I could do would be to
+jump into the river with my hands tied. She'd be proud of me for that."
+
+"Nonsense. Now listen to me. You don't want her to know that you've been
+put in jail, do you?"
+
+"What am I doing that would get me into jail?"
+
+"Loitering. Loafing suspiciously. Drinking. A lot of things, my boy.
+They'll nab you if you hang around here till three o'clock. You saw her go
+in, didn't you?"
+
+"Yes. She--she happened to turn her face this way when she got to the top
+of the steps. Saying something to the people she was with. God, I--she's
+the loveliest thing in--" He stopped short, and put his hand to his eyes.
+
+Simmy's grip tightened on George's arm, and then for five minutes he
+argued almost desperately with the younger man. In the end, Tresslyn
+agreed to go home. He would not go to Anne's.
+
+"And you'll not touch another drop to-night?" said Dodge, as they crossed
+over to the line of taxi-cabs.
+
+George halted. "Say, what's on your mind, Simmy? Are you afraid I'll go
+off my nut and create a scene,--perhaps mop up the sidewalk with some one
+like Percy Wintermill or--well, any one of those nuts in there? That the
+idea you've got? Well, let me set you right, my boy. If I ever do anything
+like that it will not be with Lutie as the excuse. I'll not drag her name
+into it. Mind you, I'm not saying I'll never smash some one's head, but--"
+
+"I didn't mean that, at all," said Simmy.
+
+"And you needn't preach temperance to me," went on George. "I know that
+liquor isn't good for me. I hate the stuff, as a matter of fact. I know
+what it does to a man who has been an athlete. It gets him quicker than it
+gets any one else. But the liquor makes me forget that I'm no good. It
+makes me think I'm the biggest, bravest and best man in the world, and God
+knows I'm not. When I get enough of the stuff inside of me, I imagine that
+I'm good enough for Lutie. It's the only joy I have, this thinking that
+I'm as decent as anybody, and the only time I think I'm decent is when I'm
+so damned drunk that I don't know anything at all. Tell him to take me to
+Meikelham's hotel. Good night. You're all right, Simmy."
+
+"To Meikelham's? I want you to go home, George."
+
+"Well, that's home for me at present. Rotten place, believe me, but it's
+the best I can get for a dollar a day," grated George.
+
+"I thought you were living with your mother?"
+
+"No. Kicked out. That was six weeks ago. Couldn't stand seeing me around.
+I don't blame her, either. But that's none of your business, Simmy, so
+don't say another word."
+
+"It's pretty rough, that's all."
+
+"On me--or her?"
+
+"Both of you," said Simmy sharply. "I say, come over and see me to-morrow
+afternoon, George,--at three o'clock. Sober, if you don't mind. I've got
+something to say to you--"
+
+"No use, Simmy," sighed George.
+
+"You are fond of Anne, aren't you?"
+
+"Certainly. What's that got to do with it?"
+
+"She may need you soon. You must be ready, that's all. See what I mean?"
+
+"Moral support, eh?" scoffed George.
+
+"You are her brother."
+
+"Right you are," said the other soberly. "I'll be on hand, Simmy, if I'm
+needed. Tell Anne, will you? I'll stick it out for a few days if it will
+help her."
+
+"There is a lot of good in you, George," said Simmy, engagingly. "I don't
+mind telling you that Lutie says the same thing about you. She has said to
+me more than once that--"
+
+"Oh, don't lie to me!" snarled young Tresslyn, but Simmy did not fail to
+note the quickening of interest in his sullen eyes.
+
+"More than once," he went on, following up the advantage, "she has
+expressed the opinion that with half a chance you would have been more
+than half a man."
+
+"'Gad," said George, wonderingly, "I--I can almost believe you now. That's
+just the way she would have put it. God knows, Simmy, you are not smart
+enough to have said it out of your own head. She really thinks that, does
+she?"
+
+"We'll talk it over to-morrow," said the other, quite well pleased with
+himself. Young Tresslyn was breathing heavily, as if his great lungs had
+expanded beyond their normal capacity. "Move along now."
+
+"If I thought--" began George, but Simmy had slammed the door and was
+directing the chauffeur where to take his fare.
+
+Half an hour later, Mrs. Fenwick's tables were deserted and the dance was
+on. Simmy Dodge, awaiting the moment of dispersion, lost no time in
+seeking Lutie. He had delayed his departure for Anne's home, and had been
+chafing through a long half-hour in the lounge downstairs. She was dancing
+with Percy Wintermill.
+
+"Hello, Dodge," said that young man, halting abruptly and somewhat
+aggressively when Simmy, without apology, clutched his arm as they swung
+by; "thought you'd gone. What d'you come back for?"
+
+"I haven't gone, so I couldn't come back," answered Simmy easily. "I want
+a word or two with Mrs. Tresslyn, old boy, so beat it."
+
+"Oh, I say, you've got a lot of cheek--"
+
+"Come along, Mrs. Tresslyn; don't mind Percy. _This_ is important." With
+Lutie at his side, he made his way through the crowd about the door and
+led her, wondering and not a little disturbed, into one of the ante-rooms,
+where he found a couple of chairs.
+
+She listened to his account of the meeting with her former husband, her
+eyes fixed steadily on his homely little face. There was alarm at first in
+those merry eyes of hers, but his first words were reassuring. He
+convinced her that George was not bent on any act of violence, nor did he
+intend to annoy or distress her by a public encounter.
+
+"As a matter of fact," he said, "he's gone off to bed, and I am quite
+certain that he will not change his mind. I waited here to tell you about
+him, Lutie, because I felt you ought to be prepared in case he does come
+back and you happen to see him skulking around in--"
+
+"This isn't news to me, Simmy," she said seriously. "A half dozen times in
+the past two weeks I have caught sight of him, always in some convenient
+spot where he could watch me without much prospect of being seen. He seems
+to possess an uncanny knowledge of my comings and goings. I never see him
+in the daytime. I felt sure that he would be outside this place to-night,
+so when I came in I made it a point to look up and down the
+street,--casually, of course. There was a man across the street. I couldn't
+be sure, but I thought it was George. It has been getting on my nerves,
+Simmy." Her hand shook slightly, but what he had taken for alarm was gone
+from her eyes. Instead they were shining brightly, and her lips remained
+parted after she had finished speaking.
+
+"Needn't have any fear of him," said he. "George is a gentleman. He still
+worships you, Lutie,--poor devil. He'll probably drink himself to death
+because of it, too. Of course you know that he is completely down and out?
+Little more than a common bum and street loafer."
+
+"He--he doesn't like whiskey," said she, after a moment.
+
+"One doesn't have to like it to drink it, you know."
+
+"He could stop it if he tried."
+
+"Like a flash. But he isn't going to try. At least, not until he feels
+that it's worth while."
+
+She looked up quickly. "What do you mean by that?" Without waiting for him
+to answer, she went on: "How can you expect me to do anything to help him?
+I am sorry for him, but--but, heavens and earth, Simmy, I can't preach
+temperance to a man who kicked me out of his house when he was sober, can
+I?"
+
+"You loved him, didn't you?"
+
+She flushed deeply. "I--I--oh, certainly."
+
+"Never have quite got over loving him, as a matter of fact," said he,
+watching her closely.
+
+She drew a long breath. "You're right, Simmy. I've never ceased to care
+for him. That's what makes it so hard for me to see him going to the dogs,
+as you say."
+
+"I said 'going to the devil,'" corrected Simmy resolutely.
+
+She laid her hand upon his arm. Her face was white now and her eyes were
+dark with pain.
+
+"I shiver when I think of him, Simmy, but not with dread or revulsion. I
+am always thinking of the days when he held me tight in those big, strong
+arms of his,--and that's what makes me shiver. I adored being in his arms.
+I shall never forget. People said that he would never amount to anything.
+They said that he was too strong to work and all that sort of thing. He
+didn't think much of himself, but I _know_ he would have come through all
+right. He is the best of his breed, I can tell you that. Think how young
+he was when we were married! Little more than a boy. He has never had a
+chance to be a man. He is still a boy, puzzled and unhappy because he
+can't think of himself as anything but twenty,--the year when everything
+stopped for him. He's twenty-five now, but he doesn't know it. He is still
+living in his twenty-first year."
+
+"I've never thought of it in that light," said Simmy, considerably
+impressed. "I say, Lutie, if you care so much for him, why not--" He
+stopped in some confusion. Clearly he had been on the point of trespassing
+on dangerous ground. He wiped his forehead.
+
+"I can finish it for you, Simmy, by answering the question," she said,
+with a queer little smile. "I want to help him,--oh, you don't know how my
+heart aches for him!--but what can I do? I am his wife in the sight of God,
+but that is as far as it goes. The law says that I am a free woman and
+George a free man. But don't you see how it is? The law cannot say that we
+shall not love each other. Now can it? It can only say that we are free to
+love some one else if we feel so inclined without being the least bit
+troubled by our marriage vows. But George and I are still married to each
+other, and we are still thinking of our marriage vows. The simple fact
+that we love each other proves a whole lot, now doesn't it, Simmy? We are
+divorced right enough,--South Dakota says so,--but we refuse to think of
+ourselves as anything but husband and wife, lover and sweetheart. Down in
+our hearts we loved each other more on the day the divorce was granted
+than ever before, and we've never stopped loving. I have not spoken a word
+to George in nearly three years--but I know that he has loved me every
+minute of the time. Naturally he does not think that I love him. He thinks
+that I despise him. But I don't despise him, Simmy. If he had followed his
+teachings he would now be married to some one else--some one of his
+mother's choosing--and I should be loathing him instead of feeling sorry
+for him. That would have convinced me that he was the rotter the world
+said he was when he turned against me. I tell you, Simmy, it is gratifying
+to know that the man you love is drinking himself to death because he's
+true to you."
+
+"That's an extraordinary thing to say," said Simmy, squinting. "You are
+happy because that poor devil is--"
+
+"Now don't say that!" she cried. "I didn't say I was happy. I said I was
+gratified--because he is true to me in spite of everything. I suppose it's
+more than you can grasp, Simmy,--you dear old simpleton." Her eyes were
+shining very brightly, and her cheeks were warm and rosy. "You see, it's
+my husband who is being true to me. Every wife likes to have that thing
+proved to her."
+
+"Quixotic," said Simmy. "He isn't your husband, my dear."
+
+"Oh, yes, he is," said Lutie earnestly. "Just as much as he ever was."
+
+"The law says he is not."
+
+"What are you trying to get me to say?"
+
+"I may as well come to the point. Would you marry him again if he were to
+come to you,--now?"
+
+"Do you mean, would I live with him again?"
+
+"You couldn't do that without marrying him, you know."
+
+"I am already married to him in the sight of God," said she, stubbornly.
+
+"Good Lord! Would you go back to him without a ceremony of--"
+
+"If I made up my mind to live with him, yes."
+
+"Oh, I see. And may I inquire just what your state of mind would be if he
+came to you to-morrow?"
+
+"You have got me cornered, Simmy," she said, her lip trembling. There was
+a hunted look in her eyes. "I--I don't know what I should do. I want him,
+Simmy,--I want my man, my husband, but to be perfectly honest with you, I
+don't believe he has sunk low enough yet for me to claim the complete
+victory I desire."
+
+"Victory?" gasped Simmy. "Do you want to pick him out of the gutter? Is
+that your idea of triumph over the Tresslyns? Are you--"
+
+"When the time comes, Simmy," said she cryptically, "I will hold out my
+hand to him, and then we'll have a _real_ man before you can say Jack
+Robinson. He will come up like a cork, and he'll be so happy that he'll
+stay up forever."
+
+"Don't be too sure of that. I've seen better men than George stay down
+forever."
+
+"Yes, but George doesn't want to stay down. He wants me. That's all he
+wants in this world."
+
+"Do you imagine that he will come to you, crawling on his knees, to plead
+for forgiveness or--"
+
+"By no means! He'd never sink so low as that. That's why I tell you that
+he is a man, a real man. There isn't one in a thousand who wouldn't be
+begging, and whining, and even threatening the woman if he were in
+George's position. That's why I'm so sure."
+
+"What do you expect?"
+
+"When his face grows a little thinner, and the Tresslyn in him is drowned,
+I expect to ask him to come and see me," she said slowly.
+
+"Good Lord!" muttered Simmy.
+
+She sprang to her feet, her face glowing. "And I don't believe I can stand
+seeing it grow much thinner," she cried. "He looks starved, Simmy. I can't
+put it off much longer. Now I must go back. Thank you for the warning. You
+don't understand him, but--thank you, just the same. I never miss seeing
+him when he thinks he is perfectly invisible. You see, Simmy, I too have
+eyes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+The next afternoon but one Templeton Thorpe was on the operating table. In
+a private sitting-room on the third floor of the great hospital, three
+people sat waiting for the result--two women and a man. They were the
+Tresslyns, mother, son and daughter. There were unopened boxes of flowers
+on the table in the middle of the room. The senders of these flowers were
+men, and their cards were inside the covers, damp with the waters of
+preservation. They were for Anne Thorpe, and they were from men who looked
+ahead even as she had looked ahead. But the roses and orchids they sent
+were never to be seen by Anne Thorpe. They were left in the boxes with
+their little white envelopes attached, for Anne was not thinking of roses
+as she sat there by the window, looking down into the street, waiting for
+the word from upstairs,--the inevitable word. Later on the free wards would
+be filled with the fragrance of American Beauties, and certain smug
+gentlemen would never be thanked. No one had sent flowers to Templeton
+Thorpe, the sick man.
+
+There had been a brief conference on the day before between Anne and
+Braden. The latter went to her with the word that he was to operate,
+provided she offered no objection.
+
+"You know what an operation will mean, Anne," he said steadily.
+
+"The end to his agony," she remarked. Outwardly she was calm, inwardly she
+shivered.
+
+"It is absurd to say that he has one chance in a million to pull through.
+He hasn't a single chance. I appreciate that fact and--so does he."
+
+"You are willing to do this thing, Braden?"
+
+"I am willing," he said. His face was like death.
+
+"And if I should object, what then?" she asked, almost inaudibly.
+
+"I should refuse to operate. I cannot pretend that an operation is the
+only means left to save his life. It is just the other way round. We are
+supposed to take extreme measures in extreme cases, but always with the
+idea of prolonging human life. In this instance, I am bound to tell you,
+that I don't believe there is a chance to save him. We must look the
+matter squarely in the face."
+
+"You said that there was absolutely no chance." She leaned heavily against
+the table.
+
+"I believe there is no chance, but I am not all-seeing, Anne. We never
+know,--absolutely. Miracles happen. They are not performed by man,
+however."
+
+"Have you spoken to Dr. Bates?"
+
+"Yes. He is coming to the hospital, to--to be with me."
+
+"He will not attempt to prevent the operation?"
+
+"No. He does not advise or sanction it, but he--understands."
+
+"And you will be held responsible for everything?"
+
+"I suppose so," said he bitterly.
+
+She was silent for a long time. "I think I shall object to the operation,
+Braden," she said at last.
+
+"For my sake and not for his, I take it," he said.
+
+"I may as well give him the tablets myself, as to consent to your method
+of--of--" She could not finish the sentence.
+
+"It isn't quite the same," he said. "I act with the authority of the law
+behind me. You would be violating the law."
+
+"Still you would be killing a fellow creature," she protested. "I--I cannot
+allow you to sacrifice yourself, Braden."
+
+"You forget that I have no false notions as to the question of right and
+wrong in cases of this kind. I assure you that if I undertake this
+operation it will be with a single purpose in mind: to save and prolong
+the life of my patient. The worst you can say of me is that I am convinced
+beforehand that I shall fail. If I were to act upon the principles I
+advocate, I should not feel obliged to go through the travesty of an
+operation. The time may come when cases of this sort will be laid before a
+commission, and if in their judgment it is deemed humane to do so, a drug
+will be administered and the horrors that are likely to attend my efforts
+of to-morrow will be impossible. There is no such law to sustain me now,
+no commission, no decision by experts and familiars to back me up, so I
+can only obey the commands of the patient himself,--and do the best I can
+for him. He insists on having the operation performed--and by me. I am one
+of the family. I am his only blood relative. It is meet and just, says he,
+that I should be the one, and not some disinterested, callous outsider.
+That is the way he puts it, and I have not denied him."
+
+"It is horrible," she moaned, shuddering. "Why do you ask me to consent?
+Why do you put it up to me?"
+
+"You now place me in the position of the surgeon who advises a prompt--I
+mean, who says that an operation is imperative."
+
+"But that isn't the truth. You do not advise it."
+
+He drew a long breath. "Yes, I do advise it. There is no other way. I
+shall try to save him. I _do_ advise it."
+
+She left him and went over to the fireplace, where she stood with her back
+toward him for many minutes, staring into the coals. He did not change his
+position. He did not even look at her. His eyes were fixed on the rug near
+the closed door. There was a warm, soft red in that rare old carpet.
+Finally she turned to him.
+
+"I shall not let you take all of the responsibility, Braden," she said.
+"It isn't fair. I shall not oppose you. You have my consent to go on with
+it."
+
+"I assume all responsibility," he said, abruptly, almost gruffly.
+
+"You are wrong there, Braden," she said, slowly. "My husband assumes the
+responsibility. It is his act, not yours. I shall always regard it in that
+light, no matter what may happen. It is his command."
+
+He tried to smile. "Perhaps that is the right way to look at it," he said,
+"but it is a poor way, after all." For a full minute they stood looking
+into each other's eyes. "Then I shall go ahead with the--arrangements," he
+said, compressing his lips.
+
+She nodded her head.
+
+"Before I go any farther, Anne, I want to tell you what happened this
+morning when his lawyer was here. I sent for him. There is a clause in my
+grandfather's will bequeathing to me the sum of one hundred thousand
+dollars. I insisted that a codicil be added to the instrument, revoking
+that clause. My grandfather was obstinate at first. Finally he agreed to
+discuss the matter privately with Judge Hollenback. A couple of hours ago
+Wade and Murray witnessed the codicil which deprives me of any interest in
+my grandfather's estate. I renounce everything. There will be no contest
+on my part. Not a penny is to come to me."
+
+She stared at him. "You refuse to take what rightfully belongs to you? Now
+that _is_ quixotic, Braden. You shall not--"
+
+"The matter is closed, Anne. We need not discuss it," he said firmly. "I
+had to tell you, that's all. The reason should be obvious. You know, of
+course, that the bulk of his estate, apart from the amount to be paid to
+you--" She winced perceptibly--"aside from that amount is to go to various
+charities and institutions devoted to the betterment of the human race. I
+need not add that these institutions are of a scientific character. I
+wanted you to know beforehand that I shall profit in no way by the death
+of my grandfather." After a significant pause he repeated distinctly: "I
+shall profit _in no way_."
+
+She lowered her eyes for an instant. "I think I understand, Braden," she
+said, looking up to meet his gaze unwaveringly. Her voice was low, even
+husky. She saw finality in his eyes.
+
+"He seemed to feel that I ought to know of the clause I mention,"
+explained Braden dully. "Perhaps he thought it would--it might be an
+inducement to me to--to go ahead. God! What a thought!"
+
+"He allowed you to read it?"
+
+"A copy, last night. The real instrument was produced to-day by Judge
+Hollenback at my request, and the change was made in the presence of
+witnesses."
+
+"Where is it now?"
+
+"Judge Hollenback took it away with him. That's all I know about it."
+
+"I am sorry," she said, a queer glint in her eyes. "Sorry he took it away
+with him, I mean. There is nothing I can do--now."
+
+She sent for her mother that night. The next morning Simmy Dodge came down
+with George Tresslyn, who steadfastly refused to enter the house but rode
+to the hospital with his mother and sister in Simmy's automobile. Anne did
+not see Braden again after that momentous interview in the library. He had
+effaced himself.
+
+Now she sat in the window looking down into the street, dull and listless
+and filled with the dread of the future that had once looked so engaging
+to her. The picture that avarice and greed had painted was gone. In its
+place was an honest bit of colour on the canvas,--a drab colour and
+noteless.
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn, unmoved and apparently disinterested, ran idly through the
+pages of an illustrated periodical. Her furs lay across a chair in the
+corner of the room. They were of chinchilla and expressed a certain
+arrogance that could not be detached by space from the stately figure with
+the lorgnon. The year had done little toward bending that proud head. The
+cold, classic beauty of this youngish mother of the other occupants of the
+room was as yet absolutely unmarred by the worries that come with
+disillusionment. If she felt rebellious scorn for the tall disappointment
+who still bore and always would bear the honoured name of Tresslyn she
+gave no sign: if the slightest resentment existed in her soul toward the
+daughter who was no longer as wax in her hands, she hid the fact securely
+behind a splendid mask of unconcern. As for the old man upstairs she had
+but a single thought: an insistent one it was, however, and based itself
+upon her own dread of the thing that was killing him.
+
+George Tresslyn, white-faced and awed, sat like a graven image, looking at
+the floor. He was not there because he wanted to be, but because a rather
+praiseworthy allegiance to Anne had mastered his repugnance. Somewhere in
+his benumbed intelligence flickered a spark of light which revealed to him
+his responsibility as the head of the family. Anne was his sister. She was
+lovely. He would have liked to be proud of her. If it were not for the
+millions of that old man upstairs he could have been proud of her, and by
+an odd reasoning, even more ashamed of himself than he was now. He was not
+thinking of the Thorpe millions, however, as he sat there brooding; he was
+not wondering what Anne would do for him when she had her pay in hand. He
+was dumbly praising himself for having refused to sell his soul to
+Templeton Thorpe in exchange for the fifty thousand dollars with which the
+old man had baited him on three separate occasions, and wishing that Lutie
+could know. It was something that she would have to approve of in him! It
+was rather pitiful that he should have found a grain of comfort in the
+fact that he had refused to kill a fellow man!
+
+Anne took several turns up and down the room. There was a fine line
+between her dark, brooding eyes, and her nostrils were distended as if
+breathing had become difficult for her.
+
+"I told him once that if such a thing ever happened to me, I'd put an end
+to myself just as soon as I knew," she said, addressing no one, but
+speaking with a distinctness that was startling. "I told him that one
+would be justified in taking one's life under such circumstances. Why
+should one go on suffering--"
+
+"What are you saying, Anne?" broke in her mother sharply. George looked
+up, astonishment struggling to make its way through the dull cloud on his
+face.
+
+Anne stopped short. For a moment she appeared to be dazed. She went paler
+than before, and swayed. Her brother started up from his chair, alarmed.
+
+"I say, Anne old girl, get hold of yourself!" he exclaimed. "None of that,
+you know. You mustn't go fainting or anything like that. Walk around with
+me for a couple of minutes. You'll be all right in--"
+
+"Oh, I'm not going to faint," she cried, but grasped his arm just the
+same.
+
+"They always walked us around on the football field when we got woozy--"
+
+"Go out and see if you can find out anything, George," said she, pulling
+herself together. "Surely it must be over by this time."
+
+"Simmy's on the lookout," said George. "He'll let us know."
+
+"Be patient, my dear," said Mrs. Tresslyn, wiping a fine moisture from her
+upper lip, where it had appeared with Anne's astounding observation. "You
+will not have to wait much longer. Be--"
+
+Anne faced her, an unmistakable sneer on her lips. "I'm used to waiting,"
+she said huskily.
+
+"She has waited a year and more," said George aggressively, glowering at
+his mother. It was a significant but singularly unhappy remark.
+
+For the first time in their lives, they saw their mother in tears. It was
+so incomprehensible that at first both Anne and her brother laughed, not
+in mirth, but because they were so stupefied that they did not know what
+they were doing, and laughter was the simplest means of expressing an
+acute sense of embarrassment. Then they stood aloof and watched the
+amazing exposition, fascinated, unbelieving. It did not occur to either of
+them to go to the side of this sobbing woman whose eyes had always been
+dry and cold, this mother who had wiped away their tears a hundred times
+and more with dainty lace handkerchiefs not unlike the one she now pressed
+so tightly to her own wet cheeks. They could not understand this thing
+happening to her. They could not believe that after all their mother
+possessed the power to shed tears, to sob as other women do, to choke and
+snivel softly, to blubber inelegantly; they had always looked upon her as
+proof against emotion. Their mother was crying! Her back was toward them,
+evidence of a new weakness in her armour. It shook with the effort she
+made to control the cowardly spasmodic sobs. And why was she in tears?
+What had brought this amazing thing to pass? What right had she to cry?
+
+They watched her stupidly as she walked away from them toward the window.
+They were not unfeeling; they simply did not know how to act in the face
+of this marvel. They looked at each other in bewilderment. What had
+happened? Only the moment before she had been as cold and as magnificently
+composed as ever she had been, and now! Now she was like other people. She
+had come down to the level of the utterly commonplace. She was just a
+plain, ordinary woman. It was unbelievable.
+
+They did not feel sorry for her. A second time, no doubt, would find them
+humanly sympathetic, troubled, distressed, but this first time they could
+only wonder, they could only doubt their senses. It would have been most
+offensive in them to have let her see they noticed anything unusual in her
+behaviour. At least that is the way they felt about it in their failure to
+understand.
+
+For five minutes Mrs. Tresslyn stood with her back to them. Gradually the
+illy-stifled sobs subsided and, as they still looked on curiously, the
+convulsive heaving of her shoulders grew less perceptible, finally ceasing
+altogether. Her tall figure straightened to its full, regal height; her
+chin went up to its normal position; her wet handkerchief was stuffed,
+with dignified deliberateness, into the gold mesh bag. A minute more to
+prove that she had completely mastered her emotions, and then she faced
+her children. It was as if nothing had happened. She was the calm and
+imperious mother they had always known. Involuntarily, Anne uttered a deep
+sigh of relief. George blinked his eyes and also fell to wondering if they
+had served him honestly, or if, on the other hand, he too had merely
+imagined something incredible.
+
+They did not question her. The incident was closed. They were never to ask
+her why she had wept in their presence. They were never to know what had
+moved her to tears. Instinctively and quite naturally they shrank from the
+closer intimacy that such a course would involve. Their mother was herself
+once more. She was no longer like other women. They could not be in touch
+with her. And so they were never to know why she had cried. They only knew
+that for a brief space she had been as silly as any ordinary mortal could
+be, and they were rather glad to have caught her at it.
+
+Years afterward, however, George was to say to Anne: "Queer thing, wasn't
+it, that time she cried? Do you remember?" And Anne was to reply: "I've
+never forgotten it. It _was_ queer."
+
+Nor did Mrs. Tresslyn offer the slightest explanation for her conduct. She
+did not even smile shamefacedly, as any one else certainly would have done
+in apology. She was, however, vaguely pleased with her children. They had
+behaved splendidly. They were made of the right stuff, after all! She had
+not been humbled.
+
+Apathy was restored. George slumped down in his chair and set his jaws
+hard. Mrs. Tresslyn glanced idly through the pages of a magazine, while
+Anne, taking up her position once more at the window, allowed her thoughts
+to slip back into the inevitable groove. They were not centred upon
+Templeton Thorpe as an object of pity but as a subject for speculation:
+she was thinking of the thing that Braden was doing, and of his part in
+this life and death affair. She was trying to picture him up there in that
+glaring little room cutting the life out of a fellow creature under the
+very eyes of the world.
+
+The door was opened swiftly but softly. Simmy Dodge, white as a sheet,
+came into the room.... Mrs. Tresslyn went over to the window, where Anne
+was sitting, white and dry-eyed.
+
+"It is no more than we expected, dear," said she quietly. "He had no
+chance. You were prepared. It is all over. You ought to be thankful that
+his sufferings are over. He--"
+
+Anne was not listening. She broke in with a question to Simmy.
+
+"What was it that you said happened while you were in the room? Before the
+ether, I mean. Tell me again,--and slowly."
+
+Simmy cleared his throat. It was very tight and dry. He was now afraid of
+death.
+
+"It was awfully affecting," he said, wiping the moisture from his brow.
+"Awfully. That young interne fellow told me about it. Just before they
+gave the ether, Mr. Thorpe shook hands with Brady. He was smiling. They
+all heard him say 'Good-bye, my boy,--and thank you.' And Brady leaned over
+and kissed him on the forehead. The chap couldn't quite hear, but says he
+thinks he whispered, 'Good-bye, granddaddy.' Awfully affecting scene--"
+
+"'Good-bye, granddaddy,'" Anne repeated, dully. Then she covered her eyes
+with her hands.
+
+Simmy fidgeted. He wanted to help, but felt oddly that he was very much
+out of place. George's big hand gripped his arm. At any other time he
+would have winced with pain, but now he had no thought for himself.
+Moreover, there was something wonderfully sustaining in the powerful hand
+that had been laid upon his.
+
+"She ought not to take it so hard, George," he began.
+
+"They told you he never came out of the anæsthetic," said George, in a
+half-whisper. "Just died--like that?"
+
+"That's what he said. Little chap with blond hair and nose-glasses. You
+remember seeing him--Yes, he told me. He was in there. Saw it all. Gosh, I
+don't see how they can do it. This fellow seemed to be very much upset, at
+that. He looked scared. I say, George, do you know what the pylorus is?"
+
+"Pylorus? No."
+
+"I wish I knew. This fellow seemed to think that Brady made some sort of a
+mistake. He wouldn't say much, however. Some sort of a slip, I gathered.
+Something to do with the pylorus, I know. It must be a vital spot."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+The day after the funeral, George Tresslyn called to see his sister. He
+found that it required a new sort of courage on his part to enter the
+house, even after his hesitation about pressing the door-bell. He was not
+afraid of any living man, and yet he was oppressed by the uncanny fear
+that Templeton Thorpe was still alive and waiting somewhere in the dark
+old house, ready to impose further demands upon his cupidity. The young
+man was none too steady beforehand, and now he was actually shaking. When
+Murray opened the door, he was confronted by an extremely pallid visitor
+who shot a furtive look over his head and down the hall before inquiring
+whether Mrs. Thorpe was at home.
+
+"She is, Mr. George," said Murray. "You telephoned half an hour ago, sir."
+
+"So I did," said George nervously. He was not offended by Murray's obvious
+comment upon his unstable condition, for he knew--even though Murray did
+not--that no drop of liquor had passed his lips in four days.
+
+"Mrs. Thorpe is expecting you."
+
+"Is she alone, Murray?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Would you mind stepping inside, sir? It's a raw wind that is
+blowing. I think I must have taken a bit of a cold yesterday during--ahem!
+Thank you, sir. I will tell Mrs. Thorpe that you are here." Murray was
+rather testy. He had been imbibing.
+
+George shivered. "I say, Murray, would you mind giving me a drop of
+something to warm me up? I--"
+
+The butler regarded him fixedly, even severely. "You have had quite enough
+already, sir," he said firmly, but politely.
+
+"Oh, come now! I haven't had a drink in God knows how long. I--but never
+mind! If that's the way you feel about it, I withdraw my request. Keep
+your darned old brandy. But let me tell you one thing, Murray; I don't
+like your impertinence. Just remember that, will you?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir," said Murray, unoffended. He was seeing with a
+clearer vision. "You are ill. I mistook it for--"
+
+"No, I'm not ill. And I'll forgive you, too, Murray," he added
+impulsively. "I daresay you were justified. My fame has preceded me. Tell
+Mrs. Thorpe I'm here, will you? Run along; the decanter is quite safe."
+
+A few minutes later he was ushered into Anne's sitting-room upstairs. He
+stopped short just inside the door, struck by the pallor, the haggardness
+of his sister's face.
+
+"Oh, I say, Anne!" he exclaimed. "You're not taking it so hard as all
+this, I hope. My Lord, girlie, you look--you look--why, you can't possibly
+feel like this about him. What the deuce are--"
+
+"Close the door, George," she commanded. Her voice sounded hollow,
+lifeless to him. She was sitting bolt upright on the huge, comfortable
+couch in front of the grate fire. He had dreaded seeing her in black. She
+had worn it the day before. He remembered that she had worn more of it
+than seemed necessary to him. It had made her appear clumsy and over-fed.
+He was immensely relieved to find that she now wore a rose-coloured
+pignoir, and that it was wrapped very closely about her slim, long figure,
+as if she were afflicted by the cold and was futilely trying to protect
+her shivering flesh. He shuffled across the room and sat down beside her.
+"I'm glad you came. It is--oh, it is horribly lonely here in this dreadful
+house. You--"
+
+"Hasn't mother been down to see you?" he demanded. "She ought to be here.
+You need her. Confound it, Anne, what sort of a woman is--"
+
+"Hush! She telephoned. I said that I preferred to be alone. But I'm glad
+you came, George." She laid her hand on his. "You are able to feel sorry
+for me. Mother isn't."
+
+"You're looking awfully seedy, Anne. I still say she ought to be here to
+look after you. It's her place."
+
+"I'm all right. Of course, I look like the dickens, but who wouldn't? It
+has been terrible. Weeks and weeks of it. You'll never know what--" She
+shuddered so violently that he threw his arm about her and drew her close.
+
+"Well, it's all over now, girlie. Brace up. Sunshine from now on. It was a
+bad day's work when you let yourself in for it, but that's all over now."
+
+"Yes, it's all over," she said slowly. "Everything's all over." Her wide,
+sombre eyes fixed their gaze upon the rippling blue flames in the grate.
+
+"Well, smile a little. It's time some one of us Tresslyns had a chance to
+grin a little without bearing it."
+
+She raised her eyes and slowly inspected this big brother of hers.
+Seemingly she had not taken him in as a whole up to that moment of
+consideration. A slight frown appeared on her brow.
+
+"I've been hearing rather bad things about you, George," she said, after a
+moment. "Now that I look at you, you do look pretty shaky,--and pretty well
+threshed out. Is it true? Have you been as bad as they say?"
+
+He flushed. "Has Simmy Dodge been talking?"
+
+"Simmy is your friend, George," she said sharply.
+
+"It's always a fellow's friends who do the most talking," said he, "and
+that's what hurts. You don't mind what your enemies say."
+
+"Simmy has not mentioned your name to me in weeks."
+
+"Well, I don't call that being friendly. He knows everything. He ought to
+have told you just how rotten I've been, because you could believe Simmy.
+You can't believe every one, Anne, but I know Simmy would give it to you
+straight. Yes, I've been all that could be expected. The only thing I
+haven't been is a liar."
+
+"Can't you brace up, George? You are really the best of the lot, if you
+only knew it. You--"
+
+"I don't drink because I like it, you know, Anne," he said earnestly.
+
+"I see," she said, nodding her head slowly. "You drink because it's the
+surest way to prove to Lutie that you are still in love with her. Isn't
+that it?" She spoke ironically.
+
+"When I think how much you would have liked Lutie if she'd had a chance
+to--"
+
+"Don't tell it to me, George," she interrupted. "I didn't in the least
+care whom you married. As a matter of fact, I think you married the right
+girl."
+
+"You do?" he cried eagerly.
+
+"Yes. But she didn't marry the right man. If you had been the right man
+and had been taken away from her as you were, she would have died of a
+broken heart long before this. Logic for you, isn't it?"
+
+"She's got too much sense to die of a broken heart. And that isn't saying
+she wasn't in love with me, either."
+
+"Oh, well," she sighed, "it doesn't matter. She didn't die, she didn't go
+to the bad, she didn't put on a long face and weep her eyes out,--as I
+recall them they were exceedingly pretty eyes, which may account for her
+determination to spare them,--and she didn't do anything that a sensible
+woman would have done under the circumstances. A sensible woman would have
+set herself up as a martyr and bawled her eyes out. But Lutie, being an
+ignoramus, overlooked her opportunities, and now see where she is! I am
+told that she is exasperatingly virtuous, abstemious and exceedingly well-
+dressed, and all on an income derived from thirty thousand dollars that
+came out of the Tresslyn treasure chest. Almost incomprehensible, isn't
+it? Nothing sensible about Lutie, is there?"
+
+"Are you trying to be sarcastic, Anne?" demanded George, contriving to sit
+up a little straighter on the sofa. He was not in the habit of exerting
+himself in these days of unregeneration. Anne was always smarter than he;
+he never knew just how much smarter she was but he knew when to feel
+apprehensive.
+
+"You wanted to see me, George," she said abruptly. "What is it you want?
+Money?"
+
+He scowled. "I might have known you would ask that question. No, I don't
+want money. I could have had some of old man Thorpe's money a couple of
+weeks ago if I'd been mean enough to take it, and I'm not mean enough to
+take it now--from you. I want to talk to you about Braden Thorpe."
+
+For a moment or two Anne looked into his frowning eyes, and then she drew
+back into the corner of the couch, a queer shudder running through her
+body.
+
+"About Braden?" she asked, striving to make her voice sound firm and
+unstrained.
+
+"Where is he? Staying here in the house?"
+
+"Of course not. I don't know where he is. He has not been near me
+since--since the day before--" She spoke rapidly, jerkily, and did not deem
+it necessary to complete the sentence.
+
+George had the delicacy to hesitate. He even weighed, in that brief
+instant, the advisability of saying what he had come to say to her. Then a
+queer sense of duty, of brother to sister, took the place of doubt. She
+was his sister and she needed him now as never before, needed him now
+despite his self-admitted worthlessness.
+
+"See here, Anne, I'm going to speak plainly," he blurted out, leaning
+forward. "You must not see Brady Thorpe again. If he comes here, you must
+refuse to receive him."
+
+Her eyes were very dark and lustreless against the increased pallor of her
+cheeks. "He will not come here, George," she said, scarcely above a
+whisper. She moistened her lips. "It isn't necessary to--to warn me."
+
+"Mind you, I don't say a word against him," he made haste to explain.
+"It's what people will say that troubles me. Perhaps you don't know what
+they are going to say, Anne, but I do."
+
+"Oh, I know what they will say," she muttered. She looked straight into
+his eyes. "They will say that he killed his grandfather--purposely."
+
+"It doesn't matter that they say he killed his grandfather, Anne," said he
+slowly, "so much as that he killed your husband. That's the point."
+
+"What have you heard, George?" she asked, in dread of his reply.
+
+"Barely enough to let me understand that where one man is talking now, a
+hundred will be talking next week. There was a young doctor up there in
+the operating room. He doesn't say it in so many words, but he suspects
+that it wasn't an accidental slip of the--don't look like that, Anne! Gee,
+you looked awfully scary just then." He wiped his brow. "I--I thought you
+were about to faint. I say, we'll drop the matter this instant if--"
+
+"I'm not going to faint," she exclaimed. "You need not be afraid. What is
+it that this young doctor says? And how do you happen to have heard--"
+
+"It's what he said to Simmy," interrupted George, quickly. "Simmy let it
+slip last night. I was in his apartment. Then I made him tell me the whole
+thing. He says it is certain that if this young fellow saw anything wrong,
+the others also did. And you know there were three pretty big surgeons
+there looking on. Bates and those other fellows, you remember. It--it looks
+bad, Anne. That's why I tell you that you must not see Brady again."
+
+"And what has all this to do with my not seeing Braden again?" she
+demanded steadily.
+
+He stared. "Why,--why, you just mustn't, that's all. Can't you understand?"
+
+"You mean that I ought not to be put in the position of sharing the blame
+with him. Is that it?"
+
+"Well, if there should be a--er--criminal investigation, you'd be a blamed
+sight better off if you kept out of it, my girl. And what's more to the
+point, you can't afford to have people say that you are determined to do
+the thing they believe you set out to do in the beginning,--and that is to
+marry Braden as soon as--"
+
+"Stop right there, George!" she cried hotly. "Other people may say what
+they please, but the same privilege is not extended to you. Don't forget
+that you are my brother."
+
+"I'm sorry, Anne. I didn't mean it in that way. Of course, I know that
+it's all over between you and Brady. Just the same, I mean what I say when
+I advise you to see nothing of him. I've given you the hint, that's all."
+
+"And I am sorry I spoke as I did just now," she said listlessly. "Thanks,
+George. You are looking out for me, aren't you? I didn't expect it.
+Somehow, I've always felt that nobody cared whether I--"
+
+"I'll look out for you as long as I'm able to stand," said he, setting his
+jaw. "I wish you could love me, Anne. I think we'd be pretty good pals,
+after all, if we got to thinking more about each other and less about
+ourselves. Of course, I'm a down-and-outer and don't deserve much in the
+way of--"
+
+"You don't deserve sympathy," she interrupted, laying a firm hand upon
+his, "and I know you are not asking for it. Encouragement is what you
+need." Her voice shook slightly. "You want some one to love you. I
+understand. It's what we all want, I suppose. I'll try to be a real, true
+sister from now on, George. It--it will not be very hard for me to love
+you, I'm sure," she concluded, with a whimsical little smile that went
+straight to his sore, disfigured heart. A lump came into his throat and
+his eyes began to smart so suddenly that a mist came over them before he
+could blink his lids. He was very young, was George Tresslyn, despite the
+things that go to make men old.
+
+"Gee!" he said, astonished by his own emotions. Then he gripped her
+slender, ringless hand in his huge palm,--and was further surprised to
+discover that she did not wince. "We're not acting like Tresslyns at all,
+Anne. We're acting just like regular people."
+
+"Do you know that you are a very lucky person, George?" she said abruptly.
+He blinked. "You don't know it, but you are. I wish I had the same chance
+that you have."
+
+"What are you talking about?" he demanded.
+
+"I wish I had the same chance to be happy that you have."
+
+"Happy? Good Lord, I'll never be happy without Lutie, and you know it," he
+groaned.
+
+"That is just the chance you still have, Buddy. It isn't inconceivable
+that you may get Lutie back, while I--well, you know how it is with me. I'm
+done for, to put it plainly."
+
+"Lutie wouldn't wipe her feet on me," he said, struggling between hope and
+conviction. "I'd let her do it like a flash if she wanted to, but--Oh,
+what's the use! You and I have queered ourselves forever, you with Brady
+and I with Lutie. It's an infernal shame you didn't take Brady when you--"
+
+"Yes, we've queered ourselves," said she, struck by the phrase that fell
+from his lips. It was not Anne's habit to use slang, but somehow George's
+way of putting the situation into words was so aggravatingly complete that
+she almost resented his prior use of an expression that she had never used
+before in her life. It _did_ sum up the business, neatly and compactly.
+Strange that she had never thought of that admirable word before! "And of
+the two of us, George, I am the worst offender. I went about my mistake
+deliberately. I suppose it is only right that I should pay the heavier
+price."
+
+"If I thought there was a chance to get Lutie back, I'd--" But there he
+stopped as he always stopped. He had never been able to end that sentence,
+and he had got just that far with it a million times or more.
+
+"Have you tried to get her back?" she demanded suddenly, a flash of
+interest in her eyes. It was to grow into genuine enthusiasm. The impulse
+at the back of her mind was to develop into an idea, later into a strong,
+definite purpose. It had for its foundation a hitherto unsuspected desire
+to do good.
+
+"Great Scot, no!"
+
+"Then _try_, George," she cried, a new thrill in her voice.
+
+He was bewildered. "Try what?"
+
+"I would stake my life on it, George, if you set about it in the right way
+you can win Lutie all over again. All you have to do is to let her see
+that you are a man, a real man. There's no reason in the world why she
+shouldn't remember what love really is, and that she once had it through
+you. There's a lot in love that doesn't come out in a couple of months and
+she has the sense to know that she was cheated out of it. If I am not
+greatly mistaken she is just like all other women. We don't stop loving
+before we get our fill of it, or until we've at least found out that it
+bores us to be loved by the man who starts the fire going. Now, Lutie must
+realise that she never got her full share. She wasn't through loving you.
+She had barely begun. It doesn't matter how badly a woman is treated, she
+goes on loving her man until some other man proves that she is wrong, and
+he cannot prove it to her until she has had all of the love that she can
+get out of the first man. That's why women stick to the men who beat them.
+Of course, this doesn't apply to unmoral women. You know the kind I mean.
+But it is true of all honest women, and Lutie appears to be more honest
+than we suspected. She had two or three months of you, George, and then
+came the crash. You can't tell me that she stopped wanting to be loved by
+you just as she was loving you the hardest. She may some day marry another
+man, but she will never forget that she had you for three months and that
+they were not enough."
+
+"Great Scot!" said George once more, staring open-mouthed at his
+incomprehensible sister. "Are you in earnest?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Why, she ought to despise me."
+
+"Quite true, she should," said Anne coolly. "The only thing that keeps her
+from despising you is that uncompleted honeymoon. It's like giving a
+starving man just half enough to eat. He is still hungry."
+
+"Do you mean to say that you'd like to see me make it up again with Lutie?
+You'd like to have me marry her again?"
+
+"Why not? I'd find some happiness in seeing you happy, I suppose. I dare
+say it is self interest on my part, after all. In a way, it makes for my
+happiness, so therein I am selfish."
+
+"Bosh! You'll be happy, Anne, but not through me. You are the prettiest
+girl in New York, one of the richest, one of the smartest--"
+
+"See here, George," she said, a hard note stealing into her voice, "you
+and I are pretty much alike in one respect. Surprising as it may seem, we
+have been able to love some one besides ourselves. And still more
+surprising, we appear to be constant. You are no more constant in your
+love for Lutie than I am in my love for the man I shall never have. My man
+despises me. Your woman merely pities you. You can retake what you have
+lost. I cannot. But why shouldn't I go on loving my man, just as you are
+loving your woman? Why shouldn't I?" she cried out fiercely.
+
+He gulped. "Oh, I say, Anne, I--I didn't dream that it meant so much to
+you. I have always thought of you as--as--er--sort of indifferent to--But,
+that just shows how little a fellow knows about his sister. A sister never
+seems to be given the same flesh and blood feelings that other women have.
+I'm sorry I said what I did a little while ago. I take it back, Anne. If
+you've got a chance to get Brady back--"
+
+"Stop! I spoke of your affairs, George, because they are not altogether
+hopeless. We cannot discuss mine."
+
+"And as for that story, who is going to prove that Braden intentionally--"
+He checked the words, and switched off along another line. "Even though he
+did put a merciful end to Mr. Thorpe's suffering, what selfish motive can
+be charged to him? Not one. He doesn't get a dollar of the estate, Simmy
+says. He alone loved that old man. No one else in the world loved him. He
+did the best he could for him, and he doesn't care what any one thinks
+about it. I came here to warn you, to tell you to be careful, but now that
+I know what it means to you, I--"
+
+She arose. Facing him, she said slowly, deliberately: "I believe that
+Braden tried to save his grandfather's life. He asked my consent to the
+operation. I gave it. When I gave it, I was morally certain that Mr.
+Thorpe was to die on the operating table. I wanted him to die. I wanted an
+end put to his suffering. But I did not want Braden to be the one. Some
+day I may have the courage to tell you something, George, that will shock
+you as nothing on earth has ever shocked you. I will tell you the real
+reason why Templeton Thorpe married me. I--but not now. I wish that the
+whole world could know that if Braden did take his own way to end the
+suffering of that unhappy old man, I have no word of condemnation for him.
+He did the humane thing."
+
+George remained seated, watching her with perplexed, dubious eyes. It was
+a matter that deserved mental concentration. He could best achieve this by
+abstaining from physical indulgence. Here was his sister, the wife of the
+dead man, actually condoning an act that was almost certain to be
+professionally excoriated,--behind the hand, so to say,--even though there
+was no one to contend that a criminal responsibility should be put upon
+Braden Thorpe. He was, for the moment, capable of forgetting his own
+troubles in considering the peril that attended Anne.
+
+"Oh, I say, Anne, you'll have to be careful what you say. It's all right
+to say it to me, but for heaven's sake don't go telling these things to
+other people." He was serious, desperately serious. "No one will
+understand. No one will see it as you do. There has been a lot of talk
+about Brady's views and all that. People are not very charitable toward
+him. They stick to the idea that God ought to do such jobs as Brady
+advocates, and I don't know but they are right. So now you just keep your
+mouth closed about all this. It is Braden's affair, it's his lookout, not
+yours. The least said, the better, take it from me. You--"
+
+"We will talk of something else, George, if you don't mind," she said,
+relaxing suddenly. She sat down beside him once more, rather limply and
+with a deep, long-drawn sigh, as if she had spent herself in this single
+exposition of feeling. "Now what do you intend to do in regard to Lutie?
+Are you ready to straighten up and make the effort to--to be something
+creditable to yourself and to her?"
+
+"Oh, I've tried to hold down a good many respectable jobs," he scoffed.
+"It's no good trying. I'm too busy thinking of her to be able to devote
+much of my remarkable intelligence to ordinary work."
+
+"Well, you've never had me behind you till now," she said. "I am perfectly
+able to think for you, if you'll let me. Simmy Dodge is interested in you.
+He can get you a berth somewhere. It may be a humble one, but it will lead
+to something better. You are not a drunkard, you are not a loafer. Now, I
+will tell you what I intend to do. If, at the end of a year, you can show
+me that you--"
+
+"Hold on! You are not thinking of offering me money, are you?" he
+demanded, flushing angrily.
+
+Her eyes brightened. "You would not accept it?"
+
+"No," he said flatly.
+
+"You must remember one thing, George," she said, after a moment. "You
+cannot take Lutie back until you have paid mother in full for all that
+your freedom cost her. It wouldn't be fair to take both the girl and the
+money she received for giving you up that time. She was paid in full for
+returning you to the family circle. If she takes you back again, she
+should refund the money, even though she is accepting damaged and well-
+worn goods. Now, Lutie should not be called upon to make restitution. That
+is for you to do. I fancy it will be a long time before you can amass
+thirty or forty thousand dollars, so I make you this offer: the day you
+are _good_ enough for Lutie to marry all over again, I will pay to mother
+for you the full amount that Lutie would owe her in violating the
+contract. You will not receive a cent of it, you see. But you understand
+how rotten it would be for you and Lutie to--"
+
+"I see, I see," cried he, striking his knee with his clenched hand. "We
+couldn't do it, that's all. It's awfully good of you, Anne, to do this for
+me. I'll--I'll never forget it. And I'll pay you back somehow before we're
+through, see if I don't." He was already assuming that the task of winning
+back Lutie was joyously on the way to certain consummation.
+
+"I am a rich woman," said Anne, compressing her lips. "I sha'n't miss a
+few dollars, you know. To-morrow I am to go with Mr. Hollenback to the
+safety vaults. A fortune will be placed in my hands. The deal will be
+closed."
+
+"It's a lot of money," said George, shaking his head gloomily. It was as
+if he had said that it was money she shouldn't speak of with pride. "I
+say, Anne, do you know just how mother is fixed for money? Last winter she
+told me she might have to sell the house and--"
+
+"I know," said Anne shortly. "I intend to share the spoils with her, in a
+way, even though she can't share the shame with me. She brought us up,
+George, and she made us the noble creatures that we are. We owe her
+something for that, eh? Oh, I am not as bitter as I appear to be, so don't
+look shocked. Mother has her ideals, and she is honest about them. She is
+a wonderful woman, a wonderful mother. She did her best for us in every
+way possible. I don't blame her for what has happened to me. I blame
+myself. She is not half as mean as I am, George, and she isn't one-tenth
+as weak-kneed as you. She stood by both of us, and I for one shall stand
+by her. So don't you worry about mother, old boy. Worry about the honest
+job you are expected to get--and hold."
+
+Later on she said to him: "Some day I shall make it a point to see Lutie.
+I will shake hands with her. You see, George dear," she went on
+whimsically, "I don't in the least object to divorcees. They are not half
+as common as divorces. And as for your contention that if you and Lutie
+had a child to draw you together, I can only call your attention to the
+fact that there are fewer divorces among people who have no children than
+among those who have. The records--or at least the newspapers--prove that to
+be a fact. In nine-tenths of the divorce cases you read about, the custody
+of children is mentioned. That should prove something, eh? It ought to put
+at rest forever the claim that children bind mismated people together.
+They don't, and that is all there is about it."
+
+George grinned in his embarrassment. "Well, I'll be off now, Anne. I'll
+see Simmy this afternoon, as you suggest, and--" he hesitated, the worried
+look coming into his eyes once more--"Oh, I say, Anne, I can't help
+repeating what I said about your seeing Braden. Don't--"
+
+"Good-bye, George," she broke in abruptly, a queer smile on her lips.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+Braden Thorpe realised that he would have to pay, one way or another, for
+what had happened in the operating room. Either his honour or his skill
+would be attacked for the course his knife had taken.
+
+The day after his grandfather's death, he went to the office of Dr. Bates,
+the deposed family physician and adviser. He did not go in a cringing,
+apologetic spirit, but as one unafraid, as one who is justified within
+himself and fears not the report of evil. His heart was sore, for he knew
+he was to be misjudged. Those men who looked on while he worked so
+swiftly, so surely, so skilfully in that never-to-be-forgotten hour, were
+not to be deceived. He knew too well that he had performed with the most
+noteworthy skill, and, if he had any other feeling than that of grief for
+the death of one who had been dear to him, it was that of pride in the
+consciousness that he deserved the praise of these men for the manner in
+which he performed the most delicate of operations. He knew that they
+knew, quite as well as he, that but for the fatal swerving of half an inch
+of the instrument in his steady fingers, Templeton Thorpe would not only
+be alive at that moment but conceivably might be expected to survive for
+many days.
+
+They had seen everything and they understood. He did not seek to conceal
+the truth from himself. He had heard the sharply drawn breath that was
+taken through the parted lips of his tense observers as that admirably
+handled blade slid from its true course and spoiled what might have been
+heralded as a marvellous feat in surgery. It was as if something had
+snapped in the minds of these three men who watched. They had looked,
+however, upon all that was before him as he worked. They had seen, as he
+saw, the thing that no human skill could conquer. He felt their eyes upon
+him as he turned the knife quickly, suddenly, surely, and then they had
+looked into his eyes as he raised them for a second. He had spared his
+grandfather another month of agony, and they had seen everything. It was
+not unlikely that the patient might have survived the anæsthetic, and it
+was equally probable that subsequent care on the part of the doctor and
+the nurse might have kept him alive long enough to permit his case to be
+recorded by virtue of his having escaped alive from the operating table,
+as one of those exasperatingly smug things known to the profession as a
+"successful operation,"--sardonic prelude to an act of God!
+
+There seems to be no such thing as an unsuccessful operation. If God would
+only keep his finger out of the business, nothing could go wrong. It is
+always the act of God that keeps a man from enjoying the fruits of an
+absolutely successful operation. Up to the instant that Braden's knife
+took its sanguinary course, there was every indication that the operation
+would be successful, even though Mr. Thorpe were to breathe his last while
+the necessary stitches were being taken.
+
+He had slept soundly throughout the night just past. For the first night
+in a week his mind and body took the rest that had been denied them for so
+long. The thing was behind him. It was over. He had earned his right to
+sleep. When he laid his head upon the pillow there was no fear of evil
+dreams, no qualms, no troubled conscience to baffle the demands of
+exhaustion. He had done no wrong. His sleep was long, sweet, refreshing.
+He had no fear of God in his soul that night, for he had spoken with God
+in the silence of the long night before and he was at peace with Him. No
+man could say that he had not tried to save the life of Templeton Thorpe.
+He had worked with all the knowledge at his command; he himself felt that
+he had worked as one inspired,--so much so, in fact, that he now knew that
+never again in all his life would he be able to surpass or even equal the
+effort of that unforgettable day. But he had recognised the futility of
+skill even as it was being exerted to its utmost accomplishments. The
+inevitable was bared to his intelligence. He had done his best for
+Templeton Thorpe; no man could have done more than that. With the eyes of
+other men upon him, eyes that saw all that he saw, he took it upon himself
+to spare his grandfather the few days that might have been added to his
+hell by an act less kind,--though no doubt more eminently professional.
+
+And as he performed that final act of mercy, his mind and heart were on
+the handshake, and the word of farewell that his benefactor had murmured
+in his ear. Templeton Thorpe was at rest; he had thanked his grandson in
+advance.
+
+So it was that Braden slept the night through without a tremor. But with
+his waking came the sense of responsibility to others. Not to the world at
+large, not to the wife of the dead man, but to the three sincere and
+honourable members of his profession, who, no doubt, found themselves in a
+most trying position. They were, in a way, his judges, and as such they
+were compelled to accept their own testimony as evidence for or against
+him. With him it was a matter of principle, with them a question of
+ethics. As men they were in all probability applauding his act, but as
+doctors they were bound by the first and paramount teachings of their
+profession to convict him of an unspeakable wrong. It was his duty to
+grant these men the right to speak of what they had seen.
+
+He went first to see Dr. Bates, his oldest friend and counsellor, and the
+one man who could afterwards speak freely with the widow of the man who
+had been his lifelong patient. Going down in the elevator from his room at
+the hotel, Braden happened to glance at himself in the narrow mirror. He
+was startled into a second sharp, investigating look. Strange that he had
+not observed while shaving how thin his face had become. His cheeks seemed
+to have flattened out leanly over night; his heavy eyes looked out from
+shadowy recesses that he had failed to take account of before; there were
+deeper lines at the corners of his mouth, as if newly strengthened by some
+artful sculptor while he slept. He was older by years for that unguarded
+sleep. Time had taken him unawares; it had slyly seized the opportunity to
+remould his features while youth was weak from exhaustion. In a vague way
+he recalled a certain mysterious change in Anne Tresslyn's face. It was
+not age that had wrought the change in her, nor could it be age that had
+done the same for him.
+
+The solution came to him suddenly, as he stepped out into the open air and
+saw the faces of other men. It was strength, not weakness, that had put
+its stamp upon his countenance, and upon Anne's; the strength that
+survives the constructive years, the years of development. He saw this
+set, firm strength in the faces of other men for the first time. They too
+no doubt had awakened abruptly from the dream of ambition to find
+themselves dominated by a purpose. That purpose was in their faces.
+Ambition was back of that purpose perhaps, deep in the soul of the man,
+but purpose had become the necessity.
+
+Every man comes to that strange spot in the dash through life where he
+stops to divest himself of an ideal. He lays it down beside the road and,
+without noticing, picks up a resolve in its place and strides onward,
+scarcely conscious of the substitution. It requires strength to carry a
+resolve. An ideal carries itself and is no burden. So each of these men in
+the street,--truckman, motorman, merchant, clerk, what you will,--sets forth
+each day with the same old resolution at his heels; and in their set faces
+is the strength that comes with the transition from wonder to earnestness.
+Its mark was stamped upon the countenances of young and old alike. Even
+the beggar at the street corner below was without his ideal. Even he had a
+definite, determined purpose.
+
+Then there was that subtle change in Anne. He thought of it now, most
+unwillingly. He did not want to think of her. He was certain that he had
+put her out of his thoughts. Now he realised that she had merely lain
+dormant in his mind while it was filled with the intensities of the past
+few days. She had not been crowded out, after all. The sharp recollection
+of the impression he had had on seeing her immediately after his arrival
+was proof that she was still to be reckoned with in his thoughts.
+
+The strange, elusive maturity that had come into her young, smooth
+face,--that was it. Maturity without the passing of Youth; definiteness,
+understanding, discovery,--a grip on the realities of life, just as it was
+with him and all the others who were awake. A year in the life of a young
+thing like Anne could not have created the difference that he felt rather
+than saw.
+
+Something more significant than the dimensions of a twelve-month had added
+its measure to Anne's outlook upon life. She had turned a corner in the
+lane and was facing the vast plain she would have to cross unguided. She
+had come to the place where she must think and act for herself,--and to
+that place all men and all women come abruptly, one time or another, to
+become units in the multitude.
+
+We do not know when we pass that inevitable spot, nor have we the power to
+work backward and decide upon the exact moment when adolescence gave way
+to manhood. It comes and passes without our knowledge, and we are given a
+new vision in the twinkling of an eye, in a single beat of the heart. No
+man knows just when he becomes a man in his own reckoning. It is not a
+matter of years, nor growth, nor maturity of body and mind, but an
+awakening which goes unrecorded on the mind's scroll. Some men do not note
+the change until they are fifty, others when they are fifteen.
+Circumstance does the trick.
+
+He was still thinking of Anne as he hurried up the front door-steps and
+rang Dr. Bates' bell. She was not the same Anne that he had known and
+loved, far back in the days when he was young. Could it be possible that
+it was only a year ago? Was Anne so close to the present as all that, and
+yet so indefinably remote when it came to analysing this new look in her
+eyes? Was it only a year ago that she was so young and so unfound?
+
+A sudden sickness assailed him as he waited for the maid to open the door.
+Anne had been made a widow. He, not God, was responsible for this new
+phase in her life. Had he not put a dreadful charge upon her conscience?
+Had he not forced her to share the responsibility with him? And, while the
+rest of the world might forever remain in ignorance, would it ever be
+possible for her to hide the truth from herself?
+
+She knew what it all meant, and she had offered to share the consequences
+with him, no matter what course his judgment led him to pursue. He had not
+considered her until this instant as a partner in the undertaking, but now
+he realised that she must certainly be looking upon herself as such. His
+heart sank. He had made a hideous mistake. He should not have gone to her.
+She could not justify herself by the same means that were open to him.
+
+From her point of view, he had killed her husband, and with her consent!
+
+He found himself treating the dead man in a curiously detached fashion,
+and not as his own blood-relation. Her husband, that was the long and the
+short of his swift reflections, not his grandfather. All her life she
+would remember that she had supported him in an undertaking that had to do
+with the certain death of her husband, and no matter how merciful, how
+sensible that act may have been, or how earnestly he may have tried to see
+his way clear to follow a course opposed to the one he had taken, the fact
+remained that she had acknowledged herself prepared for just what
+subsequently happened in the operating room.
+
+Going back to the beginning, Templeton Thorpe's death was in her mind the
+day she married him. It had never been a question with her as to how he
+should die, but _when_. But this way to the desired end could never have
+been included in her calculations. _This_ was not the way out.
+
+She had been forced to take a stand with him in this unhappy business, and
+she would have to pay a cost that he could not share with her, for his
+conscience was clear. What were her thoughts to-day? With what ugly crime
+was she charging herself? Was she, in the secrecy of her soul, convicting
+herself of murder? Was _that_ what he had given her to think about all the
+rest of her life?
+
+The servant was slow in answering the bell. They always are at the homes
+of doctors.
+
+"Is Dr. Bates at home?"
+
+"Office hours from eight to nine, and four to six."
+
+"Say that Dr. Thorpe wishes to see him."
+
+This seemed to make a difference. "He is out, Dr. Thorpe. We expect him in
+any moment though. For lunch. Will you please to come in and wait?"
+
+"Thank you."
+
+She felt called upon to deliver a bit of information. "He went down to see
+Mrs. Thorpe, sir,--your poor grandmother."
+
+"I see," said Braden dully. It did not occur to him that enlightenment was
+necessary. A queer little chill ran through his veins. Was Dr. Bates down
+there now, telling Anne all that he knew, and was she, in the misery of
+remorse, making him her confessor? In the light of these disturbing
+thoughts, he was fast becoming blind to the real object of this, the first
+of the three visits he was to make.
+
+Dr. Bates found him staring gloomily from the window when he came into the
+office half an hour later, and at once put the wrong though obvious
+construction upon his mood.
+
+"Come, come, my boy," he said as they shook hands; "put it out of your
+mind. Don't let the thing weigh like this. You knew what you were about
+yesterday, so don't look back upon what happened with--"
+
+Braden interrupted him, irrelevantly. "You've been down to see Mrs.
+Thorpe. How is she? How does she appear to be taking it?" He spoke
+rapidly, nervously.
+
+"As well as could be expected," replied the older man drily. "She is glad
+that it's all over. So are we all, for that matter."
+
+"Did she send for you?"
+
+"Yes," said Dr. Bates, after an instant's hesitation. "I'll be frank with
+you, Braden. She wanted to know just what happened."
+
+"And you told her?"
+
+"I told her that you did everything that a man could do," said the other,
+choosing his words with care.
+
+"In other words, you did not tell her what happened."
+
+"I did not, my boy. There is no reason why she should know. It is better
+that she should never know," said Dr. Bates gravely.
+
+"What did she say?" asked Braden sharply.
+
+Dr. Bates suddenly was struck by the pallor in the drawn face. "See here,
+Braden, you must get a little rest. Take my advice and--"
+
+"Tell me what she had to say," insisted the young man.
+
+"She cried a little when I told her that you had done your best, and
+that's about all."
+
+"Didn't she confess that she expected--that she feared I might have--"
+
+"Confess? Why do you use that word?" demanded Dr. Bates, as the young man
+failed to complete his sentence. His gaze was now fixed intently on
+Braden's face. A suspicion was growing in his mind.
+
+"I am terribly distressed about something, Dr. Bates," said Braden,
+uneasily. "I wish you would tell me everything that Anne had to say to
+you."
+
+"Well, for one thing, she said that she knew you would do everything in
+your power to bring about a successful result. She seemed vastly relieved
+when I told her that you had done all that mortal man could do. I don't
+believe she has the faintest idea that--that an accident occurred. Now that
+I think of it, she did stop me when I undertook to convince her that your
+bark is worse than your bite, young man,--in other words, that your
+theories are for conversational and not practical purposes. Yes, she cut
+me off rather sharply. I hadn't attached any importance to her--See here,
+Braden," he demanded suddenly, "is there any reason why she should have
+cut me off like that? Had she cause to feel that you might have put into
+practice your--your--Come, come, you know what I mean." He was leaning
+forward in his chair, his hands gripping the arm-rests.
+
+"She is more or less in sympathy with my views," said Braden warily. "Of
+course, you could not expect her to be in sympathy with them in this case,
+however." He put it out as a feeler.
+
+"Well, I should say not!" exclaimed Dr. Bates. "It's conceivable that she
+may have been in some doubt, however, until I reassured her. By George, I
+am just beginning to see through her, Braden. She had me down there to--to
+set her mind at rest about--about _you_. 'Pon my soul, she did it neatly,
+too."
+
+"And she believes--you think she believes that her mind is at rest?"
+
+"That's an odd question. What do you mean?"
+
+"Just that. Does she believe that you told her the truth?"
+
+"Oh! I see. Well, a doctor has to tell a good many lies in the course of a
+year. He gets so that he can tell them with a straighter face than when
+he's telling the truth. I don't see why Mrs. Thorpe should doubt my
+word--my professional word--unless there is some very strong reason for
+doing so." He continued to eye Braden keenly. "Do you know of any reason?"
+
+Thorpe by this time was able to collect himself. The primal instinct to
+unburden himself to this old, understanding friend, embraced sturdy,
+outspoken argument in defence of his act, but this defence did not
+contemplate the possible inclusion of Anne. He was now satisfied that she
+had not delivered herself into the confidence of Dr. Bates. She had kept
+her secret close. It was not for him to make revelations. The newly
+aroused fear that even this good old friend might attach an unholy design
+to their motives impelled him to resort to equivocation, if not to actual
+falsehood. This was a side to the matter that had not been considered by
+him till now. But he was now acutely aware of an ugly conviction that she
+had thought of it afterwards, just as he was thinking of it now, hence her
+failure to repeat to Dr. Bates the substance of their discussion before
+the operation took place.
+
+He experienced an unaccountable, disquieting sensation of guilt, of
+complicity in an evil deed, of a certain slyness that urged him to hide
+something from this shrewd old man. To his utter amazement, he was saying
+to himself that he must not "squeal" on Anne, his partner! He now knew
+that he could never speak of what had passed between himself and Anne. Of
+his own part in the affair he could speak frankly with this man, and with
+all men, and be assured that no sinister motive would be attributed to
+him. He would be free from the slightest trace of suspicion so long as he
+stood alone in accounts of the happenings of the day before. No matter how
+violent the criticism or how bitter the excoriation, he would at least be
+credited with honest intentions. But the mere mention of Anne's name would
+be the signal for a cry from the housetops, and all the world would hear.
+And Anne's name would sound the death knell of "honest intentions."
+
+"As I said a moment ago, Dr. Bates, Mrs. Thorpe is fully aware of my
+rather revolutionary views," he said, not answering the question with
+directness. "That was enough to cause some uneasiness on my part."
+
+"Um! I dare say," said Dr. Bates thoughtfully. Back in his mind was the
+recollection of a broken engagement, or something of the sort. "I see.
+Naturally. I think, on the whole, my boy, she believes that I told her the
+truth. You needn't be uneasy on that score. I--I--for a moment I had an idea
+that you might have _said_ something to her." It was almost a question.
+
+Braden shook his head. His eyes did not flicker as he answered steadily:
+"Surely you cannot think that I would have so much as mentioned my views
+in discussing--"
+
+"Certainly not, my boy," cried the other heartily. Braden did not fail to
+note the look of relief in his eye, however. "So now you are all right as
+far as Mrs. Thorpe is concerned. I made a point of assuring her that
+everything went off satisfactorily to the three of us. She need never know
+the truth. You needn't feel that you cannot look her in the eyes, Braden."
+
+"'Gad, that sounds sinister," exclaimed Thorpe, staring. "That's what they
+say when they are talking about thieves and liars, Dr. Bates."
+
+"I beg your pardon. I meant well, my boy, although perhaps it wasn't the
+nice thing to say. And now have you come to tell me that it was an
+accident, an unfortunate--"
+
+"No," said Braden, straightening up. "I come to you first, Dr. Bates,
+because you are my oldest friend and supporter, and because you were the
+lifelong friend of my grandfather. I am going also to Dr. Bray and Dr.
+Ernest after I leave here. I do not want any one of you to feel that I
+expect you to shield me in this matter. You are at liberty to tell all
+that you know. I did what I thought was best, what my conscience ordered
+me to do, and I did it openly in the presence of three witnesses. There
+was no accident. No one may say that I bungled. No one--"
+
+"I should say you didn't bungle," said the older man. "I never witnessed a
+finer--ahem! In fact, we all agree on that. My boy, you have a great future
+before you. You are one of the most skilful--"
+
+"Thanks. I didn't come to hear words of praise, Dr. Bates. I came to
+release you from any obligation that you may--"
+
+"Tut, tut! That's all right. We understand--perfectly. All three of us. I
+have talked it over with Bray and Ernest. What happened up there yesterday
+is as a closed book. We shall never open it. I will not go so far as to
+say that we support your theories, but we do applaud your method. There
+isn't one of us who would not have _felt_ like doing the thing you did,
+but on the other hand there isn't one of us who could have done it. We
+would have allowed him a few more days of life. Now that it is all over, I
+will not say that you did wrong. I can only say that it was not right to
+do the thing you did. However, it is your conscience and not mine that
+carries the load,--if there is one. You may rest assured that not one of us
+will ever voluntarily describe what actually took place."
+
+"But I do not want to feel that you regard it your duty to protect me from
+the consequences of a deliberate--"
+
+"See here, my lad, do you want the world to know that you took your
+grandfather's life? That's what it amounts to, you know. You can't go
+behind the facts."
+
+Thorpe lowered his head. "It would be ridiculous for me to say that I do
+not care whether the world knows the truth about it, Dr. Bates. To be
+quite honest, sir, I do not want the world to know. You will understand
+why, in this particular instance, I should dread publicity. Mr. Thorpe was
+my grandfather. He was my benefactor. But that isn't the point. I had no
+legal right to do the thing I did. I took it upon myself to take a step
+that is not now countenanced by the law or by our profession. I did this
+in the presence of witnesses. What I want to make clear to you and to the
+other doctors is that I should have acted differently if my patient had
+been any one else in the world. I loved my grandfather. He was my only
+friend. He expected me to do him a great service yesterday. I could not
+fail him, sir. When I saw that there was nothing before him but a few
+awful days of agony, I did what he would have blessed me for doing had he
+been conscious. If my patient had been any one else I should have adhered
+strictly to the teachings of my profession. I would not have broken the
+law."
+
+"Your grandfather knew when he went up to the operating room that he was
+not to leave it alive. Is that the case?"
+
+"He did not expect to leave it alive, sir," amended Braden steadily.
+
+"You had talked it all over with him?"
+
+"I had agreed to perform the operation, that is all, sir. He knew that his
+case was hopeless. That is why he insisted on having the operation
+performed."
+
+"In other words, he deliberately put you in your present position? He set
+his mind on forcing this thing upon you? Then all I have to say for
+Templeton Thorpe is that he was a damned--But there, he's dead and gone
+and, thank God, he can't hear me. You must understand, Braden, that this
+statement of yours throws an entirely new light upon the case," said Dr.
+Bates gravely. "The fact that it was actually expected of you makes your
+act a--er--shall we say less inspirational? I do not believe it wise for you
+to make this statement to my colleagues. You are quite safe in telling me,
+for I understand the situation perfectly. But if you tell them that there
+was an agreement--even a provisional agreement--I--well, the thing will not
+look the same to them."
+
+"You are right, Dr. Bates," said Braden, after a moment. "Thank you for
+the advice. I see what you mean. I shall not tell them all that I have
+told you. Still, I am determined to see them and--"
+
+"Quite so. It is right that you should. Give them cause to respect you, my
+boy. They saw everything. They are sound, just men. From what they have
+said to me, you may rest assured that they do not condemn you any more
+than I do. The anæsthetician saw nothing. He was occupied. That young
+fellow--what's his name?--may have been more capable of observing than we'd
+suspect in one so tender, but I fancy he wouldn't know _everything_. I
+happen to know that he saw the knife slip. He mentioned it to Simeon
+Dodge."
+
+"To Simmy Dodge!"
+
+"Yes. Dodge came to see me last night. He told me that the boy made some
+queer statement to him about the pylorus, and he seemed to be troubled. I
+set him straight in the matter. He doesn't know any more about the pylorus
+than he knew before, but he does know that no surgeon on earth could have
+avoided the accident that befell you in the crisis. Simmy, good soul, was
+for going out at once and buying off the interne, but I stopped him. We
+will take care of the young man. He doesn't say it was intentional, and we
+will convince him that it wasn't. How do you stand with young George
+Tresslyn?"
+
+"I don't know. He used to like me. I haven't seen--"
+
+"It appears that Simmy first inquired of George if he knew anything about
+the pylorus. He is Mrs. Thorpe's brother. I should be sorry if he got it
+into his head that--well, that there was anything wrong, anything that
+might take him to her with ugly questions."
+
+"I shall have to chance that, Dr. Bates," said Braden grimly.
+
+"Mrs. Thorpe must never know, Braden," said the other, gripping his hands
+behind his back.
+
+"If it gets out, she can't help knowing. She may suspect even now--"
+
+"But it is not to get out. There may be rumours starting from this
+interne's remark and supported by your avowed doctrines, but we must
+combine to suppress them. The newspapers cannot print a line without our
+authority, and they'll never get it. They will not dare to print a rumour
+that cannot be substantiated. I spoke of George a moment ago for a very
+good reason. I am afraid of him. He has been going down hill pretty fast
+of late. It wouldn't surprise me to hear that he had sunk low enough to
+attempt blackmail."
+
+"Good heaven! Why--why, he's not that sort--"
+
+"Don't be too sure of him. He is almost in the gutter, they say. He's
+_that_ sort, at any rate."
+
+"I don't believe George ever did a crooked thing in his life, poor devil.
+He wouldn't dream of coming to me with a demand for--"
+
+"He wouldn't come to you," said the other, sententiously. "He would not
+have the courage to do that. But he might go to Anne. Do you see what I
+mean?"
+
+Braden shook his head. He recalled George's experiences in the sick-room
+and the opportunity that had been laid before him. "I see what you mean,
+but George--well, he's not as bad as you think, Dr. Bates."
+
+"We'll see," said the older man briefly. "I hope he's the man you seem to
+think he is. I am afraid of him."
+
+"He loves his sister, Dr. Bates."
+
+"In that case he may not attempt to blackmail her, but it would not
+prevent his going to her with his story. The fact that he does love her
+may prove to be your greatest misfortune."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"As I said before, Anne must never know," said Dr. Bates, laying his hand
+on the young man's shoulder and gripping it suddenly. "Your grandfather
+talked quite freely with me toward the end. No; Anne must never know."
+
+Braden stared at the floor in utter perplexity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+Wade went through the unnecessary form of "giving notice" a day or two
+after his old master was laid to rest. On the day that Templeton Thorpe
+went to the hospital he abandoned an almost lifelong habit of cocking his
+head in an attitude of listening, and went about the house with the
+corners of his mouth drooping instead of maintaining their everlasting
+twist upward in the set smile of humility.
+
+He had been there for thirty years and more, and now he was no longer
+needed. He would have to get out. He had saved a little money,--not much,
+but enough to start a small business of some sort,--and he was complaining
+bitterly to himself of the fate that deprived him of Mr. Thorpe's advice
+just when it was imperative that he should know what enterprise would be
+the safest for him to undertake. It nettled him to think that he had
+failed to take advantage of his opportunities while this shrewd, capable
+old man was alive and in a position to set him on the right path to
+prosperity. He should have had the sense to look forward to this very day.
+
+For thirty years he had gone on believing that he knew so much more than
+Mr. Thorpe that Mr. Thorpe couldn't possibly get along without him, and
+now he was brought up sharply against the discovery that he couldn't get
+along without Mr. Thorpe. For thirty years he had done only the things
+that Mr. Thorpe wanted him to do, instructed him to do, or even drove him
+to do. Suddenly he found himself with absolutely nothing to do, or at any
+rate with no one to tell him what to do, and instead of a free and
+independent agent, with no one to order him about, he wasn't anything,--he
+wasn't anything at all. This was not what he had been looking forward to
+with such complacency and confidence. He was like a lost soul. No one to
+tell him what to do! No one to valet! No one to call him a blundering
+idiot! No one to despise except himself! And he had waited thirty years
+for the day to come when he could be his own man, with the power to tell
+every one to go to the devil--and to do so himself if he saw fit. He hardly
+recognised himself when he looked in the mirror. Was that scared, bleak,
+wobegone face a reflection? Was he really like that?
+
+He was filled with a bitter rage against Mr. Thorpe. How he hated him for
+dying like this and leaving him with nothing to do after all these years
+of faithful service. And how shocked he was, and frightened, to discover
+himself wanting to pause outside his master's door with his head cocked to
+hear the voice that would never shout out to him again.
+
+He knew to a penny just how much he had in the Savings Banks about town,--a
+trifle over twelve thousand dollars, the hoardings of thirty years. He had
+gone on being a valet all these years without a single thought of being
+anything else, and yet he had always looked forward to the day when he
+could go into some nice, genteel little business for himself,--when he
+could step out of service and enjoy life to the full. But how was he to go
+about stepping out of service and into a nice, genteel little business
+without Mr. Thorpe to tell him what to do? Here was he, sixty-five years
+old, without a purpose in life. Beginning life at sixty-five!
+
+Of course, young Mrs. Thorpe would have no use for a valet. No doubt she
+would marry again,--Wade had his notions!--but he couldn't think of
+subjecting himself to the incompetency of a new master, even though his
+old place were held open for him. He would not be able to adjust himself
+to another master,--or to put it in his own words, it would be impossible
+to adjust another master to himself. Young Master Braden might give him
+something to do for the sake of old times, but then again Mrs. Thorpe
+would have to be taken into consideration. Wade hadn't the slightest doubt
+that she would one day "marry into the family again." As a matter of fact,
+he believed in his soul that there was an understanding between the young
+people. There were moments when he squinted his eyes and cringed a little.
+He would have given a great deal to be able to put certain thoughts out of
+his mind.
+
+And then there was another reason for not wanting to enter the service of
+Dr. Braden Thorpe. Suppose he were to become critically ill. Would he, in
+that event, feel at liberty to call in an outside doctor to take charge of
+his case? Would it not be natural for Dr. Braden to attend him? And
+suppose that Dr. Braden were to conclude that he couldn't get well!
+
+He gave notice to Murray, the butler. He hated to do this, for he despised
+Murray. The butler would not have to go. He too had been with Mr. Thorpe
+for more than a quarter of a century, and death had not robbed him of a
+situation. What manner of justice was it that permitted Murray to go on
+being useful while he had to go out into the world and become a burden to
+himself?
+
+"Murray informs me, Wade, that you have given notice," said Anne, looking
+up as he shuffled into an attitude before her. "He says that you have
+saved quite a lot of money and are therefore independent. I am happy to
+hear that you are in a position to spend the remainder of your life in
+ease and--why, what is the matter, Wade?"
+
+He was very pale, and swayed slightly. "If you please, madam, Murray is
+mistaken," he mumbled. An idea was forming in his unhappy brain. "I--I am
+leaving because I realise that you no longer have any use for my services,
+and not because I am--er--well off, as the saying is. I shall try to get
+another place." His mind was clear now. The idea was completely formed.
+"Of course, it will be no easy matter to find a place at my age,
+but,--well, a man must live, you know." He straightened up a bit, as if a
+weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
+
+She was puzzled. "But you have money, Wade. You have worked hard. You have
+earned a good rest. Why should you go on slaving for other people?"
+
+"Alas," said Wade, resuming the patient smile that had been missing for
+days and cocking his head a little, "it is not for me to rest. Murray does
+not know everything. My savings are small. He does not know the uses to
+which I have been obliged to--I beg pardon, madam, you cannot, of course,
+be interested in my poor affairs." He was very humble.
+
+"But Mr. Thorpe always spoke of you as an exceedingly thrifty man. I am
+sure that he believed you to be comfortably fixed for life, Wade."
+
+"Quite so," agreed Wade. "And I should have been had it been possible to
+lay by with all these unmentioned obligations crowding upon me, year in,
+year out."
+
+"Your family? I did not know that there was any one dependent upon you."
+
+"I have never spoken of my affairs, ma'am," said Wade. "It is not for a
+servant to trouble his employer with--ahem! You understand, I am sure."
+
+"Perfectly. I am sorry."
+
+"So I thought I would give notice at once, madam, so that I might be on
+the lookout as soon as possible for a new place. You see, I shall soon be
+too old to apply for a place, whilst if I manage to secure one in time I
+may be allowed to stay on in spite of my age."
+
+"Have you anything in view?"
+
+"Nothing, madam. I am quite at a loss where to--"
+
+"Take all the time you like, Wade," she said, genuinely sorry for the man.
+She never had liked him. He was the one man in all the world who might
+have pitied her for the mistake she had made, and he had steeled his heart
+against her. She knew that he felt nothing but scorn for her, and yet she
+was sorry for him. This was new proof to her that she had misjudged her
+own heart. It was a softer thing than she had supposed. "Stay on here
+until you find something satisfactory. Mr. Thorpe would have wished you to
+stay. You were a very faithful friend to him, Wade. He set great store by
+you."
+
+"Thank you, madam. You are very kind. Of course, I shall strive to make
+myself useful while I remain. I dare say Murray can find something for me
+to do. Temporarily, at least, I might undertake the duties of the furnace
+man and handy-man about the house. He is leaving to-morrow, I hear. If you
+will be so good as to tell Murray that I am to take O'Toole's
+place,--temporarily, of course,--I shall be very grateful. It will give me
+time to collect my thoughts, ma'am."
+
+"It will not be necessary, Wade, for you to take on O'Toole's work. I am
+not asking you to perform hard, manual labor. You must not feel that my--"
+
+"Pardon me, madam," interrupted he; "I very much prefer to do some sort of
+regular work, if I may be permitted."
+
+She smiled. "You will find Murray a hard task-master, I am afraid."
+
+He took a long breath, as of relief--or could it have been pleasure? "I
+quite understand that, madam. He is a martinet. Still, I shall not mind."
+The same thought was in the mind of each: he was accustomed to serving a
+hard task-master. "If you don't mind, I shall take O'Toole's place until
+you find some one else. To-morrow I shall move my belongings from the room
+upstairs to O'Toole's room off the furnace-room. Thank--"
+
+"No!" she exclaimed. "You are not to do that. Keep your old room, Wade.
+I--I cannot allow you to go down there. Mr. Thorpe would never forgive me
+if he knew that--" He lifted his eyes at the sudden pause and saw that she
+was very white. Was she too afraid of ghosts?
+
+"It's very good of you," he said after a moment. "I shall do as you wish
+in everything, and I shall let you know the instant I find another place."
+He cleared his throat. "I fear, madam, that in the confusion of the past
+few days I have failed to express to you my sympathy. I assure you the
+oversight was not--"
+
+She was looking straight into his eyes. "Thank you, Wade," she interrupted
+coldly. "Your own grief would be sufficient excuse, if any were necessary.
+If you will send Murray to me I will tell him that you have withdrawn your
+notice and will stay on in O'Toole's place. It will not be necessary for
+him to engage another furnace-man at present."
+
+"No, ma'am," said Wade, and then added without a trace of irony in his
+voice: "At any rate not until cold weather sets in."
+
+And so it was that this man solved the greatest problem that had ever
+confronted him. He went down into the cellars to take orders from the man
+he hated, from the man who would snarl at him and curse him and humiliate
+him to the bitter end, and all because he knew that he could not begin
+life over again. He wanted to be ordered about, he wanted to be snarled at
+by an overbearing task-master. It simplified everything. He would never be
+called upon to think for himself. Thorpe or Murray, what mattered which of
+them was in command? It was all the same to him. His dignity passed, away
+with the passing of his career as a "Man," and he rejoiced in the belief
+that he had successfully evaded the responsibilities that threatened him
+up to the moment he entered the presence of the mistress of the house. He
+was no longer without a purpose in life. He would not have to go out and
+be independent.
+
+Toward the end of the second week Templeton Thorpe's will was read by
+Judge Hollenback in the presence of "the family." There had been some
+delay on account of Braden Thorpe's absence from the city. No one knew
+where he had gone, nor was he ever to explain his sudden departure
+immediately after the funeral. He simply disappeared from his hotel,
+without so much as a bag or a change of linen in his possession, so far as
+one could know. At the end of ten days he returned as suddenly and as
+casually as he had gone away, but very much improved in appearance. The
+strange pallor had left his cheeks and his eyes had lost the heavy, tired
+expression.
+
+At first he flatly refused to go down for the reading of the will. He was
+not a beneficiary under the new instrument and he could see no reason for
+his attendance. Anne alone understood. The old vow not to enter the house
+while she was its mistress,--that was the reason. He was now in a position
+to revive that vow and to order his actions accordingly.
+
+She drooped a little at the thought of it. From time to time she caught
+herself wishing that she could devise some means of punishing him, only to
+berate herself afterward for the selfishness that inspired the thought.
+
+Still, why shouldn't he come there now? She was the same now that she was
+before her marriage took place,--a year older, that was all, but no less
+desirable. That was the one thing she could not understand in him. She
+could understand his disgust, his scorn, his rage, but she could not see
+how it was possible for him to hold out against the qualities that had
+made him love her so deeply before she gave him cause to hate her.
+
+As for the operation that had resulted in the death of her husband, Anne
+had but one way of looking at it. Braden had been forced to operate
+against his will, against his best judgment. He was to be pitied. His
+grandfather had failed in his attempt to corrupt the souls of others in
+his desire for peace, and there remained but the one cowardly alternative:
+the appeal to this man who loved him. In his extremity, he had put upon
+Braden the task of performing a miracle, knowing full well that its
+accomplishment was impossible, that failure was as inevitable as death
+itself.
+
+The thought never entered her mind that in persuading Braden to perform
+this strange act of mercy her husband may have been moved by the sole
+desire to put the final touch to the barrier he had wrought between them.
+The fact that Braden was responsible for his death had no sinister meaning
+for her. It was the same as if he had operated upon a total stranger with
+a like result and with perhaps identical motives.
+
+She kept on saying to herself that she had given up hope of ever regaining
+the love she had lost. She tried to remember just when she had ceased to
+hope. Was it before or after that last conversation took place in the
+library? Hope may have died, but he was alive and she was alive. Then how
+could love be dead?
+
+It was Simmy Dodge who prevailed upon Braden to be present at the reading
+of the will. Simmy was the sort of man who goes about, in the goodness of
+his heart, adjusting matters for other people. He constituted himself in
+this instance, however, as the legal adviser of his old friend and
+companion, and that gave him a certain amount of authority.
+
+"And what's more," he said in arguing with the obdurate Braden, "we'll
+probably have to smash the will, if, as you say, you have been cut off
+without a nickel. You--"
+
+"But I don't want to smash it," protested Braden.
+
+"And why not?" demanded Simmy, in surprise. "You are his only blood
+relation, aren't you? Why the deuce should he leave everything away from
+you? Of course we'll make a fight for it. I've never heard of a more
+outrageous piece of--"
+
+"You don't understand, Simmy," Braden interrupted, suddenly realising that
+his position would be a difficult one to explain, even to this good and
+loyal friend. "We'll drop the matter for the present, at any rate."
+
+"But why should Mr. Thorpe have done this rotten, inconceivable thing to
+you, Brady?" demanded Dodge. "Good Lord, that will won't stand a minute in
+a court of--"
+
+"It will stand so far as I'm concerned," said Braden sharply, and Simmy
+blinked his eyes in bewilderment.
+
+"You wouldn't be fighting Anne, you know," he ventured after a moment,
+assuming that Braden's attitude was due to reluctance in that direction.
+"She is provided for outside the will, she tells me."
+
+"Are you her attorney, Simmy?"
+
+"Yes. That is, the firm represents her, and I'm one of the firm."
+
+"I don't see how you can represent both of us, old chap."
+
+"That's just what I'm trying to get into your head. I couldn't represent
+you if there was to be a fight with Anne. But we can fight these idiotic
+charities, can't we?"
+
+"No," said Braden flatly. "My grandfather's will is to stand just as it
+is, Simmy. I shall not contest for a cent. And so, if you please, there's
+no reason for my going down there to listen to the reading of the thing. I
+know pretty well what the document says. I was in Mr. Thorpe's confidence.
+For your own edification, Simmy, I'll merely say that I have already had
+my share of the estate, and I'm satisfied."
+
+"Still, in common decency, you ought to go down and listen to the reading
+of the will. Judge Hollenback says he will put the thing off until you are
+present, so you might as well go first as last. Be reasonable, Brady. I
+know how you feel toward Anne. I can appreciate your unwillingness to go
+to her house after what happened a year ago. Judge Hollenback declares
+that his letter of instruction from Mr. Thorpe makes it obligatory for him
+to read the document in the presence of his widow and his grandson, and in
+the library of his late home. Otherwise, the thing could have been done in
+Hollenback's offices."
+
+In the end Braden agreed to be present.
+
+When Judge Hollenback smoothed out the far from voluminous looking
+document, readjusted his nose glasses and cleared his throat preparatory
+to reading, the following persons were seated in the big, fire-lit
+library: Anne Thorpe, the widow; Braden Thorpe, the grandson; Mrs.
+Tresslyn, George Tresslyn, Simmy Dodge, Murray, and Wade, the furnace-man.
+The two Tresslyns were there by Anne's request. Late in the day she was
+overcome by the thought of sitting there alone while Braden was being
+dispossessed of all that rightfully belonged to him. She had not intended
+to ask her mother to come down for the reading. Somehow she had felt that
+Mrs. Tresslyn's presence would indicate the consummation of a project that
+had something ignoble about it. She knew that her mother could experience
+no other sensation than that of curiosity in listening to the will. Her
+interest in the affairs of Templeton Thorpe ended with the signing of the
+ante-nuptial contract, supplemented of course by the event which
+satisfactorily terminated the agreement inside of a twelve-month. But
+Anne, practically alone in the world as she now found herself to be, was
+suddenly aware of a great sense of depression. She wanted her mother. She
+wanted some one near who would not look at her with scornful, bitter eyes.
+
+George's presence is to be quickly explained. He had spent the better part
+of the week with Anne, sleeping in the house at her behest. For a week she
+had braved it out alone. Then came the sudden surrender to dread, terror,
+loneliness. The shadows in the halls were grim; the sounds in the night
+were sinister, the stillness that followed them creepy; the servants were
+things that stalked her, and she was afraid--mortally afraid in this home
+that was not hers. She had made up her mind to go away for a long time
+just as soon as everything was settled.
+
+As for the furnace-man, Judge Hollenback had summoned him on his arrival
+at the house. So readily had Wade adapted himself to his new duties that
+he now felt extremely uncomfortable and ill-at-ease in a room that had
+been like home to him for thirty years. He seemed to feel that this was no
+place for the furnace-man, notwithstanding the scouring and polishing
+process that temporarily had restored him to a more exalted office,--for
+once more he was the smug, impeccable valet.
+
+Braden was the last to arrive. He timed his arrival so that there could be
+no possibility of an informal encounter with Anne. She came forward and
+shook hands with him, simply, unaffectedly.
+
+"You have been away," she said, looking straight into his eyes. He was
+conscious of a feeling of relief. He had been living in some dread of what
+he might detect in her eyes. But it was a serene, frank expression that he
+found in them, not a question.
+
+"Yes," he said. "I was tired," he added after a moment.
+
+She hesitated. Then: "I have not seen you, Braden, since--since the twenty-
+first. You have not given me the opportunity to tell you that I know you
+did all that any one could possibly do for Mr. Thorpe. Thank you for
+undertaking the impossible. I am sorry--oh, so sorry,--that you were made to
+suffer. I want you to remember too that it was with my sanction that you
+made the hopeless effort."
+
+He turned cold. The others had heard every word. She had spoken without
+reserve, without the slightest indication of nervousness or compunction.
+The very thing that he feared had come to pass. She had put herself
+definitely on record. He glanced quickly about, searching the faces of the
+other occupants of the room. His gaze fell upon Wade, and rested for a
+second or two. Something told him that Wade's gaze would shift,--and it
+did.
+
+"I did everything, Anne. Thank you for believing in me." That was all. No
+word of sympathy, no mawkish mumbling of regret, no allusion to his own
+loss. He looked again into her eyes, this time in quest of the motive that
+urged her to make this unnecessary declaration. Was there a deeper
+significance to be attached to her readiness to assume responsibility? He
+looked for the light in her eye that would convince him that she was
+taking this stand because of the love she felt for him. He was
+immeasurably relieved to find no secret message there. She had not stooped
+to that, and he was gratified. Her eyes were clouded with concern for him,
+that was all. He was ashamed of himself for the thought,--and afterwards he
+wondered why he should have been ashamed. After all, it was only right
+that she should be sorry for him. He deserved that much from her.
+
+An awkward silence ensued. Simmy Dodge coughed nervously, and then Braden
+advanced to greet Mrs. Tresslyn. She did not rise. Her gloved hand was
+extended and he took it without hesitation.
+
+"It is good to see you again, Braden," she said, with the bland,
+perfunctory parting of the lips that stands for a smile with women of her
+class. He meant nothing to her now.
+
+"Thanks," he said, and moved on to George, who regarded him with some
+intensity for a moment and then gripped his hand heartily. "How are you,
+George?"
+
+"Fine! First stage of regeneration, you know. I'm glad to see you, Brady."
+
+There was such warmth in the repressed tones that Thorpe's hand clasp
+tightened. Tresslyn was still a friend. His interest quickened into a keen
+examination of the young man who had pronounced himself in the first stage
+of regeneration, whatever that may have signified to one of George's type.
+He was startled by the haggard, sick look in the young fellow's face.
+George must have read the other's expression, for he said: "I'm all
+right,--just a little run down. That's natural, I suppose."
+
+"He has a dreadful cold," said Anne, who had overheard. "I can't get him
+to do anything for it."
+
+"Don't you worry about me, Anne," said George stoutly.
+
+"Just the same, you should take care of yourself," said Braden. "Pneumonia
+gets after you big fellows, you know. How are you, Wade? Poor old Wade,
+you must miss my grandfather terribly. You knew him before I was born. It
+seems an age, now that I think of it in that way."
+
+"Thirty-three years, sir," said Wade. "Nearly ten years longer than
+Murray, Mr. Braden, It does seem an age."
+
+The will was not a lengthy document. The reading took no more than three
+minutes, and for another full minute after its conclusion, not a person in
+the room uttered a word. A sort of stupefaction held them all in its
+grip,--that is, all except the old lawyer who was putting away his glasses
+and waiting for the outburst that was sure to follow.
+
+In the first place, Mr. Thorpe remembered Anne. After declaring that she
+had been satisfactorily provided for in a previous document, known to her
+as a contract, he bequeathed to her the house in which she had lived for a
+single year with him. All of its contents went with this bequest. To
+Josiah Wade he left the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars, to Edward
+Murray ten thousand dollars, and to each of the remaining servants in his
+household a sum equal to half of their earnings while in his service.
+There were bequests to his lawyer, his doctor and his secretary, besides
+substantial gifts to persons who could not by any chance have expected
+anything from this grim old man,--such as the friendly doorman at his
+favourite club, and the man who had been delivering newspapers to him for
+a score of years or more, and the old negro bootblack who had attended him
+at the Brevoort in the days before the Italian monopoly set in, and the
+two working-girls who supported the invalid widow of a man who had gone to
+prison and died there after having robbed the Thorpe estate of a great
+many thousands of dollars while acting as a confidential and trusted
+agent.
+
+Then came the astounding disposition of the fortune that had accumulated
+in the time of Templeton Thorpe. There were no bequests outright to
+charity, contrary to all expectations. The listeners were prepared to hear
+of huge gifts to certain institutions and societies known to have been
+favoured by the testator. Various hospitals were looked upon as sure to
+receive splendid endowments, and specific colleges devoted to the
+advancement of medical and surgical science were also regarded as
+inevitable beneficiaries. It was all cut and dried, so far as Judge
+Hollenback's auditors were concerned,--that is to say, prior to the reading
+of the will. True, the old lawyer had declared in the beginning, that the
+present will was drawn and signed on the afternoon of the day before the
+death of Mr. Thorpe, and that a previous instrument to which a codicil had
+been affixed was destroyed in the presence of two witnesses. The
+instrument witnessed by Wade and Murray was the one that had been
+destroyed. This should have aroused uneasiness in the mind of Braden
+Thorpe, if no one else, but he was slow to recognise the significance of
+the change in his grandfather's designs.
+
+With his customary terseness, Templeton Thorpe declared himself to be
+hopelessly ill but of sound mind at the moment of drawing his last will
+and testament, and suffering beyond all human endurance. His condition at
+that moment, and for weeks beforehand, was such that death offered the
+only panacea. He had come to appreciate the curse of a life prolonged
+beyond reason. Therefore, in full possession of all his faculties and
+being now irrevocably converted to the principles of mercy advocated by
+his beloved grandson, Braden Lanier Thorpe, he placed the residue of his
+estate in trust, naming the aforesaid Braden Lanier Thorpe as sole
+trustee, without bond, the entire amount to be utilised and expended by
+him in the promotion of his noble and humane propaganda in relation to the
+fate of the hopelessly afflicted among those creatures fashioned after the
+image of God. The trust was to expire with the death of the said Braden
+Lanier Thorpe, when all funds remaining unused for the purposes herein set
+forth were to go without restriction to the heirs of the said trustee,
+either by bequest or administration.
+
+In so many words, the testator rested in his grandson full power and
+authority to use these funds, amounting to nearly six million dollars, as
+he saw fit in the effort to obtain for the human sufferer the same mercy
+that is extended to the beast of the field, and to make final disposition
+of the estate in his own will. Realising the present hopelessness of an
+attempt to secure legislation of this character, he suggested that first
+of all it would be imperative to prepare the way to such an end by
+creating in the minds of all the peoples of the world a state of common
+sense that could successfully combat and overcome love, sentimentality and
+cowardice! For these three, he pointed out, were the common enemy of
+reason. "And in compensation for the discharge of such duties as may come
+under the requirements of this trusteeship, the aforesaid Braden Lanier
+Thorpe shall receive the fees ordinarily allotted by law and, in addition,
+the salary of twenty-five thousand dollars per annum, until the terms of
+this instrument are fully carried out."
+
+Anne Tresslyn Thorpe was named as executrix of the will.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Simmy Dodge was the first to speak. He was the first to grasp the full
+meaning of this deliberately ambiguous will. His face cleared.
+
+"By Jove!" he exclaimed, without respect for the proprieties. He slapped
+Braden on the back, somewhat enthusiastically. "We sha'n't have to smash
+it, after all. It's the cleverest thing I've ever listened to, old man.
+What a head your grandfather had on his--"
+
+Braden leaped to his feet, his face quivering. "Of course we'll smash it,"
+he stormed. "Do you suppose or imagine for an instant that I will allow
+such a thing as that to stand? Do you--"
+
+"Go slow, Brady, go slow," broke in his excited, self-appointed lawyer.
+"Can't you see through it? Can't you see what he was after? Why, good
+Lord, man, he has made you the principal legatee,--he has actually given
+you _everything_. All this rigmarole about a trust or a foundation or
+whatever you want to call it amounts to absolutely nothing. The money is
+yours to do what you like with as long as you live. You have complete
+control of every dollar of it. No one else has a thing to say about it.
+Why, it's the slickest, soundest will I've--"
+
+"Oh, my God!" groaned Braden, dropping into a chair and covering his face
+with his hands.
+
+Judge Hollenback was smiling benignly. He had drawn the will. He knew that
+it was sound, if not "slick," as Simmy had described it. The three
+Tresslyns leaned forward in their chairs, bewildered, dumbfounded. Their
+gaze was fixed on the shaking figure of Braden Thorpe.
+
+As for Wade, he had sunk helplessly into a chair. A strange, hunted look
+appeared in his eyes. His chin sank lower and lower, and his body
+twitched. He was not caring what happened to Braden Thorpe, he was not
+even thinking about the vast fortune that had been placed at the young
+man's disposal. His soul was sick. In spite of all that he could do to
+prevent it, his gaze went furtively to Murray's rubicund jowl, and then
+shifted to the rapt, eager face of his young mistress. Twenty-five
+thousand dollars! There was no excuse for him now. With all that money he
+could not hope to stay on in service. He was rich. He would have to go out
+into the world and shift for himself. He could not go on 'tending furnace
+for Mrs. Thorpe,--he couldn't take the bread out of some deserving
+wretch's mouth by hanging onto the job with all that money in his
+possession. Mrs. Thorpe would congratulate him on the morrow, and turn him
+out. And no one would tell him where to go,--unless it might be Murray, in
+a fit of anger.
+
+"Mr. Thorpe was not moved by any desire to circumvent certain--perhaps I
+should say that he intended you, Dr. Thorpe, to act in strict accordance
+with the provisions of the will," said Judge Hollenback. "He did not lose
+sight of the fact that he had promised to leave you out of his will
+completely. This money is not yours. It is in your hands as trustee. Mr.
+Dodge is wrong. Your grandfather was very deeply in earnest when he
+authorised the drawing of this instrument. You will discover, on reading
+it carefully and thoughtfully, that he does not give you the right to
+divert any of this money to your own private uses, but clearly says that
+it is to be employed, under your sole direction and as you see fit, for
+the carrying out of your ideas along certain lines. He has left a letter
+for you, Dr. Thorpe, which I have been privileged to read. You will find
+it in this envelope. For the benefit of future beneficiaries under this
+instrument, I may say that he expresses the hope and desire that you will
+not permit the movement to languish after your death. In fact, he
+expressly instructs you to establish during your life time a systematic
+scheme of education by reason of which the world eventually may become
+converted to the ideas which you promulgate and defend. He realised that
+this cannot he brought about in one generation, nor in two, three or four.
+Indeed, he ventures the opinion that two centuries may pass before this
+sound and sensible theory of yours,--the words are his, not mine,--becomes a
+reality. Two centuries, mind you. So, you will see, he does not expect you
+to perform a miracle, Braden. You are to start the ball rolling, so to
+speak, in a definite, well-supported groove, from which there can be no
+deviation. By this will, you are to have free and unhampered use of a vast
+sum of money. He does not bind you in any particular. So much for the
+outward expression of the will. Inversely, however, as you will find by
+reading this letter, you are not so completely free to exercise your own
+discretion. You will find that while he gives to you the undisputed right
+to bequeath this fortune as you may see fit at the expiration of your term
+as trustee--in short, at your death,--he suggests that,--being an honourable
+and conscientious man to his certain knowledge,--you will create a so-
+called foundation for the perpetuation of your ideas--and his, I may add.
+This foundation is to grow out of and to be the real development of the
+trust over which you now have absolute control. But all this, my friend,
+we may discuss later on. The real significance of Mr. Thorpe's will is to
+be found in the faith he reposes in you. He puts you on your honour. He
+entrusts this no inconsiderable fortune to your care. It rests entirely
+with you as to the manner in which it shall be used. If you elect to
+squander it, there is no one to say nay to you. It is expressly stated
+here that the trust comprehends the spread of the doctrines you advocate,
+but it does not pretend to guide or direct you in the handling of the
+funds. Mr. Thorpe trusts you to be governed by the dictates of your own
+honour. I have no hesitancy in saying that I protested against this
+extraordinary way of creating a trust, declaring to him that I thought he
+was doing wrong in placing you in such a position,--that is to say, it was
+wrong of him to put temptation in your way. He was confident, however. In
+fact, he was entirely satisfied with the arrangement. I will admit that at
+the time I had a queer impression that he was chuckling to himself, but of
+course I was wrong. It was merely the quick and difficult breathing of one
+in dire pain. The situation is quite plain, ladies and gentlemen. The will
+is sound. Mr. Dodge has observed,--somewhat hastily I submit,--that he
+believes it will not have to be smashed. He says that the money has been
+left to Dr. Thorpe, and that the trust is a rigmarole, or something of the
+sort. Mr. Dodge is right, after a fashion. If Dr. Thorpe chooses to
+violate his grandfather's staunch belief in his integrity, if he elects to
+disregard the suggestions set down in this letter--which, you must
+understand, is in no sense a legal supplement to the will,--he may justify
+Mr. Dodge's contention that the fortune is his to do with as he pleases."
+He turned to Anne. "I beg to inform you, Mrs. Thorpe, that your duties as
+executrix will not prove onerous. Your late husband left his affairs in
+such shape that there will be absolutely no difficulty in settling the
+estate. It could be done in half an hour, if necessary. Everything is
+ship-shape, as the saying is. I shall be glad to place myself at the
+command of yourself and your attorneys. Have no hesitancy in calling upon
+me."
+
+He waited. No one spoke. Braden was looking at him now. He had recovered
+from his momentary collapse and was now listening intently to the old
+lawyer's words. There was a hard, uncompromising light in his eyes,--a
+sullen prophecy of trouble ahead. After a moment, Judge Hollenback
+construed their silence as an invitation to go on. He liked to talk.
+
+"Our good friend Dodge says that no one else has a thing to say about the
+manner in which the trustee of this vast fund shall disperse his dollars."
+(Here he paused, for it sounded rather good to him.) "Ahem! Now does Mr.
+Dodge really believe what he says? Just a moment, please. I am merely
+formulating--er--I beg pardon, Mrs. Thorpe. You were saying--?"
+
+"I prefer not to act as executrix of the will, Judge Hollenback," said
+Anne dully. "How am I to go about being released from--"
+
+"My dear Mrs. Thorpe, you must believe me when I say that your
+duties,--er--the requirements,--are practically _nil_. Pray do not labour
+under the impression that--"
+
+"It isn't that," said Anne. "I just don't want to serve, that's all. I
+shall refuse."
+
+"My daughter will think the matter over for a few days, Judge Hollenback,"
+said Mrs. Tresslyn suavely. "She _does_ feel, I've no doubt, that it would
+be a tax on her strength and nerves. In a few days, I'm sure, she will
+feel differently." She thought she had sensed Anne's reason for
+hesitating. Mrs. Tresslyn had been speechless with dismay--or perhaps it
+was indignation--up to this moment. She had had a hard fight to control her
+emotions.
+
+"We need not discuss it now, at any rate," said Anne. She found it
+extremely difficult to keep from looking at Braden as she spoke. Something
+told her that he was looking hard at her. She kept her face averted.
+
+"Quite right, quite right," said Judge Hollenback. "I hope you will
+forgive me, Braden, for mentioning your--er--theories,--the theories which
+inspired the somewhat disturbing clause in your grandfather's will. I feel
+that it is my duty to explain my position in the matter. I was opposed to
+the creation of this fund. I tried to make your grandfather see the utter
+fallacy of his--shall we call it whim? Now, I will not put myself in the
+attitude of denying the true humanity of your theory. I daresay it has
+been discussed by physicians for ages. It was my aim to convince your
+grandfather that all the money in the world cannot bring about the result
+you desire. I argued from the legal point of view. There are the insurance
+companies to consider. They will put obstacles in the way of--"
+
+"Pardon me, Judge Hollenback," interrupted Braden steadily. "I do not
+advocate an illegal act. We need not discuss my theories, however. The
+absurdity of the clause in my grandfather's will is as clear to me as it
+is to you. The conditions cannot be carried out. I shall refuse to accept
+this trusteeship."
+
+Judge Hollenback stared. "But, my dear friend, you must accept. What is to
+become of the--er--money if you refuse to act? You can't possibly refuse.
+There is no other provision for the disposition of the estate. He has put
+it squarely up to you. There is no other solution. You may be sure, sir,
+that I do not care what you do with the money, and I fancy no one else
+will undertake to define your--"
+
+"Just the same, sir, I cannot and will not accept," said Braden, finality
+in his tone. "I cannot tell you how shocked, how utterly overwhelmed I am
+by--"
+
+Simmy interrupted him. "I'd suggest, old fellow, that you take Mr.
+Thorpe's letter to your rooms and read it. Take time to think it all out
+for yourself. Don't go off half-cocked like this."
+
+"You at least owe it to yourself and to your grandfather--" began Judge
+Hollenback soothingly, but was cut short by Braden, who arose and turned
+to the door. There he stopped and faced them.
+
+"I'm sorry, Judge Hollenback, but I must ask you to consider the matter
+closed. I shall leave you and Mr. Dodge to find a satisfactory solution.
+In the first place, I am a practising physician and surgeon. I prefer to
+regulate my own life and my life's work. I need not explain to you just
+how deeply I am interested in the saving of human life. That comes first
+with me. My theories, as you call them, come second. I cannot undertake
+the promotion of these theories as a salaried advocate. This is the only
+stupid and impractical thing that my grandfather ever did, I believe. He
+must have known that the terms of the will could not be carried out. Mr.
+Dodge is right. It was his way of leaving the property to me after
+declaring that he would not do so, after adding the codicil annulling the
+bequest intended for me. He broke a solemn compact. Now he has made the
+situation absolutely impossible. I shall not act as trustee of this fund,
+and I shall not use a penny of the fortune 'as I see fit,' Judge
+Hollenback. There must be some other channel into which all this money can
+be diverted without--"
+
+"There is no provision, sir, as I said before," said Judge Hollenback
+testily. "It can only be released by an act of yours. That is clear, quite
+clear."
+
+"Then, I shall find a way," said Braden resolutely. "I shall go into court
+and ask to have the will set aside as--"
+
+"That's it, sir, that's it," came an eager voice from an unexpected
+quarter. Wade was leaning forward in his chair, visibly excited by the
+prospect of relief. "I can testify, sir, that Mr. Thorpe acted
+strangely,--yes, very queerly,--during the past few months. I should say
+that he was of unsound mind." Then, as every eye was upon him, he subsided
+as suddenly as he had begun.
+
+"Shut up!" whispered Murray, murderously, bending over, the better to
+penetrate his ear. "You damn fool!"
+
+Judge Hollenback indulged in a frosty smile. "Mr. Wade is evidently
+bewildered." Then, turning to Braden, he said: "Mr. Dodge's advice is
+excellent. Think the matter over for a few days and then come to see me."
+
+"I am placed in a most unhappy position," said Braden, with dignity. "Mrs.
+Thorpe appreciates my feelings, I am sure. She was led to believe, as I
+was, that my grandfather had left me out of his will. Such a thing as this
+subterfuge never crossed my mind, nor hers. I wish to assure her, in the
+presence of all of you, that I was as completely ignorant of all this--"
+
+"I know it, Braden," interrupted Anne. "I know that you had nothing to do
+with it. And for that reason I feel that you should accept the trust that
+is--"
+
+"Anne!" cried out Braden, incredulously. "You cannot mean it. You--"
+
+"I do mean it," she said firmly. "It is your greatest justification. You
+should carry out his wishes. He does not leave you the money outright. You
+may do as you please with it, to be sure, but why should you agree with
+Simmy that it may be converted solely to your own private uses? Why should
+you feel that he intended you to have it all for your own? Does he not set
+forth explicitly just what uses it is to be put to by you during your
+lifetime? He puts you on your honour. He knew what he was about when he
+overruled Judge Hollenback's objection. He knew that this trust would be
+safe in your hands. Yes, Braden, he knew that you would not spend a penny
+of it on yourself."
+
+He was staring at her blankly. Mrs. Tresslyn was speaking now, but it is
+doubtful if he heard a word that she uttered. He was intent only upon the
+study of Anne's warm, excited face.
+
+"Mr. Thorpe assured me a little over a year ago," began Anne's mother, a
+hard light in her eyes, "that it was his determination to leave his
+grandson out of his will altogether. It was his desire,--or at least, so he
+said,--to remove from Braden's path every obstacle that might interfere
+with his becoming a great man and a credit to his name. By that, of
+course, he meant money unearned. He told me that most of his fortune was
+to go to Charitable and Scientific Institutions. I had his solemn word of
+honour that his grandson was to be in no sense a beneficiary under his
+will. He--"
+
+"Please, mother!" broke in Anne, a look of real shame in her eyes.
+
+"And so how are we to reconcile this present foolishness with his very
+laudable display of commonsense of a year ago?" went on Mrs. Tresslyn, the
+red spot darkening in her cheek. "He played fast and loose with all of us.
+I agree with Braden Thorpe. There was treachery in--"
+
+"Ahem!" coughed Judge Hollenback so loudly and so pointedly that the angry
+sentence was not completed.
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn was furious. She had been cheated, and Anne had been
+cheated. The old wretch had played a trick on all of them! He had bought
+Anne for two millions, and now _nothing_,--absolutely _nothing_ was to go
+to Charity! Braden was seven times a millionaire instead of a poor but
+ambitious seeker after fame!
+
+In the few minutes that followed Judge Hollenback's cough, she had time to
+restore her equanimity to its habitual elevation. It had, for once,
+stooped perilously near to catastrophe.
+
+Meanwhile, her son George had arrived at a conclusion. He arose from his
+chair with a wry face and a half uttered groan, and crossed over to
+Braden's side. Strange, fierce pains were shooting through all the joints
+and muscles of his body.
+
+"See here, Brady, I'd like to ask a question, if you don't mind."
+
+"I don't mind. What is it?"
+
+"Would you have operated on Mr. Thorpe if you'd known what was in this
+will?"
+
+Braden hesitated, but only for a second. "Yes. My grandfather asked me to
+operate. There was nothing else for me to do under the circumstances."
+
+"That's just what I thought. Well, all I've got to say is that so long as
+you respected his wishes while he was alive it seems pretty rotten in you
+to take the stand you're taking now."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"He virtually asked you to make an end of him. You both knew there was no
+chance. You operated and he died. I'm speaking plainly, you see. No one
+blames you. You did your best. But it seems to me that if you could do
+what he asked you to do at that time, you ought to do what he asks of you
+now. As long as you were willing to respect his last wish alive, you ought
+not to stir up a rumpus over his first wish dead."
+
+The two men were looking hard into each other's eyes. George's voice shook
+a little, but not from fear or nervousness. He was shivering with the
+chill that precedes fever.
+
+Anne drew a step or two nearer. She laid an appealing hand on George's
+arm.
+
+"I think I understand you, George," said Thorpe slowly. "You are telling
+me that you believe I took my grandfather's life by design. You--"
+
+"No," said George quietly, "I'm not saying that, Brady. I'm saying that
+you owe as much to him now as you did when he was alive. If you had not
+consented to operate, this will would never have been drawn. If you had
+refused, the first will would have been read to-day. I guess you are
+entirely responsible for the making of this new will, and that's why I say
+you ought to be man enough to stand by your work."
+
+Thorpe turned away. His face was very white and his hands were clenched.
+
+Anne shook her brother's arm. "Why,--oh, why did you say that to him,
+George? Why--"
+
+"Because it ought to have been said to him," said George coolly; "that's
+why. He made old Mr. Thorpe see things from his point of view, and it's up
+to him to shoulder the responsibility."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn spoke to Murray. "Is there any reason why we shouldn't have
+tea, Murray? Serve it, please." She turned to Judge Hollenback. "I don't
+see any sense in trying to settle all the little details to-day, do you,
+Judge Hollenback? We've done all that it is possible to do to-day. The
+will has been read. That is all we came for, I fancy. I confess that I am
+astonished by several of the provisions, but the more I think of them the
+less unreasonable they seem to be. We have nothing to quarrel about. Every
+one appears to be satisfied except Dr. Thorpe, so let us have tea--and
+peace. Sit down, Braden. You can't decide the question to-day. It has too
+many angles."
+
+Braden lifted his head. "Thank you, Mrs. Tresslyn; I shall not wait. At
+what hour may I see you to-morrow, Judge Hollenback?"
+
+"Name your own hour, Braden."
+
+"Three o'clock," said Braden succinctly. He turned to George. "No hard
+feelings, George, on my part."
+
+"Nor on mine," said George, extending his hand. "It's just my way of
+looking at things lately. No offence was meant, Brady. I'm too fond of you
+for that."
+
+"You've given me something to think about," said Thorpe. He bowed stiffly
+to the ladies and Judge Hollenback. George stepped out into the hall with
+him.
+
+"I intend to stick pretty close to Anne, Brady," he said with marked
+deliberation. "She needs me just now."
+
+Thorpe started. "I don't get your meaning, George."
+
+"There will be talk, old man,--talk about you and Anne. Do you get it now?"
+
+"Good heaven! I--yes, I suppose there will be all sorts of conjectures,"
+groaned Braden bitterly. "People remember too well, George. You may rest
+easy, however. I shall not give them any cause to talk. As for coming to
+this house again, I can tell you frankly that as I now feel I could almost
+make a vow never to enter its doors again as long as I live."
+
+"Well, I just thought I'd let you know how I stand in the matter," said
+George. "I'm going to try to look out for Anne, if she'll let me. Good-
+bye, Brady. I hope you'll count me as one of your friends, if you think
+I'm worth while. I'm--I'm going to make a fresh start, you know." He
+grinned, and his teeth chattered.
+
+"You'd better go to bed," said Braden, looking at him closely. "Tell Anne
+that I said so, and--you'd better let a doctor look you over, too."
+
+"I haven't much use for doctors," said George, shaking his head. "I wanted
+to kill you last winter when you cut poor little Lutie--Oh, but of course
+you understand. I was kind of dotty then, I guess. So long."
+
+Simmy came to the library door and called out: "I'll be with you in a
+second, Brady. I'm going your way, and I don't care which way you're
+going. My car's outside." Re-entering the room, Mr. Dodge walked up to
+Anne and actually shook her as a parent would shake a child. "Don't be
+silly about it, Anne. You've got to accept the house. He left it to you
+without--"
+
+"I cannot live up to the conditions. The will says that I must continue to
+make this place my home, that I must reside here for--Oh! I cannot do it,
+that's all, Simmy. I would go mad, living here. There is no use discussing
+the matter. I will not take the house."
+
+"'Pon my soul," sighed Judge Hollenback, "the poor man seems to have made
+a mess of everything. He can't even give his property away. No one will
+take it. Braden refuses, Mrs. Thorpe refuses, Wade is dissatisfied--Ah,
+yes, Murray seems to be pleased. One lump, Mrs. Tresslyn, and a little
+cream. Now as for Wade's attitude--by the way, where is the man?"
+
+Wade was at the lower end of the hall, speaking earnestly in a tremulous
+undertone to Braden Thorpe.
+
+"Yes, sir, Mr. Braden, there's only one thing to do. We've got to have it
+set aside, declared void. You may count on me, sir. I'll swear to his
+actions. Crazy as a loon, sir,--? crazy as a loon."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+Two days later George Tresslyn staggered weakly into Simmy Dodge's
+apartment. He was not alone. A stalwart porter from an adjacent apartment
+building was supporting him when Dodge's man opened the door.
+
+"This Mr. Dodge?" demanded the porter.
+
+"Mr. Dodge's man. Mr. Dodge isn't at 'ome," said Baffly quickly.
+
+"All right," said the porter, pushing past the man and leading George
+toward a couch he had observed from the open door. "This ain't no jag,
+Johnny. He's sick. Out of his head. Batty. Say, don't you know him? Am I
+in wrong? He said he wanted to come here to--"
+
+George had tossed himself, sprawling, upon the long couch. His eyes were
+closed and his breathing was stertorous.
+
+"Of course I know him. What--what is the matter with him? My Gawd, man,
+don't tell me he is dying. What do you mean, bringing 'im 'ere? There will
+be a coroner's hinquest and--"
+
+"You better get a doctor first. Waste no time. Get the coroner afterward
+if you have to. You tell Mr. Dodge that he came into our place half an
+hour ago and said he wanted to go up to his friend's apartment. He was
+clean gone then. He wanted to lick the head porter for saying Mr. Dodge
+didn't live in the buildin'. We saw in a minute that he hadn't been
+drinkin'. Just as we was about to call an ambulance, a gentleman in our
+building came along and reckonised him as young Mr. Tresslyn. Friend of
+Mr. Dodge's. That was enough for us. So I brings him around. Now it's up
+to you guys to look after him. Off his nut. My name's Jenks. Tell it to
+Mr. Dodge, will you? And git a doctor quick. Put your hand here on his
+head. Aw, he won't bite you! Put it _here_. Ever feel anything as hot as
+that?"
+
+Baffly arose to the occasion. "Mr. Dodge 'as been hexpecting Mr. Tresslyn.
+He will also be hexpecting you, Mr. Jenks, at six o'clock this evening."
+
+"All right," said Mr. Jenks.
+
+Baffly put George Tresslyn to bed and then called up Mr. Dodge's favourite
+club. He never called up the office except as a last resort. If Mr. Dodge
+wasn't to be found at any one of his nine clubs, or at certain
+restaurants, it was then time for calling up the office. Mr. Dodge was not
+in the club, but he had left word that if any one called him up he could
+be found at his office.
+
+"Put him to bed and send for Dr. Thorpe," was Simmy's order a few minutes
+later.
+
+"I've put 'im to bed, sir."
+
+"Out of his head, you say?"
+
+"I said, 'Put 'im to bed, sir,'" shouted Baffly.
+
+"I'll be home in half-an-hour, Baffly."
+
+Simmy called up Anne Thorpe at once and reported that George had been
+found and was now in his rooms. He would call up later on. She was not to
+worry,--and good-bye!
+
+It appears that George Tresslyn had been missing from the house near
+Washington Square since seven o'clock on the previous evening. At that
+hour he left his bed, to which Dr. Bates had ordered him, and made off in
+the cold, sleety night, delirious with the fierce fever that was consuming
+him. As soon as his plight was discovered, Anne called up Simmy Dodge and
+begged him to go out in search of her sick, and now irresponsible brother.
+In his delirium, George repeatedly had muttered threats against Braden
+Thorpe for the cruel and inhuman "slashing of the most beautiful, the most
+perfect body in all the world," "marking for life the sweetest girl that
+God ever let live"; and that he would have to account to him for "the
+dirty work he had done."
+
+Acting on this hint, Simmy at once looked up Braden Thorpe and put him on
+his guard. Thorpe laughed at his fears, and promptly joined in the search
+for the sick man. They thought of Lutie, of course, and hurried to her
+small apartment. She was not at home. Her maidservant said that she did
+not know where she could be found. Mrs. Tresslyn had gone out alone at
+half-past seven, to dine with friends, but had left no instructions,--a
+most unusual omission, according to the young woman.
+
+It was a raw, gusty night. A fine, penetrating sleet cut the face, and the
+sharp wind drove straight to the marrow of the most warmly clad. Tresslyn
+was wandering about the streets, witless yet dominated by a great purpose,
+racked with pain and blind with fever, insufficiently protected against
+the gale that met his big body as he trudged doggedly into it in quest
+of--what? He had left Anne's home without overcoat, gloves or muffler. His
+fever-struck brain was filled with a resolve that deprived him of all
+regard for personal comfort or safety. He was out in the storm, looking
+for some one, and whether love or hate was in his heart, no man could
+tell.
+
+All night long Dodge and Thorpe looked for him, aided in their search by
+three or four private detectives who were put on the case at midnight. At
+one o'clock the two friends reappeared at Lutie's apartment, summoned
+there by the detective who had been left on guard with instructions to
+notify them when she returned.
+
+It was from the miserable, conscience-stricken Lutie that they had an
+account of George's adventures earlier in the night. White-faced, scared
+and despairing, she poured out her unhappy tale of triumph over love and
+pity. The thing that she had longed for, though secretly dreaded, had
+finally come to pass. She had seen her former husband in the gutter,
+degraded, besotted, thoroughly reduced to the level from which nothing
+save her own loyal, loving efforts could lift him. She had dreamed of a
+complete conquest of caste, and the remaking of a man. She had dreamed of
+the day when she could pick up from the discarded of humanity this
+splendid, misused bit of rubbish and in triumph claim it as her own, to
+revive, to rebuild, to make over through the sure and simple processes of
+love! This had been Lutie Tresslyn's notion of revenge!
+
+She saw George at eight o'clock that night. As she stood in the shelter of
+the small canvas awning protecting the entrance to the building in which
+she lived, waiting for the taxi to pull up, her eyes searched the swirling
+shadows up and down the street. She never failed to look for the distant
+and usually indistinct figure of _her man_. It had become a habit with
+her. The chauffeur had got down to crank his machine, and there was
+promise of a no inconsiderable delay in getting the cold engine started.
+She was on the point of returning to the shelter of the hallway, when she
+caught sight of a tall, shambling figure crossing the street obliquely,
+and at once recognised George Tresslyn. He was staggering. The light from
+the entrance revealed his white, convulsed face. Her heart sank. She had
+never seen him so drunk, so disgusting as this! The taxi-cab was twenty or
+thirty feet away. She would have to cross a wet, exposed space in order to
+reach it before George could come up with her. She realised with a quiver
+of alarm that it was the first time in all these months that he had
+ventured to approach her. It was clear that he now meant to accost her,--he
+might even contemplate violence! She wanted to run, but her feet refused
+to obey the impulse. Fascinated she watched the unsteady figure lurching
+toward her, and the white face growing more and more distinct and
+forbidding as it came out of the darkness. Suddenly she was released from
+the spell. Like a flash she darted toward the taxi-cab. From behind came a
+hoarse cry.
+
+"Lutie! For God's sake--"
+
+"Quick!" she cried out to the driver. "Open the door! Be quick!"
+
+The engine was throbbing. She looked back. George was supporting himself
+by clinging to one of the awning rods. His legs seemed to be crumbling
+beneath his weight. Her heart smote her. He had no overcoat. It was a bare
+hand that gripped the iron rod and a bare hand that was held out toward
+her. Thank heaven, he had stopped there! He was not coming on.
+
+"Lutie! Oh, Lutie!" came almost in a wail from his lips. Then he began to
+cry out something incoherent, maudlin, unintelligible.
+
+"Never mind him," said the driver reassuringly. "Just a souse. Wants to
+make a touch, madam. Streets are full of 'em these cold nights. He won't
+bone you while I'm here. Where to?" He was holding the door open.
+
+Lutie hesitated. Long afterwards she recalled the strange impulse that
+came so near to sending her back to the side of the man who cried out to
+her from the depths of a bottomless pit. Something whispered from her
+heart that _now was her time_,--_now_! And then came the loud cry from her
+brain, drowning the timid voice of the merciful: "Wait! Wait! Not now! To-
+morrow!"
+
+And while she stood there, uncertain, held inactive by the two warring
+emotions, George turned and staggered away, reeling, and crying out in a
+queer, raucous voice.
+
+"They'll get him," said the driver.
+
+"Who will get him?" cried Lutie, shrilly.
+
+"The police. He--"
+
+"No! No! It must not be _that_. That's not what I want,--do you hear,
+driver? Not that. He must not be locked up--Oh!" George had collapsed. His
+knees went from under him and he was half-prostrate on the curb. "Oh! He
+has fallen! He has hurt himself! Go and see, driver. Go at once." She
+forgot the sleet and the wind, and stood there wide-eyed and terrified
+while the man shuffled forward to investigate. She hated him for stirring
+the fallen man with his foot, and she hated him when he shook him
+violently with his hands.
+
+"I better call a cop," said the man. "He's pretty full. He'll freeze if--I
+know how it is, ma'am. I used to hit it up a bit myself. I--"
+
+"Listen!" cried Lutie, regaining the shelter of the awning, where she
+stopped in great perturbation. "Listen; you must put him in your cab and
+take him somewhere. I will pay you. Here! Here is five dollars. Don't mind
+me. I will get another taxi. Be quick! There is a policeman coming. I see
+him,--there by--"
+
+"Gee! I don't know where to take him. I--"
+
+"You can't leave him lying there in the gutter, man," she cried fiercely.
+"The gutter! The gutter! My God, what a thing to happen to--"
+
+"Here! Get up, you!" shouted the driver, shaking George's shoulder. "Come
+along, old feller. I'll look out for you. Gee! He weighs a ton."
+
+Tresslyn was mumbling, half audibly, and made little or no effort to help
+his unwilling benefactor, who literally dragged him to his feet.
+
+"Is--is he hurt?" cried Lutie, from the doorway.
+
+"No. Plain souse."
+
+"Where will you take him?"
+
+The man reflected. "It wouldn't be right to take him to his home. Maybe
+he's got a wife. These fellers beat 'em up when they get like this."
+
+"A wife? Beat them up--oh, you don't know what you are saying. He--"
+
+At this juncture George straightened out his powerful figure, shook off
+the Samaritan and with a loud, inarticulate cry rushed off down the
+street. The driver looked after the retreating figure in utter amazement.
+
+"By Gosh! Why--why; he ain't any more drunk than I am," he gasped. "Well,
+can you beat that? All bunk! It beats thunder what these panhandlers will
+do to pick up a dime or two. He was--say, he saw the cop, that's what it
+was. Lord, look at him go!"
+
+Tresslyn was racing wildly toward the corner. Lutie, aghast at this
+disgusting exhibition of trickery, watched the flying figure of her
+husband. She never knew that she was clinging to the arm of the driver.
+She only knew that her heart seemed to have turned to lead. As he turned
+the corner and disappeared from view, she found her voice and it seemed
+that it was not her own. He had swerved widely and almost lost his feet as
+he made the turn. He _was_ drunk! Her heart leaped with joy. He _was_
+drunk. He had not tried to trick her.
+
+"Go after him!" she cried out, shaking the man in her agitation. "Find
+him! Don't let him get away. I--"
+
+But the policeman was at her elbow.
+
+"What's the matter here?" he demanded.
+
+"Panhandler," said the driver succinctly.
+
+"Just a poor wretch who--who wanted enough for--for more drink, I suppose,"
+said Lutie, warily. Her heart was beating violently. She was immensely
+relieved by the policeman's amiable grunt. It signified that the matter
+was closed so far as he was concerned. He politely assisted her into the
+taxi-cab and repeated her tremulous directions to the driver. As the
+machine chortled off through the deserted street, she peered through the
+little window at the back. Her apprehensions faded. The officer was
+standing where she had left him.
+
+Then came Thorpe and Simmy Dodge in the dead hour of night and she learned
+that she had turned away from him when he was desperately ill. Sick and
+tortured, he had come to her and she had denied him. She looked so
+crushed, so pathetic that the two men undertook to convince her that she
+had nothing to fear,--they would protect her from George!
+
+She smiled wanly, shook her head, and confessed that she did not want to
+be protected against him. She wanted to surrender. She wanted _him_ to
+protect her. Suddenly she was transformed. She sprang to her feet and
+faced them, and she was resolute. Her voice rang with determination, her
+lips no longer drooped and trembled, and the appeal was gone from her
+eyes.
+
+"He must be found, Simmy," she said imperatively. "Find him and bring him
+here to me. This is his home. I want him here."
+
+The two men went out again, half an hour later, to scour the town for
+George Tresslyn. They were forced to use every argument at their command
+to convince her that it would be highly improper, in more ways than one,
+to bring the sick man to her apartment. She submitted in the end, but they
+were bound by a promise to take him to a hospital and not to the house of
+either his mother or his sister.
+
+"He belongs to me," she said simply. "You must do what I tell you to do.
+They do not want him. I do. When you have found him, call me up, Simmy,
+and I will come. I shall not go to bed. Thank you,--both of you,--for--for--"
+She turned away as her voice broke. After a moment she faced them again.
+"And you will take charge of him, Dr. Thorpe?" she said. "I shall hold you
+to your promise. There is no one that I trust so much as I do you."
+
+Thorpe was with the sick man when Simmy arrived at his apartment. George
+was rolling and tossing and moaning in his delirium, and the doctor's face
+was grave.
+
+"Pneumonia," he said. "Bad, too,--devilish bad. He cannot be moved, Simmy."
+
+Simmy did not blink an eye. "Then right here he stays," he said heartily.
+"Baffly, we shall have two nurses here for a while,--and we may also have
+to put up a young lady relative of Mr. Tresslyn's. Get the rooms ready. By
+Jove, Brady, he--he looks frightfully ill, doesn't he?" His voice dropped
+to a whisper. "Is he likely to--to--you know!"
+
+"I think you'd better send for Dr. Bates," said Braden gravely. "I believe
+his mother and sister will be better satisfied if you have him in at once,
+Simmy."
+
+"But Lutie expressly--"
+
+"I shall do all that I can to redeem my promise to that poor little girl,
+but we must consider Anne and Mrs. Tresslyn. They may not have the same
+confidence in me that Lutie has. I shall insist on having Dr. Bates called
+in."
+
+"All right, if you insist. But--but you'll stick around, won't you, Brady?"
+
+Thorpe nodded his head. He was watching the sick man's face very closely.
+
+Half an hour later, Lutie Tresslyn and Anne Thorpe entered the elevator on
+the first floor of the building and went up together to the apartment of
+Simeon Dodge. Anne had lifted her veil,--a feature in her smart tribute to
+convention,--and her lovely features were revealed to the cast-off sister-
+in-law. For an instant they stared hard at each other. Then Anne,
+recovering from her surprise, bowed gravely and held out her hand.
+
+"May we not forget for a little while?" she said.
+
+Lutie shook her head. "I can't take your hand--not yet, Mrs. Thorpe. It was
+against me once, and I am afraid it will be against me again." She
+detected the faintest trace of a smile at the corners of Anne's mouth. A
+fine line appeared between her eyes. This fine lady could still afford to
+laugh at her! "I am going up to take care of my husband, Mrs. Thorpe," she
+added, a note of defiance in her voice. She was surprised to see the
+smile,--a gentle one it was,--deepen in Anne's eyes.
+
+"That is why I suggested that we try to forget," she said.
+
+Lutie started. "You--you do not intend to object to my--" she began, and
+stopped short, her eyes searching Anne's for the answer to the uncompleted
+question.
+
+"I am not your enemy," said Anne quietly. She hesitated and then lowered
+the hand that was extended to push the button beside Simmy's door. "Before
+we go in, I think we would better understand each other, Lutie." She had
+never called the girl by her Christian name before. "I have nothing to
+apologise for. When you And George were married I did not care a pin, one
+way or the other. You meant nothing to me, and I am afraid that George
+meant but little more. I resented the fact that my mother had to give you
+a large sum of money. It was money that I could have used very nicely
+myself. Now that I look back upon it, I am frank to confess that therein
+lies the real secret of my animosity toward you. It didn't in the least
+matter to me whether George married you, or my mother's chambermaid, or
+the finest lady in the land. You will be surprised to learn that I looked
+upon myself as the one who was being very badly treated at the time. To
+put it rather plainly, I thought you were getting from my mother a great
+deal more than you were worth. Forgive me for speaking so frankly, but it
+is best that you should understand how I felt in those days so that you
+may credit me with sincerity now. I shall never admit that you deserved
+the thirty thousand dollars you took from us, but I now say that you were
+entitled to keep the man you loved and married. I don't care how unworthy
+you may have seemed to us, you should not have been compelled to take
+money for something you could not sell--the enduring love of that sick boy
+in there. My mother couldn't buy it, and you couldn't sell it. You have it
+still and always will have it, Lutie. I am glad that you have come to take
+care of him. You spoke of him as 'my husband' a moment ago. You were
+right. He _is_ your husband. I, for one, shall not oppose you in anything
+you may see fit to do. We do not appear to have been capable of preserving
+what you gave back to us--for better or for worse, if you please,--so I
+fancy we'd better turn the job over to you. I hope it isn't too late. I
+love my brother now. I suppose I have always loved him but I overlooked
+the fact in concentrating my affection on some one else,--and that some one
+was myself. You see I do not spare myself, Lutie, but you are not to
+assume that I am ashamed of the Anne Tresslyn who was. I petted and
+coddled her for years and I alone made her what she was, so I shall not
+turn against her now. There is a great deal of the old Anne in me still
+and I coddle her as much as ever. But I've found out something new about
+her that I never suspected before, and it is this new quality that speaks
+to you now. I ask you to try to forget, Lutie."
+
+Throughout this long speech Lutie's eyes never left those of the tall
+young woman in black.
+
+"Why do you call me Lutie?" she asked.
+
+"Because it is my brother's name for you," said Anne.
+
+Lutie lowered her eyes for an instant. A sharp struggle was taking place
+within her. She had failed to see in Anne's eyes the expression that would
+have made compromise impossible: the look of condescension. Instead, there
+was an anxious look there that could not be mistaken. She was in earnest.
+She could be trusted. The old barrier was coming down. But even as her
+lips parted to utter the words that Anne wanted to hear, suspicion
+intervened and Lutie's sore, tried heart cried out:
+
+"You have come here to _claim_ him! You expect me to stand aside and let
+you take him--"
+
+"No, no! He is yours. I _did_ come to help him, to nurse him, to be a real
+sister to him, but--that was before I knew that you would come."
+
+"I am sorry I spoke as I did," said Lutie, with a little catch in her
+voice. "I--I hope that we may become friends, Mrs. Thorpe. If that should
+come to pass, I--am sure that I could forget."
+
+"And you will allow me to help--all that I can?"
+
+"Yes." Then quickly, jealously: "But he _belongs_ to me. You must
+understand that, Mrs. Thorpe."
+
+Anne drew closer and whispered in sudden admiration. "You are really a
+wonderful person, Lutie Carnahan. How _can_ you be so fine after all that
+you have endured?"
+
+"I suppose it is because I too happen to love myself," said Lutie drily,
+and turned to press the button. "We are all alike." Anne laid a hand upon
+her arm.
+
+"Wait. You will meet my mother here. She has been notified. She has not
+forgiven you." There was a note of uneasiness in her voice.
+
+Lutie looked at her in surprise. "And what has that to do with it?" she
+demanded.
+
+Then they entered the apartment together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+George Tresslyn pulled through.
+
+He was a very sick man, and he wanted to die. That is to say, he wanted to
+die up to a certain point and then he very much wanted to live. Coming out
+of his delirium one day he made a most incredible discovery, and at that
+very instant entered upon a dream that was never to end. He saw Lutie
+sitting at his bedside and he knew that it must be a dream. As she did not
+fade away then, nor in all the mysterious days that followed, he came to
+the conclusion that if he ever did wake up it would be the most horrible
+thing that could happen to him. It was a most grateful and satisfying
+dream. It included a wonderful period of convalescence, a delightful and
+ever-increasing appetite, a painless return voyage over a road that had
+been full of suffering on the way out, a fantastic experience in the
+matter of legs that wouldn't work and wobbled fearfully, a constant but
+properly subdued desire to sing and whistle--oh, it was a glorious dream
+that George was having!
+
+For six weeks he was the uninvited guest of Simmy Dodge. Three of those
+weeks were terrifying to poor Simmy, and three abounded with the greatest
+joy he had ever known, for when George was safely round the corner and on
+the road to recovery, the hospitality of Simmy Dodge expanded to hitherto
+untried dimensions. Relieved of the weight that had pressed them down to
+an inconceivable depth, Simmy's spirits popped upward with an
+effervescence so violent that there was absolutely no containing them.
+They flowed all over the place. All day long and most of the night they
+were active. He hated to go to bed for fear of missing an opportunity to
+do something to make everybody happy and comfortable, and he was up so
+early in the morning that if he hadn't been in his own house some one
+would have sent him back to bed with a reprimand.
+
+He revelled in the establishment of a large though necessarily
+disconnected family circle. The nurses, the doctors, the extra servants,
+Anne's maid, Anne herself, the indomitable Lutie, and, on occasions, the
+impressive Mrs. Tresslyn,--all of these went to make up Simmy's family.
+
+The nurses were politely domineering: they told him what he could do and
+what he could not do, and he obeyed them with a cheerfulness that must
+have shamed them. The doctors put all manner of restrictions upon him; the
+servants neglected to whisper when discussing their grievances among
+themselves; his French poodle was banished because canine hospitality was
+not one of the niceties, and furthermore it was most annoying to recent
+acquaintances engaged in balancing well-filled cups of broth in transit;
+his own luxurious bath-room was seized, his bed-chambers invested, his
+cosy living-room turned into a rest room which every one who happened to
+be disengaged by day or night felt free to inhabit. He had no privacy
+except that which was to be found in the little back bedroom into which he
+was summarily shunted when the occupation began, and he wasn't sure of
+being entirely at home there. At any time he expected a command to
+evacuate in favour of an extra nurse or a doctor's assistant. But through
+all of it, he shone like a gem of purest ray.
+
+At the outset he realised that his apartment, commodious when reckoned as
+a bachelor's abode, was entirely inadequate when it came to accommodating
+a company of persons who were not and never could be bachelors. Lutie
+refused to leave George; and Anne, after a day or two, came to keep her
+company. It was then that Simmy began to reveal signs of rare strategical
+ability. He invaded the small apartment of his neighbour beyond the
+elevator and struck a bargain with him. The neighbour and his wife rented
+the apartment to him furnished for an indefinite period and went to Europe
+on the bonus that Simmy paid. Here Anne and her maid were housed, and here
+also Mrs. Tresslyn spent a few nights out of each week.
+
+He studied the nurses' charts with an avid interest. He knew all there was
+to know about temperature, respiration and nourishment; and developing a
+sudden sort of lordly understanding therefrom, he harangued the engineer
+about the steam heat, he cautioned the superintendent about noises, and he
+held many futile arguments with God about the weather. Something told him
+a dozen times a day, however, that he was in the way, that he was "a
+regular Marceline," and that if Brady Thorpe had any sense at all he would
+order him out of the house!
+
+He began to resent the speed with which George's convalescence was marked.
+He was enjoying himself so immensely in his new environment that he hated
+to think of going back to the old and hitherto perfect order of existence.
+When Braden Thorpe and Dr. Bates declared one day that George would be
+able to go home in a week or ten days, he experienced a surprising and
+absolutely inexplicable sinking of the heart. He tried to persuade them
+that it would be a mistake to send the poor fellow out inside of a month
+or six weeks. That was the trouble with doctors, he said: they haven't any
+sense. Suppose, he argued, that George were to catch a cold--why, the damp,
+spring weather would raise the dickens--Anne's house was a drafty old barn
+of a place, improperly heated,--and any fool could see that if George _did_
+have a relapse it would go mighty hard with him. Subsequently he sounded
+the nurses, severally, on the advisability of abandoning the poor, weak
+young fellow before he was safely out of the woods, and the nurses, who
+were tired of the case, informed him that the way George was eating he
+soon would be as robust as a dock hand. An appeal to Mrs. Tresslyn brought
+a certain degree of hope. That lady declared, quite bitterly, that
+inasmuch as her son did not seem inclined to return to _her_ home he might
+do a great deal worse than to remain where he was, and it was some time
+before Simmy grasped the full significance of the remark.
+
+He remembered hearing Lutie say that she was going to take George home
+with her as soon as he was able to be moved!
+
+What was he to do with himself after all these people were gone? For the
+first time in his life he really knew what it meant to have a home, and
+now it was to be broken up. He saw more of his home in the five or six
+weeks that George was there than he had seen of it all told in years. He
+stayed at home instead of going to the club or the theatre or to stupid
+dinner parties. He hadn't the faintest idea that a place where a fellow
+did nothing but sleep and eat bacon and eggs could be looked upon as a
+"home." He had thought of it only as an apartment, or "diggings." Now he
+loved his home and everything that was in it. How he would miss the
+stealthy blue linen nurses, and the expressionless doctors, and the odour
+of broths and soups, and the scent of roses, and the swish of petticoats,
+and the elevating presence of pretty women, and the fragrance of them, and
+the sweet chatter of them--Oh my, oh me-oh-my! If George would only get
+well in a more leisurely fashion!
+
+Certain interesting events, each having considerable bearing upon the
+lives of the various persons presented in this narrative, are to be
+chronicled, but as briefly as possible so that we may get on to the
+results.
+
+Naturally one turns first to the patient himself. He was the magnet that
+drew the various opposing forces together and, in a way, united them in a
+common enterprise, and therefore is of first importance. For days his life
+hung in the balance. Most of the time he was completely out of his head.
+It has been remarked that he thought himself to be dreaming when he first
+beheld Lutie at his bedside, and it now becomes necessary to report an
+entirely different sensation when he came to realise that he was being
+attended by Dr. Thorpe. The instant he discovered Lutie he manifested an
+immense desire to live, and it was this desire that sustained a fearful
+shock when his fever-free eyes looked up into the face of his doctor.
+Terror filled his soul. Almost his first rational words were in the form
+of a half-whispered question: "For God's sake, can't I get well? Is--is it
+hopeless?"
+
+Braden was never to forget the anguish in the sick man's eyes, nor the
+sagging of his limp body as if all of his remaining strength had given way
+before the ghastly fear that assailed him. Thorpe understood. He knew what
+it was that flashed through George's brain in that first moment of
+intelligence. His heart sank. Was it always to be like this? Were people
+to live in dread of him? His voice was husky as he leaned over and laid
+his hand gently upon the damp brow of the invalid.
+
+"You are going to get well, George. You will be as sound as a rock in no
+time at all. Trust me, old fellow,--and don't worry."
+
+"But that's what they always say," whispered George, peering straight into
+the other's eyes. "Doctors always say that. What are you doing here,
+Brady? Why have you been called in to--"
+
+"Hush! You're all right. Don't get excited. I have been with you from the
+start. Ask Lutie--or Anne. They will tell you that you are all right."
+
+"I don't want to die," whined George. "I only want a fair chance. Give me
+a chance, Brady. I'll show you that I--"
+
+"My God!" fell in agonised tones from Thorpe's lips, and he turned away as
+one condemned.
+
+When Lutie and Anne came into the room soon afterward, they found George
+in a state of great distress. He clutched Lutie's hand in his strong
+fingers and drew her down close to him so that he could whisper furtively
+in her ear.
+
+"Don't let any one convince you that I haven't a chance to get well,
+Lutie. Don't let him talk you into anything like that. I won't give my
+consent, Lutie,--I swear to God I won't. He can't do it without my consent.
+I've just got to get well. I can do it if I get half a chance. I depend on
+you to stand out against any--"
+
+Lutie managed to quiet him. Thorpe had gone at once to her with the story
+and she was prepared. For a long time she talked to the frightened boy,
+and at last he sank back with a weak smile on his lips, confidence
+partially restored.
+
+Anne stood at the head of the bed, out of his range of vision. Her heart
+was cold within her. It ached for the other man who suffered and could not
+cry out. _This_ was but the beginning for him.
+
+In a day or two George's attitude toward Braden underwent a complete
+change, but all the warmth of his enthusiastic devotion could not drive
+out the chill that had entered Thorpe's heart on that never-to-be-
+forgotten morning.
+
+Then there were the frequent and unavoidable meetings of Anne and her
+former lover. For the better part of three weeks Thorpe occupied a room in
+Simmy's apartment, to be constantly near his one and only patient. He
+suffered no pecuniary loss in devoting all of his time and energy to young
+Tresslyn. Ostensibly he was in full charge of the case, but in reality he
+deferred to the opinions and advice of Dr. Bates, who came once a day. He
+had the good sense to appreciate his own lack of experience, and thereby
+earned the respect and confidence of the old practitioner.
+
+It was quite natural that he and Anne should come in contact with each
+other. They met in the sick-room, in the drawing-room, and frequently at
+table. There were times during the darkest hours in George's illness when
+they stood side by side in the watches of the night. But not once in all
+those days was there a word bearing on their own peculiar relationship
+uttered by either of them. It was plain that she had the greatest
+confidence in him, and he came, ere long, to regard her as a dependable
+and inspired help. Unlike the distracted, remorseful Lutie, she was the
+source of great inspiration to those who worked over the sick man. Thorpe
+marvelled at first and then fell into the way of resorting to her for
+support and encouragement. He had discovered that she was not playing a
+game.
+
+Templeton Thorpe's amazing will was not mentioned by either of them,
+although each knew that the subject lay uppermost in the mind of the
+other. The newspapers printed columns about the instrument. Reporters who
+laid in wait for Braden Thorpe, however, obtained no satisfaction. He had
+nothing to say. The same reporters fell upon Anne and wanted to know when
+she expected to start proceedings to have the will set aside. They seemed
+astonished to hear that there was to be no contest on her part. She could
+not tell them anything about the plans or intentions of Dr. Thorpe, and
+she had no opinion as to the ultimate effect of the "Foundation" upon the
+Constitution of the United States or the laws of God!
+
+As a matter of fact, she was more eager than any one else to know the
+stand that Braden intended to take on the all-absorbing question.
+Notwithstanding her peculiar position as executrix of the will under which
+the conditions were created, she could not bring herself to the point of
+discussing the salient feature of the document with him. And so there the
+matter stood, unmentioned by either of them, and absolutely unsettled so
+far as the man most deeply involved was concerned.
+
+Then came the day when Thorpe announced that it was no longer necessary
+for him to impose upon Simmy's hospitality, and that he was returning that
+evening to his hotel. George was out of danger. It was then that he said
+to Anne:
+
+"You have been wonderful, Anne. I want to thank you for what you have done
+to help me. You might have made the situation impossible, but--well, you
+didn't, that's all. I am glad that you and that poor little woman in there
+have become such good friends. You can do a great deal to help her--and
+George. She is a brick, Anne. You will not lose anything by standing by
+her now. As I said before, you can always reach me by telephone if
+anything goes wrong, and I'll drop in every morning to--"
+
+"I want you to know, Braden, that I firmly believe you saved George for
+us. I shall not try to thank you, however. You did your duty, of course.
+We will let Lutie weep on your neck, if you don't mind, and you may take
+my gratitude for granted." There was a slightly satirical note in her
+voice.
+
+His figure stiffened. "I don't want to be thanked," he said,--"not even by
+Lutie. You must know that I did not come into this case from choice. But
+when Lutie insisted I--well, there was nothing else to do."
+
+"Would you have come if I had asked you?" she inquired, and was very much
+surprised at herself.
+
+"No," he answered. "You would have had no reason for selecting me, and I
+would have told you as much. And to that I would have added a very good
+reason why you shouldn't."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I may as well be frank, Anne. People,--our own friends,--are bound to
+discuss us pretty thoroughly from now on. No matter how well we may
+understand each other and the situation, the rest of the world will not
+understand, simply because it doesn't want to do so. It will wait,--rather
+impatiently, I fear,--for the chance to say, 'I told you so.' Of course,
+you are sensible enough to have thought of all this, still I don't see why
+I shouldn't speak of it to you."
+
+"Has it occurred to you that our friends may be justified in thinking that
+I _did_ call upon you to take this case, Braden?" she asked quietly.
+
+He frowned. "I daresay that is true. I hadn't thought of it--"
+
+"They also believe that I summoned you to take charge of my husband a few
+weeks ago. No one has advised the world to the contrary. And now that you
+are here, in the same house with me, what do you suppose they will say?" A
+queer little smile played about her lips, a smile of diffidence and
+apology.
+
+He gave her a quick look of inquiry. "Surely no one will--"
+
+"They will say the Widow Thorpe's devotion to her brother was not her only
+excuse for moving into good old Simmy's apartment, and they will also say
+that Dr. Thorpe must be singularly without practice in order to give all
+of his time to a solitary case."
+
+"Oh, for heaven's sake, Anne," he cried impatiently, "give people credit
+for having a little commonsense and charity. They--"
+
+"I don't give them credit for having anything of the kind," she said
+coolly, "when it comes to discussing their fellow creatures. I hope you
+are not distressed, Braden. As you have said, people will discuss us. We
+cannot escape the consequences of being more or less public institutions,
+you and I. Of course they will talk about our being here together. I knew
+that when I came here three weeks ago."
+
+"Then why did you come?" he demanded.
+
+She replied with a directness that shamed him. "Because I do not want
+people to talk about Lutie. That is one reason. Another is that I wanted
+to do my share in looking after George." Suddenly her eyes narrowed.
+"You--you do not imagine that I--I--you couldn't have thought _that_ of me,
+Braden."
+
+He shook his head slowly. "If I had thought _that_, Anne, I should not
+have told you a moment ago that you were wonderful," he said.
+
+Few women would have been content to let it go at that. It is the
+prerogative of woman to expect more than a crumb, and, if it is not
+forthcoming from others, to gratify the appetite by feeding confidently
+upon herself. In this instance, Anne might have indulged herself in the
+comfort of a few tremulous words of self-justification, and even though
+they drew nothing in exchange, she would at least have had the pleasure of
+uttering them, and the additional satisfaction of knowing that he would
+have to listen to them, whether or no. But she was far too intelligent for
+that. Her good sense overcame the feminine craving; she surprised him by
+holding her tongue.
+
+He waited for a second or two and then said: "Good-bye. I shall drop in
+to-morrow to see George."
+
+She held out her hand. "He swears by you," she said, with a smile.
+
+For the first time in more than a year, their hands touched. Up to this
+moment there had not been the remotest evidence of an inclination on the
+part of either to bridge the chasm that lay between them. The handclasp
+was firm but perfunctory. She had herself under perfect control. It is of
+importance to note, however, that later on she pressed her hand to her
+lips, and that there were many times during the day when she looked at it
+as if it were something unreal and apart from her own physical being.
+
+"Thank heaven he doesn't feel toward me as he did last week," he said
+fervently. "I shall never get over that awful moment. I shall never forget
+the look of despair that--"
+
+"I know," she interrupted. "I saw it too. But it is gone now, so why make
+a ghost of it? Don't let it haunt you, Braden."
+
+"It is easy to say that I shouldn't let it--"
+
+"If you are going to begin your life's work by admitting that you are
+thin-skinned, you'll not get very far, my friend," she said seriously.
+"Good-bye."
+
+She smiled faintly as she turned away. He was never quite sure whether it
+was encouragement or mockery that lay in her dark eyes when she favoured
+him with that parting glance. He stood motionless until she disappeared
+through the door that opened into the room where George was lying; his
+eyes followed her slender, graceful figure until she was gone from sight.
+His thoughts leaped backward to the time when he had held that lovely,
+throbbing, responsive body close in his arms, to the time when he had
+kissed those, sensitive lips and had found warmth and passion in them, to
+the time when he had drunk in the delicate perfume of her hair and the
+seductive fragrance of her body. That same slender, adorable body had been
+pressed close to his, and he had trembled under the enchantment it held.
+
+He went away plagued and puzzled by an annoying question that kept on
+repeating itself without answer; was it in his power now to rouse the old
+flame in her blood, to revive the tender fires that once consumed her
+senses when he caressed her? Would she be proof against him if he set out
+to reconquer? She seemed so serene, so sure of herself. Was it a pose or
+had love really died within her?
+
+By no means the least important of the happenings in Simmy's house was the
+short but decisive contest that took place between Lutie and Mrs.
+Tresslyn. They met first in the sick-room, and the shock was entirely one-
+sided. It was George's mother who sustained it. She had not expected to
+find the despised "outcast" there. For once her admirable self-control was
+near to being shattered. If she had been permitted to exercise the right
+of speech at that crucial moment, she would have committed the
+irretrievable error of denouncing the brazen creature in the presence of
+disinterested persons. Afterwards she thanked her lucky stars for the
+circumstances which compelled her to remain angrily passive, for she was
+soon to realise what such an outburst would have brought upon her head.
+
+She took it out on Anne, as if Anne were wholly to blame for the outrage.
+Anne had the temerity,--the insolence, Mrs. Tresslyn called it,--to advise
+her to make the best of a situation that could not be helped. She held
+forth at some length for her daughter's benefit about "common decency,"
+and was further shocked by Anne's complacency.
+
+"I think she's behaving with uncommon decency," said Anne. "It isn't every
+one who would turn the other cheek like this. Let her alone. She's the
+best thing that can happen to George."
+
+"My dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Tresslyn, aghast. "Of course, I shall not come
+to this apartment while she is here. That is out of the question."
+
+"Inasmuch as Lutie was here first and means to stay, I am afraid you will
+have to reconsider that decision, mother,--provided you want to be near
+George."
+
+"Did you speak of her as 'Lutie'?" demanded Mrs. Tresslyn, staring.
+
+"I don't know what else to call her," said Anne.
+
+"Simeon Dodge will appreciate my feelings,--my position--"
+
+"Simmy is very much on her side, so I'd advise you to steer clear of him,"
+said Anne impatiently. "Now, mother dear, don't upset things here. Don't
+make a fuss. Don't--"
+
+"A fuss?" cried her mother, trying hard not to believe her ears.
+
+"Don't make it any harder for poor old Simmy. He is in for a rough time of
+it. Tresslyns everywhere! It isn't a lovely prospect, you know. He will be
+fed up with us before--And, mother, don't overlook the fact that George is
+very ill. He may not pull through. He--"
+
+"Of course he will get well. He's as strong as an ox. Don't be silly."
+
+The next day she and Lutie met in the library and had it out,--briefly, as
+I said before, but with astounding clarity. Mrs. Tresslyn swept into the
+library at four in the afternoon, coming direct from her home, where, as
+she afterwards felt called upon to explain in self-defence, the telephone
+was aggravatingly out of order,--and that was why she hadn't called up to
+inquire!--(It is so often the case when one really wants to use the stupid
+thing!) She was on the point of entering the sick-room when Lutie came up
+from behind.
+
+"I'm afraid you can't go in just now, Mrs. Tresslyn," she said, firmly and
+yet courteously.
+
+George's mother started as if stung. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and her tone was
+so declaratory that it was not necessary to add the unspoken--"it's _you_,
+is it?"
+
+"He is asleep," said Lutie gently. "They won't even allow _me_ to go in."
+
+This was too much for Mrs. Tresslyn. She transfixed the slight, tired-eyed
+young woman with a look that would have chilled any one else to the
+bone--the high-bred look that never fails to put the lowly in their places.
+
+"Indeed," she said, with infinite irony in her voice. "This is Miss
+Carnahan, I believe?" She lifted her lorgnon as a further aid to
+inspection.
+
+"I am the person you have always spoken of as Miss Carnahan," said Lutie
+calmly. Throughout the brief period in which she had been legally the wife
+of George Tresslyn, Lutie was never anything but Miss Carnahan to her
+mother-in-law. Mrs. Tresslyn very carefully forbore giving her daughter-
+in-law a respectable name. "I was afraid you might have forgotten me."
+
+"You will forgive me if I confess that I have tried very hard to forget
+you, Miss Carnahan," said the older woman.
+
+"It isn't my fault that you haven't been able to do so," said Lutie.
+"Please! you are not to go in." Mrs. Tresslyn's hand was turning the door-
+knob.
+
+"I fear you are forgetting who I am," said she coldly.
+
+"Oh, I know you're his mother, and all that," said Lutie, breathlessly. "I
+do not question your right to be with your son. That isn't the point. The
+nurse has ordered your daughter and me out of the room for awhile. It is
+the first wink of sleep he has had in heaven knows how long. So you cannot
+go in and disturb him, Mrs. Tresslyn."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn's hand fell away from the knob. For a moment she regarded
+the tense, agitated girl in silence.
+
+"Has it occurred to you to feel--if you can feel at all--that you may not be
+wanted here, Miss Carnahan?" she said, deliberately cruel. She towered
+above her adversary.
+
+"Will you be kind enough to come away from the door?" said Lutie, wholly
+unimpressed. "It isn't very thick, and the sound of voices may penetrate--"
+
+"Upon my soul!" exclaimed Mrs. Tresslyn, staring. "Do you presume to--"
+
+"Not quite so loud, if you please. Come over here if you want to talk to
+me, Mrs. Tresslyn. Nurse's orders, not mine. I don't in the least mind
+what you say to me, or what you call me, or anything, but I do entreat you
+to think of George."
+
+Greatly to her own surprise, Mrs. Tresslyn moved away from the door, and,
+blaming herself inwardly for the physical treachery that impelled her to
+do so, sat down abruptly in a chair on the opposite side of the room,
+quite as far removed from the door as even Lutie could have desired.
+
+Lutie did not sit down. She came over and stood before the woman who had
+once driven her out. Her face was white and her eyes were heavy from loss
+of sleep, but her voice was as clear and sharp as a bell.
+
+"We may as well understand each other, Mrs. Tresslyn," she said quietly.
+"Or, perhaps I'd better say that you may as well understand me. I still
+believe myself to be George's wife. A South Dakota divorce may be all
+right so far as the law is concerned, but it will not amount to
+_that_"--she snapped her fingers--"when George and I conclude to set it
+aside. I went out to that God-forsaken little town and stayed there for
+nearly a year, eating my heart out until I realised that it wasn't at all
+appetising. I lived up to my bargain, however. I made it my place of
+residence and I got my decree. I tore that hateful piece of paper up last
+night before I came here. You paid me thirty thousand dollars to give
+George up, and he allowed you to do it. Now I have just this to say, Mrs.
+Tresslyn: if George gets well, and I pray to God that he may, I am going
+back to him, and I don't care whether we go through the form of marrying
+all over again or not. He is my husband. I am his wife. There never was an
+honest cause for divorce in our case. He wasn't as brave as I'd have liked
+him to be in those days, but neither was I. If I had been as brave as I am
+now, George wouldn't be lying in there a wreck and a failure. You may take
+it into your head to ask why I am here. Well, now you know. I'm here to
+take care of my husband."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn's steady, uncompromising gaze never left the face of the
+speaker. When Lutie paused after that final declaration, she waited a
+moment for her to resume.
+
+"There is, of course," said she levelly, "the possibility that my son may
+not get well."
+
+Lutie's eyes narrowed. "You mean that you'd rather see him die than--"
+
+"Miss Carnahan, I am compelled to speak brutally to you. I paid you to
+give up my son. You took the money I proffered and the divorce I arranged
+for. You agreed to--"
+
+"Just a moment, please. I took the money and--and _got out_ in order to
+give George a chance to marry some one else and be happy. That was what
+you wanted, and what _you_ promised me. You promised me that if I gave him
+up he would find some one else more worthy, that he would forget me and be
+happy, and that I would be forgotten inside of six months. Well, none of
+these things has happened. He hasn't found any one else, he still loves
+me, and he isn't happy. I am going back on my bargain, Mrs. Tresslyn,
+because you haven't carried out your part of it. If you think it was easy
+for me to give him up when I did, you are very much mistaken. But that
+wouldn't interest you, so I'll say no more about it. We'll come down to
+the present, if you don't mind, and see where we stand; George needs me
+now, but no more than he has needed me all along. I intend to stick to him
+like a leech from this time on, Mrs. Tresslyn. You had your chance to make
+_your_ kind of a man out of him, and I guess you'll admit that you failed.
+Well, I'm going to begin where you were content to leave off. You treated
+me like a dog, and God knows you've treated George but little better,
+although perhaps you didn't know what you were doing to him. He is down
+and out. You didn't expect things to turn out as they have. You thought
+I'd be the one to go to the devil. Now I'll put it up to you squarely. I
+still have the thirty thousand you gave me. It is nicely invested. I have
+lived comfortably on the income. A few years ago I sold George to you for
+that amount. Well, I'll buy him back from you to-morrow."
+
+"Buy my son from me?" gasped Mrs. Tresslyn.
+
+"You made it a business proposition three years ago, so I'll do the same
+now. I want to be fair and square with you. I'm going to take him back in
+any event, but I shall be a great deal better satisfied if you will let me
+pay for him."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn had recovered herself by this time. She gave the younger
+woman a frosty smile.
+
+"And I suppose you will expect to get him at a considerably reduced
+price," she said sarcastically, "in view of the fact that he is damaged
+goods."
+
+"You shall have back every penny, Mrs. Tresslyn," said Lutie, with
+dignity.
+
+"How ingenuous you are. Do you really believe that I will _sell_ my son to
+you?"
+
+"I sold him to you," said the other, stubbornly.
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn arose. "I think we would better bring this interview to an
+end, Miss Carnahan. I shall spare you the opinion I have formed of you
+in--"
+
+"Just as you please, Mrs. Tresslyn," said Lutie calmly. "We'll consider
+the matter closed. George comes back to me at my own price. I--"
+
+"My son shall never marry you!" burst out Mrs. Tresslyn, furiously.
+
+Lutie smiled. "It's good to see you mad, Mrs. Tresslyn. It proves that you
+are like other people, after all. Give yourself a chance, and you'll find
+it just as easy to be glad as it is to be mad, now that you've let go of
+yourself a little bit."
+
+"You are insufferable! Be good enough to stand aside. I am going in to my
+son. He--"
+
+"If you are so vitally interested in him, how does it happen that you wait
+until four o'clock in the afternoon to come around to inquire about him?
+I've been here on the job since last night--and so has your daughter. But
+you? Where have you been all this time, Mrs. Tresslyn?"
+
+"God in heaven!" gasped Mrs. Tresslyn, otherwise speechless.
+
+"If I had a son I'd be with him day and night at--"
+
+"The telephone was out of order," began Mrs. Tresslyn before she could
+produce the power to check the impulse to justify herself in the eyes of
+this brazen tormentor.
+
+"Indeed?" said Lutie politely.
+
+"My son shall never marry you," repeated the other, helplessly.
+
+"Well," began Lutie slowly, a bright spot in each cheek, "all I have to
+say is that he will be extremely unfair to your grandchildren, Mrs.
+Tresslyn, if he doesn't."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+A ground-floor window in an apartment building in Madison Avenue, north of
+Fifty-ninth street, displayed in calm black lettering the name "Dr. Braden
+L. Thorpe, M.D." On the panel of a door just inside the main entrance
+there was a bit of gold-leaf information to the effect that office hours
+were from 9 to 10 A.M. and from 2 to 4 P.M. There was a reception room and
+a consultation room in the suite. The one was quite as cheerless and
+uninviting as any other reception room of its kind, and the other
+possessed as many of the strange, terrifying and more or less
+misunderstood devices for the prolongation of uncertainty in the minds of
+the uneasy. During office-hours there was also a doctor there. Nothing was
+missing from this properly placarded and admirably equipped
+office,--nothing at all except the patients!
+
+About the time that George Tresslyn fared forth into the world again,
+Thorpe hung out his shingle and sat himself down under his own gates to
+wait for the unwary. But no one came. The lame, the halt and even the
+blind had visions that were not to be dissipated by anything so trivial as
+a neat little sign in an office window. The name of Braden Thorpe was on
+the lips of every one. It was mentioned, not with horror or disgust, but
+as one speaks of the exalted genius whose cure for tuberculosis has
+failed, or of the man who found the North Pole by advertising in the
+newspapers, or of the books of Henry James. He was a person to steer clear
+of, that was all.
+
+Every newspaper in the country discussed him editorially, paragraphically,
+and as an article of news. For weeks after the death of Templeton Thorpe
+and the publication of his will, not a day passed in which Braden Thorpe's
+outlandish assault upon civilisation failed to receive its country-wide
+attention in the press. And when editorial writers, medical sharps, legal
+experts and grateful reporters failed to avail themselves of the full
+measure of space set apart for their gluttony, ubiquitous "Constant
+Reader" rushed into print under many aliases and enjoyed himself as never
+before.
+
+In the face of all this uproar, brought about by the posthumous utterance
+of old Templeton Thorpe, Braden had the courage,--or the temerity, if that
+is a truer word,--to put his name in a window and invite further attention
+to himself.
+
+The world, without going into the matter any deeper than it usually does,
+assumed that he who entered the office of Dr. Thorpe would never come out
+of it alive!
+
+The fact that Thorpe advocated something that could not conceivably become
+a reality short of two centuries made no impression on the world and his
+family. Dr. Thorpe believed that it was best to put sufferers out of their
+misery, and that was all there was to be said about the matter so far as
+Mr. Citizen was concerned.
+
+It would appear, therefore, that all of Templeton Thorpe's ideas, hopes
+and plans concerning the future of his grandson were to be shattered by
+his own lack of judgment and foresight. Without intending to do so he had
+deprived the young man of all that had been given him in the way of
+education, training and character. Young Thorpe might have lived down or
+surmounted the prejudice that his own revolutionary utterances created,
+but he could never overcome the stupendous obstacle that now lay in his
+path.
+
+If Mr. Thorpe had hoped to create, or believed sincerely that it was
+possible to create, a force capable of overpowering the natural instincts
+of man, he had set for himself a task that could have but one result so
+far as the present was concerned, and it was in the present that Braden
+Thorpe lived, very far removed from the future that Mr. Thorpe appeared to
+be seeing from a point close by as he lay on his death-bed. He had
+completely destroyed the present usefulness of his grandson. He had put a
+blight upon him, and now he was sleeping peacefully where mockery could
+not reach him nor reason hold him to account.
+
+The letter that the old man left for his grandson's guidance was an
+affectionate apology, very skilfully worded, for having, in a way, left
+the bulk of his fortune to the natural heir instead of to the great,
+consuming public. True, he did not put this in so many words, but it was
+obvious to the young man, if not to others who saw and read, that he was
+very clear in his mind as to the real purport and intention of the clause
+covering the foundation. He was careful to avoid the slightest expression
+that might have been seized upon by the young man as evidence of treachery
+on his part in view of the solemn promise he had made to leave to him no
+portion of his estate. On the surface, this letter was a simple, direct
+appeal to Braden to abide by the terms of the will, and to consider the
+trust as sacred in spite of the absence of restrictions. To Braden, there
+was but one real meaning to the will: the property was his to have, hold
+or dispose of as he saw fit. He was at liberty either to use every dollar
+of it in carrying out the expressed sentiments of the testator, or to sit
+back luxuriously and console himself with the thought that nothing was
+really expected of him.
+
+The Foundation that received such wide-spread notice, and brought down
+upon his head, not the wrath but the ridicule of his fellow beings, was
+not to serve in any sense as a memorial to the man who provided the money
+with which the work was to be carried on. As a matter of fact, old
+Templeton Thorpe took very good care to stipulate plainly that it was not
+to be employed to any such end. He forbade the use of his name in any
+capacity except as one of the _supporters_ of the movement. The whole
+world rose up at first and heaped anathemas on the name of Templeton
+Thorpe, and then, swiftly recovering its amiable tolerance of fools,
+forgot the dead and took its pleasure in "steering clear of the man who
+was left to hold the bag of gold," as some of the paragraphers would have
+it.
+
+The people forgot old Templeton, and they also became a bit hazy about the
+cardinal principle of the Foundation, much as they forget other disasters,
+but they did not forget to look upon Braden Thorpe as a menace to mankind.
+
+And so it was that after two months of waiting, he closed his office for
+the summer and disappeared from the city. He had not treated a solitary
+patient, nor had he been called in consultation by a single surgeon of his
+acquaintance, although many of them professed friendship for and
+confidence in him.
+
+Six weeks later Simmy Dodge located his friend in a small coast town in
+Maine, practically out of the reach of tourists and not at all accessible
+to motorists. He had taken board and lodging with a needy villager who was
+still honest, and there he sat and brooded over the curse that his own
+intelligence had laid upon him. He had been there for a month or more
+before he lifted his head, figuratively speaking, to look at the world
+again,--and he found it still bright and sparkling despite his desire to
+have it otherwise in order that he might be recompensed for his mood. Then
+it was that he wrote to Simmy Dodge, asking him to sell the furnishings
+and appliances in his office, sublet the rooms, and send to him as soon as
+possible the proceeds of the sale. He confessed frankly and in his
+straightforward way that he was hard up and needed the money!
+
+Now, it should be remembered that Braden Thorpe had very little means of
+his own, a small income from his mother's estate being all that he
+possessed. He had been dependent upon his grandfather up to the day he
+died. Years had been spent in preparing him for the personal achievements
+that were to make him famous and rich by his own hand. Splendid ability
+and unquestioned earning power were the result of Templeton Thorpe's faith
+in the last of his race. But nothing was to come of it. His ability
+remained but his earning power was gone. He was like a splendid engine
+from which the motive power has been shut off.
+
+For weeks after leaving New York he had seen the world blackly through
+eyes that grasped no perspective. But he was young, he was made of the
+flesh that fights, and the spirit that will not down. He looked up from
+the black view that had held his attention so long, and smiled. It was not
+a gay smile but one in which there was defiant humour. After all, why
+shouldn't he smile? These villagers smiled cheerfully, and what had they
+in their narrow lives to cause them to see the world brightly? He was no
+worse off than they. If they could be content to live outside the world,
+why shouldn't he be as they? He was big and strong and young. The fellows
+who went out to sea in the fishing boats were no stronger, no better than
+he. He could do the things that they were doing, and they sang while they
+went to and from their work.
+
+It was the reviving spirit in him that opened his eyes to the lowly joys
+surrounding him. He found himself thinking with surprising interest that
+he could do what these men were doing and do it well, and after all what
+more can be expected of a man than that he should do some one thing well?
+He did not realise at the time that this small, mean ambition to surpass
+these bold fishermen was nothing less than the resurrection of dead hopes.
+
+And so, when Simmy Dodge walked in upon him one day, expecting to find a
+beaten, discouraged skulker, he was confronted by a sun-browned, bare-
+armed, bright-eyed warrior whose smile was that of the man who never
+laughs,--the grim smile of him who thinks.
+
+The lines in his face had deepened under the influence of sun and wind;
+there was a new, almost unnatural ruggedness about the man Simmy had seen
+less than two months before. The cheeks had the appearance of being sunken
+and there was an even firmer look to the strong chin and jaws than in the
+so recent past. Simmy looked at this new, hardy face and wondered whether
+two months in the rough world would do as much in proportion for his own
+self-despised countenance.
+
+Thorpe had been up since five o'clock in the morning. For two weeks he had
+started off every morning at that hour with his landlord for the
+timberlands above the town, where they spent the day hewing out the sills
+and beams for a new boat-house. Unskilled at such labor, his duties were
+not those of the practised workman, but rather those of the "handy man"
+upon whom falls the most arduous tasks as a rule. Thorpe's sinews were
+strained to the utmost in handling the long, unwieldy trunks of the fallen
+trees; his hands were blistered and his legs bruised, but the splendid
+muscles were no longer sore, nor was he so fatigued at day's-end that he
+could have "dropped in his tracks" right joyfully,--as he had felt like
+doing in the first week of his toiling.
+
+"Well, I'll be jiggered," said Simmy, still holding Thorpe's hand as he
+backed away from him the better to take in this new and strange creature
+in overalls. Thorpe and his grizzled host had just come down from the
+woods with a load of pine logs, and had found the trim, immaculate little
+New Yorker waiting for them at the breakwater, directed thither by the
+housewife in the winding lane that was called High Street. "By the way, is
+your name Thorpe?" he added quizzically.
+
+"Yep," said the graduate of three great universities, gripping the little
+man's hand a trifle harder. "All that is left of me is named Thorpe,
+Simmy."
+
+"Have you--hired out as a--Good Lord, Brady, you're not as hard up as all
+that, are you?" Simmy's face was bleak with concern.
+
+"I'm doing it for the fun of the thing," said Thorpe. "Next week I'm going
+out with the boats. I say, Simmy, have you a cigarette about your person?
+I haven't had a--"
+
+Half an hour later, Simmy was seated in the cool little front porch with
+its screen of vines, the scent of the sea filling his sensitive nostrils,
+and he was drinking buttermilk.
+
+"Now, see here, Brady, it's all damned tommyrot," he was saying,--and he
+had said something of the kind several times before in the course of their
+earnest conversation. "There's just one course open to you, and that's the
+right one. You've got to come back to New York and look people in the eye
+and tell 'em to go to Gehenna if they don't like what you're doing. You
+can't go on living like this, no matter how much you love it now. You're
+not cut out for this sort of thing. Lordy, if I was as big and brutal
+looking as you are at this minute I'd stand up for myself against--"
+
+"But you will not understand," repeated Thorpe doggedly. "If my
+attainments, as you call them, are to be of no value to me in helping
+mankind, what is there left for me to do but this? Didn't I have enough of
+it in those horrible two months down there to prove to me that they hate
+me? They--"
+
+"You weren't so thin skinned as all this when you were writing those
+inspired articles of yours, were you? Confound you, Brady, you invited all
+of this, you brought it down upon your head with all that nonsense
+about--why, it was you who converted old Templeton Thorpe and here you are
+running away like a 'white-head.' Haven't you any back-bone?"
+
+"That's all very well, Simmy, but of what value is a back-bone in a case
+like mine? If I had ten back-bones I couldn't compel people to come to me
+for treatment or advice. They are afraid of me. I am a doctor, a surgeon,
+a friend to all men. But if they will not believe that I am their friend,
+how can I be of service to them?"
+
+"You'll get patients, and plenty of 'em too, if you'll just hang on and
+wait. They'll come to know that you wouldn't kill a cockroach if you could
+help it. You'll--what's the matter?" He broke off suddenly with this sharp
+question. A marked pallor had come over Thorpe's sunburnt face.
+
+"Nothing--nothing at all," muttered the other. "The heat up there in the
+woods--"
+
+"You must look out for that, old boy," said Simmy anxiously. "Go slow.
+You're only a city feller, as they'd say up here. What a God-forsaken
+place it is! Not more than two hundred miles from Boston and yet I was a
+whole day getting here."
+
+"It is peaceful, Simmy," said Thorpe.
+
+"I grant you that, by Jove. A fellow could walk in the middle of the
+street here for a solid year without being hit by an automobile. But as I
+was saying, you can make a place for yourself--"
+
+"I should starve, old fellow. You forget that I am a poor man."
+
+"Rats! You've got twenty-five thousand dollars a year, if you'll only be
+sensible. There isn't another man in the United States who would be as
+finicky about it as you are, no matter how full of ideals and principles
+he may be stuffed."
+
+Thorpe looked up suddenly. His jaw was set hard and firm once more. "Don't
+you know what people would say about me if I were to operate and the
+patient died?--as some of them do, you know. They would say that I did it
+deliberately. I couldn't afford to lose in a single instance, Simmy. I
+couldn't take the chance that other surgeons are compelled to take in a
+great many cases. One failure would be sufficient. One--"
+
+"See here, you've just got to look at things squarely, Braden. You owe
+something to your grandfather if not to yourself. He left all that money
+for a certain, definite purpose. You can't chuck it. You've got to come to
+taw. You say that he took this means of leaving the money to you, that the
+trust thing is all piffle, and all that sort of thing. Well, suppose that
+it is true, what kind of a fool would you be to turn up your nose at six
+million dollars? There are all kinds of ways of looking at it. In the
+first place, he didn't leave it to you outright. It _is_ a trust, or a
+foundation, and it has a definite end in view. You are the sole trustee,
+that's the point on which you elect to stick. You are to be allowed to
+handle this vast fortune as your judgment dictates, _as a trustee_, mind
+you. You forget that he fixed your real position rather clearly when he
+stipulated that you were to have a salary of twenty-five thousand dollars
+a year, and fees as a trustee. That doesn't look as though he left it to
+you without strings, does it?"
+
+For an hour they argued the great question. Simmy did not pretend that he
+accepted Braden's theories; in fact, he pronounced them shocking. Still,
+he contended, that was neither here nor there. Braden believed in them,
+and it wasn't any affair of his, after all.
+
+"I don't believe it is right for man to try to do God's work," said he, in
+explaining his objections. "But it doesn't matter what I think about it,
+old chap, so don't mind me."
+
+"Can't you understand, Simmy, that I advocate a simple, direct means of
+relieving the--"
+
+"Sure, I understand," broke in Simmy agreeably.
+
+"Does God send the soldiers into battle, does he send the condemned man to
+the gallows? Man does that, doesn't he? If it is God's work to drop a
+small child into a boiling vat by accident, and if He fails to kill that
+child at once, why shouldn't it be the work of man to complete the job as
+quickly as possible? We shoot down the soldiers. Is that God's work? We
+hang the murderer. Is that God's work? Emperors and kings conduct their
+wars in the name of God and thousands of God's creatures go down to death.
+Do you believe that God approves of this slaughter of the strong and
+hardy? God doesn't send the man to the gallows nor the soldier to the
+fighting line. Man does that, and he does it because he has the power to
+do it, and he lives serene in the consolation that the great, good God
+will not hold him to account for what he has done. We legalise the killing
+of the strong; but not for humane reasons. Why shouldn't we legalise the
+killing of the weak for humane reasons? It may interest you to know,
+Simmy, that we men have more merciful ways of ending life than God Himself
+directs. Why prolong life when it means agony that cannot be ended except
+by the death that so certainly waits a few days or weeks beyond--"
+
+"How can you be sure that a man is going to die? Doctors very frequently
+say that a person has no chance whatever, and then the fellow fools 'em
+and gets well."
+
+"I am not speaking of such cases. I only speak of the cases where there
+can be no doubt. There are such cases, you see. I would let Death take its
+toll, just as it has always done, and I would fight for my patient until
+the last breath was gone from his body. Two weeks ago a child was gored by
+a bull back here in the country. It was disembowelled. That child lived
+for many hours,--and suffered. That's what I mean, in substance. I too
+believe in the old maxim,--'while there's life there's hope.' That is the
+foundation on which our profession is built. A while ago you spoke of the
+extremely aged as possible victims of my theories. I suppose you meant to
+ask me if I would include them in my list. God forbid! To me there is
+nothing more beautiful than a happy, healthy, contented old age. We love
+our old people. If we love them we do not think of them as old. We want
+them to live,--just as I shall want to live, and you, Simmy. And we want
+them to die when their time comes, by God's hand not man's, for God does
+give them a peaceful, glorious end. But we don't want them to suffer, any
+more than we would want the young to suffer, I loved my grandfather. Death
+was a great boon to him. He wanted to die. But all old men do not want to
+die. They--"
+
+"We're not getting anywhere with this kind of talk," interrupted Simmy.
+"The sum and substance is this: you would put it in the power of a few men
+to destroy human life on the representation of a few doctors. If these
+doctors said--"
+
+"And why not? We put it into the power of twelve men to send a man to the
+gallows on the testimony of witnesses who may be lying like thieves. We
+take the testimony of doctors as experts in our big murder trials. If we
+believe some of them we hang the man because they say he is sane. On the
+other hand we frequently acquit the guilty man if they say he's insane."
+
+Simmy squinted a half-closed eye, calculatingly, judicially. "My dear
+fellow, the insane asylums in this country to-day hold any number of
+reasonably sane inmates, sent there by commissions which perhaps
+unintentionally followed out the plans of designing persons who were
+actuated solely by selfish and avaricious motives. Control of great
+properties falls into the hands of conspiring relatives simply because it
+happened to be an easy matter to get some one snugly into a madhouse." He
+said no more. Braden was allowed to draw his own conclusions.
+
+"Oh, I dare say people will go on putting obstacles out of their way till
+the end of time," said he coolly. "If I covet your wife or your ass or
+your money-bags I put poison in your tea and you very obligingly die, and
+all that the law can do is to send me after you as soon as the lawyers
+have got through with me. That is no argument, Simmy. That sort of thing
+will go on forever."
+
+Finally Thorpe settled back in his chair resignedly, worn out by the
+persistent argument of his tormentor.
+
+"Well, suppose that I agree with all you say,--what then? Suppose that I
+take up my burden, as you say I should, and set out to bring the world
+around to my way of thinking, where am I to begin and how?"
+
+Simmy contrived to suppress the sigh of relief that rose to his lips. This
+was making headway, after all. Things looked brighter.
+
+"My dear fellow, it will take you a good many years to even make a
+beginning. You can't go right smack up against the world and say: 'Here,
+you, look sharp! I'm going to hit you in the eye.' In the first place, you
+will have to convince the world that you are a great, big man in your
+profession. You will have to cure ten thousand people before you can make
+the world believe that you are anybody at all. Then people will listen to
+you and what you say will have some effect. You can't do anything now.
+Twenty years from now, when you are at the top of your profession, you
+will be in a position to do something. But in the meantime you will have
+to make people understand that you can cure 'em if anybody can, so that
+when you say _you_ can't cure 'em, they'll know it's final. I'm not asking
+you to renounce your ideas. You can even go on talking about them and
+writing to the newspapers and all that sort of thing, if you want to, but
+you've got to build up a reputation for yourself before you can begin to
+make use of all this money along the lines laid down for you. But first of
+all you must make people say that in spite of your theories you are a
+practical benefactor and not a plain, ordinary crank. Go on sowing the
+seed if you will, and then when the time comes found a college in which
+your principles may be safely and properly taught, and then see what
+people will say."
+
+"It sounds very simple, the way you put it," said Thorpe, with a smile.
+
+"There is no other way, my friend," said Simmy earnestly.
+
+Thorpe was silent for a long time, staring out over the dark waters of the
+bay. The sun had slipped down behind the ridge of hills to the south and
+west, and the once bright sea was now cold and sinister and unsmiling. The
+boats were stealing in from its unfriendly wastes.
+
+"I had not thought of it in that light, Simmy," he said at length. "My
+grandfather said it might take two hundred years."
+
+"Incidentally," said Simmy, shrewdly, "your grandfather knew what he was
+about when he put in the provision that you were to have twenty-five
+thousand dollars a year as a salary, so to speak. He was a far-seeing man.
+He knew that you would have a hard, uphill struggle before you got on your
+feet to stay. He may even have calculated on a lifetime, my friend. That's
+why he put in the twenty-five. He probably realised that you'd be too
+idiotic to use the money except as a means to bring about the millennium,
+and so he said to himself 'I'll have to do something to keep the damn'
+fool from starving.' You needn't have any scruples about taking your pay,
+old boy. You've got to live, you know. I think I've got the old
+gentleman's idea pretty--"
+
+"Well, let's drop the subject for to-night, Simmy," said Thorpe, coming to
+his feet. His chin was up and his shoulders thrown back as he breathed
+deeply and fully of the new life that seemed to spring up mysteriously
+from nowhere. "You'll spend the night with me. There is a spare bed and
+you'll--"
+
+"Isn't there a Ritz in the place?" inquired Simmy, scarcely able to
+conceal his joy.
+
+"Not so that you can notice it," replied Thorpe gaily. He walked to the
+edge of the porch and drank in more of that strange, puzzling air that
+came from vast distances and filled his lungs as they had never been
+filled before.
+
+Simmy watched him narrowly in the failing light. After a moment he sank
+back comfortably in the old rocking chair and smiled as a cat might smile
+in contemplating a captive mouse. The rest would be easy. Thorpe would go
+back with him. That was all that he wanted, and perhaps more than he
+expected. As for old Templeton Thorpe's "foundation," he did not give it a
+moment's thought. Time would attend to that. Time would kill it, so what
+was the use worrying. He prided himself on having done the job very
+neatly,--and he was smart enough to let the matter rest.
+
+"What is the news in town?" asked Braden, turning suddenly. There was a
+new ring in his voice. He was eager for news of the town!
+
+"Well," said Simmy naively, "there is so much to tell I don't believe I
+could get it all out before dinner."
+
+"We call it supper, Simmy."
+
+"It's all the same to me," said Simmy.
+
+And after supper he told him the news as they walked out along the
+breakwater.
+
+Anne Thorpe was in Europe. She closed the house as soon as George was able
+to go to work, and went away without any definite notion as to the length
+of her stay abroad.
+
+"She's terribly upset over having to live in that old house down there,"
+said Simmy, "and I don't blame her. It's full of ghosts, good and bad. It
+has always been her idea to buy a big house farther up town. In fact, that
+was one of the things on which she had set her heart. I don't mind telling
+you that I'm trying to find some way in which she can chuck the old house
+down there without losing anything. She wants to give it away, but I won't
+listen to that. It's worth a hundred thousand if it's worth a nickel. So
+she closed the place, dismissed the servants and--"
+
+"'Gad, my grandfather wouldn't like that," said Braden. "He was fond of
+Murray and Wade and--"
+
+"Murray has bought a saloon in Sixth Avenue and talks of going into
+politics. Old Wade absolutely refused to allow Anne to close up the house.
+He has received his legacy and turned it over to me for investment.
+Confound him, when I had him down to the office afterwards he as much as
+told me that he didn't want to be bothered with the business, and actually
+complained because I had taken him away from his work at that hour of the
+day. Anne had to leave him there as caretaker. I understand he is all
+alone in the house."
+
+"Anne is in Europe, eh? That's good," said Thorpe, more to himself than to
+his companion.
+
+"Never saw her looking more beautiful than the day she sailed," said
+Simmy, peering hard in the darkness at the other's face. "She hasn't had
+much happiness, Brady."
+
+"Umph!" was the only response, but it was sufficient to turn Simmy off
+into other channels.
+
+"I suppose you know that George and Lutie are married again."
+
+"Good! I'm glad to hear it," said Thorpe, with enthusiasm.
+
+"Married two weeks after George went to work in that big bank note
+company's plant. I got the job for him. He starts at the bottom, of
+course, but that's the right way for a chap like George to begin. He'll
+have to make good before he can go up an inch in the business. Fifteen a
+week. But he'll go up, Brady. He'll make good with Lutie to push from
+behind. Awful blow to Mrs. Tresslyn, however. He's a sort of clerk and has
+to wear sleeve papers and an eye-shade. I shall never forget the day that
+Lutie bought him back." Simmy chuckled.
+
+"Bought him back?"
+
+"Yes. She plunked thirty thousand down on the table in my office in front
+of Mrs. Tresslyn and said 'I sha'n't need a receipt, Mrs. Tresslyn. George
+is receipt enough for me.' I'd never seen Mrs. Tresslyn blush before, but
+she blushed then, my boy. Got as red as fire. Then she rose up in her
+dignity and said she wouldn't take the money. How was her son to live, she
+said, if Lutie deprived him of his visible means of support? Lutie replied
+that if George was strong enough to carry the washing back and forth from
+the customers', she'd manage to support him by taking in dirty linen. Then
+Mrs. Tresslyn broke down. Damme, Brady, it brought tears to my eyes. You
+don't know how affecting it is to see a high and mighty person like Mrs.
+Tresslyn humble herself like that. She didn't cry. I was the only one who
+cried, curse me for a silly ass. She just simply said that Lutie was the
+best and bravest girl in the world and that she was sorry for all that she
+had done to hurt her. And she asked Lutie to forgive her. Then Lutie put
+her arm around her and called her an old dear. I didn't see any more on
+account of the infernal tears. But Lutie wouldn't take back the money. She
+said that it didn't belong to her and that she couldn't look George in the
+face if she kept it. So that's how it stands. She and George have a tiny
+little apartment 'way up town,--three rooms, I believe, and so far she
+hasn't taken in anybody's washing. Anne wants to refund the money to
+Lutie, but doesn't know how to go about it. She--er--sort of left it to me
+to find the way. Lordy, I seem to get all of the tough jobs."
+
+"You are a brick, Simmy," said Thorpe, laying his arm across the little
+man's shoulders.
+
+"Heigh-ho!" sighed Simmy. Later on, as they returned through the fog that
+was settling down about them, he inquired: "By the way, will you be ready
+to start back with me to-morrow?"
+
+"Lord love you, no," cried Thorpe. "I've agreed, to help old man Stingley
+with the boat house. I'll come down in three weeks, Simmy."
+
+"Lordy, Lordy!" groaned Simmy, dejectedly. "Three weeks in this God-
+forsaken place? I'll die, Brady."
+
+"You? What are you talking about?"
+
+"Why, you don't suppose I'm going back without you, do you?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+Anne Thorpe remained in Europe for a year, returning to New York shortly
+before the breaking out of the Great War. She went to the Ritz, where she
+took an apartment. A day or two after her arrival in the city, she sent
+for Wade.
+
+"Wade," she said, as the old valet stood smirking before her in the little
+sitting-room, "I have decided not to re-open the house. I shall never re-
+open it. I do not intend to live there."
+
+The man turned a sickly green. His voice shook a little. "Are--are you
+going to close it--for good,--madam?"
+
+"I sent for you this morning to inquire if you are willing to continue
+living there as caretaker until--"
+
+"You may depend on me, Mrs. Thorpe, to--" he broke in eagerly.
+
+"--until I make up my mind what to do with the property," she concluded.
+
+He hesitated, clearing his throat. "I beg pardon for mentioning it, ma'am,
+but the will said that you would have to live in the house and that you
+may not sell it or do anything--"
+
+"I know," she interrupted shortly. "I sha'n't sell the house, of course.
+On the other hand, I do not intend to live in it. I don't care what
+becomes of it, Wade."
+
+"It's worth a great deal of money," he ventured.
+
+She was not interested. "But so am I," she said curtly. "By the way, how
+have you fared, Wade? You do not look as though you have made the best of
+your own good fortune. Are you not a trifle thinner?"
+
+The man looked down at the rug. "I am quite well, thank you. A little
+older, of course,--that's all. I haven't had a sick day in years."
+
+"Why do you stay on in service? You have means of your own,--quite a handy
+fortune, I should say. I cannot understand your willingness, to coop
+yourself up in that big old house, when you might be out seeing something
+of life, enjoying your money and--you are a very strange person, Wade."
+
+He favoured her with his twisted smile. "We can't all be alike, madam," he
+said. "Besides, I couldn't see very much of life with my small pot of
+gold. I shall always stick to my habit, I suppose, of earning my daily
+bread."
+
+"I see. Then I may depend upon you to remain in charge of the house?
+Whenever you are ready to give it up, pray do not hesitate to come to me.
+I will release you, of course."
+
+"I may possibly live to be ninety," he said, encouragingly.
+
+She stared. "You mean--that you will stay on until you die?"
+
+"Seeing that you cannot legally sell the house,--and you will not live in
+it,--I hope to be of service to you to the end of my days, madam. Have you
+considered the possibility of some one setting up a claim to the property
+on account of your--er--violation of the terms of the will?"
+
+"I should be very happy if some one were to do so, Wade," she replied with
+a smile. "I should not oppose the claim. Unfortunately there is no one to
+take the step. There are no disgruntled relatives."
+
+"Ahem! Mr. Braden, of course, might--er--be regarded as a--"
+
+"Dr. Thorpe will not set up a claim, Wade. You need not be disturbed."
+
+"There is no one else, of course," said he, with a deep breath of relief.
+
+"No one. I can't even _give_ it away. I shall go on paying taxes on it all
+my life, I daresay. And repairs and--"
+
+"Repairs won't be necessary, ma'am, unless you have a complaining tenant.
+I shall manage to keep the place in good order."
+
+"Are your wages satisfactory, Wade?"
+
+"Quite, madam." Sometimes he remembered not to say "ma'am."
+
+"And your food, your own personal comforts, your--"
+
+"Don't worry about me, madam. I make out very well."
+
+"And you are all alone there? All alone in that dark, grim old house? Oh,
+how terribly lonely it must be. I--" she shivered slightly.
+
+"I have a scrub-woman in twice a month, and Murray comes to see me once in
+awhile. I read a great deal."
+
+"And your meals?"
+
+"I get my own breakfast, and go down to Sixth Avenue for my luncheons and
+dinners. There is an excellent little restaurant quite near, you
+see,--conducted by a very estimable Southern lady in reduced circumstances.
+Her husband is a Northerner, however, and she doesn't see a great deal of
+him. I understand he is a person of very uncertain habits. They say he
+gambles. Her daughter assists her with the business. She--but, I beg
+pardon; you would not be interested in them."
+
+"I am glad that you are contented, Wade. We will consider the matter
+settled, and you will go on as heretofore. You may always find me here, if
+you desire to communicate with me at any time."
+
+Wade looked around the room. Anne's maid had come in and was employed in
+restoring a quantity of flowers to the boxes in which they had been
+delivered. There were roses and violets and orchids in profusion.
+
+Mrs. Thorpe took note of his interest. "You will be interested to hear,
+Wade, that my sister-in-law is expecting a little baby very soon. I am
+taking the flowers up to her flat."
+
+"A baby," said Wade softly. "That will be fine, madam."
+
+After Wade's departure, Anne ordered a taxi, and, with the half dozen
+boxes of flowers piled up in front of her, set out for George's home. On
+the way up through the park she experienced a strange sense of exaltation,
+a curious sort of tribute to her own lack of selfishness in the matter of
+the flowers. This feeling of self-exaltation was so pleasing to her, so
+full of promise for further demands upon her newly discovered nature, that
+she found herself wondering why she had allowed herself to be cheated out
+of so much that was agreeable during all the years of her life! She was
+now sincerely in earnest in her desire to be kind and gentle and generous
+toward others. She convinced herself of that in more ways than one. In the
+first place, she enjoyed thinking first of the comforts of others, and
+secondly of herself. That in itself was most surprising to her. Up to a
+year or two ago she would have deprived herself of nothing unless there
+was some personal satisfaction to be had from the act, such as the
+consciousness that the object of her kindness envied her the power to
+give, or that she could pity herself for having been obliged to give
+without return. Now she found joy in doing the things she once
+abhorred,--the unnecessary things, as she had been pleased to describe
+them.
+
+She loved Lutie,--and that surprised her more than anything else. She did
+not know it, but she was absorbing strength of purpose, independence, and
+sincerity from this staunch little woman who was George's wife. She would
+have cried out against the charge that Lutie had become an Influence! It
+was all right for Lutie to have an influence on the character of George,
+but--the thought of anything nearer home than that never entered her head.
+
+As a peculiar--and not especially commendable--example of her present state
+of unselfishness, she stopped for luncheon with her pretty little sister-
+in-law, and either forgot or calmly ignored the fact that she had promised
+Percy Wintermill and his sister to lunch with them at Sherry's. And later
+on, when Percy complained over the telephone she apologised with perfect
+humility,--surprising him even more than she surprised herself. She did
+not, however, feel called upon to explain to him that she had transferred
+his orchids to Lutie's living-room. That was another proof of her
+consideration for others. She knew that Percy's feelings would have been
+hurt.
+
+Lutie was radiantly happy. Her baby was coming in a fortnight.
+
+"You shall have the very best doctor in New York," said Anne, caressing
+the fair, tousled head. Her own heart was full.
+
+"We're going to have Braden Thorpe," said Lutie.
+
+Anne started. "But he is not--What you want, Lutie, is a specialist. Braden
+is--"
+
+"He's good enough for me," said Lutie serenely. Possibly she was
+astonished by the sudden, impulsive kiss that Anne bestowed upon her, and
+the more fervent embrace that followed.
+
+That afternoon Anne received many callers. Her home-coming meant a great
+deal to the friends who had lost sight of her during the period of
+preparation that began, quite naturally, with her marriage to Templeton
+Thorpe, and was now to bear its results. She would take her place once
+more in the set to which she belonged as a Tresslyn.
+
+Alas, for the memory of old Templeton Thorpe, her one-time intimates in
+society were already speaking of her,--absently, of course,--as Anne
+Tresslyn. The newspapers might continue to allude to her as the beautiful
+Mrs. Thorpe, but that was as far as it would go. Polite society would not
+be deceived. It would not deny her the respectability of marriage, to be
+sure, but on the other hand, it wouldn't think of her as having been
+married to old Mr. Thorpe. It might occasionally give a thought or two to
+the money that had once been Mr. Thorpe's, and it might go so far as to
+pity Anne because she had been stupid or ill-advised in the matter of a
+much-discussed ante-nuptial arrangement, but nothing could alter the fact
+that she had never ceased being a Tresslyn, and that there was infinite
+justice in the restoration of at least one of the Tresslyns to a state of
+affluence. It remains to be seen whether Society's estimate of her was
+right or wrong.
+
+Her mother came in for half an hour, and admitted that the baby would be a
+good thing for poor George.
+
+"I am rather glad it is coming," she said. "I shall know what to do with
+that hateful money she forced me to take back."
+
+"What do you mean, mother?"
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn lifted her lorgnon. "Have you forgotten, my dear?"
+
+"Of course I haven't. But what _do_ you mean?"
+
+"It is perfectly simple, Anne. I mean that as soon as this baby comes I
+shall settle the whole of that thirty thousand dollars upon it, and have
+it off my mind forever. Heaven knows it has plagued me to--"
+
+"You--but, mother, can you afford to do anything so--"
+
+"My dear, it may interest you to know that your mother possesses a great
+deal of that abomination known as pride. I have not spent so much as a
+penny of Lutie Car--of my daughter-in-law's money. You look surprised. Have
+you been thinking so ill of me as that? Did you believe that I--"
+
+Anne threw her arms about her mother's neck, and kissed her rapturously.
+
+"I see you _did_ believe it of me," said Mrs. Tresslyn drily. Then she
+kissed her daughter in return. "I haven't been able to look my daughter-
+in-law in the face since she virtually threw all that money back into
+mine. I've been almost distracted trying to think of a way to force it
+back upon her, so that I might be at peace with myself. This baby will
+open the way. It will simplify everything. It shall be worth thirty
+thousand dollars in its own right the day it is born."
+
+Anne was beaming. "And on that same day, mother dear, I will replace the
+amount that you turn over to--"
+
+"You will do nothing of the kind," said Mrs. Tresslyn sharply. "I am not
+doing this thing because I am kind-hearted, affectionate, or even
+remorseful. I shall do it because it pleases me, and not for the sake of
+pleasing any one else. Now we'll drop the subject. I do hope, however,
+that if George doesn't take the trouble to telephone me within a
+reasonable time after his child comes into the world--say within a day or
+two--I hope you will do so."
+
+"Really, mother, you are a very wonderful person," said Anne, rather wide-
+eyed.
+
+"No more wonderful, my dear, than Lutie Carnahan, if you will pause for a
+moment to think of what _she_ did."
+
+"She is very proud, and very happy," said Anne dubiously. "She and George
+may refuse to accept this--"
+
+"My dear Anne," interrupted her mother calmly, "pray let me remind you
+that Lutie is no fool. And now, tell me something about your plans. Where
+are you going for the summer?"
+
+"That depends entirely on where my nephew wants to spend the heated term,"
+said Anne brightly. "I shall take him and Lutie into the country with me."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn winced. "It doesn't sound quite so terrible as grandson, at
+any rate," she remarked, considering the first sentence only.
+
+"I do hope it will be a boy," mused Anne.
+
+"I believe I could love her if she gave us a boy," said the other. "I am
+beginning to feel that we need more men in the family."
+
+One of the last to drop in during the afternoon to welcome Anne back to
+the fold was the imposing and more or less redoubtable Mrs. Wintermill,
+head of the exclusive family to which Percy belonged. Percy's father was
+still alive but he was a business man, and as such he met his family as he
+would any other liability: when necessary.
+
+Mrs. Wintermill's first remark after saying that she was glad to see Anne
+looking so well was obviously the result of a quick and searching glance
+around the room.
+
+"Isn't Percy here?" she inquired.
+
+Anne had just had an uncomfortable half minute on the telephone with
+Percy. "Not unless he is hiding behind that couch over there, Mrs.
+Wintermill," she said airily. "He is coming up later, I believe."
+
+"I was to meet him here," said Mrs. Wintermill, above flippancy. "Is it
+five o'clock?"
+
+"No," said Anne. Mrs. Wintermill smiled again. She was puzzled a little by
+the somewhat convulsive gurgle that burst from Anne's lips. "I beg your
+pardon. I just happened to think of something." She turned away to say
+good-bye to the last of her remaining visitors,--two middle-aged ladies who
+had not made her acquaintance until after her marriage to Templeton Thorpe
+and therefore were not by way of knowing Mrs. Wintermill without the aid
+of opera-glasses. "Do come and see me again."
+
+"Who are they?" demanded Mrs. Wintermill before the servant had time to
+close the door behind the departing ones. She did not go to the trouble of
+speaking in an undertone.
+
+"Old friends of Mr. Thorpe's," said Anne. "Washington Square people. More
+tea, Ludwig. How well you are looking, Mrs. Wintermill. So good of you to
+come."
+
+"We wanted to be among the first--if not the very first--to welcome you
+home, Jane. Percy said to me this morning before he left for the office:
+'Mother, you must run in and see Jane Tresslyn to-day.' Ahem! Dear me, I
+seem to have got into the habit of dropping things every time I move.
+Thanks, dear. Ahem! As I was saying, I said to Percy this morning: 'I must
+run in and see Jane Tresslyn to-day.' And Percy said that he would meet me
+here and go on to the--Do you remember the Fenns? The Rumsey Fenns?"
+
+"Oh, yes. I've been away only a year, you know, Mrs. Wintermill."
+
+"It seems ages. Well, the Fenns are having something or other for a French
+woman,--or a man, I'm not quite sure,--who is trying to introduce a new
+tuberculosis serum over here. I shouldn't be the least bit surprised to
+see it publicly injected into Mr. Fenn, who, I am told, has everything his
+wife wants him to have. My daughter was saying only a day or two ago that
+Rumsey Fenn,--we don't know them very well, of course,--naturally, we
+wouldn't, you know--er--what was I saying? Ah, yes; Percy declared that the
+city would be something like itself once more, now that you've come home,
+Jennie. I beg your pardon;--which is it that you prefer? I've quite
+forgotten. Jennie or Jane?"
+
+"It doesn't in the least matter, Mrs. Wintermill," said Anne amiably.
+"There isn't much choice."
+
+"How is your mother?"
+
+"Quite well, thank you. And how is Mr. Wintermill?"
+
+"As I was saying, Mrs. Fenn dances beautifully. Percy,--he's really quite
+silly about dancing,--Percy says she's the best he knows. I do not pretend
+to dance all of the new ones myself, but--Did you inquire about Mr.
+Wintermill? He's doing it, too, as they say in the song. By the way, I
+should have asked before: how is your mother? I haven't seen her in weeks.
+Good heavens!" The good lady actually turned pale. "It was your husband
+who died, wasn't it? Not your--but, of course, _not_. What a relief. You
+say she's well?"
+
+"You barely missed her. She was here this afternoon."
+
+"So sorry. It _is_ good to have you with us again, Kate. How pretty you
+are. Do you like the Ritz?"
+
+A bell-boy delivered a huge basket of roses at the door at this juncture.
+Mrs. Wintermill eyed them sharply as Ludwig paused for instructions. Anne
+languidly picked up the detached envelope and looked at the card it
+contained.
+
+"Put it on the piano, Ludwig," she said. "They are from Eddie Townshield,"
+she announced, kindly relieving her visitor's curiosity.
+
+"Really," said Mrs. Wintermill. She sent a very searching glance around
+the room once more. This time she was not looking for Percy, but for
+Percy's tribute. She was annoyed with Percy. What did he mean by not
+sending flowers to Anne Tresslyn? In her anger she got the name right.
+"Orchids are Percy's favourites, Anne. He never sends anything but
+orchids. He--"
+
+"He sent me some gorgeous orchids this morning," said Anne.
+
+Mrs. Wintermill looked again, even squinting her eyes. "I suppose they
+_aren't_ very hardy at this time of the year. I've noticed they perish--"
+
+"Oh, these were exceedingly robust," interrupted Anne. "They'll live for
+days." Her visitor gave it up, sinking back with a faint sigh. "I've had
+millions of roses and orchids and violets since I landed. Every one has
+been so nice."
+
+Mrs. Wintermill sat up a little straighter in her chair. "New York men are
+rather punctilious about such things," she ventured. It was an inquiry.
+
+"Captain Poindexter, Dickie Fowless, Herb. Vandervelt,--oh, I can't
+remember all of them. The room looked like Thorley's this morning."
+
+Mrs. Wintermill could not stand it any longer. "What have you done with
+them, my dear?"
+
+Anne enjoyed being veracious. "I took a whole truckload up to my sister-
+in-law. She's going to have a baby."
+
+Her visitor stiffened. "I was not aware that you had a sister-in-law. Mr.
+Thorpe was especially free from relatives."
+
+"Oh, this is George's wife. Dear little Lutie Carnahan, don't you know?
+She's adorable."
+
+"Oh!" oozed from the other's lips. "I--I think I do recall the fact that
+George was married while in college. It is very nice of you to share your
+flowers with her. I loathed them, however, when Percy and Elaine were
+coming. It must be after five, isn't it?"
+
+"Two minutes after," said Anne.
+
+"I thought so. I wonder what has become of--Oh, by the way, Jane, Percy was
+saying the other day that Eddie Townshield has really been thrown over by
+that silly little Egburt girl. He was frightfully gone on her, you know.
+You wouldn't know her. She came out after you went into retirement. That's
+rather good, isn't it? Retirement! I must tell that to Percy. He thinks I
+haven't a grain of humour, my dear. It bores him, I fancy, because he is
+so witty himself. And heaven knows he doesn't get it from his father. That
+reminds me, have you heard that Captain Poindexter is about to be
+dismissed from the army on account of that affair with Mrs. Coles last
+winter? The government is very strict about--Ah, perhaps that is Percy
+now."
+
+But it was not Percy,--only a boy with a telegram.
+
+"Will you pardon me?" said Anne, and tore open the envelope. "Why, it's
+from Percy."
+
+"From--dear me, what is it, Anne? Has anything happened--"
+
+"Just a word to say that he will be fifteen or twenty minutes late," said
+Anne drily.
+
+"He is the most thoughtful boy in--But as I was saying, Herbie Vandervelt's
+affair with Anita Coles was the talk of the town last winter. Every one
+says that he will not marry her even though Coles divorces her. How I hate
+that in men. They are not all that sort, thank God. I suppose the business
+in connection with the estate has been settled, hasn't it? As I recall it,
+the will was a very simple one, aside from that ridiculous provision that
+shocked every one so much. I think you made a great mistake in not
+contesting it, Annie. Percy says that it wouldn't have stood in any court.
+By the way, have you seen Braden Thorpe?" She eyed her hostess rather
+narrowly.
+
+"No," was the reply. "It hasn't been necessary, you know. Mr. Dodge
+attended to everything. My duties as executrix were trifling. My report,
+or whatever you call it, was ready months ago."
+
+"And all that money? I mean, the money that went to Braden. What of that?"
+
+"It did not go to Braden, Mrs. Wintermill," said Anne levelly. "It is in
+trust."
+
+Mrs. Wintermill smiled. "Oh, nothing will come of that," she said. "Percy
+says that you could bet your boots that Braden would have contested if
+things had been the other way round."
+
+"I'm sure I don't know," said Anne briefly.
+
+"I hear that he is hanging on in spite of what the world says about him,
+trying to get a practice. Percy sees him quite frequently. He's really
+sorry for him. When Percy likes a person nothing in the world can turn him
+against--why, he would lend him money as long as his own lasted. He--"
+
+"Has Braden borrowed money from Percy?" demanded Anne quickly.
+
+"I did not say that he had, my dear," said the other reprovingly. "I
+merely said that he would lend it to him in any amount if he asked for it.
+Of course, Braden would probably go to Simmy Dodge in case of--they are
+almost inseparable, you know. Simmy has been quite a brick, sticking to
+him like this. My dear,"--leaning a little closer and lowering her voice on
+Ludwig's account,--"do you know that the poor fellow didn't have a patient
+for nearly six months? People wouldn't go near him. I hear that he has
+been doing better of late. I think it was Percy who said that he had
+operated successfully on a man who had gall stones. Oh, yes, I quite
+forgot that Percy says he has twenty-five thousand dollars a year as wages
+for acting as trustee. I fancy he doesn't hesitate to use it to the best
+advantage. As long as he has that, I dare say he will not starve or go
+naked."
+
+Receiving no response from Anne, she took courage and playfully shook her
+finger at the young woman. "Wasn't there some ridiculous talk of an
+adolescent engagement a few years ago? How queer nature is! I can't
+imagine you even being interested in him. So soggy and emotionless, and
+you so full of life and verve and--Still they say he is completely wrapped
+up in his profession, such as it is. I've always said that a daughter of
+mine should never marry a doctor. As a matter of fact, a doctor never
+should marry. No woman should be subjected to the life that a doctor's
+wife has to lead. In the first place, if he is any good at all in his
+profession, he can't afford to give her any time or thought, and then
+there is always the danger one runs from women patients. You never could
+be quite sure that everything was all right, don't you know. Besides, I've
+always had a horror of the infectious diseases they may be carrying around
+in their--why, think of small-pox and diphtheria and scarlet fever! Those
+diseases--"
+
+"My dear Mrs. Wintermill," interrupted Anne, with a smile, "I am not
+thinking of marrying a doctor."
+
+"Of course you are not," said Mrs. Wintermill promptly. "I wasn't thinking
+of that. I--"
+
+"Besides, there is a lot of difference between a surgeon and a regular
+practitioner. Surgeons do not treat small-pox and that sort of thing. You
+couldn't object to a surgeon, could you?" She spoke very sweetly and
+without a trace of ridicule in her manner.
+
+"I have a horror of surgeons," said the other, catching at her purse as it
+once more started to slip from her capacious lap. She got it in time.
+"Blood on their hands every time they earn a fee. No, thank you. I am not
+a sanguinary person."
+
+All of which leads up to the belated announcement that Mrs. Wintermill was
+extremely desirous of having the beautiful and wealthy widow of Templeton
+Thorpe for a daughter-in-law.
+
+"I suppose you know that James,--but naturally you wouldn't know, having
+just landed, my dear Jane. You haven't seen Braden Thorpe, so it isn't
+likely that you could have heard. I fancy he isn't saying much about it,
+in any event. The world is too eager to rake up things against him in view
+of his extraordinary ideas on--"
+
+"You were speaking of James, but _what_ James, Mrs. Wintermill?"
+interrupted Anne, sensing.
+
+Mrs. Wintermill lowered her voice. "Inasmuch as you are rather closely
+related to Braden by marriage, you will be interested to know that he is
+to perform a very serious operation upon James Marraville." There was no
+mistaking the awe in her voice.
+
+"The banker?"
+
+"The great James Marraville," said Mrs. Wintermill, suddenly passing her
+handkerchief over her brow. "He is said to be in a hopeless condition,"
+she added, pronouncing the words slowly.
+
+"I--I had not heard of it, Mrs. Wintermill," murmured Anne, going cold to
+the very marrow.
+
+"Every one has given him up. It is terrible. A few days ago he sent for
+Braden Thorpe and--well, it was announced in the papers that there will be
+an operation to-morrow or the next day. Of course, he cannot survive it.
+That is admitted by every one. Mr. Wintermill went over to see him last
+night. He was really shocked to find Mr. Marraville quite cheerful
+and--contented. I fancy you know what that means."
+
+"And Braden is going to operate?" said Anne slowly.
+
+"No one else will undertake it, of course," said the other, something like
+a triumphant note in her voice.
+
+"What a wonderful thing it would be for Braden if he were to succeed,"
+cried Anne, battling against her own sickening conviction. "Think what it
+would mean if he were to save the life of a man so important as James
+Marraville,--one of the most talked-of men in the country. It would--"
+
+"But he will not save the man's life," said Mrs. Wintermill significantly.
+"I do not believe that Marraville himself expects that." She hesitated for
+an instant. "It is really dreadful that Braden should have achieved so
+much notoriety on account of--I _beg_ your pardon!"
+
+Anne had arisen and was standing over her visitor in an attitude at once
+menacing and theatric. The old lady blinked and caught her breath.
+
+"If you are trying to make me believe, Mrs. Wintermill, that Braden would
+consent to--But, why should I insult him by attempting to defend him when
+no defence is necessary? I know him well enough to say that he would not
+operate on James Marraville for all the money in the world unless he
+believed that there was a chance to pull him through." She spoke rapidly
+and rather too intensely for Mrs. Wintermill's peace of mind.
+
+"That is just what Percy says," stammered the older woman hastily. "He
+believes in Braden. He says it's all tommyrot about Marraville paying him
+to put him out of his misery. My dear, I don't believe there is a more
+loyal creature on earth than Percy Wintermill. He--"
+
+Percy was announced at that instant. He came quickly into the room and,
+failing utterly to see his mother, went up to Anne and inquired what the
+deuce had happened to prevent her coming to luncheon, and why she didn't
+have the grace to let him know, and what did she take him for, anyway.
+
+"Elaine and I stood around over there for an hour,--an hour, do you get
+that?--biting everything but food, and--"
+
+"I'm awfully sorry, Percy," said Anne calmly. "I wouldn't offend Elaine
+for the world. She's--"
+
+"Elaine? What about me? Elaine took it as a joke, confound her,--but I
+didn't. Now see here, Anne, old girl, you know I'm not in the habit of
+being--"
+
+"Here is your mother, Percy," interrupted Anne coldly.
+
+"Hello! You still waiting for me, mother? I say, what do you think Anne's
+been doing to your angel child? Forgetting that he's on earth, that's all.
+Now, where were you, Anne, and what's the racket? I'm not in the habit of
+being--"
+
+"I forgot all about it, Percy," confessed Anne deliberately. She was
+conscious of a sadly unfeminine longing to see just how Percy's nose
+_could_ look under certain conditions. "I couldn't say that to you over
+the phone, however,--could I?"
+
+"Anne's sister-in-law is expecting a baby," put in Mrs. Wintermill
+fatuously. This would never do! Percy ought to know better than to say
+such things to Anne. What on earth had got into him? Except for the
+foregoing effort, however, she was quite speechless.
+
+"What's that got to do with it?" demanded Percy, chucking his gloves
+toward the piano. He faced Anne once more, prepared to insist on full
+satisfaction. The look in her eyes, however, caused him to refrain from
+pursuing his tactics. He smiled in a sickly fashion and said, after a
+moment devoted to reconstruction: "But, never mind, Anne; I was only
+having a little fun bullying you. That's a man's privilege, don't you
+know. We'll try it again to-morrow, if you say so."
+
+"I have an engagement," said Anne briefly. The next instant she smiled.
+"Next week perhaps, if you will allow me the privilege of forgetting
+again."
+
+"Oh, I say!" said Percy, blinking his eyes. How was he to take that sort
+of talk? He didn't know. And for fear that he might say the wrong thing if
+he attempted to respond to her humour, he turned to his mother and
+remarked: "Don't wait for me, mother. Run along, do. I'm going to stop for
+a chat with Anne."
+
+As Mrs. Wintermill went out she met Simmy Dodge in the hall.
+
+"Would you mind, Simmy dear, coming down to the automobile with me?" she
+said quickly. "I--I think I feel a bit faint."
+
+"I'll drive home with you, if you like," said the good Simmy,
+solicitously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+She saw by the evening papers that the operation on Marraville was to take
+place the next day. That night she slept but little. When her maid roused
+her from the slumber that came long after the sun was up, she immediately
+called for the morning papers. In her heart she was hoping, almost praying
+that they would report the death of James Marraville during the night.
+Then, as she read with burning eyes, she found herself hoping against hope
+that the old man would, at the last moment, refuse to undergo the
+operation, or that some member of his family would protest. But even as
+she hoped, she knew that there would be no objection on the part of either
+Marraville or his children. He was an old man, he was fatally ill, he was
+through with life. There would be no obstacle placed in the way of Death.
+His time had come and there was no one to ask for a respite. He would die
+under the knife and every one would be convinced that it was for the best.
+As she sat up in bed, staring before her with bleak, unseeing eyes, she
+had an inward vision of this rich man's family counting in advance the
+profits of the day's business! Braden Thorpe was to be the only victim. He
+was to be the one to suffer. Two big tears grew in her eyes and rolled
+down her cheeks. She had never loved Braden Thorpe as she loved him now.
+
+She knew that he was moved by honest intentions. That he confidently
+believed he could preserve this man's life she would not for an instant
+doubt. But why had he agreed to undertake the feat that other men had
+declared was useless, the work that other men had said to be absolutely
+unnecessary? A faint ray of comfort rested on the possibility that these
+great surgeons, appreciating, the wide-spread interest that naturally
+would attend the fate of so great a man as James Marraville, were loth to
+face certain failure, but even that comfort was destroyed by an
+intelligence that argued for these surgeons instead of against them. They
+had said that the case was hopeless. They were honest men. They had the
+courage to say: "This man must die. It is God's work, not ours," and had
+turned away. They were big men; they would not operate just for the sake
+of operating. And when they admitted that it was useless they were
+convincing the world that they were honourable men. Therefore,--she almost
+ground her pretty teeth at the thought of it,--old Marraville and his
+family had turned to Braden Thorpe as one without honour or conscience!
+
+She had never been entirely free from the notion that her husband's death
+was the result of premeditated action on the part of his grandson, but in
+that instance there was more than professional zeal in the heart of the
+surgeon: there was love and pity and gentleness in the heart of Braden
+Thorpe when he obeyed the command of the dying man. If he were to come to
+her now, or at any time, with the confession that he had deliberately
+ended the suffering of the man he loved, she would have put her hand in
+his and looked him in the eye while she spoke her words of commendation.
+Templeton Thorpe had the right to appeal to him in his hour of
+hopelessness, but this other man--this mighty Marraville!--what right had he
+to demand the sacrifice? She had witnessed the suffering of Templeton
+Thorpe, she had prayed for death to relieve him; he had called upon her to
+be merciful, and she had denied him. She wondered if James Marraville had
+turned to those nearest and dearest to him with the cry for mercy. She
+wondered if the little pellets had been left at his bedside. She knew the
+extent of his agony, and yet she had no pity for him. He was not asking
+for mercy at the hands of a man who loved him and who could not deny him.
+He was demanding something for which he was willing to pay, not with love
+and gratitude, but with money. Would he look up into Braden's eyes and
+say, "God bless you," when the end was at hand?
+
+Moved by a sudden irresistible impulse she flung reserve aside and decided
+to make an appeal to Braden. She would go to him and plead with him to
+spare himself instead of this rich old man. She would go down on her knees
+to him, she would humble and humiliate herself, she would cry out her
+unwanted love to him....
+
+At nine o'clock she was at his office. He was gone for the day, the little
+placard on the door informed her. Gone for the day! In her desperation she
+called Simmy Dodge on the telephone. He would tell her what to do. But
+Simmy's man told her that his master had just gone away in the motor with
+Dr. Thorpe,--for a long ride into the country. Scarcely knowing what she
+did she hurried on to Lutie's apartment, far uptown.
+
+"What on earth is the matter, Anne?" cried the gay little wife as her
+sister-in-law stalked into the tiny drawing-room and threw herself
+dejectedly upon a couch. Lutie was properly alarmed and sympathetic.
+
+It was what Anne needed. She unburdened herself.
+
+"But," said Lutie cheerfully, "supposing he should save the old codger's
+life, what then? Why do you look at the black side of the thing? While
+there's life, there's hope. You don't imagine for an instant that Dr.
+Thorpe is going into this big job with an idea of losing his patient, do
+you?"
+
+Anne's eyes brightened. A wave of relief surged into her heart.
+
+"Oh, Lutie, Lutie, do you really believe that Braden thinks he can save
+him?"
+
+Lutie's eyes opened very wide. "What in heaven's name are you saying? You
+don't suppose he's thinking of anything else, do you?" A queer, sinking
+sensation assailed her suddenly. She remembered. She knew what was in
+Anne's mind. "Oh, I see! You--" she checked the words in time. An instant
+later her ready tongue saved the situation. "You don't seem to understand
+what a golden opportunity this is for Braden. Here is a case that every
+newspaper in the country is talking about. It's the chance of a lifetime.
+He'll do his best, let me tell you that. If Mr. Marraville dies, it won't
+be Braden's fault. You see, he's just beginning to build up a practice.
+He's had a few unimportant cases and he's--well, he's just beginning to
+realise that pluck and perseverance will do 'most anything for a fellow.
+Now, here comes James Marraville, willing to take a chance with
+him--because it's the only chance left, I'll admit,--and you can bet your
+last dollar, Anne, that Braden isn't going to make a philanthropic job of
+it."
+
+"But if he fails, Lutie,--if he fails don't you see what the papers will
+say? They will crush him to--"
+
+"Why should they? Bigger men than he have failed, haven't they?"
+
+"But it will ruin Braden forever. It will be the end of all his hopes, all
+his ambitions. _This_ will convict him as no other--"
+
+"Now, don't get excited, dear," cautioned the other gently. "You're
+working yourself into an awful state. I think I understand, Anne. You poor
+old girl!"
+
+"I want you to know, Lutie. I want some one to know what he is to me, in
+spite of everything."
+
+Then Lutie sat down beside her and, after deliberately pulling the pins
+from her visitor's hat, tossed it aimlessly in the direction of a near-by
+chair,--failing to hit it by several feet,--and drew the smooth, troubled
+head down upon her shoulder.
+
+"Stay and have luncheon with George and me," she said, after a half hour
+of confidences. "It will do you good. I'll not breathe a word of what
+you've said to me,--not even to old George. He's getting so nervous
+nowadays that he comes home to lunch and telephones three or four times a
+day. It's an awful strain on him. He doesn't eat a thing, poor dear. I'm
+really quite worried about him. Take a little snooze here on the sofa,
+Anne. You must be worn out. I'll cover you up--"
+
+The door-bell rang.
+
+Lutie started and her jaw fell. "Good gracious! That's--that's Dr. Thorpe
+now. He is the only one who comes up without being announced from
+downstairs. Oh, dear! What shall I--Don't you think you'd better see him,
+Anne?"
+
+Anne had arisen. A warm flush had come into her pale cheeks. She was
+breathing quickly and her eyes were bright.
+
+"I will see him, Lutie. Would you mind leaving us alone together for a
+while? I must make sure of one thing. Then I'll be satisfied."
+
+Lutie regarded her keenly for a moment. "Just remember that you can't
+afford to make a fool of yourself," she said curtly, and went to the door.
+A most extraordinary thought entered Anne's mind, a distinct thought among
+many that were confused: Lutie ought to have a parlour-maid, and she would
+make it her business to see that she had one at once. Poor, plucky little
+thing! And then the door was opened and Thorpe walked into the room.
+
+"Well, how are we this morning?" he inquired cheerily, clasping Lutie's
+hand. "Fine, I see. I happened to be passing with Simmy and thought I'd
+run in and see--" His gaze fell upon the tall, motionless figure on the
+opposite side of the room, and the words died on his lips.
+
+"It's Anne," said Lutie fatuously.
+
+For a moment there was not a sound or a movement in the little room. The
+man was staring over Lutie's head at the slim, elegant figure in the
+modish spring gown,--it was something smart and trig, he knew, and it was
+not black. Then he advanced with his hand extended.
+
+"I am glad to see you back, Anne. I heard you had returned." Their hands
+met in a brief clasp. His face was grave, and a queer pallor had taken the
+place of the warm glow of an instant before.
+
+"Three days ago," she said, and that was all. Her throat was tight and
+dry. He had not taken his eyes from hers. She felt them burning into her
+own, and somehow it hurt,--she knew not why.
+
+"Well, it's good to see you," he mumbled, finding no other words. He
+pulled himself together with an effort. He had not expected to see her
+here. He had dreamed of her during the night just past. "Simmy is waiting
+down below in the car. I just dropped in for a moment. Can't keep him
+waiting, Lutie, so I'll--"
+
+"Won't you spare me a few moments, Braden?" said Anne steadily. "There is
+something that I must say to you. To-morrow will not do. It must be now."
+
+He looked concerned. "Has anything serious--"
+
+"Nothing--yet," she broke in, anticipating his question.
+
+"Sit down, Braden," said Lutie cheerfully. "I'll make myself scarce. I see
+you are down for a big job to-day. Good boy! I told you they'd come your
+way if you waited long enough. It is a big job, isn't it?"
+
+"Ra-_ther_," said he, smiling. "I daresay it will make or break me."
+
+"I should think you'd be frightfully nervous."
+
+"Well, I'm not, strange to say. On the contrary, I'm as fit as a fiddle."
+
+"When do you--perform this operation?" Anne asked, as Lutie left the room.
+
+"This afternoon. He has a superstition about it. Doesn't want it done
+until after banking hours. Queerest idea I've ever known." He spoke in
+quick, jerky sentences.
+
+She held her breath for an instant, and then cried out imploringly: "I
+don't want you to do it, Braden,--I don't want you to do it. If not for my
+sake, then for your own you must refuse to go on with it."
+
+He looked straight into her troubled, frightened eyes. "I suppose you are
+like the rest of them: you think I'm going to kill him, eh?" His voice was
+low and bitter.
+
+She winced, half closing her eyes as if a blow had been aimed at them.
+"Oh, don't say that! How horrible it sounds when you--_speak it_."
+
+He could see that she was trembling, and suddenly experienced an odd
+feeling of contentment. He had seen it in her eyes once more: the love
+that had never faltered although dragged in the dirt, discredited and
+betrayed. She still loved him, and he was glad to know it. He could gloat
+over it.
+
+"I am not afraid to speak it, as you say," he said curtly. Then he pitied
+her. "I'm sorry, Anne. I shouldn't have said it. I think I understand what
+you mean. It's good of you to care. But I am going ahead with it, just the
+same." His jaw was set in the old, resolute way.
+
+"Do you know what they will say if you--fail?" Her voice was husky.
+
+"Yes, I know. I also know why they finally came to me. They haven't any
+hope. They believe that I may--well, at least I will not say _that_, Anne.
+Down in their hearts they all hope,--but it isn't the kind of hope that
+usually precedes an operation. No one has dared to suggest to me that I
+put him out of his misery, but that's what they're expecting,--all of them.
+But they are going to be disappointed. I do not owe anything to James
+Marraville. He is nothing to me. I do not love him as I loved my
+grandfather."
+
+He spoke slowly, with grave deliberation; there was not the slightest
+doubt that he intended her to accept this veiled explanation of his
+present attitude as a confession that he had taken his grandfather's life.
+
+She was silent. She understood. He went on, more hurriedly:
+
+"I can only say to you, Anne, that my grandfather might have gone on
+living for a few weeks or even months. Well, there is no reason why
+Marraville shouldn't go on living for awhile. Do you see what I mean? He
+shall not die to-day if I can help it. He will hang on for weeks, not
+permanently relieved but at least comforted in the belief that his case
+isn't hopeless. I shall do my best." He smiled sardonically. "The
+operation will be called a success, and he will merely go on dying instead
+of having it all over with."
+
+She closed her eyes. "Oh, how cruel it is," she murmured. "How cruel it
+is, after all."
+
+"He will curse me for failing to do my duty," said he grimly. "The world
+will probably say that I am a benefactor to the human race, after all, and
+I will be called a great man because I allow him a few more weeks of
+agony. I may fail, of course. He may not survive the day. But no one will
+be justified in saying that I did not do my best to tide him over for a
+few weeks or months. And what a travesty it will be if I do succeed! Every
+one except James Marraville will praise me to the skies. My job will be
+done, but he will have it all to do over again,--this business of dying."
+
+She held out her hand. Her eyes had filled with tears.
+
+"God be with you, Braden." He took her hand in his, and for a moment
+looked into the swimming eyes.
+
+"You understand _everything_ now, don't you, Anne?" he inquired. His face
+was very white and serious. He released her hand.
+
+"Yes," she answered; "I understand everything. I am glad that you have
+told me. It--it makes no difference; I want you to understand that,
+Braden."
+
+It seemed to her that he would never speak. He was regarding her
+thoughtfully, evidently weighing his next words with great care.
+
+"Three doctors know," he said at last. "They must never find out that you
+know."
+
+Her eyes flashed through the tears. "I am not afraid to have the world
+know," she said quickly.
+
+He shook his head, smiling sadly.
+
+"But I am," he said. It was a long time before she grasped the full
+significance of this surprising admission. When, hours afterward, she came
+to realise all that it meant she knew that he was not thinking of himself
+when he said that he was afraid. He was thinking of her; he had thought of
+her from the first. Now she could only look puzzled and incredulous. It
+was not like him to be afraid of consequences.
+
+"If you are afraid," she demanded quickly, "why do you invite peril this
+afternoon? The chances are against you, Braden. Give it up. Tell them you
+cannot--"
+
+"This afternoon?" he broke in, rather violently. "Good God, Anne, I'm not
+afraid of what is going to happen this afternoon. Marraville isn't going
+to die to-day, poor wretch. I can't afford to let him die." He almost
+snarled the words. "I have told these people that if I fail to take him
+through this business to-day, I'll accept no pay. That is understood. The
+newspapers will be so informed in case of failure. You are shocked. Well,
+it isn't as bad as it sounds. I am in deadly earnest in this matter. It is
+my one great chance. It means more to me to save James Marraville's life
+than it means to him. I'm sorry for him, but he has to go on living, just
+the same. Thank you for being interested. Don't worry about it. I--"
+
+"The evening papers will tell me how it turns out," she said dully. "I
+shall pray for you, Braden."
+
+He turned on her savagely. "Don't do that!" he almost shouted. "I don't
+want your support. I--" Other words surged to his lips but he held them
+back. She drew back as if he had struck her a blow in the face. "I--I beg
+your pardon," he muttered, and then strode across the room to thump
+violently on the door to Lutie's bed-chamber. "Come out! I'm going. Can't
+keep the nation waiting, you know."
+
+Two minutes later Anne and Lutie were alone. The former, inwardly shaken
+despite an outward appearance of composure, declined to remain for
+luncheon, as she had done the day before. Her interest in Lutie and her
+affairs was lost in the contemplation of a reviving sense of self-
+gratification, long dormant but never quite unconscious. She had recovered
+almost instantly from the shock produced by his violent command, and where
+dismay had been there was now a warm, grateful rush of exultation. She
+suspected the meaning of that sudden, fierce lapse into rudeness. Her
+heart throbbed painfully, but with joyous relief. It was not rudeness on
+his part; on the contrary he was paying tribute to her. He was dismayed by
+the feelings he found himself unable to conquer. The outburst was the
+result of a swift realisation that she still had the power to move him in
+spite of all his mighty resolves, in spite even of the contempt he had for
+her.
+
+She walked to the Ritz. It was a long distance from George's home, but she
+went about it gladly in preference to the hurried, pent-up journey down by
+taxi or stage. She wanted to be free and unhampered. She wanted to think,
+to analyse, to speculate on what would happen next. For the present she
+was content to glory in the fact that he had unwittingly betrayed himself.
+
+She was near the Plaza before the one great, insurmountable obstacle arose
+in her mind to confound her joyous calculations. What would it all come
+to, after all? She could never be more to him than she was at this
+instant, for between them lay the truth about the death of Templeton
+Thorpe,--and Templeton Thorpe was her husband. Her exaltation was short-
+lived. The joy went out of her soul. The future looked to be even more
+barren than before the kindly hope sprang up to wave its golden prospects
+before her deluded eyes.
+
+He would never look at the situation from her point of view. Even though
+he found himself powerless to resist the love that was regaining strength
+enough to batter down the wall of prejudice her marriage had created in
+his mind, there would still stand between them his conviction that it
+would be an act of vileness to claim or even covet the wife of the man
+whose life he had taken, not in anger or reprisal but in honest devotion.
+
+Anne was not callous or unfeeling in her readiness to disregard what he
+might be expected to call the ethics of the case. She very sensibly looked
+at the question as one in which the conscience had no part, for the simple
+reason that there was no guilty motive to harass it. If his conscience was
+clear,--and it most certainly was,--there could be no sound reason for him
+to deny himself the right to reclaim that which belonged to him by all the
+laws of nature. On her part there was not the slightest feeling of
+revulsion. She did not look upon his act as a barrier. Her own act in
+betraying him was far more of a barrier than this simple thing that he had
+done. She had believed it to be insurmountable. She had long ago accepted
+as final the belief that he despised her and would go on doing so to the
+end. And now, in the last hour, there had been a revelation. He still
+loved her. His scorn, his contempt, his disgust were not equal to the task
+of subduing the emotion that lived in spite of all of them. But this other
+thing! This thing that he would call _decency_!
+
+All through the afternoon his savage, discordant cry: "Don't do that!"
+rang in her ears. She thrilled and crumpled in turn. The blood ran hot
+once more in her veins. As she looked back over the past year it seemed to
+her that her blood had been cold and sluggish. But now it was warm again
+and tingling. Even the desolating thought that her discovery would yield
+no profit failed to check the riotous, grateful warmth that raced through
+her body from crown to toe. Despair had its innings, but there was always
+compensation in the return of a joy that would not acknowledge itself
+beaten. Joy enough to feel that he could not help loving her! Joy to feel
+that he was hungry too! No matter what happened now she would know that
+she had not lost all of him.
+
+After a while she found herself actually enjoying the prospect of certain
+failure on Braden's part in the case of Marraville. Reviled and excoriated
+beyond endurance, he would take refuge in the haven that she alone could
+open to him. He would come to her and she would go with him, freely and
+gladly, into new places where he could start all over again and--But even
+as she conjured up this sacrificial picture, this false plaisance, her
+cheeks grew hot with shame. The real good that was in Anne Tresslyn leaped
+into revolt. She hated herself for the thought; she could have cursed
+herself. What manner of love was this that could think of self alone? What
+of him? What of the man she loved?
+
+She denied herself to callers. At half-past five she called up the
+hospital and inquired how Mr. Marraville was getting along. She had a
+horrid feeling that the voice at the other end would say that he was dead.
+She found a vast relief in the polite but customary "doing very nicely"
+reply that came languidly over the wires. Anne was not by way of knowing
+that the telephone operators in the hospitals would say very cheerfully
+that "Mr. Washington is doing very nicely," if one were to call up to
+inquire into the condition of the Father of his Country! An "extra" at six
+o'clock announced that the operation had taken place and that Mr.
+Marraville had survived it, although it was too soon to,--and so on and so
+forth.
+
+Then she called Simmy Dodge up on the telephone. Simmy would know if
+anybody knew. And with her customary cleverness and foresightedness she
+called him up at the hospital.
+
+After a long delay Simmy's cheery voice came singing--or rather it was
+barking--into her ear. This had been the greatest day in the life of Simeon
+Dodge. From early morn he had gone about in a state of optimistic unrest.
+He was more excited than he had ever been in his life before,--and yet he
+was beatifically serene. His brow was unclouded, his eyes sparkled and his
+voice rang with all the confidence of extreme felicity. There was no
+question in Simmy's mind as to the outcome. Braden would pull the old
+gentleman through, sure as anything. Absolutely sure, that's what Simmy
+was, and he told other people so.
+
+"Fine as silk!" he shouted back in answer to Anne's low, suppressed
+inquiry. "Never anything like it, Anne, old girl. One of the young doctors
+told me--"
+
+"Has he come out of the ether, Simmy?"
+
+"What say?"
+
+"Is he conscious? Has the ether--"
+
+"I can't say as to that," said Simmy cheerfully. "He's been back in his
+room since five o'clock. That's--let's see what time is it now? Six-
+fourteen. Nearly an hour and a quarter. They all say--"
+
+"Have you see Braden?"
+
+"Sure. He's fagged out, poor chap. Strain something awful. Good Lord, I
+wonder what it must have been to him when it came so precious near to
+putting me out of business. I thought I was dying at half-past four. I
+never expected to live to see Mr. Marraville out of the operating-room.
+Had to take something for medicinal purposes. I knew all along that Braden
+could do the job like a--"
+
+"Where is he now?"
+
+"Last I heard of him he was back in his room with the house doctor and--"
+
+"I mean Braden."
+
+"What are you sore about, Anne?" complained Simmy. Her voice had sounded
+rather querulous to him. "I thought you meant the patient. Brady is up
+there, too, I guess. Sh! I can't say anything more. A lot of reporters,
+are coming this way."
+
+The morning papers announced that James Marraville had passed a
+comfortable night and that not only Dr. Thorpe but other physicians who
+were attending him expressed the confident opinion that if he continued to
+gain throughout the day and if nothing unforeseen occurred there was no
+reason why he should not recover. He had rallied from the anæsthetic, his
+heart was good, and there was no temperature. Members of the family were
+extremely hopeful. His two sons-in-law--who were spokesmen for the other
+members of the family--were united in the opinion that Dr. Thorpe had
+performed a miracle. Dr. Thorpe, himself, declined to be interviewed. He
+referred the newspaper men to the other surgeons and physicians who were
+interested in the case.
+
+There was an underlying note of dismay, rather deftly obscured, in all of
+the newspaper accounts, however. Not one of them appeared to have
+recovered from the surprise that had thrown all of their plans out of
+order. They had counted on James Marraville's death and had prepared
+themselves accordingly. There were leading editorials in every office, and
+columns of obituary matter; and there were far from vague allusions to the
+young doctor who performed the operation. And here was the man alive! It
+was really more shocking than if he had died, as he was expected to do. It
+is no wonder, therefore, that the first accounts were almost entirely
+without mention of the doctor who had upset all of their calculations. He
+hadn't lived up to the requirements. The worst of it all was that Mr.
+Marraville's failure to expire on the operating table forever deprived
+them of the privilege of saying, invidiously, that young Doctor Thorpe had
+been called in as the last resort. It would take them a day or two, no
+doubt, to adjust themselves to the new situation, and then, if the
+millionaire was still showing signs of surviving, they would burst forth
+into praise of the marvellous young surgeon who had startled the entire
+world by his performance!
+
+In the meantime, there was still a chance that Mr. Marraville might die,
+so it was better to hesitate and be on the safe side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+James Marraville called Thorpe a coward and a poltroon. This was a week
+after the operation. They were alone in the room. For days his wondering,
+questioning eyes had sought those of the man on whom he had depended for
+everlasting peace, and always there had been a look of reproach in them.
+Not in words, but still plainly, he was asking why he still lived, why
+this man had not done the thing that was expected of him. Every one about
+him was talking of the marvellous, incredible result of the operation;
+every one was looking cheerful and saying that he would "soon be as good
+as new." And all the while he was lying there, weak and beaten, wondering
+why they lied to him, and why Man as well as God had been so cruel to him.
+He was not deceived. He knew that he had it all to live over again. He
+knew what they meant when they said that it had been very successful! And
+so, one day, in all the bitterness of his soul, he cursed the man who had
+given him a few more months to live.
+
+But there were other men and women who did not want to die. They wanted
+very dearly to live, and they had been afraid to risk an operation. Now
+that the world was tumbling over itself to proclaim the greatness of the
+surgeon who had saved James Marraville's life, the faint-hearted of all
+degrees flowed in a stream up to his doors and implored him to name his
+own price.... So goes the world....
+
+The other doctors knew, and Braden knew, and most thoroughly of all James
+Marraville knew, that while the operation was a wonderful feat in surgery,
+it might just as well have remained undone. The young doctor simply had
+done all that was in the power of man to do for a fellow creature. He had
+cheated Death out of an easy victory, but Death would come again and sit
+down beside James Marraville to wait for another day.
+
+Down near Washington Square, Wade blinked his eyes and shook his head, and
+always re-read the reports from the sick-room. He was puzzled and
+sometimes there was a faraway look in his eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lutie's baby came. He came long after midnight, and if he had been given
+the power at birth to take intelligent notice of things, he would have
+been vastly astonished to hear that his grandmother had been sitting up in
+an adjoining room with her son and daughter, anxiously, even fearfully,
+awaiting his advent into the world. And he would have been further
+astonished and perhaps distressed if any one had told him that his granny
+cried a little over him, and refused to go to her own home until she was
+quite sure that his little mother was all right. Moreover, he would have
+been gravely impressed by the presence of the celebrated Dr. Thorpe, and
+the extraordinary agony of that great big tall man who cowered and
+shivered and who wouldn't even look at him because he had eyes and thought
+for no one but the little mother. Older and wiser persons would have
+revealed considerable interest in the certificate of deposit that his
+grandmother laid on the bed beside him. He was quite a rich little boy
+without knowing it. Thirty thousand dollars is not to be sneezed at, and
+it would be highly unjust to say that it was a sneeze that sent his
+grandmother, his aunt and his father into hysterics of alarm.
+
+They called him Carnahan Tresslyn. He represented a distinct phase in the
+regeneration of a proud and haughty family.
+
+A few weeks later Anne took a house up among the hills of Westchester
+County, and moved Lutie and the baby out into the country. It did not
+occur to her to think that she was making a personal sacrifice in going up
+there to spend the hot months.
+
+Percy Wintermill informed her one day that he was going to ask her to
+marry him when the proper time arrived. It would be the third time, he
+reminded her. He was being forehanded, that was all,--declaring himself in
+advance of all others and thereby securing, as he put it, the privilege of
+priority. She was not very much moved by the preparation of Percy. In
+fact, she treated the matter with considerable impatience.
+
+"Really, you know, Percy," she said, "I'm getting rather fed up with
+refusing you. I'm sure I've done it more than three times. Why don't you
+ask some girl who will have you?"
+
+"That's just the point," said he frankly. "If I asked some girl who would
+have me, she'd take me, and then where would you come in? I don't want any
+one but you, Anne, and--"
+
+"Sorry, Perce, but it's no use," said she briefly.
+
+"Well, I haven't asked you yet," he reminded her. After some minutes,
+spent by him in rumination and by her in wondering why she didn't send him
+away, he inquired, quite casually: "Anybody else in mind, old girl?" She
+merely stared at him. "Hope it isn't Brady Thorpe," he went on. "He's one
+of my best friends. I'd hate to think that I'd have to--"
+
+"Go home, Percy," she said. "I'm going out,--and I'm late already. Thanks
+for the orchids. Don't bother to send any more. It's just a waste of
+money, old fellow. I sha'n't marry you. I sha'n't marry any one except the
+man with whom I fall desperately, horribly in love,--and I'm not going to
+fall in love with you, so run away."
+
+"You weren't in love with old man Thorpe, were you?" he demanded, flushing
+angrily.
+
+"I haven't the right to be offended by that beastly remark, Percy," she
+said quietly; "and yet I don't think you ought to have said it to me."
+
+"It was meant only to remind you that it won't be necessary for you to
+fall desperately, horribly in love with me," he explained, and was
+suddenly conscious of being very uncomfortable for the first time in his
+life. He did not like the expression in her eyes.
+
+Her shoulders drooped a little. "It isn't very comforting to feel that any
+one of my would-be husbands could be satisfied to get along without being
+loved by me. No doubt I shall be asked by others besides you, Percy. I
+hope you do not voice the sentiments of all the rest of them."
+
+"I'm sorry I said it," he said, and seemed a little bewildered immediately
+afterwards. He really couldn't make himself out. He went away a few
+minutes later, vaguely convinced that perhaps it wouldn't be worth while
+to ask her, after all. This was a new, strange Anne, and it would hurt to
+be refused by her. He had never thought of it in just that way--before.
+
+"So that is the price they put upon me, is it?" Anne said to herself. She
+was regarding herself rather humbly in the mirror as she pinned on her
+hat. "I am still expected to marry without loving the man who takes me. It
+isn't to be exacted of me. Don't they credit me with a capacity for
+loving? What do they think I am? What do they think my blood is made of,
+and the flesh on my bones? Do they think that because I am beautiful I can
+love no one but myself? Don't they think I'm human? How can any one look
+at me without feeling that I'd rather love than be loved? The poor fools!
+Any woman can be loved. What we all want more than anything else is to
+_love_. And I love--I _do_ love! And I _am_ beloved. And all the rest of my
+life I shall love; I shall gloat over the fact that I love; I shall love,
+love, _love_ with all that there is in me, all that there is in my body
+and my soul. The poor fools."
+
+And all that was in her body and her soul was prepared to give itself to
+the man who loved her. She wanted him to have her for his own. She pitied
+him even more than she pitied herself.
+
+Anne had no illusions concerning herself. Mawkish sentimentality had no
+place in her character. She was straightforward and above board with
+herself, and she would not cheapen herself in her own eyes. Another woman
+might have gone down on her knees, whimpering a cry for forgiveness, but
+not Anne Tresslyn. She would ask him to forgive her but she would not lie
+to herself by prostrating her body at his feet. There was firm, noble
+stuff in Anne Tresslyn. It was born in her to know that the woman who goes
+down on her knees before her man never quite rises to her full height
+again. She will always be in the position of wondering whether she stayed
+on her knees long enough to please him. The thought had never entered
+Anne's head to look anywhere but straight into Braden's eyes. She was not
+afraid to have him see that she was honest! He could see that she had no
+lies to tell him. And she was as sorry for him as she was for herself....
+
+She saw him often during the days of Lutie's convalescence, but never
+alone. There was considerable comfort for her in the thought that he made
+a distinct point of not being alone with her. One day she said to him:
+
+"I have my car outside, Braden. Shall I run you over to St. Luke's?"
+
+It was a test. She knew that he was going to the hospital, and intended to
+take the elevated down to 110th Street. His smile puzzled her.
+
+"No, thank you." Then, after a moment, he added: "If people saw me driving
+about in a prosperous looking touring-car they'd be justified in thinking
+that my fees are exorbitant, and I should lose more than I'd gain."
+
+She flushed slightly. "By the same argument they might think you were
+picking up germs in the elevated or the subway."
+
+"I shun the subway," he said.
+
+Anne looked straight into his eyes and said--to herself: "I love you." He
+must have sensed the unspoken words, for his eyes hardened.
+
+"Moreover, Anne, I shouldn't think it would be necessary for me to remind
+you that--" he hesitated, for he suddenly realised that he was about to
+hurt her, and it was not what he wanted to do--"that there are other and
+better reasons why--"
+
+He stopped there, and never completed the sentence. She was still looking
+into his eyes and was still saying to herself: "I love you." It was as if
+a gentle current of electricity played upon every nerve in his body. He
+quivered under the touch of something sweet and mysterious. Exaltation was
+his response to the magnetic wave that carried her unspoken words into his
+heart. She had not uttered a sound and yet he heard the words. How many
+times had she cried those delicious words into his ear while he held her
+close in his arms? How many times had she looked at him like this while
+actually speaking the words aloud in answer to his appeal?
+
+They were standing but a few feet apart. He could take a step forward and
+she would be in his arms,--that glorious, adorable, ineffably feminine
+creation,--in his arms,--in his arms,--
+
+It was she who broke the spell. Her voice sounded far off--and exhausted,
+as if it came from her lips without breath behind it.
+
+"It will always be just the same, Braden," she said, and he knew that it
+was an acknowledgment of his unfinished reminder. She was promising him
+something.
+
+He took a firm grip on himself. "I'm glad that you see things as they are,
+Anne. Now, I must be off. Thanks just the same for--"
+
+"Oh, don't mention it," she said carelessly. "I'm glad that you see things
+too as they are, Braden." She held out her hand. There was no restraint in
+her manner. "I'm sorry, Braden. Things might have been so different. I'm
+sorry."
+
+"Good God!" he burst out. "If you had only been--" He broke off, resolutely
+compressing his lips. His jaw was set again in the strong old way that she
+knew so well.
+
+She nodded her head slowly. "If I had only been some one else instead of
+myself," she said, "it would not have happened."
+
+He turned toward the door, stopped short and then turned to face her.
+There was a strange expression in his grey eyes, not unlike diffidence.
+
+"Percy told me last night that you have refused to marry him. I'm glad
+that you did that, Anne. I want you to know that I am glad, that I
+felt--oh, I cannot tell you how I felt when he told me."
+
+She eyed him closely for a moment. "You thought that I--I might have
+accepted him. Is that it?"
+
+"I--I hadn't thought of it at all," he said, confusedly.
+
+"Well," she said, and a slight pallor began to reveal itself in her face,
+"I tried marrying for money once, Braden. The next time I shall try
+marrying for love."
+
+He stared. "You don't mince words, do you?" he said, frowning.
+
+"No," she said. "Percy will tell you that, I fancy," she added, and
+smiled. "He can't understand my not marrying him. He will be worth fifteen
+or twenty millions, you know." The irony in her voice was directed
+inwardly, not outwardly. "Perhaps it would be safer for him to wait before
+taking too much for granted. You see, I haven't actually refused him. I
+merely refused to give him an option. He--"
+
+"Oh, Anne, don't jest about--" he began, and then as her eyes fell suddenly
+under his gaze and her lip trembled ever so slightly,--"By Jove, I--I
+sha'n't misjudge you in that way again. Good-bye." This time he held out
+his hand to her.
+
+She shook her head. "I've changed my mind. I'm never going to say good-bye
+to you again."
+
+"Never say good-bye? Why, that's--"
+
+"Why should I say good-bye to you when you are always with me?" she broke
+in. Noting the expression in his eyes she went on ruthlessly,
+breathlessly. "Do you think I ought to be ashamed to say such a thing to
+you? Well, I'm not. It doesn't hurt my pride to say it. Not in the least."
+She paused for an instant and then went on boldly. "I fancy I am more
+honest with myself than you are with yourself, Braden."
+
+He looked steadily into her eyes. "You are wrong there," he said quietly.
+Then bluntly: "By God, Anne, if it were not for the one terrible thing
+that lies between us, I could--I could--"
+
+"Go on," she said, her heart standing still. "You can at least _say_ it to
+me. I don't ask for anything more."
+
+"But why say it?" he cried out bitterly. "Will it help matters in the
+least for me to confess that I am weak and--"
+
+She laughed aloud, unable to resist the nervous excitement that thrilled
+her. "Weak? You weak? Look back and see if you can find a single thing to
+prove that you are weak. You needn't be afraid. You are strong enough to
+keep me in my place. You cannot put yourself in jeopardy by completing
+what you started out to say. 'If it were not for the one terrible thing
+that lies between us, I could--I could--' Well, what could you do? Overlook
+my treachery? Forget that I did an even more terrible thing than you did?
+Forgive me and take me back and trust me all over again? Is that what
+you would have said to me?"
+
+"That is what I might have said," he admitted, almost savagely, "if I had
+not come to my senses in time."
+
+Her eyes softened. The love-light glowed in their depths. "I am not as I
+was two years ago, Braden," she said. "I'd like you to know that, at
+least."
+
+"I dare say that is quite true," he said harshly. "You got what you went
+after and now that you've got it you can very comfortably repent."
+
+She winced. "I am not repenting."
+
+"Would you be willing to give up all that you gained out of that
+transaction and go back to where my grandfather found you?" he demanded?
+
+"Do you expect me to lie to you?" she asked with startling candour.
+
+"No. I know you will not lie."
+
+"Would it please you to have me say that I would willingly give up all
+that I gained?"
+
+"I see what you mean. It would be a lie."
+
+"Would it please you to have me give it all up?" she insisted.
+
+He was thoughtful. "No," he said candidly. "You earned it, you are
+entitled to it. It is filthy, dirty money, but you earned it. You do not
+deny that it was your price. That's the long and the short of it."
+
+"Will you let me confess something to you? Something that will make it all
+seem more despicable than before?"
+
+"Good Lord, I don't see how that can be possible!"
+
+"I did not expect to lose you, Braden, when I married Mr. Thorpe. I
+counted on you in the end. I was so sure of myself,--and of you. Wait! Let
+me finish. If I had dreamed that I was to lose you, I should not have
+married Mr. Thorpe. That makes it worse, doesn't it?" There was a note of
+appeal in her voice.
+
+"Yes, yes,--it makes it worse," he groaned.
+
+"I was young and--over-confident," she murmured. "I looked ahead to the day
+when I should be free again and you would be added to the--well, the gains.
+Now you know the whole truth about me. I was counting on you, looking
+forward to you, even as I stood beside him and took the vows. You were
+always uppermost in my calculations. I never left you out of them. Even to
+this day, to this very moment, I continue to count on you. I shall never
+be able to put the hope out of my mind. I have tried it and failed. You
+may despise me if you will, but nothing can kill this mean little thing
+that lurks in here. I don't know what you will call it, Braden, but I call
+it loyalty to you."
+
+"Loyalty! My God!" he cried out hoarsely.
+
+"Yes, loyalty," she cried. "Mean as I am, mean as I have been, I have
+never wavered an instant in my love for you. Oh, I'm not pleading for
+anything. I'm not begging. I don't ask for anything,--not even your good
+opinion. I am only telling you the truth. Mr. Thorpe knew it all. He knew
+that I loved you, and he knew that I counted on having you after he was
+out of the way. And here is something else that you never knew, or
+suspected. He believed that my love for you, my eagerness, my longing to
+be free to call you back again, would be the means of releasing him from
+the thing that was killing him. He counted on me to--I will put it as
+gently as I can--to free myself. I believe in my soul that he married me
+with that awful idea in his mind."
+
+For a long time they were silent. Braden was staring at her, horror in his
+eyes. She remained standing before him, motionless. Lutie's nurse passed
+through the little hall outside, but they did not see or hear her. A door
+closed softly; the faint crying of the baby went unheard.
+
+"You are wrong there," he said at last, thickly. "I happen to know what
+his motives were, Anne."
+
+"Oh, I know," she said wearily. "To prove to you how utterly worthless I
+am,--or was. Well, it may have been that. I hope it was. I would like to
+think it of him instead of the other thing. I would like to think of him
+as sacrificing himself for your sake, instead of planning to sacrifice me
+for his sake. It is a terrible thought, Braden. He begged me to give him
+those tablets, time and again. I--I couldn't have done that, not even with
+you as the prize." She shuddered.
+
+A queer, indescribable chill ran through his veins. "Do you--have you ever
+thought that he may have held you out as a prize--for me?"
+
+"You mean?" She went very white. "God above us, no! If I thought _that_,
+Braden, then there would be something lying between us, something that
+even such as I could not overcome."
+
+"Just the same," he went on grimly, "he went to his death with a word of
+praise on his lips for you, Anne. He told me you were deserving of
+something better than the fate he had provided for you. He was sorry.
+It--it may have been that he was pleading your cause, that--"
+
+"I would like to think that of him," she cried eagerly, "even though his
+praise fell upon deaf ears."
+
+She turned away from him and sank wearily into a chair. For a minute or
+two he stood there regarding her in silence. He was sorry for her. It had
+taken a good deal of courage to humble herself in his eyes, as she had
+done by her frank avowal.
+
+"Is it any satisfaction to your pride, Anne," he said slowly, after
+deliberate thought, "to know that I love you and always will love you, in
+spite of everything?"
+
+Her answer was a long time in coming, and it surprised him when it did
+come.
+
+"If I had any pride left I should hate you for humbling it in that manner,
+Braden," she said, little red spots appearing on her cheeks. "I am not
+asking for your pity."
+
+"I did not mean to--" he cried impulsively. For an instant he threw all
+restraint aside. The craving mastered him. He sprang forward.
+
+She closed her eyes quickly, and held her breath.
+
+He was almost at her side when he stopped short. Then she heard the rush
+of his feet and, the next instant, the banging of the hall door. He was
+gone! She opened her eyes slowly, and stared dully, hazily before her. For
+a long time she sat as one unconscious. The shock of realisation left her
+without the strength or the desire to move. Comprehension was slow in
+coming to her in the shock of disappointment. She could not realise that
+she was not in his arms. He had leaped forward to clasp her, she had felt
+his outstretched arms encircling her,--it was hard to believe that she sat
+there alone and that the ecstasy was not real.
+
+Tears filled her eyes. She did not attempt to wipe them away. She could
+only stare, unblinking, at the closed door. Sobs were in her throat; she
+was first cold, then hot as with a fever.
+
+Slowly her breath began to come again, and with it the sobs. Her body
+relaxed, she closed her eyes again and let her head fall back against the
+chair, and for many minutes she remained motionless, still with the
+weakness of one who has passed through a great crisis.... Long
+afterward,--she did not know how long it was,--she laid her arms upon the
+window-sill at her side and buried her face on them. The sobs died away
+and the tears ceased flowing. Then she raised her eyes and stared down
+into the hot, crowded street far below. She looked upon sordid, cheap,
+ugly things down there, and she had been looking at paradise such a little
+while ago.
+
+Suddenly she sprang to her feet. Her tall, glorious figure was extended to
+its full height, and her face was transformed with the light of
+exaltation.
+
+A key grated noisily in the hall door. The next instant it swung violently
+open and her brother George strode in upon her,--big, clear-eyed, happy-
+faced and eager.
+
+"Hello!" he cried, stopping short. "I popped in early to-day. Matter of
+great importance to talk over with my heir. Wait a second, Anne. I'll be
+back--I say, what's the matter? You look posi-_tive_-ly as if you were on
+the point of bursting into grand opera. Going to sing?"
+
+"I'm singing all over, Georgie,--all over, inside and out," she cried
+joyously.
+
+"Gee whiz!" he gasped. "Has the baby begun to talk?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+She did not meet him again at Lutie's. Purposely, and with a cunning
+somewhat foreign to her sex, she took good care that he should not be
+there when she made her daily visits. She made it an object to telephone
+every day, ostensibly to inquire about Lutie's condition, and she never
+failed to ask what the doctor had said. In that way she knew that he had
+made his visit and had left the apartment. She would then drive up into
+Harlem and sit happily with her sister-in-law and the baby, whom she
+adored with a fervour that surprised not only herself but the mother,
+whose ideas concerning Anne were undergoing a rapid and enduring
+reformation.
+
+She was shocked and not a little disillusioned one day, however, when
+Lutie, now able to sit up and chatter to her heart's content, remarked,
+with a puzzled frown on her pretty brow:
+
+"Dr. Braden must be terribly rushed with work nowadays, Anne. For the last
+week he has been coming here at the most unearthly hour in the morning,
+and dashing away like a shot just as soon as he can. Good gracious, we're
+hardly awake when he gets here. Never later than eight o'clock."
+
+Anne's temple came down in a heap. He wasn't playing the game at all as
+she had expected. He was avoiding _her_. She was dismayed for an instant,
+and then laughed outright quite frankly at her own disenchantment.
+
+Lutie looked at her with deep affection in her eyes. "You ought to have a
+little baby of your own, Anne," she said.
+
+"It's much nicer having yours," said Anne. "He's such a fat one."
+
+Two weeks later they were all up in the country, and George was saying
+twice a day at least that Anne was the surprise and comfort of his old
+age. She was as gay as a lark. She sang,--but not grand opera selections.
+Her days were devoted to the cheerful occupation of teaching young
+Carnahan how to smile and how to count his toes.
+
+But in the dark hours of the night she was not so serene. Then was her
+time for reflection, for wonder, for speculation. Was life to be always
+like this? Were her days to be merry and confident, and her nights as full
+of loneliness and doubt? Was her craving never to be satisfied? Sometimes
+when George and Lutie went off to bed and left her sitting alone on the
+dark, screened-in veranda, looking down from the hills across the sombre
+Hudson, she almost cried aloud in her desolation. Of what profit was love
+to her? Was she always to go on being alone with the love that consumed
+her?
+
+The hot, dry summer wore away. She steadfastly refused to go to the cool
+seashore, she declined the countless invitations that came to her, and she
+went but seldom into the city. Her mother was at Newport. They had had one
+brief, significant encounter just before the elder woman went off to the
+seashore. No doubt her mother considered herself entitled to a fair share
+of "the spoils," but she would make no further advances. She had failed
+earlier in the game; she would not humble herself again. And so, one hot
+day in August, just before going to the country, Anne went up to her old
+home, determined to have it out with her mother.
+
+"Why are you staying in town through all of this heat, mother dear?" she
+asked. Her mother was looking tired and listless. She was showing her age,
+and that was the one thing that Anne could not look upon with complacency.
+
+"I can't afford to go junketing about this year," said her mother, simply.
+"This awful war has upset--"
+
+"The war hasn't had time to upset anything over here, mother. It's only
+been going on a couple of weeks. You ought to go away, dearest, for a good
+long snooze in the country. You'll be as young as a débutante by the time
+the season sets in."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn smiled aridly. "Am I beginning to show my age so much as all
+this, Anne?" she lamented. "I'm just a little over fifty. That isn't old
+in these days, my dear."
+
+"You look worried, not old," said her daughter, sympathetically. "Is it
+money?"
+
+"It's always money," admitted Mrs. Tresslyn. "I may as well make up my
+mind to retrench, to live a little more simply. You would think that I
+should be really quite well-to-do nowadays, having successfully gotten rid
+of my principal items of expense. But I will be quite frank with you,
+Anne. I am still trying to pay off obligations incurred before I lost my
+excellent son and daughter. You were luxuries, both of you, my dear."
+
+Anne was shocked. "Do you mean to say that you are still paying off--still
+paying up for _us_? Good heavens, mamma! Why, we couldn't have got you
+into debt to that--"
+
+"Don't jump to conclusions, my dear," her mother interrupted. "The debts
+were not all due to you and George. I had a few of my own. What I mean to
+say is that, combining all of them, they form quite a handsome amount."
+
+"Tell me," said Anne determinedly, "tell me just how much of it should be
+charged up to George and me."
+
+"I haven't the remotest idea. You see, I was above keeping books. What are
+you trying to get at? A way to square up with me? Well, my dear, you can't
+do that, you know. You don't owe me anything. Whatever I spent on you, I
+spent cheerfully, gladly, and without an idea of ever receiving a penny in
+the shape of recompense. That's the way with a mother, Anne. No matter
+what she may do for her children, no matter how much she may sacrifice for
+them, she does it without a single thought for herself. That is the best
+part of being a mother. A wife may demand returns from her husband, but a
+mother never thinks of asking anything of her children. I am sure that
+even worse mothers than I will tell you the same. We never ask for
+anything in return but a little selfish pleasure in knowing that we have
+borne children that are invariably better than the children that any other
+mother may have brought into the world. No, you owe me nothing, Anne. Put
+it out of your mind."
+
+Anne listened in amazement. "But if you are hard-up, mother dear, and on
+account of the money you were obliged to spend on us--because we were both
+spoiled and selfish--why, it is only right and just that your children, if
+they can afford to do so, should be allowed to turn the tables on you. It
+shouldn't be so one-sided, this little selfish pleasure that you mention.
+I am rich. I have a great deal more than I need. I have nearly a hundred
+thousand a year. You--"
+
+"Has any one warned you not to talk too freely about it in these days of
+income tax collectors?" broke in her mother, with a faint smile.
+
+"Pooh! Simmy attends to that for me. I don't understand a thing about it.
+Now, see here, mother, I insist that it is my right,--not my duty, but my
+right--to help you out of the hole. You would do it for me. You've done it
+for George, time and again. How much do you need?"
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn regarded her daughter thoughtfully. "Back of all this, I
+suppose, is the thought that it was I who made a rich girl of you. You
+feel that it is only right that you should share the spoils with your
+partner, not with your mother."
+
+"Once and for all, mother, let me remind you that I do not blame you for
+making a rich woman of me. I did not have to do it, you know. I am not the
+sort that can be driven or coerced. I made my own calculations and I took
+my own chances. You were my support but not my _commander_. The super-
+virtuous girls you read about in books are always blaming their mothers
+for such marriages as mine, and so do the comic papers. It's all bosh.
+Youth abhors old age. It loves itself too well. But we needn't discuss
+responsibilities. The point is this: I have more money than I know what to
+do with, so I want to help you out. It isn't because I think it is my
+duty, or that I owe it to you, but because I love you, mother. If you had
+forced me into marrying Mr. Thorpe, I should hate you now. But I don't,--I
+love you dearly. I want you to let me love you. You are so hard to get
+close to,--so hard to--"
+
+"My dear, my dear," cried her mother, coming up to her and laying her
+hands on the tall girl's shoulders, "you have paid me in full now. What
+you have just said pays off all the debts. I was afraid that my children
+hated me."
+
+"You poor old dear!" cried Anne, her eyes shining. "If you will only let
+me show you how much I can love you. We are pretty much alike, mother, you
+and I. We--"
+
+"No!" cried out the other fiercely. "I do not want you to say that. I do
+not want you to be like me. Never say that to me again. I want you to be
+happy, and you will never be happy if you are like me."
+
+"Piffle!" said Anne, and kissed her mother soundly. And she knew then, as
+she had always known, that her mother was not and never could be a happy
+woman. Even in her affection for her own children she was the spirit of
+selfishness. She loved them for what they meant to her and not for
+themselves. She was consistent. She knew herself better than any one else
+knew her.
+
+"Now, tell me how much you need," went on Anne, eagerly. "I've hated to
+broach the subject to you. It didn't seem right that I should. But I don't
+care now. I want to do all that I can."
+
+"I will not offend you, or insult you, Anne, by saying that you are a good
+girl,--a better one than I thought you would ever be. You can't help me,
+however. Don't worry about me. I shall get on, thank you."
+
+"Just the same, I insist on paying your bills, and setting you straight
+once more for another fling. And you are going to Newport this week. Come,
+now, mother dear, let's get it over with. Tell me about _everything_. You
+may hop into debt again just as soon as you like, but I'll feel a good
+deal better if I know that it isn't on my account. It isn't right that you
+should still have George and me hanging about your neck like millstones.
+Come! I insist. Let's figure it all up."
+
+An hour afterward, she said to her mother: "I'll make out one check to you
+covering everything, mother. It will look better if you pay them yourself.
+Thirty-seven thousand four hundred and twelve dollars. That's everything,
+is it,--you're sure?"
+
+"Everything," said Mrs. Tresslyn, settling back in her chair. "I will not
+attempt to thank you, Anne. You see, I didn't thank Lutie when she threw
+her money in my face, for somehow I knew that I'd give it all back to her
+again. Well, you may have to wait longer than she did, my dear, but this
+will all come back to you. I sha'n't live forever, you know."
+
+Anne kissed her. "You are a wonder, mother dear. You wouldn't come off of
+your high-horse for anything, would you? By Jove, that's what I like most
+in you. You never knuckle."
+
+"My dear, you are picking up a lot of expressions from Lutie."
+
+The early evenings at Anne's place in the country were spent solely in
+discussions of the great war. There was no other topic. The whole of the
+civilised world was talking of the stupendous conflict that had burst upon
+it like a crash out of a clear sky. George came home loaded down with the
+latest extras and all of the regular editions of the afternoon papers.
+
+"By gemini," he was in the habit of saying, "it's a lucky thing for those
+Germans that Lutie got me to reenlist with her a year ago. I'd be on my
+way over there by this time, looking for real work. Gee, Anne, that's one
+thing I could do as well as anybody. I'm big enough to stop a lot of
+bullets. We'll never see another scrap like this. It's just my luck to be
+happily married when it bursts out, too."
+
+"I am sure you would have gone," said Lutie serenely. "I'm glad I captured
+you in time. It saves the Germans an awful lot of work."
+
+The smashing of Belgium, the dash of the great German army toward Paris,
+the threatened disaster to the gay capital, the sickening conviction that
+nothing could check the tide of guns and men,--all these things bore down
+upon them with a weight that seemed unbearable. And then came the battle
+of the Marne! Von Kluck's name was on the lips of every man, woman and
+child in the United States of America. Would they crush him? Was Paris
+safe? What was the matter with England? And then, the personal element
+came into the situation for Anne and her kind: the names of the officers
+who had fallen, snuffed out in Belgium and France. Nearly every day
+brought out the name of some one she had known, a few of them quite well.
+There were the gallant young Belgians who had come over for the horse-
+shows, and the polo-players she had known in England, and the gay young
+noblemen,--their names brought the war nearer home and sickened her.
+
+As time went on the horrors of the great conflict were deprived, through
+incessant repetition, of the force to shock a world now accustomed to the
+daily slaughter of thousands. Humanity had got used to war. War was no
+longer a novelty. People read of great battles in which unprecedented
+numbers of men were slain, and wondered how much of truth was in the
+reports. War no longer horrified the distant on-looker. The sufferings of
+the Belgians were of greater interest to the people of America than the
+sufferings of the poor devils in the trenches or on the battle lines. A
+vast wave of sympathy was sweeping the land and purses were touched as
+never before. War was on parade. The world turned out en masse to see the
+spectacle. The heart of every good American was touched by what he saw,
+and the hand of every man was held out to stricken Belgium, nor was any
+hand empty. Belgium presented the grewsome spectacle, and the world paid
+well for the view it was having.
+
+It was late in November when Anne and the others came down to the city,
+and by that time the full strength of the movement to help the sufferers
+had been reached. People were fighting for the Belgians, but with their
+hearts instead of their hands. The stupendous wave of sympathy was at its
+height. It rolled across the land and then across the sea. People were
+swept along by its mighty rush. Anne Thorpe was caught up in the maelstrom
+of human energy.
+
+Something fine in her nature, however, caused Anne to shrink from public
+benefactions. She realised that a world that was charitable to the
+Belgians was not so apt to be charitable toward her. While she did not
+contribute anonymously to the fund, she let it be distinctly understood
+that her name was not to be published in any of the lists of donors,
+except in a single instance when she gave a thousand-dollars. That much,
+at least, would be expected of her and she took some comfort in the belief
+that the world would not charge her with self-exploitation on the money
+she had received from Templeton Thorpe. Other gifts and contributions were
+never mentioned in the press by the committees in charge. She gave
+liberally, not only to the sufferers on the other side of the Atlantic but
+to the poor of New York, and she steadfastly declined to serve on any of
+the relief committees.
+
+Never until now had she appreciated how thin-skinned she was. It is not to
+be inferred that she shut herself up and affected a life of seclusion. As
+a matter of fact, she went out a great deal, but invariably among friends
+and to small, intimate affairs.
+
+Not once in the months that followed the scene in Lutie's sitting-room did
+she encounter Braden Thorpe. She heard of him frequently. He was very
+busy. He went nowhere except where duty called. There was not a moment in
+her days, however, when her thoughts were not for him. Her eyes were
+always searching the throngs on Fifth Avenue in quest of his figure; in
+restaurants she looked eagerly over the crowded tables in the hope that
+she might see actually the face that was always before her, night and day.
+Be it said to her credit, she resolutely abstained from carrying her quest
+into quarters where she might be certain of seeing him, of meeting him, of
+receiving recognition from him. She avoided the neighbourhood in which his
+offices were located, she shunned the streets which he would most
+certainly traverse. While she longed for him, craved him with all the
+hunger of a starved soul, she was content to wait. He loved her. She
+thrived on the joy of knowing this to be true. He might never come to her,
+but she knew that it would never be possible for her to go to him unless
+he called her to him.
+
+Then, one day in early January, she crumpled up under the shock of seeing
+his name in the headlines of her morning newspaper.
+
+He was going to the front!
+
+For a moment she was blind. The page resolved itself into a thick mass of
+black. She was in bed when the paper was brought to her with her coffee.
+She had been lying there sweetly thinking of him. Up to the instant her
+eyes fell upon the desolating headline she had been warm and snug and
+tingling with life just aroused. And then she was as cold as ice,
+stupefied. It was a long time before she was able to convince herself that
+the type was really telling her something that she would have to believe.
+He was going to the war!
+
+Thorpe was one of a half-dozen American surgeons who were going over on
+the steamer sailing that day to give their services to the French. The
+newspaper spoke of him in glowing terms. His name stood out above all the
+others, for he was the one most notably in the public eye at the moment.
+The others, just as brave and self-sacrificing as he, were briefly
+mentioned and that was all. He alone was in the headlines, he alone was
+discussed. No one was to be allowed to forget that he was the clever young
+surgeon who had saved the great Marraville. The account dwelt upon the
+grave personal sacrifice he was making in leaving New York just as the
+world was beginning to recognise his great genius and ability. Prosperity
+was knocking at his door, fame was holding out its hand to him, and yet he
+was casting aside all thought of self-aggrandisement, all personal
+ambition in order to go forth and serve humanity in fields where his name
+would never be mentioned except in a cry for help from strong men who had
+known no fear.
+
+Sailing that day! Anne finally grasped the meaning of the words. She would
+not see him again. He would go away without a word to her, without giving
+her the chance to say good-bye, despite her silly statement that she would
+never utter the words again where he was concerned.
+
+Slowly the warm glow returned to her blood. Her brain cleared, and she was
+able to think, to grasp at the probable significance of his action in
+deserting New York and his coveted opportunities. Something whispered to
+her that he was going away because of his own sufferings and not those of
+the poor wretches at the front. Her heart swelled with pity. There was no
+triumph in the thought that he was running away because of his love for
+her. She needed no such proof as this to convince her that his heart was
+more loyal to her than his mind would have it be. She cried a little ...
+and then got up and called for a messenger boy.
+
+This brief message went down to the ship:
+
+"God be with you. I still do not say good-bye, just God be with you
+always, as I shall be. Anne."
+
+She did not leave the hotel until long after the ship had sailed. He did
+not telephone. There were a dozen calls on the wire that morning, but she
+had her maid take the messages. There was always the fear that he might
+try to reach her while some one of her idle friends was engaged in making
+a protracted visit with her over the wire. About one o'clock Simmy Dodge
+called up to ask if he could run in and have luncheon with her.
+
+"I've got a message for you," he said.
+
+Her heart began to beat so violently that she was afraid he would hear it
+through the receiver at his ear. She could not trust herself to speak for
+a moment. Evidently he thought she was preparing to put him off with some
+polite excuse. Simmy was, as ever, considerate. He made haste to spare her
+the necessity for fibbing. "I can drop in late this afternoon--"
+
+"No," she cried out, "come now, Simmy. I shall expect you. Where are you?"
+
+He coughed in some embarrassment. "I'm--well, you see, I was going past so
+I thought I'd stop in and--What? Yes, I'm downstairs."
+
+She joined him in the palm room a few minutes later, and they went in to
+luncheon. Her colour was high. Simmy thought he had never seen her when
+she looked more beautiful. But he thought that with each succeeding
+glimpse of her.
+
+"'Pon my word, Anne," he said, staring at her across the table, "you
+fairly dazzle me. Forgive me for saying so. I couldn't help it. Perfect
+ass sometimes, you see."
+
+"I forgive you. I like it. What message did Braden send to me?"
+
+He had not expected her to be so frank, so direct. "I don't know. I wish I
+did. The beggar wrote it and sealed it up in this beastly little
+envelope." He handed her the square white envelope with the ship's emblem
+in the corner.
+
+Before looking at the written address, she put her next question to him. A
+good deal depended on his answer. "Do you know when he wrote this note,
+Simmy?"
+
+"Just before they pushed me down the gang-plank," he said. A light broke
+in upon him. "Did you send him a message?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I don't know whether it is the right thing to say, but I can tell
+you this: he wrote this note before reading your letter or telegram or
+whatever it was. He had a score of things like that and he didn't open one
+of 'em until she'd cast off."
+
+She smiled. "Thank you, Simmy. You have said the right thing,--as you
+always do." One glance at the superscription was enough. It was in his
+handwriting. For the first time she saw it in his hand: "Anne Tresslyn
+Thorpe." A queer little shiver ran through her, never to be explained.
+
+Simmy watched her curiously as she slipped the missive, unopened, into her
+gold mesh bag. "Don't mind me," he said. "Read it."
+
+"Not now, Simmy," she said simply. And all through luncheon she thrilled
+with the consciousness that she had something of Braden there with her,
+near her, waiting for her. His own hand had touched this bit of paper; it
+was a part of him. It was so long since she had seen that well-known,
+beloved handwriting,--strong like the man, and sure; she found herself
+counting the ages that had passed since his last love missive had come to
+her.
+
+Simmy was rattling on, rather dolefully, about Braden's plans. He was
+likely to be over there for a long time,--just as long as he was needed or
+able to endure the strain of hard, incessant work in the field hospitals.
+
+"I wanted to go," the little man was saying, and that brought her back to
+earth. "The worst way, Anne. But what could I do? Drive an automobile,
+yes, but what's that? Brady wouldn't hear to it. He said it was nonsense,
+me talking of going over there and getting in people's way. Of course, I'd
+probably faint the first time I saw a mutilated dead body, and that
+_would_ irritate the army. They'd have to stop everything while they gave
+me smelling salts. I suppose I'd get used to seeing 'em dead all over the
+place, just as everybody does,--even the worst of cowards. I'm not a
+coward, Anne. I drive my racing-car at ninety miles, I play polo, I go up
+in Scotty's aeroplane whenever I get a chance, I can refuse to take a
+drink when I think I've had enough, and if that doesn't prove that I've
+got courage I'd like to know what it does prove. But I'm not a fighting
+man. Nobody would ever be afraid of me. There isn't a German on earth who
+would run if he saw me charging toward him. He'd just wait to see what the
+dickens I was up to. Something would tell him that I wouldn't have the
+heart to shoot him, no matter how necessary it might be for me to do so.
+Still I wanted to go. That's what amazes me. I can't understand it."
+
+"I can understand it, you poor old simpleton," cried Anne. "You wanted to
+go because you are _not_ afraid."
+
+"I wish I could think so," said he, really perplexed. "Brady is different.
+He'd be a soldier as is a soldier. He's going over to save men's lives,
+however, and that's something I wouldn't be capable of doing. If I went
+they'd expect me to kill 'em, and that's what I'd hate. Good Lord, Anne, I
+couldn't shoot down a poor German boy that hadn't done a thing to me--or to
+my country, for that matter. If they'd only let me go as a spy, or even a
+messenger boy, I'd jump at the chance. But they'd want me to kill
+people,--and I couldn't do it, that's all."
+
+"Is Braden well? Does he look fit, Simmy? You know there will be great
+hardships, vile weather, exposure--"
+
+"He's thin and--well, I'll be honest with you, he doesn't look as fit as
+might be."
+
+She paled. "Has he been ill?"
+
+"Not in body, but--he's off his feed, Anne. Maybe you know the reason why."
+He looked at her narrowly.
+
+"I have not seen him in months," she said evasively.
+
+"I guess that's the answer," he said, pulling at his little moustache.
+"I'm sorry, Anne. It's too bad--for both of you. Lordy, I never dreamed I
+could be so unselfish. I'm mad in love with you myself and--oh, well!
+That's an old tale, so we'll cut it short. I don't know what I'm going to
+do without Brady. I've got the blues so bad that--why, I cried like a nasty
+little baby down there at the--everybody lookin' at me pityingly and saying
+to themselves 'what a terrible thing grief is when it hits a man like
+that,' and thinkin' of course that I'd lost a whole family in Belgium or
+somewhere--oh, Lordy, what a blithering--"
+
+"Hush!" whispered Anne, her own eyes glistening. "You are an angel, Simmy.
+You--"
+
+"Let's talk sense," he broke in abruptly. "Braden left his business in my
+hands, and his pleasures in the hands of Dr. Cole. He says it's a pleasure
+to heal people, so that's why I put it in that way. I've got his will down
+in our safety vault, and his instructions about that silly foundation--"
+
+"You--you think he may not come back?" she said, gripping her hands under
+the edge of the table.
+
+"You never can tell. Taking precautions, that's all, as any wise man would
+do. Oh, I'm sorry, Anne! I should have known better. Lordy, you're as
+white as--Sure, he'll come back! He isn't going to be in the least danger.
+Not the least. Nobody bothers the doctors, you know. They can go anywhere.
+They wear plug hats and all that sort of thing, and all armies respect a
+plug hat. A plug hat is a _silk_ hat, you know,--the safest hat in the
+world when you're on the firing line. Everybody tries to hit the hat and
+not the occupant. It's a standing army joke. I was reading in the paper
+the other day about a fellow going clear from one end of the line to the
+other and having six hundred and some odd plug hats shot off his head
+without so much as getting a hair singed. Wait! I can tell what you're
+going to ask, and I can't, on such short notice, answer the question. I
+can only say that I don't know where he got the hats. Ah, good! You're
+laughing again, and, by Jove, it becomes you to blush once in a while,
+too. Tell me, old lady,"--he leaned forward and spoke very seriously,--"does
+it mean a great deal to you?"
+
+She nodded her head slowly. "Yes, Simmy, it means everything."
+
+He drew a long breath. "That's just what I thought. One ordinary dose of
+commonsense split up between the two of you wouldn't be a bad thing for
+the case."
+
+"You dear old thing!" cried Anne impulsively.
+
+"How are Lutie and my god-son?" he inquired, with a fine air of
+solicitude.
+
+Half an hour later, Anne read the brief note that Braden had sent to her.
+She read it over and over again, and without the exultation she had
+anticipated. Her heart was too full for exultation.
+
+"Dear Anne," it began, "I am going to the war. I am going because I am a
+coward. The world will call me brave and self-sacrificing, but it will not
+be true. I am a coward. The peril I am running away from is far greater
+than that which awaits me over there. I thought you would like to know.
+The suffering of others may cause me to forget my own at times." He signed
+it "Braden"; and below the signature there was a postscript that puzzled
+her for a long time. "If you are not also a coward you will return to my
+grandfather's house, where you belong."
+
+And when she had solved the meaning of that singular postscript she sent
+for Wade.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+Anne Thorpe had set her heart on an eventuality. She could see nothing
+else, think of nothing else. She prayed each night to God,--and
+devoutly,--not alone for the safe return of her lover, but that God would
+send him home soon! She was conscious of no fear that he might never
+return at all.
+
+To the surprise of every one, with the approach of spring, she announced
+her determination to re-open the old Thorpe residence and take up her
+abode therein. George was the only one who opposed her. He was seriously
+upset by the news.
+
+"Good heaven, Anne, you don't _have_ to live in the house, so why do it?
+It's like a tomb. I get the shivers every time I think about it. You can
+afford to live anywhere you like. It isn't as if you were obliged to think
+of expenses--"
+
+"It seems rather silly _not_ to live in it," she countered. "I will admit
+that at first I couldn't endure the thought of it, but that was when all
+of the horrors were fresh in my mind. Besides, I resented his leaving it
+to me. It was not in the bargain, you know. There was something high-
+handed, too, in the way I was _ordered_ to live in the house. I had the
+uncanny feeling that he was trying to keep me where he could watch--but, of
+course, that was nonsense. There is no reason why I shouldn't live in the
+house, Georgie. It is--"
+
+"There is a blamed good reason why you should never have lived in it," he
+blurted out. "There's no use digging it up, however, so we'll let it stay
+buried." He argued bitterly, even doggedly, but finally gave it up.
+"Well," he said in the end, "if you will, you will. All the King's horses
+and all the King's men can't stop you when you've once made up your mind."
+
+A few days later she called for Lutie in the automobile and they went
+together to the grim old house near Washington Square. Her mind was made
+up, as George had put it. She was going to open the house and have it put
+in order for occupancy as soon as possible.
+
+She had solved the meaning of Braden's postscript. She would have to prove
+to him, first of all, that she was not afraid of the shadow that lay
+inside the walls of that grim old house. "If you are not also a coward you
+will return to my grandfather's house, where you belong." It was, she
+honestly believed, his way of telling her that if she faced the shadow in
+her own house, and put it safely behind her, her fortitude would not go
+unrewarded!
+
+It did not occur to her that she was beginning badly when she delayed
+going down to the house for two whole days because Lutie was unable to
+accompany her.
+
+The windows and doors were boarded up. There was no sign of life about the
+place when they got down from the limousine and mounted the steps at the
+heels of the footman who had run on ahead to ring the bell. They waited
+for the opening of the inner door and the shooting of the bolts in the
+storm-doors, but no sound came to their ears. Again the bell jangled,--how
+well she remembered the old-fashioned bell at the end of the hall!--and
+still no response from within.
+
+The two women looked at each other oddly. "Try the basement door," said
+Anne to the man. They stood at the top of the steps while the footman
+tried the iron gate that barred the way to the tradesmen's door. It was
+pad-locked.
+
+"I asked Simmy to meet us here at eleven," said Anne nervously. "I expect
+it will cost a good deal to do the house over as I want--Doesn't any one
+answer, Peters?"
+
+"No, ma'am. Maybe he's out."
+
+Lutie's face blanched suddenly. "My goodness, Anne, what if--what if he's
+dead in--"
+
+"Oh, for heaven's sake, Lutie," cried Anne impatiently, "don't go to
+imagining--Still it's very odd. Pound on the door, Peters,--hard."
+
+She shivered a little and turned away so that Lutie could not see the
+expression in her eyes. "I have had no word from him in nearly two weeks.
+He calls up once every fortnight to inquire--You are not pounding hard
+enough, Peters."
+
+"Let's go away," said Lutie, starting down the steps.
+
+"No," said Anne resolutely, "we must get in somehow. He may be ill. He is
+an old man. He may be lying in there praying for help, dying for lack of--"
+Then she called out to the chauffeur. "See if you can find a policeman. We
+may have to break the door down. You see, Lutie, if he's in there I must
+get to him. We may not be too late."
+
+Lutie rejoined her at the top of the steps. "You're right, Anne. I don't
+know what possessed me. But, goodness, I _hope_ it's nothing--" She
+shuddered. "He may have been dead for days."
+
+"What a horrible thing it would be if--But it doesn't matter, Lutie; I am
+going in. If you are nervous or afraid of seeing something unpleasant,
+don't come with me. Wade must be nearly seventy. He may have fallen
+or--Look! Why,--can _that_ be him coming up the--" She was staring down the
+street toward Sixth Avenue. A great breath of relief escaped her lips as
+she clutched her companion's arm and pointed.
+
+Wade was approaching. He was still half way down the long block, and only
+an eye that knew him well could have identified him. Even at closer range
+one might have mistaken him for some one else.
+
+He was walking rather briskly,--in fact, he was strutting. It was not his
+gait, however, that called for remark. While he was rigidly upright and
+steady as to progress, his sartorial condition was positively staggering.
+He wore a high, shiny silk hat. It was set at just the wee bit of an angle
+and quite well back on his head. Descending his frame, the eye took in a
+costly fur-lined overcoat with a sable collar, properly creased trousers
+with a perceptible stripe, grey spats and unusually glistening shoes that
+could not by any chance have been of anything but patent leather. Light
+tan gloves, a limber walking stick, a white carnation and a bright red
+necktie--there you have all that was visible of him. Even at a great
+distance you would have observed that he was freshly shaved.
+
+Suddenly his eye fell upon the automobile and then took in the smart
+looking visitors above. His pace slackened abruptly. After a moment of
+what appeared to be indecision, he came on, rather hurriedly. There had
+been a second or two of suspense in which Anne had the notion that the
+extraordinary creature was on the point of darting into a basement door,
+as if, unlike the peacock, he was ashamed of his plumage.
+
+He came up to them, removing his high hat with an awkwardness that
+betrayed him. His employer was staring at him with undisguised amazement.
+"I just stepped out for a moment, Mrs. Thorpe, to post a letter," said
+Wade, trying his best not to sink back into servility, and quite miserably
+failing. He was fumbling for his keys. The tops of the houses across the
+street appeared to interest him greatly. His gaze was fixed rather
+intently upon them. "Very sorry, Mrs. Thorpe,--dreadfully sorry. Ahem! Good
+morning. I hope you have not been waiting long. I--ah, here we are!" He
+found the key in the pocket of his fancy waistcoat, and bolted down the
+steps to unlock the gate. "Excuse me, please. I will run in this way and
+open the door from the--"
+
+"Wade," cried out Mrs. Thorpe, "is it really you?"
+
+He looked astonished--and a trifle hurt. "Who else could I be, Mrs.
+Thorpe?" Then he darted through the gate and a moment later the servants'
+door opened and closed behind him.
+
+"I must be dreaming," said Anne. "What in the world has come over the
+man?"
+
+Lutie closed one eye slowly. "There is only one thing under heaven that
+could make a man rig himself out like that,--and that thing is a woman."
+
+"A woman? Don't be foolish, Lutie. Wade couldn't even _think_ of a woman.
+He's nearly seventy."
+
+"They think of 'em until they drop, my dear," said Lutie sagely. "That's
+one thing we've got to give them credit for. They keep on thinking about
+us even while they're trying to keep the other foot out of the grave. You
+are going to lose the amiable Wade, Anne dear. He's not wearing spats for
+nothing."
+
+Some time passed before the key turned in the inner door, and there was
+still a long wait before the bolts in the storm doors shot back and Wade's
+face appeared. He had not had the time to remove the necktie and spats,
+but the rest of his finery had been replaced by the humble togs of
+service--long service, you would say at a glance.
+
+"Sorry to keep you waiting, ma'am, but--" He held the doors open and the
+two ladies entered the stuffy, unlighted hall.
+
+"Turn on the lights, please," said Anne quickly. Wade pushed a button and
+the lights were on. She surveyed him curiously. "Why did you take them
+off, Wade? You looked rather well in them."
+
+He cleared his throat gently, and the shy, set smile reappeared as if by
+magic. "It isn't necessary for me to say that I was not expecting you this
+morning."
+
+"Quite obviously you were not," said Anne drily. She continued to regard
+him somewhat fixedly. Something in his expression puzzled her. "Mr. Dodge
+will be here presently. I am making arrangements to open the house."
+
+He started. "Er--not to--er--live in it yourself, of course. I was sure Mr.
+Dodge would find a way to get around the will so that you could let the
+house--"
+
+"I expect to live here myself, Wade," said she. After a moment, she went
+on: "Will you care to stay on?"
+
+He was suddenly confused. "I--I can't give you an answer just at this
+moment, Mrs. Thorpe. It may be a few days before I--" He paused.
+
+"Take all the time you like, Wade," she interrupted.
+
+"I fancy I'd better give notice now, ma'am," he said after a moment. "To-
+day will do as well as any day for that." He seemed to straighten out his
+figure as he spoke, resuming a little of the unsuspected dignity that had
+accompanied the silk hat and the fur-lined coat.
+
+"I'm sorry," said Anne,--who was not in the slightest sense sorry. Wade
+sometimes gave her the creeps.
+
+"I should like to explain about the--ah--the garments you saw me
+wearing--ah--I mean to say, I should have brought myself to the point of
+telling you a little later on, in any event, but now that you have caught
+me wearing of them, I dare say this is as good a time as any to get it
+over with. First of all, Mrs. Thorpe, I must preface my--er--confession by
+announcing that I am quite sure that you have always considered me to be
+an honest man and above deception and falsehood. Ahem! That _is_ right,
+isn't it?"
+
+"What are you trying to get at, Wade?" she cried in surprise. "You cannot
+imagine that I suspect you of--anything wrong?"
+
+"It may be wrong, and it may not be. I have never felt quite right about
+it. There have been times when I felt real squeamish--and a bit
+underhanded, you might say. On the other hand, I submit that it was not
+altogether reprehensible on my part to air them occasionally--and to see
+that the moths didn't--"
+
+"Air them? For goodness' sake, Wade, speak plainly. Why shouldn't you air
+your own clothes? They are very nice looking and they must have cost you a
+pretty penny. Dear me, I have no right to say what you shall wear on the
+street or--"
+
+Wade's eyes grew a little wider. "Is it possible, madam, that you failed
+to recognise the--er--garments?"
+
+She laid her hand upon Lutie's arm, and gripped it convulsively. Her eyes
+were fixed in a fast-growing look of aversion.
+
+"You do not mean that--that they were Mr. Thorpe's?" she said, in a low
+voice.
+
+"I supposed, of course, you would have remembered them," said Wade, a
+trifle sharply. "The overcoat was one that he wore every day when you went
+out for your drive with him, just before he took to his bed. I--"
+
+"Good heaven!" cried Anne, revolted. "You have been wearing his clothes?"
+
+"They were not really what you would call cast-off garments, ma'am," he
+explained in some haste, evidently to save his dignity. "They were rather
+new, you may remember,--that is to say, the coat and vest and trousers. As
+I recall it, the overcoat was several seasons old, and the hat was the
+last one he ordered before taking to the comfortable lounge hat--he always
+had his hats made from his own block, you see,--and as I was about to
+explain, ma'am, it seemed rather a sin to let them hang in the closet,
+food for moths and to collect dust in spite of the many times I brushed
+them. Of course, I should never have presumed to wear them while he was
+still alive, not even after he had abandoned them for good--No, that is a
+thing I have never been guilty of doing. I could not have done it. That is
+just the difference between a man-servant and a woman-servant. Your maid
+frequently went out in your gowns without your knowledge. I am told it is
+quite a common practice. At least I may claim for myself the credit of
+waiting until my employer was dead before venturing to cover my back with
+his--Yes, honest confession is good for the soul, ma'am. These shoes are my
+own, and the necktie. He could not abide red neckties. Of course, I need
+not say that the carnation I wore was quite fresh. The remainder of my
+apparel was once worn by my beloved master. I am not ashamed to confess
+it."
+
+"How _could_ you wear the clothes of a--a dead person?" cried Anne,
+cringing as if touched by some cold and slimy thing.
+
+"It seemed such a waste, madam. Of late I have taken to toning myself up a
+bit, and there seemed no sensible reason why I shouldn't make use of Mr.
+Thorpe's clothes,--allow me to explain that I wore only those he had used
+the least,--provided they were of a satisfactory fit. We were of pretty
+much the same size,--you will remember that, I'm sure,--and, they fitted me
+quite nicely. Of course, I should not have taken them away with me when I
+left your employ, madam. That would have been unspeakable. I should have
+restored them to the clothes presses, and you would have found them there
+when I turned over the keys and--"
+
+"Good heavens, man," she cried, "take them away with you when you go--all
+of them. Everything, do you hear? I give them all to you. Of what use
+could they be to me? They are yours. Take everything,--hats, boots,
+linen,--"
+
+"Thank you, ma'am. That is very handsome of you. I wasn't quite sure that
+perhaps Mr. Braden wouldn't find some use for the overcoat. It is a very
+elegant coat. It cost--"
+
+"Wade, you are either very stupid or very insolent," she interrupted
+coldly. "We need not discuss the matter any farther. How soon do you
+expect to leave?"
+
+"I should say that a week would be sufficient notice, under the
+circumstances," said he, and chuckled, much to their amazement. "I may as
+well make a clean breast of it, ma'am. I am going to be married on the
+seventeenth of next month. That's just six weeks off and--"
+
+"Married! You?"
+
+"Ah, madam, I trust you will not forget that I have lived a very lonely
+and you might say profitless life," he said, rubbing his hands together,
+and allowing his smile to broaden into a pleased grin. "As you may know in
+the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love,--and so
+on. A man is as old as he feels. I can't say that I ever felt younger in
+my life than I have felt during the past month."
+
+"I wish you joy and happiness, Wade," said Anne dumbly. She was staring at
+his smirking, seamed old face as if fascinated. "I hope she is a good
+woman and that you will find--"
+
+"She is little more than a girl," said he, straightening his figure still
+a little more, remembering that he had just spoken of his own youthful
+feelings. There may have been something of the pride of conquest as well.
+"Just twenty-one last December."
+
+Lutie laughed out loud. He bent his head quickly and they saw that his
+lips were compressed.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Wade," cried George's wife. "It--it really isn't
+anything to laugh at, and I'm sorry."
+
+"That's all right, Mrs. George," he muttered.
+
+"Only twenty-one," murmured Anne, her gaze running over the shabby old
+figure in front of her. "My God, Wade, is she--what can she be thinking
+of?"
+
+He looked straight into her eyes, and spoke. "Is it so horrible for a
+young girl to marry an old man, ma'am?" he asked sorrowfully, and so
+respectfully that she was deceived into believing that he intended no
+affront to her.
+
+"They usually know what they are doing when they marry very old men," she
+replied deliberately. "You must not overlook that fact, Wade. But perhaps
+it isn't necessary for me to remind you that young girls do not marry old
+men for love. There may be pity, or sentiment, or duty--but never love.
+More often than not it is avarice, Wade."
+
+"Quite true," said he. "I am glad to have you speak so frankly to me,
+ma'am. It proves that you are interested in my welfare."
+
+"Who is she, Wade?" she inquired.
+
+Lutie had passed into the library, leaving them together in the hall. She
+had experienced a sudden sensation of nausea. It was impossible for her to
+remain in the presence of this shattered old hulk and still be able to
+keep the disgust from showing itself in her eyes. She was the wife of a
+real man, and the wife of a man whom she could love and caress and yield
+herself to with a thrill of ecstasy in her blood.
+
+"The young lady I was speaking to you about some weeks ago, madam,--the
+daughter of my friend who conducts the _delicatessen_ just below us in
+Sixth Avenue. You remember I spoke to you of the Southern lady reduced to
+a commercial career by--"
+
+"I remember. I remember thinking at the time that it might be the mother
+who would prevail--I am sorry, Wade. I shouldn't have said that--"
+
+"It's quite all right," said he amiably. "It is barely possible--ay, even
+probable,--that it was the mother who prevailed. They sometimes do, you
+know. But Marian appears to have a mind of her own. She loves me, Mrs.
+Thorpe. I am quite sure of that. It would be pretty hard to deceive me."
+
+Through all of this Anne was far from oblivious to the sinister
+comparisons the man was drawing. She had always been a little afraid of
+him. Now an uneasy horror was laying its hold upon her. He had used her as
+an example in persuading a silly, unsophisticated girl to give herself to
+him. He had gone about his courtship in the finery his dead master had
+left behind him.
+
+"I thank you for your good wishes, Mrs. Thorpe," he went on, smoothly. "If
+it is not too much to ask, I should like to have you say a few good words
+for me to Marian some day soon. She would be very greatly influenced by
+the opinion of so great a lady as--"
+
+"But I thought you said it was settled," she broke in sharply.
+
+"It is settled," he said. "But if you would only do me the favour
+of--er--advising her to name an earlier day than the seventeenth, I--"
+
+"I cannot advise her, Wade," said she firmly. "It is out of the question."
+
+"I am sorry," he said, lowering his gaze. "Mr. Thorpe was my best friend
+as well as my master. I thought, for his sake, you might consent to--"
+
+"You must do your own pleading, Wade," she interrupted, a red spot
+appearing in each cheek. Then rashly: "You may continue to court her in
+Mr. Thorpe's clothes but you need not expect his wife to lend her
+assistance also."
+
+His eyes glittered. "I am sorry if I have offended you, ma'am. And I thank
+you for being honest and straightforward with me. It is always best."
+
+"I did not mean to hurt your feelings, Wade," she began, half-sorry for
+her remark.
+
+"Not in the least, ma'am. Nothing can hurt my feelings. You see, I lived
+with Mr. Thorpe a great deal longer than you did. I got quite beyond being
+hurt."
+
+She drew a step nearer. "Wade," she said quietly, "I am going to advise
+you, not this wretched girl who is planning to marry you. How old are
+you?"
+
+"Two score and a half and five," he answered promptly. Evidently he had
+uttered the glib lie before, and as on another occasion he waited for his
+listener to reduce the words to figures.
+
+"Fifty-five," said Anne, after some time. She was not good at mathematics.
+"I thought you were older than that. It doesn't matter, however. You are
+fairly well-off, I believe. Upwards of fifty thousand dollars, no doubt.
+Now, I shall be quite frank with you. This girl is taking you for your
+money. Just a moment, if you please. I do not know her, and I may be doing
+her an injustice. You have compared her to me in reaching your
+conclusions. You do not deceive yourself any more than Mr. Thorpe deceived
+himself. He knew I did not love him, and you must know that the same
+condition exists in this affair of yours. You have thanked me for being
+honest. Well, I was honest with Mr. Thorpe. I would have been as true as
+steel to him, even if he had lived to be an hundred. The question you must
+ask of yourself is this, Wade: Will this girl be as true as steel to you?
+Is there no other man to be afraid of?"
+
+He listened intently. A certain greyness crept into his hollow cheeks.
+
+"Was there no other man when you married Mr. Thorpe?" he asked levelly.
+
+"Yes, there was," she surprised him by replying. "An honest man, however.
+I think you know--"
+
+She scarcely heard Wade as he went on, now in a most conciliatory way. "It
+may interest you to know that I have arranged to buy out the delicatessen.
+We expect to enlarge and tidy the place up just as soon as we can get
+around to it. I believe I shall be very happy, once I get into active
+business. Mrs. Gadscomb,--that's the present mother,--I mean to say, the
+present owner, Marian's mother, has agreed to conduct the place as
+heretofore, at a very excellent salary, and I have no fear as to--But
+excuse me for going on like this, ma'am. No doubt you would like to talk
+about your own affairs instead of listening to mine. You said something
+about opening the house and coming back here to live. Of course, I shall
+consider it my duty to remain here just as long as I can be of service to
+you. There will be a little plumbing needed on the third floor, and I
+fancy a general cleaning--"
+
+"Thank heaven, there is Mr. Dodge at last," cried Anne, as the bell
+jangled almost over her head, startling her into a little cry of alarm.
+
+As Wade shuffled toward the front door, once more the simple slave of
+circumstance, she fled quickly into the library.
+
+"Oh, Lutie," she cried, sinking into a chair beside the long, familiar
+table, and beating with her clenched hands upon the surface of it, "I know
+at last just how I look to other people. My God in heaven, what a _thing
+I_ must seem to you."
+
+Lutie came swiftly out of the shadows and laid her hands upon the
+shoulders of her sister-in-law.
+
+"You ought to thank the Lord, dear old girl, for the revelation," she said
+gently. "I guess it's just what you've needed." Then she leaned over and
+pressed her warm, soft cheek to Anne's cold one. "If I owned this house,"
+she said almost in a whisper, "I'd renovate it from top to bottom. I'd get
+rid of more than old Wade and the old clothes. The best and cheapest way
+to renovate it would be to set fire to a barrel of kerosene in the
+basement."
+
+"Oh, how horrible for that girl to marry a dreadful, shrivelled old man
+like Wade. The skin on his hands is all wrinkled and loose--I couldn't help
+noticing it as I--"
+
+"Hello!" called out Simmy from the doorway, peering into the darkened
+room. "Where the deuce are you? Ah, that's better, Wade." The caretaker
+had switched on the lights in the big chandelier. "Sorry to be late, Anne.
+Morning, Lutie. How's my god-son? Couldn't get here a minute sooner. You
+see, Anne, I've got other clients besides you. Braden, for instance. I've
+been carrying out his instructions in regard to that confounded
+trusteeship. The whole matter is to be looked after by a Trust Company
+from now on. Simplifies matters enormously."
+
+Anne started up. "Isn't--isn't he coming back to America?" she cried.
+
+"Sure,--unless they pink him some day. My goodness, you don't suppose for
+an instant that he could manage the whole of that blooming foundation and
+have any time to spare for _hopeful_ humanity,--do you? Why, it will take a
+force of half a dozen men to keep the books straight and look after the
+ever-increasing capital. By the time old Brady is ready to start the ball
+rolling there will be so much money stored up for the job that Rockefeller
+will be ashamed to mention the pitiful fortune he controls. In the
+meantime he can go on saving people's lives while the trust company saves
+the Foundation."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+Thorpe returned to New York about the middle of May, in the tenth month of
+the war. The true facts concerning the abrupt severance of his connections
+with the hospital corps in France were never divulged. His confrères and
+his superiors maintained a discreet and loyal silence. It was to Simmy
+that he explained the cause of his retirement. Word had gone out among the
+troops that he was the American doctor whose practices were infinitely
+more to be feared than the bullets from an enemy's guns.... It was
+announced from headquarters that he was returning to the United States on
+account of ill-health. He had worked hard and unceasingly and had exposed
+himself to grave physical hardships. He came home with a medal for
+conspicuous and unexampled valour while actually under fire. One report
+had it that on more than one occasion he appeared not only to scorn death
+but to invite it, so reckless were his deeds.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile James Marraville died in great agony. Those nearest to him said,
+in so many words, that it was a great pity he did not die at the time of
+the operation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"But," began one of the reporters at the dock, "you are said to have
+risked your own life, Dr. Thorpe, on at least half a dozen occasions when
+you exposed yourself to the fire of the enemy by going out in front after
+men who had fallen and were as good as dead when you got to them. In every
+case, we are told the men died on the stretchers while they were being
+carried to the rear. Do you mind telling us why you brought those men back
+when you knew that they were bound to die--"
+
+"You have been misinformed," interrupted Thorpe. "One of those men did not
+die. I did all that was possible to save the lives as well as the bodies
+of those wretched fellows. Not one of them appeared to have a chance. The
+one who survived was in the most hopeless condition of them all. He is
+alive to-day, but without legs or arms. He is only twenty-two. He may live
+to be seventy. The others died. Will you say that they are not better off
+than he? And yet we tried to save them all. That is what we were there
+for. I saw a man run a bayonet through the heart of his own brother one
+day. We were working over him at the time and we knew that our efforts
+would be useless. The brother knew it also. He merely did the thing we
+refused to do. You want to know why I deliberately picked out of all the
+wounded the men who seemed to have the least chance for recovery, and
+brought them back to a place of safety. Well, I will tell you quite
+frankly, why I chose those men from among all the others. They were being
+left behind. They were as good as dead, as you say. I wanted to treat the
+most hopeless cases that could be found. I wanted to satisfy myself. I
+went about it quite cold-bloodedly,--not bravely, as the papers would have
+it,--and I confess that I passed by men lying out there who might have had
+a chance, looking for those who apparently had none. Seven of them died,
+as you say,--seven of the 'hopelessly afflicted.' One of them lived. You
+will now say that having proved to my own satisfaction that no man can be
+'hopelessly afflicted,' I should be ready to admit the fallacy of my
+preachings. But you are wrong. I am more firmly intrenched in my position
+than ever before. That man's life should not have been saved. We did him a
+cruel wrong in saving it for him. He wanted to die, he still wants to die.
+He will curse God to the end of his days because he was allowed to live.
+Some day his relatives will exhibit him in public, as one of the greatest
+of freaks, and people will pay to enter the side shows to see him. They
+will carry him about in shawl straps. He will never be able to protest,
+for he has lost the power of speech. He can only _see_ and _hear_. Will
+you be able to look into the agonised eyes of that man as he lies propped
+up in a chair, a mere trunk, and believe that he is glad to be alive? Will
+you then rejoice over the fact that we saved him from a much nobler grave
+than the one he occupies in the side-show, where all the world may stare
+at him at so much per head? An inglorious reward, gentlemen, for a brave
+soldier of the Republic."
+
+"We may quote you as saying, Dr. Thorpe, that you have not abandoned your
+theories?"
+
+"Certainly. I shall go on preaching, as you are pleased to call my
+advocacy. A great many years from to-day--centuries, no doubt,--the world
+will think as I do now. Thank you, gentlemen, for your courtesy in--"
+
+"Have you heard that James Marraville died last week, Dr. Thorpe?" broke
+in one of the reporters.
+
+"No," said he, quite unmoved. "I am not surprised, however. I gave him
+five or six months."
+
+"Didn't you expect him to get entirely well?" demanded the man, surprised.
+
+Braden shook his head, smiling. "No one expected that, gentlemen,--not even
+Mr. Marraville."
+
+"But every one thought that the operation was a success, and--"
+
+"And so it was, gentlemen," said Thorpe unsmilingly; "a very terrible
+success."
+
+"Gee, if we print that as coming from you, Dr. Thorpe, it will create the
+biggest sensation in years."
+
+"Then I haven't the least doubt that you will print it," said Thorpe.
+
+There was a short silence. Then the spokesman said: "I think I speak for
+every man here when I say that we will not print it, Dr. Thorpe. We
+understand, but the people wouldn't." He deliberately altered the
+character of the interview and inquired if German submarines had been
+sighted after the steamship left Liverpool. The whole world was still
+shuddering over the disaster to the _Lusitania_, torpedoed the week
+before, with the loss of over a thousand souls.
+
+Thorpe drove uptown with Simmy Dodge, who would not hear of his going to
+an hotel, but conducted him to his own apartment where he was to remain as
+long as he pleased.
+
+"Get yourself pulled together, old chap, before you take up any work,"
+advised Simmy. "You look pretty seedy. We're going to have a hot summer,
+they say. Don't try to do too much until you pick up a bit. Too bad
+they're fighting all over the continent of Europe. If they weren't, hang
+me if I wouldn't pack you onto a boat and take you over there for a good
+long rest, in spite of what happened to the _Lusitania_. We'll go up into
+the mountains in June, Brady,--or what do you say to skipping out to the
+San Francisco fair for a few--"
+
+"You're looking thin and sort of pegged out, old boy," began Simmy
+soothingly.
+
+"I'm all right, Simmy. Sound as anything. I don't mind telling you that it
+wasn't my health that drove me out of the service,--and that's what hurts.
+They--they didn't want me. They thought it was best for me to get out."
+
+"Good Lord!" gasped Simmy, struggling between amazement and indignation.
+"What kind of blithering fools have they got over--"
+
+"They are not blithering fools," said Thorpe soberly. "The staff would not
+have turned me out, I'm sure of that. I was doing good work, Simmy," he
+went on rapidly, eagerly, "even though I do say it myself. Everybody was
+satisfied, I'm sure. Night and day,--all the time,--mind you, and I was
+standing up under it better than any of them. But, you see, it wasn't the
+staff that did it. It was the poor devil of a soldier out there in the
+trenches. They found out who I was. Newspapers, of course. Well, that
+tells the story. They were afraid of me. But I am not complaining. I do
+not blame them. God knows it was hard enough for them to face death out
+there at the front without having to think of--well, getting it anyhow if
+they fell into my hands. I--But there's no use speaking of it, Simmy. I
+wanted you to know why I got out, and I want Anne to know. As for the
+rest, let them think I was sick or--cowardly if they like."
+
+Simmy was silent for a long time. He said afterwards that it was all he
+could do to keep from crying as he looked at the pale, gaunt face of his
+friend and listened to the verdict of the French soldiers.
+
+"I don't see the necessity for telling Anne," he said, at last, pulling
+rather roughly at his little moustache. They were seated at one of the
+broad windows in Simmy's living-room, drinking in the cool air that came
+up from the west in advance of an impending thunderstorm. The day had been
+hot and stifling. "No sense in letting her know, old man. Secret between
+you and me, if you don't--"
+
+"I'd rather she knew," said Thorpe briefly. "In fact, she will have to
+know."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Thorpe was staring out over the Park, and did not answer. Simmy found
+another cigarette and lighted it, scorching his fingers while furtively
+watching his companion's face.
+
+"How is Anne, Simmy?" demanded Thorpe abruptly. There was a fierce, eager
+light in his eyes, but his manner was strangely repressed. "Where is she?"
+
+Simmy took a deep breath. "She's well and she's at home."
+
+"You mean,--down there in the old--"
+
+"The old Thorpe house. I don't know what's got into the girl, Brady. First
+she swears she won't live in the house, and then she turns around,--just
+like that,--and moves in. Workmen all over the place, working overtime and
+all that sort of thing,--with Anne standing around punchin' 'em with a
+sharp stick if they don't keep right on the job. Top to bottom,--renovated,
+redecorated, brightened up,--wouldn't recognise the place as--"
+
+"Is she living there--alone?"
+
+"Yes. New lot of servants and--By the way, old Wade has--what do you think
+he has done?"
+
+"How long has she been living down there?" demanded the other,
+impatiently. His eyes were gleaming.
+
+"Well, old Wade has gone and got married," went on Simmy, deliberately
+ignoring the eager question. "Married a girl of twenty or something like
+that. Chucked his job, bloomed out as a dandy,--spats and chamois gloves
+and silk hats,--cleared out three weeks ago for a honeymoon,--rather pretty
+girl, by the way,--"
+
+Braden's attention had been caught at last and held. "Wade married? Good
+Lord! Oh, I say, Simmy, you _can't_ expect me to believe--"
+
+"You'll see. He has shaken the dust of Thorpe house from his person and is
+gallivanting around in lavender perfumes and purple linen."
+
+"My God! That old hulk and--twenty years, did you say? Why, the damned old
+scoundrel! After all he has seen and--" His jaws closed suddenly with a
+snap, and his eyes narrowed into ugly slits.
+
+"Be careful, Brady, old top," said Simmy, shaking his head. "It won't do
+to call Wade names, you know. Just stop and think for a second or two."
+
+Thorpe relaxed with a gesture of despair. "You are right, Simmy. Why
+should I blame Wade?"
+
+He got up and began pacing the floor, his hands clenched behind his back.
+Simmy smoked in silence, apparently absorbed in watching the angry clouds
+that blackened the western sky.
+
+Presently Thorpe resumed his seat in the window. His eyes did not meet
+Simmy's as the latter turned toward him. He look straight out over the
+tops of the great apartment houses on the far side of the Park.
+
+"How long has she been living down there alone?" he asked again.
+
+"Five or six weeks."
+
+"When did you last see her?"
+
+"Yesterday. She's been dreadfully nervous ever since the blowing up of the
+_Lusitania_. I asked her to go to the pier with me. She refused. See here,
+Brady," said Simmy, rising suddenly and laying his hand on the other's
+shoulder, "what are you going to do about Anne?"
+
+"Nothing. Anne can never be anything to me, nor I to her," said Thorpe,
+white-faced and stern. His face was rigid.
+
+"Nonsense! You love her, don't you?"
+
+"Yes. That has nothing to do with it, however."
+
+"And she loves you. I suppose that hasn't anything to do with it, either.
+I suppose it is right and proper and natural that you both should go on
+loving each other to the end of time without realising the joys of--"
+
+"Don't try to argue the--"
+
+"It's right that you should let that glorious, perfect young creature
+wither and droop with time, grow old without--oh, Lordy, what a damn fool
+you are, Brady! There isn't the slightest reason in this world why you
+shouldn't get married and--"
+
+"Stop that, Simmy!"
+
+"Here you are, two absolutely sound, strong, enduring specimens of
+humanity,--male and female,--loving each other, wanting each other,--and yet
+you say you can never be anything to each other! Hasn't nature anything to
+do with it? Are you going to sit there and tell me that for some
+obstinate, mawkish reason you think you ought to deprive her of the one
+man in all this world that she wants and must have? It doesn't matter what
+she did a couple of years ago. It doesn't matter that she was,--and still
+may be designing,--the fact remains that she is the woman you love and that
+you are her man. She married old Mr. Thorpe deliberately, I grant you. She
+doesn't deny it. She loved you when she did it. And you can't, to save
+your soul, hate her for it. You ought to do so, I admit. But you don't,
+and that solves the problem. You want her now even more than you did two
+years ago. You can't defy nature, old chap. You may defy convention, and
+honour, and even common decency, but you can't beat nature out of its due.
+Now, look me in the eye! Why can't you marry Anne and--be everything to
+her, instead of nothing, as you put it? Answer me!"
+
+"It is impossible," groaned Thorpe. "You cannot understand, Simmy."
+
+"Nothing is impossible," said Simmy, the optimist. "If you are afraid of
+what people will say about it, then all I have to say is that you are
+worse than a coward: you are a stupid ass. People talked themselves black
+in the face when she married your grandfather, and what good did it do
+them? Not a particle of good. They roasted her to a fare-you-well, and
+they called her a mean, avaricious, soulless woman, and still she
+survives. Everybody expects her to marry you. When she does it, everybody
+will smile and say 'I told you so,'--and sneer a little, perhaps,--but, hang
+it all, what difference should that make? This is a big world. It is
+busier than you think. It will barely take the time to sniff twice or
+maybe three times at you and Anne and then it will hustle along on the
+scent of something new. It's always smelling out things, but that's all it
+amounts to. It overlooks divorces, liaisons, murders,--everything, in fact,
+except disappointments. It never forgives the man or woman who disappoints
+it. Now, I know something else that's on your mind. You think that because
+you operated--fatally, we'll say,--on your grandfather, that that is an
+obstacle in the way of your marriage with Anne. Tommy-rot! I've heard of a
+hundred doctors who have married the widows of their patients, and their
+friends usually congratulate 'em, which goes to prove something, doesn't
+it? You are expected by ninety per cent. of the inhabitants of greater New
+York to marry Anne Tresslyn. They may have forgotten everything else, but
+that one thing they _do_ expect. They said it would happen and it must.
+They said it when Anne married your grandfather, they said it when he died
+and they say it now, even though their minds are filled with other
+things."
+
+Thorpe eyed him steadily throughout this earnest appeal. "Do you think
+that Anne expects it, Simmy?" he inquired, a harsh note in his voice.
+
+Simmy had to think quickly. "I think she does," he replied, and always was
+to wonder whether he said the right thing. "She is in love with you. She
+wants you, and anything that Anne wants she expects to get. I don't mean
+that in a disparaging sense, either. If she doesn't marry you, she'll
+never marry any one. She'll wait for you till the end of her days. Even if
+you were to marry some one else, she'd--"
+
+"I shall not marry any one else," said Thorpe, almost fiercely.
+
+"--She'd go on waiting and wanting you just the same, and you would go on
+wanting her," concluded Simmy. "You will never consider your life complete
+until you have Anne Tresslyn as a part of it. She wants to make you happy.
+That's what most women want when they're in love with a man."
+
+"I tell you, Simmy, I cannot marry Anne. I love her,--God knows how
+terribly I want her,--in spite of everything. It _is_ nature. You can't
+kill love, no matter how hard you try. Some one else has to do the
+killing. Anne is keeping it alive in me. She has tortured my love, beaten
+it, outraged it, but all the time she has been secretly feeding it,
+caressing it, never for an instant letting it out of her grasp. You cannot
+understand, Simmy. You've never been in love with a woman like Anne. She
+may have despaired at times, but she has never given up the fight, not
+even when she must have thought that I despised her. She knew that my love
+was mortally hurt, but do you think she would let it die? No! She will
+keep it alive forever,--and she will suffer, too, in doing so. But what's
+that to Anne? She--"
+
+"Just a second, old chap," broke in Simmy. "You are forgetting that Anne
+wants you to be happy."
+
+"God, how happy I could have been with her!"
+
+"See here, will you go down there and see her?" demanded Simmy.
+
+"I can't do that,--I can't do it. Simmy--" he lowered his voice to almost a
+whisper,--"I can't trust myself. I don't know what would happen if I were
+to see her again,--be near her, alone with her. This longing for her has
+become almost unbearable. I thought of her every minute of the time I was
+out there at the front--Yes, I had to put the heaviest restraint upon
+myself at times to keep from chucking the whole thing and dashing back
+here to get her, to take her, to keep her,--maybe to kill her, I don't
+know. Now I realise that I was wrong in coming back to America at all. I
+should have gone--oh, anywhere else in the world. But here I am, and,
+strangely enough, I feel stronger, more able to resist. It was the
+distance between us that made it so terrible. I can resist her here, but,
+by heaven, I couldn't over there. I could have come all the way back from
+France to see her, but I can't go from here down to Washington Square,--so
+that shows you how I stand in the matter."
+
+"Now I know the real reason why you came back to little old New York,"
+said Simmy sagely, and Thorpe was not offended.
+
+"In the first place I cannot marry her while she still has in her
+possession the money for which she sold herself and me," said Thorpe,
+musing aloud. "You ought to at least be able to understand that, Simmy? No
+matter how much I love her, I can't make her my wife with that accursed
+money standing--But there's no use talking about _that_. There is an even
+graver reason why I ought not to marry her, an insurmountable reason. I
+cannot tell you what it is, but I fear that down in your heart you
+suspect."
+
+Simmy leaned forward in his chair. "I think I know, old man," he said
+simply. "But even that shouldn't stand in the way. I don't see why you
+should have been kind and gentle and merciful to Mr. Thorpe, and refuse to
+be the same, in a different way, to her." His face broke into a whimsical
+smile. "Anne is what you might call hopelessly afflicted. Dammit all, put
+her out of her misery!"
+
+Thorpe stared at him aghast. The utter banality of the remark left him
+speechless. For the first time in their acquaintance, he misjudged Simmy
+Dodge. He drew back from him, scowling.
+
+"That's a pretty rotten thing to say, Simmy," he said, after a moment.
+"Pretty poor sort of wit."
+
+"It wasn't meant for wit, my friend," said Simmy seriously. "I meant every
+word of it, no matter how rotten it may have sounded. If you are going to
+preach mercy and all that sort of silly rot, practise it whenever it is
+possible. There's no law against your being kind to Anne Tresslyn. You
+don't have to be governed by a commission or anything like that. She's
+just as deserving as any one, you know."
+
+"Which is another way of saying that she _deserves_ my love?" cried Thorpe
+angrily.
+
+"She's got it, so it really doesn't matter whether she deserves it or not.
+You can't take it away from her. You've tried it and--well, she's still got
+it, so there's no use arguing."
+
+"Do you think it gives me any happiness to love her as I do?" cried the
+other. "Do you think I am finding joy in the prospect of never having her
+for my own--all for my own? Do you--"
+
+"Well, my boy, do you think she is finding much happiness living down
+there in that old house all alone? Do you think she is getting much real
+joy out of her little old two millions? By the way, why is she living down
+there at all? I can tell you. She's doing it because she's got nerve
+enough to play the game out as she began it. She's doing it because she
+believes it will cause you to think better of her. This is a guess on my
+part, but I know darned well she wouldn't be doing it if there wasn't some
+good and sufficient reason."
+
+Thorpe nodded his head slowly, an ironic smile on his lips. "Yes, she _is_
+playing the game, but not as she began it. I am not so sure that I think
+better of her for doing it."
+
+"Brady, I hope you'll forgive me for saying something harsh and
+disrespectful about your grandfather, but here goes. He played you a
+shabby trick in taking Anne away from you in the first place. No matter
+how shabbily Anne behaved toward you, he was worse than she. Then he
+virtually compelled you to perform an operation that--well, I'll not say
+it. We can forgive him for that. He was suffering. And then he went out of
+his way to leave that old house down there to Anne, knowing full well that
+if she continued to live in it, it would be a sort of prison to her. She
+can't sell it, she can't rent it. She's got to live in it, or abandon it
+altogether. I call it a pretty mean sort of trick to play on her, if
+you'll forgive my--"
+
+"She doesn't have to live in it," said Thorpe doggedly.
+
+"She is going to live there until you take her out of it, bodily if you
+please, and you are going to become so all-fired sorry for her that
+you'll--"
+
+"Good Lord, Simmy," shouted Thorpe, springing to his feet with a bitter
+imprecation, "don't go on like this. I can't stand it. I know how she
+hates it. I know how frightened, how miserable she is down there. It _is_
+a prison,--no, worse than that, it is haunted by something that you cannot
+possibly--My God, it must be awful for her, all alone,--shivering,
+listening,--something crawly--something sinister and accusing--Why, she--"
+
+"Here, here, old fellow!" cried Simmy in alarm. "Don't go off your nut.
+You're talking like a crazy man,--and, hang it all, I don't like the look
+in your eye. Gosh, if it gives you the creeps--who don't have to be down
+there of nights,--what must it be for that shrinking, sensitive--Hey! Where
+are you going?"
+
+"I'm going down there to see her. I'm going to tell her that I was a cur
+to write what I did to her the day I sailed. I--" He stopped short near the
+door, and faced his friend. His hands were clenched.
+
+"I shall see her just this once,--never again if I can avoid it," he said.
+"Just to tell her that I don't want her to live in that house. She's got
+to get out. I'll not know a moment's peace until she is out of that
+house."
+
+Simmy heard the door slam and a few minutes later the opening and closing
+of the elevator cage. He sat quite still, looking out over the trees. He
+was a rather pathetic figure.
+
+"I wonder if I'd be so loyal to him if I had a chance myself," he mused.
+"Oh, Lordy, Lordy!" He closed his eyes as if in pain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+The storm burst in all its fury when Thorpe was half way down the Avenue
+in the taxi he had picked up at the Plaza. Pedestrians scurried in all
+directions, seeking shelter from the wind and rain; the blackness of night
+had fallen upon the city; the mighty roar of a thousand cannon came out of
+the clouds; terrifying flashes rent the skies. The man in the taxi neither
+saw nor heard the savage assault of the elements. He was accustomed to the
+roar of battle. He was used to thinking with something worse than thunder
+in his ears, and something worse than raindrops beating about him.
+
+He knew that Anne was afraid of the thunder and the lightning. More than
+once she had huddled close to him and trembled in the haven of his arms,
+her fingers to her ears, while storms raged about them. He was thinking of
+her now, down there in that grim old house, trembling in some darkened
+place, her eyes wide with alarm, her heart beating wildly with terror,--ah,
+he remembered so well how wildly her heart could beat!
+
+He had forgotten his words to Simmy: "I can't trust myself!" There was but
+one object in his mind and that was to retract the unnecessary challenge
+with which he had closed his letter to her in January. Why should he have
+demanded of her a sacrifice for which he could offer no consolation? He
+now admitted to himself that when he wrote the blighting postscript he was
+inspired by a mean desire to provoke anticipation on her part. "If you
+also are not a coward, you will return to my grandfather's house, where
+you belong." What right had he to revive the hope that she accounted dead?
+She still had her own life to live, and in her own way. He was not to be a
+part of it. He was sure of that, and yet he had given her something on
+which to sustain the belief that a time would come when their lives might
+find a common channel and run along together to the end. She had taken his
+words as he had hoped she would, and now he was filled with shame and
+compunction.
+
+The rain was coming down in sheets when the taxi-cab slid up to the curb
+in front of the house that had been his home for thirty years. His home!
+Not hers, but _his_! She did not belong there, and he did. He would never
+cease to regard this fine old house as his home.
+
+He was forced to wait for the deluge to cease or to slacken. For many
+minutes he sat there in the cab, his gaze fixed rigidly on the streaming,
+almost opaque window, trying to penetrate the veil of water that hung
+between him and the walls of the house not twenty feet away. At last his
+impatience got the better of him, and, the downpour having diminished
+slightly, he made a sudden swift dash from the vehicle and up the stone
+steps into the shelter of the doorway. Here he found company. Four
+workmen, evidently through for the day, were flattened against the walls
+of the vestibule.
+
+They made way for him. Without realising what he did, he hastily snatched
+his key-ring from his pocket, found the familiar key he had used for so
+many years, and inserted it in the lock. The door opened at once and he
+entered the hall. As he closed the door behind him, his eyes met the
+curious gaze of the four workmen, and for the first time he realised what
+he had done through force of habit. For a moment or two he stood
+petrified, trying to grasp the full significance of his act. He had never
+rung the door-bell of that house,--not in all the years of his life. He had
+always entered in just this way. His grandfather had given him a key when
+he was thirteen,--the same key that he now held in his fingers and at which
+he stared in a sort of stupefaction.
+
+He was suddenly aware of another presence in the hall,--a figure in white
+that stood near the foot of the staircase, motionless where it had been
+arrested by the unexpected opening of the door,--a tall, slender figure.
+
+He saw her hand go swiftly to her heart.
+
+"Why--why didn't you--let me know?" she murmured in a voice so low that he
+could hardly hear the words. "Why do you come in this way to--"
+
+"What must you think of me for--for breaking in upon you--" he began,
+jerkily. "I don't know what possessed me to--you see, I still have the key
+I used while I lived--Oh, I'm sorry, Anne! I can't explain. It just seemed
+natural to--"
+
+"Why did you come without letting me know?" she cried, and now her voice
+was shrill from the effort she made to suppress her agitation.
+
+"I should have telephoned," he muttered. Suddenly he tore the key from the
+ring. "Here! It does not belong to me. I should not have the key to your--"
+
+"Keep it," she said, drawing back. "I want you to keep it. I shall be
+happier if I know that you have the key to the place where I live. No! I
+will not take it."
+
+To her infinite surprise, he slipped the key into his pocket. She had
+expected him to throw it upon the floor as she resolutely placed her hands
+behind her back.
+
+"Very well," he said, rather roughly. "It is quite safe with me. I shall
+never forget myself again as I have to-day."
+
+For the first time since entering the door, he allowed his gaze to sweep
+the lofty hallway. But for the fact that he knew he had come into the
+right house, he would have doubted his own senses. There was nothing here,
+to remind him of the sombre, gloomy place that he had known from
+childhood's earliest days. All of the massive, ugly trappings were gone,
+and all of the gloom. The walls were bright, the rugs gay, the woodwork
+cheerfully white. He glanced quickly down the length of the hall and--yes,
+the suit of mail was gone! He was conscious of a great relief.
+
+Then his eyes fell upon her again. A strange, wistful little smile had
+appeared while his gaze went roving.
+
+"You see that I am trying not to be a coward," she said.
+
+"What a beast I was to write that thing to you," he cried. "I came down
+here to tell you that I am sorry. I don't want you to live here, Anne. It
+is--"
+
+"Ah, but I am here," she said, "and here I shall stay. We have done
+wonders with the place. You will not recognise it,--not a single corner of
+it, Braden. It was all very well as the home of a lonely old man who loved
+it, but it was not quite the place for a lonely young woman who hated it.
+Come! Let me show you the library. It is finished. I think you will say it
+is a woman's room now and not a man's. Some of the rooms upstairs are
+still unfinished. My own room is a joy. Everything is new and--"
+
+"Anne," he broke in, almost harshly, "it will come to nothing, you may as
+well know the truth now. It will save you a great deal of unhappiness, and
+it will allow you to look elsewhere for--"
+
+"Come into the library," she interrupted. "I already have had a great deal
+of unhappiness in that room, so I fancy it won't be so hard to hear what
+you have come to say to me if you say it to me there."
+
+He followed her to the library door, and there stopped in amazement,
+unwilling to credit his eyes. He was looking into the brightest, gayest
+room he had ever seen. An incredible transformation had taken place. The
+vast, stately, sober room had become dainty, exquisite, enchanting. Here,
+instead of oppressive elegance, was the most delicate beauty; here was
+exemplified at a glance the sweet, soft touch of woman in contrast to the
+heavy, uncompromising hand of man. Here was sweetness and freshness, and
+the sparkle of youth, and gone were the grim things of age. Here was light
+and happiness, and the fragrance of woman.
+
+"In heaven's name, what _have_ you done to this room?" he cried. "Am I in
+my right senses? Can this be my grandfather's house?"
+
+She smiled, and did not answer. She was watching his face with eager,
+wistful eyes.
+
+"Why, it's--it's unbelievable," he went on, an odd tremor in his voice. "It
+is wonderful. It is--why, it is beautiful, Anne. I could not have dreamed
+that such a change,--What has become of everything? What have you done with
+all the big, clumsy, musty things that--"
+
+"They are in a storage warehouse," said she crisply. "There isn't so much
+as a carpet-tack left of the old regime. Everything is gone. Every single
+thing that was here with your grandfather is gone. I alone am left. When I
+came down here two months ago the place was filled with the things that
+you remember. I had made up my mind to stay here,--but not with the things
+that I remembered. The first thing I did was to clean out the house from
+cellar to garret. I am not permitted to sell the contents of this house,
+but there was nothing to prevent me from storing them. Your grandfather
+overlooked that little point, I fear. In any event, that was the first
+thing I did. Everything is gone, mind you,--even to the portrait that used
+to hang over the mantelpiece there,--and it was the only cheerful object in
+the house. I wish I could show you my boudoir, my bedroom, and the rooms
+in which Mr. Thorpe lived. You--you would love them."
+
+He was now standing in the middle of the room, staring about him at the
+handiwork of Aladdin.
+
+"Why, it isn't--it will not be so dreadful, after all," he said slowly.
+"You have made it all so lovely, so homelike, so much like yourself
+that--you will not find it so hard to live here as I--"
+
+"I wanted you to like it, Braden. I wanted you to see the place,--to see
+what I have done to make it bright and cheerful and endurable. No, I
+sha'n't find it so hard to live here. I was sure that some day you would
+come to see me here and I wanted you to feel that--that it wasn't as hard
+for me as you thought it would be. I have been a coward, though. I confess
+that I could not have lived here with all those things about to--to remind
+me of--You see, I just _had_ to make the place possible. I hope you are not
+offended with me for what I have done. I have played havoc with sentiment
+and association, and you may feel that I--"
+
+"Offended? Good heavens, Anne, why should I be offended? You have a right
+to do what you like here."
+
+"Ah, but I do not forget that it is _your_ home, Braden, not mine. It will
+always be home to you, and I fear it can never be that to me. This is not
+much in the way of a library now, I confess. Thirty cases of books are
+safely stored away,--all of those old first editions and things of that
+sort. They meant nothing to me. I don't know what a first edition is, and
+I never could see any sense in those funny things he called missals, nor
+the incunabula, if that's the way you pronounce it. You may have liked
+them, Braden. If you care for them, if you would like to have them in your
+own house, you must let me _lend_ them to you. Everybody borrows books,
+you know. It would be quite an original idea to lend a whole library,
+wouldn't it? If you--"
+
+"They are better off in the storage warehouse," he interrupted, trying to
+steel himself against her rather plaintive friendliness.
+
+"Don't you intend to shake hands with me?" she asked suddenly. "I am so
+glad that you have come home,--come back, I mean,--and--" She advanced with
+her hand extended.
+
+It was a perilous moment for both of them when she laid her hand in his.
+The blood in both of them leaped to the thrill of contact. The impulse to
+clasp her in his arms, to smother her with kisses, to hold her so close
+that nothing could ever unlock his arms, was so overpowering that his head
+swam dizzily and for an instant he was deprived of vision. How he ever
+passed through that crisis in safety was one of the great mysteries of his
+life. She was his for the taking! She was ready.
+
+Their hands fell apart. A chill swept through the veins of both,--the ice-
+cold chill of a great reaction. They would go on loving each other,
+wanting each other, perhaps forever, but a moment like the one just past
+would never come again. Bliss, joy, complete satisfaction might come, but
+that instant of longing could never be surpassed.
+
+He was very white. For a long time he could not trust himself to speak.
+The fight was a hard one, and it was not yet over. She was a challenge to
+all that he tried to master. He wondered why there was a smile in her
+lovely, soft eyes, while in his own there must have been the hardness of
+steel. And he wondered long afterward how she could have possessed the
+calmness to say:
+
+"Simmy must have been insane with joy. He has talked of nothing else for
+days."
+
+But he did not know that in her secret heart she was crying out in
+ecstasy: "God, how I love him--and _how he loves me_!"
+
+"He is a good old scout," said he lamely, hardly conscious of the words.
+Then abruptly: "I can't stay, Anne. I came down to tell you that--that I
+was a dog to say what I did in my note to you. I knew the construction you
+would put upon the--well, the injunction. It wasn't fair. I led you to
+believe that if you came down here to live that sometime I would--"
+
+"Just a moment, Braden," she interrupted, steadily. "You are finding it
+very difficult to say just the right thing to me. Let me help you, please.
+I fear that I have a more ready tongue than you and certainly I am less
+agitated. I confess that your note decided me. I confess that I believed
+my coming here to live would result in--well, forgiveness is as good a word
+as any at this time. Now you have come to me to say that I have nothing to
+gain by living in this house, that I have nothing to gain by living in a
+place which revolts and terrifies me,--not always, but at times. Well, you
+may spare yourself the pain of saying all that to me. I shall continue to
+live here, even though nothing comes of it, as you say. I shall continue
+to sit here in this rather enchanting place and wait for you to come and
+share it with me. If you--"
+
+"Good God! That is just what I am trying to tell you that I cannot--"
+
+"I know, I know," she broke in impatiently. "That is just what you are
+trying to tell me, and this is just what I am trying to tell you. I do not
+say that you will ever come to me here, Braden. I am only saying to you
+that I shall wait for you. If you do not come, that is your affair, not
+mine. I love you. I love you with every bit of selfishness that is in my
+soul, every bit of goodness that is in my heart, and every bit of badness
+that is in my blood. I am proud to tell you that I am selfish in this one
+respect, if no longer in any other. I would give up everything else in the
+world to have you. That is how selfish I am. I want to be happy and I
+selfishly want you to be happy--for my sake if not for your own. Do you
+suppose that I am glorifying myself by living here? Do you suppose that I
+am justifying myself? If you do, you are very greatly mistaken. I am here
+because you led me to believe that--that things might be altered if I--" Her
+lips trembled despite the brave countenance she presented to him. In a
+second she had quelled the threatened weakness. "I have made this house a
+paradise. I have made it a place in which you may find happiness if you
+care to seek for it here. At night I shudder and cringe, because I am the
+coward you would try to reform. I hide nothing from myself. I am afraid to
+be alone in this house. But I shall stay--I shall stay."
+
+"Do you think that I could ever find happiness in this house--now?" he
+demanded hoarsely.
+
+"Do you expect to find happiness anywhere else, Braden?" she asked, a
+little break in her voice.
+
+"No. I shall never find happiness anywhere else,--real happiness, I mean. I
+cannot be happy without you, Anne."
+
+"Nor I without you," she said simply. "I don't see that it makes very much
+difference _where_ we choose to be unhappy, Braden, so I shall take mine
+here,--where it is likely to be complete."
+
+"But that is just what I don't want you to do," he cried angrily. "I don't
+want you to stay here. You must leave this place. You have had hell
+enough. I insist that you--"
+
+"No use arguing," she said, shaking her head. "I can love you here as well
+as anywhere else, and that is all I care for,--just my love for you."
+
+"God, what a cruel thing love is, after all. If there was no such thing as
+love, we could--"
+
+"Don't say that!" she cried out sharply. "Love is everything. It conquers
+everything. It is both good and evil. It makes happiness and it makes
+misery. Braden,--oh, my dearest!--see what it has made for us? Love! Why,
+don't you know it is Love that we love? _We love Love._ I would not love
+you if you were not Love itself. I treated you abominably, but you still
+love me. You performed an act of mercy for the man you loved, and he loved
+you. You cursed me in your heart, and I still love you. We cannot escape
+love, my friend. It rules us,--it rules all of us. The thing that you say
+stands between us--that act of mercy, dearest,--what effect has it had upon
+either of us? I would come to you to-morrow, to-day,--this very hour if you
+asked me to do so, and not in all the years that are left to me would I
+see the shadow you shrink from."
+
+"The shadow extends back a great deal farther, Anne," he said, closing his
+eyes as if in pain. "It began long before my grandfather found the peace
+which I have yet to find. It began when you sold yourself to him."
+
+She shrank slightly. "But even that did not kill your love for me," she
+cried out, defensively. "I did not sell my love,--just my soul, if you must
+have a charge against me. I've got it back, thank God, and it is worth a
+good deal more to me to-day than it was when Mr. Thorpe bargained for it.
+Two million dollars!" She spoke ironically, yet with great seriousness.
+"If he could have bought my love for that amount, his bargain would have
+been a good one. If I were to discover now that you do not care for me,
+Braden, and if I could buy your love, which is the most precious thing in
+the world to me, I would not hesitate a second to pay out every dollar I
+have in--"
+
+"Stop!" he cried eagerly, drawing a step nearer and fixing her with
+a look that puzzled and yet thrilled her. "Would you give up
+everything--everything, mind you,--if I were to ask you to do so?"
+
+"You said something like that a few months ago," she said, after a
+moment's hesitation. There was a troubled, hunted look in her eyes, as of
+a creature at bay. "You make it hard for me, Braden. I don't believe I
+could give up everything. I have found that all this money does not give
+me happiness. It does provide me with comfort, with independence, with a
+certain amount of power. It does not bring me the thing I want more than
+anything else in the world, however. Still I cannot say to you now that I
+would willingly give it up, Braden. You would not ask it of me, of course.
+You are too fair and big--"
+
+"But it is exactly what I would ask of you, Anne," he said earnestly, "if
+it came to an issue. You could not be anything more to me than you are now
+if you retained a dollar of that money."
+
+She drew a long, deep breath. "Would you take me back, Braden,--would you
+let me be your wife if I--if I were to give up all that I received from Mr.
+Thorpe?" She was watching his face closely, ready to seize upon the
+slightest expression that might direct her course, now or afterwards.
+
+"I--I--Oh, Anne, we must not harass ourselves like this," he groaned. "It is
+all so hopeless, so useless. It never can be, so what is the use in
+talking about it?"
+
+She now appeared to be a little more sure of her ground. There was a note
+of confidence in her voice as she said: "In that event, it can do no harm
+for me to say that I do not believe I could give it up, Braden."
+
+"You _wouldn't_?"
+
+"If I were to give up all this money, Braden dear, I would prove myself to
+be the most selfish creature in the world."
+
+"Selfish? Good Lord! It would be the height of self-denial. It--"
+
+"When a woman wants something so much that she will give up everything in
+the world to get it, I claim that she is selfish to the last degree. She
+gratifies self, and there is no other way to look at it. And I will admit
+to you now, Braden, that if there is no other way, I will give up all this
+money. That may represent to you just how much I think of _self_. But,"
+and she smiled confidently, "I don't intend to impoverish myself if I can
+help it, and I don't believe you are selfish enough to ask it of me."
+
+"Would you call Lutie selfish?" he demanded. "She gave up everything for
+George."
+
+"Lutie is impulsive. She did it voluntarily. No one demanded it of her.
+She was not obliged to give back a penny, you must remember. My case is
+different. You would demand a sacrifice of me. Lutie did not sell herself
+in the beginning. She sold George. She bought him back. If George was
+worth thirty thousand dollars to her, you are worth two millions to me.
+She gave her _all_, and that would be my _all_. She was willing to pay. Am
+I? That is the question."
+
+"You would have to give it up, Anne," said he doggedly.
+
+He saw the colour fade from her cheeks, and the lustre from her eyes.
+
+"I am not sure that I could do it, Braden," she said, after a long
+silence. Then, almost fiercely: "Will you tell me how I should go about
+getting rid of all this money,--sensibly,--if I were inclined to do so? What
+could I do with it? Throw it away? Destroy it? Burn--"
+
+"There isn't much use discussing ways and means," he said with finality in
+his manner. "I'm sorry we brought the subject up. I came here with a very
+definite object in view, and we--well, you see what we have come to."
+
+"Oh, I--I love you so!" came tremulously from her lips. "I love you so,
+Braden. I--I don't see how I can go on living without--" She suppressed the
+wild, passionate words by deliberately clapping her hands, one above the
+other, over her lips. Red surged to her brow and a look of exquisite shame
+and humiliation leaped into her eyes.
+
+"Anne, Anne--" he began, but she turned on him furiously.
+
+"Why do you lie to me? Why do you lie to yourself? You came here to-day
+because you were mad with the desire to see me, to be near me, to--Oh, you
+need not deny it! You have been crying out for me ever since the day you
+last held me in your arms and kissed me,--ages ago!--just as I have been
+crying out for you. Don't say that you came here merely to tell me that I
+must not live in this house if it leads me to hope for--recompense. Don't
+say that, because it is not the real reason, and you know it. You would
+have remained in Europe if you were through with me, as you would have
+yourself believe. But you are not through with me. You never will be. If
+you cannot be fair with yourself, Braden, you should at least be fair with
+me. You should not have come here to-day. But you could not help it, you
+could not resist. It will always be like this, and it is not fair, it is
+not fair. You say we never can be married to each other. What is there
+left for us, I ask of you,--what will all this lead to? We are not saints.
+We are not made of stone. We--"
+
+"God in heaven, Anne," he cried, aghast and incredulous. "Do you know what
+you are saying? Do you think I would drag you down, despoil you--"
+
+"Oh, you would be honest enough to marry me--_then_," she cried out
+bitterly. "Your sense of honour would attend to all that. You--"
+
+"Stop!" he commanded, standing over her as she shrank back against the
+wall. "Do you think that I love you so little that I could--Love? Is that
+the kind of love that you have been extolling to the skies?"
+
+She covered her flaming face with her hands. "Forgive me, forgive me!" she
+murmured, brokenly. "I am so ashamed of myself."
+
+He was profoundly moved. A great pity for her swept through him. "I shall
+not come again," he said hoarsely. "I will be fair. You are right. You see
+more clearly than I can see. I must not come to you again unless I come to
+ask you to be my wife. You are right. We would go mad with--"
+
+"Listen to me, Braden," she interrupted in a strangely quiet manner. "I
+shall never ask you to come to me. If you want me you must ask me to come
+to you. I will come. But you are to impose no conditions. You must leave
+me to fight out my own battle. My love is so great, so honest, so strong
+that it will triumph over everything else. Listen! Let me say this to you
+before I send you away from me to-day. Love is relentless. It wrecks
+homes, it sends men to the gallows and women to the madhouse. It makes
+drunkards, suicides and murderers of noble men and women. It causes men
+and women to abandon homes, children, honour--and all the things that
+should be dear to them. It impoverishes, corrupts and--defiles. It makes
+cowards of brave men and brave men of cowards. The thing we call love has
+a thousand parts. It has purity, nobility, grandeur, greed, envy,
+lust--everything. You have heard of good women abandoning good husbands for
+bad lovers. You have heard of good mothers giving up the children they
+worship. You have heard of women and men murdering husbands and wives in
+order to remove obstacles from the path of love. One woman whom we both
+know recently gave up wealth, position, honour, children,--everything,--to
+go down into poverty and disgrace with the man she loved. You know who I
+mean. She did it because she could not help herself. Opposed to the evil
+that love can do, there is always the beautiful, the sweet, the pure,--and
+it is that kind of love that rules the world. But the other kind _is_
+love, just the same, and while it does not govern the world, it is none
+the less imperial. What I want to say to you is this: while love may
+govern the world, the world cannot govern love. You cannot govern this
+love you have for me, although you may control it. Nor can I destroy the
+love I have for you. I may not deserve your love, but I have it and you
+cannot take it away from me. Some other woman may rob me of it, perhaps,
+but you cannot do it, my friend. I will wait for you to come and get me,
+Braden. Now, go,--please go,--and do not come here again until--" she smiled
+faintly.
+
+He lowered his head. "I will not come again, Anne," he said huskily.
+
+She did not follow him to the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+Anne left town about the middle of June and did not return until late in
+September. She surprised every one who knew her by going to Nova Scotia,
+where she took a cottage in one of the quaint old coast towns. Lutie and
+George and the baby spent the month of August with her. Near the close of
+their visit, Anne made an announcement that, for one day at least, caused
+them to doubt, very gravely, whether she was in her right mind. George,
+very much perturbed, went so far as to declare to Lutie in the seclusion
+of their bedroom that night, that Anne was certainly dotty. And the queer
+part of it all was that he couldn't, for the life of him, feel sorry about
+it!
+
+The next morning they watched her closely, at times furtively, and waited
+for her to either renounce the decision of the day before or reveal some
+sign that she had no recollection of having made the astounding statement
+at all,--in which case they could be certain that she had been a bit
+flighty and would be in a position to act accordingly. (Get a specialist
+after her, or something like that.) But Anne very serenely discoursed on
+the sweetest sleep she had known in years, and declared she was ready for
+_anything_, even the twelve-mile tramp that George had been trying so hard
+to get her to take with him. Her eyes were brighter, her cheeks rosier
+than they had been for months, and, to George's unbounded amazement, she
+ate a hearty breakfast with them.
+
+"I have written to Simmy," said she, "and James has posted the letter. The
+die is cast. Congratulate me!"
+
+"But, hang it all," cried George desperately, "I still believe you are
+crazy, Anne, so--how can I congratulate you? My Lord, girl--"
+
+He stopped short, for Lutie sprang up from the table and threw her arms
+around Anne. She kissed her rapturously, all the time gurgling something
+into her ear that George could not hear, and perhaps would not have
+understood if he had. Then they both turned toward him, shining-eyed and
+exultant. An instant later he rushed over and enveloped both of them in
+his long, strong arms and shouted out that he was crazy too.
+
+Anne's letter to Simmy was a long one, and she closed it with the
+sentence: "You may expect me not later than the twentieth of September."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Thorpe grew thin and haggard as the summer wore away; his nerves were in
+such a state that he seriously considered giving up his work, for the time
+being, at least. The truth was gradually being forced in upon him that his
+hand was no longer as certain, no longer as steady as it had been. Only by
+exercising the greatest effort of the will was he able to perform the
+delicate work he undertook to do in the hospitals. He was gravely alarmed
+by the ever-growing conviction that he was never sure of himself. Not that
+he had lost confidence in his ability, but he was acutely conscious of
+having lost interest. He was fighting all the time, but it was his own
+fight and not that of others. Day and night he was fighting something that
+would not fight back, and yet was relentless; something that was content
+to sit back in its own power and watch him waste his strength and
+endurance. Each succeeding hour saw him grow weaker under the strain. He
+was fighting the thing that never surrenders, never weakens, never dies.
+He was struggling against a mighty, world-old Giant, born the day that
+God's first man was created, and destined to live with all God's men from
+that time forth: Passion.
+
+Time and again he went far out of his way to pass by the house near
+Washington Square, admittedly surreptitious in his movements. On hot
+nights he rode down Fifth Avenue on the top of the stages, and always cast
+an eye to the right in passing the street in which Anne lived, looking in
+vain for lights in the windows of the closed house. And an hundred times a
+day he thought of the key that no longer kept company with others at the
+end of a chain but lay loose in his trousers' pocket. Times there were
+when an almost irresistible desire came upon him to go down there late at
+night and enter the house, risking discovery by the servants who remained
+in quarters, just for a glimpse of the rooms upstairs she had
+described,--her own rooms,--the rooms in which she dreamed of him.
+
+He affected the society of George and Lutie, spending a great deal of his
+leisure with them, scorning himself the while for the perfectly obvious
+reason that moved him. Automobile jaunts into the country were not
+infrequent. He took them out to the country inns for dinner, to places
+along the New Jersey and Long Island shores, to the show grounds at Coney
+Island. There were times when he could have cursed himself for leading
+them to believe that he was interested only in their affairs and not in
+this affair of his own; times when he realised to the full that he was
+_using_ them to satisfy a certain craving. They were close to Anne in
+every way; they represented her by proxy; they had letters from her
+written in the far-off town in Canada; she loved them, she encouraged
+them, she envied them. And they talked of her,--how they talked of her!
+
+More than all else, George and Lutie personified Love. They represented
+love triumphant over all. Their constancy had been rewarded, and the odds
+had been great against it. He was contented and happy when near them, for
+they gave out love, they radiated it, they lived deep in the heart of it.
+He craved the company of these serene, unselfish lovers because they were
+brave and strong and inspiring. He fed hungrily on their happiness, and he
+honestly tried to pay them for what they gave to him.
+
+He was glad to hear that George was going into a new and responsible
+position in the fall,--a six thousand dollar a year job in the office of a
+big manufacturing company. He rejoiced not because George was going ahead
+so splendidly but because his advancement was a justification of Anne's
+faith in her seemingly unworthy brother,--and, moreover, there was
+distinctly something to be said for the influence of love.
+
+When George's family departed for the north, Thorpe was like a lost soul.
+In the first week of their absence, he found himself more than once on the
+point of throwing everything aside and rushing off after them. His
+scruples, his principles, his resolutions were shaken in the mighty grasp
+of despair. There were to be no more letters, and, worse than all else,
+she would not be lonely!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One day late in August Simmy Dodge burst in upon him. He had motored in
+from Southampton and there was proof that he had not dallied along the
+way. His haste in exploding in Thorpe's presence was evidence of an
+unrestrained eagerness to have it over with.
+
+"My God!" he shouted, tugging at his goggles with nervous hands from which
+he had forgotten to remove his gloves. "You've got to put a stop to this
+sort of thing. It can't go on. She must be crazy,--stark, raving crazy. You
+must not let her do this--"
+
+"What the devil are you talking about?" gasped Thorpe, acutely alarmed by
+the little man's actions, to say nothing of his words, which under other
+circumstances might have been at least intelligent.
+
+"Anne! Why, she's--What do you think she's going to do? Or maybe you know
+already. Maybe you've put her up to this idiotic--Say, what _do_ you know
+about it?" He was glaring at his friend. The goggles rested on the floor
+in a far corner of the consultation-room.
+
+"In heaven's name, Simmy, cool off! I haven't the remotest idea of what
+you are talking about. What has happened?"
+
+"Nothing has happened yet. And it mustn't happen at all. You've got to
+stop her. She has threatened to do it before, and now she comes out flat-
+footed and says she's going to do it,--absolutely, irrevocably, positively.
+Is that plain enough for you? Absolutely, irrev--"
+
+"Would you mind telling me what she is going to do?"
+
+Simmy sat down rather abruptly and wiped his moist, dust-blackened brow.
+
+"She's going to give away every damned nickel of that money she got from
+old Mr. Thorpe,--every damned nickel of it, do you hear? My God! She _is_
+crazy, Brady. We've got to put her in a sanitarium--or torium--as soon as we
+can get hold of--Hi! Look out!"
+
+Thorpe had leaped forward and was shaking him furiously by the shoulders.
+His eyes were wide and gleaming.
+
+"Say that again! Say it again!" he shouted.
+
+"Say it, damn you, Simmy! Can't you see that I want you to say it again--"
+
+"Say--it--again," chattered Simmy. "Let go! How the dickens can I say
+anything with you mauling me all over the--"
+
+"I'm sorry! I will--try to be sensible--and quiet. Now, go on, old
+chap,--tell me all there is to tell." He sank into a chair and leaned
+forward, watching every expression that crossed his friend's face--watching
+with an intensity that finally got on Simmy's nerves.
+
+"She wrote me,--I got the letter yesterday,--Lordy, what did I do with it?
+Never mind. I'll look for it later on. I can remember nearly every word,
+so it doesn't matter. She says she has made up her mind to give all that
+money to charity. Some darned nonsense about never knowing happiness as
+long as she has the stuff in her possession. Absolute idiocy! Wants me to
+handle the matter for her. Lawyer, and all that sort of thing, you see. I
+know what the game is, and so do you. She'd sooner have you than all that
+money. By Gosh! I--here's something I never thought of before." He paused
+and wiped his brow, utter bewilderment in his eyes. "It has just occurred
+to me that I'd sooner have Anne than all the money I've got. I've said
+that to myself a thousand times and--But that has nothing to do with the
+case. Lordy, it gave me a shock for a second or two, though. Seems to
+knock my argument all to smash. Still there _is_ a difference. I didn't
+_earn_ my money. Where was I? Oh, yes,--er--she's got the idea into her head
+that she can never be anything to you until she gets rid of that money.
+Relief fund! Red Cross! Children's Welfare! Tuberculosis camps! All of
+'em! Great snakes! Every nickel! Can you beat it? Now, there's just one
+way to stop this confounded nonsense. You can do it, and you've got to
+come to the mark."
+
+Thorpe was breathing fast, his eyes were glowing. "But suppose that I fail
+to regard it as confounded nonsense. Suppose--"
+
+"Will you marry Anne Thorpe if she gives up this money?" demanded Simmy
+sharply.
+
+"That has nothing to do with Anne's motives," said Thorpe grimly. "She
+wants to give it up because it is burning her soul, Simmy."
+
+"Rats! You make me sick, talking like that. She is giving it up for your
+sake and not because her soul is even uncomfortably hot. Now, I want to
+see you two patch things up, cut out the nonsense, and get married,--but I
+don't intend to see Anne make a fool of herself if I can help it. That
+money is Anne's. The house is hers. The--By the way, she says she intends
+to _keep_ the house. But how in God's name is she going to maintain it if
+she hasn't a dollar in the world? Think the Red Cross will help her when
+she begins to starve down there--"
+
+"I shall do nothing to stop her, Simmy," said Thorpe firmly. "If she has
+made up her mind to give all that money to charity, it is her affair, not
+mine. God knows the Red Cross Society and the Relief Funds need it now
+more than ever before. I'll tell you what I think of Anne Tresslyn's
+sacri--"
+
+"Anne Thorpe, if you please."
+
+"She _hates_--do you hear?--_hates_ the money that my grandfather gave to
+her. It hurts her in more ways than you can ever suspect. Her honour, her
+pride, her peace of mind--all of them and more. She sold me out, and she
+hates the price she received. It is something deeper with her than mere--"
+
+"You are wrong," broke in Simmy, suddenly calm. He leaned forward and laid
+his hand on Thorpe's knee. "She wants you more than anything else in the
+world. You are worth more to her than all the money ever coined. It is no
+real sacrifice, the way she feels about it now, but--listen to me! I am not
+going to stand idly by and see her make herself as poor as Job's turkey
+unless I know--positively know, do you hear,--that she is not to lose out
+entirely. You've just got to say one thing or the other, Brady, before
+it's too late. If she does all this for you, what will you do for her?"
+
+Thorpe got up from his chair and began pacing the office, his lips
+compressed, his eyes lowered. At last he stopped in front of Simmy.
+
+"If I were you, Simmy, I would tell her at once that--it will be of no
+avail."
+
+Simmy glowered to the best of his ability. "Have you never asked her to
+make this sacrifice? Have you never given her a ray of hope on which--"
+
+"Yes,--I will be honest with you,--I asked her if she _could_ give it up."
+
+"There you are!" said Simmy triumphantly. "I was pretty sure you had said
+something--"
+
+"My God, Simmy, I--I don't know what to do," groaned Thorpe, throwing
+himself into a chair and staring miserably into the eyes of his friend.
+
+"There is just one thing you are not to do," said the other gently. "You
+are not to let her do this thing unless you are prepared to meet her half-
+way. If she does her half, you must do yours. I am looking out for her
+interests now, old chap, and I mean to see that she gets fair play. You
+have no right to let her make this sacrifice unless you are ready to do
+your part."
+
+"Then say to her for me that she must keep the money, every penny of it."
+
+Simmy was staggered. "But she--she doesn't want it," he muttered, lamely.
+His face brightened. "I say, old boy, why let the measly money stand in
+the way? Take her and the money too. Don't be so darned finicky about--"
+
+"Come, come, old fellow," protested Thorpe, eyeing him coldly.
+
+"All right," said Simmy resignedly. "I'll say no more along that line. But
+I'm going to make you give her a square deal. This money is hers. She
+bargained for it, and it belongs to her. She sha'n't throw it away if I
+can help it. I came here to ask you to use your influence, to help me and
+to help her. You say that she is to keep the money. That means--there's no
+other chance for her?"
+
+"She knows how I feel about it," said Thorpe doggedly.
+
+"I'll tell her just what you've said. But suppose that she insists on
+going ahead with this idiotic scheme of hers? Suppose she really hates the
+money and wants to get rid of it, just as she says? Suppose this is no
+part of a plan to reconcile--Well, you see what I mean. What then? What's
+to become of her?"
+
+"I don't know," said Thorpe dully. "I don't know."
+
+"She will be practically penniless, Brady. Her mother will not help her.
+God, how Mrs. Tresslyn will rage when she hears of this! Lordy, Lordy!"
+
+Thorpe leaned back in the chair and covered his eyes with his hands. For a
+long time he sat thus, scarcely breathing. Simmy watched him in
+perplexity.
+
+"It would be awful to see Anne Tresslyn penniless," said the little man
+finally, a queer break in his voice. "She's a fair fighter, my boy. She
+doesn't whimper. She made her mistake and she's willing to pay. One
+couldn't ask more than that of any one. It means a good deal for her to
+chuck all this money. I don't want her to do it. I'm fond of her, Brady.
+I, for one, can't bear the thought of her going about in rummy old clothes
+and--well, that's just what it will come to--unless she marries some one
+else."
+
+The hands fell from Thorpe's eyes suddenly. "She will not marry any one
+else," he exclaimed. "What do you mean? What have you heard? Is there--"
+
+"My Lord, you don't expect the poor girl to remain single all the rest of
+her life just to please you, do you?" roared Simmy, springing to his feet.
+"You must not forget that she is young and very beautiful and she'll
+probably be very poor. And God knows there are plenty of us who would like
+to marry her!" He took a turn or two up and down the room and then stopped
+before Thorpe, in whose eyes there was a new and desperate anxiety, born
+of alarm. "She wants me to arrange matters so that she can begin turning
+over this money soon after she comes down in September. She hasn't touched
+the principal. If she sticks to her intention, I'll have to do it. Here is
+her letter. I'll read it to you. George and Lutie know everything, and she
+is writing to her mother, she says. Not a word about you, however. Now,
+listen to what she says, and--for God's sake, _do something_!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+
+Anne's strictest injunction to Simmy Dodge bore upon the anonymity of the
+contributions to the various specified charities. Huge sums were to be
+delivered at stated intervals, covering a period of six months. At the end
+of that period she would have contributed the whole of her fortune to
+charity and, through its agencies, to humanity. The only obligation
+demanded in return from any of these organisations was a pledge of
+secrecy, and from this pledge there was to be no release until such time
+as the donor herself announced her willingness to make public the nature
+and extent of her benefactions. It was this desire to avoid publicity that
+appealed most strongly to Thorpe. As for poor Simmy,--he could not
+understand it at all.
+
+Grimly, Anne's lover refused to interfere with her plans. He went about
+his work from that day on, however, with a feverish eagerness and zest,
+and an exaltation that frequently lifted him to a sort of glory that he
+could neither define nor deny. There were moments when he slipped far back
+into the depths, and cursed himself for rejoicing in the sacrifice she was
+apparently so willing to make. And at such times he found that he had to
+resist an impulse that was almost overwhelming in its force: the impulse
+to rush down to her and cry out that the sacrifice was not necessary!
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn came to see him shortly after Anne's return to the city. She
+was humble. When she was announced, he prepared himself for a bitter
+scene. But she was not bitter, she was not furious; on the contrary, she
+was gentler than he had ever known her to be.
+
+"If you do not take her now, Braden," she said in the course of their
+brief interview, "I do not know what will become of her. I blame myself
+for everything, of course. It was I who allowed her to go into that
+unhappy business of getting Mr. Thorpe's money, and I _am_ to blame. I
+should have allowed her to marry you in the beginning. I should not have
+been deceived by the cleverness of your amiable grandfather. But, you see
+I counted on something better than this for her. I thought,--and she
+thought as well,--that she could one day have both you and the money. It is
+a pretty hard thing to say, isn't it? I saw her to-day. She is quite
+happy,--really it seems to me she was radiantly happy this morning. Simmy
+has arranged for the first instalment of five hundred thousand dollars to
+be paid over to-morrow. She herself has selected the securities that are
+to make up this initial payment. They are the best of the lot, Simmy tells
+me. In a few months she will be penniless. I don't know what is to become
+of her, Braden, if you do not take her when all this absurd business is
+over. You love her and she loves you. Both of you should hate me, but
+Anne, for one, does not. She is sorrier for me than she is for herself. Of
+course, you are to understand one thing, Braden." She lifted her chin
+proudly. "She may return to me at any time. My home is hers. She shall
+never want for anything that I am able to give her. She is my daughter
+and--well, you are to understand that I shall stand by her, no matter what
+she does. I have but one object in coming to see you to-day. I need not
+put it into words."
+
+A few days later Simmy came in, drooping. "Well, the first half-million is
+gone. Next month another five hundred thousand goes. I hope you are happy,
+Brady."
+
+"I hope Anne is happy," was all that Thorpe said in response.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+No word came to him from Anne. She was as silent as the sphinx. Not a day
+passed that did not find him running eagerly,--hopefully,--through his mail,
+looking for the letter he hoped for and was sure that eventually she would
+write to him. But no letter came. The only news he had of her was obtained
+through Simmy, who kept him acquainted with the progress of his client's
+affairs, forgetting quite simply the admonition concerning secrecy.
+
+Thorpe virtually abandoned his visits to the home of the young Tresslyns.
+He had them out to dinner and the theatre occasionally. They talked quite
+freely with him about the all-important topic, and seemed not to be
+unhappy or unduly exercised over the step Anne had taken. In fact, George
+was bursting with pride in his sister. Apparently he had no other thought
+than that everything would turn out right and fair for her in the end. But
+the covert, anxious, analysing look in Lutie's eyes was always present and
+it was disconcerting.
+
+He avoided the little flat in which he had spent so many happy, and in a
+sense profitable hours, and they appreciated his reason for doing so. They
+kept their own counsel. He had no means of knowing that Anne Thorpe's
+visits were but little more frequent than his.
+
+Anne's silence, her persistent aloofness, began to irritate him at last.
+Weeks had passed since her return to the city and she had given no sign.
+He had long since ceased his sly pilgrimages to the neighbourhood of
+Washington Square. Now as the days grew shorter and the nights infinitely
+longer, he was conscious, first, of a distinct feeling of resentment
+toward her, and later on of an acute sense of uneasiness. The long, dreary
+hours of darkness fed him with reflections that kept him awake most of the
+night, and only his iron will held his hand and nerves steady during the
+days between the black seasons. The theatre palled on him, books failed to
+hold his attention, people annoyed him. He could not concentrate his
+thoughts on study; his mind was forever journeying. What was she doing?
+Every minute of the day he was asking that question of himself. It was in
+the printed pages of the books he read; it was on the lips of every
+lecturer he listened to; it was placarded on every inch of scenery in the
+theatre,--always: "Where is she to-night? What is she doing?"
+
+And then, at last, one cold, rainy night in late November he resumed his
+stealthy journeys to lower Fifth Avenue atop of the stage, protected by a
+thick ulster and hidden as well as he could be in the shelter of a rigidly
+grasped umbrella. Alighting in front of the Brevoort, he slunk rather than
+sauntered up the Avenue until he came to the cross-town street in which
+she lived,--in which he once had lived. It was a fair night for such an
+adventure as this. There were but few people abroad. The rain was falling
+steadily and there was a gusty wind. He had left his club at ten o'clock,
+and all the way down the Avenue he was alone on the upper deck of the
+stage. Afterwards he chuckled guiltily to himself as he recalled the odd
+stare with which the conductor favoured him when he jestingly inquired if
+there was "any room aloft."
+
+Walking down the street toward Sixth Avenue, he peered out from beneath
+the umbrella as he passed his grandfather's house across the way. There
+were lights downstairs. A solitary taxi-cab stood in front of the house.
+He quickened his pace. He did not want to charge himself with spying. A
+feeling of shame and mortification came over him as he hurried along; his
+face burned. He was not acting like a man, but as a love-sick, jealous
+school-boy would have behaved. And yet all the way up Sixth Avenue to
+Fifty-ninth Street,--he walked the entire distance,--he wondered why he had
+not waited to see who came forth from Anne's house to enter the taxi-cab.
+
+For a week he stubbornly resisted the desire to repeat the trip down-town.
+In the meantime, Simmy had developed into a most unsatisfactory informant.
+He suddenly revealed an astonishing streak of uncommunicativeness, totally
+unnatural in him and tantalising in the extreme. He rarely mentioned
+Anne's name and never discussed her movements. Thorpe was obliged to
+content himself with an occasional word from Lutie,--who was also painfully
+reticent,--and now and then a scrap of news in the society columns of the
+newspapers. Once he saw her in the theatre. She was with other people, all
+of whom he knew. One of them was Percy Wintermill. He began on that night
+to hate Wintermill. The scion of the Wintermill family sat next to Anne
+and there was nothing in his manner to indicate that he had resigned
+himself to defeat in the lists.
+
+If Anne saw him she did not betray the fact. He waited outside for a
+fairer glimpse of her as she left the theatre. What he saw at close range
+from his carefully chosen position was not calculated to relieve his mind.
+She appeared to be quite happy. There was nothing in her appearance or in
+her manner to indicate that she suffered,--and he _wanted_ her to suffer as
+he was suffering. That night he did not close his eyes.
+
+He had said to her that he would never marry her even though she gave up
+the money she had received from his grandfather, and she had said--how well
+he remembered!--that if George was worth thirty thousand dollars to Lutie,
+which was her _all_,--he was worth two millions to her, and her _all_. She
+was paying for him now, just as Lutie had paid for George, only in Lutie's
+case there was the assurance that the sacrifice would bring its own
+consolation and reward. Anne was going ahead blindly, trusting to an
+uncertainty. She had his word for it that the sacrifice would bring no
+reward through him, and yet she persisted in the vain enterprise. She had
+likened herself, in a sense, to Lutie, and now he was beginning to think
+of himself as he had once thought of George Tresslyn!
+
+He recalled his pitying scorn for the big, once useless boy during that
+long period of dog-like watchfulness over the comings and goings of the
+girl he loved. He had felt sorry for him and yet pleased with him. There
+was something admirable in the stubborn, drunken loyalty of George
+Tresslyn,--a loyalty that never wavered even though there was no such thing
+as hope ahead of him.
+
+As time went on, Thorpe, the sound, sober, indomitable Thorpe,--began to
+encourage himself with the thought that he too might sink to the
+extremities through which George had passed,--and be as simple and as firm
+in his weakness as the other had been! He too might stand in dark places
+and watch, he too might slink behind like a thing in the night. Only in
+his case the conditions would be reversed. He would be fighting conviction
+and not hope, for he knew he had but to walk into Anne's presence and
+speak,--and the suspense would be over. She was waiting for him. It was he
+who would have to surrender, not she.
+
+He fought desperately with himself; the longing to see her, to be near
+her, to test his vaunted self-control, never for an instant subsided. He
+fought the harder because he was always asking himself why he fought at
+all. Why should he not take what belonged to him? Why should he deny
+himself happiness when it was so much to be desired and so easy to obtain?
+
+But always when he was nearest to the breaking point, and the rush of
+feeling was at flood, there crept up beside him the shadow that threatened
+his very existence and hers. He had taken the life of her husband. He had
+no right to her. Down in his heart he knew that there was no moral ground
+for the position he took and from which he could not extricate himself. He
+had committed no crime. There had been no thought of himself in that
+solemn hour when he delivered his best friend out of bondage. Anne had no
+qualms, and he knew her to be a creature of fine feelings. She had always
+revolted against the unlovely aspects of life, and all this despite the
+claim she made that love would survive the most unholy of oppressions.
+What was it then that _he_ was afraid of? What was it that made him hold
+back while love tugged so violently, so persistently at his heart-strings?
+
+At times he had flashes of the thing that created the shadow, and it was
+then that he grasped, in a way, the true cause of his fears. Back of
+everything he realised there was the most uncanny of superstitions. He
+could not throw off the feeling that his grandfather, in his grave, still
+had his hand lifted against his marriage with Anne Tresslyn; that the
+grim, loving old man still regarded himself as a safeguard against the
+connivings of Anne!
+
+His common sense, of course, resisted this singular notion. He had but to
+recall his grandfather's praise of Anne just before he went to his death.
+Surely that signified an altered opinion of the girl, and no doubt there
+was in his heart during those last days of life, a very deep, if puzzled,
+admiration for her. And yet, despite the conviction that his grandfather,
+had he been pressed for a definite statement would have declared himself
+as being no longer opposed to his marriage with Anne, there still remained
+the fact that he had gone to his grave without a word to show that he
+regarded his experiment as a failure. And he had gone to his grave in a
+manner that left no room for doubt that his death was to stand always as
+an obstacle in the path of the lovers. There were times when Braden Thorpe
+could have cursed his grandfather for the cruel cunning to which he had
+resorted in the end.
+
+He could not free himself of the ridiculous, distorted and oft-recurring
+notion that his grandfather was watching him from beyond the grave, nor
+were all his scientific convictions sufficient to dispel the fear that men
+live after death and govern the destinies of those who remain.
+
+But through all of these vain struggles, his love for Anne grew stronger,
+more overpowering. He was hollow-eyed and gaunt, ravenous with the hunger
+of love. A spectre of his former self, he watched himself starve with
+sustenance at hand. Bountiful love lay within his grasp and yet he
+starved. Full, rich pastures spread out before him wherein he could roam
+to the end of his days, blissfully gorging himself,--and yet he starved.
+And Anne, who dwelt in those elysian pastures, was starving too!
+
+Once more he wavered and again he fell. He found himself at midnight
+standing at the corner above Anne's home, staring at the darkened
+unresponsive windows. Three nights passed before he resumed the hateful
+vigil. This time there were lights. And from that time on, he went almost
+nightly to the neighbourhood of Washington Square, regardless of weather
+or inconvenience. He saw her come and go, night after night, and he saw
+people enter the house to which he held a key,--always he saw from obscure
+points of vantage and with the stealth and caution of a malefactor.
+
+He came to realise in course of time that she was not at peace with
+herself, notwithstanding a certain assumption of spiritedness with which
+she fared into the world with others. At first he was deceived by
+appearances, but later on he knew that she was not the happy, interested
+creature she affected to be when adventuring forth in search of pleasure.
+He observed that she tripped lightly down the steps on leaving the house,
+and that she ascended them slowly, wearily, almost reluctantly on her
+return, far in the night. He invariably waited for the lights to appear in
+the shaded windows of her room upstairs, and then he would hurry away as
+if pursued. Once, after roaming the streets for two hours following her
+return to the house, he wended his way back to the spot from which he had
+last gazed at her windows. To his surprise the lights were still burning.
+After that he never left the neighbourhood until he saw that the windows
+were dark, and more often than otherwise the lights did not go out until
+two or three o'clock in the morning. The significance of these nightly
+indications of sleeplessness on her part did not escape him.
+
+Bitterly cold and blustering were some of the nights. He sought warmth and
+shelter from time to time in the near-by cafés, always returning to his
+post when the call became irresistible. It was his practice to go to the
+cheap and lowly cafés, places where he was not likely to be known despite
+his long residence in the community. He did not drink. It had, of course,
+occurred to him that he might find solace in resorting to the cup that
+cheers, but never for an instant was he tempted to do so. He was too
+strong for that!
+
+Curiosity led him one night to the restaurant of Josiah Wade. He did not
+enter, but stood outside peering through the window. It was late at night
+and old Wade was closing the place. A young woman whom Thorpe took to be
+his wife was chatting amiably with a stalwart youth near the cash
+register. He did not fail to observe the furtive, shifty glances that Wade
+shot out from under his bushy eyebrows in the direction of the couple.
+
+He knew, through Simmy, that the last of Templeton Thorpe's money would
+soon pass from Anne's hands. A million and a half was gone. The time for
+the last to go was rapidly approaching. She would soon be poorer than when
+she entered upon the infamous enterprise. There would still remain to her
+the house in which she lived. It was not a part of the purchase price. It
+was outside of the bargain she had made, and the right to sell it was
+forbidden her. But possesion of it was a liability rather than an asset.
+He wondered what she would do when it came down to the house in which she
+lived.
+
+Again and again he apostrophized himself as follows: "My God, what am I
+coming to? Is this madness? Am I as George Tresslyn was, am I no nobler
+than he? Or was he noble in spite of himself, and am I noble in the same
+sense? If I am mad with love, if I am weak and accursed by consequences,
+why should not she be weaker than I? She is a woman. I am--or was--a man.
+Why should I sink to such a state as this and she remain brave and strong
+and resolute? She keeps away from me, why should I not stay away from her?
+God knows I have tried to resist this thing that she resists, and what
+have I come to? A street loafer, a spy, a sneak, a dog without a master.
+She is doing a big thing, and I am doing the smallest thing that man can
+do. She loves me and longs for me and--Oh, what damned madness is it that
+brings me to loving her and longing for her and yet makes of me a thing so
+much less worthy than she?" And so on by the hour, day and night, he
+cursed himself with questions.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The end came swiftly, resistlessly. She paused at the bottom of the steps
+as the automobile slid off into the chill, windy night. For the first time
+in all his vigil, he noted the absence of the footman who always ran up
+the steps ahead of her to open the door. She was alone to-night. This had
+never happened before. Mystified, he saw her slowly ascend the steps and
+pause before the door. Her body drooped wearily. He waited long for her to
+press the electric button which had taken the place of the ancient knob
+that jangled the bell at the far end of the hall. But she remained
+motionless for what seemed to him an interminable time, and then, to his
+consternation, she leaned against the door and covered her face with her
+hands.
+
+A great weight suddenly was lifted from his soul; a vast exaltation drove
+out everything that had been oppressing him for so long. He was free! He
+was free of the thing that had been driving him to death. Joy, so
+overwhelming in its rush that he almost collapsed as it assailed him,
+swept aside every vestige of resistance,--and, paradox of paradoxes,--made a
+man of him! He was a man and he would--But even as his jaw set and his body
+straightened in its old, dominant strength, she opened the door and passed
+into the dim hall beyond.
+
+He was half across the street when the door closed behind her, but he did
+not pause. His hand came from his pocket and in his rigid fingers he held
+the key to his home--and hers.
+
+At the bottom of the steps he halted. The lights in the drawing-room had
+been switched on. The purpose that filled him now was so great that he
+waited long there, grasping the hand rail, striving to temper his new-
+found strength to the gentleness that was in his heart. The fight was
+over, and he had won--the man of him had won. She was in that room where
+the lights were,--waiting for him. The moment was not far off when she
+would be in his arms. He was suffocating with the thought of the nearness
+of it all!
+
+He mounted the steps. As he came to the top, the door was opened and Anne
+stood there in the warm light of the hall,--a slender, swaying figure in
+something rose-coloured and--and her lips were parted in a wondering,
+enchanted smile. She held out her arms to him.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards.
+2. Frontispiece relocated after copyright page.
+3. Table of Contents added.
+4. Typographic errors corrected in original:
+   p. 102 heared to hearted ("loyal, warm-hearted, enduring creature")
+   p. 193 snovel to snivel ("choke and snivel softly")
+   p. 215 unforgetable to unforgettable ("that unforgettable day")
+   p. 439 "Her saw her" to "He saw her" ("He saw her come and go")
+   p. 440 possesion to possession ("possession of it was a liability")
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's From the Housetops, by George Barr McCutcheon
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of From The Housetops, by George Barr Mccutcheon.
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of From the Housetops, by George Barr McCutcheon
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+Title: From the Housetops
+
+Author: George Barr McCutcheon
+
+Illustrator: F. Graham Cootes
+
+Release Date: June 17, 2006 [EBook #18612]
+Last updated: March 3, 2009
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FROM THE HOUSETOPS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<table width="450" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" border="1">
+  <col style="width:100%;" />
+  <tr>
+    <td align="center">
+<table width="90%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" border="0">
+  <col style="width:100%;" />
+  <tr>
+    <td align="center">
+<span style="font-size: 220%;"><br />FROM THE HOUSETOPS</span><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<span style="font-size: 80%;">BY</span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 100%;">GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON</span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 80%;"><span class="smcap">Author of "Ghaustark," "The Hollow of Her Hand,"<br />
+"The Prince of Graustark," etc.</span></span><br /><br /><br />
+<span style="font-size: 80%;">With Illustrations by</span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 100%;">F. GRAHAM COOTES</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
+  <tr><td>
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 150px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-001" id="illus-001"></a>
+<img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='150' title='' /><br />
+</div>
+</td></tr>
+<tr><td>
+<span style="font-size: 120%;">M. A. DONOHUE &amp; COMPANY</span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 100%;">CHICAGO&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;NEW YORK</span><br /><br /><br />
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class='major'/>
+
+<p style='text-align:center'>
+<span style="font-size: 100%;"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1916</span></span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 100%;"><span class="smcap">By</span> DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC.</span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 100%;"><i>All rights reserved</i></span><br />
+<span style="font-size: 100%;">Made in U.S.A.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<hr class='major'/>
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width: 300px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="illus-002" id="illus-002"></a>
+<img src='images/illus-fp.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br />
+<span class='caption'>"Stop!" he cried eagerly. "Would you give up everything&mdash;everything, mind you,&mdash;if I were to ask you to do so?"</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='major'/>
+
+<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h2>
+<div class="smcap">
+<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<col style="width:80%;" />
+<col style="width:20%;" />
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER I</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER II</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">9</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER III</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">16</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER IV</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">27</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER V</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_V">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER VI</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">57</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER VII</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">76</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER VIII</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">90</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER IX</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">101</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER X</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_X">120</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XI</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">137</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XII</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">155</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XIII</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">169</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XIV</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">185</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XV</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">197</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XVI</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">213</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XVII</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">230</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XVIII</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">247</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XIX</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">260</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XX</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">273</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XXI</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">292</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XXII</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">310</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XXIII</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">329</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XXIV</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">345</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XXV</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">359</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XXVI</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">376</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XXVII</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">391</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XXVIII</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">405</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XXIX</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">421</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHAPTER XXX</td><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">431</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='major'/>
+
+<h1>FROM THE HOUSETOPS</h1>
+
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mr. Templeton Thorpe was soon to be married for the second time. Back in
+1860 he married a girl of twenty-two, and now in the year 1912 he was
+taking unto himself another girl of twenty-two. In the interim he had
+achieved a grandson whose years were twenty-nine. In his seventy-seventh
+year he was worth a great many millions of dollars, and for that and no
+other reason perhaps, one of the newspapers, in commenting on the
+approaching nuptials, declared that nobody could now deny that he was a
+philanthropist.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"I daresay you are right, Mrs. Tresslyn," said old Templeton Thorpe's
+grandson, bitterly. "He hasn't many more years to live."</p>
+
+<p>The woman in the chair started, her eyes narrowing. The flush deepened
+in her cheeks. It had been faint before and steady, but now it was
+ominous.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear you are again putting words into my mouth," she said coldly.
+"Have I made any such statement?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not say that you had, Mrs. Tresslyn," said the young man. "I
+merely observed that you were right. It isn't necessary to put the
+perfectly obvious into words. He is a very old man, so you are right in
+believing that he hasn't many years left to live. Nearly four times the
+age of Anne,&mdash;that's how old he is,&mdash;and time flies very swiftly for
+him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I must again remind you that you are in danger of becoming offensive,
+Braden. Be good enough to remember that this interview is not of my
+choosing. I consented to receive you in&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You knew it was inevitable&mdash;this interview, as you call it. You knew I
+would come here to denounce this damnable transaction. I have nothing to
+apologise for, Mrs. Tresslyn. This is not the time for apologies. You
+may order me to leave your house, but I don't believe you will find any
+satisfaction in doing so. You would still know that I have a right to
+protest against this unspeakable marriage, even though it should mean
+nothing more to me than the desire to protect a senile old man against
+the&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Your grandfather is the last man in the world to be described as
+senile," she broke in, with a thin smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I could have agreed with you a month ago, but not now," said he
+savagely.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you would better go now, Braden," said she, arising. She was a
+tall, handsome woman, well under fifty. As she faced her visitor, her
+cold, unfriendly eyes were almost on a level with his own. The look she
+gave him would have caused a less determined man to quail. It was her
+way of closing an argument, no matter whether it was with her butcher,
+her grocer, of the bishop himself. Such a look is best described as
+imperious, although one less reserved than I but perhaps more potently
+metaphorical would say that she simply looked a hole through you, seeing
+beyond you as if you were not there at all. She had found it especially
+efficacious in dealing with the butcher and even the bishop, to say
+nothing of the effect it always had upon the commonplace nobodies who go
+to the butcher and the bishop for the luxuries of both the present and
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> future life, and it had seldom failed to wither and blight the most
+hardy of masculine opponents. It was not always so effective in crushing
+the members of her own sex, for there were women in New York society who
+could look straight through Mrs. Tresslyn without even appearing to
+suspect that she was in the range of vision. She had been known,
+however, to stare an English duke out of countenance, and it was a long
+time before she forgave herself for doing so. It would appear that it is
+not the proper thing to do. Crushing the possessor of a title is
+permissible only among taxi-drivers and gentlemen whose daughters are
+already married.</p>
+
+<p>Her stony look did not go far toward intimidating young Mr. Thorpe. He
+was a rather sturdy, athletic looking fellow with a firm chin and a
+well-set jaw, and a pair of grey eyes that were not in the habit of
+wavering.</p>
+
+<p>"I came here to see Anne," he said, a stubborn expression settling in
+his face. "Is she afraid to see me, or is she obeying orders from you,
+Mrs. Tresslyn?"</p>
+
+<p>"She doesn't care to see you," said Mrs. Tresslyn. "That's all there is
+to be said about it, Braden."</p>
+
+<p>"So far as I am concerned, she is still engaged to me. She hasn't broken
+it off by word or letter. If you don't mind, I'd like to have it broken
+off in the regular way. It doesn't seem quite proper for her to remain
+engaged to me right up to the instant she marries my grandfather. Or is
+it possible that she intends to remain bound to me during the lifetime
+of my grandparent, with the idea of holding me to my bargain when he is
+gone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be ridiculous," was all that Mrs. Tresslyn said in response to
+this sarcasm, but she said it scathingly.</p>
+
+<p>For a full minute they stood looking into each<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> other's eyes, each
+appraising the other, one offensively, the other defensively. She had
+the advantage of him, for she was prepared to defend herself while he
+was in the position of one who attacks without strategy and leaps from
+one exposed spot to another. It was to her advantage that she knew that
+he despised her; it was to his disadvantage that he knew she had always
+liked him after a manner of her own, and doubtless liked him now despite
+the things he had said to her. She had liked him from his boyhood days
+when report had it that he was to be the sole heir to his grandfather's
+millions, and she had liked him, no doubt, quite as sincerely, after the
+old man had declared that he did not intend to ruin a brilliant career
+by leaving a lot of uninspiring money to his ambitious grandson.</p>
+
+<p>In so many words, old Templeton Thorpe had said, not two months before,
+that he intended to leave practically all of his money to charity! All
+except the two millions he stood ready to settle upon his bride the day
+she married him! Possibly Mrs. Tresslyn liked the grandson all the more
+for the treasures that he had lost, or was about to lose. It is easy to
+like a man who will not be pitied. At any rate, she did not consider it
+worth while to despise him, now that he had only a profession to offer
+in exchange for her daughter's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, Mrs. Tresslyn, I know that Anne loves me," he said, with
+forced calmness. "She doesn't love my grandfather. That isn't even
+debatable. I fear that I am the only person in the world who does love
+him. I suspect, too, that if he loves any one, I am that one. If you
+think that he is fool enough to believe that Anne loves him, you are
+vastly mistaken. He knows perfectly well that she doesn't, and, by gad,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>
+he doesn't blame her. He understands. That's why he sits there at home
+and chuckles. I hope you will not mind my saying to you that he
+considers me a very lucky person."</p>
+
+<p>"Lucky?" said she, momentarily off her guard.</p>
+
+<p>"If you care to hear exactly how he puts it, he says I'm <i>damned</i> lucky,
+Mrs. Tresslyn. Of course, you are not to assume that I agree with him.
+If I thought all this was Anne's doing and not yours, I should say that
+I am lucky, but I can't believe&mdash;good heavens, I will not believe that
+she could do such a thing! A young, beautiful, happy girl
+voluntarily&mdash;oh, it is unspeakable! She is being driven into it, she is
+being sacrificed to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Just one moment, Braden," interrupted Mrs. Tresslyn, curtly. "I may as
+well set you quite straight in the matter. It will save time and put an
+end to recriminations. My daughter does not care the snap of her fingers
+for Mr. Thorpe. I think she loves you quite as dearly now as she ever
+did. At any rate, she says she does. But that is neither here nor there.
+She is going to marry Mr. Thorpe, and of her own volition. I have
+advised her to do so, I will admit, but I have not driven her to it, as
+you say. No one but a fool would expect her to love that old man. He
+doesn't ask it of her. He simply asks her to marry him. Nowadays people
+do not always marry for love. In fact, they frequently marry to avoid
+it&mdash;at least for the time being. Your grandfather has told you of the
+marriage settlement. It is to be two million dollars, set apart for her,
+to be hers in full right on the day that he dies. We are far from rich,
+Anne and I. My husband was a failure&mdash;but you know our circumstances
+quite well enough without my going into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> them. My daughter is her own
+mistress. She is twenty-three. She is able to choose for herself. It
+pleases her to choose the grandfather instead of the grandson. Is that
+perfectly plain to you? If it is, my boy, then I submit that there is
+nothing further to be said. The situation is surely clear enough for
+even you to see. We do not pretend to be doing anything noble. Mr.
+Thorpe is seventy-seven. That is the long and short of it."</p>
+
+<p>"In plain English, it's the money you are after," said he, with a sneer.</p>
+
+<p>"Obviously," said she, with the utmost candour. "Young women of
+twenty-three do not marry old men of seventy-seven for love. You may
+imagine a young girl marrying a penniless youth for love, but can you
+picture her marrying a penniless octogenarian for the same reason? I
+fancy not. I speak quite frankly to you, Braden, and without reserve. We
+have always been friends. It would be folly to attempt to delude you
+into believing that a sentimental motive is back of our&mdash;shall we say
+enterprise?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that is what I would call it," said he levelly. "It is a more
+refined word than scheme."</p>
+
+<p>"The world will be grateful for the opportunity to bear me out in all
+that I have said to you," she went on. "It will cheerfully, even
+gleefully supply any of the little details I may have considered
+unnecessary or superfluous in describing the situation. You are at
+liberty, then, to go forth and assist in the castigation. You have my
+permission,&mdash;and Anne's, I may add,&mdash;to say to the world that I have
+told you plainly why this marriage is to take place. It is no secret. It
+isn't improbable that your grandfather will consent to back you up in
+your denunciation. He is that kind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> of a man. He has no illusions.
+Permit me to remind you, therefore, that neither you nor the world is to
+take it for granted that we are hoodwinking Mr. Thorpe. Have I made
+myself quite clear to you, Braden?"</p>
+
+<p>The young man drew a deep breath. His tense figure relaxed. "I did not
+know there were such women in the world as you, Mrs. Tresslyn. There
+were heartless, soulless women among the Borgias and the Medicis, but
+they lived in an age of intrigue. Their acts were mildly innocuous when
+compared with&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I must ask you to remember that you are in my home, Braden," she
+interrupted, her eyes ablaze.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I remember where I am, perfectly," he cried. "It was in this very
+room that Anne promised to become my wife. It was here that you gave
+your consent, less than a year ago."</p>
+
+<p>He had been pacing the floor, back and forth across the space in front
+of the fireplace, in which logs were blazing on this raw February
+afternoon. Now he stopped once more to face her resolutely.</p>
+
+<p>"I insist that it is my right to see Anne," he said. His eyes were
+bloodshot, his cheek pallid. "I must hear from her own lips that she no
+longer considers herself bound to me by the promise made a year ago. I
+demand that much of her. She owes it to me, if not to herself, to put an
+end to the farce before she turns to tragedy. I don't believe she
+appreciates the wickedness of the thing she is about to do. I insist
+that it is my right to speak with her, to urge her to reconsider, to
+point out to her the horrors of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She will not see you, Braden," broke in the mother, finality in her
+voice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"She <i>must</i> see me," he shouted. "If not to-day, to-morrow; if not then,
+some other day, for, by the Eternal, Mrs. Tresslyn, I intend to speak
+with her if I have to wait until the accursed day you have selected,&mdash;at
+the very altar, if necessary. She shall not go into this thing until she
+has had the final word with me, and I with her. She does not know what
+she is doing. She is carried away by the thought of all that
+money&mdash;Money! Good God, Mrs. Tresslyn, she has told me a hundred times
+that she would marry me if I were as poor as the raggedest beggar in the
+streets. She loves me, she cannot play this vile trick on me. Her heart
+is pure. You cannot make me believe that she isn't honest and fair and
+loyal. I tell you now, once and for all, that I will not stand idly by
+and see this vile sacrifice made in order to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Rawson," interrupted Mrs. Tresslyn, looking beyond him in the direction
+of the door, "Doctor Thorpe is going. Will you give him his hat and
+coat?" She had pressed a button beside the mantelpiece, and in response
+to the call, the butler stood in the doorway. "Good day, Braden. I am
+sorry that Anne is unable to see you to-day. She&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Good day, Mrs. Tresslyn," he choked out, controlling himself with an
+effort. "Will you tell her that I shall call to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>She smiled. "When do you expect to return to London? I had hoped to have
+you stay until after the wedding."</p>
+
+<p>His smile was more of an effort than hers. "Thanks. My grandfather has
+expressed the same hope. He says the affair will not be complete without
+my presence at the feast. To-morrow, at this hour, I shall come to see
+Anne. Thank you, Rawson."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>His gaze swept the long, luxurious drawing-room, now filled with the
+  shadows of late afternoon. A sigh that ended in an unvoiced imprecation
+escaped him. There was not an object in the room that did not possess
+for him a peculiar claim of intimacy. Here he had dreamed of paradise
+with Anne, and here he had built upon his hopes,&mdash;a staunch future that
+demanded little of the imagination. He could never forget this room and
+all that it had held for him.</p>
+
+<p>But now, in that brief, swift glance, he found himself estimating the
+cost of all the treasures that it contained, and the price that was to
+be paid in order that they might not be threatened. These things
+represented greed. They had always represented greed. They had been
+saved out of the wreck that befell the Tresslyn fortunes when Anne was a
+young girl entering her teens, the wreck that destroyed Arthur Tresslyn
+and left his widow with barely enough to sustain herself and children
+through the years that intervened between the then and the now.</p>
+
+<p>He recalled that after the wreck had been cleared up, Mrs. Tresslyn had
+a paltry twenty-five thousand a year on which to maintain the house
+that, fortuitously, had been in her name at the time of the smash. A
+paltry sum indeed! Barely enough to feed and clothe one hundred less
+exacting families for a year; families, however, with wheelbarrows
+instead of automobiles, and with children instead of servants.</p>
+
+<p>Ten years had elapsed since the death of Arthur Tresslyn, and still the
+house in the east Seventies held<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> itself above water by means of that
+meagre two thousand a month! These rare, almost priceless objects upon
+which he now gazed had weathered the storm, proof against the
+temptations that beset an owner embarrassed by their richness; they had
+maintained a smug relationship to harmony in spite of the jangling of
+discordant instruments, such as writs and attachments and the wails of
+insufferable creditors who made the usual mistake of thinking that a
+man's home is his castle and therefore an object of reprisal. The
+splendid porcelains, the incomparable tapestries and the small but
+exquisite paintings remained where they had been placed by the amiable
+but futile Arthur, and all the king's men and all the king's horses
+could not have removed them without Mrs. Tresslyn's sanction. The
+mistress of the house subsisted as best she could on the pitiful income
+from a sequestered half-million, and lived in splendour among objects
+that deluded even the richest and most arrogant of her friends into
+believing that nothing was more remote from her understanding than the
+word poverty, or the equally disgusting word thrift.</p>
+
+<p>Here he had come to children's parties in days when he was a lad and
+Anne a child of twelve, and here he had always been a welcome visitor
+and playmate, even to the end of his college years. The motherless,
+fatherless grandson of old Templeton Thorpe was cherished among
+heirlooms that never had had a price put upon them. Of all the boys who
+came to the Tresslyn house, young Braden Thorpe was the heir with the
+most potent possibility. He did not know it then, but now he knew that
+on the occasion of his smashing a magnificent porcelain vase the
+forgiving kiss that Mrs. Tresslyn bestowed upon his flaming cheek<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> was
+not due to pity but to farsightedness. Somehow he now felt that he could
+smash every fragile and inanimate thing in sight, and still escape the
+kiss.</p>
+
+<p>Not the least regal and imposing object in the room was the woman who
+stood beside the fireplace, smiling as she always smiled when a
+situation was at its worst and she at her best. Her high-bred,
+aristocratic face was as insensitive to an inward softness as a chiseled
+block of marble is to the eye that gazes upon it in rapt admiration. She
+had trained herself to smile in the face of the disagreeable; she had
+acquired the <i>art</i> of tranquillity. This long anticipated interview with
+her daughter's cast-off, bewildered lover was inevitable. They had known
+that he would come, insistent. She had not kept him waiting. When he
+came to the house the day after his arrival from England, following
+close upon a cablegram sent the day after the news of Anne's defection
+had struck him like a thunderbolt, she was ready to receive him.</p>
+
+<p>And now, quite as calmly and indifferently, she was ready to say
+good-bye to him forever,&mdash;to this man who until a fortnight before had
+considered himself, and rightly too, to be the affianced husband of her
+daughter. He meant nothing to her. Her world was complete without him.
+He possessed her daughter's love,&mdash;and all the love she would ever know
+perhaps,&mdash;but even that did not produce within her the slightest qualm.
+Doubtless Anne would go on loving him to the end of her days. It is the
+prerogative of women who do not marry for love; it is their right to
+love the men they do not marry provided they honour the men they do, and
+keep their skirts clear besides.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn felt, and honestly too, that her own assurances that Anne
+loved him would be quite as satisfactory<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> as if Anne were to utter them
+herself. It all came to the same thing, and she had an idea that she
+could manage the situation more ably than her daughter.</p>
+
+<p>And Mrs. Tresslyn was quite sure that it would come out all right in the
+end. She hadn't the remotest doubt that Anne could marry Braden later
+on, if she cared to do so, and if nothing better offered; so what was
+there to worry about? Things always shape themselves after the easiest
+possible fashion. It wasn't as if she was marrying a young man with
+money. Mrs. Tresslyn had seen things shape themselves before. Moreover,
+she rather hated the thought of being a grandmother before she was
+fifty. And so it was really a pleasure to turn this possible son-in-law
+out of her house just at this time. It would be a very simple matter to
+open the door to him later on and invite him in.</p>
+
+<p>She stood beside her hearth and watched him go with a calm and far from
+uneasy eye. He would come again to-morrow, perhaps,&mdash;but even at his
+worst he could not be a dangerous visitor. He was a gentleman. He was a
+bit distressed. Gentlemen are often put to the test, and they invariably
+remain gentlemen.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped at the door. "Will you tell Anne that I'll be here to-morrow,
+Mrs. Tresslyn?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall tell her, of course," said Mrs. Tresslyn, and lifted her
+lorgnon.</p>
+
+<p>He went out, filled to the throat with rage and resentment. His strong
+body was bent as if against a gale, and his hands were tightly clenched
+in his overcoat pockets. In his haste to get away from the house, he had
+fairly flung himself into the ulster that Rawson<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> held for him, and the
+collar of his coat showed high above the collar of the greatcoat,&mdash;a
+most unusual lapse from orderliness on the part of this always careful
+dresser.</p>
+
+<p>He was returning to his grandfather's house. Old Templeton Thorpe would
+be waiting there for him, and Mr. Thorpe's man would be standing outside
+the library door as was his practice when his master was within, and
+there would be a sly, patient smile on the servant's lips but not in his
+sombre eyes. He was returning to his grandfather's house because he had
+promised to come back and tell the old man how he had fared at the home
+of his betrothed. The old man had said to him earlier in the afternoon
+that he would know more about women than he'd ever known before by the
+time his interview was over, and had drily added that the world was full
+to overflowing of good women who had not married the men they
+loved,&mdash;principally, he was just enough to explain, because the men they
+loved preferred to marry other women.</p>
+
+<p>Braden had left him seated in the library after a stormy half-hour; and
+as he rushed from the room, he found Mr. Thorpe's man standing in the
+hall outside the door, just as he always stood, waiting for orders with
+the sly, patient smile on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>For sixty years Templeton Thorpe had lived in the house near Washington
+Square, and for thirty-two of them Wade had been within sound of his
+voice, no matter how softly he called. The master never rang a bell,
+night or day. He did not employ Wade to answer bells. The butler could
+do that, or the parlour-maid, if the former happened to be tipsier than
+usual. Wade always kept his head cocked a little to one side, in the
+attitude of one listening, and so long had he been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> at it that it is
+doubtful if he could have cocked it the other way without snapping
+something in his neck. That right ear of his was open for business
+twenty-four hours out of the day. The rest of his body may have slept as
+soundly as any man's, but his ear was always awake, on land or sea. It
+was his boast that he had never had a vacation.</p>
+
+<p>Braden, after his long ride down Fifth Avenue on the stage, found Wade
+in the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Is my grandfather in the library, Wade?" he asked, surprised to find
+the man at the foot of the stairs, quite a distance from his accustomed
+post.</p>
+
+<p>"He is, sir," said Wade. "He asked me to wait here until you arrived and
+then to go upstairs for a little while, sir. I fancy he has something to
+say to you in private." Which was a na&iuml;ve way of explaining that Mr.
+Thorpe did not want him to have his ear cocked in the hall during the
+conversation that was to be resumed after an advisable interval.
+Observing the strange pallor in the young man's usually ruddy face, he
+solicitously added: "Shall I get you a glass of&mdash;ahem!&mdash;spirits, sir? A
+snack of brandy is a handy thing to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you, Wade. You forget that I am a doctor. I never take
+medicine," said Braden, forcing a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"A very good idea, sir," said Wade.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Mrs. Tresslyn had reported to Anne, in the cosy little
+boudoir at the top of the house in the Seventies.</p>
+
+<p>"It is just as well that you insisted on me seeing him, dear," she said
+on entering the room. "He would have said things to you that you could
+not have forgiven. As it is, you have nothing to forgive, and you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> have
+saved yourself a good many tears. He&mdash;but, my dear, what's this? Have
+you been crying?"</p>
+
+<p>Anne, tall and slender, stood with her back to the window, her exquisite
+face in the shadows. Even in the dim, colourless light of the waning
+day, she was lovely&mdash;lovely even with the wet cheeks and the drooped,
+whimpering lips.</p>
+
+<p>"What did he say, mother?" she asked, her voice hushed and broken. "How
+did he look?" Her head was bent and she looked at her mother from
+beneath pain-contracted brows. "Was he angry? Was he desperate? Did&mdash;did
+he say that he&mdash;that he loved me?"</p>
+
+<p>"He looked very well, he was angry, he was desperate and he said that he
+loved you," replied Mrs. Tresslyn, with the utmost composure. "So dry
+your eyes. He did just what was to have been expected of him, and just
+what you counted upon. He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He honestly, truly said that he loved me?" cried the girl, lifting her
+head and drawing a deep breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes,&mdash;truly."</p>
+
+<p>Anne dried her eyes with a fresh bit of lace.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, mother, and tell me all about it," she said, jerking a small
+chair around so that it faced the couch. Then she threw herself upon the
+latter and, reaching out with a slender foot, drew the chair closer.
+"Sit up close, and let's hear what my future grandson had to say."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Braden Thorpe had spent two years in the New York hospitals, after
+graduation from Johns Hopkins, and had been sent to Germany and Austria
+by his grandfather when he was twenty-seven, to work under the advanced
+scientists of Vienna and Berlin. At twenty-nine he came back to New
+York, a serious-minded, purposeful man, wrapped up in his profession and
+heterodoxically humane, to use the words of his grandfather. The first
+day after his return he confided to his grim old relative the somewhat
+unprofessional opinion that hopelessly afflicted members of the human
+race should be put out of their misery by attending physicians,
+operating under the direction of a commission appointed to consider such
+cases, and that the act should be authorised by law!</p>
+
+<p>His grandfather, being seventy-six and apparently as healthy as any one
+could hope to be at that age, said that he thought it would be just as
+well to kill 'em legally as any other way, having no good opinion of
+doctors, and admitted that his grandson had an exceptionally soft heart
+in him even though his head was a trifle harder and thicker than was
+necessary in one so young.</p>
+
+<p>"It's worth thinking about, anyhow, isn't it, granddaddy?" Braden had
+said, with great earnestness.</p>
+
+<p>"It is, my boy," said Templeton Thorpe; "especially when you haven't got
+anything serious the matter with you."</p>
+
+<p>"But if you were hopelessly ill and suffering beyond<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> all endurance
+you'd welcome death, wouldn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I wouldn't," said Mr. Thorpe promptly. "The only time I ever wanted
+to shuffle off was when your grandmother first refused to marry me. The
+second time she refused me I decided to do something almost but not
+quite so terrible, so I went West. The third time I proposed, she
+accepted me, and out of sheer joy I very stupidly got drunk. So, you
+see, there is always something to live for," he concluded, with his
+driest smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite serious about it, grandfather," said Braden stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>"So I perceive. Well, you are planning to hang out your sign here in New
+York pretty soon, and you are going to become a licensed physician, the
+confr&egrave;re and companion of a lot of distinguished gentlemen who believe
+just as you do about putting sufferers out of their misery but who
+wouldn't think of doing it, so I'd advise you to keep your opinions to
+yourself. What do you suppose I sent you abroad for, and gave you an
+education that few young men have received? Just to see you kicked out
+of your profession before you've fairly well put a foot into it, or a
+knife into a plutocrat, or a pill into a pauper? No, sirree, my boy. You
+sit tight and let the hangman do all the legal killing that has to be
+done."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know perfectly well that if I advanced this theory,&mdash;or
+scheme,&mdash;at present, I'd be kicked out of the profession,
+notwithstanding the fact that it has all been discussed a million times
+by doctors in every part of the world. I can't help having the feeling
+that it would be a great and humane thing&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so," broke in the old man, "but let us talk of something else."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A month later Braden came to him and announced that he and Anne Tresslyn
+were betrothed. They had known each other for years, and from the time
+that Anne was seventeen Braden had loved her. He had been a quiet,
+rather shy boy, and she a gay, self-possessed creature whose outlook
+upon life was so far advanced beyond his, even in those days of
+adolescence, that he looked upon her as the eighth wonder of the world.
+She had poise, manner, worldly wisdom of a pleasantly superficial
+character that stood for sophistication in his blissful estimate of her
+advantages over him, and she was so adroit in the art of putting her
+finger upon the right spot at precisely the right moment that he found
+himself wondering if he could ever bring himself up to her insuperable
+level.</p>
+
+<p>And when he came home after the two years in Europe, filled with great
+thoughts and vast pretentions of a singularly unromantic nature, he
+found her so much lovelier than before that where once he had shyly
+coveted he now desired with a fervour that swept him headlong into a
+panic of dread lest he had waited too long and that he had irretrievably
+lost her while engaged in the wretchedly mundane and commonplace pursuit
+of trifles. He was intensely amazed, therefore, to discover that she had
+loved him ever since she was a child in short frocks. He expected her to
+believe him when he said to her that she was the loveliest of all God's
+creatures, but it was more than he could believe when she declared that
+he was as handsome as a Greek god. That, of course, to him was a
+ludicrous thing to say, a delusion, a fancy that could not be explained,
+and yet he had seen himself in a mirror a dozen times a day, perhaps,
+without even suspecting, in his simplicity, that he was an extremely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>
+good-looking chap and well worth a second glance from any one except
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>The announcement did not come as a surprise to old Mr. Thorpe. He had
+been expecting it. He realised that Braden's dilatory tactics alone were
+accountable for the delay in bringing the issue to a head.</p>
+
+<p>"And when do you expect to be married?" he had inquired, squinting at
+his grandson in a somewhat dubious manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Within the year, I hope," said Braden. "Of course, I shall have to get
+a bit of a start before we can think of getting married."</p>
+
+<p>"A bit of a start, eh? Expect to get enough of a practice in a year to
+keep Anne going, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"We shall live very economically."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that your idea or hers?"</p>
+
+<p>"She knows that I have but little more than two thousand a year, but, of
+course, it won't take much of a practice to add something to that, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Besides, you can always depend upon me to help you out, Braden,&mdash;that
+is, within reason," said the other, watching him narrowly out of his
+shrewd old eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Braden flushed. "You have done more than enough for me already,
+grandfather. I can't take anything more, you see. I'm going to fight my
+own way now, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said Mr. Thorpe. "That's the way to talk, my boy. And what does
+Anne say to that?"</p>
+
+<p>"She thinks just as I do about it. Oh, she's the right sort, granddaddy,
+so you needn't worry about us, once we are married."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I should have asked what her mother has to say about it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, she gave us her blessing," said his grandson, with a happy grin.</p>
+
+<p>"After she had heard about your plan to live on the results of your
+practice?"</p>
+
+<p>"She said she wasn't going to worry about that, sir. If Anne was willing
+to wait, so was she."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait for what?"</p>
+
+<p>"My practice to pick up, of course. What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just that, of course," said the old man quickly. "Well, my boy, while I
+daresay it isn't really necessary, I give my consent. I am sure you and
+Anne will be very happy in your cosy little five-room flat, and that she
+will be a great help to you. You may even attain to quite a fashionable
+practice,&mdash;or clientele, which is it?&mdash;through the Tresslyn position in
+the city. Thousand dollar appendicitis operations ought to be quite
+common with you from the outset, with Anne to talk you up a bit among
+the people who belong to her set and who are always looking for
+something to keep them from being bored to death. I understand that
+anybody who has an appendix nowadays is looked upon as exceedingly
+vulgar and is not even tolerated in good society. As for a man having a
+sound liver,&mdash;well, that kind of a liver is absolutely inexcusable.
+Nobody has one to-day if he can afford to have the other kind. Good
+livers always have livers,&mdash;and so do bad livers, for that matter. But,
+now, let us return to the heart. You are quite sure that Anne loves you
+better than she loves herself? That's quite important, you know. I have
+found that people who say that they love some one better than anybody
+else in the world, usually forget themselves,&mdash;that is to say, they
+overlook themselves. How about Anne?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Rather epigrammatic, aren't you, granddaddy? I have Anne's word for it,
+that's all. She wouldn't marry me if she loved any one more than she
+does me,&mdash;not even herself, as you put it. I am sure if I were Anne I
+should love myself better than all the rest of the world."</p>
+
+<p>"A very pretty speech, my boy. You should make an exceptionally
+fashionable doctor. You will pardon me for appearing to be cynical, but
+you see I am a very old man and somewhat warped,&mdash;bent, you might say,
+in my attitude toward the tender passion as it is practised to-day.
+Still, I shall take your word for it. Anne loves you devotedly, and you
+love her. The only thing necessary, therefore, is a professional
+practice, or, in other words, a practical profession. I am sure you will
+achieve both. You have my best wishes. I love you, my boy. You are the
+only thing left in life for me to love. Your father was my only son. He
+would have been a great man, I am sure, if he had not been my son. I
+spoiled him. I think that is the reason why he died so young. Now, my
+dear grandson, I am not going to make the mistake with his son that I
+made with my own. I intend that you shall fight your own battles. Among
+other things, you will have to fight pretty hard for Anne. That is a
+mere detail, of course. You are a resolute, determined, sincere fellow,
+Braden, and you have in you the making of a splendid character. You will
+succeed in anything you undertake. I like your eye, my boy, and I like
+the set of your jaw. You have principle and you have a sense of
+reverence that is quite uncommon in these days of ours. I daresay you
+have been wicked in an essential sort of way, and I fancy you have been
+just as necessarily honourable. I don't like a mollycoddle. I don't like
+anything invertebrate. I despise a Christian who doesn't understand
+Christ.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> Christ despised sin but he didn't despise sinners. And that
+brings us back to Mrs. Tresslyn,&mdash;Constance Blair that was. You will
+have to be exceedingly well fortified, my boy, if you expect to
+withstand the clever Constance. She is the refinement of maternal
+ambition. She will not be satisfied to have her daughter married to a
+mere practice. She didn't bring her up for that. She will ask me to come
+and see her within the next few days. What am I to say to her when she
+asks me if I expect you and Anne to live on what you can earn out of
+your ridiculous profession?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think that's all pretty well understood," said Braden easily. "You do
+Mrs. Tresslyn an injustice, granddaddy. She says it will be a splendid
+thing for Anne to struggle along as we shall have to do for a while.
+Character building, is the way she puts it."</p>
+
+<p>"Just the same, I shall expect a message from her before the engagement
+is announced," said the old man drily.</p>
+
+<p>A hard glitter had come into his eyes. He loved this good-looking,
+earnest grandson of his, and he was troubled. He lay awake half the
+night thinking over this piece of not unexpected news.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning at breakfast he said to Braden: "See here, my boy, you
+spoke to me recently about your desire to spend a year in and about the
+London hospitals before settling down to the real business of life. I've
+been thinking it over. You can't very well afford to pay for these
+finishing touches after you've begun struggling along on your own hook,
+and trying to make both ends meet on a slender income, so I'd suggest
+that you take this next year as a gift from me and spend it on the other
+side, working with my good friend, Sir George Bascombe, the greatest of
+all the English<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> surgeons. I don't believe you will ever regret it."</p>
+
+<p>Braden was overjoyed. "I should like nothing better, grandfather. By
+jove, you are good to me. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is only right and just that I should give to the last of my race the
+chance to be a credit to it." There was something cryptic in the remark,
+but naturally it escaped Braden's notice. "You are the only one of the
+Thorpes left, my boy. I was an only son and, strange as it may appear, I
+was singularly without avuncular relatives. It is not surprising,
+therefore, that I should desire to make a great man out of you. You
+shall not be handicapped by any failure on my part to do the right thing
+by you. If it is in my power to safeguard you, it is my duty to exercise
+that power. Nothing must be allowed to stand in the way or to obstruct
+your progress. Nothing must be allowed to check your ambition or destroy
+your courage. So, if you please, I think you ought to have this chance
+to work with Bascombe. A year is a short time to a chap of your age and
+experience, and it may be the most valuable one in a long and successful
+life."</p>
+
+<p>"If I can ever grow to be half as wise and half as successful as you,
+grandfather, I shall have achieved more than&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My boy, I inherited my success and I've been more of a fool than you
+suspect. My father left me with two or three millions of dollars, and
+the little wisdom that I have acquired I would pass on to you instead of
+money if it were possible to do so. A man cannot bequeath his wisdom. He
+may inherit it, but he can't give it away, for the simple reason that no
+one will take it as a gift. It is like advice to the young: something to
+disregard. My father left me a great deal of money, and I was too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> much
+of a coward to become a failure. Only the brave men are failures. They
+are the ones who take the risks. If you are going to be a surgeon, be a
+great one. Now, when do you think you can go to London?"</p>
+
+<p>Braden, his face aglow, was not long in answering. "I'll speak to Anne
+about it to-night. If she is willing to marry me at once, we'll start
+immediately. By Jove, sir, it is wonderful! It is the greatest thing
+that ever happened to a fellow. I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but I'm afraid that doesn't fit in with my plan," interrupted the
+old man, knitting his brows. "It is my idea that you should devote
+yourself to observation and not to experimentation,&mdash;to study instead of
+honeymooning. A bride is out of the question, Braden. This is to be my
+year and not Anne's."</p>
+
+<p>They were a week thrashing it out, and in the end it was Mrs. Tresslyn
+who settled the matter. She had had her talk with Mr. Templeton Thorpe,
+and, after hearing all that he had to say, expressed herself in no
+uncertain terms on the advisability of postponing the wedding for a year
+if not longer. Something she said in private to Anne appeared to have
+altered that charming young person's notions in regard to an early
+wedding, so Braden found himself without an ally. He went to London
+early in the fall, with Anne's promises safely stowed away in his heart,
+and he came back in the middle of his year with Sir George, dazed and
+bewildered by her faithlessness and his grandfather's perfidy.</p>
+
+<p>Out of a clear sky had come the thunderbolt. And then, while he was
+still dazed and furious, his grandfather had tried to convince him that
+he had done him a deuce of a good turn in showing up Anne Tresslyn!</p>
+
+<p>In patience the old man had listened to his grandson's tirade, his
+ravings, his anathemas. He had heard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> himself called a traitor. He had
+smiled grimly on being described as a satyr! When words and breath at
+last failed the stalwart Braden, the old gentleman, looking keenly out
+from beneath his shaggy brows, and without the slightest trace of
+resentment in his manner, suggested that they leave the matter to Anne.</p>
+
+<p>"If she really wants you, my boy, she'll chuck me and my
+two-million-dollar purse out of the window, so to speak, and she'll
+marry you in spite of your poverty. If she does that, I'll be satisfied.
+I'll step down and out and I'll praise God for his latest miracle. If
+she looks at it from the other point of view,&mdash;the perfectly safe and
+secure way, you understand,&mdash;and confirms her allegiance to me, I'll
+still be exceedingly happy in the consciousness that I've done you a
+good turn. I will enter my extreme old age in the race against your
+healthy youth. I will proffer my three or four remaining years to her as
+against the fifty you may be able to give her. Go and see her at once.
+Then come back here to me and tell me what she says."</p>
+
+<p>And so it was that Braden Thorpe returned, as he had agreed to do, to
+the home of the man who had robbed him of his greatest
+possession,&mdash;faith in woman. He found his grandfather seated in the
+library, in front of a half-dead fire. A word, in passing, to describe
+this remarkable old man. He was tall and thin, and strangely erect for
+one of his years. His gaunt, seamed face was beardless and almost
+repellent in its severity. In his deep-set, piercing eyes lurked all the
+pains of a lifetime. He had been a strong, robust man; the framework was
+all that remained of the staunch house in which his being had dwelt for
+so long. His hand shook and his knee rebelled against exertion, but his
+eye was unwavering, his chin unflinching. White and sparse was the
+thatch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> of hair upon his shrunken skull, and harsh was the thin voice
+that came from his straight, colourless lips. He walked with a cane, and
+seldom without the patient, much-berated Wade at his elbow, a prop
+against the dreaded day when his legs would go back on him and the brink
+would appear abruptly out of nowhere at his very feet. And there were
+times when he put his hand to his side and held it there till the look
+of pain softened about his mouth and eyes, though never quite
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was Templeton Thorpe's contention that Braden was a family
+investment, and that a good investment will take care of itself if
+properly handled. He considered himself quite capable of making a man of
+Braden, but he did not allow the boy to think that the job was a
+one-sided undertaking. Braden worked for all that he received. There was
+no silver platter, no golden spoon in Mr. Thorpe's cupboard. They
+understood each other perfectly and Templeton Thorpe was satisfied with
+his investment.</p>
+
+<p>That is why his eyes twinkled when Braden burst into the library after
+his fruitless appeal to Mrs. Tresslyn. He smiled as one smiles with
+relief when a craft he is watching glides safely but narrowly past a
+projecting abutment.</p>
+
+<p>"Calm yourself," he remarked after Braden's somewhat wild and incoherent
+beginning. "And sit down. You will not get anywhere pacing this twenty
+by thirty room, and you are liable to run into something immovable if
+you don't stop glaring at me and watch out where you are going instead."</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down?" shouted Braden, stopping before the old man in the chair,
+his hands clinched and his teeth showing. "I'll never sit down in your
+house again! What do you think I am? A snivelling, cringing dog that has
+to lick your hand for&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, now!" admonished the old man, without anger. "If you will not sit
+down, at least be kind enough to stand still. I can't understand half
+you say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> while you are stamping around like that. This isn't a china
+shop. Control yourself. Now, let's have it in so many words and not so
+many gesticulations. So Anne declined to see you, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe Anne had a voice in the matter. Mrs. Tresslyn is at the
+back of all this. She is the one who has roped you in,&mdash;duped you, or
+whatever you choose to call it without resorting to profanity. She's
+forcing Anne into this damnable marriage, and she is making a perfect
+fool of you. Can't you see it? Can't you see&mdash;but, my God, how can I ask
+that question of you? When a man gets to be as old as you, he&mdash;" He
+broke off abruptly, on the point of uttering the unforgivable.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, my boy," said Templeton Thorpe quietly. "Say it. I shan't mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what's the use?" groaned the miserable lover. "I cannot say
+anything more to you, sir, than I said early this afternoon. I told you
+then just what I think of your treachery. There isn't anything more for
+me to say, but I'd like you to know that Anne despises you. Her mother
+acknowledges that much at least,&mdash;and, curse her, without shame!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite well aware of the fact, Braden," said the old man. "You
+couldn't expect her to love me, could you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then, why in God's name are you marrying her? Why are you spoiling my
+life? Why are you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Is it spoiling your life to have the girl you love turn to and marry an
+old wreck such as I am, just because I happen to be willing to pay her
+two million dollars,&mdash;in advance, you might say? Is that spoiling your
+life or saving it?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Thorpe had dropped the cynical, half-amused air,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> and was now
+speaking with great intensity. Braden, struck by the change, turned
+suddenly to regard the old man with a new and puzzled light in his
+lowering eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"See here, my lad, you've had your chance. I knew what I was about when
+I sent you to see her. I knew precisely what would happen. She wants to
+marry you, but she prefers to marry me. That isn't as ambiguous as it
+sounds. Just think it over,&mdash;later on, not now, for I have something
+else to say to you. Do me the honour to be seated. Thank you. Now,
+you've got quite a good-sized, respectable nose upon your face. I submit
+that the situation is quite as plain as that nose, if you look at it in
+the broad light of understanding. If you think that I am marrying Anne
+because I love her, or because I am in my dotage and afflicted with
+senility, you are very much mistaken. If you think I am giving her two
+million dollars as a wedding gift because I expect it to purchase her
+love and esteem, you do my intelligence an injustice. If you think that
+I relish the prospect of having that girl in my house from now till the
+day I die, worrying the soul out of me, you are too simple for words. I
+am marrying her, not because I love her, my lad, but&mdash;but because I love
+<i>you</i>. God forbid that I should ever sink so low as to steal from my own
+flesh and blood. Stealing is one thing, bartering another. I expect to
+convince you that I have not taken anything from you that is of value,
+hence I am not a malefactor."</p>
+
+<p>Braden, seated opposite him, his elbows on the arms of the chair, leaned
+forward and watched the old man curiously. A new light had come into his
+eyes when Mr. Thorpe uttered those amazing words&mdash;"but because I love
+<i>you</i>." He was beginning to see, he was beginning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> to analyse the old
+man's motives, he was groping his way out of the fog.</p>
+
+<p>"You will have hard work to convince me that I have not been treated
+most unfairly, most vilely," said he, his lips still compressed.</p>
+
+<p>"Many years ago," said Mr. Thorpe, fixing his gaze on the lazy fire, "I
+asked Anne's grandmother to marry me. I suppose I thought that I was
+unalterably in love with her. I was the very rich son of a very rich
+man, and&mdash;pardon my conceit&mdash;what you would call an exceedingly good
+catch. Well, in those days things were not as they are now. The young
+lady, a great beauty and amazingly popular, happened to be in love with
+Roger Blair, a good-looking chap with no fortune and no prospects. She
+took the advice of her mother and married the man she loved, disdaining
+my riches and me as well. Roger wasn't much of a success as a husband,
+but he was a source of enlightenment and education to his wife. Not in
+the way you would suspect, however. He managed in very short order to
+convince her that it is a very ignorant mother who permits her daughter
+to marry a man without means. They hadn't been married three years when
+his wife had learned her lesson. It was too late to get rid of Roger,
+and by that time I was happily married to a girl who was quite as rich
+as I, and could afford to do as she pleased. So, you see, Anne's
+grandmother had to leave me out of the case, even though Roger would
+have been perfectly delighted to have given her sufficient grounds for
+divorce. I think you knew Anne's grandmother, Braden?" He paused for an
+answer, a sly, appraising look in his eyes. Receiving no response except
+a slight nod of the head, he chuckled softly and went on with the
+history.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor soul, she's gone to her reward. Now we come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> to Anne's mother. She
+was an only child,&mdash;and one was quite enough, I assure you. No mother
+ever had greater difficulty in satisfactorily placing a daughter than
+had Mrs. Blair. There was an army of young but not very dependable
+gentlemen who would have married her like a flash, notwithstanding her
+own poverty, had it not been for the fact that Mrs. Blair was so
+thoroughly educated by this time that she couldn't even contemplate a
+mistake in her calculations. She had had ample proof that love doesn't
+keep the wolf from the door, nor does it draw five per cent, as some
+other bonds do. She brought Constance up in what is now considered to be
+the most approved fashion in high society. The chap who had nothing but
+health and ambition and honour and brains to offer, in addition to that
+unprofitable thing called love, was a viper in Mrs. Blair's estimation.
+He was very properly and promptly stamped upon by the fond mother and
+doubtless was very glad to crawl off into the high grass, out of danger.
+He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What has all this got to do with your present behaviour?" demanded
+Braden harshly. "Speaking of vipers," he added, by way of comment.</p>
+
+<p>"I am coming to that," said Mr. Thorpe, resenting the interruption but
+not its sting. "After a careful campaign, Arthur Tresslyn was elected.
+He had a great deal of money, a kind heart and scarcely any brains. He
+was an ideal choice, everybody was agreed upon that. The fellow that
+Constance was really in love with at the time, Jimmy Gordon, was a
+friend of your father's. Well, the gentle Arthur went to pieces
+financially a good many years ago. He played hob with all the
+calculations, and so we find Constance, his wife, lamenting in the
+graveyard of her hopes and cursing Jimmy Gordon for his unfaithfulness
+in marrying before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> he was in a position to do so. If Jimmy had remained
+single for twelve years longer than he did, I daresay Arthur's widow
+would have succeeded in nabbing him whether or no. Arthur managed to die
+very happily, they say, quite well pleased with himself for having
+squandered the fortune which brought him so much misery. Now we come to
+Anne, Arthur's daughter. She became deeply enamoured of a splendid,
+earnest young chap named Braden Thorpe, grandson of the wealthy and
+doddering Templeton Thorpe, and recognised as his sole heir. Keep your
+seat, Braden; I am coming to the point. This young Thorpe trusted the
+fair and beautiful Anne. He set out to make a name and fortune for
+himself and for her. He sought knowledge and experience in distant
+lands, leaving his poor old grandfather at home with nothing to amuse
+himself with except nine millions of dollars and his dread of death.
+While Braden was experimenting in London, this doddering, senile old
+gentleman of Washington Square began to experiment a little on his own
+account. He set out to discover just what sort of stuff this Anne
+Tresslyn was made of and to prove to himself that she was worthy of his
+grandson's love. He began with the girl's mother. As soon as possible,
+he explained to her that money is a curse. She agreed that money is a
+curse if you haven't got it. In time, he confessed to her that he did
+not mean to curse his grandson with an unearned fortune, and that he
+intended to leave him in his will the trifling sum of fifty thousand
+dollars, thereby endowing him with the ambition and perhaps the energy
+to earn more and at the same time be of great benefit to the world in
+which he would have to struggle. Also, he let it be known that he was
+philanthropically inclined, that he purposed giving a great many
+millions to science<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> and that his death would be of untold value to the
+human race. Are you attending, Braden? If you are not, I shall stop
+talking at once. It is very exhausting and I haven't much breath or time
+to waste."</p>
+
+<p>"I am listening. Go on," said Braden, suddenly sitting up in his chair
+and taking a long, deep breath. The angry, antagonistic light was gone
+from his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the clever Mrs. Tresslyn was interested&mdash;deeply interested in my
+disclosures. She did not hesitate to inform me that Anne couldn't begin
+to live on the income from a miserable fifty thousand, and actually
+laughed in my face when I reminded her of the young lady's exalted
+preference for love in a cottage and joy at any price. Biding my time, I
+permitted the distressing truth to sink in. You will remember that
+Anne's letters began to come less frequently about four months ago,
+and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How do you happen to know about that?" broke in the young man, in
+surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Where she had been in the habit of writing twice and even three times a
+week," went on Mr. Thorpe, "she was content to set herself to the task
+of dropping you a perfunctory letter once in a fortnight. You will also
+recall that her letters were not so full of intensity&mdash;or enthusiasm:
+they lacked fervour, they fell off considerably in many ways. I happen
+to know about all this, Braden, because putting two and two together has
+always been exceedingly simple for me. You see, it was about three
+months ago that Anne began to reveal more than casual interest in Percy
+Wintermill. She&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Percy Wintermill!" gasped Braden, clutching the arms of his chair.
+"Why, she has always looked upon him as the stupidest, ugliest man in
+town. His attentions have been a standing joke between us. He is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> crazy
+about her, I know, but&mdash;oh, well, go on with the story."</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure he is crazy about her, as you say. That isn't strange. Half
+the young men in town think they are in love with her, and most of them
+believe she could make them happy. Now, no one concedes physical beauty
+or allurement to Percy. He is as ugly as they grow, but he isn't stupid.
+He is just a nice, amiable, senseless nincompoop with a great deal of
+money and a tremendous amount of health. He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I like Wintermill. He is one of my best friends. He is as square as any
+man I know and he would be the last person to try to come between Anne
+and me. He is too fond of me for that, sir. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Unfortunately he was not aware of the fact that you and Anne were
+engaged. You forget that the engagement was to be kept under cover for
+the time being. But all this is beside the question. Mrs. Tresslyn had
+looked the field over pretty carefully. No one appeared to be so well
+qualified to take your place as Percy Wintermill. He had everything that
+is desirable in a husband except good looks and perhaps good manners. So
+she began fishing for Percy. Anne was a delightful bait. Of course,
+Percy's robust health was objectionable, but it wasn't insurmountable. I
+could see that Anne loathed the thought of having him for a husband for
+thirty or forty years. Anybody could see that,&mdash;even Percy must have
+possessed intelligence enough to see it for himself. Finally, about six
+weeks ago, Anne rose above her environment. She allowed Percy to
+propose, asked for a few days in which to make up her mind, and then
+came out with a point-blank refusal. She defied her mother, openly
+declaring that she would marry you in spite of everything."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And that is just what she shall do, poor girl," cried Braden joyously.
+"She shall not be driven into&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Just a moment, please. When I discovered that young Wintermill couldn't
+be depended upon to rescue his best friend, I stepped into the arena, so
+to speak," said Mr. Thorpe with fine irony. "I sensed the situation
+perfectly. Percy was young and strong and enduring. He would be a long
+time dying in the natural order of things. What Anne was looking
+for&mdash;now, keep your seat, my boy!&mdash;what she wanted was a husband who
+could be depended upon to leave her a widow before it was too late. Now,
+I am seventy-seven, and failing pretty rapidly. It occurred to me that I
+would be just the thing for her. To make the story short, I began to
+dilate upon my great loneliness, and also hinted that if I could find
+the right sort of companion I would jump at the chance to get married.
+That's putting it rather coarsely, my boy, but the whole business is so
+ugly that it doesn't seem worth while to affect delicacy. Inside of two
+weeks, we had come to an understanding,&mdash;that is, an arrangement had
+been perfected. I think that everything was agreed upon except the
+actual day of my demise. As you know, I am to set aside for Anne as an
+ante-nuptial substitute for all dower rights in my estate, the sum of
+two million dollars. I may add that the securities guaranteeing this
+amount have been submitted to Mrs. Tresslyn and she has found them to be
+gilt-edged. These securities are to be held in trust for her until the
+day I die, when they go to her at once, according to our contract. She
+agrees to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"By gad, sir, it is infamous! Absolutely infamous!" exclaimed young
+Thorpe, springing to his feet. "I cannot&mdash;I will not believe it of
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"She agrees to relinquish all claims to my estate,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> concluded the old
+man, with a chuckle. "Inasmuch as I have made it quite clear that all of
+my money is to go to charity,&mdash;scientific charity,&mdash;I imagine that the
+Tresslyns feel that they have made a pretty good bargain."</p>
+
+<p>"I still maintain that she will renounce the whole detestable&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She would go back on her contract like a shot if she thought that I
+intended to include you among my scientific charities," interrupted the
+old man.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if I could only have an hour&mdash;half an hour with her," groaned
+Braden. "I could overcome the vile teaching of her mother and bring her
+to a realisation of what is ahead of her. I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you honestly,&mdash;in your heart, Braden,&mdash;believe that you could do
+that?" demanded Mr. Thorpe, arising from his chair and laying his hand
+upon the young man's shoulder. He forced the other's eyes to meet his.
+"Do you believe that she would be worthy of your love and respect even
+though she did back out of this arrangement? I want an honest answer."</p>
+
+<p>"God help me, I&mdash;I don't know what to think," cried Braden miserably. "I
+am shocked, bewildered. I can't say what I believe, grandfather. I only
+know that I have loved her better than my own soul. I don't know what to
+think now."</p>
+
+<p>"You might also say that she loves herself better than she loves her own
+soul," said the old man grimly. "She will go on loving you, I've no
+doubt, in a strictly physical way, but I wouldn't put much dependence in
+her soulfulness. One of these fine days, she will come to you and say
+that she has earned two million dollars, and she will ask you if it is
+too late to start all over again. What will you say to that?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord, sir, what would you expect me to say?" exploded Braden. "I
+should tell her to&mdash;to go to hell!" he grated between his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Meanwhile, I want you to understand that I have acted for your best
+interests, Braden. God knows I am not in love with this girl. I know her
+kind, I know her breed. I want to save you from&mdash;well, I want to give
+you a fighting chance to be a great, good man. You need the love of a
+fine, unselfish woman to help you to the heights you aspire to reach.
+Anne Tresslyn would not have helped you. She cannot see above her own
+level. There are no heights for her. She belongs to the class that never
+looks up from the ground. They are always following the easiest path. I
+am doing you a good turn. Somewhere in this world there is a noble,
+self-sacrificing woman who will make you happy, who will give strength
+to you, who will love you for yourself and not for <i>herself</i>. Go out and
+find her, my boy. You will recognise her the instant you see her."</p>
+
+<p>"But you&mdash;what of you?" asked Braden, deeply impressed by the old man's
+unsuspected sentiment. "Will you go ahead and&mdash;and marry her, knowing
+that she will make your last few years of life unhappy, un&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am under contract," said Templeton Thorpe grimly. "I never go back on
+a contract."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall see her, nevertheless," said Braden doggedly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is my desire that you should. In fact, I shall make it my business
+to see that you do. After that, I fancy you will not care to remain here
+for the wedding. I should advise you to return to London as soon as you
+have had it out with her."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall remain here until the very hour of the wedding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> if it is to
+take place, and up to that very hour I shall do my best to prevent it,
+grandfather."</p>
+
+<p>"Your failure to do so will make me the happiest man in New York," said
+Mr. Thorpe, emotion in his voice, "for I love you dearly, Braden."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>A conspicuous but somewhat unimportant member of the Tresslyn family was
+a young man of twenty-four. He was Anne's brother, and he had preceded
+her into the world by the small matter of a year and two months. Mrs.
+Tresslyn had set great store by him. Being a male child he did not
+present the grave difficulties that attend the successful launching and
+disposal of the female of the species to which the Tresslyn family
+belonged. He was born with the divine right to pick and choose, and that
+is something that at present appears to be denied the sisters of men.
+But the amiable George, at the age of one and twenty and while still a
+freshman in college, picked a girl without consulting his parent and in
+a jiffy put an end to the theory that man's right is divine.</p>
+
+<p>It took more than half of Mrs. Tresslyn's income for the next two years,
+the ingenuity of a firm of expensive lawyers, the skill of nearly a
+dozen private detectives, and no end of sleepless nights to untie the
+loathsome knot, and even then George's wife had a shade the better of
+them in that she reserved the right to call herself Mrs. Tresslyn, quite
+permanently disgracing his family although she was no longer a part of
+it.</p>
+
+<p>The young woman was employed as a demonstrator for a new brand of
+mustard when George came into her life. The courtship was brief, for she
+was a pretty girl and virtuous. She couldn't see why there should be
+anything wrong in getting married, and therefore was very much
+surprised, and not a little chagrined, to find<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> out almost immediately
+after the ceremony that she had committed a heinous and unpardonable
+sin. She shrank for a while under the lashings, and then, like a beast
+driven to cover, showed her teeth.</p>
+
+<p>If marriage was not sanctuary, she would know the reason why. With a
+single unimposing lawyer and not the remotest suggestion of a detective
+to reinforce her position, she took her stand against the unhappy George
+and his mother, and so successful were her efforts to make divorce
+difficult that she came out of chambers with thirty thousand dollars in
+cash, an aristocratic name, and a valuable claim to theatrical
+distinction.</p>
+
+<p>All this transpired less than two years prior to the events which were
+to culminate in the marriage of George's only sister to the Honourable
+Templeton Thorpe of Washington Square. Needless to say, George was now
+looked upon in the small family as a liability. He was a never-present
+help in time of trouble. The worst thing about him was his obstinate
+regard for the young woman who still bore his name but was no longer his
+wife. At twenty-four he looked upon himself as a man who had nothing to
+live for. He spent most of his time gnashing his teeth because the
+pretty little divorcee was receiving the attentions of young gentlemen
+in his own set, without the slightest hint of opposition on the part of
+their parents, while he was obliged to look on from afar off.</p>
+
+<p>It appears that parents do not object to young women of insufficient
+lineage provided the said young women keep at a safe distance from the
+marriage altar.</p>
+
+<p>It is interesting to note in this connection, however, that little Mrs.
+George Tresslyn was a model of propriety despite her sprightly
+explorations of a world that had been strange to her up to the time she
+was cast<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> into it by a disgusted mother-in-law, and it is still more
+interesting to find that she nourished a sly hope that some day George
+would kick over the traces in a very manly fashion and marry her all
+over again!</p>
+
+<p>Be that as it may, the bereft and humiliated George favoured his mother
+and sister with innumerable half-hours in which they had to contend with
+scornful and exceedingly bitter opinions on the iniquity of marriage as
+it is practised among the elect. He fairly bawled his disapproval of the
+sale of Anne to the decrepit Mr. Thorpe, and there was not a day in the
+week that did not contain at least one unhappy hour for the women in his
+home, for just so often he held forth on the sanctity of the marriage
+vows.</p>
+
+<p>He was connected with a down-town brokerage firm and he was as near to
+being a failure in the business as an intimate and lifelong friend of
+the family would permit him to be and still allow him to remain in the
+office. His business was the selling of bonds. The friend of the family
+was the head of the firm, so no importance should be attached to the
+fact that George did not earn his salt as a salesman. It is only
+necessary to report that the young man made frequent and determined
+efforts to sell his wares, but with so little success that he would have
+been discouraged had it not been for the fact that he was intimately
+acquainted with himself. He knew himself too well to expect people to
+take much stock in the public endeavours of one whose private affairs
+were so far beneath notice. Men were not likely to overlook the
+disgraceful treatment of the little "mustard girl," for even the men who
+have mistreated women in their time overlook their own chicanery in
+preaching decency over the heads of others who have not played the game
+fairly. George looked upon himself as a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> marked man, against whom the
+scorn of the world was justly directed.</p>
+
+<p>Strange as it may appear, George Tresslyn was a tall, manly looking
+fellow, and quite handsome. At a glance you would have said that he had
+a great deal of character in his make-up and would get on in the world.
+Then you would hear about his matrimonial delinquency and instantly you
+would take a second glance. The second and more searching look would
+have revealed him as a herculean light-weight,&mdash;a man of strength and
+beauty and stature spoiled in the making. And you would be sorry that
+you had made the discovery, for it would take you back to his school
+days, and then you would encounter the causes.</p>
+
+<p>He had gone to a preparatory school when he was twelve. It was eight
+years before he got into the freshman class of the college that had been
+selected as the one best qualified to give him a degree, and there is no
+telling how long he might have remained there, faculty willing, had it
+not been for the interfering "mustard girl." He could throw a hammer
+farther and run the hundred faster than any youth in the freshman class,
+and he could handle an oar with the best of them, but as he had spent
+nearly eight years in acquiring this proficiency to the exclusion of
+anything else it is not surprising that he excelled in these pursuits,
+nor is it surprising that he possessed a decided aversion for the things
+that are commonly taught in college by studious-looking gentlemen who do
+not even belong to the athletic association and have forgotten their
+college yell.</p>
+
+<p>George boasted, in his freshman year, that if the faculty would let him
+alone he could easily get through the four years without flunking a
+single thing in athletics. It was during the hockey season, just after
+the Christmas<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> holidays, that he married the pretty "mustard girl" and
+put an abrupt end to what must now be regarded as a superficial
+education.</p>
+
+<p>He carried his athletic vigour into the brokerage offices, however. No
+one could accuse him of being lazy, and no one could say that he did not
+make an effort. He possessed purpose and determination after a fashion,
+for he was proud and resentful; but he lacked perspective, no matter
+which way he looked for it. Behind him was a foggy recollection of the
+things he should have learned, and ahead was the dark realisation that
+the world is made up principally of men who cannot do the mile under
+thirty minutes but who possess amazing powers of endurance when it comes
+to running circles around the man who is trained to do the hundred yard
+dash in ten seconds flat.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes after Braden Thorpe's departure from the Tresslyn
+drawing-room, young George entered the house and stamped upstairs to his
+combination bed-chamber and sitting-room on the top floor. He always
+went upstairs three steps at a time, as if in a hurry to have it over
+with. He had a room at the top of the house because he couldn't afford
+one lower down. A delayed sense of compunction had ordered Mrs. Tresslyn
+to insist upon George's paying his own way through life, now that he was
+of age and working for himself.</p>
+
+<p>When George found it impossible to pay his week's reckoning out of his
+earnings, he blithely borrowed the requisite amount&mdash;and a little
+over&mdash;from friends down-town, and thereby enjoyed the distinction of
+being uncommonly prompt in paying his landlady on the dot. So much for
+character-building.</p>
+
+<p>And now one of these "muckers" down-town was annoying him with
+persistent demands for the return of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> numerous small loans extending
+over a period of nineteen months. That sort of thing isn't done among
+gentlemen, according to George Tresslyn's code. For a month or more he
+had been in the humiliating position of being obliged to dodge the
+fellow, and he was getting tired of it. The whole amount was well under
+six hundred dollars, and as he had made it perfectly plain to the beggar
+that he was drawing ten per cent. on the loans, he couldn't see what
+sense there was in being in such a hurry to collect. On the other hand,
+as the beggar wasn't receiving the interest, it is quite possible that
+he could not look at the situation from George's point of view.</p>
+
+<p>Young Mr. Tresslyn finally had reached the conclusion that he would have
+to ask his mother for the money. He knew that the undertaking would
+prove a trying one, so he dashed up to his room for the purpose of
+fortifying himself with a stiff drink of benedictine.</p>
+
+<p>Having taken the drink, he sat down for a few minutes to give it a
+chance to become inspirational. Then he skipped blithely down to his
+mother's boudoir and rapped on the door,&mdash;not timidly or imploringly but
+with considerable authority. Receiving no response, he moved on to
+Anne's sitting-room, whence came the subdued sound of voices in
+conversation. He did not knock at Anne's door, but boldly opened it and
+advanced into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello! Here you are," said George amiably.</p>
+
+<p>He was met by a cold, disapproving stare from his mother and a little
+gasp of dismay from Anne. It was quite apparent that he was an intruder.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you would be good enough to knock before entering, George," said
+Mrs. Tresslyn severely.</p>
+
+<p>"I did," said George, "but you were not in. I always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> knock at your
+door, mother. You can't say that I've ever forgotten to do it." He
+looked aggrieved. "You surely don't mean that I ought to knock at Anne's
+door?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. What do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he began, depositing his long body on the couch and preparing to
+stretch out, "I'd like to kiss both of you if you'll let me."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be silly," said Anne, "and don't put your feet on that clean
+chintz."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said he cheerfully. "My, how lovely the bride is looking
+to-day! I wish old Tempy could see you now. He'd&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If you are going to be disagreeable, George, you may get out at once,"
+said Mrs. Tresslyn.</p>
+
+<p>"I never felt less like being objectionable in my life," said he, "so if
+you don't mind I'll stay awhile. By the way, Anne, speaking of
+disagreeable things, I am sure I saw Brady Thorpe on the avenue a bit
+ago. Has your discarded skeleton come back with a key to your closet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Braden is in New York," said his mother acidly. "Is it necessary for
+you to be vulgar, George?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," said he. "When did he arrive? I hope you don't see
+anything vulgar in that, mother," he made haste to add.</p>
+
+<p>"He reached New York to-day, I think. He has been here to see me. He has
+gone away. There is nothing more to be said, so please be good enough to
+consider the subject&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Gee! but I'd like to have heard what he had to say to you!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad that you didn't," said Anne, "for if you had you might have
+been under the painful necessity of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> calling him to account for it, and
+I don't believe you'd like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Facetious, eh? Well, my mind is relieved at any rate. He spoke up like
+a little man, didn't he, mother? I thought he would. And I'll bet you
+gave him as good as he sent, so he's got his tail between his legs now
+and yelping for mercy. How does he look, Anne? Handsome as ever?"</p>
+
+<p>"Anne did not see him."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course she didn't. How stupid of me. Where is he stopping?"</p>
+
+<p>"With his grandfather, I suppose," said Mrs. Tresslyn, as tolerant as
+possible.</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally. I should have known that without asking. Getting the old boy
+braced up for the wedding, I suppose. Pumping oxygen into him, and all
+that sort of thing. And that reminds me of something else. I may give
+myself the pleasure of a personal call upon my prospective
+brother-in-law to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" cried his mother sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Yep," said George blithely. "I may have to do it. It's purely a
+business matter, so don't worry. I shan't say a word about the wedding.
+Far be it from me to distress an old gentleman about&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What business can you have with Mr. Thorpe?" demanded his mother.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, as I don't believe in keeping secrets from you, mother, I'll
+explain. You see, I want to see if I can't negotiate the sale of a
+thousand dollar note. Mr. Thorpe may be in the market to buy a good,
+safe, gilt-edge note&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Come to the point. Whose note are you trying to sell?"</p>
+
+<p>"My own," said George promptly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Anne laughed. "You would spell gilt with a letter u inserted before the
+i, in that case, wouldn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I give you my word," said George, "I don't know how to spell it. The
+two words sound exactly alike and I'm always confusing them."</p>
+
+<p>His mother came and stood over him. "George, you are not to go to Mr.
+Thorpe with your pecuniary difficulties. I forbid it, do you
+understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Forbid it, mother? Great Scot, what's wrong in an honest little
+business transaction? I shall give him the best of security. If he
+doesn't care to let me have the money on the note, that's his affair.
+It's business, not friendship, I assure you. Old Tempy knows a good
+thing when he sees it. I shall also promise to pay twenty per cent.
+interest for two years from date. Two years, do you understand? If
+anything should happen to him before the two years are up, I'd still owe
+the money to his estate, wouldn't I? You can't deny that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop! Not another word, sir! Am I to believe that I have a son who is
+entirely devoid of principle? Are you so lacking in pride that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It depends entirely on how you spell the word, princi<i>pal</i> or with a
+<i>ple</i>. I am entirely devoid of the one ending in pal, and I don't see
+what pride has to do with it anyway. Ask Anne. She can tell you all that
+is necessary to know about the Tresslyn pride."</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up!" said Anne languidly.</p>
+
+<p>"It's just this way, mother," said George, sitting up, with a frown.
+"I've got to have five or six hundred dollars. I'll be honest with you,
+too. I owe nearly that much to Percy Wintermill, and he is making
+himself infernally obnoxious about it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Percy Wintermill? Have you been borrowing money from him?"</p>
+
+<p>"In a way, yes. That is, I've been asking him for it and he's been
+lending it to me. I don't think I've ever used the word borrow in a
+single instance. I hate the word. I simply say: 'Percy, let me take
+twenty-five for a week or two, will you?' and Percy says, 'All right,
+old boy,' and that's all there is to it. Percy's been all right up to a
+few weeks ago. In fact, I don't believe he would have mentioned the
+matter at all if Anne hadn't turned him down on New Year's Eve. Why the
+deuce did you refuse him, Anne? He'd always been decent till you did
+that. Now he's perfectly impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"You know perfectly well why I refused him," said Anne, lifting her
+eyebrows slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"Right-o! It was because you were engaged to Brady Thorpe. I quite
+forgot. I apologise. You were quite right in refusing him. Be that as it
+may, however, Percy is as sore as a crab. I can't go around owing money
+to a chap who has been refused by my sister, can I? One of the
+Wintermills, too. By Jove, it's awful!" He looked extremely distressed.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not to go to Mr. Thorpe," said his mother from the chair into
+which she had sunk in order to preserve a look of steadiness. A fine
+moisture had come out upon her upper lip. "You must find an honourable
+way in which to discharge your debts."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't my note as good as anybody's?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"No. It isn't worth a dollar."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but it <i>will</i> be if Mr. Thorpe buys it," said he in triumph. "He
+could discount it for full value, if he wanted to. That's precisely what
+makes it good. I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> afraid you don't know very much about high finance,
+mother dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Please go away, George," complained Anne. "Mother and I have a great
+deal to talk about, and you are a dreadful nuisance when you discover a
+reason for coming home so long before dinner-time. Can't you pawn
+something?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be ridiculous," said George.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you borrow money from Percy Wintermill?" demanded Mrs.
+Tresslyn.</p>
+
+<p>"There you go, mother, using that word 'borrow' again. I wish you
+wouldn't. It's a vulgar word. You might as well say, 'Why did you
+<i>swipe</i> money from Percy Wintermill?' He lent it to me because he
+realised how darned hard-up we are and felt sorry for me, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"For heaven's sake, George, don't tell me that you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't look so horrified, mother," he interrupted. "I didn't tell him we
+were hard-up. I merely said, from time to time, 'Let me take fifty,
+Percy.' I can't help it if he <i>suspects</i>, can I? And say, Anne, he was
+so terribly in love with you that he would have let me take a thousand
+any time I wanted it, if I'd had occasion to ask him for it. You ought
+to be thankful that I didn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't drag me into it," said Anne sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"I admit I was fooled all along," said he, with a rueful sigh. "I had an
+idea that you'd be tickled to death to marry into the Wintermill family.
+Position, money, family jewels, and all that sort of thing. Everything
+desirable except Percy. And then, just when I thought something might
+come of it, you up and get engaged to Brady Thorpe, keeping it secret
+from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> public into the bargain. Confound it, you didn't even tell me
+till last fall. Your stupid secretiveness allowed me to go on getting
+into Percy's debt, when a word from you might have saved me a lot of
+trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you kindly leave the room, George?" said his mother, arising.</p>
+
+<p>"Percy is making himself fearfully obnoxious," went on George ominously.
+"For nearly three weeks I've been dodging him, and it can't go on much
+longer. One of these fine days, mother, a prominent member of the
+Wintermill family is going to receive a far from exclusive thrashing.
+That's the only way I can think of to stop him, if I can't raise the
+money to pay him up. Some day I'm going to refrain from dodging and he
+is going to run right square into this." He held up a brawny fist. "I'm
+going to hold it just so, and it won't be too high for his nose, either.
+Then I'm going to pick him up and turn him around, with his face toward
+the Battery, and kick just as hard as I know how. I'll bet my head he'll
+not bother me about money after that&mdash;unless, of course, he's cad enough
+to sue me. I don't think he'll do that, however, being a proud and
+haughty Wintermill. I suppose we'll all be eliminated from the
+Wintermill invitation list after that, and it may be that we'll go
+without a fashionable dinner once in awhile, but what's all that to the
+preservation of the family dignity?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn leaned suddenly against a chair, and even Anne turned to
+regard her tall brother with a look of real dismay.</p>
+
+<p>"How much do you owe him?" asked the former, controlling her voice with
+an effort.</p>
+
+<p>"Five hundred and sixty-five dollars, including interest. A pitiful sum
+to get thrashed for, isn't it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And you were planning to get the money from Mr. Thorpe to pay Percy?"</p>
+
+<p>"To keep Percy from getting licked, would be the better way to put it. I
+think it's uncommonly decent of me."</p>
+
+<p>"You are&mdash;you are a bully, George,&mdash;a downright bully," flared Anne,
+confronting him with blazing eyes. "You have no right to frighten mother
+in this way. It's cowardly."</p>
+
+<p>"He doesn't frighten me, dear," said Mrs. Tresslyn, but her lips
+quivered. Turning to her son, she continued: "George, if you will mail a
+check to Percy this minute, I will draw one for you. A Tresslyn cannot
+owe money to a Wintermill. We will say no more about it. The subject is
+closed. Sit down there and draw a check for the amount, and I will sign
+it. Rawson will post it."</p>
+
+<p>George turned his head away, and lowered his chin. A huskiness came
+quickly into his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm&mdash;I'm ashamed of myself, mother,&mdash;I give you my word I am. I came
+here intending to ask you point-blank to advance me the money. Then the
+idea came into my head to work the bluff about old Mr. Thorpe. That grew
+into Percy's prospective thrashing. I'm sorry. It's the first time I've
+ever tried to put anything over on you."</p>
+
+<p>"Fill in the check, please," she said coldly. "I've just been drawing a
+few for the dressmakers&mdash;a few that Anne has just remembered. I shan't
+in the least mind adding one for Percy. He isn't a dressmaker but if I
+were asked to select a suitable occupation for him I don't know of one
+he'd be better qualified to pursue. Fill it in, please."</p>
+
+<p>Her son looked at her admiringly. "By Jove, mother, you are a wonder.
+You never miss fire. I'd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> give a thousand dollars, if I had it, to see
+old Mrs. Wintermill's face if that remark could be repeated to her."</p>
+
+<p>A faint smile played about his mother's lips. After all, there was
+honest tribute in the speech of this son of hers.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be worse than a bloody nose for Percy," said Anne, slipping an
+arm around her mother's waist. "But I don't like what you said about
+<i>me</i> and the dressmakers. I must have gowns. It isn't quite the same as
+George's I.O.U. to Percy, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be selfish, Anne," cried George, jerking a chair up to the
+escritoire and scrambling among the papers for a pen. "You won't have to
+worry long. You'll soon be so rich that the dressmakers won't dare to
+send you a bill."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a moment, George," said Mrs. Tresslyn abruptly. "If you do not
+promise to refrain from saying disagreeable things to Anne, I shall
+withdraw my offer to help you out of this scrape."</p>
+
+<p>George faced her. "Does that mean that I am to put my O.K. upon this
+wedding of Anne's?" His look of good-nature disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"It means that you are not to comment upon it, that's all," said his
+mother. "You have said quite enough. There is nothing more that you can
+add to an already sufficiently distasteful argument."</p>
+
+<p>George swallowed hard as he bent over the checkbook. "All right, mother,
+I'll try to keep my trap closed from now on. But I don't want you to
+think that I'm taking this thing pleasantly. I'll say for the last
+time,&mdash;I hope,&mdash;that it's a darned crime, and we'll let it go at that."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. We will let it go at that."</p>
+
+<p>"Great Scot!" burst from his lips as he whirled in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> the fragile chair to
+face the women of the house. "I just can't help feeling as I do about
+it. I can't bear to think of Anne,&mdash;my pretty sister Anne,&mdash;married to
+that old rummy. Why, she's fit to be the wife of a god. She's the
+prettiest girl in New York and she'd be one of the best if she had half
+a chance. A fellow like Braden Thorpe would make a queen of her, and
+that's just what she ought to be. Oh, Lord! To think of her being
+married to that burnt-out, shrivelled-up&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"George! That will do, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>His sister was staring at him in utter perplexity. Something like wonder
+was growing in her lovely, velvety eyes. Never before had she heard such
+words as these from the lips of her big and hitherto far from
+considerate brother, the brother who had always begrudged her the
+slightest sign of favour from their mother, who had blamed her for
+securing by unfair means more than her share of the maternal
+peace-offerings.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the big boy dug his knuckles into his eyes and turned away,
+muttering an oath of mortification. Anne sprang to his side. Her hands
+fell upon his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing, George? Are&mdash;are you crazy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Crazy <i>nothing</i>," he choked out, biting his lip. "Go away, Anne. I'm
+just a damned fool, that's all. I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, he's&mdash;he's crying," whispered Anne, bewildered. "What is it,
+George?" For the first time in her life she slipped an affectionate arm
+about him and laid her cheek against his sleek, black hair. "Buck up,
+little boy; don't take it like this. I'll&mdash;I'll be all right. I'll&mdash;oh,
+I'll never forget you for feeling as you do, George. I didn't think
+you'd really care so much."</p>
+
+<p>"Why,&mdash;why, Anne, of course I care," he gulped.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> "Why shouldn't I care?
+Aren't you my sister, and I your brother? I'd be a fine mess of a thing
+if I didn't care. I tell you, mother, it's awful! You know it is! It is
+a queer thing for a brother to say, I suppose, but&mdash;but I <i>do</i> love
+Anne. All my life I've looked upon her as the finest thing in the world.
+I've been mean and nasty and all that sort of thing and I'm always
+saying rotten things to her, but, darn it, I&mdash;I do love my pretty
+sister. I ought to hate you, Anne, for this infernal thing you are
+determined to do&mdash;I ought to, do you understand, but I can't, I just
+can't. It's the rottenest thing a girl can do, and you're doing it,
+I&mdash;oh, say, what's the matter with me? Sniffling idiot! I say, where the
+devil <i>do</i> you keep your pen?" Wrathfully he jerked a pile of note paper
+and blotters off the desk, scattering them on the floor. "I'll write the
+check, mother, and I'll promise to do my best hereafter about Anne and
+old Tempy. And what's more, I'll not punch Percy's nose, so you needn't
+be afraid he'll turn it up at us."</p>
+
+<p>The pen scratched vigorously across the check. His mother was regarding
+him with a queer expression in her eyes. She had not moved while he was
+expressing himself so feelingly about Anne. Was it possible that after
+all there was something fine in this boy of hers? His simple, genuine
+outburst was a revelation to her.</p>
+
+<p>"I trust this may be the last time that you will come to me for money in
+this way, George," she said levelly. "You must be made to realise that I
+cannot afford such luxuries as these. You have made it impossible for me
+to refuse you this time. I cannot allow a son of mine to be in debt to a
+Wintermill. You must not borrow money. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He looked up, grinning. "There you go again with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> that middle-class
+word, mother. But I'll forgive you this once on condition that you never
+use it again. People in our walk of life never <i>borrow</i> anything but
+trouble, you know. We don't borrow money. We arrange for it
+occasionally, but God forbid that we should ever become so common as to
+borrow it. There you are, filled in and ready for your
+autograph&mdash;payable to Percy Reginald Van Alstone Wintermill. I put his
+whole name in so that he'd have to go to the exertion of signing it all
+on the back. He hates work worse than poison. I'm glad you didn't accept
+him, Anne. It would be awful to have to look up to a man who is so
+insignificant that you'd have to look down upon him at the same time."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn signed the check. "I will have Rawson post it to him at
+once," she said. "There goes one of your gowns, Anne,&mdash;five hundred and
+sixty-five dollars."</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't miss it, mother dear," said Anne cheerfully. She had linked an
+arm through one of George's, much to the surprise and embarrassment of
+the tall young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Bully girl," said he awkwardly. "Just for that I'll kiss the bride next
+month, and wish her the best of luck. I&mdash;I certainly hope you'll have
+better luck than I had."</p>
+
+<p>"There's still loads of luck ahead for you, George," said she, a little
+wistfully. "All you've got to do is to keep a sharp lookout and you'll
+find it some day&mdash;sooner than I, I'm sure. You'll find the right girl
+and&mdash;zip! Everything will be rosy, old boy!"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled wryly. "I've lost the right girl, Anne."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Tresslyn sharply. Her eyes narrowed as she
+looked into his. "You ought to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> get down on your knees and thank God
+that you are not married to that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a second, mother," he broke in. "I'm afraid I shall have to ask
+you to let her alone, now that you're rid of her, just as I'm expected
+to let old Tempy slide by without noticing him."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense," again said Mrs. Tresslyn, but this time with less confidence
+in her voice. She looked intently into her son's set face and fear was
+revived in her soul, an ever-present fear that slept and roused itself
+with sickening persistency.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll hang her up in the family closet, if you don't mind, alongside of
+Brady Thorpe, and we'll never mention her again if I can help it. I must
+say, though, that our skeletons are uncommonly attractive, aren't they,
+Anne? No dry, rattling bones in our closets, are there?" He squeezed her
+arm playfully, and was amazed when she jerked it away.</p>
+
+<p>"I was nice to you, George, and this is the way you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me, please. I didn't mean it in an offensive way. I just took
+it for granted that we'd understand each other. At any rate, we've got
+one thing to be thankful for. There are no Wintermill skeletons hanging
+in our closets. We've both succeeded in dodging them, praise the Lord."</p>
+
+<p>It so happened that Percy's excessively homely sister had been
+considered at one time as a most desirable helpmate for the rapidly
+developing George, and it is barely possible that the little mustard
+girl upset a social dynasty.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mr. Thorpe was as good as his word. He arranged for the meeting between
+Braden and Anne, but with characteristic astuteness laid his plans so
+that they were to come upon each other unexpectedly. It happened on the
+second day after his talk with Braden.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Thorpe's plan involved other people as well as the two most vitally
+interested. There was to be a meeting at his house late in the afternoon
+for the purpose of signing the ante-nuptial contract already agreed
+upon. Five o'clock was the hour set for the gathering. Lawyers
+representing both parties were to be there, with Mrs. Tresslyn, George
+and Anne, and Mr. Thorpe's private secretary, who, with Dr. Bates, was
+to serve as a witness to the instrument.</p>
+
+<p>At noon Wade delivered a letter to Miss Tresslyn in which Mr. Thorpe
+said that he would be pleased if she would accompany him to Tiffany's
+for the purpose of selecting a string of pearls. He made it quite clear
+that she was to go alone with him, playfully mentioning his desire to be
+the only witness to her confusion when confronted by the "obsequious
+salesman and his baubles from the sea." If quite agreeable to her he
+would make an appointment with the jeweller for 3.30 and would call for
+her in person. After that, he continued, the signing of a contract for
+life would not seem such a portentous undertaking, and they could go to
+the meeting with hearts as light as air. It was a cheerful, even gay
+little missive, but she was not for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> an instant blind to the irony that
+lay between the lines.</p>
+
+<p>Anne selected the pearls that he had chosen in advance of their visit to
+Tiffany's. He did not tell her that he had instructed the jeweller to
+make up a string of pearls for her inspection, with the understanding
+that she was to choose for herself from an assortment of half-a-dozen
+beautiful offerings, no price to be mentioned. He was quite sure that
+she would not even consider the cost. He credited her with an honest
+scorn for sentimentality; she would make no effort to glorify him for an
+act that was so obviously a part of their unsentimental compact. There
+would be no gushing over this sardonic tribute to her avarice. She would
+have herself too well in hand for that.</p>
+
+<p>They were about her neck when she entered the house near Washington
+Square almost an hour before the time appointed for the conference. In
+her secret but subdued pleasure over acquiring the costly present, she
+had lost all count of time. That was a part of Mr. Thorpe's expensive
+programme.</p>
+
+<p>All the way down in the automobile she had been estimating the value of
+her new possession. On one point she was satisfied: there were few
+handsomer strings in New York than hers. She would have to keep them in
+a safe place,&mdash;a vault, no doubt. Nearly every matron of her
+acquaintance made a great deal of the fact that she had to buy a safe in
+which to store her treasures. There was something agreeable&mdash;subtly
+agreeable&mdash;in owning jewels that would have to be kept in one of those
+staunch, opulent looking safes. She experienced a thrill of satisfaction
+by describing herself in advance, as one of the women with pearls. And
+there was additional gratification in the knowledge that she could
+hardly be called a matron in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> the strict sense of the word. She was glad
+that she was too young for that. She tried to recall the names of all
+the women who possessed pearls like these, and the apparent though
+undeclared age of each. There was not one among them who was under
+forty. Most of them had endured many years of married life before
+acquiring what she was to have at the outset. Mrs. Wintermill, for
+instance: she was sixty-two or three, and had but recently come into a
+string of pearls not a whit more valuable than the one that now adorned
+her neck and lay hidden beneath the warm fur collar of her coat.</p>
+
+<p>Her calculations suddenly hit upon something that could be used as a
+basis. Mrs. Wintermill's pearls had cost sixty-five thousand dollars.
+Sixty-five thousand dollars! She could not resist the impulse to shoot a
+swift, startled look out of the corners of her eyes at the silent old
+man beside her. That was a lot of money! And it was money that he was
+under no obligation to expend upon her. It was quite outside the
+contract. She was puzzled. Why this uncalled for generosity? A queer,
+sickening doubt assailed her.</p>
+
+<p>"Are&mdash;are these pearls really and truly to be mine?" she asked. "Mine to
+keep forever?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, my dear," he said, looking at her so oddly that she flushed.
+He had read the thought that was in her mind. "I give and bequeath them
+to you this day, to have and to hold forever," he added, with a smile
+that she could not fail to understand.</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted to be sure," she said, resorting to frankness.</p>
+
+<p>When they entered the Thorpe home, Wade was waiting in the hall with the
+butler. His patient, set smile did not depart so much as the fraction of
+an inch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> from its habitual condition. His head was cocked a little to
+one side.</p>
+
+<p>"Are we late, Wade?" inquired Mr. Thorpe.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," said Wade. "No one has come." He glanced up at the tall clock
+on the landing. "It is a quarter past four, sir. Mrs. Tresslyn
+telephoned a few minutes ago, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! That she would be late?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. To inquire if&mdash;ahem!&mdash;if Mr. Braden was likely to be here this
+afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>Anne started violently. A quick, hunted expression leaped into her eyes
+as she looked about her. Something rushed up into her throat, something
+that smothered.</p>
+
+<p>"You informed her, of course, that Mr. Braden declines to honour us with
+his presence," said Mr. Thorpe suavely.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, in a way."</p>
+
+<p>"Ahem! Well, my dear, make yourself quite at home. Go into the library,
+do. You'll find a roaring fire there. Murray, take Miss Tresslyn's coat.
+Make her comfortable. Come, Wade, your arm. Forgive me, Anne, if I leave
+you to yourself for a few minutes. My joy at having you here is shorn of
+its keenness by a long-established age that demands house-boots, an
+eider-down coat and&mdash;Murray, what the devil do you mean by letting the
+house get so cold as all this? It's like a barn. Are the furnaces out.
+What am I paying that rascally O'Toole for? Tell him to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is quite comfortable, Mr. Thorpe," said Anne, with a slight shiver
+that was not to be charged to the defective O'Toole.</p>
+
+<p>The long, wide hall was dark and grim. Wade was dark and grim, and
+Murray too, despite his rotundity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> There were lank shadows at the
+bottom of the hall, grim projections of objects that stood for
+ornamentation: a suit of armour, a gloomy candlestick of prodigious
+stature, and a thin Italian cabinet surmounted by an urn whose unexposed
+contents might readily have suggested something more sinister than the
+dust of antiquity. The door to the library was open. Fitful red shadows
+flashed dully from the fireplace across the room, creeping out into the
+hall and then darting back again as if afraid to venture. The waning
+sunlight struggled through a curtained window at the top of the stairs.
+There was dusk in the house. Evening had fallen there.</p>
+
+<p>Anne stood in the middle of the library, divested of her warm fur coat.
+Murray was poking the fire, and cheerful flames were leaping upward in
+response to the call to wake. She had removed one of her gloves. With
+the slim, bared fingers she fondled the pearls about her neck, but her
+thoughts were not of baubles. She was thinking of this huge room full of
+shadows, shadows through which she would have to walk for many a day,
+where night would always be welcome because of the light it demanded.</p>
+
+<p>It was a man's room. Everything in it was massive, substantial. Big
+chairs, wide lounges, and a thick soft carpet of dull red that deprived
+the footfall of its sound. Books mounted high,&mdash;almost to the
+ceiling,&mdash;filling all the spaces left unused by the doors and windows.
+Heavy damask curtains shut out the light of day. She wondered why they
+had been drawn so early, and whether they were always drawn like this.
+Near the big fireplace, with its long mantelpiece over which hung
+suspended the portrait of an early Knickerbocker gentleman with ruddy,
+even convivial countenance,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> stood a long table, a reading lamp at the
+farther end. Books, magazines, papers lay in disorder upon this table.</p>
+
+<p>She recalled something that Braden once had told her: his grandfather
+always "raised Cain" with any one who happened to be guilty of what he
+called criminal orderliness in putting the table to rights. He wanted
+the papers and magazines left just as they were, so that he could put
+his hand upon them without demanding too much of a servant's powers of
+divination. More than one parlour-maid had been dismissed for offensive
+neatness.</p>
+
+<p>She closed her eyes for a second. A faint line, as of pain, appeared
+between them. In this room Braden Thorpe had been coddled and scolded,
+in this room he had romped and studied&mdash;She opened her eyes quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Murray," she said, in a low voice; "you are quite sure that Mr. Braden
+is&mdash;is out?"</p>
+
+<p>The old butler straightened up from his task, his hand going to his back
+as if to keep it from creaking. "Yes, Miss Tresslyn, quite sure." He
+hesitated for a moment. "I think he said that he intended to give
+himself the pleasure of a call&mdash;ahem! I beg pardon. Yes, he is quite
+out&mdash;I should say, I'm quite sure he is out." He was confused, a most
+unheard of thing in Murray.</p>
+
+<p>"But he will return&mdash;soon?" She took a step or two nearer the door,
+possessed of a sudden impulse to run,&mdash;to run swiftly away.</p>
+
+<p>"I think not, miss," said he. "He is not expected to be here during
+the&mdash;er&mdash;you might say, the&mdash;ahem!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have a look about the room," said Anne softly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> She felt that she
+was going to like Murray. She wanted him to like her. The butler may
+have caught the queer little note in her voice, or he may have seen the
+hunted look in her eyes before she turned them away. At any rate, he
+poked the fire vigorously once more. It was his way of saying that she
+might depend upon him. Then he went out of the room, closing the door
+behind him.</p>
+
+<p>She started violently, and put her hand to her heart. She had the queer,
+uncanny feeling that she was locked in this sombre room, that she would
+never be free again.</p>
+
+<p>In a room upstairs, Mr. Templeton Thorpe was saying to Wade:</p>
+
+<p>"Is my grandson in his room?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. He came in at four and has been waiting for you, as you
+directed, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him that I would like to see him at once in the library," said Mr.
+Thorpe.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," said Wade, and for the first time in years his patient smile
+assumed the proportions of a grin. He did not have to be told that
+Anne's presence in the house was not to be made known to Braden. All
+that he was expected to do was to inform the young man that his
+grandfather wanted to see him in the library,&mdash;at once.</p>
+
+<p>And so it came to pass that three minutes later, Braden and Anne were
+face to face with each other, and old Mr. Thorpe had redeemed his
+promise.</p>
+
+<p>Of the two, Braden was the more surprised. The girl's misgivings had
+prepared her for just such a crisis as this. Something told her the
+instant she set foot inside the house that she was to be tricked. In a
+flash she realised that Mr. Thorpe himself was responsible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> for the
+encounter she had dreaded. It was impossible to suspect Braden of being
+a party to the scheme. He was petrified. There could be no doubt that he
+had been tricked quite as cleverly as she.</p>
+
+<p>But what could have been in the old man's design? Was it a trap? Did he
+expect her to rush into Braden's arms? Was he lurking behind some
+near-by curtain to witness her surrender? Was he putting her to the
+test, or was it his grandson who was on trial?</p>
+
+<p>Here was the supreme crisis in the life of Anne Tresslyn: the turning
+point. Her whole being cried out against this crafty trick. One word now
+from Braden would have altered the whole course of her life. In eager
+silence she stood on the thin edge of circumstance, ready to fall as the
+wind blew strongest. She was in revolt. If this stupefied, white-faced
+young man had but called out to her: "Anne! Anne, my darling! Come!" she
+would have laughed in triumph over the outcome of the old man's test,
+and all the years of her life would have been filled with sweetness. She
+would have gone to him.</p>
+
+<p>But, alas, those were not the words that fell from his lips, and the
+fate of Anne Tresslyn was sealed as she stood there watching him with
+wide-spread eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I prefer to see you in your own home," he said, a flush of anger
+spreading over his face; "not here in my grandfather's house."</p>
+
+<p>There was no mistaking his meaning. He thought she had come there to see
+him,&mdash;ay, conceivably had planned this very situation! She started. It
+was like a slap in the face. Then she breathed once more, and realised
+that she had not drawn a breath since he entered the room. Her life had
+been standing still, waiting till these few stupendous seconds were
+over. Now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> they were gone and she could take up life where it had left
+off. The tightness in her throat relaxed. The crisis was over, the
+turning point was behind her. He had failed her, and he would have to
+pay. He would have to pay with months, even years of waiting. For it had
+never occurred to Anne Tresslyn to doubt that he would come to her in
+good and proper time!</p>
+
+<p>She could not speak at once. Her response was not ready. She was
+collecting herself. Given the time, she would rise above the mischief
+that confounded her. To have uttered the words that hung unuttered on
+her lips would have glorified him and brought shame to her pride forever
+more. Five words trembled there awaiting deliverance and they were good
+and honest words&mdash;"Take me back, Braden darling!" They were never
+spoken. They were formed to answer a different call from him. She
+checked them in time.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not come here to see you," she said at last, standing very
+straight beside the table. He was just inside the door leading to the
+hall. "Whose trick is this,&mdash;yours or Mr. Thorpe's?"</p>
+
+<p>Enlightenment flashed into his eyes. "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "He said
+he would do it, and he has made good. This is his way of&mdash;" He broke off
+in the middle of the sentence. In an instant he had whirled about and
+the door was closed with a bang.</p>
+
+<p>She started forward, her hand pressed to her quick-beating heart, real
+fear in her eyes. What was in his mind? Was this insanity? She had read
+of men driven mad by disappointment who brutally set upon and
+killed&mdash;But he was facing her now, and she stopped short. His jaw was
+set but there was no insane light in the eyes that regarded her so
+steadily. Somehow&mdash;and suddenly&mdash;her composure was restored.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> She was
+not afraid of him. She was not afraid of the hands and arms that had
+caressed her so tenderly, nor was she afraid of the words that were to
+fall from the lips that had kissed hers so many times. He was merely
+going to plead with her, and she was well prepared for that.</p>
+
+<p>For weeks and weeks she had been preparing herself for this unhappy
+moment. She knew that the time would come when she would have to face
+him and defend herself. She would have to deny the man she loved. She
+would have to tell him that she was going for a higher price than he
+could pay. The time had come and she was ready. The weakness of the
+minute before had passed&mdash;passed with his failure to strike when, with
+all her heart and soul, she wanted him to strike.</p>
+
+<p>"You need not be frightened," he said, subduing his voice with an
+effort. "Let us take time to steady ourselves. We have a good deal to
+say to each other. Let's be careful not to waste words, now that we're
+face to face at last."</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite calm," she said, stock-still beside the table. "Why should I
+be frightened? I am the last person in the world that you would strike,
+Braden." She was that sure of him!</p>
+
+<p>"Strike? Good God, why should that have entered your head?"</p>
+
+<p>"One never knows," she said. "I was startled. I was afraid&mdash;at first.
+You implied a moment ago that I had arranged for this meeting. Surely
+you understand that I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My grandfather arranged it," he interrupted. "There's no use beating
+about the bush. I told him that I would not believe this thing of you
+unless I had it from your own lips. You would not see me. You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> were not
+permitted to see me. I told him that you were being forced into this
+horrible marriage, that your mother was afraid to let me have a single
+word with you. He laughed at me. He said that you were going into it
+with your eyes open, that you were obeying your mother willingly, that
+you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me," she interrupted coldly. "Is your grandfather secreted
+somewhere near so that he may be able to enjoy the&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, and I don't care. Let him hear if he wants to. Why should
+either of us care? He knows all there is to know about you and he
+certainly appreciates my position. We may as well speak freely. It will
+not make the slightest difference, one way or the other, so far as he is
+concerned. He knows perfectly well that you are not marrying him for
+love, or respect, or even position. So let's speak plainly. I say that
+he arranged this meeting between us. He brought you here, and he sent
+upstairs for me to join him in this room. Well, you see he isn't here.
+We are quite alone. He is fair to both of us. He is giving me my chance
+and he is giving you yours. It only remains for us to settle the matter
+here and now. I know all of the details of this disgusting compact. I
+know that you are to have two million dollars settled upon you the day
+you are married&mdash;oh, I know the whole of it! Now, there's just one thing
+to be settled between you and me: are you going ahead with it or are you
+going to be an honest woman and marry the man you love?"</p>
+
+<p>He did not leave her much to stand upon. She had expected him to go
+about it in an entirely different way. She had counted upon an
+impassioned plea for himself, not this terse, cold-blooded, almost
+unemotional<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> summing up of the situation. For an instant she was at a
+loss. It was hard to look into his honest eyes. A queer, unformed doubt
+began to torment her, a doubt that grew into a question later on: was he
+still in love with her?</p>
+
+<p>"And what if I do not care to discuss my private affairs with you?" she
+said, playing for time.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't fence, Anne," he said sternly. "Answer the question. Wait. I'll
+put it in another form, and I want the truth. If you say to me that your
+mother is deliberately forcing you into this marriage I'll believe you,
+and I'll&mdash;I'll fight for you till I get you. I will not stand by and see
+you sacrificed, even though you may appear to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop, please. If you mean to ask <i>that</i> question, I'll answer it in
+advance. It is I, not my mother, who expects to marry Mr. Thorpe, and I
+am quite old enough and wise enough to know my own mind. So you need not
+put the question."</p>
+
+<p>He drew nearer. The table separated them as they looked squarely into
+each other's eyes through the fire-lit space that lay between.</p>
+
+<p>"Anne, Anne!" he cried hoarsely. "You must not, you shall not do this
+unspeakable thing! For God's sake, girl, if you have an atom of
+self-respect, the slightest&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't begin that, Braden!" she cut in, ominously. "I cannot permit you
+or any man to <i>say</i> such things to me, no matter what you may think.
+Bear that in mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you mind what I think about it, Anne?" he cried, his voice
+breaking.</p>
+
+<p>"See here, Braden," she said, in an abrupt, matter-of-fact manner, "it
+isn't going to do the least bit of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> good to argue the point. I am
+pledged to marry Mr. Thorpe and I shall do so if I live till the
+twenty-third of next month. Provided, of course, that he lives till that
+day himself. I have gone into it with my eyes open, as he says, and I am
+satisfied with my bargain. I suppose you will hate me to the end of your
+days. But if you think that I expect to hate myself, you are very much
+mistaken. Look! Do you see these pearls? They were not included in the
+bargain, and I could have gone on very well without them to the end of
+my term as the mistress of this house, but I accepted them from my
+fianc&eacute; to-day in precisely the same spirit in which they were given: as
+alms to the undeserving. Your grandfather did not want me to marry you.
+He is merely paying me to keep my hands <i>off</i>. That's the long and the
+short of it. I am not in the least deceived. You will say that I
+could&mdash;and should have told him to go to the devil. Well, I'm sorry to
+have to tell you that I couldn't see my way clear to doing that. I hope
+he <i>is</i> listening behind the curtains. We drove a hard bargain. He
+thought he could get off with a million. You must remember that he had
+deliberately disinherited you,&mdash;that much I know. His will is made. It
+will not be altered. You will be a poor man as wealth is reckoned in
+these days. But you will be a great man. You will be famous,
+distinguished, honoured. That is what he intends. He set out to
+sacrifice me in order that you might be spared. You were not to have a
+millstone about your neck in the shape of a selfish, unsacrificing wife.
+What rot! From the bottom of my heart, Braden,&mdash;if you will grant me a
+heart,&mdash;I hope and pray that you may go to the head of your profession,
+that you may be a great and good man. I do not ask you to believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> me
+when I say that I love you, and always&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"For God's sake, don't ask me to believe it! Don't add to the
+degradation you are piling up for yourself. Spare yourself that
+miserable confession. It is quite unnecessary to lie to me, Anne."</p>
+
+<p>"Lie? I am telling you the truth, Braden. I do love you. I can't help
+that, can I? You do not for an instant suspect that I love this
+doddering old man, do you? Well, I must love some one. That's natural,
+isn't it? Then, why shouldn't it be you? Oh, laugh if you will! It
+doesn't hurt me in the least. Curse me, if you like. I've made up my
+mind to go on with this business of marrying. We've had one unsuccessful
+marriage in our family of late. Love was at the bottom of it. You know
+how it has turned out, Braden. It&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe I know how it might have turned out if they had been left to
+themselves," said he bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>"She would have been a millstone, nevertheless," she argued.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't agree with you. George found his level in that little nobody,
+as you all have called her. Poor little thing, she was not so lucky as
+I. She did not have her eyes opened in time. She had no chance to
+escape. But we're not here to talk about Lutie Carnahan. I have told my
+grandfather that I intend to break this thing off if it is in my power
+to do so. I shall not give up until I know that you are actually
+married. It is a crime that must not&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How do you purpose breaking it off?" she inquired shrilly. Visions of a
+strong figure rising in the middle of the ceremony to cry out against
+the final words flashed into her mind. Would she have that to look
+forward to and dread?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I shall go on appealing to your honour, your decency, your
+self-respect, if not to the love you say you bear for me."</p>
+
+<p>She breathed easier. "And will you confine your appeals to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you might take it into your head to appeal to Mr. Thorpe's
+honour, decency, self-respect and love for you," she said, sullenly. "He
+is quite as guilty as I, remember."</p>
+
+<p>"He has quite a different object in view. He seems to feel that he is
+doing me a good turn, not an evil one."</p>
+
+<p>"Bosh!" She was angry. "And what will be your attitude toward me if you
+<i>do</i> succeed in preventing the marriage? Will you take me back as I was
+before this thing came up? Will you make me your wife, just as if
+nothing had happened? In view of my deliberate intention to deny you,
+will you forget everything and take me back?"</p>
+
+<p>He put his hand to his throat, and for a moment appeared to be
+struggling against himself. "I will take you back, Anne, as if nothing
+had happened, if you will say to me here and now that you will marry me
+to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>She stared at him, incredulous. Her heart began to beat rapidly once
+more and the anger died away. "You would do that, knowing me to be what
+I am?"</p>
+
+<p>"Knowing you to be what you <i>were</i>," he amended eagerly. "Oh, Anne, you
+are worth loving, you are pure of heart and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If I will marry you to-morrow?" she went on, watching his face closely.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But you must say it now&mdash;this instant.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> I will not grant you a
+moment's respite. If you do not say the word now, your chance is gone
+forever. It has to be now, Anne."</p>
+
+<p>"And if I refuse&mdash;what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would not marry you if you were the only woman on earth," he said
+flatly.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled. "Are you sure that you love me, Braden?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will love you when you become what you were,&mdash;a month ago," he said
+simply. "A girl worth the honour of being loved," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"Men sometimes love those who are not worth the honour," she said,
+feeling her way. "They cannot help themselves."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you say the word <i>now</i>?" he demanded hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>She sighed. It was a sigh of relief,&mdash;perhaps of triumph. He was safe
+for all time. He would come to her in the end. She was on solid ground
+once more.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid, Braden, that I cannot play fast and loose with a man as
+old as Mr. Thorpe," she said lightly.</p>
+
+<p>He muttered an oath. "Don't be a fool! What do you call your treatment
+of me? Fast and loose! Good Lord, haven't you played fast and loose with
+me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but you are young and enduring," she said. "You will get over it.
+He wouldn't have the time or strength to recover from the shock of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, for God's sake, don't talk like that! What do you call yourself?
+What&mdash;" He checked the angry words and after a moment went on, more
+quietly: "Now, see here, Anne, I'm through parleying with you.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> I shall
+go on trying to prevent this marriage, but succeed or fail, I don't want
+to see your face again as long as I live. I'm through with you. You
+<i>are</i> like your mother. You are a damned vampire. God, how I have loved
+and trusted you, how I have believed in you. I did not believe that the
+woman lived who could degrade herself as you are about to degrade
+yourself. I have had my eyes opened. All my life I have loved you
+without even knowing you. All my life I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"All my life I have loved you," she broke in cringingly.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed aloud. "The hell you have!" he cried out. "You have allowed
+me to hold you in my arms, to kiss you, to fondle you, and you have
+trembled with joy and passion,&mdash;and now you call it love! Love! You have
+never loved in your life and you never will. You call self-gratification
+by the name of love. Thank God, I know you at last. I ought to pity you.
+In all humanity I ought to pity a fellow creature so devoid of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" she cried, her face flaming red. "Go! Go away! You have said
+enough. I will hate you if you utter another word, and I don't want to
+hate you, Braden. I want to go on loving you all my life. I <i>must</i> go on
+loving you."</p>
+
+<p>"You have my consent," he said, ironically, bowing low before her.
+"Humanity compels me to grant you all the consolation you can find in
+deceiving yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait!" she cried out, as he turned toward the door. "I&mdash;I am hurt,
+Braden. Can't you see how you have hurt me? Won't you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you are hurt!" he shouted. "You squeal when you are hurt.
+You think only of yourself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> when you cry 'I am hurt'! Don't you ever
+think of any one else?" His hand grasped the big silver door-knob.</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to understand, if you can, why I am doing this thing you
+revile me for."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," he said curtly.</p>
+
+<p>She hurried her words, fearful that he might rush from the room before
+she could utter the belated explanation.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to be poor. I don't want to go through life as my mother
+has gone, always fighting for the things she most desired, always being
+behind the game she was forced to play. You can't understand,&mdash;you are
+too big and fine,&mdash;you cannot understand the little things, Braden. I
+want love and happiness, but I want the other, too. Don't you see that
+with all this money at my command I can be independent, I can be safe
+for all time, I can give more than myself in return for the love that I
+must have? Don't you understand why&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She was quite close to him when he interrupted the impassioned appeal.
+His hand shook as he held it up to check her approach.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all over, Anne. There is nothing more to be said. I understand
+everything now. May God forgive you," he said huskily.</p>
+
+<p>She stopped short. Her head went up and defiance shone in her face.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd rather have your forgiveness than God's," she said distinctly, "and
+since I may not ask for it now, I will wait for it, my friend. We love
+each other. Time mends a good many breaks. Good-bye! Some day I hope
+you'll come to see your poor old granny, and bring&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, for the love of heaven, have a little decency, Anne," he cried, his
+lip curling.</p>
+
+<p>But her pride was roused, it was in revolt against all of the finer
+instincts that struggled for expression.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better go now. Run upstairs and tell your grandfather that his
+scheme worked perfectly. Tell him everything I have said. He will not
+mind. I am sorry you will not remain to see the contract signed. I
+should like to have you for a witness. If you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Contract? What contract?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she said lightly, "just a little agreement on his part to make
+life endurable for me while he continues to live. We are to sign the
+paper at five o'clock. Yes, you'd better run along, Braden, or you'll
+find yourself the centre of a perplexed crowd. Before you go, please
+take a last look at me in my sepulchre. Here I stand! Am I not fair to
+look upon?"</p>
+
+<p>"God, I'd sooner see you in your grave than here," he grated out. "You'd
+be better off, a thousand times."</p>
+
+<p>"This is my grave," she said, "or will be soon. I suppose I am not to
+count you among the mourners?"</p>
+
+<p>He slammed the door behind him, and she was alone.</p>
+
+<p>"How I hate people who slam doors," she said to herself.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>A fortnight passed. Preparations for the wedding went on in the Tresslyn
+home with little or no slackening of the tension that had settled upon
+the inmates with the advent of the disturber. Anne was now sullenly
+determined that nothing should intervene to prevent the marriage, unless
+an unkind Providence ordered the death of Templeton Thorpe. She was
+bitter toward Braden. Down in her soul, she knew that he was justified
+in the stand he had taken, and in that knowledge lay the secret of her
+revolt against one of the commands of Nature. He had treated her with
+the scorn that she knew she deserved; he had pronounced judgment upon
+her, and she confessed to herself that she was guilty as charged. That
+was the worst of it; she could pronounce herself guilty, and yet resent
+the justice of her own decision.</p>
+
+<p>In her desperation, she tried to hold old Mr. Thorpe responsible for the
+fresh canker that gnawed at her soul. But for that encounter in his
+library, she might have proceeded with confidence instead of the
+uneasiness that now attended her every step. She could not free herself
+of the fear that Braden might after all succeed in his efforts to
+persuade the old man to change his mind. True, the contract was signed,
+but contracts are not always sacred. They are made to be broken.
+Moreover, by no stretch of the imagination could this contract be looked
+upon as sacred and it certainly would not look pretty if exposed to a
+court of law. Her sole thought now was to have it all safely over with.
+Then perhaps she could smile once more.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In the home of the bridegroom, preparations for the event were scant and
+of a perfunctory nature. Mr. Templeton Thorpe ordered a new suit of
+clothes for himself&mdash;or, to be quite precise, he instructed Wade to
+order it. He was in need of a new suit anyway, he said, and he had put
+off ordering it for a long, long time, not because he was parsimonious
+but because he did not like going up town for the "try-on." He also had
+a new silk hat made from his special block, and he would doubtless be
+compelled to have his hair trimmed up a bit about the nineteenth or
+twentieth, if the weather turned a trifle warmer. Of course, there would
+be the trip to City Hall with Anne, for the licence. He would have to
+attend to that in person. That was one thing that Wade couldn't do for
+him. Wade bought the wedding-ring and saw to the engraving; he attended
+to the buying of a gift for the best man,&mdash;who under one of the phases
+of an all-enveloping irony was to be George Dexter Tresslyn!&mdash;and in the
+same expedition to the jewellers' purchased for himself a watch-fob as a
+self-selected gift from a master who had never given him anything in all
+his years of service except his monthly wage and a daily malediction.</p>
+
+<p>Braden Thorpe made the supreme effort to save his grandfather. Believing
+himself to be completely cured of his desire for Anne, he took the stand
+that there was no longer a necessity for the old gentleman to sacrifice
+himself to the greed of the Tresslyns. But Mr. Thorpe refused to listen
+to this new and apparently unprejudiced argument. He was firm in his
+determination to clip Anne's claws; he would take no chances with youth,
+ultimate propinquity, and the wiles of a repentant sinner.</p>
+
+<p>"You can guard against anything," said he in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> wisdom, "except the
+beautiful woman who repents. You never can tell what she'll do to make
+her repentance satisfactory to everybody concerned. So we'll take no
+chances with Anne. We'll put her in irons, my boy, so to speak."</p>
+
+<p>And so it was that Braden, worn and disspirited, gave up in despair and
+prepared for his return to London. He went before an examining board in
+New York first and obtained his licence to become a practising physician
+and surgeon, and, with a set expression in his disillusioned eyes,
+peered out into the future in quest of the fame that was to take the
+place of a young girl's love.</p>
+
+<p>He met his first patient in the Knickerbocker Caf&eacute;. Lunching alone there
+one day, a week before the date selected for sailing, he was accosted by
+an extremely gay and pretty young woman who came over from a table of
+four in a distant corner of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this Dr. Braden Thorpe?" she inquired, placing her hands on the back
+of the chair opposite and leaning forward with a most agreeable, even
+inviting smile.</p>
+
+<p>Her face was familiar. "Since day before yesterday," he replied, rising
+with a self-conscious flush.</p>
+
+<p>"May I sit down? I want to talk to you about myself." She sat down in
+the chair that an alert waiter pulled out for her.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid you are labouring under a misapprehension," he said. "I&mdash;I
+am not what you would call a practising physician as yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't you looking for patients?" she inquired. "Sit down, please."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't even an office, so why should I feel that I am entitled to a
+patient?" he said. "You see, I've<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> just got my licence to practice. As
+things go, I shouldn't have a client for at least two years. Are you
+looking for a doctor?"</p>
+
+<p>"I saw by the papers this morning that the grandson of Mr. Templeton
+Thorpe was a regular doctor. One of my friends over there pointed you
+out to me. What is your fee for an appendicitis operation, Dr. Thorpe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Good&mdash;ahem! I beg your pardon. You really startled me. I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's all right. I quite understand. Hard to grasp at first, isn't
+it? Well, I've got to have my appendix out sooner or later. It's been
+bothering me for a year, off and on. Everybody tells me I ought to have
+it out sometime when it isn't bothering me and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear young lady, I'm not the man you want. You ought to go to
+some&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll do just as well as any one, I'm sure. It's no trick to take out
+an appendix in these days. The fewer a doctor has snipped off, the less
+he charges, don't you know. So why shouldn't I, being quite poor, take
+advantage of your ignorance? The most intelligent surgeon in New York
+couldn't do any more than to snip it off, now could he? And he wouldn't
+be one-tenth as ignorant as you are about prices."</p>
+
+<p>She was so gay and na&iuml;ve about it that he curbed his amazement, and, to
+some extent, his embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose that it is also ignorance on my part that supplies me with
+office hours in a public restaurant from one to three o'clock," he said,
+with a very unprofessional grin.</p>
+
+<p>"What hospital do you work in?" she demanded, in a business-like tone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Humouring her, he mentioned one of the big hospitals in which he had
+served as an interne.</p>
+
+<p>"That suits me," she said. "Can you do it to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"For heaven's sake, madam, I&mdash;are you in earnest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Absolutely. I want to have it done right away. You see, I do a good
+deal of dancing, and&mdash;now, listen!" She leaned farther across the table,
+a serious little line appearing between her brows. "I want you to do it
+because I've always heard that you are one of the most earnest, capable
+and ambitious young men in the business. I'd sooner trust you than any
+one else, Dr. Thorpe. It has to be done by some one, so if I'm willing
+to take a chance with you, why shouldn't you take one with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have been in Europe for nearly three years. How could you possibly
+have heard all this about me?"</p>
+
+<p>"See that fellow over there facing us? The funny little chap with the
+baby moustache? He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's Simmy Dodge," cried Braden. "Are&mdash;are you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Just a friend, that's all. He's one of the finest chaps in New York.
+He's a gentleman. That's Mr. and Mrs. Rumsey Fenn,&mdash;the other two, I
+mean. You can't see them for the florist shop in between. They know you
+too, so&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"May I inquire why one of my friends did not bring you over and
+introduce me to you, Miss&mdash;er&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss, in a sort of way, Doctor, but still a Missus," she said amiably.
+"Well, I told them that I knew you quite well and I wouldn't let them
+come over. It's all right, though. We'll be partially related to each
+other by marriage before long, I understand; so it's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> all right. You
+see, I am Mrs. George Dexter Tresslyn."</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you are?" he gasped. "By Jove, I thought that your face was
+familiar. I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"One of the best advertised faces in New York about two years ago," she
+said, and he detected a plaintive note in the flippant remark. "Not so
+well-known nowadays, thank God. See here, Dr. Thorpe, I hope you won't
+think it out of place for me <i>to</i> congratulate you."</p>
+
+<p>"Congratulate me? My dear Mrs. Tresslyn, it is not I who am to be
+married. You confuse me with&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm congratulating you because you're not the one," said she, her eyes
+narrowing. "Bless your soul, I know what I'm talking about. But say no
+more. Let's get back to the appendix. Will you do the job for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now that we are acquainted with each other," he said, suppressing a
+natural excitement, "may we not go over and join Simmy and the Fenns?
+Don't you think you'd better consult with them before irrevocably
+committing yourself to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fine! We'll talk it over together, the whole lot of us. But, I say,
+don't forget that I've known you for years&mdash;through the family, of
+course. I want to thank you first for one thing, Dr. Thorpe. George used
+to tell me how you took my part in the&mdash;the smash-up. He said you wrote
+to him from Europe to be a man and stand by me in spite of everything.
+That's really what I've been wanting to say to you, more than the other.
+Still, I've got to have it out, so come on. Let's set a day. Mrs. Fenn
+will go up to the hospital with me. She's used to hospitals. Says she
+loves them. She's trying her best to have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> Mr. Fenn go in next week to
+have his out. She's had five operations and a baby. I'm awfully glad to
+know you, Dr. Thorpe. I've always wanted to. I'd like better than
+anything I know of to be your first regular patient. It will always be
+something to boast about in years to come. It will be splendid to say to
+people, 'Oh, yes, I am the first person that ever had her appendix
+removed by the celebrated Dr. Thorpe.' It will&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But I have removed a great many," he said, carried away by her
+sprightly good humour. "In my training days, so to speak."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," she cried, disappointed. Then her face
+brightened: "Still, I suppose you had to learn just where the thing is.
+It wouldn't do to go about stabbing people in the wrong place, just as
+if the appendix might be any little old where, would it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should say not," said he, arising and bowing very profoundly. Then he
+followed close behind her trim, smart figure as they threaded their way
+among the tables.</p>
+
+<p>So this was the "pretty little mustard girl" that all fashionable New
+York had talked about in the past and was dancing with in the present.
+This was the girl who refused to go to the dogs at the earnest behest of
+the redoubtable Mrs. Tresslyn. Somehow he felt that Fate had provided
+him with an unexpected pal!</p>
+
+<p>And, to his utter astonishment, he was prevailed upon to perform the
+operation! The Fenns and Simeon Dodge decided the matter for him.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall have to give up sailing next week," he said, as pleased as
+Punch but contriving to project a wry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> face. "I can't go away and leave
+my first bona-fide patient until she is entirely out of the woods."</p>
+
+<p>"I have engagements for to-morrow and Wednesday," said Mrs. Rumsey Fenn,
+after reflection. She was a rather pallid woman of thirty-five who might
+have been accused of being bored with life if she had not made so many
+successful efforts to prolong it.</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't happen to be your appendix, my dear," said her husband.</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness, I wish it were," said she, regretfully. "What I mean is that
+I can't go to the hospital with Lutie before,&mdash;let me see,&mdash;before
+Thursday. Can you wait that long, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ask Dr. Thorpe," said young Mrs. Tresslyn. "He is my doctor, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you all understand that I cannot go ahead and perform an
+operation without first determining&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you worry," said the patient. "My physician has been after me for
+a year to have it out. He'll back me up. I'll telephone him as soon as I
+get back home, and I'll have him call you up, Dr. Thorpe. Thanks ever so
+much. And, before I forget it, what is the fee to be? You see, I pay my
+own bills, so I've got to know the&mdash;the worst."</p>
+
+<p>"My fee will be even more reasonable than you hope, Mrs. Tresslyn," said
+Braden, smiling. "Just guess at the amount you'd feel able to pay and
+then divide it by two, and you'll have it."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me," cried Mrs. Fenn, "how perfectly satisfactory! Rumsey, you
+<i>must</i> have yours out this week. You're always talking about not being
+able to afford things, and here's a chance to save money in a way you
+never would have suspected."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord, Madge," exclaimed her husband, "I've never had a pain in my
+life. I wish you wouldn't keep nagging at me all the time to have an
+operation performed, whether I need it or not. Let my appendix alone.
+It's always treated me with extreme loyalty and respect, so why the
+deuce should I turn upon the poor thing and assassinate it?"</p>
+
+<p>"See here, Rumsey," said Simmy Dodge sagely, "if I were in your place
+I'd have a perfectly sound tooth pulled some time, just to keep it from
+aching when you're an old man. Or you might have your left leg amputated
+so that it couldn't be crushed in a railroad accident. You ought to do
+something to please Madge, old chap. She's been a thoughtful, devoted
+wife to you for twelve or thirteen years, and what have you ever done to
+please her? Nothing! You've never so much as had a crick in your neck or
+a pain that you couldn't account for, so do be generous, Rumsey.
+Besides, maybe you haven't got an appendix at all. Just think how you
+could crow over her if they couldn't find one, even after the most
+careful and relentless search over your entire system."</p>
+
+<p>"She's always wanting me to die or something like that," growled Fenn;
+"but when I talked of going to the Spanish War she went into hysterics."</p>
+
+<p>"We'd only been married a month, Rumsey," said his wife reproachfully.</p>
+
+<p>"But how could I have known that war was to be declared so soon?" he
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Braden and Simeon Dodge left the restaurant together. They were old
+friends, college-mates, and of the same age. Dodge had gone into the
+law-school after his academic course, and Thorpe into the medical
+college. Their ways did not part, however. Both<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> were looked upon as
+heirs to huge fortunes, and to both was offered the rather doubtful
+popularity that usually is granted to affluence. Thorpe accepted his
+share with the caution of the wise man, while Dodge, not a whit less
+capable, took his as a philanderer. He now had an office in a big
+down-town building, but he never went near it except when his partner
+took it into his head to go away for a month's vacation at the slack
+season of the year. At such periods Mr. Dodge, being ages younger than
+the junior member of the firm, made it his practice to go down to the
+office and attend to the business with an earnestness that surprised
+every one. He gave over frolicking and stuck resolutely to the
+"knitting" that Johnson had left behind. Possessed of a natural though
+thrifty intelligence,&mdash;one that wasted little in public,&mdash;and a latent
+energy that could lift him occasionally above a perfectly normal
+laziness, he made as much of his opportunities as one could expect of a
+young man who has two hundred thousand a year and an amiable
+disposition.</p>
+
+<p>No one in the city was more popular than Simmy Dodge, and no one more
+deservedly so, for his bad qualities were never so bad that one need
+hesitate about calling him a good fellow. His habits were easy but
+genteel. When intoxicated he never smashed things, and when
+sober,&mdash;which was his common condition,&mdash;he took extremely good care of
+other people's reputations. Women liked him, which should not be
+surprising; and men liked him because he was not to be spoiled by the
+women who liked him, which is saying a great deal for an indolent young
+man with money. He had a smile that always appeared at its best in the
+morning, and survived the day with amazing endurance. And that also is
+saying a great deal for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> young man who is favoured by both sexes and a
+<i>supposedly</i> neutral Dame Fortune at the same time. He had broken many
+of the laws of man and some of those imposed by God, but he always paid
+without apology. He was inevitably pardoned by man and paroled by his
+Maker,&mdash;which is as much as to say that he led a pretty decent sort of
+existence and enjoyed exceedingly good health.</p>
+
+<p>He really wasn't much to look at. Being a trifle under medium height,
+weighing less than one hundred and twenty pounds stripped, as wiry as a
+cat and as indefatigable as a Scotch terrier, and with an abnormally
+large pair of ears that stood out like oyster shells from the sides of a
+round, sleek head, he made no pretentions to physical
+splendour,&mdash;unless, by chance, you would call the perky little
+straw-coloured moustache that adorned his long upper lip a tribute to
+vanity. His eyes were blue and merry and set wide apart under a bulging,
+intellectual looking forehead, and his teeth were large and as white as
+snow. When he laughed the world laughed with him, and when he tried to
+appear downcast the laughter went on just the same, for then he was more
+amusing than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know you were a friend of hers," said he as they stood in
+front of the hotel waiting for the taxi that was to take Thorpe to a
+hospital.</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe remembered the admonition. "I tried to put a little back-bone
+into George Tresslyn at the time of the rumpus, if that's what you'd
+call being a friend to her," he said evasively.</p>
+
+<p>"She's a nice little girl," said Simmy, "and she's been darned badly
+treated. Mrs. Tresslyn has never gotten over the fact that Lutie made
+her pay handsomely to get the noble Georgie back into the smart set.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>
+Plucky little beggar, too. Lot of people like the Fenns and the Roush
+girls have taken her up, primarily, I suppose, because the Tresslyns
+threw her down. She's making good with them, too, after a fashion all
+her own. Must be something fine in a girl like that, Brady,&mdash;I mean
+something worth while. Straight as a string, and a long way from being a
+disgrace to the name of Tresslyn. Quaint, isn't she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Amazingly so. I think George would marry her all over again if she'd
+have him, mother or no mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, she's quaint in another respect," said Dodge. "She still
+considers herself to be George Tresslyn's wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Religion?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit of it. She just says she is, that's all, and what God joined
+together no woman can put asunder. She means Mrs. Tresslyn, of course.
+By the way, Brady, I wonder if I'm still enough of a pal to be allowed
+to say something to you." The blue eyes were serious and there was a
+sort of caressing note in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"We've always been pals, Simmy."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's just this: I'm darned sorry things have turned out as they
+have for you. It's a rotten shame. Why don't you choke that old
+grandparent of yours? Put him out of his misery. Anne has told me of
+your diabolical designs upon the hopelessly afflicted. She used to talk
+about it for hours while you were in London,&mdash;and I had to listen with
+shivers running up and down my back all the time. Nobody on earth could
+blame you for putting the quietus on old Templeton Thorpe. He is about
+as hopelessly afflicted as any one I know,&mdash;begging your pardon for
+treading on the family toes."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He's quite sane, Simmy," said Braden, with a smile that was meant to be
+pleasant but fell short of the mark.</p>
+
+<p>"He's an infernal old traitor, then," said Simmy hotly. "I wouldn't
+treat a dog as he has treated you,&mdash;no kind of a dog, mind you. Not even
+a Pekinese, and I hate 'em worse than snakes. What the devil does Anne
+mean? Lordy, Lordy, man, she's always been in love with you. She&mdash;but,
+forgive me, old chap, I oughtn't to run on like this. I didn't mean to
+open a sore&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right, Simmy. I understand. Thanks, old boy. It was a pretty
+stiff blow, but&mdash;well, I'm still on my pins, as you see."</p>
+
+<p>Dodge was hanging onto the door of the taxi, impeding his friend's
+departure. "She's too fine a girl to be doing a rotten thing like this.
+I don't mind telling you I've always been in&mdash;er&mdash;that is, I've always
+had a tender spot for Anne. I suppose you know that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know that, Simmy."</p>
+
+<p>"Hang it all, I never dreamed that she'd look at any one else but you,
+so I never even peeped a word to her about my own feelings. And here she
+goes, throwing you over like a shot, and spilling everything. Confound
+it, man, if I'd thought she could possibly want to marry anybody else
+but you, I'd have had my try. The good Lord knows I'm not much, but by
+thunder, I'm not decrepit. I&mdash;I suppose it was the money, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's for you to say, Simmy; certainly not for me."</p>
+
+<p>"If it's money she's after and not an Adonis, I don't see why the deuce
+she didn't advertise. I would have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> answered in a minute. I can't help
+saying it, old man, but I feel sorry for Anne, 'pon my soul, I do. I
+don't think she's doing this of her own free will. See what her mother
+did to George and that little girl in there? I tell you there's
+something nasty and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I may as well tell you that Anne <i>is</i> doing this thing of her own free
+will," said Braden gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe it," said Dodge.</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate, Simmy, I'm grateful to you for standing clear while there
+was still a chance for me. So long! I must be getting up to the
+hospital, and then around to see her doctor."</p>
+
+<p>"So long, Brady. See you on Thursday." He meant, good soul, that he
+would be at the hospital on that day.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>An hour later, Mr. Simeon Dodge appeared at the home of Anne Tresslyn.
+In place of his usual care-free manner there now rested upon him an air
+of extreme gravity. This late afternoon visit was the result of an
+inspiration. After leaving Thorpe he found himself deeply buried in
+reflection which amounted almost to abstraction. He was disturbed by the
+persistency of the thoughts that nagged at him, no matter whither his
+aimless footsteps carried him. For the life of him, he could not put
+from his mind the conviction that Anne Tresslyn was not responsible for
+her actions.</p>
+
+<p>He was convinced that she had been bullied, cowed, coerced, or whatever
+you like, into this atrocious marriage, and, of course, there could be
+no one to blame but her soulless mother. The girl ought to be saved.
+(These are Simmy's thoughts.) She was being sacrificed to the greed of
+an unnatural mother. Admitting, for the sake of argument, that she was
+no longer in love with Braden Thorpe, there still remained the positive
+conviction that she could not be in love with any one else, and
+certainly not with that treacherous old man in Washington Square. That,
+of course, was utterly impossible, so there was but the one alternative:
+she was being forced into a marriage that would bring the most money
+into the hands of the designing and, to him, clearly unnatural parent.</p>
+
+<p>He knew nothing of the ante-nuptial settlement, nor was he aware of the
+old man's quixotic design in coming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> between Braden and the girl he
+loved. To Simmy it was nothing short of brigandage, a sort of moral
+outlawry. Old Templeton Thorpe deserved a coat of tar and feathers, and
+there was no word for the punishment that ought to be meted out to Mrs.
+Tresslyn. He tried to think of what ought to be done to her, and,
+getting as far as boiling oil, gave up in despair, for even that was too
+much like compassion.</p>
+
+<p>Money! The whole beastly business was money! He thought of his own
+unestimated wealth. Nothing but money,&mdash;horrible, insensate, devastating
+money! He shuddered as he thought of what his money was likely to bring
+to him in the end: a loveless wife; avarice in place of respect; misery
+instead of joy; destruction! How was he ever to know whether a girl was
+marrying him for himself or for the right to lay hands upon the money
+his father had left to him when he died? How can any rich man know what
+he is getting into when he permits a girl to come into his home? To
+burglarise it with the sanction of State and Church, perhaps, and to
+escape with the connivance of both after she's got all she wants. That's
+where the poor man has an advantage over the unprotected rich: he is
+never confronted by a problem like this. He doesn't have to stop and
+wonder why the woman marries him. He knows it's love, or stupidity, or
+morality, but it is never duplicity.</p>
+
+<p>Before he got through with it, Simmy had worked himself into a state of
+desperation. Regarding himself with unprejudiced eyes he saw that he was
+not the sort of man a girl would choose for a husband unless he had
+something besides a happy, loving disposition to offer. She would marry
+him for his money, of course; certainly he would be the last to suspect
+her of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> marrying him for his beauty. He had never thought of it in this
+light before, and he was wet with the sweat of anguish. He could never
+be sure! He could love a woman with all his heart and soul, and still
+never be sure of her! Were all the girls he had loved in his college
+days&mdash;But here he stopped. It was too terrible to even contemplate, this
+unmerited popularity of his! If only one of them had been honest enough
+to make fun of his ears, or to snicker when he became impassioned, or to
+smile contemptuously from her superior height when he asked her to
+dance,&mdash;if only one of them had turned her back upon him, then he would
+have grasped the unwelcome truth about himself. But, now that he thought
+of it, not one of them had ever turned a deaf ear to his cajoleries, not
+one had failed to respond to his blandishments, not one had been sincere
+enough to frown upon him when he tried to be witty. And that brought him
+to another sickening standstill: was he as bright and clever and witty
+as people made him out to be? Wasn't he a dreadful bore, a blithering
+ass, after all? He felt himself turning cold to the marrow as he thought
+of the real value that people placed upon him. He even tried to recall a
+single thing that he had ever said that he could now, in sober judgment,
+regard as bright or even fairly clever. He couldn't, so then, after all,
+it was quite clear that he was tolerated because he had nothing but
+money.</p>
+
+<p>Just as he was about to retire from his club where he had gone for
+solace, an inspiration was born. It sent him forthwith to Anne
+Tresslyn's home, dogged, determined and manfully disillusioned.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Tresslyn is very busy, Mr. Dodge," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> Rawson, "but she says she
+will see you, sir, if you will wait a few moments."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll wait," said Simmy, and sat down.</p>
+
+<p>He had come to the remarkable conclusion that as long as some one had to
+marry him for his money it might as well be Anne. He was fond of her and
+he could at least spare her the ignominy and horror of being wedded to
+old Templeton Thorpe. With his friend Braden admittedly out of the
+running, there was no just cause why he should not at least have a try
+at saving Anne. She might jump at the chance. He was already blaming
+himself for not having recognised her peril, her dire necessity, long
+before this. And since he had reached the dismal conclusion that no one
+could possibly love him, it would be the sensible thing on his part to
+at least marry some one whom he loved, thereby securing, in a way, half
+of a bargain when he might otherwise have to put up with nothing at all.
+At any rate, he would be doing Anne a good turn by marrying her, and it
+was reasonably certain that she would not bring him any more unhappiness
+than any other woman who might accept him.</p>
+
+<p>As he sat there waiting for her he began to classify his financial
+holdings, putting certain railroads and industrials into class one,
+others into class two, and so on to the best of his ability to recollect
+what really comprised his fortune. It was rather a hopeless task, for to
+save his life he could not remember whether he had Lake Shore stock or
+West Shore stock, and he did not know what Standard Oil was selling at,
+nor any of the bank stocks except the Fifth Avenue, which seldom went
+below forty-five hundred. There might be a very awkward situation, too,
+if he couldn't justify<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> his proposal with facts instead of conjectures.
+Suppose that she came out point blank and asked him what he was worth:
+what could he say? But then, of course, she wouldn't have to ask such a
+question. If she considered it possible to marry him, she would <i>know</i>
+how much he was worth without inquiring. As a matter of fact, she
+probably knew to a dollar, and that was a great deal more than he knew.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour passed before she came down. She was wearing her hat and
+was buttoning her gloves as she came hurriedly into the room. Simmy had
+a startling impression that he had seen a great many women putting on
+their gloves as they came into rooms where he was waiting. The
+significance of this extraordinary custom had never struck him with full
+force before. In the gloom of his present appraisal of himself, he now
+realised with shocking distinctness that the women he called upon were
+always on the point of going somewhere else.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Simmy," cried Anne gaily. He had never seen her looking more
+beautiful. There was real colour in her smooth cheeks and the sparkle of
+enthusiasm in her big, dark eyes.</p>
+
+<p>He shook hands with her. "Hello," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I can spare you just twenty minutes, Simmy," she said, peering at the
+little French clock on the mantelpiece with the frankest sort of
+calculation. "Going to the dressmaker's at five, you know. It's a great
+business, this getting married, Simmy. You ought to try it."</p>
+
+<p>"I know I ought," said he, pulling a chair up close to hers. "That's
+what I came to see you about, Anne."</p>
+
+<p>She gave a little shriek of wonder. "For heaven's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> sake, Simmy, don't
+tell me that <i>you</i> are going to be married. I can't believe it."</p>
+
+<p>He made note of the emphasis she put upon the pronoun, and secretly
+resented it.</p>
+
+<p>"Depends entirely on you, Anne," he said. He looked over his shoulder to
+see if any one was within the sound of his voice, which he took the
+precaution to lower to what had always been a successful tone in days
+when he was considered quite an excellent purveyor of sweet nothings in
+dim hallways, shady nooks and unpopulated stairways. "I want you to
+marry me right away," he went on, but not with that amazing confidence
+of yester-years.</p>
+
+<p>Anne blinked. Then she drew back and stared at him for a moment. A merry
+smile followed her brief inspection.</p>
+
+<p>"Simmy, you've been drinking."</p>
+
+<p>He scowled, and at that she laughed aloud. "'Pon my soul, not more than
+three, Anne. I rarely drink in the middle of the day. Almost never, I
+swear to you. Confound it, why should you say I've been drinking? Can't
+I be serious without being accused of drunkenness? What the devil do you
+mean, Anne, by intimating that I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't explode, Simmy," she cried. "I wasn't intimating a thing. I was
+positively asserting it. But go on, please. You interest me. Don't try
+to look injured, Simmy. You can't manage it at all."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't come here to be insulted," he growled.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you come here to insult me?" she inquired, the smile suddenly
+leaving her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord, no!" he gasped. "Only I don't like what you said a minute
+ago. I never was more serious or more sober in my life. You've been
+proposed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> to a hundred times, I suppose, and I'll bet I'm the only one
+you've ever accused of drinking at the time. It's just my luck. I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What in the world are you trying to get at, Simmy Dodge?" she cried.
+"Are you really asking me to marry you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," he said, far from mollified.</p>
+
+<p>She leaned back in the chair and regarded him in silence for a moment.
+"Is it possible that you have not heard that I am to be married this
+month?" she asked, and there was something like pity in her manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Heard it? Of course, I've heard it. Everybody's heard it. That's just
+what I've come to see you about. To talk the whole thing over. To see if
+we can't do something. Now, there is a way out of it, dear girl. It may
+not be the best way in the world but it's infinitely&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you crazy?" she cried, staring at him in alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"See here, Anne," he said gently, "I am your friend. It will not make
+any difference to you if I tell you that I love you, that I've loved you
+for years. It's true nevertheless. I'm glad that I've at last had the
+courage to tell you. Still I suppose it's immaterial. I've come up here
+this afternoon to ask you to be my wife. I don't ask you to <i>say</i> that
+you love me. I don't want to put you in such a position as that. I know
+you don't love me, but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Simmy! Oh, Simmy!" she cried out, a hysterical laugh in her throat that
+died suddenly in a strange, choking way. She was looking at him now with
+wide, comprehending eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't bear to see you married to that old man,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> Anne," he went on.
+"It is too awful for words. You are one of the most perfect of God's
+creations. You shall not be sacrificed on this damned altar of&mdash;I beg
+your pardon, I did not mean to begin by accusing any one of deliberately
+forcing you into&mdash;into&mdash;" He broke off and pulled fiercely at his little
+moustache.</p>
+
+<p>"I see now," she said presently. "You are willing to sacrifice yourself
+in order that I may be spared. Is that it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't precisely a sacrifice. At least, it isn't quite the same sort
+of sacrifice that goes with your case as it now stands. In this
+instance, one of us at least is moved by a feeling of love;&mdash;in the
+other, there is no love at all. If you will take me, Anne, you will get
+a man who adores you for yourself. Isn't there something in that? I can
+give you everything that old man Thorpe can give, with love thrown in. I
+understand the situation. You are not marrying that old man because you
+love him. There's something back of it all that you can't tell me, and I
+shall not ask you to do so. But listen, dear; I'm decent, I'm honest,
+I'm young and I'm rich. I can give you everything that money will buy.
+Good Lord, I wish I could remember just what I've got to offer you in
+the way of&mdash;But, never mind now. If you'd like it, I'll have my
+secretary make out a complete list of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"So you think I am marrying Mr. Thorpe for his money,&mdash;is that it, Simmy
+dear?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I know it," said he promptly. "That is, you are marrying him because
+some one else&mdash;ahem! You can't expect me to believe that you love the
+old codger."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I can't expect that of any one. Thank you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> Simmy. I think I
+understand. You really want to&mdash;to save me. Isn't that so?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do, Anne, God knows I do," he said fervently. "It's the most beastly,
+diabolical&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You have been fair with me, Simmy," she broke in seriously, "so I'll be
+fair with you. I am marrying Mr. Thorpe for his money. I ought to be
+ashamed to confess it openly in this way, but I'm not. Every one knows
+just why I am going into this thing, and every one is putting the blame
+upon my mother. She is not wholly to blame. I am not being driven into
+it. It's in the blood of us. We are that kind. We are a bad lot, Simmy,
+we women of the breed. It goes a long way back, and we're all alike.
+Don't ask me to say anything more, dear old boy. I'm just a rotter, so
+let it go at that."</p>
+
+<p>"You're nothing of the sort," he exclaimed, seizing her hand. "You're
+nothing of the sort!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, I am," she said wearily.</p>
+
+<p>"See here, Anne," he said earnestly, "why not take me? If it's a matter
+of money, and nothing else, why not take me? That's what I mean. That's
+just what I wanted to explain to you. Think it over, Anne. For heaven's
+sake, don't go on with the other thing. Chuck it all and&mdash;take me. I
+won't bother you much. You can have all the money you need&mdash;and more, if
+you ask for it. Hang it all, I'll settle a stipulated amount upon you
+before we take another step. A million, two millions,&mdash;I don't care a
+hang,&mdash;only don't spoil this bright, splendid young life of yours
+by&mdash;Oh, Lordy, it's incomprehensible!"</p>
+
+<p>She patted the back of his hand, gently, even tremblingly. Her eyes were
+very bright and very solemn.</p>
+
+<p>"It has to go on now, Simmy," she said at last.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>For a long time they were silent.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you have got completely over your love for Braden Thorpe," he
+said. "But, of course, you have. You don't care for him any more. You
+couldn't care for him and go on with this. It wouldn't be human, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"No, it wouldn't be human," she said, her face rigid.</p>
+
+<p>He was staring intently at the floor. Something vague yet sure was
+forming in his brain, something that grew to comprehension before he
+spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, Anne," he muttered, "I am beginning to understand. You
+wouldn't marry a <i>young</i> man for his money. It has to be an old man, an
+incredibly old man. I see!"</p>
+
+<p>"I would not marry a young man, Simmy, for anything but love," she said
+simply. "I would not live for years with a man unless I loved him, be he
+poor or rich. Now you have it, my friend. I'm a pretty bad one, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, siree! I'd say it speaks mighty well for you," he cried
+enthusiastically. His whimsical smile returned and the points of his
+little moustache went up once more. "Just think of waiting for a golden
+wedding anniversary with a duffer like me! By Jove, I can see the horror
+of that myself. You just couldn't do it. I get your idea perfectly,
+Anne. Would it interest you if I were to promise to be extremely
+reckless with my life? You see, I'm always taking chances with my
+automobiles. Had three or four bad smash-ups already, and one broken
+arm. I <i>could</i> be a little more reckless and <i>very</i> careless if you
+think it would help. I've never had typhoid or pneumonia. I could go
+about exposing myself to all sorts of things after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> a year or two.
+Flying machines, too, and long distance swimming. I might even try to
+swim the English Channel. North Pole expeditions, African wild game
+hunts,&mdash;all that sort of thing, Anne. I'll promise to do everything in
+my power to make life as short as possible, if you'll only&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Simmy, you are killing," she cried, laughing through her tears. "I
+shall always adore you."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what they all say. Well, I've done my best, Anne. If you'll run
+away with me to-night, or to-morrow, or any time before the
+twenty-third, I'll be the happiest man in the world. You can call me up
+any time,&mdash;at the club or at my apartment. I'll be ready. Think it over.
+Good-bye. I wish I could wish you good luck in this other&mdash;but, of
+course, you couldn't expect that. We're a queer lot, all of us. I've
+always had a sneaking suspicion that if my mother had married the man
+she was truly in love with, I'd be a much better-looking chap than I am
+to-day."</p>
+
+<p>She was standing beside him at the door, nearly a head taller than he.</p>
+
+<p>"Or," she amended with a dainty grimace, "you might be a very beautiful
+girl, and that would be dreadful."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>The day before the wedding, little Mrs. George Dexter Tresslyn,
+satisfactorily shorn of her appendix and on the rapid road to recovery
+that is traveled only by the perfectly healthy of mankind, confided to
+her doctor that the mystery of the daily bunch of roses was solved. They
+represented the interest and attention of her ex-husband, and, while
+they were unaccompanied by a single word from him, they also signified
+devotion.</p>
+
+<p>"Which means that he is still making love to you?" said Thorpe, with
+mock severity.</p>
+
+<p>"Clandestinely," said she, with a lovely blush and a curious softening
+of her eyes. She was wondering how this big, strong friend of hers would
+take the information, and how far she could go in her confidences
+without adventuring upon forbidden territory. Would he close the gates
+in the wall that guarded his own opinions of the common foe, or would he
+let her inside long enough for a joint discussion of the condition that
+confronted both of them: the Tresslyn nakedness? "He has been inquiring
+about me twice a day by telephone, Doctor, and this morning he was down
+stairs. My night nurse knows him by sight. He was here at half-past
+seven. That's very early for George, believe me. This hospital is a long
+way from where he lives. I would say that he got up at six or half-past,
+wouldn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"If he went to bed at all," said Thorpe, with a grim smile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Anyhow, it proves something, doesn't it?" she persisted.</p>
+
+<p>"Obviously. He is still in love with you, if that's what you want me to
+say."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just what I wanted you to say," she cried, her eyes sparkling.
+"Poor George! He's a dear, and I don't care who hears me say it. If he'd
+had any kind of a chance at all we wouldn't be&mdash;Oh, well, what's the use
+talking about it?" She sighed deeply.</p>
+
+<p>Braden watched her flushed, drawn face with frowning eyes. He realised
+that she had suffered long in silence, that her heart had been wrung in
+the bitter stretches of a thousand nights despite the gay indifference
+of the thousand days that lay between them. For nearly three years she
+had kept alive the hungry thing that gnawed at her heart and would not
+be denied. He was sorry for her. She was better than most of the women
+he knew in one respect if in no other: she was steadfast. She had made a
+bargain and it was not her fault that it was not binding. He had but
+little pity for George Tresslyn. The little he had was due to the belief
+that if the boy had been older he would have fought a better fight for
+the girl. As she lay there now, propped up against the pillows, he could
+not help contrasting her with the splendid, high-bred daughter of
+Constance Tresslyn. That she was a high-minded, honest, God-fearing girl
+he could not for an instant doubt, but that she lacked the&mdash;there is but
+one word for it&mdash;<i>class</i> of the Tresslyn women he could not but feel as
+well as see. There was a distinct line between them, a line that it
+would take generations to cross. Still, she was a loyal, warm-hearted
+enduring creature, and by qualities such as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> these she mounted to a much
+higher plane than Anne Tresslyn could ever hope to attain, despite her
+position on the opposite side of the line. He had never seen George's
+wife in anything but a blithe, confident mood; she was an unbeaten
+little warrior who kept her colours flying in the face of a despot
+called Fate. In fact, she was worthy of a better man than young
+Tresslyn, worthy of the steel of a nobler foe than his mother.</p>
+
+<p>He was eager to comfort her. "It is pretty fine of George, sending you
+these flowers every day. I am getting a new light on him. Has he ever
+suggested to you in any way the possibility of&mdash;of&mdash;well, you know what
+I mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fixing it up again between us?" she supplied, an eager light in her
+eyes. "No, never, Dr. Thorpe. He has never spoken to me, never written a
+line to me. That's fine of him too. He loves me, I'm sure of it, and he
+wants me, but it <i>is</i> fine of him not to bother me, now isn't it? He
+knows he could drag me back into the muddle, he knows he could make a
+fool of me, and yet he will not take that advantage of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you go back to him if he asked you to do so?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so," she sighed. Then brightly: "So, you see, I shall refuse
+to see him if he ever comes to plead. That's the only way. We must go
+our separate ways, as decreed. I am his wife but I must not so far
+forget myself as to think that he is my husband. I know, Dr. Thorpe,
+that if we had been left alone, we could have managed somehow. He was
+young, but so was I. I am not quite impossible, am I? Don't these
+friends of yours like me, don't they find something worth while in me?
+If I were as common,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> as undesirable as Mrs. Tresslyn would have me to
+be, why do people of your kind like me,&mdash;take me up, as the saying is? I
+know that I don't really belong, I know I'm not just what they are, but
+I'm not so awfully hopeless, now am I? Isn't Mrs. Fenn a nice woman?
+Doesn't she go about in the smart set?"</p>
+
+<p>She appeared to be pleading with him. He smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Fenn is a very nice woman and a very smart one," he said. "You
+have many exceedingly nice women among your friends. So be of good
+cheer, if that signifies anything to you." He was chaffing her in his
+most amiable way.</p>
+
+<p>"It signifies a lot," she said seriously. "By rights, I suppose, I
+should have gone to the devil. That's what was expected of me, you know.
+When I took all that money from Mrs. Tresslyn, it wasn't for the purpose
+of beating my way to the devil as fast as I could. I took it for an
+entirely different reason: to put myself where I could tell other people
+to go to him if I felt so inclined. I took it so that I could make of
+myself, if possible, the sort of woman that George Tresslyn might have
+married without stirring up a row in the family. I've taken good care of
+all that money. It is well invested. I manage to live and dress on the
+income. Rather decent of me, isn't it? Surprisingly decent, you might
+say, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Surprisingly," he agreed, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"What George Tresslyn needs, Dr. Thorpe, is something to work for,
+something to make work an object to him. What has he got to work for
+now? Nothing, absolutely nothing. He's merely keeping up appearances,
+and he'll never get anywhere in God's world until he finds out that it's
+a waste of time working for a living that's already provided for him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Thorpe was impressed by this quaint philosophy. "Would you, in your
+wisdom, mind telling me just what you think George would be capable of
+doing in order to earn a living for two people instead of one?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him in surprise. "Why, isn't he big and strong and hasn't
+he a brain and a pair of hands? What more can a man require in this
+little old age? A big, strapping fellow doesn't have to sit down and say
+'What in heaven's name am I to do with these things that God has given
+me?' Doesn't a blacksmith earn enough for ten sometimes, and how about
+the carpenter, the joiner and the man who brings the ice? Didn't I earn
+a living up to the time I burnt my fingers and had to be pensioned for
+dishonourable service? It didn't take much strength or intelligence to
+demonstrate mustard, did it? And you sit there and ask me what George is
+capable of doing! Why, he could do <i>anything</i> if he had to."</p>
+
+<p>"You are really a very wonderful person," said he, with conviction. "I
+believe you could have made a man of George if you'd had the chance."</p>
+
+<p>She looked down. "I suppose the world thinks I made him what he is now,
+so what's the use speculating? Let's talk about you for awhile. Miss
+McKane won't be back for a few minutes, so let's chat some more. Didn't
+I hear you tell her yesterday that you expect to leave for London about
+the first?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you are up and about," said he.</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated, a slight frown on her brow. "Do you know that you are
+pale and tired-looking, Dr. Thorpe? Have you looked in the glass at
+yourself lately?"</p>
+
+<p>"Regularly," he said, forcing a smile. "I shave once a day, and I&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm serious. You don't look happy. You may confide in me, Doctor. I
+think you ought to talk to some one about it. Are you still in love with
+Miss Tresslyn? Is that what's taking the colour out&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not in love with Miss Tresslyn," he said, meeting her gaze
+steadily. "That is all over. I will confess that I have been dreadfully
+hurt, terribly shocked. A man doesn't get over such things easily or
+quickly. I will not pretend that I am happy. So, if that explains my
+appearance to you, Mrs. Tresslyn, we'll say no more about it."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, I'm sorry if I've&mdash;if I've meddled,&mdash;if
+I've been too&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't worry," he broke in quickly. "I don't in the least mind. In fact,
+I'm glad you gave me the opportunity to say in so many words that I do
+not love her. I've never said it before. I'm glad that I have said it.
+It helps, after all."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be happy yet," she sniffled. "I know you will. The world is full
+of good, noble women, and there's one somewhere who will make you glad
+that this thing has happened to you. Now, we'll change the subject. Miss
+McKane may pop in at any moment, you know. Have you any new patients?"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled again. "No. You are my sole and only, Mrs. Fenn can't persuade
+Rumsey to have a thing done to him, and Simmy Dodge refuses to break his
+neck for scientific purposes, so I've given up hope. I shall take no
+more cases. In a year I may come back from London and then I'll go
+snooping about for nice little persons like you who&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Simmy Dodge says you are not living at your grandfather's house any
+longer," she broke, irrelevantly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I am at a hotel," he said, and no more.</p>
+
+<p>"I see," she said, frowning very darkly for her.</p>
+
+<p>He studied her face for a moment, and then arose from the chair beside
+her bed. "You may be interested to hear that while I am invited to
+attend the wedding to-morrow afternoon I shall not be there," he said,
+divining her thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't like to ask," she said. The nurse came into the room. "He says
+I'm doing as well as could be expected, Miss McKane," she said glibly,
+"and if nothing unforeseen happens I'll be dodging automobiles in Fifth
+Avenue inside of two weeks. Good-bye, Doctor."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye. I'll look in to-morrow&mdash;afternoon," he said.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The marriage of Anne Tresslyn and Templeton Thorpe took place at the
+home of the bridegroom at four o'clock on the afternoon of the
+twenty-third. A departure from the original plans was made imperative at
+the eleventh hour by the fact that Mr. Thorpe had been quite ill during
+the night. His condition was in no sense alarming, but the doctors
+announced that a postponement of the wedding was unavoidable unless the
+ceremony could be held in the Thorpe home instead of at Mrs. Tresslyn's
+as originally planned. Moreover, the already heavily curtailed list of
+guests would have to be narrowed to even smaller proportions. The
+presence of so many as the score of selected guests might prove to be
+hazardous in view of the old gentleman's state of nerves, not to say
+health. Mr. Thorpe was able to be up and about with the aid of the
+imperturbable Wade, but he was exceedingly irascible and hard to manage.
+He was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> annoyed with Braden. When the strange illness came early in the
+night, he sent out for his grandson. He wanted him to be there if
+anything serious was to result from the stroke,&mdash;he persisted in calling
+it a stroke, scornfully describing his attack as a "rush of blood to the
+head from a heart that had been squeezed too severely by old Father
+Time." Braden was not to be found. What annoyed Mr. Thorpe most was the
+young man's unaccountable disposition to desert him in his hour of need.
+In his querulous tirade, he described his grandson over and over again
+as an ingrate, a traitor, a good-for-nothing without the slightest
+notion of what an obligation means.</p>
+
+<p>He did not know, and was not to know for many days, that his grandson
+had purposely left town with the determination not to return until the
+ill-mated couple were well on their way to the Southland, where the
+ludicrous honeymoon was to be spent. And so it was that the old family
+doctor had to be called in to take charge of Mr. Thorpe in place of the
+youngster on whom he had spent so much money and of whom he expected
+such great and glorious things.</p>
+
+<p>He would not listen to a word concerning a postponement. Miss Tresslyn
+was called up on the telephone by Wade at eight o'clock in the morning,
+and notified of the distressing situation. What was to be done? At first
+no one seemed to know what <i>could</i> be done, and there was a tremendous
+flurry that for the time being threatened to deprive Mr. Thorpe of a
+mother-in-law before the time set for her to actually become one.
+Doctors were summoned to revive the prostrated Mrs. Tresslyn. She went
+all to pieces, according to reports from the servants' hall. In an
+hour's time, however, she was herself once more, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> then it was
+discovered that a postponement was the last thing in the world to be
+considered in a crisis of such magnitude. Hasty notes were despatched
+hither and thither; caterers and guests alike were shunted off with
+scant ceremony; chauffeurs were commandeered and motors confiscated;
+everybody was rushing about in systematic confusion, and no one paused
+to question the commands of the distracted lady who rose sublimely to
+the situation. So promptly and effectually was order substituted for
+chaos that when the clock in Mr. Thorpe's drawing-room struck the hour
+of four, exactly ten people were there and two of them were facing a
+minister of the gospel,&mdash;one in an arm chair with pillows surrounding
+him, the other standing tall and slim and as white as the driven snow
+beside him....</p>
+
+<p>Late that night, Mr. George Tresslyn came upon Simmy Dodge in the buffet
+at the Plaza.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you missed it," he said thickly. His high hat was set far back on
+his head and his face was flushed.</p>
+
+<p>"Come over here in the corner," said Simmy, with discernment, "and for
+heaven's sake don't talk above a whisper."</p>
+
+<p>"Whisper?" said George, annoyed. "What do I want to whisper for? I don't
+want to whisper, Simmy. I never whisper. I hate to hear people whisper.
+I refuse to whisper to anybody."</p>
+
+<p>Simmy took him by the arm and led him to a table in a corner remote from
+others that were occupied.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe you'd rather go for a drive in the Park," he said engagingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! I've been driven all day, Simmy. I don't want to be driven
+any more. I'm tired, that's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> what's the matter with me. Dog-tired,
+understand? Have a drink? Here, boy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, George, I don't care for a drink. No, not for me, thank you.
+Strictly on the wagon, you know. Better let it alone yourself. Take my
+advice, George. You're not a drinking man and you can't stand it."</p>
+
+<p>George glowered at him for a moment, and then let his eyes fall. "Guess
+you're right, Simmy. I've had enough. Never mind, waiter. First time
+I've been like this in a mighty long time, Simmy. But don't think I'm
+celebrating, because I ain't. I'm drowning something, that's all." He
+was almost in tears by this time. "I can't help thinking about her
+standin' there beside that old&mdash;Oh, Lord! I can't talk about it."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," said Simmy, persuasively. "I wouldn't if I were you.
+Come along with me. I'll walk home with you, George. A good night's rest
+will put&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Rest? My God, Simmy, I'm never going to rest again, not even in my
+grave. Say, do you know who I blame for all this business? Do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sh!"</p>
+
+<p>"I won't shoosh! I blame myself. I am to blame and no one else. If I'd
+been any kind of a man I'd have put my foot down&mdash;just like that&mdash;and
+stopped the thing. That's what I'd have done if I'd been a man, Simmy.
+And instead of stoppin' it, do you know what I did? I went down there
+and stood up with old Thorpe as his best man. Can you beat that? His
+best man! My God! Wait a minute. See, he was sittin' just like you
+are&mdash;lean back a little and drop your chin&mdash;and I was standing right<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>
+here, see&mdash;on this side of him. Just like this. And over here was
+Anne&mdash;oh, Lord! And here was Katherine Browne,&mdash;best maid, you know,&mdash;I
+mean maid of honour. Standin' just like this, d'you see? And then right
+in front here was the preacher. Say, where do all these preachers come
+from? I've never seen that feller in all my life, and still they say
+he's an old friend of the family. Fine business for a preacher to be in,
+wasn't it? Fi-ine bus-i-ness! He ought to have been ashamed of himself.
+By Gosh, come to think of it, I believe he was worse than I. He might
+have got out of it if he'd tried. He looked like a regular man, and I'm
+nothing but a fish-worm."</p>
+
+<p>"Not so loud, George, for heaven's sake. You don't want all these men in
+here to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Right you are, Simmy, right you are. I'm one of the fellers that talks
+louder than anybody else and thinks he's as big as George Washington
+because he's got a bass voice." He lowered his voice to a hoarse,
+raucous whisper and went on. "And mother stood over there, see,&mdash;right
+about where that cuspidor is,&mdash;and looked at the preacher all the time.
+Watchin' to see that he kept his face straight, I suppose. Couple of old
+rummies standin' back there where that table is, all dressed up in
+Prince Alberts and shaved within an inch of their lives. Lawyers, I
+heard afterwards. Old Mrs. Browne and Doc. Bates stood just behind me.
+Now you have it, just as it was. Curtains all down and electric lights
+going full blast. It wouldn't have been so bad if the lights had been
+out. Couldn't have seen old Tempy, for one thing, and Anne's face for
+another. I'll never forget Anne's face." His own face was now as white
+as chalk and convulsed with genuine emotion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Simmy was troubled. There was that about George Tresslyn that suggested
+a subsequent catastrophe. He was in no mood to be left to himself. There
+was the despairing look of the man who kills in his eyes, but who kills
+only himself.</p>
+
+<p>"See here, George, let's drop it now. Don't go on like this. Come along,
+do. Come to my rooms and I'll make you comfortable for the&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But George was not through with his account of the wedding. He
+straightened up and, gritting his teeth, went on with the story. "Then
+there were the responses, Simmy,&mdash;the same that we had, Lutie and
+I,&mdash;just the same, only they sounded queer and awful and strange to-day.
+Only young people ought to get married, Simmy. It doesn't seem so rotten
+when young people lie like that to each other. Before I really knew what
+had happened the preacher had pronounced them husband and wife, and
+there I stood like a block of marble and held my peace when he asked if
+any one knew of a just cause why they shouldn't be joined in holy
+wedlock. I never even opened my lips. Then everybody rushed up and
+congratulated Anne! And kissed her, and made all sorts of horrible
+noises over her. And then what do you think happened? Old Tempy up and
+practically ordered everybody out of the house. Said he was tired and
+wanted to be left alone. 'Good-bye,' he said, just like that, right in
+our faces&mdash;right in mother's face, and the preacher's, and old Mrs.
+Browne's. You could have heard a pin drop. 'Good-bye,' that's what he
+said, and then, will you believe it, he turned to one of the pie-faced
+lawyers and said to him: 'Will you turn over that package to my wife,
+Mr. Hollenback?' and then he says to that man of his: 'Wade, be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> good
+enough to hand Mr. Tresslyn the little acknowledgment for his services?'
+Then and there, that lawyer gave Anne a thick envelope and Wade gave me
+a little box,&mdash;a little bit of a box that I wish I'd kept to bury the
+old skinflint in. It would be just about his size. I had it in my vest
+pocket for awhile. 'Wade, your arm,' says he, and then with what he
+probably intended to be a sweet smile for Anne, he got to his feet and
+went out of the room, holding his side and bending over just as if he
+was having a devil of time to keep from laughing out loud. I heard the
+doctor say something about a pain there, but I didn't pay much
+attention. What do you think of that? Got right up and left his guests,
+his bride and everybody standing there like a lot of goops. His bride,
+mind you. I'm dead sure that so-called stroke of his was all a bluff. He
+just put one over on us, that's all. Wasn't any more sick than I am.
+Didn't you hear about the stroke? Stroke of luck, I'd call it. And say,
+what do you think he gave me as a little acknowledgment for my services?
+Look! Feast your eyes upon it!" He turned back the lapel of his coat and
+fumbled for a moment before extracting from the cloth a very ordinary
+looking scarf-pin, a small aqua-marine surrounded by a narrow rim of
+pearls. "Great, isn't it? Magnificent tribute! You could get a dozen of
+'em for fifty dollars. That's what I got for being best man at my
+sister's funeral, and, by God, it's more than I deserved at that. He had
+me sized up properly, I'll say that for him."</p>
+
+<p>He bowed his head dejectedly, his lips working in a sort of spasmodic
+silence. Dodge eyed him with a curious, new-born commiseration. The
+boy's self-abasement, his misery, his flouting of his own weakness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> were
+not altogether the result of maudlin reaction. He presented a
+combination of manliness and effectiveness that perplexed and irritated
+Simeon Dodge. He did not want to feel sorry for him and yet he could not
+help doing so. George's broad shoulders and splendid chest were heaving
+under the strain of a genuine, real emotion. Drink was not responsible
+for his present estimate of himself; it had merely opened the gates to
+expression.</p>
+
+<p>Simmy's scrutiny took in the fine, powerful body of this incompetent
+giant,&mdash;for he was a giant to Simmy,&mdash;and out of his appraisal grew a
+fresh complaint against the Force that fashions men with such cruel
+inconsistency. What would not he perform if he were fashioned like this
+splendid being? Why had God given to George Tresslyn all this strength
+and beauty, to waste and abuse, when He might have divided His gifts
+with a kindlier hand? To what heights of attainment in all the
+enterprises of man would not he have mounted if Nature had but given to
+him the shell that George Tresslyn occupied? And why should Nature have
+put an incompetent, useless dweller into such a splendid house when he
+would have got on just as well or better perhaps in an insignificant
+body like his own? Proportions were wrong, outrageously wrong, grieved
+Simmy as he studied the man who despised the strength God had given him.
+And down in his honest, despairing soul, Simmy Dodge was saying to
+himself that he would cheerfully give all of his wealth, all of his
+intelligence, all of his prospects, in exchange for a physical body like
+George Tresslyn's. He would court poverty for the privilege of enjoying
+other triumphs along the road to happiness.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you say something?" demanded George,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> suddenly looking up.
+"Call me whatever you please, Simmy; I'll not resent it. Hang it all,
+I'll let you kick me if you want to. Wouldn't you like to, Simmy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lord love you, no, my boy," cried the other, reaching out and laying a
+hand on George's shoulder. "See here, George, there's a great deal more
+to you than you suspect. You've got everything that a man ought to have
+except one thing, and you can get that if you make up your mind to go
+after it."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" said George, vaguely interested.</p>
+
+<p>"Independence," said Simmy. "Do you know what I'd do if I had that body
+and brain of yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said George promptly. "You'd go out and lick the world, Simmy,
+because you're that kind of a feller. You've got character, you have.
+You've got self-respect, and ideals, and nerve. I ought to have been put
+into your body and you into mine."</p>
+
+<p>Simmy winced. "Strike out for yourself, George. Be somebody. Buck up,
+and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>George sagged back into the chair as he gloomily interrupted the
+speaker. "That's all very fine, Simmy, that sort of talk, but I'm not in
+the mood to listen to it now. I wasn't through telling you about the
+wedding. Where was I when I stopped? Oh, yes, the scarf-pin. Hey,
+waiter! Come here a second."</p>
+
+<p>A waiter approached. With great solemnity George arose and grasped him
+by the shoulder, and a moment later had removed the nickel-plated badge
+from the man's lapel. The waiter was tolerant. He grinned. It was what
+he was expected to do under the circumstances. But he was astonished by
+the next act of the tall young man in evening clothes. George proceeded
+to jam the scarf-pin into the fellow's coat where the badge of service
+had rested the instant before.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> Then, with Simmy looking on in disgust,
+he pinned the waiter's badge upon his own coat. "There!" he said, with a
+sneer. "That is supposed to make a gentleman of you, and this makes a
+man of me. On your way, gentleman! I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"For heaven's sake, George," cried Simmy, arising. "Don't be an ass." He
+took the tag from Tresslyn's coat and handed it back to the waiter.
+"Give him the scarf-pin if you like, old man, but don't rob him of his
+badge of honour. He earns an honest living with that thing, you know."</p>
+
+<p>George sat down. He was suddenly abashed. "What an awful bounder you
+must think I am, Simmy."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense. You're a bit tight, that's all." He slipped the waiter a
+bank-note and motioned him away. "Now, let's go home, George."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir; he turned and walked out of the room, leaving all of us
+standing there," muttered George, with a mental leap backward. "I'll
+never forget it, long as I live. He simply scorned the whole lot of us.
+I went away as quickly as I could, but the others beat me to it. I left
+mother and Anne there all alone, just wandering around the room as if
+they were half-stunned. Never, never will I forget Anne's white, scared
+face, and I've never seen mother so helpless, either. Anne gripped, that
+big envelope so tight that it crumpled up into almost nothing. Mother
+took it away from her and opened it. Nobody was there but us three. I
+shan't tell you what was in the envelope. I'm not drunk enough for
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind. It's immaterial, in any event." Simmy had called for his
+check.</p>
+
+<p>George's mind took a new twist. Suddenly he sprang<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> to his feet. "By the
+way, before I forget it, do you know where I can find Braden Thorpe?"</p>
+
+<p>A black scowl disfigured his face. There was an ugly, ominous glare in
+his fast clearing eyes. Simmy, coming no higher than his shoulder,
+linked his arm through one of George's and started toward the door with
+him. He was headed for the porters' entrance.</p>
+
+<p>"He's out of town, George. Don't bother about Braden."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to kill Brady Thorpe, Simmy," said George hoarsely. Simmy
+felt the big right arm swell and become as rigid as steel.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't talk like a fool," he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't act right by Anne," said George. "He's got to account to me.
+He's&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>They were in the narrow hallway by this time. Simmy called to a porter.</p>
+
+<p>"Get me a taxi, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I say he didn't act right by Anne. It's his fault that she&mdash;Let go my
+arm, Simmy!" He gave it a mighty wrench.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Simmy, maintaining his equilibrium with some
+difficulty after the jerk he had received. "Don't you want me to be your
+friend, George?"</p>
+
+<p>George glared at him, and then broke into a shamed, foolish laugh.
+"Forgive me, Simmy. Of course, I want you as my friend. I depend upon
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then stop this talk about going after Braden. In heaven's name, you
+kid, what has he done to you or Anne? He's the one who deserves sympathy
+and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I've got it in for him because he's a coward and a skunk," explained
+George, lowering his voice with praiseworthy consideration. "You see,
+it's just this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> way, Simmy. He didn't do the right thing by Anne. He
+ought to have come back here and <i>made</i> her marry him. That's where he's
+to blame. He ought to have gone right up to the house and grabbed her by
+the throat and choked her till she gave in and went with him to a
+justice-of-the-peace or something. He owed it to her, Simmy,&mdash;he was in
+duty bound to save her. If he hadn't been a sneakin' coward, he'd have
+choked her till she was half-dead and then she would have gone with him
+gladly. Women like a brave man. They like to be choked and beaten and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Simmy laughed. "Do you call it bravery to choke a woman into submission,
+and drag her off to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I call it cowardice to give up the woman you love if she loves you,"
+said George. "I know what I'm talking about, too, because I'm one of the
+sneakingest cowards on earth. What do you think of me, Simmy? What does
+everybody think of me? Wouldn't call me a brave man, would you?"</p>
+
+<p>"The cases are not parallel. Braden's case is different. He couldn't
+force Anne to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"See here, Simmy," broke in George, wonderingly, "I hadn't noticed it
+before, but, by giminy, I believe you're tipsy. You've been drinking,
+Simmy. No sober man would talk as you do. When you sober up, you'll
+think just as I do,&mdash;and that is that Brady Thorpe ought to have been a
+man when he had the chance. He ought to have stuck his fist under Anne's
+nose and said 'Come on, or I'll smash you,' and she'd have gone with him
+like a little lamb, and she'd have loved him a hundred times more than
+she ever loved him before. He didn't do the right thing by her, Simmy.
+He didn't, curse him, and I'll never forgive him. I'm going to wring his
+neck, so help me Moses.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> I've been a coward just as long as I intend to
+be. Take a good look at me, Simmy. If you watch closely you may see me
+turning into a man."</p>
+
+<p>"Get in," said Simmy, pushing him toward the door of the taxi-cab. "A
+little sleep is what you need."</p>
+
+<p>"And say, there's another thing I've got to square up with Brady
+Thorpe," protested George, holding back. "He took Lutie up there to that
+beastly hospital and slashed her open, curse him. A poor, helpless
+little girl like that! Call that brave? Sticking a knife into Lutie?
+He's got to settle with me for that, too."</p>
+
+<p>And then Simmy understood.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Much may happen in a year's time. The history of the few people involved
+in the making of this narrative presents but few new aspects, and yet
+there is now to be disclosed an unerring indication of great and perhaps
+enduring changes in the lives of every one concerned.</p>
+
+<p>To begin with, Templeton Thorpe, at the age of seventy-eight, is lying
+at the edge of his grave. On the day of his marriage with Anne Tresslyn,
+he put down his arms in the long and hopeless conflict with an enemy
+that knows no pity, a foe so supremely confident that man has been
+powerless to do more than devise a means to temporarily check its
+relentless fury. The thing in Mr. Thorpe's side was demanding the tolls
+of victory. There was no curbing its wrath: neither the soft nor the
+harsh answer of science had served to turn it away. The hand with the
+gleaming, keen-edged knife had been offered against it again and again,
+but the stroke had never fallen, for always there stood between it and
+the surgeon who would slay the ravager, the resolute fear of Templeton
+Thorpe. Time there was when the keen-edged knife might have vanquished
+or at least deprived it of its early venom, but the body of a physical
+coward housed it and denied admittance to all-comers. Templeton Thorpe
+did not fear death. He wanted to die, he implored his Maker to become
+his Destroyer. The torture of a slow, inevitable death, however, was as
+nothing to the horror of the knife that is sharp and cold.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When he went upstairs with Wade on that memorable twenty-third of March,
+he said to his enemy: "Be quick, that's all I ask of you," and then
+prepared to wait as patiently as he could for the friendly end.</p>
+
+<p>From that day on, he was to the eyes of the world what he had long been
+to himself in secret: a sick man without hope. Weeks passed before his
+bride recognised the revolting truth, and when she came to know that he
+was doomed her pity was <i>so</i> vast that she sickened under its weight.
+She had come prepared to see him die, as all men do when they have lived
+out their time, but she had not counted on seeing him die like this,
+with suffering in his bleak old eyes and a smile of derision on his
+pallid lips.</p>
+
+<p>Old Templeton Thorpe's sufferings were for himself, and he guarded them
+jealously with all the fortitude he could command. His irascibility
+increased with his determination to fight it out alone. He disdained
+every move on her part to extend sympathy and help to him. To her
+credit, be it said, she would have become his nurse and consoler if he
+had let down the bars,&mdash;not willingly, of course, but because there was
+in Anne Thorpe, after all, the heart of a woman, and of such it must be
+said there is rarely an instance where its warmth has failed to respond
+to the call of human suffering. She would have tried to help him, she
+would have tried to do her part. But he was grim, he was resolute. She
+could not bridge the gulf that lay between them. His profound tolerance
+did not deceive her; it was scorn of the most poignant character.</p>
+
+<p>Braden was in Europe. He was expected in New York by the middle of
+March. His grandfather would not consent to his being sent for, although
+it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> was plain to be seen that he lived only for the young man's return.</p>
+
+<p>Anne had once suggested, timorously, that Braden's place was at the
+sufferer's bedside, but the smile that the old man bestowed upon her was
+so significant, so full of understanding, that she shrank within herself
+and said no more. She knew, however, that he longed for the sustaining
+hand of his only blood relation, that he looked upon himself as utterly
+alone in these last few weeks of life; and yet he would not send out the
+appeal that lay uppermost in his thoughts. In his own good time Braden
+would come back and there would be perhaps' one long, farewell grip of
+the hand.</p>
+
+<p>After that, ironic peace.</p>
+
+<p>He could not be cured himself, but he wanted to be sure that Braden was
+cured before he passed away. He knew that his grandson would not come
+home until the last vestige of love and respect for Anne Tresslyn was
+gone; not until he was sure that his wound had healed beyond all danger
+of bleeding again. Mr. Thorpe was satisfied that he had served his
+grandson well. He was confident that the young man would thank him on
+his death-bed for turning the hand of fate in the right direction, so
+that it pointed to contentment and safety. Therefore, he felt himself
+justified in forbidding any one to acquaint Braden of the desperate
+condition into which he had fallen. He insisted that no word be sent to
+him, and, as in all things, the singular power of old Templeton Thorpe
+prevailed over the forces that were opposed. Letters came to him
+infrequently from the young man,&mdash;considerate, formal letters in which
+he never failed to find the touch of repressed gratitude that inspired
+the distant writer. Soon he would be coming home to "set<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> up for
+himself." Soon he would be fighting the battle of life on the field that
+no man knew and yet was traversed by all.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Bates and the eminent surgeons who came to see the important
+invalid, discussed among themselves, but never in the presence of Mr.
+Thorpe, the remarkable and revolutionary articles that had been
+appearing of late in one of the medical journals over the signature of
+Braden Thorpe. There were two articles, one in answer to a savage,
+denunciatory communication that had been drawn out by the initial
+contribution from the pen of young Thorpe.</p>
+
+<p>In his first article, Braden had deliberately taken a stand in favour of
+the merciful destruction of human life in cases where suffering is
+unendurable and the last chance for recovery or even relief is lost. He
+had the courage, the foolhardiness to sign his name to the article,
+thereby irrevocably committing himself to the propaganda. A storm of
+sarcasm ensued. The great surgeons of the land ignored the article,
+amiably attributing it to a "young fool who would come to his senses one
+day." Young and striving men in the profession rushed into print,&mdash;or at
+least tried to do so,&mdash;with the result that Braden was excoriated by a
+thousand pens. Only one of these efforts was worthy of notice, and it
+inspired a calm, dispassionate rejoinder from young Thorpe, who merely
+called attention to the fact that he was not trying to "make murderers
+out of God's commissioners," but was on the other hand advocating a plan
+by which they might one day,&mdash;a far-off day, no doubt,&mdash;extend by Man's
+law, the same mercy to the human being that is given to the injured
+beast.</p>
+
+<p>Anne was shocked one day by a callous observation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> on the lips of old
+Dr. Bates, a sound practitioner and ordinarily as gentle as the average
+family doctor one hears so much about. Mr. Thorpe was in greater pain
+than usual that day. Opiates were of little use in these cruel hours. It
+was now impossible to give him an amount sufficient to produce relief
+without endangering the life that hung by so thin a thread.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose this excellent grandson of his would say that Mr. Thorpe
+ought to be killed forthwith, and put out of his misery," said the
+doctor, discussing his patient's condition with the young wife in the
+library after a long visit upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>Anne started violently. "What do you mean by that, Dr. Bates?" she
+inquired, after a moment in which she managed to subdue her agitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I shouldn't have said it," apologised the old physician, really
+distressed. "I did it quite thoughtlessly, my dear Mrs. Thorpe. I forgot
+that you do not read the medical journals."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know what Braden has always preached," she said hurriedly. "But
+it never&mdash;it never occurred to me that&mdash;" She did not complete the
+sentence. A ghastly pallor had settled over her face.</p>
+
+<p>"That his theory might find application to the case upstairs?" supplied
+the doctor. "Of course it would be unthinkable. Very stupid of me to
+have spoken of it."</p>
+
+<p>Anne leaned forward in her chair. "Then you regard Mr. Thorpe's case as
+one that might be included in Braden's&mdash;" Again she failed to complete a
+sentence.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mrs. Thorpe," said Dr. Bates gravely. "If young Braden's pet
+theory were in practice now, your husband would be entitled to the mercy
+he prescribes."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He has no chance?"</p>
+
+<p>"Absolutely no chance."</p>
+
+<p>"All there is left for him is to just go on suffering until&mdash;until life
+wears out?"</p>
+
+<p>"We are doing everything in our power to alleviate the
+suffering,&mdash;everything that is known to science," he vouchsafed. "We can
+do no more."</p>
+
+<p>"How long will he live, Dr. Bates?" she asked, and instantly shrank from
+the fear that he would misinterpret her interest.</p>
+
+<p>"No man can answer that question, Mrs. Thorpe. He may live a week, he
+may live six months. I give him no more than two."</p>
+
+<p>"And if he were to consent to the operation that you once advised, what
+then?"</p>
+
+<p>"That was a year ago. I would not advise an operation now. It is too
+late. In fact, I would be opposed to it. There are men in my profession
+who would take the chance, I've no doubt,&mdash;men who would risk all on the
+millionth part of a chance."</p>
+
+<p>"You think he would die on the operating table?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps,&mdash;and perhaps not. That isn't the point. It would be useless,
+that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why isn't Braden's theory sound and humane?" she demanded sharply.</p>
+
+<p>He frowned. "It is humane, Mrs. Thorpe," said he gravely, "but it isn't
+sound. I grant you that there is not one of us who would not rejoice in
+the death of a man in Mr. Thorpe's condition, but there is not one who
+would deliberately take his life."</p>
+
+<p>"It is all so cruel, so horribly cruel," she said. "The savages in the
+heart of the jungle can give us lessons in humanity."</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay," said he. "By the same reasoning, is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> it wise for us to
+receive lessons in savagery from them?"</p>
+
+<p>Anne was silent for a time. She felt called upon to utter a defence for
+Braden but hesitated because she could not choose her words. At last she
+spoke. "I have known Braden Thorpe all my life, Dr. Bates. He is sincere
+on this question. I think you might grant him that distinction."</p>
+
+<p>"Lord love you, madam, I haven't the faintest doubt as to his
+sincerity," cried the old doctor. "He is voicing the sentiment of every
+honest man in my profession, but he overlooks the fact that sentiment
+has a very small place among the people we serve,&mdash;in other words, the
+people who love life and employ us to preserve it for them, even against
+the will of God."</p>
+
+<p>"They say that soldiers on the field of battle sometimes mercifully put
+an end to the lives of their mutilated comrades," she mused aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"And they make it their business to put an end to the lives of the
+perfectly sound and healthy men who confront them on that same field of
+battle," he was quick to return. "There is a wide distinction between a
+weapon and an instrument, Mrs. Thorpe, and there is just as much
+difference between the inspired soldier and the uninspired doctor, or
+between impulse and decision."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe that Mr. Thorpe would welcome death," said she.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Bates shook his head. "My dear, if that were true he could obtain
+relief from his suffering to-day,&mdash;this very hour."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" she cried, with a swift shudder, as one suddenly
+assailed by foreboding.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a very sharp razor blade on his dressing-table,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> said Dr.
+Bates with curious deliberation. "Besides that, there is sufficient
+poison in four of those little&mdash;But there, I must say no more. You are
+alarmed,&mdash;and needlessly. He will not take his own life, you may be sure
+of that. By reaching out his hand he can grasp death, and he knows it. A
+month ago I said this to him: 'Mr. Thorpe, I must ask you to be very
+careful. If you do not sleep well to-night, take one of these tablets.
+If one does not give you relief, you may take another, but no more. Four
+of them would mean certain, almost instant death.' For more than a month
+that little box of tablets has lain at his elbow, so to speak. Death has
+been within reach all this time. Those tablets are still there, Mrs.
+Thorpe, so now you understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, staring at him as if fascinated; "they are still there.
+I understand."</p>
+
+<p>The thick envelope that Mr. Hollenback handed to Anne on the day of her
+wedding contained a properly executed assignment of securities amounting
+to two million dollars, together with an order to the executors under
+his will to pay in gold to her immediately after his death an amount
+sufficient to cover any shrinkage that may have occurred in the value of
+the bonds by reason of market fluctuations. In plain words, she was to
+have her full two millions. There was also an instrument authorising a
+certain Trust Company to act as depository for these securities, all of
+which were carefully enumerated and classified, with instructions to
+collect and pay to her during his lifetime the interest on said bonds.
+At his death the securities were to be delivered to her without recourse
+to the courts, and were to be free of the death tax, which was to be
+paid from the residue of the estate. There was a provision,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> however,
+that she was to pay the state, city and county taxes on the full
+assessed value of these bonds during his lifetime, and doubtless by
+premeditation on his part all of them were subject to taxation. This
+unsuspected "joker" in the arrangements was frequently alluded to by
+Anne's mother as a "direct slap in the face," for, said she, it was
+evidently intended as a reflection upon the Tresslyns who, as a family,
+it appears, were very skilful in avoiding the payment of taxes of any
+description. (It was a notorious fact that the richest of the Tresslyns
+was little more than a mendicant when the time came to take his solemn
+oath concerning taxable possessions.)</p>
+
+<p>Anne took a most amazing stand in respect to the interest on these
+bonds. Her income from them amounted to something over ninety thousand
+dollars a year, for Mr. Thorpe's investments were invariably sound and
+sure. He preferred a safe four or four and a half per cent, bond to an
+"attractive six." With the coming of each month in the year, Anne was
+notified by the Trust Company that anywhere from seven to eight thousand
+dollars had been credited to her account in the bank. She kept her own
+private account in another bank, and it was against this that she drew
+her checks. She did not withdraw a dollar of the interest arising from
+her matrimonial investment!</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn, supremely confident and self-assured, sustained the
+greatest shock of her life when she found that Anne was behaving in this
+quixotic manner about the profits of the enterprise. At first she could
+not believe her ears. But Anne was obdurate, She maintained that her
+contract called for two million dollars and no more, and she refused to
+consider this extraneous accumulation as rightfully her own. Her mother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>
+berated her without effect. She subjected her to countless attacks from
+as many angles, but Anne was as "hard as nails."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not earning this ninety thousand a year, mother," she declared
+hotly, "and I shall not accept it as a gift. If I were Mr. Thorpe's wife
+in every sense of the term, it might be different, but as you happen to
+know I am nothing more than a figure of speech in his household. I am
+not even his nurse, nor his housekeeper, nor his friend. He despises me.
+I despise myself, for that matter, so he's not quite alone in his
+opinion. I've sold myself for a price, mother, but you must at least
+grant me the privilege of refusing to draw interest on my infamy."</p>
+
+<p>"Infamy!" gasped Mrs. Tresslyn. "Infamy? What rot,&mdash;what utter rot!"</p>
+
+<p>"Just the same, I shall confine myself to the original bargain. It is
+bad enough. I shan't make it any worse by taking money that doesn't
+belong to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Those bonds are yours," snapped Mrs. Tresslyn. "You are certainly
+entitled to the interest. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"They are <i>not</i> mine," returned Anne decisively. "Not until Mr. Thorpe
+is dead, if you please. I am to have my pay after he has passed away, no
+sooner. That was the bargain."</p>
+
+<p>"You did not hesitate to accept some rather expensive pearls if I
+remember correctly," said Mrs. Tresslyn bitingly.</p>
+
+<p>"That was his affair, not mine," said Anne coolly. "He despises me so
+thoroughly that he thought he could go beyond his contract and tempt me
+with this interest we are quarrelling about, mother. He was sure that I
+would jump at it as a greedy fish snaps at the bait. But I disappointed
+him. I shall never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> forget the look of surprise,&mdash;no, it was
+wonder,&mdash;that came into his eyes when I flatly refused to take this interest.
+That was nearly a year ago. He began to treat me with a little respect
+after that. There is scarcely a month goes by that he does not bring up
+the subject. I think he has never abandoned the hope that I may give in,
+after all. Lately he has taken to chuckling when I make my monthly
+protest against accepting this money. He can't believe it of me. He
+thinks there is something amusing about what I have been foolish enough
+to call my sense of honour. Still, I believe he has a little better
+opinion of me than he had at first. And now, mother, once and for all,
+let us consider the matter closed. I will not take the interest until
+the principal is indisputably mine."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a fool, Anne," said her mother, in her desperation; "a simple,
+ridiculous fool. Why shouldn't you take it? It is yours. You can't
+afford to throw away ninety thousand dollars. The bank has orders to pay
+it over to you, and it is deposited to your account. That ought to
+settle the matter. If it isn't yours, may I enquire to whom does it
+belong?"</p>
+
+<p>"Time enough to decide that, mother," said Anne, so composedly that Mrs.
+Tresslyn writhed with exasperation. "I haven't quite decided who is to
+have it in the end. You may be sure, however, that I shall give it to
+some worthy cause. It shan't be wasted."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say that you will give it away&mdash;give it to charity?"
+groaned her mother.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly."</p>
+
+<p>Words failed Mrs. Tresslyn. She could only stare in utter astonishment
+at this incomprehensible creature.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I may have to ask your advice when the time comes," went on Anne,
+complacently. "You must assist me in selecting the most worthy charity,
+mother dear."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose it has never occurred to you that there is some justice in
+the much abused axiom that charity begins at home," said Mrs. Tresslyn
+frigidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Not in our home, however," said Anne. "That's where it ends, if it ends
+anywhere."</p>
+
+<p>"I have hesitated to speak to you about it, Anne, but I am afraid I
+shall now have to confess that I am sorely pressed for money," said Mrs.
+Tresslyn deliberately, and from that moment on she never ceased to
+employ this argument in her crusade against Anne's ingratitude.</p>
+
+<p>There was no estrangement. Neither of them could afford to go to such
+lengths. They saw a great deal of each other, and, despite the constant
+bickerings over the idle money, there was little to indicate that they
+were at loggerheads. Mrs. Tresslyn was forced at last to recognise the
+futility of her appeals to Anne's sense of duty, and contented herself
+with occasional bitter references to her own financial distress. She
+couldn't understand the girl, and she gave up trying. As a matter of
+fact, she began to fear that she would never be able to understand
+either one of her children. She could not even imagine how they could
+have come by the extraordinary stubbornness with which they appeared to
+be afflicted.</p>
+
+<p>As for George Tresslyn, he was going to the dogs as rapidly and as
+accurately as possible. He took to drink, and drink took him to cards.
+The efforts of Simmy Dodge and other friends, including the despised
+Percy Wintermill, were of no avail. He developed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> a pugnacious capacity
+for resenting advice. It was easy to see what was behind the big boy's
+behaviour: simple despair. He counted himself among the failures. In due
+time he lost his position in Wall Street and became a complaining
+dependent upon his mother's generosity. He met her arguments with the
+furious and constantly reiterated charge that she had ruined his life.
+That was another thing that Mrs. Tresslyn could not understand. How, in
+heaven's name, had she ruined his life?</p>
+
+<p>He took especial delight in directing her attention to the upward
+progress of the discredited Lutie.</p>
+
+<p>That attractive young person, much to Mrs. Tresslyn's disgust, actually
+had insinuated her vulgar presence into comparatively good society, and
+was coming on apace. Blithe, and gay, and discriminating, the former
+"mustard girl" was making a place for herself among the moderately smart
+people. Now and then her name appeared in the society columns of the
+newspapers, where, much to Mrs. Tresslyn's annoyance, she was always
+spoken of as "Mrs. George Dexter Tresslyn." Moreover, in several
+instances, George's mother had found her own name printed next to
+Lutie's in the alphabetical list of guests at rather large
+entertainments, and once,&mdash;heaven forfend that it should happen
+again!&mdash;the former "mustard girl's" picture was published on the same
+page of a supplement with that of the exclusive Mrs. Tresslyn and her
+daughter, Mrs. Templeton Thorpe, over the caption: "The Tresslyn
+Triumvirate," supplied by a subsequently disengaged art editor.</p>
+
+<p>George came near to being turned out into the street one day when he so
+far forgot himself as to declare that Lutie was worth the whole Tresslyn
+lot put together,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> and she ought to be thankful she had had "the can
+tied to her" in time. His mother was livid with fury.</p>
+
+<p>"If you ever mention that person's name in this house again, you will
+have to leave it forever. If she's worth anything at all it is because
+she has appropriated the Tresslyn name that you appear to belittle.
+You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She didn't appropriate it," flared George. "I remember distinctly of
+having given it to her. I don't care what you say or do, mother, she
+deserves a lot of credit. She's made a place for herself, she's decent,
+she's clever&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She hasn't earned a place for herself, let me remind you, sir. She made
+it out of the proceeds of a sale, the sale of a husband. Don't forget,
+George, that she sold you for so much cash."</p>
+
+<p>"A darned good bargain," said he, "seeing that she got me at my own
+value,&mdash;which was nothing at all."</p>
+
+<p>Lutie went on her way serenely, securely. If she had a thought for
+George Tresslyn she succeeded very well in keeping it to herself. Men
+would have made love to her, but she denied them that exquisite
+distraction. Back in her mind lurked something that guaranteed immunity.</p>
+
+<p>The year had dealt its changes to Lutie as well as to the others, but
+they were not important. Discussing herself frankly with Simmy Dodge one
+evening, she said:</p>
+
+<p>"I'm getting on, am I not, Simmy? But, after all, why shouldn't I? I'm a
+rather decent sort, and I'm not a real vulgarian, am I? Like those
+people over there at the next table, I mean. The more I go about,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> the
+more I realise that class is a matter of acquaintance. If you know the
+right sort of people, and have known them long enough, you unconsciously
+form habits that the other sort of people haven't got, so you're said to
+have 'class.' Of course, you've got to be imitative, you've got to be
+able to mimic the real ones, but that isn't difficult if you're half way
+bright, don't you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Lord love you, Lutie, you don't have to imitate any one," said Simmy.
+"You're in a class by yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, Simmy. Don't let any one else at the table hear you say such
+things to me, though. They would think that I'd just come in from the
+country. Why shouldn't I get on? How many of the girls that you meet in
+your day's walk have graduated from a high-school? How many of the great
+ladies who rule New York society possess more than a common school
+education, outside of the tricks they've learned after they put on long
+frocks? Not many, let me tell you, Simmy. Four-fifths of them can't
+spell Connecticut, and they don't know how many e's there are in
+'separate.' I graduated from a high school in Philadelphia, and my
+mother did the same thing before me. I also played on the basket-ball
+team, if that means anything to you. My parents were poor but
+respectable, God-fearing people, as they say in the novels, and they
+were quite healthy as parents go in these days, when times are hard and
+children so cheap that nobody's without a good sized pack of them. I was
+born with a brain that was meant to be used."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you two talking about so secretively?" demanded Mrs. Rumsey
+Fenn, across the table from them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ourselves, of course," said Lutie. "Bright people always have something
+in reserve, my dear. We save the very best for an extremity. Simmy
+delights in talking about me, and I love to talk about him. It's the
+simplest kind of small talk and doesn't disturb us in the least if we
+should happen to be thinking of something else at the time."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you heard when Braden Thorpe is expected home, Simmy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Had a letter from him yesterday. He sails next week. Is there any
+tinkering to be done for your family this season, Madge? Any little old
+repairs to be made?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid not," said Mrs. Fenn desolately, "Rumsey positively refuses
+to imagine he's got a pain anywhere, and the baby's tonsils are
+disgustingly healthy."</p>
+
+<p>"Old Templeton Thorpe's in a critical condition, I hear," put in Rumsey
+Fenn. "There'll be a choice widow in the market before long, I pledge
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't they operate?" inquired his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"Not for malignant widows," said Mr. Fenn.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't be silly. I should think old Mr. Thorpe would let Braden
+operate. Just think what a fine boost it would give Braden if the
+operation was a success."</p>
+
+<p>"And also if it failed," said one of the men, sententiously. "He's the
+principal heir, isn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>Simmy scowled. "Brady would be the last man in the world to tackle the
+job," he said, and the subject was dropped at once.</p>
+
+<p>And so the end of the year finds Templeton Thorpe on his death bed, Anne
+a quixotic ingrate, George among the diligently unemployed, Lutie on the
+crest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> of popularity, Braden in contempt of court, and Mrs. Tresslyn
+sorely tried by the vagaries of each and every one of the aforesaid
+persons.</p>
+
+<p>Simmy Dodge appears to be the only one among them all who stands just as
+he did at the beginning of the year. He has neither lost nor gained. He
+has merely stood still.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>When Dr. Braden Thorpe arrived in New York City on the fourteenth of
+March he was met at the pier by a horde of newspaper men. For the first
+time, he was made to appreciate "the importance of being earnest." These
+men, through a frequently prompted spokesman, put questions to him that
+were so startling in their boldness that he was staggered by the
+misconception that had preceded him into his home land.</p>
+
+<p>He was asked such questions as these: "But, doctor, would you do that
+sort of thing to a person who was dear to you,&mdash;say a wife, a mother or
+an only child?" "How could you be sure that a person was hopelessly
+afflicted?" "Have you ever put this theory of yours into practice on the
+other side?" "How many lives have you taken in this way, doctor,&mdash;if it
+is a fair question?" "Do you expect to practise openly in New York?"
+"And if you do practise, how many patients do you imagine would come to
+you, knowing your views?" "How would you kill 'em,&mdash;with poison or
+what?" And so on, almost without end.</p>
+
+<p>He was to find that a man can become famous and infamous in a single
+newspaper headline, and as for the accuracy of the interviews there was
+but one thing to be said: the questions were invariably theirs and the
+answers also. He did his best to make them understand that he was merely
+advancing a principle and not practising a crime, that his hand had
+never been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> brought down to kill, that his heart was quite as tender as
+any other man's, and that he certainly was not advocating murder in any
+degree. Nor was he at present attempting to proselyte.</p>
+
+<p>When he finally escaped the reporters, his brow was wet with the sweat
+of one who finds himself confronted by a superior force and with no
+means of defence. He knew that he was to be assailed by every paper in
+New York. They would tear him to shreds.</p>
+
+<p>Wade was at the pier. He waited patiently in the background while the
+returned voyager dealt with the reporters, appearing abruptly at
+Braden's elbow as he was giving his keys to the inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, sir," said Wade, in what must be recorded as a
+confidential tone. He might have been repeating the salutation of
+yesterday morning for all that his manner betrayed.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Wade! Glad to see you." Braden shook hands with the man. "How is
+my grandfather?"</p>
+
+<p>"Better, sir," said the other, meaning that his master was more
+comfortable than he had been during the night.</p>
+
+<p>Wade was not as much of an optimist as his reply would seem to indicate.
+It was his habit to hold bad news in reserve as long as possible,
+doubtless for the satisfaction it gave him to dribble it out sparingly.
+He had found it to his advantage to break all sorts of news hesitatingly
+to his master, for he was never by way of knowing what Mr. Thorpe would
+regard as bad news. For example, early in his career as valet, he had
+rushed into Mr. Thorpe's presence with what he had every reason to
+believe would be good news. He had been sent over to the home of Mr.
+Thorpe's son for an important bit of information, and he supplied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> it by
+almost shouting as he burst into the library: "It's a fine boy, sir,&mdash;a
+splendid ten-pounder, sir." But Mr. Thorpe, instead of accepting the
+good news gladly, spoiled everything by anxiously inquiring, "And how is
+the poor little mother getting along?"&mdash;a question which caused Wade
+grave annoyance, for he had to reply: "I'm sorry, sir, but she's not
+expected to live the hour out."</p>
+
+<p>All of which goes to show that Mr. Thorpe never regarded any news as
+good without first satisfying himself that it wasn't bad.</p>
+
+<p>"I have the automobile outside, sir," went on Wade, "and I am to look
+after your luggage."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Wade. If you'll just grab these bags and help the porter out
+to the car with them, I'll be greatly obliged. And then you may drop me
+at the Wolcott. I shall stop there for a few days, until I get my
+bearings."</p>
+
+<p>Wade coughed insinuatingly. "Beg pardon, sir, but I was to fetch you
+straight home."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to my grandfather's?" demanded the young man sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. Those were the orders."</p>
+
+<p>"Orders to be disobeyed, I fear, Wade," said Braden darkly. "I am not
+going to Mr. Thorpe's house."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand, sir," said Wade patiently. "I quite understand. Still it
+is my duty to report to you that Mr. Thorpe is expecting you."</p>
+
+<p>"Nevertheless, I shall not&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I should inform you that your grandfather is&mdash;er&mdash;confined to
+his bed. As a matter of fact, Mr. Braden, he is confined to his
+death-bed."</p>
+
+<p>Braden was shocked. Later on, as he was being rushed across town in the
+car, he drew from Wade all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> of the distressing details. He had never
+suspected the truth. Indeed, his grandfather had kept the truth from him
+so successfully that he had come to look upon him as one of the
+fortunate few who arrive at death in the full possession of health,
+those who die because the machinery stops of its own accord. And now the
+worst possible death was stalking his benefactor, driving,&mdash;always
+driving without pity. Braden's heart was cold, his face pallid with
+dread as he hurried up the steps to the front door of the familiar old
+house.</p>
+
+<p>He had forgotten Anne and his vow never to enter the house so long as
+she was mistress of it. He forgot that her freedom was about to become
+an accomplished fact, that the thing she had anticipated was now at
+hand. He had often wondered how long it would be in coming to her, and
+how she would stand up under the strain of the half score of years or
+more that conceivably might be left to the man she had married. There
+had been times when he laughed in secret anticipation of the
+probabilities that attended her unwholesome adventure. Years of it!
+Years of bondage before she could lay hands upon the hard-earned fruits
+of freedom!</p>
+
+<p>As he entered the hall Anne came out of the library to greet him. There
+was no hesitation on her part, no pretending. She came directly to him,
+her hand extended. He had stopped stock-still on seeing her.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad you have come, Braden," she said, letting her hand fall to
+her side. Either he had ignored it or was too dismayed to notice it at
+all. "Mr. Thorpe has waited long and patiently for you. I am glad you
+have come."</p>
+
+<p>He was staring at her, transfixed. There was no change in her
+appearance. She was just as he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> seen her on that last,
+never-to-be-forgotten day,&mdash;the same tall, slender, beautiful Anne. And
+yet, as he stared, he saw something in her eyes that had not been there
+before: the shadow of fear.</p>
+
+<p>"I must see him immediately," said he, and was at once conscious of a
+regret that he had not first said something kind to her. She had the
+stricken look in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You will find him in his old room," she said quietly. "The nurse is a
+friend of yours, a Miss McKane."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you." He turned away, but at the foot of the staircase paused.
+"Is there no hope?" he inquired. "Is it as bad as Wade&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There is only one hope, Braden," she said, "and that is that he may die
+soon." Curiously, he was not shocked by this remark. He appreciated the
+depth of feeling behind it. She was thinking of Templeton Thorpe, not of
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I can't tell you how shocked, how grieved I am," he said. "It
+is&mdash;terrible."</p>
+
+<p>She drew a few steps nearer. "I want you to feel, Braden, that you are
+free to come and go&mdash;and to stay&mdash;in this house. I know that you have
+said you would not come here while I am its mistress. I am in no sense
+its mistress. I have no place here. If you prefer not to see me, I shall
+make it possible by remaining in my room. It is only fair that I should
+speak to you at once about&mdash;about this. That is why I waited here to see
+you. I may as well tell you that Mr. Thorpe does not expect me to visit
+his room,&mdash;in fact, he undoubtedly prefers that I should not do so. I
+have tried to help him. I have done my best, Braden. I want you to know
+that. It is possible that he may tell you as much. Your place is here.
+You must not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> regard me an obstacle. It will not be necessary for you to
+communicate with me. I shall understand. Dr. Bates keeps me fully
+informed." She spoke without the slightest trace of bitterness.</p>
+
+<p>He heard her to the end without lifting his gaze from the floor. When
+she was through, he looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>are</i> the mistress of the house, Anne. I shall not overlook the
+fact, even though you may. If my grandfather wishes me to do so, I shall
+remain here in the house with him&mdash;to the end, not simply as his
+relative, but to do what little I can in a professional way. Why was I
+not informed of his condition?" His manner was stern.</p>
+
+<p>"You must ask that question of Mr. Thorpe himself," said she. "As I have
+told you, he is the master of the house. The rules are his, not mine;
+and, by the same token, the commands are his."</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated for a moment. "You might have sent word to me. Why didn't
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I was under orders," she said steadily. "Mr. Thorpe would not
+allow us to send for you. There was an excellent purpose back of his
+decision to keep you on the other side of the Atlantic until you were
+ready to return of your own accord. I daresay, if you reflect for a
+moment, you will see through his motives."</p>
+
+<p>His eyes narrowed. "There was no cause for apprehension," he said
+coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"It was something I could not discuss with him, however," she returned,
+"and so I was hardly in a position to advise him. You must believe me,
+Braden, when I say that I am glad for his sake that you are here. He
+will die happily now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He has suffered&mdash;so terribly?"</p>
+
+<p>"It has been too horrible,&mdash;too horrible," she cried, suddenly covering
+her eyes and shivering as with a great chill.</p>
+
+<p>The tears rushed to Braden's eyes. "Poor old granddaddy," he murmured.
+Then, after a second's hesitation, he turned and swiftly mounted the
+stairs.</p>
+
+<p>Anne, watching him from below, was saying to herself, over and over
+again: "He will never forgive me, he will never forgive me." Later on,
+alone in the gloomy library, she sat staring at the curtained window
+through which the daylight came darkly, and passed final judgment upon
+herself after months of indecision: "I have been too sure of myself, too
+sure of him. What a fool I've been to count on a thing that is so easily
+killed. What a fool I've been to go on believing that his love would
+survive in spite of the blow I've given it. I've lost him. I may as well
+say farewell to the silly hope I've been coddling all these months." She
+frowned as she allowed her thoughts to run into another channel. "But
+they shall not laugh at me. I'll play the game out. No whimpering, old
+girl. Stand up to it."</p>
+
+<p>Wade was waiting outside his master's door, his ear cocked as of old.
+The same patient, obsequious smile greeted Braden as he came up.</p>
+
+<p>"He knows you are here, Mr. Braden. I sent in word by the nurse."</p>
+
+<p>"He is conscious?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. That's the worst of it. Always conscious, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Then he can't be as near to death as you think, Wade. He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's a pity, sir," said Wade frankly. "I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> in hopes that it would
+soon be all over for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I to go in at once?"</p>
+
+<p>"May I have a word or two with you first, sir?" said Wade, lowering his
+voice to a whisper and sending an uneasy glance over his shoulder. "Come
+this way, sir. It's safer over here. Uncommonly sharp ears he has, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what is it? I must not be delayed&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't keep you a minute, Mr. Braden. It's something I feel I ought
+to tell you. Mr. Thorpe is quite in his right mind, sir, so you'll
+appreciate more fully what a shock his proposition was to me. In a word,
+Mr. Braden, he has offered me a great sum of money if I'll put four of
+those little pills into a glass of water to-night and give it to him to
+drink. There's enough poison in them to kill three men in a flash, sir.
+My God, Mr. Braden, it was&mdash;it was terrible!" The man's face was livid.</p>
+
+<p>"A great sum of money&mdash;" began Braden dumbly. Then the truth struck him
+like a blow in the face. "Good God, Wade,&mdash;he&mdash;he wanted you to <i>kill</i>
+him!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's it, sir, that's it," whispered Wade jerkily. "He has an envelope
+up there with fifty thousand dollars in it. He had me count them a week
+ago, right before his eyes, and hide the envelope in a drawer. You see
+how he trusts me, sir? He knows that I could rob him to-night if I
+wanted to do so. Or what's to prevent my making off with the money after
+he's gone? Nobody would ever know. But he knows me too well. He trusts
+me. I was to give him the poison the night after you got home, and I
+would never be suspected of doing it because the pills have been lying
+on his table for weeks, ready for him to take at any time. Every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> one
+might say that he took them himself, don't you see?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then, in God's name, why doesn't he take them,&mdash;why does he ask you to
+give them to him?" cried Braden, an icy perspiration on his brow.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the very point, sir," explained Wade. "He says he has tried to
+do it, but&mdash;well, he just can't, sir. Mr. Thorpe is a God-fearing man.
+He will not take his own life. He&mdash;he says he believes there is a hell,
+Mr. Braden. I just wanted to tell you that I&mdash;I can't do what he asks me
+to do. Not for all the money in the world. He seems to think that I
+don't believe there is a hell. Anyhow, sir, he appears to think it would
+be quite all right for me to kill a fellow man. Beg pardon, sir; I
+forgot that you have been writing all these articles about&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right, Wade," interrupted Braden. "Tell me, has he made this
+proposition to any one else? To the nurses, to Murray&mdash;any one?"</p>
+
+<p>Wade hesitated. "I'm quite sure he hasn't appealed to any one but me,
+sir, except&mdash;that is to say&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Who else?"</p>
+
+<p>"He told me plainly that he couldn't ask any of the nurses to do it,
+because he thought it ought to be done by a friend or a&mdash;member of the
+family. The doctors, of course, might do it unbeknownst to him, but they
+won't, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Whom else did he speak to about it?" insisted Braden.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't be sure, but I think he has spoken to Mrs. Thorpe a good many
+times about it. Every time she is alone with him, in fact, sir. I've
+heard him pleading with her,&mdash;yes, and cursing her, too,&mdash;and her voice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>
+is always full of horror when she says 'No, no! I will not do it! I
+cannot!' You see, sir, I always stand here by the door, waiting to be
+called, so I catch snatches of conversation when their voices are
+raised. Besides, she's always as white as a sheet when she comes out,
+and two or three times she has actually run to her room as if she was
+afraid he was pursuing her. I can't help feeling, Mr. Braden, that he
+considers her a member of the family, and so long as I won't do it,
+he&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Good God, Wade! Don't say anything more! I&mdash;" His knees suddenly seemed
+about to give way under him. He went on in a hoarse whisper: "Why, I&mdash;I
+am a member of the family. You don't suppose he'll&mdash;you don't suppose&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I just thought I'd tell you, sir," broke in Wade, "so's you might be
+prepared. Will you go in now, sir? He is most eager to see you."</p>
+
+<p>Braden entered the room, sick with horror. A member of the family! A
+member of the family to do the killing!</p>
+
+<p>He was shocked by the appearance of the sick old man. Templeton Thorpe
+had wasted to a thin, greyish shadow. His lips were as white as his
+cheek, and that was the colour of chalk. Only his eyes were bright and
+gleaming with the life that remained to him. The grip of his hand was
+strong and firm, and his voice, too, was steady.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been waiting for you, Braden, my boy," said Mr. Thorpe, some time
+after the greetings. He turned himself weakly in the bed and, drawing a
+little nearer to the edge, lowered his voice to a more confidential
+tone. His eyes were burning, his lips drawn tightly across his
+teeth,&mdash;for even at his age Templeton<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> Thorpe was not a toothless thing.
+They were alone in the room. The nurse had seized upon the prospect of a
+short respite.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I had known, granddaddy," lamented Braden. "You should have sent
+for me long ago."</p>
+
+<p>"That is the fifth or sixth time you've made that remark in the last ten
+minutes," said Mr. Thorpe, a querulous note stealing into his voice.
+"Don't say it again. By the way, suppose that I had sent for you: what
+could you have done? What good could you have done? Answer me that."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no telling, sir. At least, I could have done my share of
+the&mdash;that is to say, I might have been useful in a great many ways. You
+may be sure, sir, that I should have been in constant attendance. I
+should have been on hand night and day."</p>
+
+<p>"You would have assisted Anne in the death watch, eh?" said Mr. Thorpe,
+with a ghastly smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say that, sir," cried Braden, flinching.</p>
+
+<p>"I may not have the opportunity to speak with you again,
+Braden,&mdash;privately, I mean,&mdash;and, as my time is short, I want to confess
+to you that I have been agreeably surprised in Anne. She has tried to do
+her best. She has not neglected me. She regards me as a human being in
+great pain, and I am beginning to think that she has a heart. There is
+the bare possibility, my boy, that she might have made you a good wife
+if I had not put temptation in her way. In any event, she would not have
+dishonoured you. It goes without saying that she has been wife to me in
+name only. You may find some comfort in that. In the past few weeks I
+have laid even greater temptations before her and she has not fallen. I
+cannot explain further to you, but&mdash;" here he smiled wanly&mdash;"some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> day
+she may tell you in the inevitable attempt to justify herself and win
+back what she has lost. Don't interrupt me, please. She <i>will</i> try,
+never fear, and you will have to be strong to resist her. I know what
+you would say to me, so don't say it. You are horrified by the thought
+of it, but the day will come when you must again raise your hand against
+the woman who loves you. Make no mistake, Braden; she loves you."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe I would strike her dead if she made the slightest appeal
+to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," snapped the old man. "I know you well enough to credit you
+with self-respect, if not self-abnegation. What I am trying to get at is
+this: do you hold a grudge against me for revealing this girl's true
+character to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I must ask you to excuse me from answering that question, grandfather,"
+said Braden, compressing his lips.</p>
+
+<p>The old man eyed him closely. "Is that an admission that you think I
+have wronged you in saving you from the vampires?" he persisted
+ironically.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot discuss your wife with you, sir," said the other.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Thorpe continued to regard his grandson narrowly for a moment or two
+longer, and then a look of relief came into his eyes. "I see. I
+shouldn't have asked it of you. Nevertheless, I am satisfied. My
+experiment is a success. You are qualified to distinguish between the
+Tresslyn greed and the Tresslyn love, so I have not failed. They put the
+one above the other and so far they have trusted to luck. If Anne had
+spurned my money I haven't the slightest doubt that she would have
+married you and made you a good wife. The fact that she did not spurn my
+money would seem<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> to prove that she wouldn't make anybody a good wife. I
+know all this is painful to you, my boy, but I must say it to you before
+I die. You see I am dying. That's quite apparent, even to the idiots who
+are trying to keep me alive. They do not fool me with their: 'Aha, Mr.
+Thorpe, how are we to-day? Better, eh?' I am dying by inches,&mdash;fractions
+of inches, to be precise." He stopped short, out of breath after this
+long speech.</p>
+
+<p>Braden laid his hand upon the bony fore-arm. "How long have you known,
+granddaddy, that you had this&mdash;this&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Cancer? Say it, my boy. I'm not afraid of the word. Most people are.
+It's a dreadful word. How can I answer your question? Years, no doubt.
+It became active a year and a half ago. I knew what it was, even then."</p>
+
+<p>"In heaven's name, sir, why did you let it go on? An operation at that
+time might have&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You forget that I could afford to wait. When a man gets to be as old as
+I am he can philosophise even in the matter of death. What is a year or
+two, one way or the other, to me? An operation is either an experiment
+or a last resort, isn't it? Well, my boy, I preferred to look upon it as
+a last resort, and as such I concluded to put it off until the last
+minute, when it wouldn't make any difference which way it resulted. If
+it had resulted fatally a year and a half ago, what would I have gained?
+If it should take place to-morrow, with the same result, haven't I
+cheated Time out of eighteen months?"</p>
+
+<p>"But the pain, the suffering," cried Braden. "You might at least have
+spared yourself the whole lifetime of pain that you have lived in these
+last few months. You haven't cheated pain out of its year and a half."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"True," said Mr. Thorpe, his lips twitching with the pain he was trying
+to defy; "I have not been able to laugh at the futility of pain. Ah!" It
+was almost a scream that issued from between his stretched lips. He
+began to writhe....</p>
+
+<p>"Come in again to-night," he said half an hour later, whispering the
+words with difficulty. The two nurses and the doctor's assistant, who
+had been staying in the house for more than a week, now stood back from
+the bedside, dripping with perspiration. The paroxysm had been one of
+the worst he had experienced. They had believed for a time that it was
+also to be the last. Braden Thorpe, shaking like a leaf because of the
+very inactivity that was forced upon him by the activity of others,
+wiped the sweat from his brow, and nodded his head in speechless
+despair. "Come in to-night, after you've talked with Anne and Dr. Bates.
+I'm easier now. It can't go on much longer, you see. Bates gives me a
+couple of weeks. That means a couple of centuries of pain, however. Go
+now and talk it over with Anne."</p>
+
+<p>With this singular admonition pounding away at his senses, Braden went
+out of the room. Wade,&mdash;the ever-present Wade,&mdash;was outside the door.
+His expression was as calmly attentive as it would have been were his
+master yawning after a healthy nap instead of screaming with all the
+tortures of the damned. As Braden hurried by, hardly knowing whither he
+went, the servant did something he had never done before in his life. He
+ventured to lay a detaining hand upon the arm of a superior.</p>
+
+<p>"Did he ask you to&mdash;to do it, Master Braden?" he whispered hoarsely. The
+man's eyes were glazed with dread.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Braden stopped. At first he did not comprehend. Then Wade's meaning was
+suddenly revealed to him. He drew back, aghast.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord, no! No, no!" he cried out.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Wade deliberately, "he will, mark my words, sir. I don't
+mind saying to you, Mr. Braden, that he <i>depends</i> upon you."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you crazy, Wade?" gasped Braden, searching the man's face with an
+intentness that betrayed his own fear that the prophecy would come true.
+Something had already told him that his grandfather would depend upon
+him for complete relief,&mdash;and it was that something that had gripped his
+heart when he entered the sick-room, and still gripped it with all the
+infernal tenacity of inevitableness.</p>
+
+<p>He hurried on, like one hunted and in search of a place in which to hide
+until the chase had passed. At the foot of the stairs he came upon
+Murray, the butler.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Thorpe says that you are to go to your old room, Mr. Braden," said
+the butler. "Will you care for tea, sir, or would you prefer something a
+little stronger?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, Murray, thank you," replied Braden, cold with a strange new
+terror. He could not put aside the impression that Murray, the bibulous
+Murray, was also regarding him in the light of an executioner. Somewhere
+back in his memory there was aroused an old story about the citizens who
+sat up all night to watch for the coming of the hangman who was to do a
+grewsome thing at dawn. He tried to shake off the feeling, he tried to
+laugh at the fantastic notion that had so swiftly assailed him. "I
+think I shall go to my room. Call me, if I am needed."</p>
+
+<p>He did not want to see Anne. He shrank from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> revelations that were
+certain to come from the harassed wife of the old man who wanted to die.
+As he remounted the stairs, he was subtly aware that some one opened a
+door below and watched him as he fled. He did not look behind, but he
+knew that the watcher was white-faced and pleading, and that she too was
+counting on him for support.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later, a servant knocked at his door. The afternoon was far gone
+and the sky was overcast with sinister streaks of clouds that did not
+move, but hung like vast Zeppelins over the harbour beyond: long,
+blue-black clouds with white bellies. Mournful clouds that waited for
+the time to come when they could burst into tears! He had been watching
+them as they crept up over the Jersey shores, great stealthy birds of
+ill-omen, giving out no sound yet ponderous in their flight. He started
+at the gentle tapping on his door; a strange hope possessed his soul.
+Was this a friendly hand that knocked? Was its owner bringing him the
+word that the end had come and that he would not be called upon to deny
+the great request? He sprang to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Bates is below, sir," said the maid. "He would like to see you
+before he goes."</p>
+
+<p>Braden's heart sank. "I'll come at once, Katie."</p>
+
+<p>There were three doctors in the library. Dr. Bates went straight to the
+point.</p>
+
+<p>"Your grandfather, Braden, has a very short time to live. He has just
+dismissed us. Our services are no longer required in this case, if I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Dismissed you?" cried Braden, unbelievingly.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Bates smiled. "We can do nothing more for him, my boy. It is just as
+well that we should go. He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But, my God, sir, you cannot leave him to die in&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Have patience, my lad. We are not leaving him to die alone. By his
+express command, we are turning the case over to you. You are to be his
+sole&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I refuse!" shouted Braden.</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot refuse,&mdash;you will not, I am sure. For your benefit I may say
+that the case is absolutely hopeless. Not even a miracle can save him.
+If you will give me your closest attention, I will, with Dr. Bray's
+support, describe his condition and all that has led up to this unhappy
+crisis. Sit down, my boy. I am your good friend. I am not your critic,
+nor your traducer. Sit down and listen calmly, if you can. You should
+know just what is before you, and you must also know that every surgeon
+who has been called in consultation expresses but one opinion. In truth,
+it is not an opinion that they venture, but an unqualified decision."</p>
+
+<p>For a long time Braden sat as if paralysed and listened to the words of
+the fine old doctor. At last the three arose and stood over him.</p>
+
+<p>"You understand everything now, Braden," said Dr. Bates, a tremor in his
+voice. "May God direct your course. We shall not come here again. You
+are not to feel that we are deserting you, however, for that is not
+true. We go because you have come, because you have been put in sole
+charge. And now, my boy, I have something else to say to you as an old
+friend. I know your views. Not I alone, but Dr. Bray and thousands of
+others, have felt as you feel about such things. There have been
+countless instances, like the one at hand, when we have wished that we
+might be faithless to the tenets of a noble profession. But we have
+never faltered. It is not our province to be merciful, if I may put it
+in that way, but to be conscientious.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> It is our duty to save, not to
+destroy. That is what binds every doctor to his patient. Take the advice
+of an old man, Braden, and don't allow your pity to run away with your
+soul. Take my advice, lad. Let God do the deliberate killing. He will do
+it in his own good time, for all of us. I speak frankly, for I know you
+consider me your friend and well-wisher."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Dr. Bates," said Braden, hoarsely. "The advice is not
+needed, however. I am not a murderer. I could not kill that poor old man
+upstairs, no matter how dreadfully he suffers. I fear that you have
+overlooked the fact that I am an advocate, not a performer, of merciful
+deeds. You should not confuse my views with my practice. I advocate
+legalising the destruction of the hopelessly afflicted. Inasmuch as it
+is not a legal thing to do at present, I shall continue to practise my
+profession as all the rest of you do: conscientiously." He was standing
+before them. His face was white and his hands were clenched.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to hear you say that, Braden," said Dr. Bates gently.
+"Forgive me. One last word, however. If you need me at any time, I stand
+ready to come to you. If you conclude to operate, I&mdash;I shall advise
+against it, of course,&mdash;you may depend upon me to be with you when
+you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But you have said, Dr. Bates, that you do not believe an operation
+would be of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"In my opinion it would be fatal. But you must not forget that God
+rules, not we mortals. We do not know everything. I am frank to confess
+that there is not one among us who is willing to take the chance, if
+that is a guide to you. That's all, my boy. Good-bye. God be with you!"</p>
+
+<p>They passed out of and away from the house.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>In the course of the evening, desolated by the ugly responsibility that
+had been thrust upon him, Braden put aside his scruples, his antipathy,
+and sent word to Anne that he would like to discuss the new situation
+with her. She had not appeared for dinner, which was a doleful affair;
+she did not even favour him with an apology for not coming down.
+Distasteful as the interview promised to be for him, he realised that it
+should not be postponed. His grandfather's wife would have to be
+consulted. It was her right to decide who should attend the sick man.
+While he was acutely confident that she would not oppose his solitary
+attendance, there still struggled in his soul the hope that she might,
+for the sake of appearances at least, insist on calling in other
+physicians. It was a hope that he dared not encourage, however. Fate had
+settled the matter. It was ordained that he should stand where he now
+stood in this unhappy hour.</p>
+
+<p>He recalled his grandfather's declaration that she still loved him. The
+thought turned him sick with loathing, for he believed in his heart that
+it was true. He knew that Anne loved him, and always would love him. But
+he also knew that every vestige of love and respect for her had gone out
+of his heart long ago and that he now felt only the bitterness of
+disillusionment so far as she was concerned. He was not afraid of her.
+She had lost all power to move a single drop of blood in his veins. But
+he was afraid <i>for</i> her.</p>
+
+<p>She came downstairs at nine o'clock. He had not gone near the sick-room
+since his initial visit, earlier in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> the day, literally obeying the
+command of the sick man: to talk matters over with Anne before coming
+again to see him.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to have kept you waiting," she said simply, as she advanced
+into the room. "I have been talking over the telephone with my mother.
+She does not come here any more. It has been nearly three weeks since
+she last came to see me. The dread of it all, don't you know. She is
+positive that she has all of the symptoms. I suppose it is a not
+uncommon fault of the imagination. Of course, I go to see her every
+afternoon. I see no one else, Braden, except good old Simmy Dodge. He
+stops in nearly every day to inquire, and to cheer me up if possible."</p>
+
+<p>She was attired in a simple evening gown,&mdash;an old one, she hastily would
+have informed a woman visitor,&mdash;and it was hard for him to believe that
+this was not the lovely, riant Anne Tresslyn of a year ago instead of
+the hardened mistress of Templeton Thorpe's home. There was no sign of
+confusion or uncertainty in her manner, and not the remotest indication
+that her heart still owned love for him. If she retained a spark of the
+old flame in that beautiful body of hers, it was very carefully secreted
+behind a mask of indifference. She met his gaze frankly, unswervingly.
+Her poise was perfect,&mdash;marvellously so in the face of his ill-concealed
+antipathy.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you know that I have been left in sole charge of the case,"
+he said, without preface.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," she replied calmly. "It was Mr. Thorpe's desire."</p>
+
+<p>"And yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. Were you hoping that I would interpose an objection?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I am not qualified to take charge of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, Braden, if I remind you, that so far as Mr. Thorpe's chances
+for recovery are concerned, he might safely be attended by the simplest
+novice. The result would be the same." She spoke without a trace of
+irony. "Dr. Bates and the others were willing to continue, but what was
+the use? They do not leave you a thing to stand on, Braden. There is
+nothing that you can do. I am sorry. It seems a pity for you to have
+come home to this."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled faintly, whether at her use of the word "home" or the prospect
+she laid down for him it would be difficult to say.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we sit down, Anne, and discuss the situation?" he said. "It is
+one of my grandfather's orders, so I suppose we shall have to obey."</p>
+
+<p>She sank gracefully into a deep chair at the foot of the library table,
+and motioned for him to take one near-by. The light from the chandelier
+fell upon her brown hair, and glinted.</p>
+
+<p>"It is very strange, Braden, that we should come into each other's lives
+again, and in this manner. It seems so long ago&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Is it necessary to discuss ourselves, Anne?"</p>
+
+<p>She regarded him steadily. "Yes, I think so," she said. "We must at
+least convince ourselves that the past has no right to interfere with or
+overshadow what we may choose to call the present,&mdash;or the future, for
+that matter, if I may look a little farther ahead. The fact remains that
+we are here together, Braden, in spite of all that has happened, and we
+must make the best of it. The world,&mdash;our own little world, I
+mean,&mdash;will be watching us. We must watch ourselves. Oh, don't
+misconstrue that remark, please. We must see to it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> that the world does
+not judge us entirely by our past." She was very cool about it, he
+thought,&mdash;and confident.</p>
+
+<p>"As I said before, Anne, I see no occasion to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," she interrupted. "I beg your pardon. You asked me to see
+you to-night. What is it that you wish to say to me?"</p>
+
+<p>He leaned forward in the chair, his elbows on the arms of it, and
+regarded her fixedly. "Has my grandfather ever appealed to you to&mdash;to&mdash;"
+He stopped, for she had turned deathly pale; she closed her eyes tightly
+as if to shut out some visible horror; a perceptible shudder ran through
+her slender body. As Braden started to rise, she raised her eye-lids,
+and in her lovely eyes he saw horror, dread, appeal, all in one. "I'm
+sorry," he murmured, in distress "I should have been more&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right," she said, recovering herself with an effort. "I
+thought I had prepared myself for the question you were so sure to ask.
+I have been through hell in the past two weeks, Braden. I have had to
+listen to the most infamous proposals&mdash;but perhaps it would be better
+for me to repeat them to you just as they were made to me, and let you
+judge for yourself."</p>
+
+<p>She leaned back in the chair, as if suddenly tired. Her voice was low
+and tense, and at no time during her recital did she raise it above the
+level at which she started. Plainly, she was under a severe strain and
+was afraid that she might lose control of herself.</p>
+
+<p>It appeared that Mr. Thorpe had put her to the supreme test. In brief,
+he had called upon his young wife to put him out of his misery!
+Cunningly, he had beset her with the most amazing temptations. Her story
+was one of those incredible things that one cannot believe because the
+mind refuses to entertain the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> utterly revolting. In the beginning the
+old man, consumed by pain, implored her to perform a simple act of
+mercy. He told her of the four little pellets and the glass of water. At
+that time she treated the matter lightly. The next day he began his sly,
+persistent campaign against what he was pleased to call her inhumanity;
+he did not credit her with scruples. There was something Machiavellian
+in the sufferer's scheming. He declared that there could be no criminal
+intent on her part, therefore her conscience would never be afflicted.
+The fact that he consented to the act was enough to clear her
+conscience, if that was all that restrained her. She realised that he
+was in earnest now, and fled the room in horror.</p>
+
+<p>Then he tried to anger her with abuse and calumny to such an extent that
+she would be driven to the deed by sheer rage. Failing in this, he
+resumed his wheedling tactics. It would be impossible, he argued, for
+any one to know that she had given him the soothing poison. The doctors
+would always believe that he had overcome his prejudice against
+self-destruction and had taken the tablets, just as they intended and
+evidently desired him to do. But he would not take his own life. He
+would go on suffering for years before he would send his soul to
+purgatory by such an act. He believed in damnation. He had lived an
+honourable, upright life and he maintained that his soul was entitled to
+the salvation his body had earned for it by its resistance to the evils
+of the flesh. What, said he, could be more incompatible with a lifelong
+observance of God's laws than the commission of an act for which there
+could be no forgiveness, what more terrible than going into the presence
+of his maker with sin as his guide and advocate? His last breath of life
+drawn in sin!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Day after day he whispered his wily arguments, and always she fled in
+horror. Her every hour was a nightmare, sleeping or waking. Her strength
+was shattered, yet she was compelled to withstand his daily attacks. He
+never failed to send for her to sit with him while the nurse took her
+exercise. He would have no one else. Ultimately he sought to tempt her
+with offers of gold! He agreed to add a codicil to his will, giving her
+an additional million dollars if she would perform a "simple service"
+for him. That was the way he styled it: a simple service! Merely the
+dropping of four little tablets into a tumbler of water and holding it
+to his lips to drain! Suicide with a distinction, murder by obligation!
+One of his arguments was that she would be free to marry the man she
+loved if he was out of the way. He did not utter the name of the man,
+however.</p>
+
+<p>Anne spoke to no one of these shocking encounters in the darkened
+sick-room. She would not have spoken to Braden but for her husband's
+command given no later than the hour before that she should do so.</p>
+
+<p>"Twice, Braden, I was tempted to do what he asked of me," she said in
+conclusion, almost in a whisper. "He was in such fearful agony. You will
+never know how he has suffered. My heart ached for him. I cannot
+understand how a good and gentle God can inflict such pain upon one of
+his creatures. Why should this Christian be crucified? But I must not
+say such things. Twice I came near to putting those tablets in the glass
+and giving it to him to drink, but both times I shrank even as I took
+them up from the table. I shall never forget the look of joy that came
+into his eyes when he saw me pick them up, nor shall I ever forget the
+look he gave me when I threw them down and put my fingers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> to my ears to
+shut out the sound of his moans. It would have been so easy to end it
+all for him. No one could have known, and he would have died thanking me
+for one good deed at least. Yesterday when I failed him for the second
+time, he made the most horrible confession to me. He said that when he
+married me a year ago he knew that this very crisis would come and that
+he had counted on me then as his deliverer! He actually said to me,
+Braden, that all this was in his mind when he married me. Can't you
+understand? If the time ever came when he wanted to die, who would be
+more likely to serve his purpose than the young, avaricious wife who
+loved another man? Oh, he was not thinking of your good, my friend,&mdash;at
+least, not entirely. He did not want you to throw yourself away on me,
+that's true, but your preservation was not his sole object, let me
+assure you. He planned deeper than we knew. He looked ahead for one year
+and saw what was coming, and he counted on me,&mdash;he counted on the wife
+he had bought. Once he asked me if I had the faintest idea how many
+wives have killed strong and healthy husbands in order that they might
+wed the men they loved better. If murderesses can do that, said he, why
+should I hesitate, when there could be no such thing as murder in
+my&mdash;oh, it was too terrible! Thank God, he thinks better of me now than
+he did on the day he married me. Even though he is your grandfather,
+Braden, I can say to you frankly that if taking his own life means going
+to hell for him, I would see him in hell before I would&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Anne, Anne!" cried he, shaken. "Don't say it! It is too horrible. Think
+of what you were about to say and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I've thought, my friend," she broke in fiercely.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> "It is time for
+you to think of what he would have done for me. He would have sent me to
+hell in his place. Do you understand? Do you suppose that if I had
+killed him, even with mercy and kindness in my heart, I could ever have
+escaped from a hell on earth, no matter what God's judgment may have
+been hereafter? Would heaven after death affect the hell that came
+before?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you believe that there is life beyond the grave?" he demanded. "Do
+you still believe that there is a heaven and a hell?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said firmly, "and down in your soul, Braden, you believe it
+too. We all believe it, even the scientists who scoff. We can't help
+believing it. It is that which makes good men and women of us, which
+keeps us as children to the end. It isn't honour or nobility of
+character that makes us righteous, but the fear of God. It isn't death
+that we dread. We shrink from the answer to the question we've asked all
+through life. Can you answer that question now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not," he said, "nor can I solve the riddle of life. That is
+the great mystery. Death is simple. We know why we die but we don't know
+why we live."</p>
+
+<p>"The same mystery that precedes life also follows it," she said
+stubbornly. "The greatest scientist in the world was once a lifeless
+atom. He acknowledges that, doesn't he? So, my friend, there is
+something even vaster than the greatest of all intelligences, and that
+is ignorance. But we are wasting time. I have told you everything. You
+know just what I've been through. I don't ask for your sympathy, for you
+would be quite right in refusing to give it me. I made my bed, so
+there's the end of it. I am glad that you are here. The situation is in
+your hands, not mine."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What is there for me to do except to sit down, like you, and wait?" he
+groaned, in desperation.</p>
+
+<p>She was silent for a long time, evidently weighing her next remark.
+"What have you to say for your pet theory now, Braden?" she inquired,
+haltingly.</p>
+
+<p>"You may rest assured, Anne, that even were it legally possible, I
+should not put it into practice in this instance," he said coldly.</p>
+
+<p>Her face brightened. "Do you really mean it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you and all the rest of them would understand that I am not
+setting myself up as a butcher&mdash;" he began hotly.</p>
+
+<p>"That is all I want to know," she cried, tremulously. "I have been
+dreading the&mdash;I have found myself wondering if <i>you</i> would give him
+those tablets. Look me straight in the eye, Braden. You will not do
+that, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never!" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know what that means to me," she said in a low voice. Again
+there was a long silence. He was studying her face, and queer notions
+were entering his brain. "Another question, please, and that is all. Can
+his life be prolonged by an operation?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am assured that he could not survive an operation."</p>
+
+<p>"He may ask you to&mdash;to perform one," she said, watching him closely.</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated. "You mean that he is willing to take the chance?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that he realises it will make no difference, one way or the
+other. The other doctors have refused to operate."</p>
+
+<p>"He will not ask me to operate," said Braden, but his soul shook within
+him as he spoke.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We shall see," said she strangely, and then arose. She came quite close
+to him. "I do not want you to operate, Braden. Any one but you. You must
+not take the&mdash;the chance. Now you would better go up to him. Tell him
+you have talked with me. He will understand. He may even speak a good
+word for me. Good night. Thank you for&mdash;for letting me speak with you
+to-night."</p>
+
+<p>She left the room. He stood quite still for a full minute, staring at
+the closed door. Then he passed his hand over his eyes as if to shut out
+the vision that remained. He knew now that his grandfather was right.</p>
+
+<p>In the hall upstairs he found Wade.</p>
+
+<p>"Time you were in bed," said Braden shortly. "Get a little rest, man. I
+am here now. You needn't worry."</p>
+
+<p>"He's been asking for you, sir. The nurse has been out here twice within
+the last ten minutes. Excuse me, Mr. Braden; may I have another word
+with you?" He did not lower his voice. Wade's voice was of a peculiarly
+unpenetrating character. Unless one <i>observed</i> his speech it was
+scarcely audible, and yet one had a queer impression, at a glance, that
+he was speaking a little above the ordinary tone of voice. "Did Mrs.
+Thorpe tell you that her brother has been here to see Mr. Thorpe three
+times within a week?"</p>
+
+<p>Braden started. "She did not, Wade."</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't she tell you, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, it is just this way: Mr. Thorpe sent for young Mr. Tresslyn
+last Friday afternoon. Considerable difficulty was had in finding him.
+He was just a wee bit tipsy when he got here at eight o'clock. Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
+Thorpe did not see him, although Murray went to her room to tell her of
+his arrival. Young Mr. Tresslyn was in Mr. Thorpe's room for ten or
+fifteen minutes, and then left the house in a great hurry, sir. He came
+again on Saturday evening, and acted very queerly. Both times he was
+alone with Mr. Thorpe. Again he fairly rushed out of the house as if he
+was pursued by devils. Then he came on Sunday night, and the same thing
+happened. As he was going out, I spoke to him, and this is what he said
+to me,&mdash;scared-like and shaking all over, sir,&mdash;'I'm not coming here
+again, Wade. No more of it for me. Damn him! You tell my sister that I'm
+not coming again!' Then he went out, mumbling to himself. Right after
+that I went up to Mr. Thorpe. He was very angry. He gave orders that Mr.
+Tresslyn was not to be admitted again. It was then, sir, that he spoke
+to me about the money in the envelope. I have had a notion, sir, that
+the money was first intended for Mr. George Tresslyn, but he didn't like
+that way of earning it any more than I did. Rather strange, too, when
+you stop to think how badly he needs money and how low he's been getting
+these past few months. Poor chap, he&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Wade, you are guessing," interrupted Braden, with a sinking heart.
+"You have no right to surmise&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Beg pardon, sir; I was only putting two and two together. I'm sorry. I
+dare say I am entirely wrong, perhaps a little bit out of my head
+because of the&mdash;Please, sir, do not misunderstand me. I would not for
+the world have you think that I connect Mrs. Thorpe with the business. I
+am sure that she had nothing whatever to do with her brother's visits
+here,&mdash;nothing at all, sir."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Braden's blood was like ice water as he turned away from the man and
+entered his grandfather's room. The nurse was reading to the old man.
+With the young man's entrance, Mr. Thorpe cut her off brusquely and told
+her to leave the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Come here, Braden," he said, after the door had closed behind the
+woman. "Have you talked with Anne?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, grandfather."</p>
+
+<p>"She told you everything?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so. It is terrible. You should not have made such demands&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We won't go into that," said the other harshly, gripping his side with
+his claw-like hand. His face was contorted by pain. After a moment, he
+went on: "She's better than I thought, and so is that good-for-nothing
+brother of hers. I shall never forgive this scoundrel Wade though. He
+has been my servant, my slave for more than thirty years, and I know
+that he hasn't a shred of a conscience. While I think of it, I wish you
+would take this key and unlock the top drawer in my dressing table. See
+if there is an envelope there, will you? There is, eh? Open it. Count
+the bills, Braden."</p>
+
+<p>He lay back, with tightly closed eyes, while Braden counted the package
+of five hundred dollar bank-notes.</p>
+
+<p>"There are fifty thousand dollars here, grandfather," said the young man
+huskily.</p>
+
+<p>"'Pon my soul, they are more honest than I imagined. Well, well, the
+world is getting better."</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I do with this money, sir? You shouldn't have it lying
+around loose with all these&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You may deposit it to my account in the Fifth Avenue Bank to-morrow. It
+is of absolutely no use<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> to me now. Put it in your pocket. It will be
+quite safe with you, I dare say. You are all so inexcusably honest,
+confound you. Sit down. I want to tell you what I've finally decided to
+do. These surgeons say there is about one chance in a million for me, my
+boy. I've decided to take it."</p>
+
+<p>"Take it?" muttered Braden, knowing full well what was to come.</p>
+
+<p>"I have given you the finest education, the finest training that any
+young man ever had, Braden. You owe a great deal to me, I think you will
+admit. Never mind now. Don't thank me. I would not trust my one chance
+to any of these disinterested butchers. They would not care a rap
+whether I pulled through or not. With you, it is different. I believe
+you would&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My God, grandfather, you are not going to ask me to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Sit still! Yes, I am going to ask you to give me that one chance in a
+million. If you fail, I shall not be here to complain. If you
+succeed,&mdash;well, you will have performed a miracle. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But there is no possible chance,&mdash;not the slightest chance of success,"
+cried Braden, the cold sweat running down his face. "I can tell you in
+advance that it means death to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nevertheless, it is worth trying, isn't it, my boy?" said Templeton
+Thorpe softly. "I demand it of you. You are my flesh and blood. You will
+not let me lie here and suffer like this for weeks and months. It is
+your duty to do what you can. It is your time to be merciful, my lad."</p>
+
+<p>Braden's face was in his hands. His body was shaking as if in
+convulsions. He could not look into the old man's eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Send for Bates and Bray to-morrow. Tell them that you have decided to
+operate,&mdash;with my consent. They will understand. It must be done at
+once. You will not fail me. You will do this for your poor old
+granddaddy who has loved you well and who suffers to-day as no man in
+all this world has ever suffered before. I am in agony. Nothing stops
+the pain. Everything has failed. You <i>will</i> do this for me, Braden?"</p>
+
+<p>The young man raised his haggard face. Infinite pity had succeeded
+horror in his eyes.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Simmy Dodge emerged from Sherry's at nine-thirty. He was leaving Mrs.
+Fenwick's dinner-dance in response to an appeal from Anne Thorpe, who
+had sent for him by messenger earlier in the evening. Simmy was
+reluctant about going down to the house off Washington Square; he was
+constituted as one of those who shrink from the unwholesomeness of death
+rather than from its terrors. He was fond of Anne, but in his soul he
+was abusing her for summoning him to bear witness to the final
+translation of old Templeton Thorpe from a warm, sensitive body, into a
+cold, unpleasant hulk. He had no doubt that he had been sent for to see
+the old man die. While he would not, for the world, have denied Anne in
+her hour of distress, he could not help wishing that she had put the
+thing off till to-morrow. Death doesn't appear so ugly in the daytime.
+One is spared the feeling that it is stealing up through the darkness of
+night to lay claim to its prey.</p>
+
+<p>Simmy shivered a little as he stood in front of Sherry's waiting for his
+car to come up. He made up his mind then and there that when it came
+time for him to die he would see to it that he did not do it in the
+night. For, despite the gay lights of the city, there were always sombre
+shadows for one to be jerked into by the relentless hand of death; there
+was something appalling about being dragged off into a darkness that was
+to be dissipated at sunrise, instead of lasting forever.</p>
+
+<p>He left behind him in one of the big private diningrooms<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> a brilliant,
+high-spirited company of revellers. One of Mrs. Fenwick's guests was
+Lutie Tresslyn. He sat opposite her at one of the big round tables, and
+for an hour he had watched with moody eyes her charming, vivacious face
+as she conversed with the men on either side of her. She was as cool, as
+self-contained as any woman at the table. There was nothing to indicate
+that she had not been born to this estate of velvet, unless the
+freshness of her cheek and the brightness of her eye betrayed her by
+contrast with the unmistakable haggardness of "the real thing."</p>
+
+<p>She was unafraid. All at once Simmy was proud of her. He felt the thrill
+of something he could not on the moment define, but which he afterwards
+put down as patriotism! It was just the sort of thrill, he argued, that
+you have when the band plays at West Point and you see the cadets come
+marching toward you with their heads up and their chests out,&mdash;the
+thrill that leaves a smothering, unuttered cheer in your throat.</p>
+
+<p>He thought of Anne Tresslyn too, and smiled to himself. This was Anne
+Tresslyn's set, not Lutie's, and yet here she was, a trim little
+warrior, inside the walls of a fortified place, hobnobbing with the
+formidable army of occupation and staring holes through the uniforms of
+the General Staff! She sat in the Tresslyn camp, and there were no other
+Tresslyns there. She sat with the Wintermills, and&mdash;yes, he had to admit
+it,&mdash;she had winked at him slyly when she caught his eye early in the
+evening. It was a very small wink to be sure and was not repeated.</p>
+
+<p>The night was cold. His chauffeur was not to be found by the door-men
+who ran up and down the line from Fifth to Sixth Avenue for ten minutes
+before Simmy remembered that he had told the man not to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> come for him
+until three in the morning, an hour at which one might reasonably expect
+a dance to show signs of abating.</p>
+
+<p>He was on the point of ordering a taxi-cab when his attention was drawn
+to a figure that lurked well back in the shadows of the Berkeley Theatre
+down the street&mdash;a tall figure in a long ulster. Despite the darkness,
+Simmy's intense stare convinced him that it was George Tresslyn who
+stood over there and gazed from beneath lowered brows at the bright
+doorway. He experienced a chill that was not due to the raw west wind.
+There was something sinister about that big, motionless figure,
+something portentous of disaster. He knew that George had been going
+down the hill with startling rapidity. On more than one occasion he had
+tried to stay this downward rush, but without avail. Young Tresslyn was
+drinking, but he was not carousing. He drank as unhappy men drink, not
+as the happy ones do. He drank alone.</p>
+
+<p>For a few minutes Simmy watched this dark sentinel, and reflected. What
+was he doing over there? What was he up to? Was he waiting for Lutie to
+come forth from the fortified place? Was there murder and self-murder in
+the heart of this unhappy boy? Simmy was a little man but he was no
+coward. He did not hesitate long. He would have to act, and act
+promptly. He did not dare go away while that menacing figure remained on
+guard. The police, no doubt, would drive him away in time, but he would
+come back again. So Simmy Dodge squared his shoulders and marched across
+the street, to face what might turn out to be a ruthless lunatic&mdash;the
+kind one reads about, who kill their best friends, "and all that sort of
+thing."</p>
+
+<p>It was quite apparent that the watcher had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> observing him. As Simmy
+came briskly across the street, Tresslyn moved out of his position near
+the awning and started westward, his shoulders hunched upward and his
+chin lowered with the evident desire to prevent recognition. Simmy
+called out to him. The other quickened his steps. He slouched but did
+not stagger, a circumstance which caused Simmy a sharp twinge of
+uneasiness. He was not intoxicated. Simmy's good sense told him that he
+would be more dangerous sober than drunk, but he did not falter. At the
+second shout, young Tresslyn stopped. His hands were thrust deep into
+his overcoat pockets.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want?" he demanded thickly, as the dapper little man came
+up and extended his hand. Simmy was beaming, as if he suddenly had found
+a long lost friend and comrade. George took no notice of the friendly
+hand. He was staring hard, almost savagely at the other's face. Simmy
+was surprised to find that his cheeks, though sunken and haggard, were
+cleanly shaved, and his general appearance far from unprepossessing. In
+the light from a near-by window, the face was lowering but not inflamed;
+the eyes were heavy and tired-looking&mdash;but not bloodshot.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I recognised you," said Simmy glibly.</p>
+
+<p>"Much obliged," said George, without the semblance of a smile.</p>
+
+<p>Simmy hesitated. Then he laid his hand on George's arm. "See here,
+George, this will not do. I think I know why you are here, and&mdash;it won't
+do, old chap."</p>
+
+<p>"If you were anybody else, Dodge, I'd beat your head off," said George
+slowly, as if amazed that he had not already done so. "Better go away,
+Simmy, and let me alone. I'm all right. I'm not doing any harm, am I,
+standing out here?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What do you gain by standing here in the cold and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind what I gain. That's my affair," said George, his voice
+shaking in spite of its forced gruffness.</p>
+
+<p>Simmy was undaunted. "Have you been drinking to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"None of your damned business. What do you mean by&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am your friend, George," broke in Simmy earnestly. "I can see now
+that you've had a drink or two, and you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm as sober as you are!"</p>
+
+<p>"More so, I fear. I've had champagne. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not drunk all of the time, you know," snarled George.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm glad to hear it," said Simmy cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"I hate the stuff,&mdash;hate it worse than anything on earth except being
+sober. Good night, Simmy," he broke off abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"That dance in there won't be over before three o'clock," said Simmy
+shrewdly. "You're in for a long wait, my lad."</p>
+
+<p>George groaned. "Good Lord, is it&mdash;is it a dance? The papers said it was
+a dinner for Lord and Lady&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Better come along with me, George," interrupted Simmy quietly. "I'm
+going down to Anne's. She has sent for me. It's the end, I fancy. That's
+where you ought to be to-night, Tresslyn. She needs you. Come&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Young Tresslyn drew back, a look of horror in his eyes. "Not if I know
+myself," he muttered. "You'll never get me inside that house again.
+Why,&mdash;why,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> it's more than I could stand, Simmy. That old man
+tried&mdash;but, never mind. I can't talk about it. There's one thing sure,
+though: I wouldn't go near him again for all the money in New York,&mdash;not
+I."</p>
+
+<p>"I sha'n't insist, of course. But I do insist on your getting away from
+here. You are not to annoy Lutie. She's had trouble enough and you ought
+to be man enough to let her alone."</p>
+
+<p>George stared at him as if he had not heard aright. "Annoy her? What the
+devil are you talking about?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know what I'm talking about. Oh, don't glare at me like that. I'm
+not afraid of you, big as you are. I'm trying to put sense into your
+head, that's all, and you'll thank me for it later on, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I&mdash;I wouldn't annoy her for all the world, Simmy," said George,
+jerkily. "What do you take me for? What kind of a&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Then, why are you here?" demanded Simmy "It looks bad, George. If it
+isn't Lutie, who is it you're after?"</p>
+
+<p>The other appeared to be dazed. "I'm not after any one," he mumbled.
+Suddenly he gripped Simmy by the shoulders and bent a white, scowling
+face down to the little man's level. "My God, Simmy, I&mdash;I can't help it.
+That's all there is to it. I just want to see her&mdash;just want to look at
+her. Can't you understand? But of course you can't. You couldn't know
+what it means to love a girl as I love her. It isn't in you. Annoy her?
+I'd cut my heart out first. What business is it of yours if I choose to
+stand out here all night just for a glimpse of her in all her happiness,
+all her triumph, all that she's got because she deserves it? Oh, I'm
+sober enough, so don't think it's that. Now, you let me alone. Get out
+of this, Simmy. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> know what I'm doing and I don't want any advice from
+you. She won't know I'm over here when she comes out of that place, and
+what she doesn't know isn't going to bother her. She doesn't know that I
+sneak around like this to get a look at her whenever it's possible, and
+I don't want her to know it. It would worry her. It might&mdash;frighten her,
+Simmy, and God knows I wouldn't harm her by word or deed for anything on
+earth. Only she wouldn't understand. D'you see?" He shook Simmy as a dog
+would have shaken a rat, not in anger but to emphasise his seriousness.</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, George,&mdash;I'd like to believe that of you," chattered Simmy.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you can believe it. I'm not ashamed to confess what I'm doing.
+You may call me a baby, a fool, a crank or whatever you like,&mdash;I don't
+care. I've just got to see her, and this is the only way. Do you think
+I'd spoil things for her, now that she's made good? Think I'd butt in
+and queer it all? I'm no good, I'm a rotter, and I'm going to the devil
+as fast as I know how, Simmy. That's my affair, too. But I'm not mean
+enough to begrudge her the happiness she's found in spite of all us
+damned Tresslyns. Now, run along, Simmy, and don't worry about anything
+happening to her,&mdash;at least, so far as I'm concerned. She'll probably
+have her work cut out defending herself against some of her fine
+gentlemen, some of the respectable rotters in there. But she'll manage
+all right. She's the right sort, and she's had her lesson already. She
+won't be fooled again."</p>
+
+<p>Simmy's amazement had given way to concern. "Upon my word, George, I'm
+sorry for you. I had no idea that you felt as you do. It's too darned
+bad. I wish it could have been different with you two."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It could have been, as I've said before, if I'd had the back-bone of a
+caterpillar."</p>
+
+<p>"If you still love her as deeply as all this, why&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Love her? Why, if she were to come out here this instant and smile on
+me, Simmy, I'd&mdash;I'd&mdash;God, I don't know what I'd do!" He drooped his head
+dejectedly, and Simmy saw that he was shaking.</p>
+
+<p>"It's too bad," said Simmy again, blinking. For a long time the two of
+them stood there, side by side, looking at the bright doorway across the
+street. Simmy was thinking hard. "See here, old fellow," he said at
+last, profoundly moved, "why don't you buck up and try to make something
+of yourself? It isn't too late. Do something that will make her proud of
+you. Do&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Proud of me, eh?" sneered George. "The only thing I could do would be
+to jump into the river with my hands tied. She'd be proud of me for
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense. Now listen to me. You don't want her to know that you've been
+put in jail, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"What am I doing that would get me into jail?"</p>
+
+<p>"Loitering. Loafing suspiciously. Drinking. A lot of things, my boy.
+They'll nab you if you hang around here till three o'clock. You saw her
+go in, didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. She&mdash;she happened to turn her face this way when she got to the
+top of the steps. Saying something to the people she was with. God,
+I&mdash;she's the loveliest thing in&mdash;" He stopped short, and put his hand to
+his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Simmy's grip tightened on George's arm, and then for five minutes he
+argued almost desperately with the younger man. In the end, Tresslyn
+agreed to go home. He would not go to Anne's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And you'll not touch another drop to-night?" said Dodge, as they
+crossed over to the line of taxi-cabs.</p>
+
+<p>George halted. "Say, what's on your mind, Simmy? Are you afraid I'll go
+off my nut and create a scene,&mdash;perhaps mop up the sidewalk with some
+one like Percy Wintermill or&mdash;well, any one of those nuts in there? That
+the idea you've got? Well, let me set you right, my boy. If I ever do
+anything like that it will not be with Lutie as the excuse. I'll not
+drag her name into it. Mind you, I'm not saying I'll never smash some
+one's head, but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't mean that, at all," said Simmy.</p>
+
+<p>"And you needn't preach temperance to me," went on George. "I know that
+liquor isn't good for me. I hate the stuff, as a matter of fact. I know
+what it does to a man who has been an athlete. It gets him quicker than
+it gets any one else. But the liquor makes me forget that I'm no good.
+It makes me think I'm the biggest, bravest and best man in the world,
+and God knows I'm not. When I get enough of the stuff inside of me, I
+imagine that I'm good enough for Lutie. It's the only joy I have, this
+thinking that I'm as decent as anybody, and the only time I think I'm
+decent is when I'm so damned drunk that I don't know anything at all.
+Tell him to take me to Meikelham's hotel. Good night. You're all right,
+Simmy."</p>
+
+<p>"To Meikelham's? I want you to go home, George."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's home for me at present. Rotten place, believe me, but it's
+the best I can get for a dollar a day," grated George.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were living with your mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Kicked out. That was six weeks ago. Couldn't stand seeing me
+around. I don't blame her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> either. But that's none of your business,
+Simmy, so don't say another word."</p>
+
+<p>"It's pretty rough, that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"On me&mdash;or her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Both of you," said Simmy sharply. "I say, come over and see me
+to-morrow afternoon, George,&mdash;at three o'clock. Sober, if you don't
+mind. I've got something to say to you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No use, Simmy," sighed George.</p>
+
+<p>"You are fond of Anne, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. What's that got to do with it?"</p>
+
+<p>"She may need you soon. You must be ready, that's all. See what I mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Moral support, eh?" scoffed George.</p>
+
+<p>"You are her brother."</p>
+
+<p>"Right you are," said the other soberly. "I'll be on hand, Simmy, if I'm
+needed. Tell Anne, will you? I'll stick it out for a few days if it will
+help her."</p>
+
+<p>"There is a lot of good in you, George," said Simmy, engagingly. "I
+don't mind telling you that Lutie says the same thing about you. She has
+said to me more than once that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't lie to me!" snarled young Tresslyn, but Simmy did not fail to
+note the quickening of interest in his sullen eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"More than once," he went on, following up the advantage, "she has
+expressed the opinion that with half a chance you would have been more
+than half a man."</p>
+
+<p>"'Gad," said George, wonderingly, "I&mdash;I can almost believe you now.
+That's just the way she would have put it. God knows, Simmy, you are not
+smart enough to have said it out of your own head. She really thinks
+that, does she?"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll talk it over to-morrow," said the other, quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> well pleased with
+himself. Young Tresslyn was breathing heavily, as if his great lungs had
+expanded beyond their normal capacity. "Move along now."</p>
+
+<p>"If I thought&mdash;" began George, but Simmy had slammed the door and was
+directing the chauffeur where to take his fare.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later, Mrs. Fenwick's tables were deserted and the dance
+was on. Simmy Dodge, awaiting the moment of dispersion, lost no time in
+seeking Lutie. He had delayed his departure for Anne's home, and had
+been chafing through a long half-hour in the lounge downstairs. She was
+dancing with Percy Wintermill.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Dodge," said that young man, halting abruptly and somewhat
+aggressively when Simmy, without apology, clutched his arm as they swung
+by; "thought you'd gone. What d'you come back for?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't gone, so I couldn't come back," answered Simmy easily. "I
+want a word or two with Mrs. Tresslyn, old boy, so beat it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I say, you've got a lot of cheek&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Come along, Mrs. Tresslyn; don't mind Percy. <i>This</i> is important." With
+Lutie at his side, he made his way through the crowd about the door and
+led her, wondering and not a little disturbed, into one of the
+ante-rooms, where he found a couple of chairs.</p>
+
+<p>She listened to his account of the meeting with her former husband, her
+eyes fixed steadily on his homely little face. There was alarm at first
+in those merry eyes of hers, but his first words were reassuring. He
+convinced her that George was not bent on any act of violence, nor did
+he intend to annoy or distress her by a public encounter.</p>
+
+<p>"As a matter of fact," he said, "he's gone off to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> bed, and I am quite
+certain that he will not change his mind. I waited here to tell you
+about him, Lutie, because I felt you ought to be prepared in case he
+does come back and you happen to see him skulking around in&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"This isn't news to me, Simmy," she said seriously. "A half dozen times
+in the past two weeks I have caught sight of him, always in some
+convenient spot where he could watch me without much prospect of being
+seen. He seems to possess an uncanny knowledge of my comings and goings.
+I never see him in the daytime. I felt sure that he would be outside
+this place to-night, so when I came in I made it a point to look up and
+down the street,&mdash;casually, of course. There was a man across the
+street. I couldn't be sure, but I thought it was George. It has been
+getting on my nerves, Simmy." Her hand shook slightly, but what he had
+taken for alarm was gone from her eyes. Instead they were shining
+brightly, and her lips remained parted after she had finished speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"Needn't have any fear of him," said he. "George is a gentleman. He
+still worships you, Lutie,&mdash;poor devil. He'll probably drink himself to
+death because of it, too. Of course you know that he is completely down
+and out? Little more than a common bum and street loafer."</p>
+
+<p>"He&mdash;he doesn't like whiskey," said she, after a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"One doesn't have to like it to drink it, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"He could stop it if he tried."</p>
+
+<p>"Like a flash. But he isn't going to try. At least, not until he feels
+that it's worth while."</p>
+
+<p>She looked up quickly. "What do you mean by that?" Without waiting for
+him to answer, she went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> on: "How can you expect me to do anything to
+help him? I am sorry for him, but&mdash;but, heavens and earth, Simmy, I
+can't preach temperance to a man who kicked me out of his house when he
+was sober, can I?"</p>
+
+<p>"You loved him, didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>She flushed deeply. "I&mdash;I&mdash;oh, certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"Never have quite got over loving him, as a matter of fact," said he,
+watching her closely.</p>
+
+<p>She drew a long breath. "You're right, Simmy. I've never ceased to care
+for him. That's what makes it so hard for me to see him going to the
+dogs, as you say."</p>
+
+<p>"I said 'going to the devil,'" corrected Simmy resolutely.</p>
+
+<p>She laid her hand upon his arm. Her face was white now and her eyes were
+dark with pain.</p>
+
+<p>"I shiver when I think of him, Simmy, but not with dread or revulsion. I
+am always thinking of the days when he held me tight in those big,
+strong arms of his,&mdash;and that's what makes me shiver. I adored being in
+his arms. I shall never forget. People said that he would never amount
+to anything. They said that he was too strong to work and all that sort
+of thing. He didn't think much of himself, but I <i>know</i> he would have
+come through all right. He is the best of his breed, I can tell you
+that. Think how young he was when we were married! Little more than a
+boy. He has never had a chance to be a man. He is still a boy, puzzled
+and unhappy because he can't think of himself as anything but
+twenty,&mdash;the year when everything stopped for him. He's twenty-five now,
+but he doesn't know it. He is still living in his twenty-first year."</p>
+
+<p>"I've never thought of it in that light," said Simmy, considerably
+impressed. "I say, Lutie, if you care<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> so much for him, why not&mdash;" He
+stopped in some confusion. Clearly he had been on the point of
+trespassing on dangerous ground. He wiped his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"I can finish it for you, Simmy, by answering the question," she said,
+with a queer little smile. "I want to help him,&mdash;oh, you don't know how
+my heart aches for him!&mdash;but what can I do? I am his wife in the sight
+of God, but that is as far as it goes. The law says that I am a free
+woman and George a free man. But don't you see how it is? The law cannot
+say that we shall not love each other. Now can it? It can only say that
+we are free to love some one else if we feel so inclined without being
+the least bit troubled by our marriage vows. But George and I are still
+married to each other, and we are still thinking of our marriage vows.
+The simple fact that we love each other proves a whole lot, now doesn't
+it, Simmy? We are divorced right enough,&mdash;South Dakota says so,&mdash;but we
+refuse to think of ourselves as anything but husband and wife, lover and
+sweetheart. Down in our hearts we loved each other more on the day the
+divorce was granted than ever before, and we've never stopped loving. I
+have not spoken a word to George in nearly three years&mdash;but I know that
+he has loved me every minute of the time. Naturally he does not think
+that I love him. He thinks that I despise him. But I don't despise him,
+Simmy. If he had followed his teachings he would now be married to some
+one else&mdash;some one of his mother's choosing&mdash;and I should be loathing
+him instead of feeling sorry for him. That would have convinced me that
+he was the rotter the world said he was when he turned against me. I
+tell you, Simmy, it is gratifying to know that the man you love is
+drinking himself to death because he's true to you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That's an extraordinary thing to say," said Simmy, squinting. "You are
+happy because that poor devil is&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now don't say that!" she cried. "I didn't say I was happy. I said I was
+gratified&mdash;because he is true to me in spite of everything. I suppose
+it's more than you can grasp, Simmy,&mdash;you dear old simpleton." Her eyes
+were shining very brightly, and her cheeks were warm and rosy. "You see,
+it's my husband who is being true to me. Every wife likes to have that
+thing proved to her."</p>
+
+<p>"Quixotic," said Simmy. "He isn't your husband, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, he is," said Lutie earnestly. "Just as much as he ever was."</p>
+
+<p>"The law says he is not."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you trying to get me to say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I may as well come to the point. Would you marry him again if he were
+to come to you,&mdash;now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean, would I live with him again?"</p>
+
+<p>"You couldn't do that without marrying him, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"I am already married to him in the sight of God," said she, stubbornly.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord! Would you go back to him without a ceremony of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If I made up my mind to live with him, yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see. And may I inquire just what your state of mind would be if
+he came to you to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have got me cornered, Simmy," she said, her lip trembling. There
+was a hunted look in her eyes. "I&mdash;I don't know what I should do. I want
+him, Simmy,&mdash;I want my man, my husband, but to be perfectly honest with
+you, I don't believe he has sunk low<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> enough yet for me to claim the
+complete victory I desire."</p>
+
+<p>"Victory?" gasped Simmy. "Do you want to pick him out of the gutter? Is
+that your idea of triumph over the Tresslyns? Are you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"When the time comes, Simmy," said she cryptically, "I will hold out my
+hand to him, and then we'll have a <i>real</i> man before you can say Jack
+Robinson. He will come up like a cork, and he'll be so happy that he'll
+stay up forever."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be too sure of that. I've seen better men than George stay down
+forever."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but George doesn't want to stay down. He wants me. That's all he
+wants in this world."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you imagine that he will come to you, crawling on his knees, to
+plead for forgiveness or&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"By no means! He'd never sink so low as that. That's why I tell you that
+he is a man, a real man. There isn't one in a thousand who wouldn't be
+begging, and whining, and even threatening the woman if he were in
+George's position. That's why I'm so sure."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you expect?"</p>
+
+<p>"When his face grows a little thinner, and the Tresslyn in him is
+drowned, I expect to ask him to come and see me," she said slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord!" muttered Simmy.</p>
+
+<p>She sprang to her feet, her face glowing. "And I don't believe I can
+stand seeing it grow much thinner," she cried. "He looks starved, Simmy.
+I can't put it off much longer. Now I must go back. Thank you for the
+warning. You don't understand him, but&mdash;thank you, just the same. I
+never miss seeing him when he thinks he is perfectly invisible. You see,
+Simmy, I too have eyes."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>The next afternoon but one Templeton Thorpe was on the operating table.
+In a private sitting-room on the third floor of the great hospital,
+three people sat waiting for the result&mdash;two women and a man. They were
+the Tresslyns, mother, son and daughter. There were unopened boxes of
+flowers on the table in the middle of the room. The senders of these
+flowers were men, and their cards were inside the covers, damp with the
+waters of preservation. They were for Anne Thorpe, and they were from
+men who looked ahead even as she had looked ahead. But the roses and
+orchids they sent were never to be seen by Anne Thorpe. They were left
+in the boxes with their little white envelopes attached, for Anne was
+not thinking of roses as she sat there by the window, looking down into
+the street, waiting for the word from upstairs,&mdash;the inevitable word.
+Later on the free wards would be filled with the fragrance of American
+Beauties, and certain smug gentlemen would never be thanked. No one had
+sent flowers to Templeton Thorpe, the sick man.</p>
+
+<p>There had been a brief conference on the day before between Anne and
+Braden. The latter went to her with the word that he was to operate,
+provided she offered no objection.</p>
+
+<p>"You know what an operation will mean, Anne," he said steadily.</p>
+
+<p>"The end to his agony," she remarked. Outwardly she was calm, inwardly
+she shivered.</p>
+
+<p>"It is absurd to say that he has one chance in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> million to pull
+through. He hasn't a single chance. I appreciate that fact and&mdash;so does
+he."</p>
+
+<p>"You are willing to do this thing, Braden?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am willing," he said. His face was like death.</p>
+
+<p>"And if I should object, what then?" she asked, almost inaudibly.</p>
+
+<p>"I should refuse to operate. I cannot pretend that an operation is the
+only means left to save his life. It is just the other way round. We are
+supposed to take extreme measures in extreme cases, but always with the
+idea of prolonging human life. In this instance, I am bound to tell you,
+that I don't believe there is a chance to save him. We must look the
+matter squarely in the face."</p>
+
+<p>"You said that there was absolutely no chance." She leaned heavily
+against the table.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe there is no chance, but I am not all-seeing, Anne. We never
+know,&mdash;absolutely. Miracles happen. They are not performed by man,
+however."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you spoken to Dr. Bates?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He is coming to the hospital, to&mdash;to be with me."</p>
+
+<p>"He will not attempt to prevent the operation?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He does not advise or sanction it, but he&mdash;understands."</p>
+
+<p>"And you will be held responsible for everything?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so," said he bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>She was silent for a long time. "I think I shall object to the
+operation, Braden," she said at last.</p>
+
+<p>"For my sake and not for his, I take it," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I may as well give him the tablets myself, as to consent to your method
+of&mdash;of&mdash;" She could not finish the sentence.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't quite the same," he said. "I act with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> the authority of the
+law behind me. You would be violating the law."</p>
+
+<p>"Still you would be killing a fellow creature," she protested. "I&mdash;I
+cannot allow you to sacrifice yourself, Braden."</p>
+
+<p>"You forget that I have no false notions as to the question of right and
+wrong in cases of this kind. I assure you that if I undertake this
+operation it will be with a single purpose in mind: to save and prolong
+the life of my patient. The worst you can say of me is that I am
+convinced beforehand that I shall fail. If I were to act upon the
+principles I advocate, I should not feel obliged to go through the
+travesty of an operation. The time may come when cases of this sort will
+be laid before a commission, and if in their judgment it is deemed
+humane to do so, a drug will be administered and the horrors that are
+likely to attend my efforts of to-morrow will be impossible. There is no
+such law to sustain me now, no commission, no decision by experts and
+familiars to back me up, so I can only obey the commands of the patient
+himself,&mdash;and do the best I can for him. He insists on having the
+operation performed&mdash;and by me. I am one of the family. I am his only
+blood relative. It is meet and just, says he, that I should be the one,
+and not some disinterested, callous outsider. That is the way he puts
+it, and I have not denied him."</p>
+
+<p>"It is horrible," she moaned, shuddering. "Why do you ask me to consent?
+Why do you put it up to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"You now place me in the position of the surgeon who advises a prompt&mdash;I
+mean, who says that an operation is imperative."</p>
+
+<p>"But that isn't the truth. You do not advise it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He drew a long breath. "Yes, I do advise it. There is no other way. I
+shall try to save him. I <i>do</i> advise it."</p>
+
+<p>She left him and went over to the fireplace, where she stood with her
+back toward him for many minutes, staring into the coals. He did not
+change his position. He did not even look at her. His eyes were fixed on
+the rug near the closed door. There was a warm, soft red in that rare
+old carpet. Finally she turned to him.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not let you take all of the responsibility, Braden," she said.
+"It isn't fair. I shall not oppose you. You have my consent to go on
+with it."</p>
+
+<p>"I assume all responsibility," he said, abruptly, almost gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"You are wrong there, Braden," she said, slowly. "My husband assumes the
+responsibility. It is his act, not yours. I shall always regard it in
+that light, no matter what may happen. It is his command."</p>
+
+<p>He tried to smile. "Perhaps that is the right way to look at it," he
+said, "but it is a poor way, after all." For a full minute they stood
+looking into each other's eyes. "Then I shall go ahead with
+the&mdash;arrangements," he said, compressing his lips.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Before I go any farther, Anne, I want to tell you what happened this
+morning when his lawyer was here. I sent for him. There is a clause in
+my grandfather's will bequeathing to me the sum of one hundred thousand
+dollars. I insisted that a codicil be added to the instrument, revoking
+that clause. My grandfather was obstinate at first. Finally he agreed to
+discuss the matter privately with Judge Hollenback. A couple of hours
+ago Wade and Murray witnessed the codicil which deprives me of any
+interest in my grandfather's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> estate. I renounce everything. There will
+be no contest on my part. Not a penny is to come to me."</p>
+
+<p>She stared at him. "You refuse to take what rightfully belongs to you?
+Now that <i>is</i> quixotic, Braden. You shall not&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The matter is closed, Anne. We need not discuss it," he said firmly. "I
+had to tell you, that's all. The reason should be obvious. You know, of
+course, that the bulk of his estate, apart from the amount to be paid to
+you&mdash;" She winced perceptibly&mdash;"aside from that amount is to go to
+various charities and institutions devoted to the betterment of the
+human race. I need not add that these institutions are of a scientific
+character. I wanted you to know beforehand that I shall profit in no way
+by the death of my grandfather." After a significant pause he repeated
+distinctly: "I shall profit <i>in no way</i>."</p>
+
+<p>She lowered her eyes for an instant. "I think I understand, Braden," she
+said, looking up to meet his gaze unwaveringly. Her voice was low, even
+husky. She saw finality in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"He seemed to feel that I ought to know of the clause I mention,"
+explained Braden dully. "Perhaps he thought it would&mdash;it might be an
+inducement to me to&mdash;to go ahead. God! What a thought!"</p>
+
+<p>"He allowed you to read it?"</p>
+
+<p>"A copy, last night. The real instrument was produced to-day by Judge
+Hollenback at my request, and the change was made in the presence of
+witnesses."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is it now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Judge Hollenback took it away with him. That's all I know about it."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," she said, a queer glint in her eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> "Sorry he took it
+away with him, I mean. There is nothing I can do&mdash;now."</p>
+
+<p>She sent for her mother that night. The next morning Simmy Dodge came
+down with George Tresslyn, who steadfastly refused to enter the house
+but rode to the hospital with his mother and sister in Simmy's
+automobile. Anne did not see Braden again after that momentous interview
+in the library. He had effaced himself.</p>
+
+<p>Now she sat in the window looking down into the street, dull and
+listless and filled with the dread of the future that had once looked so
+engaging to her. The picture that avarice and greed had painted was
+gone. In its place was an honest bit of colour on the canvas,&mdash;a drab
+colour and noteless.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn, unmoved and apparently disinterested, ran idly through
+the pages of an illustrated periodical. Her furs lay across a chair in
+the corner of the room. They were of chinchilla and expressed a certain
+arrogance that could not be detached by space from the stately figure
+with the lorgnon. The year had done little toward bending that proud
+head. The cold, classic beauty of this youngish mother of the other
+occupants of the room was as yet absolutely unmarred by the worries that
+come with disillusionment. If she felt rebellious scorn for the tall
+disappointment who still bore and always would bear the honoured name of
+Tresslyn she gave no sign: if the slightest resentment existed in her
+soul toward the daughter who was no longer as wax in her hands, she hid
+the fact securely behind a splendid mask of unconcern. As for the old
+man upstairs she had but a single thought: an insistent one it was,
+however, and based itself upon her own dread of the thing that was
+killing him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>George Tresslyn, white-faced and awed, sat like a graven image, looking
+at the floor. He was not there because he wanted to be, but because a
+rather praiseworthy allegiance to Anne had mastered his repugnance.
+Somewhere in his benumbed intelligence flickered a spark of light which
+revealed to him his responsibility as the head of the family. Anne was
+his sister. She was lovely. He would have liked to be proud of her. If
+it were not for the millions of that old man upstairs he could have been
+proud of her, and by an odd reasoning, even more ashamed of himself than
+he was now. He was not thinking of the Thorpe millions, however, as he
+sat there brooding; he was not wondering what Anne would do for him when
+she had her pay in hand. He was dumbly praising himself for having
+refused to sell his soul to Templeton Thorpe in exchange for the fifty
+thousand dollars with which the old man had baited him on three separate
+occasions, and wishing that Lutie could know. It was something that she
+would have to approve of in him! It was rather pitiful that he should
+have found a grain of comfort in the fact that he had refused to kill a
+fellow man!</p>
+
+<p>Anne took several turns up and down the room. There was a fine line
+between her dark, brooding eyes, and her nostrils were distended as if
+breathing had become difficult for her.</p>
+
+<p>"I told him once that if such a thing ever happened to me, I'd put an
+end to myself just as soon as I knew," she said, addressing no one, but
+speaking with a distinctness that was startling. "I told him that one
+would be justified in taking one's life under such circumstances. Why
+should one go on suffering&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What are you saying, Anne?" broke in her mother sharply. George looked
+up, astonishment struggling to make its way through the dull cloud on
+his face.</p>
+
+<p>Anne stopped short. For a moment she appeared to be dazed. She went
+paler than before, and swayed. Her brother started up from his chair,
+alarmed.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Anne old girl, get hold of yourself!" he exclaimed. "None of
+that, you know. You mustn't go fainting or anything like that. Walk
+around with me for a couple of minutes. You'll be all right in&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm not going to faint," she cried, but grasped his arm just the
+same.</p>
+
+<p>"They always walked us around on the football field when we got woozy&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Go</span> out and see if you can find out anything, George," said she, pulling
+herself together. "Surely it must be over by this time."</p>
+
+<p>"Simmy's on the lookout," said George. "He'll let us know."</p>
+
+<p>"Be patient, my dear," said Mrs. Tresslyn, wiping a fine moisture from
+her upper lip, where it had appeared with Anne's astounding observation.
+"You will not have to wait much longer. Be&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Anne faced her, an unmistakable sneer on her lips. "I'm used to
+waiting," she said huskily.</p>
+
+<p>"She has waited a year and more," said George aggressively, glowering at
+his mother. It was a significant but singularly unhappy remark.</p>
+
+<p>For the first time in their lives, they saw their mother in tears. It
+was so incomprehensible that at first both Anne and her brother laughed,
+not in mirth, but because they were so stupefied that they did not know
+what they were doing, and laughter was the simplest means of expressing
+an acute sense of embarrassment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> Then they stood aloof and watched the
+amazing exposition, fascinated, unbelieving. It did not occur to either
+of them to go to the side of this sobbing woman whose eyes had always
+been dry and cold, this mother who had wiped away their tears a hundred
+times and more with dainty lace handkerchiefs not unlike the one she now
+pressed so tightly to her own wet cheeks. They could not understand this
+thing happening to her. They could not believe that after all their
+mother possessed the power to shed tears, to sob as other women do, to
+choke and snivel softly, to blubber inelegantly; they had always looked
+upon her as proof against emotion. Their mother was crying! Her back was
+toward them, evidence of a new weakness in her armour. It shook with the
+effort she made to control the cowardly spasmodic sobs. And why was she
+in tears? What had brought this amazing thing to pass? What right had
+she to cry?</p>
+
+<p>They watched her stupidly as she walked away from them toward the
+window. They were not unfeeling; they simply did not know how to act in
+the face of this marvel. They looked at each other in bewilderment. What
+had happened? Only the moment before she had been as cold and as
+magnificently composed as ever she had been, and now! Now she was like
+other people. She had come down to the level of the utterly commonplace.
+She was just a plain, ordinary woman. It was unbelievable.</p>
+
+<p>They did not feel sorry for her. A second time, no doubt, would find
+them humanly sympathetic, troubled, distressed, but this first time they
+could only wonder, they could only doubt their senses. It would have
+been most offensive in them to have let her see they noticed anything
+unusual in her behaviour. At least<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> that is the way they felt about it
+in their failure to understand.</p>
+
+<p>For five minutes Mrs. Tresslyn stood with her back to them. Gradually
+the illy-stifled sobs subsided and, as they still looked on curiously,
+the convulsive heaving of her shoulders grew less perceptible, finally
+ceasing altogether. Her tall figure straightened to its full, regal
+height; her chin went up to its normal position; her wet handkerchief
+was stuffed, with dignified deliberateness, into the gold mesh bag. A
+minute more to prove that she had completely mastered her emotions, and
+then she faced her children. It was as if nothing had happened. She was
+the calm and imperious mother they had always known. Involuntarily, Anne
+uttered a deep sigh of relief. George blinked his eyes and also fell to
+wondering if they had served him honestly, or if, on the other hand, he
+too had merely imagined something incredible.</p>
+
+<p>They did not question her. The incident was closed. They were never to
+ask her why she had wept in their presence. They were never to know what
+had moved her to tears. Instinctively and quite naturally they shrank
+from the closer intimacy that such a course would involve. Their mother
+was herself once more. She was no longer like other women. They could
+not be in touch with her. And so they were never to know why she had
+cried. They only knew that for a brief space she had been as silly as
+any ordinary mortal could be, and they were rather glad to have caught
+her at it.</p>
+
+<p>Years afterward, however, George was to say to Anne: "Queer thing,
+wasn't it, that time she cried? Do you remember?" And Anne was to reply:
+"I've never forgotten it. It <i>was</i> queer."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Nor did Mrs. Tresslyn offer the slightest explanation for her conduct.
+She did not even smile shamefacedly, as any one else certainly would
+have done in apology. She was, however, vaguely pleased with her
+children. They had behaved splendidly. They were made of the right
+stuff, after all! She had not been humbled.</p>
+
+<p>Apathy was restored. George slumped down in his chair and set his jaws
+hard. Mrs. Tresslyn glanced idly through the pages of a magazine, while
+Anne, taking up her position once more at the window, allowed her
+thoughts to slip back into the inevitable groove. They were not centred
+upon Templeton Thorpe as an object of pity but as a subject for
+speculation: she was thinking of the thing that Braden was doing, and of
+his part in this life and death affair. She was trying to picture him up
+there in that glaring little room cutting the life out of a fellow
+creature under the very eyes of the world.</p>
+
+<p>The door was opened swiftly but softly. Simmy Dodge, white as a sheet,
+came into the room.... Mrs. Tresslyn went over to the window, where Anne
+was sitting, white and dry-eyed.</p>
+
+<p>"It is no more than we expected, dear," said she quietly. "He had no
+chance. You were prepared. It is all over. You ought to be thankful that
+his sufferings are over. He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Anne was not listening. She broke in with a question to Simmy.</p>
+
+<p>"What was it that you said happened while you were in the room? Before
+the ether, I mean. Tell me again,&mdash;and slowly."</p>
+
+<p>Simmy cleared his throat. It was very tight and dry. He was now afraid
+of death.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It was awfully affecting," he said, wiping the moisture from his brow.
+"Awfully. That young interne fellow told me about it. Just before they
+gave the ether, Mr. Thorpe shook hands with Brady. He was smiling. They
+all heard him say 'Good-bye, my boy,&mdash;and thank you.' And Brady leaned
+over and kissed him on the forehead. The chap couldn't quite hear, but
+says he thinks he whispered, 'Good-bye, granddaddy.' Awfully affecting
+scene&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"'Good-bye, granddaddy,'" Anne repeated, dully. Then she covered her
+eyes with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>Simmy fidgeted. He wanted to help, but felt oddly that he was very much
+out of place. George's big hand gripped his arm. At any other time he
+would have winced with pain, but now he had no thought for himself.
+Moreover, there was something wonderfully sustaining in the powerful
+hand that had been laid upon his.</p>
+
+<p>"She ought not to take it so hard, George," he began.</p>
+
+<p>"They told you he never came out of the an&aelig;sthetic," said George, in a
+half-whisper. "Just died&mdash;like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's what he said. Little chap with blond hair and nose-glasses. You
+remember seeing him&mdash;Yes, he told me. He was in there. Saw it all. Gosh,
+I don't see how they can do it. This fellow seemed to be very much
+upset, at that. He looked scared. I say, George, do you know what the
+pylorus is?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pylorus? No."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I knew. This fellow seemed to think that Brady made some sort of
+a mistake. He wouldn't say much, however. Some sort of a slip, I
+gathered. Something to do with the pylorus, I know. It must be a vital
+spot."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>The day after the funeral, George Tresslyn called to see his sister. He
+found that it required a new sort of courage on his part to enter the
+house, even after his hesitation about pressing the door-bell. He was
+not afraid of any living man, and yet he was oppressed by the uncanny
+fear that Templeton Thorpe was still alive and waiting somewhere in the
+dark old house, ready to impose further demands upon his cupidity. The
+young man was none too steady beforehand, and now he was actually
+shaking. When Murray opened the door, he was confronted by an extremely
+pallid visitor who shot a furtive look over his head and down the hall
+before inquiring whether Mrs. Thorpe was at home.</p>
+
+<p>"She is, Mr. George," said Murray. "You telephoned half an hour ago,
+sir."</p>
+
+<p>"So I did," said George nervously. He was not offended by Murray's
+obvious comment upon his unstable condition, for he knew&mdash;even though
+Murray did not&mdash;that no drop of liquor had passed his lips in four days.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Thorpe is expecting you."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she alone, Murray?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. Would you mind stepping inside, sir? It's a raw wind that is
+blowing. I think I must have taken a bit of a cold yesterday
+during&mdash;ahem! Thank you, sir. I will tell Mrs. Thorpe that you are
+here." Murray was rather testy. He had been imbibing.</p>
+
+<p>George shivered. "I say, Murray, would you mind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> giving me a drop of
+something to warm me up? I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The butler regarded him fixedly, even severely. "You have had quite
+enough already, sir," he said firmly, but politely.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come now! I haven't had a drink in God knows how long. I&mdash;but never
+mind! If that's the way you feel about it, I withdraw my request. Keep
+your darned old brandy. But let me tell you one thing, Murray; I don't
+like your impertinence. Just remember that, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, sir," said Murray, unoffended. He was seeing with a
+clearer vision. "You are ill. I mistook it for&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'm not ill. And I'll forgive you, too, Murray," he added
+impulsively. "I daresay you were justified. My fame has preceded me.
+Tell Mrs. Thorpe I'm here, will you? Run along; the decanter is quite
+safe."</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later he was ushered into Anne's sitting-room upstairs. He
+stopped short just inside the door, struck by the pallor, the
+haggardness of his sister's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I say, Anne!" he exclaimed. "You're not taking it so hard as all
+this, I hope. My Lord, girlie, you look&mdash;you look&mdash;why, you can't
+possibly feel like this about him. What the deuce are&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Close the door, George," she commanded. Her voice sounded hollow,
+lifeless to him. She was sitting bolt upright on the huge, comfortable
+couch in front of the grate fire. He had dreaded seeing her in black.
+She had worn it the day before. He remembered that she had worn more of
+it than seemed necessary to him. It had made her appear clumsy and
+over-fed. He was immensely relieved to find that she now wore a
+rose-coloured<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> pignoir, and that it was wrapped very closely about her
+slim, long figure, as if she were afflicted by the cold and was futilely
+trying to protect her shivering flesh. He shuffled across the room and
+sat down beside her. "I'm glad you came. It is&mdash;oh, it is horribly
+lonely here in this dreadful house. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hasn't mother been down to see you?" he demanded. "She ought to be
+here. You need her. Confound it, Anne, what sort of a woman is&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! She telephoned. I said that I preferred to be alone. But I'm glad
+you came, George." She laid her hand on his. "You are able to feel sorry
+for me. Mother isn't."</p>
+
+<p>"You're looking awfully seedy, Anne. I still say she ought to be here to
+look after you. It's her place."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm all right. Of course, I look like the dickens, but who wouldn't? It
+has been terrible. Weeks and weeks of it. You'll never know what&mdash;" She
+shuddered so violently that he threw his arm about her and drew her
+close.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's all over now, girlie. Brace up. Sunshine from now on. It was
+a bad day's work when you let yourself in for it, but that's all over
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it's all over," she said slowly. "Everything's all over." Her
+wide, sombre eyes fixed their gaze upon the rippling blue flames in the
+grate.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, smile a little. It's time some one of us Tresslyns had a chance
+to grin a little without bearing it."</p>
+
+<p>She raised her eyes and slowly inspected this big brother of hers.
+Seemingly she had not taken him in as a whole up to that moment of
+consideration. A slight frown appeared on her brow.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been hearing rather bad things about you, George," she said, after
+a moment. "Now that I look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> at you, you do look pretty shaky,&mdash;and
+pretty well threshed out. Is it true? Have you been as bad as they say?"</p>
+
+<p>He flushed. "Has Simmy Dodge been talking?"</p>
+
+<p>"Simmy is your friend, George," she said sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"It's always a fellow's friends who do the most talking," said he, "and
+that's what hurts. You don't mind what your enemies say."</p>
+
+<p>"Simmy has not mentioned your name to me in weeks."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't call that being friendly. He knows everything. He ought
+to have told you just how rotten I've been, because you could believe
+Simmy. You can't believe every one, Anne, but I know Simmy would give it
+to you straight. Yes, I've been all that could be expected. The only
+thing I haven't been is a liar."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you brace up, George? You are really the best of the lot, if you
+only knew it. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't drink because I like it, you know, Anne," he said earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>"I see," she said, nodding her head slowly. "You drink because it's the
+surest way to prove to Lutie that you are still in love with her. Isn't
+that it?" She spoke ironically.</p>
+
+<p>"When I think how much you would have liked Lutie if she'd had a chance
+to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't tell it to me, George," she interrupted. "I didn't in the least
+care whom you married. As a matter of fact, I think you married the
+right girl."</p>
+
+<p>"You do?" he cried eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But she didn't marry the right man. If you had been the right man
+and had been taken away from her as you were, she would have died of a
+broken heart long before this. Logic for you, isn't it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"She's got too much sense to die of a broken heart. And that isn't
+saying she wasn't in love with me, either."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well," she sighed, "it doesn't matter. She didn't die, she didn't
+go to the bad, she didn't put on a long face and weep her eyes out,&mdash;as
+I recall them they were exceedingly pretty eyes, which may account for
+her determination to spare them,&mdash;and she didn't do anything that a
+sensible woman would have done under the circumstances. A sensible woman
+would have set herself up as a martyr and bawled her eyes out. But
+Lutie, being an ignoramus, overlooked her opportunities, and now see
+where she is! I am told that she is exasperatingly virtuous, abstemious
+and exceedingly well-dressed, and all on an income derived from thirty
+thousand dollars that came out of the Tresslyn treasure chest. Almost
+incomprehensible, isn't it? Nothing sensible about Lutie, is there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you trying to be sarcastic, Anne?" demanded George, contriving to
+sit up a little straighter on the sofa. He was not in the habit of
+exerting himself in these days of unregeneration. Anne was always
+smarter than he; he never knew just how much smarter she was but he knew
+when to feel apprehensive.</p>
+
+<p>"You wanted to see me, George," she said abruptly. "What is it you want?
+Money?"</p>
+
+<p>He scowled. "I might have known you would ask that question. No, I don't
+want money. I could have had some of old man Thorpe's money a couple of
+weeks ago if I'd been mean enough to take it, and I'm not mean enough to
+take it now&mdash;from you. I want to talk to you about Braden Thorpe."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>For a moment or two Anne looked into his frowning eyes, and then she
+drew back into the corner of the couch, a queer shudder running through
+her body.</p>
+
+<p>"About Braden?" she asked, striving to make her voice sound firm and
+unstrained.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is he? Staying here in the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not. I don't know where he is. He has not been near me
+since&mdash;since the day before&mdash;" She spoke rapidly, jerkily, and did not
+deem it necessary to complete the sentence.</p>
+
+<p>George had the delicacy to hesitate. He even weighed, in that brief
+instant, the advisability of saying what he had come to say to her. Then
+a queer sense of duty, of brother to sister, took the place of doubt.
+She was his sister and she needed him now as never before, needed him
+now despite his self-admitted worthlessness.</p>
+
+<p>"See here, Anne, I'm going to speak plainly," he blurted out, leaning
+forward. "You must not see Brady Thorpe again. If he comes here, you
+must refuse to receive him."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were very dark and lustreless against the increased pallor of
+her cheeks. "He will not come here, George," she said, scarcely above a
+whisper. She moistened her lips. "It isn't necessary to&mdash;to warn me."</p>
+
+<p>"Mind you, I don't say a word against him," he made haste to explain.
+"It's what people will say that troubles me. Perhaps you don't know what
+they are going to say, Anne, but I do."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know what they will say," she muttered. She looked straight into
+his eyes. "They will say that he killed his grandfather&mdash;purposely."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't matter that they say he killed his grandfather, Anne," said
+he slowly, "so much as that he killed your husband. That's the point."</p>
+
+<p>"What have you heard, George?" she asked, in dread of his reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Barely enough to let me understand that where one man is talking now, a
+hundred will be talking next week. There was a young doctor up there in
+the operating room. He doesn't say it in so many words, but he suspects
+that it wasn't an accidental slip of the&mdash;don't look like that, Anne!
+Gee, you looked awfully scary just then." He wiped his brow. "I&mdash;I
+thought you were about to faint. I say, we'll drop the matter this
+instant if&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not going to faint," she exclaimed. "You need not be afraid. What
+is it that this young doctor says? And how do you happen to have
+heard&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's what he said to Simmy," interrupted George, quickly. "Simmy let it
+slip last night. I was in his apartment. Then I made him tell me the
+whole thing. He says it is certain that if this young fellow saw
+anything wrong, the others also did. And you know there were three
+pretty big surgeons there looking on. Bates and those other fellows, you
+remember. It&mdash;it looks bad, Anne. That's why I tell you that you must
+not see Brady again."</p>
+
+<p>"And what has all this to do with my not seeing Braden again?" she
+demanded steadily.</p>
+
+<p>He stared. "Why,&mdash;why, you just mustn't, that's all. Can't you
+understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that I ought not to be put in the position of sharing the
+blame with him. Is that it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if there should be a&mdash;er&mdash;criminal investigation, you'd be a
+blamed sight better off if you kept<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> out of it, my girl. And what's more
+to the point, you can't afford to have people say that you are
+determined to do the thing they believe you set out to do in the
+beginning,&mdash;and that is to marry Braden as soon as&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop right there, George!" she cried hotly. "Other people may say what
+they please, but the same privilege is not extended to you. Don't forget
+that you are my brother."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, Anne. I didn't mean it in that way. Of course, I know that
+it's all over between you and Brady. Just the same, I mean what I say
+when I advise you to see nothing of him. I've given you the hint, that's
+all."</p>
+
+<p>"And I am sorry I spoke as I did just now," she said listlessly.
+"Thanks, George. You are looking out for me, aren't you? I didn't expect
+it. Somehow, I've always felt that nobody cared whether I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll look out for you as long as I'm able to stand," said he, setting
+his jaw. "I wish you could love me, Anne. I think we'd be pretty good
+pals, after all, if we got to thinking more about each other and less
+about ourselves. Of course, I'm a down-and-outer and don't deserve much
+in the way of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't deserve sympathy," she interrupted, laying a firm hand upon
+his, "and I know you are not asking for it. Encouragement is what you
+need." Her voice shook slightly. "You want some one to love you. I
+understand. It's what we all want, I suppose. I'll try to be a real,
+true sister from now on, George. It&mdash;it will not be very hard for me to
+love you, I'm sure," she concluded, with a whimsical little smile that
+went straight to his sore, disfigured heart. A lump came into his throat
+and his eyes began to smart so suddenly that a mist came over them
+before he could blink<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> his lids. He was very young, was George Tresslyn,
+despite the things that go to make men old.</p>
+
+<p>"Gee!" he said, astonished by his own emotions. Then he gripped her
+slender, ringless hand in his huge palm,&mdash;and was further surprised to
+discover that she did not wince. "We're not acting like Tresslyns at
+all, Anne. We're acting just like regular people."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know that you are a very lucky person, George?" she said
+abruptly. He blinked. "You don't know it, but you are. I wish I had the
+same chance that you have."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you talking about?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I had the same chance to be happy that you have."</p>
+
+<p>"Happy? Good Lord, I'll never be happy without Lutie, and you know it,"
+he groaned.</p>
+
+<p>"That is just the chance you still have, Buddy. It isn't inconceivable
+that you may get Lutie back, while I&mdash;well, you know how it is with me.
+I'm done for, to put it plainly."</p>
+
+<p>"Lutie wouldn't wipe her feet on me," he said, struggling between hope
+and conviction. "I'd let her do it like a flash if she wanted to,
+but&mdash;Oh, what's the use! You and I have queered ourselves forever, you
+with Brady and I with Lutie. It's an infernal shame you didn't take
+Brady when you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we've queered ourselves," said she, struck by the phrase that fell
+from his lips. It was not Anne's habit to use slang, but somehow
+George's way of putting the situation into words was so aggravatingly
+complete that she almost resented his prior use of an expression that
+she had never used before in her life. It <i>did</i> sum up the business,
+neatly and compactly. Strange that she had never thought of that
+admirable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> word before! "And of the two of us, George, I am the worst
+offender. I went about my mistake deliberately. I suppose it is only
+right that I should pay the heavier price."</p>
+
+<p>"If I thought there was a chance to get Lutie back, I'd&mdash;" But there he
+stopped as he always stopped. He had never been able to end that
+sentence, and he had got just that far with it a million times or more.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you tried to get her back?" she demanded suddenly, a flash of
+interest in her eyes. It was to grow into genuine enthusiasm. The
+impulse at the back of her mind was to develop into an idea, later into
+a strong, definite purpose. It had for its foundation a hitherto
+unsuspected desire to do good.</p>
+
+<p>"Great Scot, no!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then <i>try</i>, George," she cried, a new thrill in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>He was bewildered. "Try what?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would stake my life on it, George, if you set about it in the right
+way you can win Lutie all over again. All you have to do is to let her
+see that you are a man, a real man. There's no reason in the world why
+she shouldn't remember what love really is, and that she once had it
+through you. There's a lot in love that doesn't come out in a couple of
+months and she has the sense to know that she was cheated out of it. If
+I am not greatly mistaken she is just like all other women. We don't
+stop loving before we get our fill of it, or until we've at least found
+out that it bores us to be loved by the man who starts the fire going.
+Now, Lutie must realise that she never got her full share. She wasn't
+through loving you. She had barely begun. It doesn't matter how badly a
+woman is treated, she goes on loving her man until some other man
+proves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> that she is wrong, and he cannot prove it to her until she has
+had all of the love that she can get out of the first man. That's why
+women stick to the men who beat them. Of course, this doesn't apply to
+unmoral women. You know the kind I mean. But it is true of all honest
+women, and Lutie appears to be more honest than we suspected. She had
+two or three months of you, George, and then came the crash. You can't
+tell me that she stopped wanting to be loved by you just as she was
+loving you the hardest. She may some day marry another man, but she will
+never forget that she had you for three months and that they were not
+enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Great Scot!" said George once more, staring open-mouthed at his
+incomprehensible sister. "Are you in earnest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, she ought to despise me."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite true, she should," said Anne coolly. "The only thing that keeps
+her from despising you is that uncompleted honeymoon. It's like giving a
+starving man just half enough to eat. He is still hungry."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say that you'd like to see me make it up again with
+Lutie? You'd like to have me marry her again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? I'd find some happiness in seeing you happy, I suppose. I dare
+say it is self interest on my part, after all. In a way, it makes for my
+happiness, so therein I am selfish."</p>
+
+<p>"Bosh! You'll be happy, Anne, but not through me. You are the prettiest
+girl in New York, one of the richest, one of the smartest&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"See here, George," she said, a hard note stealing into her voice, "you
+and I are pretty much alike in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> one respect. Surprising as it may seem,
+we have been able to love some one besides ourselves. And still more
+surprising, we appear to be constant. You are no more constant in your
+love for Lutie than I am in my love for the man I shall never have. My
+man despises me. Your woman merely pities you. You can retake what you
+have lost. I cannot. But why shouldn't I go on loving my man, just as
+you are loving your woman? Why shouldn't I?" she cried out fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>He gulped. "Oh, I say, Anne, I&mdash;I didn't dream that it meant so much to
+you. I have always thought of you as&mdash;as&mdash;er&mdash;sort of indifferent
+to&mdash;But, that just shows how little a fellow knows about his sister. A
+sister never seems to be given the same flesh and blood feelings that
+other women have. I'm sorry I said what I did a little while ago. I take
+it back, Anne. If you've got a chance to get Brady back&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop! I spoke of your affairs, George, because they are not altogether
+hopeless. We cannot discuss mine."</p>
+
+<p>"And as for that story, who is going to prove that Braden
+intentionally&mdash;" He checked the words, and switched off along another
+line. "Even though he did put a merciful end to Mr. Thorpe's suffering,
+what selfish motive can be charged to him? Not one. He doesn't get a
+dollar of the estate, Simmy says. He alone loved that old man. No one
+else in the world loved him. He did the best he could for him, and he
+doesn't care what any one thinks about it. I came here to warn you, to
+tell you to be careful, but now that I know what it means to you, I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She arose. Facing him, she said slowly, deliberately: "I believe that
+Braden tried to save his grandfather's life. He asked my consent to the
+operation. I gave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> it. When I gave it, I was morally certain that Mr.
+Thorpe was to die on the operating table. I wanted him to die. I wanted
+an end put to his suffering. But I did not want Braden to be the one.
+Some day I may have the courage to tell you something, George, that will
+shock you as nothing on earth has ever shocked you. I will tell you the
+real reason why Templeton Thorpe married me. I&mdash;but not now. I wish that
+the whole world could know that if Braden did take his own way to end
+the suffering of that unhappy old man, I have no word of condemnation
+for him. He did the humane thing."</p>
+
+<p>George remained seated, watching her with perplexed, dubious eyes. It
+was a matter that deserved mental concentration. He could best achieve
+this by abstaining from physical indulgence. Here was his sister, the
+wife of the dead man, actually condoning an act that was almost certain
+to be professionally excoriated,&mdash;behind the hand, so to say,&mdash;even
+though there was no one to contend that a criminal responsibility should
+be put upon Braden Thorpe. He was, for the moment, capable of forgetting
+his own troubles in considering the peril that attended Anne.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I say, Anne, you'll have to be careful what you say. It's all right
+to say it to me, but for heaven's sake don't go telling these things to
+other people." He was serious, desperately serious. "No one will
+understand. No one will see it as you do. There has been a lot of talk
+about Brady's views and all that. People are not very charitable toward
+him. They stick to the idea that God ought to do such jobs as Brady
+advocates, and I don't know but they are right. So now you just keep
+your mouth closed about all this.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> It is Braden's affair, it's his
+lookout, not yours. The least said, the better, take it from me. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We will talk of something else, George, if you don't mind," she said,
+relaxing suddenly. She sat down beside him once more, rather limply and
+with a deep, long-drawn sigh, as if she had spent herself in this single
+exposition of feeling. "Now what do you intend to do in regard to Lutie?
+Are you ready to straighten up and make the effort to&mdash;to be something
+creditable to yourself and to her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I've tried to hold down a good many respectable jobs," he scoffed.
+"It's no good trying. I'm too busy thinking of her to be able to devote
+much of my remarkable intelligence to ordinary work."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you've never had me behind you till now," she said. "I am
+perfectly able to think for you, if you'll let me. Simmy Dodge is
+interested in you. He can get you a berth somewhere. It may be a humble
+one, but it will lead to something better. You are not a drunkard, you
+are not a loafer. Now, I will tell you what I intend to do. If, at the
+end of a year, you can show me that you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on! You are not thinking of offering me money, are you?" he
+demanded, flushing angrily.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes brightened. "You would not accept it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said flatly.</p>
+
+<p>"You must remember one thing, George," she said, after a moment. "You
+cannot take Lutie back until you have paid mother in full for all that
+your freedom cost her. It wouldn't be fair to take both the girl and the
+money she received for giving you up that time. She was paid in full for
+returning you to the family circle. If she takes you back again, she
+should refund<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> the money, even though she is accepting damaged and
+well-worn goods. Now, Lutie should not be called upon to make
+restitution. That is for you to do. I fancy it will be a long time
+before you can amass thirty or forty thousand dollars, so I make you
+this offer: the day you are <i>good</i> enough for Lutie to marry all over
+again, I will pay to mother for you the full amount that Lutie would owe
+her in violating the contract. You will not receive a cent of it, you
+see. But you understand how rotten it would be for you and Lutie to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I see, I see," cried he, striking his knee with his clenched hand. "We
+couldn't do it, that's all. It's awfully good of you, Anne, to do this
+for me. I'll&mdash;I'll never forget it. And I'll pay you back somehow before
+we're through, see if I don't." He was already assuming that the task of
+winning back Lutie was joyously on the way to certain consummation.</p>
+
+<p>"I am a rich woman," said Anne, compressing her lips. "I sha'n't miss a
+few dollars, you know. To-morrow I am to go with Mr. Hollenback to the
+safety vaults. A fortune will be placed in my hands. The deal will be
+closed."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a lot of money," said George, shaking his head gloomily. It was as
+if he had said that it was money she shouldn't speak of with pride. "I
+say, Anne, do you know just how mother is fixed for money? Last winter
+she told me she might have to sell the house and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know," said Anne shortly. "I intend to share the spoils with her, in
+a way, even though she can't share the shame with me. She brought us up,
+George, and she made us the noble creatures that we are. We owe her
+something for that, eh? Oh, I am not as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> bitter as I appear to be, so
+don't look shocked. Mother has her ideals, and she is honest about them.
+She is a wonderful woman, a wonderful mother. She did her best for us in
+every way possible. I don't blame her for what has happened to me. I
+blame myself. She is not half as mean as I am, George, and she isn't
+one-tenth as weak-kneed as you. She stood by both of us, and I for one
+shall stand by her. So don't you worry about mother, old boy. Worry
+about the honest job you are expected to get&mdash;and hold."</p>
+
+<p>Later on she said to him: "Some day I shall make it a point to see
+Lutie. I will shake hands with her. You see, George dear," she went on
+whimsically, "I don't in the least object to divorcees. They are not
+half as common as divorces. And as for your contention that if you and
+Lutie had a child to draw you together, I can only call your attention
+to the fact that there are fewer divorces among people who have no
+children than among those who have. The records&mdash;or at least the
+newspapers&mdash;prove that to be a fact. In nine-tenths of the divorce cases
+you read about, the custody of children is mentioned. That should prove
+something, eh? It ought to put at rest forever the claim that children
+bind mismated people together. They don't, and that is all there is
+about it."</p>
+
+<p>George grinned in his embarrassment. "Well, I'll be off now, Anne. I'll
+see Simmy this afternoon, as you suggest, and&mdash;" he hesitated, the
+worried look coming into his eyes once more&mdash;"Oh, I say, Anne, I can't
+help repeating what I said about your seeing Braden. Don't&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, George," she broke in abruptly, a queer smile on her lips.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Braden Thorpe realised that he would have to pay, one way or another,
+for what had happened in the operating room. Either his honour or his
+skill would be attacked for the course his knife had taken.</p>
+
+<p>The day after his grandfather's death, he went to the office of Dr.
+Bates, the deposed family physician and adviser. He did not go in a
+cringing, apologetic spirit, but as one unafraid, as one who is
+justified within himself and fears not the report of evil. His heart was
+sore, for he knew he was to be misjudged. Those men who looked on while
+he worked so swiftly, so surely, so skilfully in that
+never-to-be-forgotten hour, were not to be deceived. He knew too well
+that he had performed with the most noteworthy skill, and, if he had any
+other feeling than that of grief for the death of one who had been dear
+to him, it was that of pride in the consciousness that he deserved the
+praise of these men for the manner in which he performed the most
+delicate of operations. He knew that they knew, quite as well as he,
+that but for the fatal swerving of half an inch of the instrument in his
+steady fingers, Templeton Thorpe would not only be alive at that moment
+but conceivably might be expected to survive for many days.</p>
+
+<p>They had seen everything and they understood. He did not seek to conceal
+the truth from himself. He had heard the sharply drawn breath that was
+taken through the parted lips of his tense observers as that admirably
+handled blade slid from its true course and spoiled what might have been
+heralded as a marvellous feat in surgery.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> It was as if something had
+snapped in the minds of these three men who watched. They had looked,
+however, upon all that was before him as he worked. They had seen, as he
+saw, the thing that no human skill could conquer. He felt their eyes
+upon him as he turned the knife quickly, suddenly, surely, and then they
+had looked into his eyes as he raised them for a second. He had spared
+his grandfather another month of agony, and they had seen everything. It
+was not unlikely that the patient might have survived the an&aelig;sthetic,
+and it was equally probable that subsequent care on the part of the
+doctor and the nurse might have kept him alive long enough to permit his
+case to be recorded by virtue of his having escaped alive from the
+operating table, as one of those exasperatingly smug things known to the
+profession as a "successful operation,"&mdash;sardonic prelude to an act of
+God!</p>
+
+<p>There seems to be no such thing as an unsuccessful operation. If God
+would only keep his finger out of the business, nothing could go wrong.
+It is always the act of God that keeps a man from enjoying the fruits of
+an absolutely successful operation. Up to the instant that Braden's
+knife took its sanguinary course, there was every indication that the
+operation would be successful, even though Mr. Thorpe were to breathe
+his last while the necessary stitches were being taken.</p>
+
+<p>He had slept soundly throughout the night just past. For the first night
+in a week his mind and body took the rest that had been denied them for
+so long. The thing was behind him. It was over. He had earned his right
+to sleep. When he laid his head upon the pillow there was no fear of
+evil dreams, no qualms, no troubled conscience to baffle the demands of
+exhaustion. He had done no wrong. His sleep was long, sweet,
+refreshing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> He had no fear of God in his soul that night, for he had
+spoken with God in the silence of the long night before and he was at
+peace with Him. No man could say that he had not tried to save the life
+of Templeton Thorpe. He had worked with all the knowledge at his
+command; he himself felt that he had worked as one inspired,&mdash;so much
+so, in fact, that he now knew that never again in all his life would he
+be able to surpass or even equal the effort of that unforgettable day.
+But he had recognised the futility of skill even as it was being exerted
+to its utmost accomplishments. The inevitable was bared to his
+intelligence. He had done his best for Templeton Thorpe; no man could
+have done more than that. With the eyes of other men upon him, eyes that
+saw all that he saw, he took it upon himself to spare his grandfather
+the few days that might have been added to his hell by an act less
+kind,&mdash;though no doubt more eminently professional.</p>
+
+<p>And as he performed that final act of mercy, his mind and heart were on
+the handshake, and the word of farewell that his benefactor had murmured
+in his ear. Templeton Thorpe was at rest; he had thanked his grandson in
+advance.</p>
+
+<p>So it was that Braden slept the night through without a tremor. But with
+his waking came the sense of responsibility to others. Not to the world
+at large, not to the wife of the dead man, but to the three sincere and
+honourable members of his profession, who, no doubt, found themselves in
+a most trying position. They were, in a way, his judges, and as such
+they were compelled to accept their own testimony as evidence for or
+against him. With him it was a matter of principle, with them a question
+of ethics. As men they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> were in all probability applauding his act, but
+as doctors they were bound by the first and paramount teachings of their
+profession to convict him of an unspeakable wrong. It was his duty to
+grant these men the right to speak of what they had seen.</p>
+
+<p>He went first to see Dr. Bates, his oldest friend and counsellor, and
+the one man who could afterwards speak freely with the widow of the man
+who had been his lifelong patient. Going down in the elevator from his
+room at the hotel, Braden happened to glance at himself in the narrow
+mirror. He was startled into a second sharp, investigating look. Strange
+that he had not observed while shaving how thin his face had become. His
+cheeks seemed to have flattened out leanly over night; his heavy eyes
+looked out from shadowy recesses that he had failed to take account of
+before; there were deeper lines at the corners of his mouth, as if newly
+strengthened by some artful sculptor while he slept. He was older by
+years for that unguarded sleep. Time had taken him unawares; it had
+slyly seized the opportunity to remould his features while youth was
+weak from exhaustion. In a vague way he recalled a certain mysterious
+change in Anne Tresslyn's face. It was not age that had wrought the
+change in her, nor could it be age that had done the same for him.</p>
+
+<p>The solution came to him suddenly, as he stepped out into the open air
+and saw the faces of other men. It was strength, not weakness, that had
+put its stamp upon his countenance, and upon Anne's; the strength that
+survives the constructive years, the years of development. He saw this
+set, firm strength in the faces of other men for the first time. They
+too no doubt had awakened abruptly from the dream of ambition to find
+themselves dominated by a purpose. That purpose was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> in their faces.
+Ambition was back of that purpose perhaps, deep in the soul of the man,
+but purpose had become the necessity.</p>
+
+<p>Every man comes to that strange spot in the dash through life where he
+stops to divest himself of an ideal. He lays it down beside the road
+and, without noticing, picks up a resolve in its place and strides
+onward, scarcely conscious of the substitution. It requires strength to
+carry a resolve. An ideal carries itself and is no burden. So each of
+these men in the street,&mdash;truckman, motorman, merchant, clerk, what you
+will,&mdash;sets forth each day with the same old resolution at his heels;
+and in their set faces is the strength that comes with the transition
+from wonder to earnestness. Its mark was stamped upon the countenances
+of young and old alike. Even the beggar at the street corner below was
+without his ideal. Even he had a definite, determined purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was that subtle change in Anne. He thought of it now, most
+unwillingly. He did not want to think of her. He was certain that he had
+put her out of his thoughts. Now he realised that she had merely lain
+dormant in his mind while it was filled with the intensities of the past
+few days. She had not been crowded out, after all. The sharp
+recollection of the impression he had had on seeing her immediately
+after his arrival was proof that she was still to be reckoned with in
+his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>The strange, elusive maturity that had come into her young, smooth
+face,&mdash;that was it. Maturity without the passing of Youth; definiteness,
+understanding, discovery,&mdash;a grip on the realities of life, just as it
+was with him and all the others who were awake. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> year in the life of a
+young thing like Anne could not have created the difference that he felt
+rather than saw.</p>
+
+<p>Something more significant than the dimensions of a twelve-month had
+added its measure to Anne's outlook upon life. She had turned a corner
+in the lane and was facing the vast plain she would have to cross
+unguided. She had come to the place where she must think and act for
+herself,&mdash;and to that place all men and all women come abruptly, one
+time or another, to become units in the multitude.</p>
+
+<p>We do not know when we pass that inevitable spot, nor have we the power
+to work backward and decide upon the exact moment when adolescence gave
+way to manhood. It comes and passes without our knowledge, and we are
+given a new vision in the twinkling of an eye, in a single beat of the
+heart. No man knows just when he becomes a man in his own reckoning. It
+is not a matter of years, nor growth, nor maturity of body and mind, but
+an awakening which goes unrecorded on the mind's scroll. Some men do not
+note the change until they are fifty, others when they are fifteen.
+Circumstance does the trick.</p>
+
+<p>He was still thinking of Anne as he hurried up the front door-steps and
+rang Dr. Bates' bell. She was not the same Anne that he had known and
+loved, far back in the days when he was young. Could it be possible that
+it was only a year ago? Was Anne so close to the present as all that,
+and yet so indefinably remote when it came to analysing this new look in
+her eyes? Was it only a year ago that she was so young and so unfound?</p>
+
+<p>A sudden sickness assailed him as he waited for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> maid to open the
+door. Anne had been made a widow. He, not God, was responsible for this
+new phase in her life. Had he not put a dreadful charge upon her
+conscience? Had he not forced her to share the responsibility with him?
+And, while the rest of the world might forever remain in ignorance,
+would it ever be possible for her to hide the truth from herself?</p>
+
+<p>She knew what it all meant, and she had offered to share the
+consequences with him, no matter what course his judgment led him to
+pursue. He had not considered her until this instant as a partner in the
+undertaking, but now he realised that she must certainly be looking upon
+herself as such. His heart sank. He had made a hideous mistake. He
+should not have gone to her. She could not justify herself by the same
+means that were open to him.</p>
+
+<p>From her point of view, he had killed her husband, and with her consent!</p>
+
+<p>He found himself treating the dead man in a curiously detached fashion,
+and not as his own blood-relation. Her husband, that was the long and
+the short of his swift reflections, not his grandfather. All her life
+she would remember that she had supported him in an undertaking that had
+to do with the certain death of her husband, and no matter how merciful,
+how sensible that act may have been, or how earnestly he may have tried
+to see his way clear to follow a course opposed to the one he had taken,
+the fact remained that she had acknowledged herself prepared for just
+what subsequently happened in the operating room.</p>
+
+<p>Going back to the beginning, Templeton Thorpe's death was in her mind
+the day she married him. It had never been a question with her as to how
+he should die, but <i>when</i>. But this way to the desired end could never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>
+have been included in her calculations. <i>This</i> was not the way out.</p>
+
+<p>She had been forced to take a stand with him in this unhappy business,
+and she would have to pay a cost that he could not share with her, for
+his conscience was clear. What were her thoughts to-day? With what ugly
+crime was she charging herself? Was she, in the secrecy of her soul,
+convicting herself of murder? Was <i>that</i> what he had given her to think
+about all the rest of her life?</p>
+
+<p>The servant was slow in answering the bell. They always are at the homes
+of doctors.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Dr. Bates at home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Office hours from eight to nine, and four to six."</p>
+
+<p>"Say that Dr. Thorpe wishes to see him."</p>
+
+<p>This seemed to make a difference. "He is out, Dr. Thorpe. We expect him
+in any moment though. For lunch. Will you please to come in and wait?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you."</p>
+
+<p>She felt called upon to deliver a bit of information. "He went down to
+see Mrs. Thorpe, sir,&mdash;your poor grandmother."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said Braden dully. It did not occur to him that enlightenment
+was necessary. A queer little chill ran through his veins. Was Dr. Bates
+down there now, telling Anne all that he knew, and was she, in the
+misery of remorse, making him her confessor? In the light of these
+disturbing thoughts, he was fast becoming blind to the real object of
+this, the first of the three visits he was to make.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Bates found him staring gloomily from the window when he came into
+the office half an hour later, and at once put the wrong though obvious
+construction upon his mood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, my boy," he said as they shook hands; "put it out of your
+mind. Don't let the thing weigh like this. You knew what you were about
+yesterday, so don't look back upon what happened with&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Braden interrupted him, irrelevantly. "You've been down to see Mrs.
+Thorpe. How is she? How does she appear to be taking it?" He spoke
+rapidly, nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"As well as could be expected," replied the older man drily. "She is
+glad that it's all over. So are we all, for that matter."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she send for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Dr. Bates, after an instant's hesitation. "I'll be frank
+with you, Braden. She wanted to know just what happened."</p>
+
+<p>"And you told her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I told her that you did everything that a man could do," said the
+other, choosing his words with care.</p>
+
+<p>"In other words, you did not tell her what happened."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not, my boy. There is no reason why she should know. It is better
+that she should never know," said Dr. Bates gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"What did she say?" asked Braden sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Bates suddenly was struck by the pallor in the drawn face. "See
+here, Braden, you must get a little rest. Take my advice and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me what she had to say," insisted the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"She cried a little when I told her that you had done your best, and
+that's about all."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't she confess that she expected&mdash;that she feared I might have&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Confess? Why do you use that word?" demanded Dr. Bates, as the young
+man failed to complete his sentence. His gaze was now fixed intently on
+Braden's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> face. A suspicion was growing in his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I am terribly distressed about something, Dr. Bates," said Braden,
+uneasily. "I wish you would tell me everything that Anne had to say to
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, for one thing, she said that she knew you would do everything in
+your power to bring about a successful result. She seemed vastly
+relieved when I told her that you had done all that mortal man could do.
+I don't believe she has the faintest idea that&mdash;that an accident
+occurred. Now that I think of it, she did stop me when I undertook to
+convince her that your bark is worse than your bite, young man,&mdash;in
+other words, that your theories are for conversational and not practical
+purposes. Yes, she cut me off rather sharply. I hadn't attached any
+importance to her&mdash;See here, Braden," he demanded suddenly, "is there
+any reason why she should have cut me off like that? Had she cause to
+feel that you might have put into practice your&mdash;your&mdash;Come, come, you
+know what I mean." He was leaning forward in his chair, his hands
+gripping the arm-rests.</p>
+
+<p>"She is more or less in sympathy with my views," said Braden warily. "Of
+course, you could not expect her to be in sympathy with them in this
+case, however." He put it out as a feeler.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I should say not!" exclaimed Dr. Bates. "It's conceivable that
+she may have been in some doubt, however, until I reassured her. By
+George, I am just beginning to see through her, Braden. She had me down
+there to&mdash;to set her mind at rest about&mdash;about <i>you</i>. 'Pon my soul, she
+did it neatly, too."</p>
+
+<p>"And she believes&mdash;you think she believes that her mind is at rest?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's an odd question. What do you mean?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Just that. Does she believe that you told her the truth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I see. Well, a doctor has to tell a good many lies in the course of
+a year. He gets so that he can tell them with a straighter face than
+when he's telling the truth. I don't see why Mrs. Thorpe should doubt my
+word&mdash;my professional word&mdash;unless there is some very strong reason for
+doing so." He continued to eye Braden keenly. "Do you know of any
+reason?"</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe by this time was able to collect himself. The primal instinct to
+unburden himself to this old, understanding friend, embraced sturdy,
+outspoken argument in defence of his act, but this defence did not
+contemplate the possible inclusion of Anne. He was now satisfied that
+she had not delivered herself into the confidence of Dr. Bates. She had
+kept her secret close. It was not for him to make revelations. The newly
+aroused fear that even this good old friend might attach an unholy
+design to their motives impelled him to resort to equivocation, if not
+to actual falsehood. This was a side to the matter that had not been
+considered by him till now. But he was now acutely aware of an ugly
+conviction that she had thought of it afterwards, just as he was
+thinking of it now, hence her failure to repeat to Dr. Bates the
+substance of their discussion before the operation took place.</p>
+
+<p>He experienced an unaccountable, disquieting sensation of guilt, of
+complicity in an evil deed, of a certain slyness that urged him to hide
+something from this shrewd old man. To his utter amazement, he was
+saying to himself that he must not "squeal" on Anne, his partner! He now
+knew that he could never speak of what had passed between himself and
+Anne. Of his own part in the affair he could speak frankly with this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>
+man, and with all men, and be assured that no sinister motive would be
+attributed to him. He would be free from the slightest trace of
+suspicion so long as he stood alone in accounts of the happenings of the
+day before. No matter how violent the criticism or how bitter the
+excoriation, he would at least be credited with honest intentions. But
+the mere mention of Anne's name would be the signal for a cry from the
+housetops, and all the world would hear. And Anne's name would sound the
+death knell of "honest intentions."</p>
+
+<p>"As I said a moment ago, Dr. Bates, Mrs. Thorpe is fully aware of my
+rather revolutionary views," he said, not answering the question with
+directness. "That was enough to cause some uneasiness on my part."</p>
+
+<p>"Um! I dare say," said Dr. Bates thoughtfully. Back in his mind was the
+recollection of a broken engagement, or something of the sort. "I see.
+Naturally. I think, on the whole, my boy, she believes that I told her
+the truth. You needn't be uneasy on that score. I&mdash;I&mdash;for a moment I had
+an idea that you might have <i>said</i> something to her." It was almost a
+question.</p>
+
+<p>Braden shook his head. His eyes did not flicker as he answered steadily:
+"Surely you cannot think that I would have so much as mentioned my views
+in discussing&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not, my boy," cried the other heartily. Braden did not fail
+to note the look of relief in his eye, however. "So now you are all
+right as far as Mrs. Thorpe is concerned. I made a point of assuring her
+that everything went off satisfactorily to the three of us. She need
+never know the truth. You needn't feel that you cannot look her in the
+eyes, Braden."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'Gad, that sounds sinister," exclaimed Thorpe, staring. "That's what
+they say when they are talking about thieves and liars, Dr. Bates."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon. I meant well, my boy, although perhaps it wasn't the
+nice thing to say. And now have you come to tell me that it was an
+accident, an unfortunate&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Braden, straightening up. "I come to you first, Dr. Bates,
+because you are my oldest friend and supporter, and because you were the
+lifelong friend of my grandfather. I am going also to Dr. Bray and Dr.
+Ernest after I leave here. I do not want any one of you to feel that I
+expect you to shield me in this matter. You are at liberty to tell all
+that you know. I did what I thought was best, what my conscience ordered
+me to do, and I did it openly in the presence of three witnesses. There
+was no accident. No one may say that I bungled. No one&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I should say you didn't bungle," said the older man. "I never witnessed
+a finer&mdash;ahem! In fact, we all agree on that. My boy, you have a great
+future before you. You are one of the most skilful&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks. I didn't come to hear words of praise, Dr. Bates. I came to
+release you from any obligation that you may&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Tut, tut! That's all right. We understand&mdash;perfectly. All three of us.
+I have talked it over with Bray and Ernest. What happened up there
+yesterday is as a closed book. We shall never open it. I will not go so
+far as to say that we support your theories, but we do applaud your
+method. There isn't one of us who would not have <i>felt</i> like doing the
+thing you did, but on the other hand there isn't one of us who could
+have done it. We would have allowed him a few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> more days of life. Now
+that it is all over, I will not say that you did wrong. I can only say
+that it was not right to do the thing you did. However, it is your
+conscience and not mine that carries the load,&mdash;if there is one. You may
+rest assured that not one of us will ever voluntarily describe what
+actually took place."</p>
+
+<p>"But I do not want to feel that you regard it your duty to protect me
+from the consequences of a deliberate&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"See here, my lad, do you want the world to know that you took your
+grandfather's life? That's what it amounts to, you know. You can't go
+behind the facts."</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe lowered his head. "It would be ridiculous for me to say that I do
+not care whether the world knows the truth about it, Dr. Bates. To be
+quite honest, sir, I do not want the world to know. You will understand
+why, in this particular instance, I should dread publicity. Mr. Thorpe
+was my grandfather. He was my benefactor. But that isn't the point. I
+had no legal right to do the thing I did. I took it upon myself to take
+a step that is not now countenanced by the law or by our profession. I
+did this in the presence of witnesses. What I want to make clear to you
+and to the other doctors is that I should have acted differently if my
+patient had been any one else in the world. I loved my grandfather. He
+was my only friend. He expected me to do him a great service yesterday.
+I could not fail him, sir. When I saw that there was nothing before him
+but a few awful days of agony, I did what he would have blessed me for
+doing had he been conscious. If my patient had been any one else I
+should have adhered strictly to the teachings of my profession. I would
+not have broken the law."</p>
+
+<p>"Your grandfather knew when he went up to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> operating room that he
+was not to leave it alive. Is that the case?"</p>
+
+<p>"He did not expect to leave it alive, sir," amended Braden steadily.</p>
+
+<p>"You had talked it all over with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had agreed to perform the operation, that is all, sir. He knew that
+his case was hopeless. That is why he insisted on having the operation
+performed."</p>
+
+<p>"In other words, he deliberately put you in your present position? He
+set his mind on forcing this thing upon you? Then all I have to say for
+Templeton Thorpe is that he was a damned&mdash;But there, he's dead and gone
+and, thank God, he can't hear me. You must understand, Braden, that this
+statement of yours throws an entirely new light upon the case," said Dr.
+Bates gravely. "The fact that it was actually expected of you makes your
+act a&mdash;er&mdash;shall we say less inspirational? I do not believe it wise for
+you to make this statement to my colleagues. You are quite safe in
+telling me, for I understand the situation perfectly. But if you tell
+them that there was an agreement&mdash;even a provisional agreement&mdash;I&mdash;well,
+the thing will not look the same to them."</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, Dr. Bates," said Braden, after a moment. "Thank you for
+the advice. I see what you mean. I shall not tell them all that I have
+told you. Still, I am determined to see them and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so. It is right that you should. Give them cause to respect you,
+my boy. They saw everything. They are sound, just men. From what they
+have said to me, you may rest assured that they do not condemn you any
+more than I do. The an&aelig;sthetician saw nothing. He was occupied. That
+young fellow&mdash;what's his name?&mdash;may have been more capable of observing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>
+than we'd suspect in one so tender, but I fancy he wouldn't know
+<i>everything</i>. I happen to know that he saw the knife slip. He mentioned
+it to Simeon Dodge."</p>
+
+<p>"To Simmy Dodge!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Dodge came to see me last night. He told me that the boy made some
+queer statement to him about the pylorus, and he seemed to be troubled.
+I set him straight in the matter. He doesn't know any more about the
+pylorus than he knew before, but he does know that no surgeon on earth
+could have avoided the accident that befell you in the crisis. Simmy,
+good soul, was for going out at once and buying off the interne, but I
+stopped him. We will take care of the young man. He doesn't say it was
+intentional, and we will convince him that it wasn't. How do you stand
+with young George Tresslyn?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. He used to like me. I haven't seen&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It appears that Simmy first inquired of George if he knew anything
+about the pylorus. He is Mrs. Thorpe's brother. I should be sorry if he
+got it into his head that&mdash;well, that there was anything wrong, anything
+that might take him to her with ugly questions."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall have to chance that, Dr. Bates," said Braden grimly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Thorpe must never know, Braden," said the other, gripping his
+hands behind his back.</p>
+
+<p>"If it gets out, she can't help knowing. She may suspect even now&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But it is not to get out. There may be rumours starting from this
+interne's remark and supported by your avowed doctrines, but we must
+combine to suppress them. The newspapers cannot print a line without
+our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> authority, and they'll never get it. They will not dare to print a
+rumour that cannot be substantiated. I spoke of George a moment ago for
+a very good reason. I am afraid of him. He has been going down hill
+pretty fast of late. It wouldn't surprise me to hear that he had sunk
+low enough to attempt blackmail."</p>
+
+<p>"Good heaven! Why&mdash;why, he's not that sort&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be too sure of him. He is almost in the gutter, they say. He's
+<i>that</i> sort, at any rate."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe George ever did a crooked thing in his life, poor
+devil. He wouldn't dream of coming to me with a demand for&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He wouldn't come to you," said the other, sententiously. "He would not
+have the courage to do that. But he might go to Anne. Do you see what I
+mean?"</p>
+
+<p>Braden shook his head. He recalled George's experiences in the sick-room
+and the opportunity that had been laid before him. "I see what you mean,
+but George&mdash;well, he's not as bad as you think, Dr. Bates."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see," said the older man briefly. "I hope he's the man you seem
+to think he is. I am afraid of him."</p>
+
+<p>"He loves his sister, Dr. Bates."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case he may not attempt to blackmail her, but it would not
+prevent his going to her with his story. The fact that he does love her
+may prove to be your greatest misfortune."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"As I said before, Anne must never know," said Dr. Bates, laying his
+hand on the young man's shoulder and gripping it suddenly. "Your
+grandfather talked quite freely with me toward the end. No; Anne must
+never know."</p>
+
+<p>Braden stared at the floor in utter perplexity.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Wade went through the unnecessary form of "giving notice" a day or two
+after his old master was laid to rest. On the day that Templeton Thorpe
+went to the hospital he abandoned an almost lifelong habit of cocking
+his head in an attitude of listening, and went about the house with the
+corners of his mouth drooping instead of maintaining their everlasting
+twist upward in the set smile of humility.</p>
+
+<p>He had been there for thirty years and more, and now he was no longer
+needed. He would have to get out. He had saved a little money,&mdash;not
+much, but enough to start a small business of some sort,&mdash;and he was
+complaining bitterly to himself of the fate that deprived him of Mr.
+Thorpe's advice just when it was imperative that he should know what
+enterprise would be the safest for him to undertake. It nettled him to
+think that he had failed to take advantage of his opportunities while
+this shrewd, capable old man was alive and in a position to set him on
+the right path to prosperity. He should have had the sense to look
+forward to this very day.</p>
+
+<p>For thirty years he had gone on believing that he knew so much more than
+Mr. Thorpe that Mr. Thorpe couldn't possibly get along without him, and
+now he was brought up sharply against the discovery that he couldn't get
+along without Mr. Thorpe. For thirty years he had done only the things
+that Mr. Thorpe wanted him to do, instructed him to do, or even drove
+him to do. Suddenly he found himself with absolutely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> nothing to do, or
+at any rate with no one to tell him what to do, and instead of a free
+and independent agent, with no one to order him about, he wasn't
+anything,&mdash;he wasn't anything at all. This was not what he had been
+looking forward to with such complacency and confidence. He was like a
+lost soul. No one to tell him what to do! No one to valet! No one to
+call him a blundering idiot! No one to despise except himself! And he
+had waited thirty years for the day to come when he could be his own
+man, with the power to tell every one to go to the devil&mdash;and to do so
+himself if he saw fit. He hardly recognised himself when he looked in
+the mirror. Was that scared, bleak, wobegone face a reflection? Was he
+really like that?</p>
+
+<p>He was filled with a bitter rage against Mr. Thorpe. How he hated him
+for dying like this and leaving him with nothing to do after all these
+years of faithful service. And how shocked he was, and frightened, to
+discover himself wanting to pause outside his master's door with his
+head cocked to hear the voice that would never shout out to him again.</p>
+
+<p>He knew to a penny just how much he had in the Savings Banks about
+town,&mdash;a trifle over twelve thousand dollars, the hoardings of thirty
+years. He had gone on being a valet all these years without a single
+thought of being anything else, and yet he had always looked forward to
+the day when he could go into some nice, genteel little business for
+himself,&mdash;when he could step out of service and enjoy life to the full.
+But how was he to go about stepping out of service and into a nice,
+genteel little business without Mr. Thorpe to tell him what to do? Here
+was he, sixty-five years old, without a purpose in life. Beginning life
+at sixty-five!</p>
+
+<p>Of course, young Mrs. Thorpe would have no use<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> for a valet. No doubt
+she would marry again,&mdash;Wade had his notions!&mdash;but he couldn't think of
+subjecting himself to the incompetency of a new master, even though his
+old place were held open for him. He would not be able to adjust himself
+to another master,&mdash;or to put it in his own words, it would be
+impossible to adjust another master to himself. Young Master Braden
+might give him something to do for the sake of old times, but then again
+Mrs. Thorpe would have to be taken into consideration. Wade hadn't the
+slightest doubt that she would one day "marry into the family again." As
+a matter of fact, he believed in his soul that there was an
+understanding between the young people. There were moments when he
+squinted his eyes and cringed a little. He would have given a great deal
+to be able to put certain thoughts out of his mind.</p>
+
+<p>And then there was another reason for not wanting to enter the service
+of Dr. Braden Thorpe. Suppose he were to become critically ill. Would
+he, in that event, feel at liberty to call in an outside doctor to take
+charge of his case? Would it not be natural for Dr. Braden to attend
+him? And suppose that Dr. Braden were to conclude that he couldn't get
+well!</p>
+
+<p>He gave notice to Murray, the butler. He hated to do this, for he
+despised Murray. The butler would not have to go. He too had been with
+Mr. Thorpe for more than a quarter of a century, and death had not
+robbed him of a situation. What manner of justice was it that permitted
+Murray to go on being useful while he had to go out into the world and
+become a burden to himself?</p>
+
+<p>"Murray informs me, Wade, that you have given notice," said Anne,
+looking up as he shuffled into an attitude before her. "He says that you
+have saved quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> a lot of money and are therefore independent. I am
+happy to hear that you are in a position to spend the remainder of your
+life in ease and&mdash;why, what is the matter, Wade?"</p>
+
+<p>He was very pale, and swayed slightly. "If you please, madam, Murray is
+mistaken," he mumbled. An idea was forming in his unhappy brain. "I&mdash;I
+am leaving because I realise that you no longer have any use for my
+services, and not because I am&mdash;er&mdash;well off, as the saying is. I shall
+try to get another place." His mind was clear now. The idea was
+completely formed. "Of course, it will be no easy matter to find a place
+at my age, but,&mdash;well, a man must live, you know." He straightened up a
+bit, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>She was puzzled. "But you have money, Wade. You have worked hard. You
+have earned a good rest. Why should you go on slaving for other people?"</p>
+
+<p>"Alas," said Wade, resuming the patient smile that had been missing for
+days and cocking his head a little, "it is not for me to rest. Murray
+does not know everything. My savings are small. He does not know the
+uses to which I have been obliged to&mdash;I beg pardon, madam, you cannot,
+of course, be interested in my poor affairs." He was very humble.</p>
+
+<p>"But Mr. Thorpe always spoke of you as an exceedingly thrifty man. I am
+sure that he believed you to be comfortably fixed for life, Wade."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so," agreed Wade. "And I should have been had it been possible to
+lay by with all these unmentioned obligations crowding upon me, year in,
+year out."</p>
+
+<p>"Your family? I did not know that there was any one dependent upon you."</p>
+
+<p>"I have never spoken of my affairs, ma'am," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> Wade. "It is not for a
+servant to trouble his employer with&mdash;ahem! You understand, I am sure."</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly. I am sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"So I thought I would give notice at once, madam, so that I might be on
+the lookout as soon as possible for a new place. You see, I shall soon
+be too old to apply for a place, whilst if I manage to secure one in
+time I may be allowed to stay on in spite of my age."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you anything in view?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, madam. I am quite at a loss where to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Take all the time you like, Wade," she said, genuinely sorry for the
+man. She never had liked him. He was the one man in all the world who
+might have pitied her for the mistake she had made, and he had steeled
+his heart against her. She knew that he felt nothing but scorn for her,
+and yet she was sorry for him. This was new proof to her that she had
+misjudged her own heart. It was a softer thing than she had supposed.
+"Stay on here until you find something satisfactory. Mr. Thorpe would
+have wished you to stay. You were a very faithful friend to him, Wade.
+He set great store by you."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, madam. You are very kind. Of course, I shall strive to make
+myself useful while I remain. I dare say Murray can find something for
+me to do. Temporarily, at least, I might undertake the duties of the
+furnace man and handy-man about the house. He is leaving to-morrow, I
+hear. If you will be so good as to tell Murray that I am to take
+O'Toole's place,&mdash;temporarily, of course,&mdash;I shall be very grateful. It
+will give me time to collect my thoughts, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"It will not be necessary, Wade, for you to take on O'Toole's work. I am
+not asking you to perform<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> hard, manual labor. You must not feel that
+my&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, madam," interrupted he; "I very much prefer to do some sort
+of regular work, if I may be permitted."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled. "You will find Murray a hard task-master, I am afraid."</p>
+
+<p>He took a long breath, as of relief&mdash;or could it have been pleasure? "I
+quite understand that, madam. He is a martinet. Still, I shall not
+mind." The same thought was in the mind of each: he was accustomed to
+serving a hard task-master. "If you don't mind, I shall take O'Toole's
+place until you find some one else. To-morrow I shall move my belongings
+from the room upstairs to O'Toole's room off the furnace-room. Thank&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No!" she exclaimed. "You are not to do that. Keep your old room, Wade.
+I&mdash;I cannot allow you to go down there. Mr. Thorpe would never forgive
+me if he knew that&mdash;" He lifted his eyes at the sudden pause and saw
+that she was very white. Was she too afraid of ghosts?</p>
+
+<p>"It's very good of you," he said after a moment. "I shall do as you wish
+in everything, and I shall let you know the instant I find another
+place." He cleared his throat. "I fear, madam, that in the confusion of
+the past few days I have failed to express to you my sympathy. I assure
+you the oversight was not&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She was looking straight into his eyes. "Thank you, Wade," she
+interrupted coldly. "Your own grief would be sufficient excuse, if any
+were necessary. If you will send Murray to me I will tell him that you
+have withdrawn your notice and will stay on in O'Toole's place. It will
+not be necessary for him to engage another furnace-man at present."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am," said Wade, and then added without a trace of irony in his
+voice: "At any rate not until cold weather sets in."</p>
+
+<p>And so it was that this man solved the greatest problem that had ever
+confronted him. He went down into the cellars to take orders from the
+man he hated, from the man who would snarl at him and curse him and
+humiliate him to the bitter end, and all because he knew that he could
+not begin life over again. He wanted to be ordered about, he wanted to
+be snarled at by an overbearing task-master. It simplified everything.
+He would never be called upon to think for himself. Thorpe or Murray,
+what mattered which of them was in command? It was all the same to him.
+His dignity passed, away with the passing of his career as a "Man," and
+he rejoiced in the belief that he had successfully evaded the
+responsibilities that threatened him up to the moment he entered the
+presence of the mistress of the house. He was no longer without a
+purpose in life. He would not have to go out and be independent.</p>
+
+<p>Toward the end of the second week Templeton Thorpe's will was read by
+Judge Hollenback in the presence of "the family." There had been some
+delay on account of Braden Thorpe's absence from the city. No one knew
+where he had gone, nor was he ever to explain his sudden departure
+immediately after the funeral. He simply disappeared from his hotel,
+without so much as a bag or a change of linen in his possession, so far
+as one could know. At the end of ten days he returned as suddenly and as
+casually as he had gone away, but very much improved in appearance. The
+strange pallor had left his cheeks and his eyes had lost the heavy,
+tired expression.</p>
+
+<p>At first he flatly refused to go down for the reading<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> of the will. He
+was not a beneficiary under the new instrument and he could see no
+reason for his attendance. Anne alone understood. The old vow not to
+enter the house while she was its mistress,&mdash;that was the reason. He was
+now in a position to revive that vow and to order his actions
+accordingly.</p>
+
+<p>She drooped a little at the thought of it. From time to time she caught
+herself wishing that she could devise some means of punishing him, only
+to berate herself afterward for the selfishness that inspired the
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>Still, why shouldn't he come there now? She was the same now that she
+was before her marriage took place,&mdash;a year older, that was all, but no
+less desirable. That was the one thing she could not understand in him.
+She could understand his disgust, his scorn, his rage, but she could not
+see how it was possible for him to hold out against the qualities that
+had made him love her so deeply before she gave him cause to hate her.</p>
+
+<p>As for the operation that had resulted in the death of her husband, Anne
+had but one way of looking at it. Braden had been forced to operate
+against his will, against his best judgment. He was to be pitied. His
+grandfather had failed in his attempt to corrupt the souls of others in
+his desire for peace, and there remained but the one cowardly
+alternative: the appeal to this man who loved him. In his extremity, he
+had put upon Braden the task of performing a miracle, knowing full well
+that its accomplishment was impossible, that failure was as inevitable
+as death itself.</p>
+
+<p>The thought never entered her mind that in persuading Braden to perform
+this strange act of mercy her husband may have been moved by the sole
+desire to put the final touch to the barrier he had wrought between
+them. The fact that Braden was responsible for his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> death had no
+sinister meaning for her. It was the same as if he had operated upon a
+total stranger with a like result and with perhaps identical motives.</p>
+
+<p>She kept on saying to herself that she had given up hope of ever
+regaining the love she had lost. She tried to remember just when she had
+ceased to hope. Was it before or after that last conversation took place
+in the library? Hope may have died, but he was alive and she was alive.
+Then how could love be dead?</p>
+
+<p>It was Simmy Dodge who prevailed upon Braden to be present at the
+reading of the will. Simmy was the sort of man who goes about, in the
+goodness of his heart, adjusting matters for other people. He
+constituted himself in this instance, however, as the legal adviser of
+his old friend and companion, and that gave him a certain amount of
+authority.</p>
+
+<p>"And what's more," he said in arguing with the obdurate Braden, "we'll
+probably have to smash the will, if, as you say, you have been cut off
+without a nickel. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't want to smash it," protested Braden.</p>
+
+<p>"And why not?" demanded Simmy, in surprise. "You are his only blood
+relation, aren't you? Why the deuce should he leave everything away from
+you? Of course we'll make a fight for it. I've never heard of a more
+outrageous piece of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't understand, Simmy," Braden interrupted, suddenly realising
+that his position would be a difficult one to explain, even to this good
+and loyal friend. "We'll drop the matter for the present, at any rate."</p>
+
+<p>"But why should Mr. Thorpe have done this rotten, inconceivable thing to
+you, Brady?" demanded Dodge. "Good Lord, that will won't stand a minute
+in a court of&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It will stand so far as I'm concerned," said Braden sharply, and Simmy
+blinked his eyes in bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't be fighting Anne, you know," he ventured after a moment,
+assuming that Braden's attitude was due to reluctance in that direction.
+"She is provided for outside the will, she tells me."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you her attorney, Simmy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. That is, the firm represents her, and I'm one of the firm."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see how you can represent both of us, old chap."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just what I'm trying to get into your head. I couldn't represent
+you if there was to be a fight with Anne. But we can fight these idiotic
+charities, can't we?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Braden flatly. "My grandfather's will is to stand just as it
+is, Simmy. I shall not contest for a cent. And so, if you please,
+there's no reason for my going down there to listen to the reading of
+the thing. I know pretty well what the document says. I was in Mr.
+Thorpe's confidence. For your own edification, Simmy, I'll merely say
+that I have already had my share of the estate, and I'm satisfied."</p>
+
+<p>"Still, in common decency, you ought to go down and listen to the
+reading of the will. Judge Hollenback says he will put the thing off
+until you are present, so you might as well go first as last. Be
+reasonable, Brady. I know how you feel toward Anne. I can appreciate
+your unwillingness to go to her house after what happened a year ago.
+Judge Hollenback declares that his letter of instruction from Mr. Thorpe
+makes it obligatory for him to read the document in the presence of his
+widow and his grandson, and in the library of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> late home. Otherwise,
+the thing could have been done in Hollenback's offices."</p>
+
+<p>In the end Braden agreed to be present.</p>
+
+<p>When Judge Hollenback smoothed out the far from voluminous looking
+document, readjusted his nose glasses and cleared his throat preparatory
+to reading, the following persons were seated in the big, fire-lit
+library: Anne Thorpe, the widow; Braden Thorpe, the grandson; Mrs.
+Tresslyn, George Tresslyn, Simmy Dodge, Murray, and Wade, the
+furnace-man. The two Tresslyns were there by Anne's request. Late in the
+day she was overcome by the thought of sitting there alone while Braden
+was being dispossessed of all that rightfully belonged to him. She had
+not intended to ask her mother to come down for the reading. Somehow she
+had felt that Mrs. Tresslyn's presence would indicate the consummation
+of a project that had something ignoble about it. She knew that her
+mother could experience no other sensation than that of curiosity in
+listening to the will. Her interest in the affairs of Templeton Thorpe
+ended with the signing of the ante-nuptial contract, supplemented of
+course by the event which satisfactorily terminated the agreement inside
+of a twelve-month. But Anne, practically alone in the world as she now
+found herself to be, was suddenly aware of a great sense of depression.
+She wanted her mother. She wanted some one near who would not look at
+her with scornful, bitter eyes.</p>
+
+<p>George's presence is to be quickly explained. He had spent the better
+part of the week with Anne, sleeping in the house at her behest. For a
+week she had braved it out alone. Then came the sudden surrender to
+dread, terror, loneliness. The shadows in the halls<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> were grim; the
+sounds in the night were sinister, the stillness that followed them
+creepy; the servants were things that stalked her, and she was
+afraid&mdash;mortally afraid in this home that was not hers. She had made up
+her mind to go away for a long time just as soon as everything was
+settled.</p>
+
+<p>As for the furnace-man, Judge Hollenback had summoned him on his arrival
+at the house. So readily had Wade adapted himself to his new duties that
+he now felt extremely uncomfortable and ill-at-ease in a room that had
+been like home to him for thirty years. He seemed to feel that this was
+no place for the furnace-man, notwithstanding the scouring and polishing
+process that temporarily had restored him to a more exalted office,&mdash;for
+once more he was the smug, impeccable valet.</p>
+
+<p>Braden was the last to arrive. He timed his arrival so that there could
+be no possibility of an informal encounter with Anne. She came forward
+and shook hands with him, simply, unaffectedly.</p>
+
+<p>"You have been away," she said, looking straight into his eyes. He was
+conscious of a feeling of relief. He had been living in some dread of
+what he might detect in her eyes. But it was a serene, frank expression
+that he found in them, not a question.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said. "I was tired," he added after a moment.</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated. Then: "I have not seen you, Braden, since&mdash;since the
+twenty-first. You have not given me the opportunity to tell you that I
+know you did all that any one could possibly do for Mr. Thorpe. Thank
+you for undertaking the impossible. I am sorry&mdash;oh, so sorry,&mdash;that you
+were made to suffer. I want you to remember too that it was with my
+sanction that you made the hopeless effort."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He turned cold. The others had heard every word. She had spoken without
+reserve, without the slightest indication of nervousness or compunction.
+The very thing that he feared had come to pass. She had put herself
+definitely on record. He glanced quickly about, searching the faces of
+the other occupants of the room. His gaze fell upon Wade, and rested for
+a second or two. Something told him that Wade's gaze would shift,&mdash;and
+it did.</p>
+
+<p>"I did everything, Anne. Thank you for believing in me." That was all.
+No word of sympathy, no mawkish mumbling of regret, no allusion to his
+own loss. He looked again into her eyes, this time in quest of the
+motive that urged her to make this unnecessary declaration. Was there a
+deeper significance to be attached to her readiness to assume
+responsibility? He looked for the light in her eye that would convince
+him that she was taking this stand because of the love she felt for him.
+He was immeasurably relieved to find no secret message there. She had
+not stooped to that, and he was gratified. Her eyes were clouded with
+concern for him, that was all. He was ashamed of himself for the
+thought,&mdash;and afterwards he wondered why he should have been ashamed.
+After all, it was only right that she should be sorry for him. He
+deserved that much from her.</p>
+
+<p>An awkward silence ensued. Simmy Dodge coughed nervously, and then
+Braden advanced to greet Mrs. Tresslyn. She did not rise. Her gloved
+hand was extended and he took it without hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>"It is good to see you again, Braden," she said, with the bland,
+perfunctory parting of the lips that stands for a smile with women of
+her class. He meant nothing to her now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Thanks," he said, and moved on to George, who regarded him with some
+intensity for a moment and then gripped his hand heartily. "How are you,
+George?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fine! First stage of regeneration, you know. I'm glad to see you,
+Brady."</p>
+
+<p>There was such warmth in the repressed tones that Thorpe's hand clasp
+tightened. Tresslyn was still a friend. His interest quickened into a
+keen examination of the young man who had pronounced himself in the
+first stage of regeneration, whatever that may have signified to one of
+George's type. He was startled by the haggard, sick look in the young
+fellow's face. George must have read the other's expression, for he
+said: "I'm all right,&mdash;just a little run down. That's natural, I
+suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"He has a dreadful cold," said Anne, who had overheard. "I can't get him
+to do anything for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you worry about me, Anne," said George stoutly.</p>
+
+<p>"Just the same, you should take care of yourself," said Braden.
+"Pneumonia gets after you big fellows, you know. How are you, Wade? Poor
+old Wade, you must miss my grandfather terribly. You knew him before I
+was born. It seems an age, now that I think of it in that way."</p>
+
+<p>"Thirty-three years, sir," said Wade. "Nearly ten years longer than
+Murray, Mr. Braden, It does seem an age."</p>
+
+<p>The will was not a lengthy document. The reading took no more than three
+minutes, and for another full minute after its conclusion, not a person
+in the room uttered a word. A sort of stupefaction held them all in its
+grip,&mdash;that is, all except the old lawyer who was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> putting away his
+glasses and waiting for the outburst that was sure to follow.</p>
+
+<p>In the first place, Mr. Thorpe remembered Anne. After declaring that she
+had been satisfactorily provided for in a previous document, known to
+her as a contract, he bequeathed to her the house in which she had lived
+for a single year with him. All of its contents went with this bequest.
+To Josiah Wade he left the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars, to
+Edward Murray ten thousand dollars, and to each of the remaining
+servants in his household a sum equal to half of their earnings while in
+his service. There were bequests to his lawyer, his doctor and his
+secretary, besides substantial gifts to persons who could not by any
+chance have expected anything from this grim old man,&mdash;such as the
+friendly doorman at his favourite club, and the man who had been
+delivering newspapers to him for a score of years or more, and the old
+negro bootblack who had attended him at the Brevoort in the days before
+the Italian monopoly set in, and the two working-girls who supported the
+invalid widow of a man who had gone to prison and died there after
+having robbed the Thorpe estate of a great many thousands of dollars
+while acting as a confidential and trusted agent.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the astounding disposition of the fortune that had accumulated
+in the time of Templeton Thorpe. There were no bequests outright to
+charity, contrary to all expectations. The listeners were prepared to
+hear of huge gifts to certain institutions and societies known to have
+been favoured by the testator. Various hospitals were looked upon as
+sure to receive splendid endowments, and specific colleges devoted to
+the advancement of medical and surgical science were also regarded as
+inevitable beneficiaries. It was all cut and dried, so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> far as Judge
+Hollenback's auditors were concerned,&mdash;that is to say, prior to the
+reading of the will. True, the old lawyer had declared in the beginning,
+that the present will was drawn and signed on the afternoon of the day
+before the death of Mr. Thorpe, and that a previous instrument to which
+a codicil had been affixed was destroyed in the presence of two
+witnesses. The instrument witnessed by Wade and Murray was the one that
+had been destroyed. This should have aroused uneasiness in the mind of
+Braden Thorpe, if no one else, but he was slow to recognise the
+significance of the change in his grandfather's designs.</p>
+
+<p>With his customary terseness, Templeton Thorpe declared himself to be
+hopelessly ill but of sound mind at the moment of drawing his last will
+and testament, and suffering beyond all human endurance. His condition
+at that moment, and for weeks beforehand, was such that death offered
+the only panacea. He had come to appreciate the curse of a life
+prolonged beyond reason. Therefore, in full possession of all his
+faculties and being now irrevocably converted to the principles of mercy
+advocated by his beloved grandson, Braden Lanier Thorpe, he placed the
+residue of his estate in trust, naming the aforesaid Braden Lanier
+Thorpe as sole trustee, without bond, the entire amount to be utilised
+and expended by him in the promotion of his noble and humane propaganda
+in relation to the fate of the hopelessly afflicted among those
+creatures fashioned after the image of God. The trust was to expire with
+the death of the said Braden Lanier Thorpe, when all funds remaining
+unused for the purposes herein set forth were to go without restriction
+to the heirs of the said trustee, either by bequest or administration.</p>
+
+<p>In so many words, the testator rested in his grandson<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> full power and
+authority to use these funds, amounting to nearly six million dollars,
+as he saw fit in the effort to obtain for the human sufferer the same
+mercy that is extended to the beast of the field, and to make final
+disposition of the estate in his own will. Realising the present
+hopelessness of an attempt to secure legislation of this character, he
+suggested that first of all it would be imperative to prepare the way to
+such an end by creating in the minds of all the peoples of the world a
+state of common sense that could successfully combat and overcome love,
+sentimentality and cowardice! For these three, he pointed out, were the
+common enemy of reason. "And in compensation for the discharge of such
+duties as may come under the requirements of this trusteeship, the
+aforesaid Braden Lanier Thorpe shall receive the fees ordinarily
+allotted by law and, in addition, the salary of twenty-five thousand
+dollars per annum, until the terms of this instrument are fully carried
+out."</p>
+
+<p>Anne Tresslyn Thorpe was named as executrix of the will.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Simmy Dodge was the first to speak. He was the first to grasp the full
+meaning of this deliberately ambiguous will. His face cleared.</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!" he exclaimed, without respect for the proprieties. He slapped
+Braden on the back, somewhat enthusiastically. "We sha'n't have to smash
+it, after all. It's the cleverest thing I've ever listened to, old man.
+What a head your grandfather had on his&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Braden leaped to his feet, his face quivering. "Of course we'll smash
+it," he stormed. "Do you suppose or imagine for an instant that I will
+allow such a thing as that to stand? Do you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Go slow, Brady, go slow," broke in his excited, self-appointed lawyer.
+"Can't you see through it? Can't you see what he was after? Why, good
+Lord, man, he has made you the principal legatee,&mdash;he has actually given
+you <i>everything</i>. All this rigmarole about a trust or a foundation or
+whatever you want to call it amounts to absolutely nothing. The money is
+yours to do what you like with as long as you live. You have complete
+control of every dollar of it. No one else has a thing to say about it.
+Why, it's the slickest, soundest will I've&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my God!" groaned Braden, dropping into a chair and covering his
+face with his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Judge Hollenback was smiling benignly. He had drawn the will. He knew
+that it was sound, if not "slick," as Simmy had described it. The three
+Tresslyns<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> leaned forward in their chairs, bewildered, dumbfounded.
+Their gaze was fixed on the shaking figure of Braden Thorpe.</p>
+
+<p>As for Wade, he had sunk helplessly into a chair. A strange, hunted look
+appeared in his eyes. His chin sank lower and lower, and his body
+twitched. He was not caring what happened to Braden Thorpe, he was not
+even thinking about the vast fortune that had been placed at the young
+man's disposal. His soul was sick. In spite of all that he could do to
+prevent it, his gaze went furtively to Murray's rubicund jowl, and then
+shifted to the rapt, eager face of his young mistress. Twenty-five
+thousand dollars! There was no excuse for him now. With all that money
+he could not hope to stay on in service. He was rich. He would have to
+go out into the world and shift for himself. He could not go on 'tending
+furnace for Mrs. Thorpe,&mdash;he couldn't take the bread out of some
+deserving wretch's mouth by hanging onto the job with all that money in
+his possession. Mrs. Thorpe would congratulate him on the morrow, and
+turn him out. And no one would tell him where to go,&mdash;unless it might be
+Murray, in a fit of anger.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Thorpe was not moved by any desire to circumvent certain&mdash;perhaps I
+should say that he intended you, Dr. Thorpe, to act in strict accordance
+with the provisions of the will," said Judge Hollenback. "He did not
+lose sight of the fact that he had promised to leave you out of his will
+completely. This money is not yours. It is in your hands as trustee. Mr.
+Dodge is wrong. Your grandfather was very deeply in earnest when he
+authorised the drawing of this instrument. You will discover, on reading
+it carefully and thoughtfully, that he does not give you the right to
+divert any of this money to your own private uses, but clearly says<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>
+that it is to be employed, under your sole direction and as you see fit,
+for the carrying out of your ideas along certain lines. He has left a
+letter for you, Dr. Thorpe, which I have been privileged to read. You
+will find it in this envelope. For the benefit of future beneficiaries
+under this instrument, I may say that he expresses the hope and desire
+that you will not permit the movement to languish after your death. In
+fact, he expressly instructs you to establish during your life time a
+systematic scheme of education by reason of which the world eventually
+may become converted to the ideas which you promulgate and defend. He
+realised that this cannot he brought about in one generation, nor in
+two, three or four. Indeed, he ventures the opinion that two centuries
+may pass before this sound and sensible theory of yours,&mdash;the words are
+his, not mine,&mdash;becomes a reality. Two centuries, mind you. So, you will
+see, he does not expect you to perform a miracle, Braden. You are to
+start the ball rolling, so to speak, in a definite, well-supported
+groove, from which there can be no deviation. By this will, you are to
+have free and unhampered use of a vast sum of money. He does not bind
+you in any particular. So much for the outward expression of the will.
+Inversely, however, as you will find by reading this letter, you are not
+so completely free to exercise your own discretion. You will find that
+while he gives to you the undisputed right to bequeath this fortune as
+you may see fit at the expiration of your term as trustee&mdash;in short, at
+your death,&mdash;he suggests that,&mdash;being an honourable and conscientious
+man to his certain knowledge,&mdash;you will create a so-called foundation
+for the perpetuation of your ideas&mdash;and his, I may add. This foundation
+is to grow out of and to be the real development of the trust over which
+you now have absolute control. But all this, my friend, we may discuss
+later on.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> The real significance of Mr. Thorpe's will is to be found in
+the faith he reposes in you. He puts you on your honour. He entrusts
+this no inconsiderable fortune to your care. It rests entirely with you
+as to the manner in which it shall be used. If you elect to squander it,
+there is no one to say nay to you. It is expressly stated here that the
+trust comprehends the spread of the doctrines you advocate, but it does
+not pretend to guide or direct you in the handling of the funds. Mr.
+Thorpe trusts you to be governed by the dictates of your own honour. I
+have no hesitancy in saying that I protested against this extraordinary
+way of creating a trust, declaring to him that I thought he was doing
+wrong in placing you in such a position,&mdash;that is to say, it was wrong
+of him to put temptation in your way. He was confident, however. In
+fact, he was entirely satisfied with the arrangement. I will admit that
+at the time I had a queer impression that he was chuckling to himself,
+but of course I was wrong. It was merely the quick and difficult
+breathing of one in dire pain. The situation is quite plain, ladies and
+gentlemen. The will is sound. Mr. Dodge has observed,&mdash;somewhat hastily
+I submit,&mdash;that he believes it will not have to be smashed. He says that
+the money has been left to Dr. Thorpe, and that the trust is a
+rigmarole, or something of the sort. Mr. Dodge is right, after a
+fashion. If Dr. Thorpe chooses to violate his grandfather's staunch
+belief in his integrity, if he elects to disregard the suggestions set
+down in this letter&mdash;which, you must understand, is in no sense a legal
+supplement to the will,&mdash;he may justify Mr. Dodge's contention that the
+fortune is his to do with as he pleases." He turned to Anne. "I beg to
+inform you, Mrs. Thorpe, that your duties as executrix will not prove
+onerous. Your late husband left his affairs in such shape that there
+will be absolutely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> no difficulty in settling the estate. It could be
+done in half an hour, if necessary. Everything is ship-shape, as the
+saying is. I shall be glad to place myself at the command of yourself
+and your attorneys. Have no hesitancy in calling upon me."</p>
+
+<p>He waited. No one spoke. Braden was looking at him now. He had recovered
+from his momentary collapse and was now listening intently to the old
+lawyer's words. There was a hard, uncompromising light in his eyes,&mdash;a
+sullen prophecy of trouble ahead. After a moment, Judge Hollenback
+construed their silence as an invitation to go on. He liked to talk.</p>
+
+<p>"Our good friend Dodge says that no one else has a thing to say about
+the manner in which the trustee of this vast fund shall disperse his
+dollars." (Here he paused, for it sounded rather good to him.) "Ahem!
+Now does Mr. Dodge really believe what he says? Just a moment, please. I
+am merely formulating&mdash;er&mdash;I beg pardon, Mrs. Thorpe. You were
+saying&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"I prefer not to act as executrix of the will, Judge Hollenback," said
+Anne dully. "How am I to go about being released from&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Mrs. Thorpe, you must believe me when I say that your
+duties,&mdash;er&mdash;the requirements,&mdash;are practically <i>nil</i>. Pray do not
+labour under the impression that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't that," said Anne. "I just don't want to serve, that's all. I
+shall refuse."</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter will think the matter over for a few days, Judge
+Hollenback," said Mrs. Tresslyn suavely. "She <i>does</i> feel, I've no doubt,
+that it would be a tax on her strength and nerves. In a few days, I'm
+sure, she will feel differently." She thought she had sensed Anne's
+reason for hesitating. Mrs. Tresslyn had been speechless with dismay&mdash;or
+perhaps it was indignation&mdash;up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> to this moment. She had had a hard fight
+to control her emotions.</p>
+
+<p>"We need not discuss it now, at any rate," said Anne. She found it
+extremely difficult to keep from looking at Braden as she spoke.
+Something told her that he was looking hard at her. She kept her face
+averted.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite right, quite right," said Judge Hollenback. "I hope you will
+forgive me, Braden, for mentioning your&mdash;er&mdash;theories,&mdash;the theories
+which inspired the somewhat disturbing clause in your grandfather's
+will. I feel that it is my duty to explain my position in the matter. I
+was opposed to the creation of this fund. I tried to make your
+grandfather see the utter fallacy of his&mdash;shall we call it whim? Now, I
+will not put myself in the attitude of denying the true humanity of your
+theory. I daresay it has been discussed by physicians for ages. It was
+my aim to convince your grandfather that all the money in the world
+cannot bring about the result you desire. I argued from the legal point
+of view. There are the insurance companies to consider. They will put
+obstacles in the way of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, Judge Hollenback," interrupted Braden steadily. "I do not
+advocate an illegal act. We need not discuss my theories, however. The
+absurdity of the clause in my grandfather's will is as clear to me as it
+is to you. The conditions cannot be carried out. I shall refuse to
+accept this trusteeship."</p>
+
+<p>Judge Hollenback stared. "But, my dear friend, you must accept. What is
+to become of the&mdash;er&mdash;money if you refuse to act? You can't possibly
+refuse. There is no other provision for the disposition of the estate.
+He has put it squarely up to you. There is no other solution. You may be
+sure, sir, that I do not care what you do with the money, and I fancy no
+one else will undertake to define your&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Just the same, sir, I cannot and will not accept," said Braden,
+finality in his tone. "I cannot tell you how shocked, how utterly
+overwhelmed I am by&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Simmy interrupted him. "I'd suggest, old fellow, that you take Mr.
+Thorpe's letter to your rooms and read it. Take time to think it all out
+for yourself. Don't go off half-cocked like this."</p>
+
+<p>"You at least owe it to yourself and to your grandfather&mdash;" began Judge
+Hollenback soothingly, but was cut short by Braden, who arose and turned
+to the door. There he stopped and faced them.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, Judge Hollenback, but I must ask you to consider the matter
+closed. I shall leave you and Mr. Dodge to find a satisfactory solution.
+In the first place, I am a practising physician and surgeon. I prefer to
+regulate my own life and my life's work. I need not explain to you just
+how deeply I am interested in the saving of human life. That comes first
+with me. My theories, as you call them, come second. I cannot undertake
+the promotion of these theories as a salaried advocate. This is the only
+stupid and impractical thing that my grandfather ever did, I believe. He
+must have known that the terms of the will could not be carried out. Mr.
+Dodge is right. It was his way of leaving the property to me after
+declaring that he would not do so, after adding the codicil annulling
+the bequest intended for me. He broke a solemn compact. Now he has made
+the situation absolutely impossible. I shall not act as trustee of this
+fund, and I shall not use a penny of the fortune 'as I see fit,' Judge
+Hollenback. There must be some other channel into which all this money
+can be diverted without&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There is no provision, sir, as I said before," said Judge Hollenback
+testily. "It can only be released by an act of yours. That is clear,
+quite clear."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Then, I shall find a way," said Braden resolutely. "I shall go into
+court and ask to have the will set aside as&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's it, sir, that's it," came an eager voice from an unexpected
+quarter. Wade was leaning forward in his chair, visibly excited by the
+prospect of relief. "I can testify, sir, that Mr. Thorpe acted
+strangely,&mdash;yes, very queerly,&mdash;during the past few months. I should say
+that he was of unsound mind." Then, as every eye was upon him, he
+subsided as suddenly as he had begun.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up!" whispered Murray, murderously, bending over, the better to
+penetrate his ear. "You damn fool!"</p>
+
+<p>Judge Hollenback indulged in a frosty smile. "Mr. Wade is evidently
+bewildered." Then, turning to Braden, he said: "Mr. Dodge's advice is
+excellent. Think the matter over for a few days and then come to see
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"I am placed in a most unhappy position," said Braden, with dignity.
+"Mrs. Thorpe appreciates my feelings, I am sure. She was led to believe,
+as I was, that my grandfather had left me out of his will. Such a thing
+as this subterfuge never crossed my mind, nor hers. I wish to assure
+her, in the presence of all of you, that I was as completely ignorant of
+all this&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know it, Braden," interrupted Anne. "I know that you had nothing to
+do with it. And for that reason I feel that you should accept the trust
+that is&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Anne!" cried out Braden, incredulously. "You cannot mean it. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I do mean it," she said firmly. "It is your greatest justification. You
+should carry out his wishes. He does not leave you the money outright.
+You may do as you please with it, to be sure, but why should you agree<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>
+with Simmy that it may be converted solely to your own private uses? Why
+should you feel that he intended you to have it all for your own? Does
+he not set forth explicitly just what uses it is to be put to by you
+during your lifetime? He puts you on your honour. He knew what he was
+about when he overruled Judge Hollenback's objection. He knew that this
+trust would be safe in your hands. Yes, Braden, he knew that you would
+not spend a penny of it on yourself."</p>
+
+<p>He was staring at her blankly. Mrs. Tresslyn was speaking now, but it is
+doubtful if he heard a word that she uttered. He was intent only upon
+the study of Anne's warm, excited face.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Thorpe assured me a little over a year ago," began Anne's mother, a
+hard light in her eyes, "that it was his determination to leave his
+grandson out of his will altogether. It was his desire,&mdash;or at least, so
+he said,&mdash;to remove from Braden's path every obstacle that might
+interfere with his becoming a great man and a credit to his name. By
+that, of course, he meant money unearned. He told me that most of his
+fortune was to go to Charitable and Scientific Institutions. I had his
+solemn word of honour that his grandson was to be in no sense a
+beneficiary under his will. He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Please, mother!" broke in Anne, a look of real shame in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"And so how are we to reconcile this present foolishness with his very
+laudable display of commonsense of a year ago?" went on Mrs. Tresslyn,
+the red spot darkening in her cheek. "He played fast and loose with all
+of us. I agree with Braden Thorpe. There was treachery in&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ahem!" coughed Judge Hollenback so loudly and so pointedly that the
+angry sentence was not completed.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn was furious. She had been cheated,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> and Anne had been
+cheated. The old wretch had played a trick on all of them! He had bought
+Anne for two millions, and now <i>nothing</i>,&mdash;absolutely <i>nothing</i> was to
+go to Charity! Braden was seven times a millionaire instead of a poor
+but ambitious seeker after fame!</p>
+
+<p>In the few minutes that followed Judge Hollenback's cough, she had time
+to restore her equanimity to its habitual elevation. It had, for once,
+stooped perilously near to catastrophe.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, her son George had arrived at a conclusion. He arose from his
+chair with a wry face and a half uttered groan, and crossed over to
+Braden's side. Strange, fierce pains were shooting through all the
+joints and muscles of his body.</p>
+
+<p>"See here, Brady, I'd like to ask a question, if you don't mind."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind. What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would you have operated on Mr. Thorpe if you'd known what was in this
+will?"</p>
+
+<p>Braden hesitated, but only for a second. "Yes. My grandfather asked me
+to operate. There was nothing else for me to do under the
+circumstances."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just what I thought. Well, all I've got to say is that so long
+as you respected his wishes while he was alive it seems pretty rotten in
+you to take the stand you're taking now."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"He virtually asked you to make an end of him. You both knew there was
+no chance. You operated and he died. I'm speaking plainly, you see. No
+one blames you. You did your best. But it seems to me that if you could
+do what he asked you to do at that time, you ought to do what he asks of
+you now. As long as you were willing to respect his last wish alive, you
+ought not to stir up a rumpus over his first wish dead."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The two men were looking hard into each other's eyes. George's voice
+shook a little, but not from fear or nervousness. He was shivering with
+the chill that precedes fever.</p>
+
+<p>Anne drew a step or two nearer. She laid an appealing hand on George's
+arm.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I understand you, George," said Thorpe slowly. "You are telling
+me that you believe I took my grandfather's life by design. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said George quietly, "I'm not saying that, Brady. I'm saying that
+you owe as much to him now as you did when he was alive. If you had not
+consented to operate, this will would never have been drawn. If you had
+refused, the first will would have been read to-day. I guess you are
+entirely responsible for the making of this new will, and that's why I
+say you ought to be man enough to stand by your work."</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe turned away. His face was very white and his hands were clenched.</p>
+
+<p>Anne shook her brother's arm. "Why,&mdash;oh, why did you say that to him,
+George? Why&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Because it ought to have been said to him," said George coolly; "that's
+why. He made old Mr. Thorpe see things from his point of view, and it's
+up to him to shoulder the responsibility."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn spoke to Murray. "Is there any reason why we shouldn't
+have tea, Murray? Serve it, please." She turned to Judge Hollenback. "I
+don't see any sense in trying to settle all the little details to-day,
+do you, Judge Hollenback? We've done all that it is possible to do
+to-day. The will has been read. That is all we came for, I fancy. I
+confess that I am astonished by several of the provisions, but the more
+I think of them the less unreasonable they seem to be. We have nothing
+to quarrel about. Every one appears<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> to be satisfied except Dr. Thorpe,
+so let us have tea&mdash;and peace. Sit down, Braden. You can't decide the
+question to-day. It has too many angles."</p>
+
+<p>Braden lifted his head. "Thank you, Mrs. Tresslyn; I shall not wait. At
+what hour may I see you to-morrow, Judge Hollenback?"</p>
+
+<p>"Name your own hour, Braden."</p>
+
+<p>"Three o'clock," said Braden succinctly. He turned to George. "No hard
+feelings, George, on my part."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor on mine," said George, extending his hand. "It's just my way of
+looking at things lately. No offence was meant, Brady. I'm too fond of
+you for that."</p>
+
+<p>"You've given me something to think about," said Thorpe. He bowed
+stiffly to the ladies and Judge Hollenback. George stepped out into the
+hall with him.</p>
+
+<p>"I intend to stick pretty close to Anne, Brady," he said with marked
+deliberation. "She needs me just now."</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe started. "I don't get your meaning, George."</p>
+
+<p>"There will be talk, old man,&mdash;talk about you and Anne. Do you get it
+now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Good heaven! I&mdash;yes, I suppose there will be all sorts of conjectures,"
+groaned Braden bitterly. "People remember too well, George. You may rest
+easy, however. I shall not give them any cause to talk. As for coming to
+this house again, I can tell you frankly that as I now feel I could
+almost make a vow never to enter its doors again as long as I live."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I just thought I'd let you know how I stand in the matter," said
+George. "I'm going to try to look out for Anne, if she'll let me.
+Good-bye, Brady. I hope you'll count me as one of your friends, if you
+think I'm worth while. I'm&mdash;I'm going to make a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> fresh start, you know."
+He grinned, and his teeth chattered.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better go to bed," said Braden, looking at him closely. "Tell
+Anne that I said so, and&mdash;you'd better let a doctor look you over, too."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't much use for doctors," said George, shaking his head. "I
+wanted to kill you last winter when you cut poor little Lutie&mdash;Oh, but
+of course you understand. I was kind of dotty then, I guess. So long."</p>
+
+<p>Simmy came to the library door and called out: "I'll be with you in a
+second, Brady. I'm going your way, and I don't care which way you're
+going. My car's outside." Re-entering the room, Mr. Dodge walked up to
+Anne and actually shook her as a parent would shake a child. "Don't be
+silly about it, Anne. You've got to accept the house. He left it to you
+without&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot live up to the conditions. The will says that I must continue
+to make this place my home, that I must reside here for&mdash;Oh! I cannot do
+it, that's all, Simmy. I would go mad, living here. There is no use
+discussing the matter. I will not take the house."</p>
+
+<p>"'Pon my soul," sighed Judge Hollenback, "the poor man seems to have
+made a mess of everything. He can't even give his property away. No one
+will take it. Braden refuses, Mrs. Thorpe refuses, Wade is
+dissatisfied&mdash;Ah, yes, Murray seems to be pleased. One lump, Mrs.
+Tresslyn, and a little cream. Now as for Wade's attitude&mdash;by the way,
+where is the man?"</p>
+
+<p>Wade was at the lower end of the hall, speaking earnestly in a tremulous
+undertone to Braden Thorpe.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, Mr. Braden, there's only one thing to do. We've got to have
+it set aside, declared void. You may count on me, sir. I'll swear to his
+actions. Crazy as a loon, sir,&mdash;? crazy as a loon."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Two days later George Tresslyn staggered weakly into Simmy Dodge's
+apartment. He was not alone. A stalwart porter from an adjacent
+apartment building was supporting him when Dodge's man opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>"This Mr. Dodge?" demanded the porter.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Dodge's man. Mr. Dodge isn't at 'ome," said Baffly quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said the porter, pushing past the man and leading George
+toward a couch he had observed from the open door. "This ain't no jag,
+Johnny. He's sick. Out of his head. Batty. Say, don't you know him? Am I
+in wrong? He said he wanted to come here to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>George had tossed himself, sprawling, upon the long couch. His eyes were
+closed and his breathing was stertorous.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I know him. What&mdash;what is the matter with him? My Gawd, man,
+don't tell me he is dying. What do you mean, bringing 'im 'ere? There
+will be a coroner's hinquest and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You better get a doctor first. Waste no time. Get the coroner afterward
+if you have to. You tell Mr. Dodge that he came into our place half an
+hour ago and said he wanted to go up to his friend's apartment. He was
+clean gone then. He wanted to lick the head porter for saying Mr. Dodge
+didn't live in the buildin'. We saw in a minute that he hadn't been
+drinkin'. Just as we was about to call an ambulance, a gentleman in our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>
+building came along and reckonised him as young Mr. Tresslyn. Friend of
+Mr. Dodge's. That was enough for us. So I brings him around. Now it's up
+to you guys to look after him. Off his nut. My name's Jenks. Tell it to
+Mr. Dodge, will you? And git a doctor quick. Put your hand here on his
+head. Aw, he won't bite you! Put it <i>here</i>. Ever feel anything as hot as
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>Baffly arose to the occasion. "Mr. Dodge 'as been hexpecting Mr.
+Tresslyn. He will also be hexpecting you, Mr. Jenks, at six o'clock this
+evening."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Mr. Jenks.</p>
+
+<p>Baffly put George Tresslyn to bed and then called up Mr. Dodge's
+favourite club. He never called up the office except as a last resort.
+If Mr. Dodge wasn't to be found at any one of his nine clubs, or at
+certain restaurants, it was then time for calling up the office. Mr.
+Dodge was not in the club, but he had left word that if any one called
+him up he could be found at his office.</p>
+
+<p>"Put him to bed and send for Dr. Thorpe," was Simmy's order a few
+minutes later.</p>
+
+<p>"I've put 'im to bed, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Out of his head, you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I said, 'Put 'im to bed, sir,'" shouted Baffly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be home in half-an-hour, Baffly."</p>
+
+<p>Simmy called up Anne Thorpe at once and reported that George had been
+found and was now in his rooms. He would call up later on. She was not
+to worry,&mdash;and good-bye!</p>
+
+<p>It appears that George Tresslyn had been missing from the house near
+Washington Square since seven o'clock on the previous evening. At that
+hour he left his bed, to which Dr. Bates had ordered him, and made off
+in the cold, sleety night, delirious with the fierce<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> fever that was
+consuming him. As soon as his plight was discovered, Anne called up
+Simmy Dodge and begged him to go out in search of her sick, and now
+irresponsible brother. In his delirium, George repeatedly had muttered
+threats against Braden Thorpe for the cruel and inhuman "slashing of the
+most beautiful, the most perfect body in all the world," "marking for
+life the sweetest girl that God ever let live"; and that he would have
+to account to him for "the dirty work he had done."</p>
+
+<p>Acting on this hint, Simmy at once looked up Braden Thorpe and put him
+on his guard. Thorpe laughed at his fears, and promptly joined in the
+search for the sick man. They thought of Lutie, of course, and hurried
+to her small apartment. She was not at home. Her maidservant said that
+she did not know where she could be found. Mrs. Tresslyn had gone out
+alone at half-past seven, to dine with friends, but had left no
+instructions,&mdash;a most unusual omission, according to the young woman.</p>
+
+<p>It was a raw, gusty night. A fine, penetrating sleet cut the face, and
+the sharp wind drove straight to the marrow of the most warmly clad.
+Tresslyn was wandering about the streets, witless yet dominated by a
+great purpose, racked with pain and blind with fever, insufficiently
+protected against the gale that met his big body as he trudged doggedly
+into it in quest of&mdash;what? He had left Anne's home without overcoat,
+gloves or muffler. His fever-struck brain was filled with a resolve that
+deprived him of all regard for personal comfort or safety. He was out in
+the storm, looking for some one, and whether love or hate was in his
+heart, no man could tell.</p>
+
+<p>All night long Dodge and Thorpe looked for him, aided in their search by
+three or four private detectives<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> who were put on the case at midnight.
+At one o'clock the two friends reappeared at Lutie's apartment, summoned
+there by the detective who had been left on guard with instructions to
+notify them when she returned.</p>
+
+<p>It was from the miserable, conscience-stricken Lutie that they had an
+account of George's adventures earlier in the night. White-faced, scared
+and despairing, she poured out her unhappy tale of triumph over love and
+pity. The thing that she had longed for, though secretly dreaded, had
+finally come to pass. She had seen her former husband in the gutter,
+degraded, besotted, thoroughly reduced to the level from which nothing
+save her own loyal, loving efforts could lift him. She had dreamed of a
+complete conquest of caste, and the remaking of a man. She had dreamed
+of the day when she could pick up from the discarded of humanity this
+splendid, misused bit of rubbish and in triumph claim it as her own, to
+revive, to rebuild, to make over through the sure and simple processes
+of love! This had been Lutie Tresslyn's notion of revenge!</p>
+
+<p>She saw George at eight o'clock that night. As she stood in the shelter
+of the small canvas awning protecting the entrance to the building in
+which she lived, waiting for the taxi to pull up, her eyes searched the
+swirling shadows up and down the street. She never failed to look for
+the distant and usually indistinct figure of <i>her man</i>. It had become a
+habit with her. The chauffeur had got down to crank his machine, and
+there was promise of a no inconsiderable delay in getting the cold
+engine started. She was on the point of returning to the shelter of the
+hallway, when she caught sight of a tall, shambling figure crossing the
+street obliquely, and at once recognised George Tresslyn. He was
+staggering. The light from the entrance revealed his white,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> convulsed
+face. Her heart sank. She had never seen him so drunk, so disgusting as
+this! The taxi-cab was twenty or thirty feet away. She would have to
+cross a wet, exposed space in order to reach it before George could come
+up with her. She realised with a quiver of alarm that it was the first
+time in all these months that he had ventured to approach her. It was
+clear that he now meant to accost her,&mdash;he might even contemplate
+violence! She wanted to run, but her feet refused to obey the impulse.
+Fascinated she watched the unsteady figure lurching toward her, and the
+white face growing more and more distinct and forbidding as it came out
+of the darkness. Suddenly she was released from the spell. Like a flash
+she darted toward the taxi-cab. From behind came a hoarse cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Lutie! For God's sake&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Quick!" she cried out to the driver. "Open the door! Be quick!"</p>
+
+<p>The engine was throbbing. She looked back. George was supporting himself
+by clinging to one of the awning rods. His legs seemed to be crumbling
+beneath his weight. Her heart smote her. He had no overcoat. It was a
+bare hand that gripped the iron rod and a bare hand that was held out
+toward her. Thank heaven, he had stopped there! He was not coming on.</p>
+
+<p>"Lutie! Oh, Lutie!" came almost in a wail from his lips. Then he began
+to cry out something incoherent, maudlin, unintelligible.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind him," said the driver reassuringly. "Just a souse. Wants to
+make a touch, madam. Streets are full of 'em these cold nights. He won't
+bone you while I'm here. Where to?" He was holding the door open.</p>
+
+<p>Lutie hesitated. Long afterwards she recalled the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> strange impulse that
+came so near to sending her back to the side of the man who cried out to
+her from the depths of a bottomless pit. Something whispered from her
+heart that <i>now was her time</i>,&mdash;<i>now</i>! And then came the loud cry from
+her brain, drowning the timid voice of the merciful: "Wait! Wait! Not
+now! To-morrow!"</p>
+
+<p>And while she stood there, uncertain, held inactive by the two warring
+emotions, George turned and staggered away, reeling, and crying out in a
+queer, raucous voice.</p>
+
+<p>"They'll get him," said the driver.</p>
+
+<p>"Who will get him?" cried Lutie, shrilly.</p>
+
+<p>"The police. He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No! No! It must not be <i>that</i>. That's not what I want,&mdash;do you hear,
+driver? Not that. He must not be locked up&mdash;Oh!" George had collapsed.
+His knees went from under him and he was half-prostrate on the curb.
+"Oh! He has fallen! He has hurt himself! Go and see, driver. Go at
+once." She forgot the sleet and the wind, and stood there wide-eyed and
+terrified while the man shuffled forward to investigate. She hated him
+for stirring the fallen man with his foot, and she hated him when he
+shook him violently with his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"I better call a cop," said the man. "He's pretty full. He'll freeze
+if&mdash;I know how it is, ma'am. I used to hit it up a bit myself. I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Listen!" cried Lutie, regaining the shelter of the awning, where she
+stopped in great perturbation. "Listen; you must put him in your cab and
+take him somewhere. I will pay you. Here! Here is five dollars. Don't
+mind me. I will get another taxi. Be quick! There is a policeman coming.
+I see him,&mdash;there by&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Gee! I don't know where to take him. I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You can't leave him lying there in the gutter, man," she cried
+fiercely. "The gutter! The gutter! My God, what a thing to happen to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Here! Get up, you!" shouted the driver, shaking George's shoulder.
+"Come along, old feller. I'll look out for you. Gee! He weighs a ton."</p>
+
+<p>Tresslyn was mumbling, half audibly, and made little or no effort to
+help his unwilling benefactor, who literally dragged him to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Is&mdash;is he hurt?" cried Lutie, from the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"No. Plain souse."</p>
+
+<p>"Where will you take him?"</p>
+
+<p>The man reflected. "It wouldn't be right to take him to his home. Maybe
+he's got a wife. These fellers beat 'em up when they get like this."</p>
+
+<p>"A wife? Beat them up&mdash;oh, you don't know what you are saying. He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>At this juncture George straightened out his powerful figure, shook off
+the Samaritan and with a loud, inarticulate cry rushed off down the
+street. The driver looked after the retreating figure in utter
+amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"By Gosh! Why&mdash;why; he ain't any more drunk than I am," he gasped.
+"Well, can you beat that? All bunk! It beats thunder what these
+panhandlers will do to pick up a dime or two. He was&mdash;say, he saw the
+cop, that's what it was. Lord, look at him go!"</p>
+
+<p>Tresslyn was racing wildly toward the corner. Lutie, aghast at this
+disgusting exhibition of trickery, watched the flying figure of her
+husband. She never knew that she was clinging to the arm of the driver.
+She only knew that her heart seemed to have turned to lead. As he turned
+the corner and disappeared from view, she found her voice and it seemed
+that it was not her own.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> He had swerved widely and almost lost his feet
+as he made the turn. He <i>was</i> drunk! Her heart leaped with joy. He <i>was</i>
+drunk. He had not tried to trick her.</p>
+
+<p>"Go after him!" she cried out, shaking the man in her agitation. "Find
+him! Don't let him get away. I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But the policeman was at her elbow.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter here?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Panhandler," said the driver succinctly.</p>
+
+<p>"Just a poor wretch who&mdash;who wanted enough for&mdash;for more drink, I
+suppose," said Lutie, warily. Her heart was beating violently. She was
+immensely relieved by the policeman's amiable grunt. It signified that
+the matter was closed so far as he was concerned. He politely assisted
+her into the taxi-cab and repeated her tremulous directions to the
+driver. As the machine chortled off through the deserted street, she
+peered through the little window at the back. Her apprehensions faded.
+The officer was standing where she had left him.</p>
+
+<p>Then came Thorpe and Simmy Dodge in the dead hour of night and she
+learned that she had turned away from him when he was desperately ill.
+Sick and tortured, he had come to her and she had denied him. She looked
+so crushed, so pathetic that the two men undertook to convince her that
+she had nothing to fear,&mdash;they would protect her from George!</p>
+
+<p>She smiled wanly, shook her head, and confessed that she did not want to
+be protected against him. She wanted to surrender. She wanted <i>him</i> to
+protect her. Suddenly she was transformed. She sprang to her feet and
+faced them, and she was resolute. Her voice rang with determination, her
+lips no longer drooped and trembled, and the appeal was gone from her
+eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He must be found, Simmy," she said imperatively. "Find him and bring
+him here to me. This is his home. I want him here."</p>
+
+<p>The two men went out again, half an hour later, to scour the town for
+George Tresslyn. They were forced to use every argument at their command
+to convince her that it would be highly improper, in more ways than one,
+to bring the sick man to her apartment. She submitted in the end, but
+they were bound by a promise to take him to a hospital and not to the
+house of either his mother or his sister.</p>
+
+<p>"He belongs to me," she said simply. "You must do what I tell you to do.
+They do not want him. I do. When you have found him, call me up, Simmy,
+and I will come. I shall not go to bed. Thank you,&mdash;both of
+you,&mdash;for&mdash;for&mdash;" She turned away as her voice broke. After a moment she
+faced them again. "And you will take charge of him, Dr. Thorpe?" she
+said. "I shall hold you to your promise. There is no one that I trust so
+much as I do you."</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe was with the sick man when Simmy arrived at his apartment. George
+was rolling and tossing and moaning in his delirium, and the doctor's
+face was grave.</p>
+
+<p>"Pneumonia," he said. "Bad, too,&mdash;devilish bad. He cannot be moved,
+Simmy."</p>
+
+<p>Simmy did not blink an eye. "Then right here he stays," he said
+heartily. "Baffly, we shall have two nurses here for a while,&mdash;and we
+may also have to put up a young lady relative of Mr. Tresslyn's. Get the
+rooms ready. By Jove, Brady, he&mdash;he looks frightfully ill, doesn't he?"
+His voice dropped to a whisper. "Is he likely to&mdash;to&mdash;you know!"</p>
+
+<p>"I think you'd better send for Dr. Bates," said Braden gravely. "I
+believe his mother and sister will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> be better satisfied if you have him
+in at once, Simmy."</p>
+
+<p>"But Lutie expressly&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall do all that I can to redeem my promise to that poor little
+girl, but we must consider Anne and Mrs. Tresslyn. They may not have the
+same confidence in me that Lutie has. I shall insist on having Dr. Bates
+called in."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, if you insist. But&mdash;but you'll stick around, won't you,
+Brady?"</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe nodded his head. He was watching the sick man's face very
+closely.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later, Lutie Tresslyn and Anne Thorpe entered the elevator
+on the first floor of the building and went up together to the apartment
+of Simeon Dodge. Anne had lifted her veil,&mdash;a feature in her smart
+tribute to convention,&mdash;and her lovely features were revealed to the
+cast-off sister-in-law. For an instant they stared hard at each other.
+Then Anne, recovering from her surprise, bowed gravely and held out her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"May we not forget for a little while?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>Lutie shook her head. "I can't take your hand&mdash;not yet, Mrs. Thorpe. It
+was against me once, and I am afraid it will be against me again." She
+detected the faintest trace of a smile at the corners of Anne's mouth. A
+fine line appeared between her eyes. This fine lady could still afford
+to laugh at her! "I am going up to take care of my husband, Mrs.
+Thorpe," she added, a note of defiance in her voice. She was surprised
+to see the smile,&mdash;a gentle one it was,&mdash;deepen in Anne's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"That is why I suggested that we try to forget," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Lutie started. "You&mdash;you do not intend to object to my&mdash;" she began, and
+stopped short, her eyes searching Anne's for the answer to the
+uncompleted question.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I am not your enemy," said Anne quietly. She hesitated and then lowered
+the hand that was extended to push the button beside Simmy's door.
+"Before we go in, I think we would better understand each other, Lutie."
+She had never called the girl by her Christian name before. "I have
+nothing to apologise for. When you And George were married I did not
+care a pin, one way or the other. You meant nothing to me, and I am
+afraid that George meant but little more. I resented the fact that my
+mother had to give you a large sum of money. It was money that I could
+have used very nicely myself. Now that I look back upon it, I am frank
+to confess that therein lies the real secret of my animosity toward you.
+It didn't in the least matter to me whether George married you, or my
+mother's chambermaid, or the finest lady in the land. You will be
+surprised to learn that I looked upon myself as the one who was being
+very badly treated at the time. To put it rather plainly, I thought you
+were getting from my mother a great deal more than you were worth.
+Forgive me for speaking so frankly, but it is best that you should
+understand how I felt in those days so that you may credit me with
+sincerity now. I shall never admit that you deserved the thirty thousand
+dollars you took from us, but I now say that you were entitled to keep
+the man you loved and married. I don't care how unworthy you may have
+seemed to us, you should not have been compelled to take money for
+something you could not sell&mdash;the enduring love of that sick boy in
+there. My mother couldn't buy it, and you couldn't sell it. You have it
+still and always will have it, Lutie. I am glad that you have come to
+take care of him. You spoke of him as 'my husband' a moment ago. You
+were right. He <i>is</i> your husband. I,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> for one, shall not oppose you in
+anything you may see fit to do. We do not appear to have been capable of
+preserving what you gave back to us&mdash;for better or for worse, if you
+please,&mdash;so I fancy we'd better turn the job over to you. I hope it
+isn't too late. I love my brother now. I suppose I have always loved him
+but I overlooked the fact in concentrating my affection on some one
+else,&mdash;and that some one was myself. You see I do not spare myself,
+Lutie, but you are not to assume that I am ashamed of the Anne Tresslyn
+who was. I petted and coddled her for years and I alone made her what
+she was, so I shall not turn against her now. There is a great deal of
+the old Anne in me still and I coddle her as much as ever. But I've
+found out something new about her that I never suspected before, and it
+is this new quality that speaks to you now. I ask you to try to forget,
+Lutie."</p>
+
+<p>Throughout this long speech Lutie's eyes never left those of the tall
+young woman in black.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you call me Lutie?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Because it is my brother's name for you," said Anne.</p>
+
+<p>Lutie lowered her eyes for an instant. A sharp struggle was taking place
+within her. She had failed to see in Anne's eyes the expression that
+would have made compromise impossible: the look of condescension.
+Instead, there was an anxious look there that could not be mistaken. She
+was in earnest. She could be trusted. The old barrier was coming down.
+But even as her lips parted to utter the words that Anne wanted to hear,
+suspicion intervened and Lutie's sore, tried heart cried out:</p>
+
+<p>"You have come here to <i>claim</i> him! You expect me to stand aside and let
+you take him&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, no! He is yours. I <i>did</i> come to help him, to nurse him, to be a
+real sister to him, but&mdash;that was before I knew that you would come."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry I spoke as I did," said Lutie, with a little catch in her
+voice. "I&mdash;I hope that we may become friends, Mrs. Thorpe. If that
+should come to pass, I&mdash;am sure that I could forget."</p>
+
+<p>"And you will allow me to help&mdash;all that I can?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." Then quickly, jealously: "But he <i>belongs</i> to me. You must
+understand that, Mrs. Thorpe."</p>
+
+<p>Anne drew closer and whispered in sudden admiration. "You are really a
+wonderful person, Lutie Carnahan. How <i>can</i> you be so fine after all
+that you have endured?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose it is because I too happen to love myself," said Lutie drily,
+and turned to press the button. "We are all alike." Anne laid a hand
+upon her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait. You will meet my mother here. She has been notified. She has not
+forgiven you." There was a note of uneasiness in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>Lutie looked at her in surprise. "And what has that to do with it?" she
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Then they entered the apartment together.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>George Tresslyn pulled through.</p>
+
+<p>He was a very sick man, and he wanted to die. That is to say, he wanted
+to die up to a certain point and then he very much wanted to live.
+Coming out of his delirium one day he made a most incredible discovery,
+and at that very instant entered upon a dream that was never to end. He
+saw Lutie sitting at his bedside and he knew that it must be a dream. As
+she did not fade away then, nor in all the mysterious days that
+followed, he came to the conclusion that if he ever did wake up it would
+be the most horrible thing that could happen to him. It was a most
+grateful and satisfying dream. It included a wonderful period of
+convalescence, a delightful and ever-increasing appetite, a painless
+return voyage over a road that had been full of suffering on the way
+out, a fantastic experience in the matter of legs that wouldn't work and
+wobbled fearfully, a constant but properly subdued desire to sing and
+whistle&mdash;oh, it was a glorious dream that George was having!</p>
+
+<p>For six weeks he was the uninvited guest of Simmy Dodge. Three of those
+weeks were terrifying to poor Simmy, and three abounded with the
+greatest joy he had ever known, for when George was safely round the
+corner and on the road to recovery, the hospitality of Simmy Dodge
+expanded to hitherto untried dimensions. Relieved of the weight that had
+pressed them down to an inconceivable depth, Simmy's spirits popped
+upward with an effervescence so violent that there was absolutely no
+containing them. They flowed all over the place.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> All day long and most
+of the night they were active. He hated to go to bed for fear of missing
+an opportunity to do something to make everybody happy and comfortable,
+and he was up so early in the morning that if he hadn't been in his own
+house some one would have sent him back to bed with a reprimand.</p>
+
+<p>He revelled in the establishment of a large though necessarily
+disconnected family circle. The nurses, the doctors, the extra servants,
+Anne's maid, Anne herself, the indomitable Lutie, and, on occasions, the
+impressive Mrs. Tresslyn,&mdash;all of these went to make up Simmy's family.</p>
+
+<p>The nurses were politely domineering: they told him what he could do and
+what he could not do, and he obeyed them with a cheerfulness that must
+have shamed them. The doctors put all manner of restrictions upon him;
+the servants neglected to whisper when discussing their grievances among
+themselves; his French poodle was banished because canine hospitality
+was not one of the niceties, and furthermore it was most annoying to
+recent acquaintances engaged in balancing well-filled cups of broth in
+transit; his own luxurious bath-room was seized, his bed-chambers
+invested, his cosy living-room turned into a rest room which every one
+who happened to be disengaged by day or night felt free to inhabit. He
+had no privacy except that which was to be found in the little back
+bedroom into which he was summarily shunted when the occupation began,
+and he wasn't sure of being entirely at home there. At any time he
+expected a command to evacuate in favour of an extra nurse or a doctor's
+assistant. But through all of it, he shone like a gem of purest ray.</p>
+
+<p>At the outset he realised that his apartment, commodious when reckoned
+as a bachelor's abode, was entirely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> inadequate when it came to
+accommodating a company of persons who were not and never could be
+bachelors. Lutie refused to leave George; and Anne, after a day or two,
+came to keep her company. It was then that Simmy began to reveal signs
+of rare strategical ability. He invaded the small apartment of his
+neighbour beyond the elevator and struck a bargain with him. The
+neighbour and his wife rented the apartment to him furnished for an
+indefinite period and went to Europe on the bonus that Simmy paid. Here
+Anne and her maid were housed, and here also Mrs. Tresslyn spent a few
+nights out of each week.</p>
+
+<p>He studied the nurses' charts with an avid interest. He knew all there
+was to know about temperature, respiration and nourishment; and
+developing a sudden sort of lordly understanding therefrom, he harangued
+the engineer about the steam heat, he cautioned the superintendent about
+noises, and he held many futile arguments with God about the weather.
+Something told him a dozen times a day, however, that he was in the way,
+that he was "a regular Marceline," and that if Brady Thorpe had any
+sense at all he would order him out of the house!</p>
+
+<p>He began to resent the speed with which George's convalescence was
+marked. He was enjoying himself so immensely in his new environment that
+he hated to think of going back to the old and hitherto perfect order of
+existence. When Braden Thorpe and Dr. Bates declared one day that George
+would be able to go home in a week or ten days, he experienced a
+surprising and absolutely inexplicable sinking of the heart. He tried to
+persuade them that it would be a mistake to send the poor fellow out
+inside of a month or six weeks. That was the trouble with doctors, he
+said: they haven't any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> sense. Suppose, he argued, that George were to
+catch a cold&mdash;why, the damp, spring weather would raise the
+dickens&mdash;Anne's house was a drafty old barn of a place, improperly
+heated,&mdash;and any fool could see that if George <i>did</i> have a relapse it
+would go mighty hard with him. Subsequently he sounded the nurses,
+severally, on the advisability of abandoning the poor, weak young fellow
+before he was safely out of the woods, and the nurses, who were tired of
+the case, informed him that the way George was eating he soon would be
+as robust as a dock hand. An appeal to Mrs. Tresslyn brought a certain
+degree of hope. That lady declared, quite bitterly, that inasmuch as her
+son did not seem inclined to return to <i>her</i> home he might do a great
+deal worse than to remain where he was, and it was some time before
+Simmy grasped the full significance of the remark.</p>
+
+<p>He remembered hearing Lutie say that she was going to take George home
+with her as soon as he was able to be moved!</p>
+
+<p>What was he to do with himself after all these people were gone? For the
+first time in his life he really knew what it meant to have a home, and
+now it was to be broken up. He saw more of his home in the five or six
+weeks that George was there than he had seen of it all told in years. He
+stayed at home instead of going to the club or the theatre or to stupid
+dinner parties. He hadn't the faintest idea that a place where a fellow
+did nothing but sleep and eat bacon and eggs could be looked upon as a
+"home." He had thought of it only as an apartment, or "diggings." Now he
+loved his home and everything that was in it. How he would miss the
+stealthy blue linen nurses, and the expressionless doctors, and the
+odour of broths and soups, and the scent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> of roses, and the swish of
+petticoats, and the elevating presence of pretty women, and the
+fragrance of them, and the sweet chatter of them&mdash;Oh my, oh me-oh-my! If
+George would only get well in a more leisurely fashion!</p>
+
+<p>Certain interesting events, each having considerable bearing upon the
+lives of the various persons presented in this narrative, are to be
+chronicled, but as briefly as possible so that we may get on to the
+results.</p>
+
+<p>Naturally one turns first to the patient himself. He was the magnet that
+drew the various opposing forces together and, in a way, united them in
+a common enterprise, and therefore is of first importance. For days his
+life hung in the balance. Most of the time he was completely out of his
+head. It has been remarked that he thought himself to be dreaming when
+he first beheld Lutie at his bedside, and it now becomes necessary to
+report an entirely different sensation when he came to realise that he
+was being attended by Dr. Thorpe. The instant he discovered Lutie he
+manifested an immense desire to live, and it was this desire that
+sustained a fearful shock when his fever-free eyes looked up into the
+face of his doctor. Terror filled his soul. Almost his first rational
+words were in the form of a half-whispered question: "For God's sake,
+can't I get well? Is&mdash;is it hopeless?"</p>
+
+<p>Braden was never to forget the anguish in the sick man's eyes, nor the
+sagging of his limp body as if all of his remaining strength had given
+way before the ghastly fear that assailed him. Thorpe understood. He
+knew what it was that flashed through George's brain in that first
+moment of intelligence. His heart sank. Was it always to be like this?
+Were people to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> live in dread of him? His voice was husky as he leaned
+over and laid his hand gently upon the damp brow of the invalid.</p>
+
+<p>"You are going to get well, George. You will be as sound as a rock in no
+time at all. Trust me, old fellow,&mdash;and don't worry."</p>
+
+<p>"But that's what they always say," whispered George, peering straight
+into the other's eyes. "Doctors always say that. What are you doing
+here, Brady? Why have you been called in to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! You're all right. Don't get excited. I have been with you from
+the start. Ask Lutie&mdash;or Anne. They will tell you that you are all
+right."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to die," whined George. "I only want a fair chance. Give
+me a chance, Brady. I'll show you that I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" fell in agonised tones from Thorpe's lips, and he turned away
+as one condemned.</p>
+
+<p>When Lutie and Anne came into the room soon afterward, they found George
+in a state of great distress. He clutched Lutie's hand in his strong
+fingers and drew her down close to him so that he could whisper
+furtively in her ear.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't let any one convince you that I haven't a chance to get well,
+Lutie. Don't let him talk you into anything like that. I won't give my
+consent, Lutie,&mdash;I swear to God I won't. He can't do it without my
+consent. I've just got to get well. I can do it if I get half a chance.
+I depend on you to stand out against any&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Lutie managed to quiet him. Thorpe had gone at once to her with the
+story and she was prepared. For a long time she talked to the frightened
+boy, and at last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> he sank back with a weak smile on his lips, confidence
+partially restored.</p>
+
+<p>Anne stood at the head of the bed, out of his range of vision. Her heart
+was cold within her. It ached for the other man who suffered and could
+not cry out. <i>This</i> was but the beginning for him.</p>
+
+<p>In a day or two George's attitude toward Braden underwent a complete
+change, but all the warmth of his enthusiastic devotion could not drive
+out the chill that had entered Thorpe's heart on that
+never-to-be-forgotten morning.</p>
+
+<p>Then there were the frequent and unavoidable meetings of Anne and her
+former lover. For the better part of three weeks Thorpe occupied a room
+in Simmy's apartment, to be constantly near his one and only patient. He
+suffered no pecuniary loss in devoting all of his time and energy to
+young Tresslyn. Ostensibly he was in full charge of the case, but in
+reality he deferred to the opinions and advice of Dr. Bates, who came
+once a day. He had the good sense to appreciate his own lack of
+experience, and thereby earned the respect and confidence of the old
+practitioner.</p>
+
+<p>It was quite natural that he and Anne should come in contact with each
+other. They met in the sick-room, in the drawing-room, and frequently at
+table. There were times during the darkest hours in George's illness
+when they stood side by side in the watches of the night. But not once
+in all those days was there a word bearing on their own peculiar
+relationship uttered by either of them. It was plain that she had the
+greatest confidence in him, and he came, ere long, to regard her as a
+dependable and inspired help. Unlike the distracted, remorseful Lutie,
+she was the source of great inspiration to those who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> worked over the
+sick man. Thorpe marvelled at first and then fell into the way of
+resorting to her for support and encouragement. He had discovered that
+she was not playing a game.</p>
+
+<p>Templeton Thorpe's amazing will was not mentioned by either of them,
+although each knew that the subject lay uppermost in the mind of the
+other. The newspapers printed columns about the instrument. Reporters
+who laid in wait for Braden Thorpe, however, obtained no satisfaction.
+He had nothing to say. The same reporters fell upon Anne and wanted to
+know when she expected to start proceedings to have the will set aside.
+They seemed astonished to hear that there was to be no contest on her
+part. She could not tell them anything about the plans or intentions of
+Dr. Thorpe, and she had no opinion as to the ultimate effect of the
+"Foundation" upon the Constitution of the United States or the laws of
+God!</p>
+
+<p>As a matter of fact, she was more eager than any one else to know the
+stand that Braden intended to take on the all-absorbing question.
+Notwithstanding her peculiar position as executrix of the will under
+which the conditions were created, she could not bring herself to the
+point of discussing the salient feature of the document with him. And so
+there the matter stood, unmentioned by either of them, and absolutely
+unsettled so far as the man most deeply involved was concerned.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the day when Thorpe announced that it was no longer necessary
+for him to impose upon Simmy's hospitality, and that he was returning
+that evening to his hotel. George was out of danger. It was then that he
+said to Anne:</p>
+
+<p>"You have been wonderful, Anne. I want to thank you for what you have
+done to help me. You might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> have made the situation impossible,
+but&mdash;well, you didn't, that's all. I am glad that you and that poor
+little woman in there have become such good friends. You can do a great
+deal to help her&mdash;and George. She is a brick, Anne. You will not lose
+anything by standing by her now. As I said before, you can always reach
+me by telephone if anything goes wrong, and I'll drop in every morning
+to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to know, Braden, that I firmly believe you saved George for
+us. I shall not try to thank you, however. You did your duty, of course.
+We will let Lutie weep on your neck, if you don't mind, and you may take
+my gratitude for granted." There was a slightly satirical note in her
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>His figure stiffened. "I don't want to be thanked," he said,&mdash;"not even
+by Lutie. You must know that I did not come into this case from choice.
+But when Lutie insisted I&mdash;well, there was nothing else to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you have come if I had asked you?" she inquired, and was very
+much surprised at herself.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he answered. "You would have had no reason for selecting me, and I
+would have told you as much. And to that I would have added a very good
+reason why you shouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I may as well be frank, Anne. People,&mdash;our own friends,&mdash;are bound to
+discuss us pretty thoroughly from now on. No matter how well we may
+understand each other and the situation, the rest of the world will not
+understand, simply because it doesn't want to do so. It will
+wait,&mdash;rather impatiently, I fear,&mdash;for the chance to say, 'I told you
+so.' Of course, you are sensible enough to have thought of all this,
+still I don't see why I shouldn't speak of it to you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Has it occurred to you that our friends may be justified in thinking
+that I <i>did</i> call upon you to take this case, Braden?" she asked
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>He frowned. "I daresay that is true. I hadn't thought of it&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"They also believe that I summoned you to take charge of my husband a
+few weeks ago. No one has advised the world to the contrary. And now
+that you are here, in the same house with me, what do you suppose they
+will say?" A queer little smile played about her lips, a smile of
+diffidence and apology.</p>
+
+<p>He gave her a quick look of inquiry. "Surely no one will&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"They will say the Widow Thorpe's devotion to her brother was not her
+only excuse for moving into good old Simmy's apartment, and they will
+also say that Dr. Thorpe must be singularly without practice in order to
+give all of his time to a solitary case."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, for heaven's sake, Anne," he cried impatiently, "give people credit
+for having a little commonsense and charity. They&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't give them credit for having anything of the kind," she said
+coolly, "when it comes to discussing their fellow creatures. I hope you
+are not distressed, Braden. As you have said, people will discuss us. We
+cannot escape the consequences of being more or less public
+institutions, you and I. Of course they will talk about our being here
+together. I knew that when I came here three weeks ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why did you come?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>She replied with a directness that shamed him. "Because I do not want
+people to talk about Lutie. That is one reason. Another is that I wanted
+to do my share in looking after George." Suddenly her eyes narrowed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>
+"You&mdash;you do not imagine that I&mdash;I&mdash;you couldn't have thought <i>that</i> of
+me, Braden."</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head slowly. "If I had thought <i>that</i>, Anne, I should not
+have told you a moment ago that you were wonderful," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Few women would have been content to let it go at that. It is the
+prerogative of woman to expect more than a crumb, and, if it is not
+forthcoming from others, to gratify the appetite by feeding confidently
+upon herself. In this instance, Anne might have indulged herself in the
+comfort of a few tremulous words of self-justification, and even though
+they drew nothing in exchange, she would at least have had the pleasure
+of uttering them, and the additional satisfaction of knowing that he
+would have to listen to them, whether or no. But she was far too
+intelligent for that. Her good sense overcame the feminine craving; she
+surprised him by holding her tongue.</p>
+
+<p>He waited for a second or two and then said: "Good-bye. I shall drop in
+to-morrow to see George."</p>
+
+<p>She held out her hand. "He swears by you," she said, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>For the first time in more than a year, their hands touched. Up to this
+moment there had not been the remotest evidence of an inclination on the
+part of either to bridge the chasm that lay between them. The handclasp
+was firm but perfunctory. She had herself under perfect control. It is
+of importance to note, however, that later on she pressed her hand to
+her lips, and that there were many times during the day when she looked
+at it as if it were something unreal and apart from her own physical
+being.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank heaven he doesn't feel toward me as he did last week," he said
+fervently. "I shall never get over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> that awful moment. I shall never
+forget the look of despair that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know," she interrupted. "I saw it too. But it is gone now, so why
+make a ghost of it? Don't let it haunt you, Braden."</p>
+
+<p>"It is easy to say that I shouldn't let it&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If you are going to begin your life's work by admitting that you are
+thin-skinned, you'll not get very far, my friend," she said seriously.
+"Good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled faintly as she turned away. He was never quite sure whether
+it was encouragement or mockery that lay in her dark eyes when she
+favoured him with that parting glance. He stood motionless until she
+disappeared through the door that opened into the room where George was
+lying; his eyes followed her slender, graceful figure until she was gone
+from sight. His thoughts leaped backward to the time when he had held
+that lovely, throbbing, responsive body close in his arms, to the time
+when he had kissed those, sensitive lips and had found warmth and
+passion in them, to the time when he had drunk in the delicate perfume
+of her hair and the seductive fragrance of her body. That same slender,
+adorable body had been pressed close to his, and he had trembled under
+the enchantment it held.</p>
+
+<p>He went away plagued and puzzled by an annoying question that kept on
+repeating itself without answer; was it in his power now to rouse the
+old flame in her blood, to revive the tender fires that once consumed
+her senses when he caressed her? Would she be proof against him if he
+set out to reconquer? She seemed so serene, so sure of herself. Was it a
+pose or had love really died within her?</p>
+
+<p>By no means the least important of the happenings in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> Simmy's house was
+the short but decisive contest that took place between Lutie and Mrs.
+Tresslyn. They met first in the sick-room, and the shock was entirely
+one-sided. It was George's mother who sustained it. She had not expected
+to find the despised "outcast" there. For once her admirable
+self-control was near to being shattered. If she had been permitted to
+exercise the right of speech at that crucial moment, she would have
+committed the irretrievable error of denouncing the brazen creature in
+the presence of disinterested persons. Afterwards she thanked her lucky
+stars for the circumstances which compelled her to remain angrily
+passive, for she was soon to realise what such an outburst would have
+brought upon her head.</p>
+
+<p>She took it out on Anne, as if Anne were wholly to blame for the
+outrage. Anne had the temerity,&mdash;the insolence, Mrs. Tresslyn called
+it,&mdash;to advise her to make the best of a situation that could not be
+helped. She held forth at some length for her daughter's benefit about
+"common decency," and was further shocked by Anne's complacency.</p>
+
+<p>"I think she's behaving with uncommon decency," said Anne. "It isn't
+every one who would turn the other cheek like this. Let her alone. She's
+the best thing that can happen to George."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Tresslyn, aghast. "Of course, I shall not come
+to this apartment while she is here. That is out of the question."</p>
+
+<p>"Inasmuch as Lutie was here first and means to stay, I am afraid you
+will have to reconsider that decision, mother,&mdash;provided you want to be
+near George."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you speak of her as 'Lutie'?" demanded Mrs. Tresslyn, staring.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what else to call her," said Anne.</p>
+
+<p>"Simeon Dodge will appreciate my feelings,&mdash;my position&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Simmy is very much on her side, so I'd advise you to steer clear of
+him," said Anne impatiently. "Now, mother dear, don't upset things here.
+Don't make a fuss. Don't&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A fuss?" cried her mother, trying hard not to believe her ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't make it any harder for poor old Simmy. He is in for a rough time
+of it. Tresslyns everywhere! It isn't a lovely prospect, you know. He
+will be fed up with us before&mdash;And, mother, don't overlook the fact that
+George is very ill. He may not pull through. He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he will get well. He's as strong as an ox. Don't be silly."</p>
+
+<p>The next day she and Lutie met in the library and had it out,&mdash;briefly,
+as I said before, but with astounding clarity. Mrs. Tresslyn swept into
+the library at four in the afternoon, coming direct from her home,
+where, as she afterwards felt called upon to explain in self-defence,
+the telephone was aggravatingly out of order,&mdash;and that was why she
+hadn't called up to inquire!&mdash;(It is so often the case when one really
+wants to use the stupid thing!) She was on the point of entering the
+sick-room when Lutie came up from behind.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid you can't go in just now, Mrs. Tresslyn," she said, firmly
+and yet courteously.</p>
+
+<p>George's mother started as if stung. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and her tone
+was so declaratory that it was not necessary to add the unspoken&mdash;"it's
+<i>you</i>, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is asleep," said Lutie gently. "They won't even allow <i>me</i> to go
+in."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This was too much for Mrs. Tresslyn. She transfixed the slight,
+tired-eyed young woman with a look that would have chilled any one else
+to the bone&mdash;the high-bred look that never fails to put the lowly in
+their places.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed," she said, with infinite irony in her voice. "This is Miss
+Carnahan, I believe?" She lifted her lorgnon as a further aid to
+inspection.</p>
+
+<p>"I am the person you have always spoken of as Miss Carnahan," said Lutie
+calmly. Throughout the brief period in which she had been legally the
+wife of George Tresslyn, Lutie was never anything but Miss Carnahan to
+her mother-in-law. Mrs. Tresslyn very carefully forbore giving her
+daughter-in-law a respectable name. "I was afraid you might have
+forgotten me."</p>
+
+<p>"You will forgive me if I confess that I have tried very hard to forget
+you, Miss Carnahan," said the older woman.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't my fault that you haven't been able to do so," said Lutie.
+"Please! you are not to go in." Mrs. Tresslyn's hand was turning the
+door-knob.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear you are forgetting who I am," said she coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know you're his mother, and all that," said Lutie, breathlessly.
+"I do not question your right to be with your son. That isn't the point.
+The nurse has ordered your daughter and me out of the room for awhile.
+It is the first wink of sleep he has had in heaven knows how long. So
+you cannot go in and disturb him, Mrs. Tresslyn."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn's hand fell away from the knob. For a moment she regarded
+the tense, agitated girl in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Has it occurred to you to feel&mdash;if you can feel at all&mdash;that you may
+not be wanted here, Miss Carnahan?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> she said, deliberately cruel. She
+towered above her adversary.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you be kind enough to come away from the door?" said Lutie, wholly
+unimpressed. "It isn't very thick, and the sound of voices may
+penetrate&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my soul!" exclaimed Mrs. Tresslyn, staring. "Do you presume to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite so loud, if you please. Come over here if you want to talk to
+me, Mrs. Tresslyn. Nurse's orders, not mine. I don't in the least mind
+what you say to me, or what you call me, or anything, but I do entreat
+you to think of George."</p>
+
+<p>Greatly to her own surprise, Mrs. Tresslyn moved away from the door,
+and, blaming herself inwardly for the physical treachery that impelled
+her to do so, sat down abruptly in a chair on the opposite side of the
+room, quite as far removed from the door as even Lutie could have
+desired.</p>
+
+<p>Lutie did not sit down. She came over and stood before the woman who had
+once driven her out. Her face was white and her eyes were heavy from
+loss of sleep, but her voice was as clear and sharp as a bell.</p>
+
+<p>"We may as well understand each other, Mrs. Tresslyn," she said quietly.
+"Or, perhaps I'd better say that you may as well understand me. I still
+believe myself to be George's wife. A South Dakota divorce may be all
+right so far as the law is concerned, but it will not amount to
+<i>that</i>"&mdash;she snapped her fingers&mdash;"when George and I conclude to set it
+aside. I went out to that God-forsaken little town and stayed there for
+nearly a year, eating my heart out until I realised that it wasn't at
+all appetising. I lived up to my bargain, however. I made it my place of
+residence and I got my decree. I tore that hateful piece of paper up
+last night before I came here. You paid me thirty thousand dollars to
+give<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> George up, and he allowed you to do it. Now I have just this to
+say, Mrs. Tresslyn: if George gets well, and I pray to God that he may,
+I am going back to him, and I don't care whether we go through the form
+of marrying all over again or not. He is my husband. I am his wife.
+There never was an honest cause for divorce in our case. He wasn't as
+brave as I'd have liked him to be in those days, but neither was I. If I
+had been as brave as I am now, George wouldn't be lying in there a wreck
+and a failure. You may take it into your head to ask why I am here.
+Well, now you know. I'm here to take care of my husband."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn's steady, uncompromising gaze never left the face of the
+speaker. When Lutie paused after that final declaration, she waited a
+moment for her to resume.</p>
+
+<p>"There is, of course," said she levelly, "the possibility that my son
+may not get well."</p>
+
+<p>Lutie's eyes narrowed. "You mean that you'd rather see him die than&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Carnahan, I am compelled to speak brutally to you. I paid you to
+give up my son. You took the money I proffered and the divorce I
+arranged for. You agreed to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Just a moment, please. I took the money and&mdash;and <i>got out</i> in order to
+give George a chance to marry some one else and be happy. That was what
+you wanted, and what <i>you</i> promised me. You promised me that if I gave
+him up he would find some one else more worthy, that he would forget me
+and be happy, and that I would be forgotten inside of six months. Well,
+none of these things has happened. He hasn't found any one else, he
+still loves me, and he isn't happy. I am going back on my bargain, Mrs.
+Tresslyn, because you haven't carried out your part of it. If you think
+it was easy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> for me to give him up when I did, you are very much
+mistaken. But that wouldn't interest you, so I'll say no more about it.
+We'll come down to the present, if you don't mind, and see where we
+stand; George needs me now, but no more than he has needed me all along.
+I intend to stick to him like a leech from this time on, Mrs. Tresslyn.
+You had your chance to make <i>your</i> kind of a man out of him, and I guess
+you'll admit that you failed. Well, I'm going to begin where you were
+content to leave off. You treated me like a dog, and God knows you've
+treated George but little better, although perhaps you didn't know what
+you were doing to him. He is down and out. You didn't expect things to
+turn out as they have. You thought I'd be the one to go to the devil.
+Now I'll put it up to you squarely. I still have the thirty thousand you
+gave me. It is nicely invested. I have lived comfortably on the income.
+A few years ago I sold George to you for that amount. Well, I'll buy him
+back from you to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Buy my son from me?" gasped Mrs. Tresslyn.</p>
+
+<p>"You made it a business proposition three years ago, so I'll do the same
+now. I want to be fair and square with you. I'm going to take him back
+in any event, but I shall be a great deal better satisfied if you will
+let me pay for him."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn had recovered herself by this time. She gave the younger
+woman a frosty smile.</p>
+
+<p>"And I suppose you will expect to get him at a considerably reduced
+price," she said sarcastically, "in view of the fact that he is damaged
+goods."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall have back every penny, Mrs. Tresslyn," said Lutie, with
+dignity.</p>
+
+<p>"How ingenuous you are. Do you really believe that I will <i>sell</i> my son
+to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I sold him to you," said the other, stubbornly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn arose. "I think we would better bring this interview to an
+end, Miss Carnahan. I shall spare you the opinion I have formed of you
+in&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Just as you please, Mrs. Tresslyn," said Lutie calmly. "We'll consider
+the matter closed. George comes back to me at my own price. I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My son shall never marry you!" burst out Mrs. Tresslyn, furiously.</p>
+
+<p>Lutie smiled. "It's good to see you mad, Mrs. Tresslyn. It proves that
+you are like other people, after all. Give yourself a chance, and you'll
+find it just as easy to be glad as it is to be mad, now that you've let
+go of yourself a little bit."</p>
+
+<p>"You are insufferable! Be good enough to stand aside. I am going in to
+my son. He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If you are so vitally interested in him, how does it happen that you
+wait until four o'clock in the afternoon to come around to inquire about
+him? I've been here on the job since last night&mdash;and so has your
+daughter. But you? Where have you been all this time, Mrs. Tresslyn?"</p>
+
+<p>"God in heaven!" gasped Mrs. Tresslyn, otherwise speechless.</p>
+
+<p>"If I had a son I'd be with him day and night at&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The telephone was out of order," began Mrs. Tresslyn before she could
+produce the power to check the impulse to justify herself in the eyes of
+this brazen tormentor.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed?" said Lutie politely.</p>
+
+<p>"My son shall never marry you," repeated the other, helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," began Lutie slowly, a bright spot in each cheek, "all I have to
+say is that he will be extremely unfair to your grandchildren, Mrs.
+Tresslyn, if he doesn't."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>A ground-floor window in an apartment building in Madison Avenue, north
+of Fifty-ninth street, displayed in calm black lettering the name "Dr.
+Braden L. Thorpe, M.D." On the panel of a door just inside the main
+entrance there was a bit of gold-leaf information to the effect that
+office hours were from 9 to 10 <span class="smcap">A.M</span>. and from 2 to 4 <span class="smcap">P.M.</span> There was a
+reception room and a consultation room in the suite. The one was quite
+as cheerless and uninviting as any other reception room of its kind, and
+the other possessed as many of the strange, terrifying and more or less
+misunderstood devices for the prolongation of uncertainty in the minds
+of the uneasy. During office-hours there was also a doctor there.
+Nothing was missing from this properly placarded and admirably equipped
+office,&mdash;nothing at all except the patients!</p>
+
+<p>About the time that George Tresslyn fared forth into the world again,
+Thorpe hung out his shingle and sat himself down under his own gates to
+wait for the unwary. But no one came. The lame, the halt and even the
+blind had visions that were not to be dissipated by anything so trivial
+as a neat little sign in an office window. The name of Braden Thorpe was
+on the lips of every one. It was mentioned, not with horror or disgust,
+but as one speaks of the exalted genius whose cure for tuberculosis has
+failed, or of the man who found the North Pole by advertising in the
+newspapers, or of the books of Henry James. He was a person to steer
+clear of, that was all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Every newspaper in the country discussed him editorially,
+paragraphically, and as an article of news. For weeks after the death of
+Templeton Thorpe and the publication of his will, not a day passed in
+which Braden Thorpe's outlandish assault upon civilisation failed to
+receive its country-wide attention in the press. And when editorial
+writers, medical sharps, legal experts and grateful reporters failed to
+avail themselves of the full measure of space set apart for their
+gluttony, ubiquitous "Constant Reader" rushed into print under many
+aliases and enjoyed himself as never before.</p>
+
+<p>In the face of all this uproar, brought about by the posthumous
+utterance of old Templeton Thorpe, Braden had the courage,&mdash;or the
+temerity, if that is a truer word,&mdash;to put his name in a window and
+invite further attention to himself.</p>
+
+<p>The world, without going into the matter any deeper than it usually
+does, assumed that he who entered the office of Dr. Thorpe would never
+come out of it alive!</p>
+
+<p>The fact that Thorpe advocated something that could not conceivably
+become a reality short of two centuries made no impression on the world
+and his family. Dr. Thorpe believed that it was best to put sufferers
+out of their misery, and that was all there was to be said about the
+matter so far as Mr. Citizen was concerned.</p>
+
+<p>It would appear, therefore, that all of Templeton Thorpe's ideas, hopes
+and plans concerning the future of his grandson were to be shattered by
+his own lack of judgment and foresight. Without intending to do so he
+had deprived the young man of all that had been given him in the way of
+education, training and character. Young Thorpe might have lived down or
+surmounted the prejudice that his own revolutionary utterances<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> created,
+but he could never overcome the stupendous obstacle that now lay in his
+path.</p>
+
+<p>If Mr. Thorpe had hoped to create, or believed sincerely that it was
+possible to create, a force capable of overpowering the natural
+instincts of man, he had set for himself a task that could have but one
+result so far as the present was concerned, and it was in the present
+that Braden Thorpe lived, very far removed from the future that Mr.
+Thorpe appeared to be seeing from a point close by as he lay on his
+death-bed. He had completely destroyed the present usefulness of his
+grandson. He had put a blight upon him, and now he was sleeping
+peacefully where mockery could not reach him nor reason hold him to
+account.</p>
+
+<p>The letter that the old man left for his grandson's guidance was an
+affectionate apology, very skilfully worded, for having, in a way, left
+the bulk of his fortune to the natural heir instead of to the great,
+consuming public. True, he did not put this in so many words, but it was
+obvious to the young man, if not to others who saw and read, that he was
+very clear in his mind as to the real purport and intention of the
+clause covering the foundation. He was careful to avoid the slightest
+expression that might have been seized upon by the young man as evidence
+of treachery on his part in view of the solemn promise he had made to
+leave to him no portion of his estate. On the surface, this letter was
+a simple, direct appeal to Braden to abide by the terms of the will, and
+to consider the trust as sacred in spite of the absence of restrictions.
+To Braden, there was but one real meaning to the will: the property was
+his to have, hold or dispose of as he saw fit. He was at liberty either
+to use every dollar of it in carrying out the expressed sentiments of
+the testator,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> or to sit back luxuriously and console himself with the
+thought that nothing was really expected of him.</p>
+
+<p>The Foundation that received such wide-spread notice, and brought down
+upon his head, not the wrath but the ridicule of his fellow beings, was
+not to serve in any sense as a memorial to the man who provided the
+money with which the work was to be carried on. As a matter of fact, old
+Templeton Thorpe took very good care to stipulate plainly that it was
+not to be employed to any such end. He forbade the use of his name in
+any capacity except as one of the <i>supporters</i> of the movement. The
+whole world rose up at first and heaped anathemas on the name of
+Templeton Thorpe, and then, swiftly recovering its amiable tolerance of
+fools, forgot the dead and took its pleasure in "steering clear of the
+man who was left to hold the bag of gold," as some of the paragraphers
+would have it.</p>
+
+<p>The people forgot old Templeton, and they also became a bit hazy about
+the cardinal principle of the Foundation, much as they forget other
+disasters, but they did not forget to look upon Braden Thorpe as a
+menace to mankind.</p>
+
+<p>And so it was that after two months of waiting, he closed his office for
+the summer and disappeared from the city. He had not treated a solitary
+patient, nor had he been called in consultation by a single surgeon of
+his acquaintance, although many of them professed friendship for and
+confidence in him.</p>
+
+<p>Six weeks later Simmy Dodge located his friend in a small coast town in
+Maine, practically out of the reach of tourists and not at all
+accessible to motorists. He had taken board and lodging with a needy
+villager who was still honest, and there he sat and brooded over the
+curse that his own intelligence had laid upon him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> He had been there
+for a month or more before he lifted his head, figuratively speaking, to
+look at the world again,&mdash;and he found it still bright and sparkling
+despite his desire to have it otherwise in order that he might be
+recompensed for his mood. Then it was that he wrote to Simmy Dodge,
+asking him to sell the furnishings and appliances in his office, sublet
+the rooms, and send to him as soon as possible the proceeds of the sale.
+He confessed frankly and in his straightforward way that he was hard up
+and needed the money!</p>
+
+<p>Now, it should be remembered that Braden Thorpe had very little means of
+his own, a small income from his mother's estate being all that he
+possessed. He had been dependent upon his grandfather up to the day he
+died. Years had been spent in preparing him for the personal
+achievements that were to make him famous and rich by his own hand.
+Splendid ability and unquestioned earning power were the result of
+Templeton Thorpe's faith in the last of his race. But nothing was to
+come of it. His ability remained but his earning power was gone. He was
+like a splendid engine from which the motive power has been shut off.</p>
+
+<p>For weeks after leaving New York he had seen the world blackly through
+eyes that grasped no perspective. But he was young, he was made of the
+flesh that fights, and the spirit that will not down. He looked up from
+the black view that had held his attention so long, and smiled. It was
+not a gay smile but one in which there was defiant humour. After all,
+why shouldn't he smile? These villagers smiled cheerfully, and what had
+they in their narrow lives to cause them to see the world brightly? He
+was no worse off than they. If they could be content to live outside the
+world, why shouldn't he be as they? He was big and strong and young.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>
+The fellows who went out to sea in the fishing boats were no stronger,
+no better than he. He could do the things that they were doing, and they
+sang while they went to and from their work.</p>
+
+<p>It was the reviving spirit in him that opened his eyes to the lowly joys
+surrounding him. He found himself thinking with surprising interest that
+he could do what these men were doing and do it well, and after all what
+more can be expected of a man than that he should do some one thing
+well? He did not realise at the time that this small, mean ambition to
+surpass these bold fishermen was nothing less than the resurrection of
+dead hopes.</p>
+
+<p>And so, when Simmy Dodge walked in upon him one day, expecting to find a
+beaten, discouraged skulker, he was confronted by a sun-browned,
+bare-armed, bright-eyed warrior whose smile was that of the man who
+never laughs,&mdash;the grim smile of him who thinks.</p>
+
+<p>The lines in his face had deepened under the influence of sun and wind;
+there was a new, almost unnatural ruggedness about the man Simmy had
+seen less than two months before. The cheeks had the appearance of being
+sunken and there was an even firmer look to the strong chin and jaws
+than in the so recent past. Simmy looked at this new, hardy face and
+wondered whether two months in the rough world would do as much in
+proportion for his own self-despised countenance.</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe had been up since five o'clock in the morning. For two weeks he
+had started off every morning at that hour with his landlord for the
+timberlands above the town, where they spent the day hewing out the
+sills and beams for a new boat-house. Unskilled at such labor, his
+duties were not those of the practised workman, but rather those of the
+"handy man" upon whom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> falls the most arduous tasks as a rule. Thorpe's
+sinews were strained to the utmost in handling the long, unwieldy trunks
+of the fallen trees; his hands were blistered and his legs bruised, but
+the splendid muscles were no longer sore, nor was he so fatigued at
+day's-end that he could have "dropped in his tracks" right joyfully,&mdash;as
+he had felt like doing in the first week of his toiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll be jiggered," said Simmy, still holding Thorpe's hand as he
+backed away from him the better to take in this new and strange creature
+in overalls. Thorpe and his grizzled host had just come down from the
+woods with a load of pine logs, and had found the trim, immaculate
+little New Yorker waiting for them at the breakwater, directed thither
+by the housewife in the winding lane that was called High Street. "By
+the way, is your name Thorpe?" he added quizzically.</p>
+
+<p>"Yep," said the graduate of three great universities, gripping the
+little man's hand a trifle harder. "All that is left of me is named
+Thorpe, Simmy."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you&mdash;hired out as a&mdash;Good Lord, Brady, you're not as hard up as
+all that, are you?" Simmy's face was bleak with concern.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm doing it for the fun of the thing," said Thorpe. "Next week I'm
+going out with the boats. I say, Simmy, have you a cigarette about your
+person? I haven't had a&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later, Simmy was seated in the cool little front porch with
+its screen of vines, the scent of the sea filling his sensitive
+nostrils, and he was drinking buttermilk.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, see here, Brady, it's all damned tommyrot," he was saying,&mdash;and he
+had said something of the kind several times before in the course of
+their earnest conversation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> "There's just one course open to you, and
+that's the right one. You've got to come back to New York and look
+people in the eye and tell 'em to go to Gehenna if they don't like what
+you're doing. You can't go on living like this, no matter how much you
+love it now. You're not cut out for this sort of thing. Lordy, if I was
+as big and brutal looking as you are at this minute I'd stand up for
+myself against&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But you will not understand," repeated Thorpe doggedly. "If my
+attainments, as you call them, are to be of no value to me in helping
+mankind, what is there left for me to do but this? Didn't I have enough
+of it in those horrible two months down there to prove to me that they
+hate me? They&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You weren't so thin skinned as all this when you were writing those
+inspired articles of yours, were you? Confound you, Brady, you invited
+all of this, you brought it down upon your head with all that nonsense
+about&mdash;why, it was you who converted old Templeton Thorpe and here you
+are running away like a 'white-head.' Haven't you any back-bone?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's all very well, Simmy, but of what value is a back-bone in a case
+like mine? If I had ten back-bones I couldn't compel people to come to
+me for treatment or advice. They are afraid of me. I am a doctor, a
+surgeon, a friend to all men. But if they will not believe that I am
+their friend, how can I be of service to them?"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll get patients, and plenty of 'em too, if you'll just hang on and
+wait. They'll come to know that you wouldn't kill a cockroach if you
+could help it. You'll&mdash;what's the matter?" He broke off suddenly with
+this sharp question. A marked pallor had come over Thorpe's sunburnt
+face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Nothing&mdash;nothing at all," muttered the other. "The heat up there in the
+woods&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You must look out for that, old boy," said Simmy anxiously. "Go slow.
+You're only a city feller, as they'd say up here. What a God-forsaken
+place it is! Not more than two hundred miles from Boston and yet I was a
+whole day getting here."</p>
+
+<p>"It is peaceful, Simmy," said Thorpe.</p>
+
+<p>"I grant you that, by Jove. A fellow could walk in the middle of the
+street here for a solid year without being hit by an automobile. But as
+I was saying, you can make a place for yourself&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I should starve, old fellow. You forget that I am a poor man."</p>
+
+<p>"Rats! You've got twenty-five thousand dollars a year, if you'll only be
+sensible. There isn't another man in the United States who would be as
+finicky about it as you are, no matter how full of ideals and principles
+he may be stuffed."</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe looked up suddenly. His jaw was set hard and firm once more.
+"Don't you know what people would say about me if I were to operate and
+the patient died?&mdash;as some of them do, you know. They would say that I
+did it deliberately. I couldn't afford to lose in a single instance,
+Simmy. I couldn't take the chance that other surgeons are compelled to
+take in a great many cases. One failure would be sufficient. One&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"See here, you've just got to look at things squarely, Braden. You owe
+something to your grandfather if not to yourself. He left all that money
+for a certain, definite purpose. You can't chuck it. You've got to come
+to taw. You say that he took this means of leaving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> the money to you,
+that the trust thing is all piffle, and all that sort of thing. Well,
+suppose that it is true, what kind of a fool would you be to turn up
+your nose at six million dollars? There are all kinds of ways of looking
+at it. In the first place, he didn't leave it to you outright. It <i>is</i> a
+trust, or a foundation, and it has a definite end in view. You are the
+sole trustee, that's the point on which you elect to stick. You are to
+be allowed to handle this vast fortune as your judgment dictates, <i>as a
+trustee</i>, mind you. You forget that he fixed your real position rather
+clearly when he stipulated that you were to have a salary of twenty-five
+thousand dollars a year, and fees as a trustee. That doesn't look as
+though he left it to you without strings, does it?"</p>
+
+<p>For an hour they argued the great question. Simmy did not pretend that
+he accepted Braden's theories; in fact, he pronounced them shocking.
+Still, he contended, that was neither here nor there. Braden believed in
+them, and it wasn't any affair of his, after all.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe it is right for man to try to do God's work," said he,
+in explaining his objections. "But it doesn't matter what I think about
+it, old chap, so don't mind me."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you understand, Simmy, that I advocate a simple, direct means of
+relieving the&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, I understand," broke in Simmy agreeably.</p>
+
+<p>"Does God send the soldiers into battle, does he send the condemned man
+to the gallows? Man does that, doesn't he? If it is God's work to drop a
+small child into a boiling vat by accident, and if He fails to kill that
+child at once, why shouldn't it be the work of man to complete the job
+as quickly as possible? We shoot down the soldiers. Is that God's work?
+We hang the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> murderer. Is that God's work? Emperors and kings conduct
+their wars in the name of God and thousands of God's creatures go down
+to death. Do you believe that God approves of this slaughter of the
+strong and hardy? God doesn't send the man to the gallows nor the
+soldier to the fighting line. Man does that, and he does it because he
+has the power to do it, and he lives serene in the consolation that the
+great, good God will not hold him to account for what he has done. We
+legalise the killing of the strong; but not for humane reasons. Why
+shouldn't we legalise the killing of the weak for humane reasons? It may
+interest you to know, Simmy, that we men have more merciful ways of
+ending life than God Himself directs. Why prolong life when it means
+agony that cannot be ended except by the death that so certainly waits a
+few days or weeks beyond&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How can you be sure that a man is going to die? Doctors very frequently
+say that a person has no chance whatever, and then the fellow fools 'em
+and gets well."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not speaking of such cases. I only speak of the cases where there
+can be no doubt. There are such cases, you see. I would let Death take
+its toll, just as it has always done, and I would fight for my patient
+until the last breath was gone from his body. Two weeks ago a child was
+gored by a bull back here in the country. It was disembowelled. That
+child lived for many hours,&mdash;and suffered. That's what I mean, in
+substance. I too believe in the old maxim,&mdash;'while there's life there's
+hope.' That is the foundation on which our profession is built. A while
+ago you spoke of the extremely aged as possible victims of my theories.
+I suppose you meant to ask me if I would include them in my list. God
+forbid! To me there is nothing more beautiful than a happy, healthy,
+contented old age.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> We love our old people. If we love them we do not
+think of them as old. We want them to live,&mdash;just as I shall want to
+live, and you, Simmy. And we want them to die when their time comes, by
+God's hand not man's, for God does give them a peaceful, glorious end.
+But we don't want them to suffer, any more than we would want the young
+to suffer, I loved my grandfather. Death was a great boon to him. He
+wanted to die. But all old men do not want to die. They&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We're not getting anywhere with this kind of talk," interrupted Simmy.
+"The sum and substance is this: you would put it in the power of a few
+men to destroy human life on the representation of a few doctors. If
+these doctors said&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And why not? We put it into the power of twelve men to send a man to
+the gallows on the testimony of witnesses who may be lying like thieves.
+We take the testimony of doctors as experts in our big murder trials. If
+we believe some of them we hang the man because they say he is sane. On
+the other hand we frequently acquit the guilty man if they say he's
+insane."</p>
+
+<p>Simmy squinted a half-closed eye, calculatingly, judicially. "My dear
+fellow, the insane asylums in this country to-day hold any number of
+reasonably sane inmates, sent there by commissions which perhaps
+unintentionally followed out the plans of designing persons who were
+actuated solely by selfish and avaricious motives. Control of great
+properties falls into the hands of conspiring relatives simply because
+it happened to be an easy matter to get some one snugly into a
+madhouse." He said no more. Braden was allowed to draw his own
+conclusions.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I dare say people will go on putting obstacles out of their way
+till the end of time," said he coolly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> "If I covet your wife or your
+ass or your money-bags I put poison in your tea and you very obligingly
+die, and all that the law can do is to send me after you as soon as the
+lawyers have got through with me. That is no argument, Simmy. That sort
+of thing will go on forever."</p>
+
+<p>Finally Thorpe settled back in his chair resignedly, worn out by the
+persistent argument of his tormentor.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, suppose that I agree with all you say,&mdash;what then? Suppose that I
+take up my burden, as you say I should, and set out to bring the world
+around to my way of thinking, where am I to begin and how?"</p>
+
+<p>Simmy contrived to suppress the sigh of relief that rose to his lips.
+This was making headway, after all. Things looked brighter.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, it will take you a good many years to even make a
+beginning. You can't go right smack up against the world and say: 'Here,
+you, look sharp! I'm going to hit you in the eye.' In the first place,
+you will have to convince the world that you are a great, big man in
+your profession. You will have to cure ten thousand people before you
+can make the world believe that you are anybody at all. Then people will
+listen to you and what you say will have some effect. You can't do
+anything now. Twenty years from now, when you are at the top of your
+profession, you will be in a position to do something. But in the
+meantime you will have to make people understand that you can cure 'em
+if anybody can, so that when you say <i>you</i> can't cure 'em, they'll know
+it's final. I'm not asking you to renounce your ideas. You can even go
+on talking about them and writing to the newspapers and all that sort of
+thing, if you want to, but you've got to build up a reputation for
+yourself before you can begin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> to make use of all this money along the
+lines laid down for you. But first of all you must make people say that
+in spite of your theories you are a practical benefactor and not a
+plain, ordinary crank. Go on sowing the seed if you will, and then when
+the time comes found a college in which your principles may be safely
+and properly taught, and then see what people will say."</p>
+
+<p>"It sounds very simple, the way you put it," said Thorpe, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no other way, my friend," said Simmy earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe was silent for a long time, staring out over the dark waters of
+the bay. The sun had slipped down behind the ridge of hills to the south
+and west, and the once bright sea was now cold and sinister and
+unsmiling. The boats were stealing in from its unfriendly wastes.</p>
+
+<p>"I had not thought of it in that light, Simmy," he said at length. "My
+grandfather said it might take two hundred years."</p>
+
+<p>"Incidentally," said Simmy, shrewdly, "your grandfather knew what he was
+about when he put in the provision that you were to have twenty-five
+thousand dollars a year as a salary, so to speak. He was a far-seeing
+man. He knew that you would have a hard, uphill struggle before you got
+on your feet to stay. He may even have calculated on a lifetime, my
+friend. That's why he put in the twenty-five. He probably realised that
+you'd be too idiotic to use the money except as a means to bring about
+the millennium, and so he said to himself 'I'll have to do something to
+keep the damn' fool from starving.' You needn't have any scruples about
+taking your pay, old boy. You've got to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> live, you know. I think I've
+got the old gentleman's idea pretty&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let's drop the subject for to-night, Simmy," said Thorpe, coming
+to his feet. His chin was up and his shoulders thrown back as he
+breathed deeply and fully of the new life that seemed to spring up
+mysteriously from nowhere. "You'll spend the night with me. There is a
+spare bed and you'll&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't there a Ritz in the place?" inquired Simmy, scarcely able to
+conceal his joy.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so that you can notice it," replied Thorpe gaily. He walked to the
+edge of the porch and drank in more of that strange, puzzling air that
+came from vast distances and filled his lungs as they had never been
+filled before.</p>
+
+<p>Simmy watched him narrowly in the failing light. After a moment he sank
+back comfortably in the old rocking chair and smiled as a cat might
+smile in contemplating a captive mouse. The rest would be easy. Thorpe
+would go back with him. That was all that he wanted, and perhaps more
+than he expected. As for old Templeton Thorpe's "foundation," he did not
+give it a moment's thought. Time would attend to that. Time would kill
+it, so what was the use worrying. He prided himself on having done the
+job very neatly,&mdash;and he was smart enough to let the matter rest.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the news in town?" asked Braden, turning suddenly. There was a
+new ring in his voice. He was eager for news of the town!</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Simmy naively, "there is so much to tell I don't believe I
+could get it all out before dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"We call it supper, Simmy."</p>
+
+<p>"It's all the same to me," said Simmy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And after supper he told him the news as they walked out along the
+breakwater.</p>
+
+<p>Anne Thorpe was in Europe. She closed the house as soon as George was
+able to go to work, and went away without any definite notion as to the
+length of her stay abroad.</p>
+
+<p>"She's terribly upset over having to live in that old house down there,"
+said Simmy, "and I don't blame her. It's full of ghosts, good and bad.
+It has always been her idea to buy a big house farther up town. In fact,
+that was one of the things on which she had set her heart. I don't mind
+telling you that I'm trying to find some way in which she can chuck the
+old house down there without losing anything. She wants to give it away,
+but I won't listen to that. It's worth a hundred thousand if it's worth
+a nickel. So she closed the place, dismissed the servants and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"'Gad, my grandfather wouldn't like that," said Braden. "He was fond of
+Murray and Wade and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Murray has bought a saloon in Sixth Avenue and talks of going into
+politics. Old Wade absolutely refused to allow Anne to close up the
+house. He has received his legacy and turned it over to me for
+investment. Confound him, when I had him down to the office afterwards
+he as much as told me that he didn't want to be bothered with the
+business, and actually complained because I had taken him away from his
+work at that hour of the day. Anne had to leave him there as caretaker.
+I understand he is all alone in the house."</p>
+
+<p>"Anne is in Europe, eh? That's good," said Thorpe, more to himself than
+to his companion.</p>
+
+<p>"Never saw her looking more beautiful than the day she sailed," said
+Simmy, peering hard in the darkness at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> the other's face. "She hasn't
+had much happiness, Brady."</p>
+
+<p>"Umph!" was the only response, but it was sufficient to turn Simmy off
+into other channels.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you know that George and Lutie are married again."</p>
+
+<p>"Good! I'm glad to hear it," said Thorpe, with enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>"Married two weeks after George went to work in that big bank note
+company's plant. I got the job for him. He starts at the bottom, of
+course, but that's the right way for a chap like George to begin. He'll
+have to make good before he can go up an inch in the business. Fifteen a
+week. But he'll go up, Brady. He'll make good with Lutie to push from
+behind. Awful blow to Mrs. Tresslyn, however. He's a sort of clerk and
+has to wear sleeve papers and an eye-shade. I shall never forget the day
+that Lutie bought him back." Simmy chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>"Bought him back?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. She plunked thirty thousand down on the table in my office in
+front of Mrs. Tresslyn and said 'I sha'n't need a receipt, Mrs.
+Tresslyn. George is receipt enough for me.' I'd never seen Mrs. Tresslyn
+blush before, but she blushed then, my boy. Got as red as fire. Then she
+rose up in her dignity and said she wouldn't take the money. How was her
+son to live, she said, if Lutie deprived him of his visible means of
+support? Lutie replied that if George was strong enough to carry the
+washing back and forth from the customers', she'd manage to support him
+by taking in dirty linen. Then Mrs. Tresslyn broke down. Damme, Brady,
+it brought tears to my eyes. You don't know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> how affecting it is to see
+a high and mighty person like Mrs. Tresslyn humble herself like that.
+She didn't cry. I was the only one who cried, curse me for a silly ass.
+She just simply said that Lutie was the best and bravest girl in the
+world and that she was sorry for all that she had done to hurt her. And
+she asked Lutie to forgive her. Then Lutie put her arm around her and
+called her an old dear. I didn't see any more on account of the infernal
+tears. But Lutie wouldn't take back the money. She said that it didn't
+belong to her and that she couldn't look George in the face if she kept
+it. So that's how it stands. She and George have a tiny little apartment
+'way up town,&mdash;three rooms, I believe, and so far she hasn't taken in
+anybody's washing. Anne wants to refund the money to Lutie, but doesn't
+know how to go about it. She&mdash;er&mdash;sort of left it to me to find the way.
+Lordy, I seem to get all of the tough jobs."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a brick, Simmy," said Thorpe, laying his arm across the little
+man's shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Heigh-ho!" sighed Simmy. Later on, as they returned through the fog
+that was settling down about them, he inquired: "By the way, will you be
+ready to start back with me to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lord love you, no," cried Thorpe. "I've agreed, to help old man
+Stingley with the boat house. I'll come down in three weeks, Simmy."</p>
+
+<p>"Lordy, Lordy!" groaned Simmy, dejectedly. "Three weeks in this
+God-forsaken place? I'll die, Brady."</p>
+
+<p>"You? What are you talking about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you don't suppose I'm going back without you, do you?"</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Anne Thorpe remained in Europe for a year, returning to New York shortly
+before the breaking out of the Great War. She went to the Ritz, where
+she took an apartment. A day or two after her arrival in the city, she
+sent for Wade.</p>
+
+<p>"Wade," she said, as the old valet stood smirking before her in the
+little sitting-room, "I have decided not to re-open the house. I shall
+never re-open it. I do not intend to live there."</p>
+
+<p>The man turned a sickly green. His voice shook a little. "Are&mdash;are you
+going to close it&mdash;for good,&mdash;madam?"</p>
+
+<p>"I sent for you this morning to inquire if you are willing to continue
+living there as caretaker until&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You may depend on me, Mrs. Thorpe, to&mdash;" he broke in eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;until I make up my mind what to do with the property," she concluded.</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated, clearing his throat. "I beg pardon for mentioning it,
+ma'am, but the will said that you would have to live in the house and
+that you may not sell it or do anything&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know," she interrupted shortly. "I sha'n't sell the house, of course.
+On the other hand, I do not intend to live in it. I don't care what
+becomes of it, Wade."</p>
+
+<p>"It's worth a great deal of money," he ventured.</p>
+
+<p>She was not interested. "But so am I," she said curtly. "By the way, how
+have you fared, Wade?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> You do not look as though you have made the best
+of your own good fortune. Are you not a trifle thinner?"</p>
+
+<p>The man looked down at the rug. "I am quite well, thank you. A little
+older, of course,&mdash;that's all. I haven't had a sick day in years."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you stay on in service? You have means of your own,&mdash;quite a
+handy fortune, I should say. I cannot understand your willingness, to
+coop yourself up in that big old house, when you might be out seeing
+something of life, enjoying your money and&mdash;you are a very strange
+person, Wade."</p>
+
+<p>He favoured her with his twisted smile. "We can't all be alike, madam,"
+he said. "Besides, I couldn't see very much of life with my small pot of
+gold. I shall always stick to my habit, I suppose, of earning my daily
+bread."</p>
+
+<p>"I see. Then I may depend upon you to remain in charge of the house?
+Whenever you are ready to give it up, pray do not hesitate to come to
+me. I will release you, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"I may possibly live to be ninety," he said, encouragingly.</p>
+
+<p>She stared. "You mean&mdash;that you will stay on until you die?"</p>
+
+<p>"Seeing that you cannot legally sell the house,&mdash;and you will not live
+in it,&mdash;I hope to be of service to you to the end of my days, madam.
+Have you considered the possibility of some one setting up a claim to
+the property on account of your&mdash;er&mdash;violation of the terms of the
+will?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should be very happy if some one were to do so, Wade," she replied
+with a smile. "I should not oppose the claim. Unfortunately there is no
+one to take the step. There are no disgruntled relatives."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ahem! Mr. Braden, of course, might&mdash;er&mdash;be regarded as a&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Thorpe will not set up a claim, Wade. You need not be disturbed."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no one else, of course," said he, with a deep breath of
+relief.</p>
+
+<p>"No one. I can't even <i>give</i> it away. I shall go on paying taxes on it
+all my life, I daresay. And repairs and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Repairs won't be necessary, ma'am, unless you have a complaining
+tenant. I shall manage to keep the place in good order."</p>
+
+<p>"Are your wages satisfactory, Wade?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite, madam." Sometimes he remembered not to say "ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"And your food, your own personal comforts, your&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't worry about me, madam. I make out very well."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are all alone there? All alone in that dark, grim old house?
+Oh, how terribly lonely it must be. I&mdash;" she shivered slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a scrub-woman in twice a month, and Murray comes to see me once
+in awhile. I read a great deal."</p>
+
+<p>"And your meals?"</p>
+
+<p>"I get my own breakfast, and go down to Sixth Avenue for my luncheons
+and dinners. There is an excellent little restaurant quite near, you
+see,&mdash;conducted by a very estimable Southern lady in reduced
+circumstances. Her husband is a Northerner, however, and she doesn't see
+a great deal of him. I understand he is a person of very uncertain
+habits. They say he gambles. Her daughter assists her with the business.
+She&mdash;but,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> I beg pardon; you would not be interested in them."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad that you are contented, Wade. We will consider the matter
+settled, and you will go on as heretofore. You may always find me here,
+if you desire to communicate with me at any time."</p>
+
+<p>Wade looked around the room. Anne's maid had come in and was employed in
+restoring a quantity of flowers to the boxes in which they had been
+delivered. There were roses and violets and orchids in profusion.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Thorpe took note of his interest. "You will be interested to hear,
+Wade, that my sister-in-law is expecting a little baby very soon. I am
+taking the flowers up to her flat."</p>
+
+<p>"A baby," said Wade softly. "That will be fine, madam."</p>
+
+<p>After Wade's departure, Anne ordered a taxi, and, with the half dozen
+boxes of flowers piled up in front of her, set out for George's home. On
+the way up through the park she experienced a strange sense of
+exaltation, a curious sort of tribute to her own lack of selfishness in
+the matter of the flowers. This feeling of self-exaltation was so
+pleasing to her, so full of promise for further demands upon her newly
+discovered nature, that she found herself wondering why she had allowed
+herself to be cheated out of so much that was agreeable during all the
+years of her life! She was now sincerely in earnest in her desire to be
+kind and gentle and generous toward others. She convinced herself of
+that in more ways than one. In the first place, she enjoyed thinking
+first of the comforts of others, and secondly of herself. That in itself
+was most surprising to her. Up to a year or two ago she would have
+deprived herself of nothing unless there was some personal satisfaction
+to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> be had from the act, such as the consciousness that the object of
+her kindness envied her the power to give, or that she could pity
+herself for having been obliged to give without return. Now she found
+joy in doing the things she once abhorred,&mdash;the unnecessary things, as
+she had been pleased to describe them.</p>
+
+<p>She loved Lutie,&mdash;and that surprised her more than anything else. She
+did not know it, but she was absorbing strength of purpose,
+independence, and sincerity from this staunch little woman who was
+George's wife. She would have cried out against the charge that Lutie
+had become an Influence! It was all right for Lutie to have an influence
+on the character of George, but&mdash;the thought of anything nearer home
+than that never entered her head.</p>
+
+<p>As a peculiar&mdash;and not especially commendable&mdash;example of her present
+state of unselfishness, she stopped for luncheon with her pretty little
+sister-in-law, and either forgot or calmly ignored the fact that she had
+promised Percy Wintermill and his sister to lunch with them at Sherry's.
+And later on, when Percy complained over the telephone she apologised
+with perfect humility,&mdash;surprising him even more than she surprised
+herself. She did not, however, feel called upon to explain to him that
+she had transferred his orchids to Lutie's living-room. That was another
+proof of her consideration for others. She knew that Percy's feelings
+would have been hurt.</p>
+
+<p>Lutie was radiantly happy. Her baby was coming in a fortnight.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall have the very best doctor in New York," said Anne, caressing
+the fair, tousled head. Her own heart was full.</p>
+
+<p>"We're going to have Braden Thorpe," said Lutie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Anne started. "But he is not&mdash;What you want, Lutie, is a specialist.
+Braden is&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He's good enough for me," said Lutie serenely. Possibly she was
+astonished by the sudden, impulsive kiss that Anne bestowed upon her,
+and the more fervent embrace that followed.</p>
+
+<p>That afternoon Anne received many callers. Her home-coming meant a great
+deal to the friends who had lost sight of her during the period of
+preparation that began, quite naturally, with her marriage to Templeton
+Thorpe, and was now to bear its results. She would take her place once
+more in the set to which she belonged as a Tresslyn.</p>
+
+<p>Alas, for the memory of old Templeton Thorpe, her one-time intimates in
+society were already speaking of her,&mdash;absently, of course,&mdash;as Anne
+Tresslyn. The newspapers might continue to allude to her as the
+beautiful Mrs. Thorpe, but that was as far as it would go. Polite
+society would not be deceived. It would not deny her the respectability
+of marriage, to be sure, but on the other hand, it wouldn't think of her
+as having been married to old Mr. Thorpe. It might occasionally give a
+thought or two to the money that had once been Mr. Thorpe's, and it
+might go so far as to pity Anne because she had been stupid or
+ill-advised in the matter of a much-discussed ante-nuptial arrangement,
+but nothing could alter the fact that she had never ceased being a
+Tresslyn, and that there was infinite justice in the restoration of at
+least one of the Tresslyns to a state of affluence. It remains to be
+seen whether Society's estimate of her was right or wrong.</p>
+
+<p>Her mother came in for half an hour, and admitted that the baby would be
+a good thing for poor George.</p>
+
+<p>"I am rather glad it is coming," she said. "I shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> know what to do
+with that hateful money she forced me to take back."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn lifted her lorgnon. "Have you forgotten, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I haven't. But what <i>do</i> you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is perfectly simple, Anne. I mean that as soon as this baby comes I
+shall settle the whole of that thirty thousand dollars upon it, and have
+it off my mind forever. Heaven knows it has plagued me to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;but, mother, can you afford to do anything so&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, it may interest you to know that your mother possesses a great
+deal of that abomination known as pride. I have not spent so much as a
+penny of Lutie Car&mdash;of my daughter-in-law's money. You look surprised.
+Have you been thinking so ill of me as that? Did you believe that I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Anne threw her arms about her mother's neck, and kissed her rapturously.</p>
+
+<p>"I see you <i>did</i> believe it of me," said Mrs. Tresslyn drily. Then she
+kissed her daughter in return. "I haven't been able to look my
+daughter-in-law in the face since she virtually threw all that money
+back into mine. I've been almost distracted trying to think of a way to
+force it back upon her, so that I might be at peace with myself. This
+baby will open the way. It will simplify everything. It shall be worth
+thirty thousand dollars in its own right the day it is born."</p>
+
+<p>Anne was beaming. "And on that same day, mother dear, I will replace the
+amount that you turn over to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You will do nothing of the kind," said Mrs. Tresslyn sharply. "I am not
+doing this thing because I am kind-hearted, affectionate, or even
+remorseful. I shall do it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> because it pleases me, and not for the sake
+of pleasing any one else. Now we'll drop the subject. I do hope,
+however, that if George doesn't take the trouble to telephone me within
+a reasonable time after his child comes into the world&mdash;say within a day
+or two&mdash;I hope you will do so."</p>
+
+<p>"Really, mother, you are a very wonderful person," said Anne, rather
+wide-eyed.</p>
+
+<p>"No more wonderful, my dear, than Lutie Carnahan, if you will pause for
+a moment to think of what <i>she</i> did."</p>
+
+<p>"She is very proud, and very happy," said Anne dubiously. "She and
+George may refuse to accept this&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Anne," interrupted her mother calmly, "pray let me remind you
+that Lutie is no fool. And now, tell me something about your plans.
+Where are you going for the summer?"</p>
+
+<p>"That depends entirely on where my nephew wants to spend the heated
+term," said Anne brightly. "I shall take him and Lutie into the country
+with me."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn winced. "It doesn't sound quite so terrible as grandson,
+at any rate," she remarked, considering the first sentence only.</p>
+
+<p>"I do hope it will be a boy," mused Anne.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe I could love her if she gave us a boy," said the other. "I am
+beginning to feel that we need more men in the family."</p>
+
+<p>One of the last to drop in during the afternoon to welcome Anne back to
+the fold was the imposing and more or less redoubtable Mrs. Wintermill,
+head of the exclusive family to which Percy belonged. Percy's father was
+still alive but he was a business man, and as such he met his family as
+he would any other liability: when necessary.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wintermill's first remark after saying that she was glad to see
+Anne looking so well was obviously the result of a quick and searching
+glance around the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't Percy here?" she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>Anne had just had an uncomfortable half minute on the telephone with
+Percy. "Not unless he is hiding behind that couch over there, Mrs.
+Wintermill," she said airily. "He is coming up later, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"I was to meet him here," said Mrs. Wintermill, above flippancy. "Is it
+five o'clock?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Anne. Mrs. Wintermill smiled again. She was puzzled a little
+by the somewhat convulsive gurgle that burst from Anne's lips. "I beg
+your pardon. I just happened to think of something." She turned away to
+say good-bye to the last of her remaining visitors,&mdash;two middle-aged
+ladies who had not made her acquaintance until after her marriage to
+Templeton Thorpe and therefore were not by way of knowing Mrs.
+Wintermill without the aid of opera-glasses. "Do come and see me again."</p>
+
+<p>"Who are they?" demanded Mrs. Wintermill before the servant had time to
+close the door behind the departing ones. She did not go to the trouble
+of speaking in an undertone.</p>
+
+<p>"Old friends of Mr. Thorpe's," said Anne. "Washington Square people.
+More tea, Ludwig. How well you are looking, Mrs. Wintermill. So good of
+you to come."</p>
+
+<p>"We wanted to be among the first&mdash;if not the very first&mdash;to welcome you
+home, Jane. Percy said to me this morning before he left for the office:
+'Mother, you must run in and see Jane Tresslyn to-day.' Ahem! Dear me, I
+seem to have got into the habit of dropping things every time I move.
+Thanks, dear. Ahem! As<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> I was saying, I said to Percy this morning: 'I
+must run in and see Jane Tresslyn to-day.' And Percy said that he would
+meet me here and go on to the&mdash;Do you remember the Fenns? The Rumsey
+Fenns?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes. I've been away only a year, you know, Mrs. Wintermill."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems ages. Well, the Fenns are having something or other for a
+French woman,&mdash;or a man, I'm not quite sure,&mdash;who is trying to introduce
+a new tuberculosis serum over here. I shouldn't be the least bit
+surprised to see it publicly injected into Mr. Fenn, who, I am told, has
+everything his wife wants him to have. My daughter was saying only a day
+or two ago that Rumsey Fenn,&mdash;we don't know them very well, of
+course,&mdash;naturally, we wouldn't, you know&mdash;er&mdash;what was I saying? Ah,
+yes; Percy declared that the city would be something like itself once
+more, now that you've come home, Jennie. I beg your pardon;&mdash;which is it
+that you prefer? I've quite forgotten. Jennie or Jane?"</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't in the least matter, Mrs. Wintermill," said Anne amiably.
+"There isn't much choice."</p>
+
+<p>"How is your mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite well, thank you. And how is Mr. Wintermill?"</p>
+
+<p>"As I was saying, Mrs. Fenn dances beautifully. Percy,&mdash;he's really
+quite silly about dancing,&mdash;Percy says she's the best he knows. I do not
+pretend to dance all of the new ones myself, but&mdash;Did you inquire about
+Mr. Wintermill? He's doing it, too, as they say in the song. By the way,
+I should have asked before: how is your mother? I haven't seen her in
+weeks. Good heavens!" The good lady actually turned pale. "It was your
+husband who died, wasn't it? Not your&mdash;but,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> of course, <i>not</i>. What a
+relief. You say she's well?"</p>
+
+<p>"You barely missed her. She was here this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"So sorry. It <i>is</i> good to have you with us again, Kate. How pretty you
+are. Do you like the Ritz?"</p>
+
+<p>A bell-boy delivered a huge basket of roses at the door at this
+juncture. Mrs. Wintermill eyed them sharply as Ludwig paused for
+instructions. Anne languidly picked up the detached envelope and looked
+at the card it contained.</p>
+
+<p>"Put it on the piano, Ludwig," she said. "They are from Eddie
+Townshield," she announced, kindly relieving her visitor's curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>"Really," said Mrs. Wintermill. She sent a very searching glance around
+the room once more. This time she was not looking for Percy, but for
+Percy's tribute. She was annoyed with Percy. What did he mean by not
+sending flowers to Anne Tresslyn? In her anger she got the name right.
+"Orchids are Percy's favourites, Anne. He never sends anything but
+orchids. He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He sent me some gorgeous orchids this morning," said Anne.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wintermill looked again, even squinting her eyes. "I suppose they
+<i>aren't</i> very hardy at this time of the year. I've noticed they
+perish&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, these were exceedingly robust," interrupted Anne. "They'll live for
+days." Her visitor gave it up, sinking back with a faint sigh. "I've had
+millions of roses and orchids and violets since I landed. Every one has
+been so nice."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wintermill sat up a little straighter in her chair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> "New York men
+are rather punctilious about such things," she ventured. It was an
+inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>"Captain Poindexter, Dickie Fowless, Herb. Vandervelt,&mdash;oh, I can't
+remember all of them. The room looked like Thorley's this morning."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wintermill could not stand it any longer. "What have you done with
+them, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>Anne enjoyed being veracious. "I took a whole truckload up to my
+sister-in-law. She's going to have a baby."</p>
+
+<p>Her visitor stiffened. "I was not aware that you had a sister-in-law.
+Mr. Thorpe was especially free from relatives."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, this is George's wife. Dear little Lutie Carnahan, don't you know?
+She's adorable."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" oozed from the other's lips. "I&mdash;I think I do recall the fact that
+George was married while in college. It is very nice of you to share
+your flowers with her. I loathed them, however, when Percy and Elaine
+were coming. It must be after five, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two minutes after," said Anne.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so. I wonder what has become of&mdash;Oh, by the way, Jane, Percy
+was saying the other day that Eddie Townshield has really been thrown
+over by that silly little Egburt girl. He was frightfully gone on her,
+you know. You wouldn't know her. She came out after you went into
+retirement. That's rather good, isn't it? Retirement! I must tell that
+to Percy. He thinks I haven't a grain of humour, my dear. It bores him,
+I fancy, because he is so witty himself. And heaven knows he doesn't get
+it from his father. That reminds me, have you heard that Captain
+Poindexter is about to be dismissed from the army on account of that
+affair with Mrs. Coles last winter? The government<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> is very strict
+about&mdash;Ah, perhaps that is Percy now."</p>
+
+<p>But it was not Percy,&mdash;only a boy with a telegram.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you pardon me?" said Anne, and tore open the envelope. "Why, it's
+from Percy."</p>
+
+<p>"From&mdash;dear me, what is it, Anne? Has anything happened&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Just a word to say that he will be fifteen or twenty minutes late,"
+said Anne drily.</p>
+
+<p>"He is the most thoughtful boy in&mdash;But as I was saying, Herbie
+Vandervelt's affair with Anita Coles was the talk of the town last
+winter. Every one says that he will not marry her even though Coles
+divorces her. How I hate that in men. They are not all that sort, thank
+God. I suppose the business in connection with the estate has been
+settled, hasn't it? As I recall it, the will was a very simple one,
+aside from that ridiculous provision that shocked every one so much. I
+think you made a great mistake in not contesting it, Annie. Percy says
+that it wouldn't have stood in any court. By the way, have you seen
+Braden Thorpe?" She eyed her hostess rather narrowly.</p>
+
+<p>"No," was the reply. "It hasn't been necessary, you know. Mr. Dodge
+attended to everything. My duties as executrix were trifling. My report,
+or whatever you call it, was ready months ago."</p>
+
+<p>"And all that money? I mean, the money that went to Braden. What of
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>"It did not go to Braden, Mrs. Wintermill," said Anne levelly. "It is in
+trust."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wintermill smiled. "Oh, nothing will come of that," she said.
+"Percy says that you could bet your boots that Braden would have
+contested if things had been the other way round."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I don't know," said Anne briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"I hear that he is hanging on in spite of what the world says about him,
+trying to get a practice. Percy sees him quite frequently. He's really
+sorry for him. When Percy likes a person nothing in the world can turn
+him against&mdash;why, he would lend him money as long as his own lasted.
+He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Has Braden borrowed money from Percy?" demanded Anne quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not say that he had, my dear," said the other reprovingly. "I
+merely said that he would lend it to him in any amount if he asked for
+it. Of course, Braden would probably go to Simmy Dodge in case of&mdash;they
+are almost inseparable, you know. Simmy has been quite a brick, sticking
+to him like this. My dear,"&mdash;leaning a little closer and lowering her
+voice on Ludwig's account,&mdash;"do you know that the poor fellow didn't
+have a patient for nearly six months? People wouldn't go near him. I
+hear that he has been doing better of late. I think it was Percy who
+said that he had operated successfully on a man who had gall stones. Oh,
+yes, I quite forgot that Percy says he has twenty-five thousand dollars
+a year as wages for acting as trustee. I fancy he doesn't hesitate to
+use it to the best advantage. As long as he has that, I dare say he will
+not starve or go naked."</p>
+
+<p>Receiving no response from Anne, she took courage and playfully shook
+her finger at the young woman. "Wasn't there some ridiculous talk of an
+adolescent engagement a few years ago? How queer nature is! I can't
+imagine you even being interested in him. So soggy and emotionless, and
+you so full of life and verve and&mdash;Still they say he is completely
+wrapped up in his profession, such as it is. I've always said that a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>
+daughter of mine should never marry a doctor. As a matter of fact, a
+doctor never should marry. No woman should be subjected to the life that
+a doctor's wife has to lead. In the first place, if he is any good at
+all in his profession, he can't afford to give her any time or thought,
+and then there is always the danger one runs from women patients. You
+never could be quite sure that everything was all right, don't you know.
+Besides, I've always had a horror of the infectious diseases they may be
+carrying around in their&mdash;why, think of small-pox and diphtheria and
+scarlet fever! Those diseases&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Mrs. Wintermill," interrupted Anne, with a smile, "I am not
+thinking of marrying a doctor."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you are not," said Mrs. Wintermill promptly. "I wasn't
+thinking of that. I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Besides, there is a lot of difference between a surgeon and a regular
+practitioner. Surgeons do not treat small-pox and that sort of thing.
+You couldn't object to a surgeon, could you?" She spoke very sweetly and
+without a trace of ridicule in her manner.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a horror of surgeons," said the other, catching at her purse as
+it once more started to slip from her capacious lap. She got it in time.
+"Blood on their hands every time they earn a fee. No, thank you. I am
+not a sanguinary person."</p>
+
+<p>All of which leads up to the belated announcement that Mrs. Wintermill
+was extremely desirous of having the beautiful and wealthy widow of
+Templeton Thorpe for a daughter-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you know that James,&mdash;but naturally you wouldn't know, having
+just landed, my dear Jane. You haven't seen Braden Thorpe, so it isn't
+likely that you could have heard. I fancy he isn't saying much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> about
+it, in any event. The world is too eager to rake up things against him
+in view of his extraordinary ideas on&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You were speaking of James, but <i>what</i> James, Mrs. Wintermill?"
+interrupted Anne, sensing.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wintermill lowered her voice. "Inasmuch as you are rather closely
+related to Braden by marriage, you will be interested to know that he is
+to perform a very serious operation upon James Marraville." There was no
+mistaking the awe in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"The banker?"</p>
+
+<p>"The great James Marraville," said Mrs. Wintermill, suddenly passing her
+handkerchief over her brow. "He is said to be in a hopeless condition,"
+she added, pronouncing the words slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I had not heard of it, Mrs. Wintermill," murmured Anne, going cold
+to the very marrow.</p>
+
+<p>"Every one has given him up. It is terrible. A few days ago he sent for
+Braden Thorpe and&mdash;well, it was announced in the papers that there will
+be an operation to-morrow or the next day. Of course, he cannot survive
+it. That is admitted by every one. Mr. Wintermill went over to see him
+last night. He was really shocked to find Mr. Marraville quite cheerful
+and&mdash;contented. I fancy you know what that means."</p>
+
+<p>"And Braden is going to operate?" said Anne slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"No one else will undertake it, of course," said the other, something
+like a triumphant note in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"What a wonderful thing it would be for Braden if he were to succeed,"
+cried Anne, battling against her own sickening conviction. "Think what
+it would mean if he were to save the life of a man so important as James
+Marraville,&mdash;one of the most talked-of men in the country. It would&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But he will not save the man's life," said Mrs. Wintermill
+significantly. "I do not believe that Marraville himself expects that."
+She hesitated for an instant. "It is really dreadful that Braden should
+have achieved so much notoriety on account of&mdash;I <i>beg</i> your pardon!"</p>
+
+<p>Anne had arisen and was standing over her visitor in an attitude at once
+menacing and theatric. The old lady blinked and caught her breath.</p>
+
+<p>"If you are trying to make me believe, Mrs. Wintermill, that Braden
+would consent to&mdash;But, why should I insult him by attempting to defend
+him when no defence is necessary? I know him well enough to say that he
+would not operate on James Marraville for all the money in the world
+unless he believed that there was a chance to pull him through." She
+spoke rapidly and rather too intensely for Mrs. Wintermill's peace of
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>"That is just what Percy says," stammered the older woman hastily. "He
+believes in Braden. He says it's all tommyrot about Marraville paying
+him to put him out of his misery. My dear, I don't believe there is a
+more loyal creature on earth than Percy Wintermill. He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Percy was announced at that instant. He came quickly into the room and,
+failing utterly to see his mother, went up to Anne and inquired what the
+deuce had happened to prevent her coming to luncheon, and why she didn't
+have the grace to let him know, and what did she take him for, anyway.</p>
+
+<p>"Elaine and I stood around over there for an hour,&mdash;an hour, do you get
+that?&mdash;biting everything but food, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm awfully sorry, Percy," said Anne calmly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> "I wouldn't offend Elaine
+for the world. She's&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Elaine? What about me? Elaine took it as a joke, confound her,&mdash;but I
+didn't. Now see here, Anne, old girl, you know I'm not in the habit of
+being&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Here is your mother, Percy," interrupted Anne coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello! You still waiting for me, mother? I say, what do you think
+Anne's been doing to your angel child? Forgetting that he's on earth,
+that's all. Now, where were you, Anne, and what's the racket? I'm not in
+the habit of being&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I forgot all about it, Percy," confessed Anne deliberately. She was
+conscious of a sadly unfeminine longing to see just how Percy's nose
+<i>could</i> look under certain conditions. "I couldn't say that to you over
+the phone, however,&mdash;could I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Anne's sister-in-law is expecting a baby," put in Mrs. Wintermill
+fatuously. This would never do! Percy ought to know better than to say
+such things to Anne. What on earth had got into him? Except for the
+foregoing effort, however, she was quite speechless.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that got to do with it?" demanded Percy, chucking his gloves
+toward the piano. He faced Anne once more, prepared to insist on full
+satisfaction. The look in her eyes, however, caused him to refrain from
+pursuing his tactics. He smiled in a sickly fashion and said, after a
+moment devoted to reconstruction: "But, never mind, Anne; I was only
+having a little fun bullying you. That's a man's privilege, don't you
+know. We'll try it again to-morrow, if you say so."</p>
+
+<p>"I have an engagement," said Anne briefly. The next instant she smiled.
+"Next week perhaps, if you will allow me the privilege of forgetting
+again."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I say!" said Percy, blinking his eyes. How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> was he to take that
+sort of talk? He didn't know. And for fear that he might say the wrong
+thing if he attempted to respond to her humour, he turned to his mother
+and remarked: "Don't wait for me, mother. Run along, do. I'm going to
+stop for a chat with Anne."</p>
+
+<p>As Mrs. Wintermill went out she met Simmy Dodge in the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you mind, Simmy dear, coming down to the automobile with me?" she
+said quickly. "I&mdash;I think I feel a bit faint."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll drive home with you, if you like," said the good Simmy,
+solicitously.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>She saw by the evening papers that the operation on Marraville was to
+take place the next day. That night she slept but little. When her maid
+roused her from the slumber that came long after the sun was up, she
+immediately called for the morning papers. In her heart she was hoping,
+almost praying that they would report the death of James Marraville
+during the night. Then, as she read with burning eyes, she found herself
+hoping against hope that the old man would, at the last moment, refuse
+to undergo the operation, or that some member of his family would
+protest. But even as she hoped, she knew that there would be no
+objection on the part of either Marraville or his children. He was an
+old man, he was fatally ill, he was through with life. There would be no
+obstacle placed in the way of Death. His time had come and there was no
+one to ask for a respite. He would die under the knife and every one
+would be convinced that it was for the best. As she sat up in bed,
+staring before her with bleak, unseeing eyes, she had an inward vision
+of this rich man's family counting in advance the profits of the day's
+business! Braden Thorpe was to be the only victim. He was to be the one
+to suffer. Two big tears grew in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
+She had never loved Braden Thorpe as she loved him now.</p>
+
+<p>She knew that he was moved by honest intentions. That he confidently
+believed he could preserve this man's life she would not for an instant
+doubt. But why had he agreed to undertake the feat that other men had
+declared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> was useless, the work that other men had said to be absolutely
+unnecessary? A faint ray of comfort rested on the possibility that these
+great surgeons, appreciating, the wide-spread interest that naturally
+would attend the fate of so great a man as James Marraville, were loth
+to face certain failure, but even that comfort was destroyed by an
+intelligence that argued for these surgeons instead of against them.
+They had said that the case was hopeless. They were honest men. They had
+the courage to say: "This man must die. It is God's work, not ours," and
+had turned away. They were big men; they would not operate just for the
+sake of operating. And when they admitted that it was useless they were
+convincing the world that they were honourable men. Therefore,&mdash;she
+almost ground her pretty teeth at the thought of it,&mdash;old Marraville and
+his family had turned to Braden Thorpe as one without honour or
+conscience!</p>
+
+<p>She had never been entirely free from the notion that her husband's
+death was the result of premeditated action on the part of his grandson,
+but in that instance there was more than professional zeal in the heart
+of the surgeon: there was love and pity and gentleness in the heart of
+Braden Thorpe when he obeyed the command of the dying man. If he were to
+come to her now, or at any time, with the confession that he had
+deliberately ended the suffering of the man he loved, she would have put
+her hand in his and looked him in the eye while she spoke her words of
+commendation. Templeton Thorpe had the right to appeal to him in his
+hour of hopelessness, but this other man&mdash;this mighty Marraville!&mdash;what
+right had he to demand the sacrifice? She had witnessed the suffering of
+Templeton Thorpe, she had prayed for death to relieve him; he had
+called<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> upon her to be merciful, and she had denied him. She wondered if
+James Marraville had turned to those nearest and dearest to him with the
+cry for mercy. She wondered if the little pellets had been left at his
+bedside. She knew the extent of his agony, and yet she had no pity for
+him. He was not asking for mercy at the hands of a man who loved him and
+who could not deny him. He was demanding something for which he was
+willing to pay, not with love and gratitude, but with money. Would he
+look up into Braden's eyes and say, "God bless you," when the end was at
+hand?</p>
+
+<p>Moved by a sudden irresistible impulse she flung reserve aside and
+decided to make an appeal to Braden. She would go to him and plead with
+him to spare himself instead of this rich old man. She would go down on
+her knees to him, she would humble and humiliate herself, she would cry
+out her unwanted love to him....</p>
+
+<p>At nine o'clock she was at his office. He was gone for the day, the
+little placard on the door informed her. Gone for the day! In her
+desperation she called Simmy Dodge on the telephone. He would tell her
+what to do. But Simmy's man told her that his master had just gone away
+in the motor with Dr. Thorpe,&mdash;for a long ride into the country.
+Scarcely knowing what she did she hurried on to Lutie's apartment, far
+uptown.</p>
+
+<p>"What on earth is the matter, Anne?" cried the gay little wife as her
+sister-in-law stalked into the tiny drawing-room and threw herself
+dejectedly upon a couch. Lutie was properly alarmed and sympathetic.</p>
+
+<p>It was what Anne needed. She unburdened herself.</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Lutie cheerfully, "supposing he should save the old codger's
+life, what then? Why do you look at the black side of the thing? While
+there's life, there's hope. You don't imagine for an instant that Dr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>
+Thorpe is going into this big job with an idea of losing his patient, do
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>Anne's eyes brightened. A wave of relief surged into her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Lutie, Lutie, do you really believe that Braden thinks he can save
+him?"</p>
+
+<p>Lutie's eyes opened very wide. "What in heaven's name are you saying?
+You don't suppose he's thinking of anything else, do you?" A queer,
+sinking sensation assailed her suddenly. She remembered. She knew what
+was in Anne's mind. "Oh, I see! You&mdash;" she checked the words in time. An
+instant later her ready tongue saved the situation. "You don't seem to
+understand what a golden opportunity this is for Braden. Here is a case
+that every newspaper in the country is talking about. It's the chance of
+a lifetime. He'll do his best, let me tell you that. If Mr. Marraville
+dies, it won't be Braden's fault. You see, he's just beginning to build
+up a practice. He's had a few unimportant cases and he's&mdash;well, he's
+just beginning to realise that pluck and perseverance will do 'most
+anything for a fellow. Now, here comes James Marraville, willing to take
+a chance with him&mdash;because it's the only chance left, I'll admit,&mdash;and
+you can bet your last dollar, Anne, that Braden isn't going to make a
+philanthropic job of it."</p>
+
+<p>"But if he fails, Lutie,&mdash;if he fails don't you see what the papers will
+say? They will crush him to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why should they? Bigger men than he have failed, haven't they?"</p>
+
+<p>"But it will ruin Braden forever. It will be the end of all his hopes,
+all his ambitions. <i>This</i> will convict him as no other&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, don't get excited, dear," cautioned the other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> gently. "You're
+working yourself into an awful state. I think I understand, Anne. You
+poor old girl!"</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to know, Lutie. I want some one to know what he is to me, in
+spite of everything."</p>
+
+<p>Then Lutie sat down beside her and, after deliberately pulling the pins
+from her visitor's hat, tossed it aimlessly in the direction of a
+near-by chair,&mdash;failing to hit it by several feet,&mdash;and drew the smooth,
+troubled head down upon her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Stay and have luncheon with George and me," she said, after a half hour
+of confidences. "It will do you good. I'll not breathe a word of what
+you've said to me,&mdash;not even to old George. He's getting so nervous
+nowadays that he comes home to lunch and telephones three or four times
+a day. It's an awful strain on him. He doesn't eat a thing, poor dear.
+I'm really quite worried about him. Take a little snooze here on the
+sofa, Anne. You must be worn out. I'll cover you up&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The door-bell rang.</p>
+
+<p>Lutie started and her jaw fell. "Good gracious! That's&mdash;that's Dr.
+Thorpe now. He is the only one who comes up without being announced from
+downstairs. Oh, dear! What shall I&mdash;Don't you think you'd better see
+him, Anne?"</p>
+
+<p>Anne had arisen. A warm flush had come into her pale cheeks. She was
+breathing quickly and her eyes were bright.</p>
+
+<p>"I will see him, Lutie. Would you mind leaving us alone together for a
+while? I must make sure of one thing. Then I'll be satisfied."</p>
+
+<p>Lutie regarded her keenly for a moment. "Just remember that you can't
+afford to make a fool of yourself," she said curtly, and went to the
+door. A most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> extraordinary thought entered Anne's mind, a distinct
+thought among many that were confused: Lutie ought to have a
+parlour-maid, and she would make it her business to see that she had one
+at once. Poor, plucky little thing! And then the door was opened and
+Thorpe walked into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, how are we this morning?" he inquired cheerily, clasping Lutie's
+hand. "Fine, I see. I happened to be passing with Simmy and thought I'd
+run in and see&mdash;" His gaze fell upon the tall, motionless figure on the
+opposite side of the room, and the words died on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"It's Anne," said Lutie fatuously.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment there was not a sound or a movement in the little room. The
+man was staring over Lutie's head at the slim, elegant figure in the
+modish spring gown,&mdash;it was something smart and trig, he knew, and it
+was not black. Then he advanced with his hand extended.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to see you back, Anne. I heard you had returned." Their hands
+met in a brief clasp. His face was grave, and a queer pallor had taken
+the place of the warm glow of an instant before.</p>
+
+<p>"Three days ago," she said, and that was all. Her throat was tight and
+dry. He had not taken his eyes from hers. She felt them burning into her
+own, and somehow it hurt,&mdash;she knew not why.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's good to see you," he mumbled, finding no other words. He
+pulled himself together with an effort. He had not expected to see her
+here. He had dreamed of her during the night just past. "Simmy is
+waiting down below in the car. I just dropped in for a moment. Can't
+keep him waiting, Lutie, so I'll&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you spare me a few moments, Braden?" said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> Anne steadily. "There
+is something that I must say to you. To-morrow will not do. It must be
+now."</p>
+
+<p>He looked concerned. "Has anything serious&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing&mdash;yet," she broke in, anticipating his question.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, Braden," said Lutie cheerfully. "I'll make myself scarce. I
+see you are down for a big job to-day. Good boy! I told you they'd come
+your way if you waited long enough. It is a big job, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ra-<i>ther</i>," said he, smiling. "I daresay it will make or break me."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think you'd be frightfully nervous."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm not, strange to say. On the contrary, I'm as fit as a
+fiddle."</p>
+
+<p>"When do you&mdash;perform this operation?" Anne asked, as Lutie left the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>"This afternoon. He has a superstition about it. Doesn't want it done
+until after banking hours. Queerest idea I've ever known." He spoke in
+quick, jerky sentences.</p>
+
+<p>She held her breath for an instant, and then cried out imploringly: "I
+don't want you to do it, Braden,&mdash;I don't want you to do it. If not for
+my sake, then for your own you must refuse to go on with it."</p>
+
+<p>He looked straight into her troubled, frightened eyes. "I suppose you
+are like the rest of them: you think I'm going to kill him, eh?" His
+voice was low and bitter.</p>
+
+<p>She winced, half closing her eyes as if a blow had been aimed at them.
+"Oh, don't say that! How horrible it sounds when you&mdash;<i>speak it</i>."</p>
+
+<p>He could see that she was trembling, and suddenly experienced an odd
+feeling of contentment. He had seen it in her eyes once more: the love
+that had never faltered although dragged in the dirt, discredited and
+betrayed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> She still loved him, and he was glad to know it. He could
+gloat over it.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not afraid to speak it, as you say," he said curtly. Then he
+pitied her. "I'm sorry, Anne. I shouldn't have said it. I think I
+understand what you mean. It's good of you to care. But I am going ahead
+with it, just the same." His jaw was set in the old, resolute way.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know what they will say if you&mdash;fail?" Her voice was husky.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know. I also know why they finally came to me. They haven't any
+hope. They believe that I may&mdash;well, at least I will not say <i>that</i>,
+Anne. Down in their hearts they all hope,&mdash;but it isn't the kind of hope
+that usually precedes an operation. No one has dared to suggest to me
+that I put him out of his misery, but that's what they're
+expecting,&mdash;all of them. But they are going to be disappointed. I do not
+owe anything to James Marraville. He is nothing to me. I do not love him
+as I loved my grandfather."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke slowly, with grave deliberation; there was not the slightest
+doubt that he intended her to accept this veiled explanation of his
+present attitude as a confession that he had taken his grandfather's
+life.</p>
+
+<p>She was silent. She understood. He went on, more hurriedly:</p>
+
+<p>"I can only say to you, Anne, that my grandfather might have gone on
+living for a few weeks or even months. Well, there is no reason why
+Marraville shouldn't go on living for awhile. Do you see what I mean? He
+shall not die to-day if I can help it. He will hang on for weeks, not
+permanently relieved but at least comforted in the belief that his case
+isn't hopeless. I shall do my best." He smiled sardonically.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> "The
+operation will be called a success, and he will merely go on dying
+instead of having it all over with."</p>
+
+<p>She closed her eyes. "Oh, how cruel it is," she murmured. "How cruel it
+is, after all."</p>
+
+<p>"He will curse me for failing to do my duty," said he grimly. "The world
+will probably say that I am a benefactor to the human race, after all,
+and I will be called a great man because I allow him a few more weeks of
+agony. I may fail, of course. He may not survive the day. But no one
+will be justified in saying that I did not do my best to tide him over
+for a few weeks or months. And what a travesty it will be if I do
+succeed! Every one except James Marraville will praise me to the skies.
+My job will be done, but he will have it all to do over again,&mdash;this
+business of dying."</p>
+
+<p>She held out her hand. Her eyes had filled with tears.</p>
+
+<p>"God be with you, Braden." He took her hand in his, and for a moment
+looked into the swimming eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You understand <i>everything</i> now, don't you, Anne?" he inquired. His
+face was very white and serious. He released her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she answered; "I understand everything. I am glad that you have
+told me. It&mdash;it makes no difference; I want you to understand that,
+Braden."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to her that he would never speak. He was regarding her
+thoughtfully, evidently weighing his next words with great care.</p>
+
+<p>"Three doctors know," he said at last. "They must never find out that
+you know."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes flashed through the tears. "I am not afraid to have the world
+know," she said quickly.</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head, smiling sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"But I am," he said. It was a long time before she grasped the full
+significance of this surprising admission.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> When, hours afterward, she
+came to realise all that it meant she knew that he was not thinking of
+himself when he said that he was afraid. He was thinking of her; he had
+thought of her from the first. Now she could only look puzzled and
+incredulous. It was not like him to be afraid of consequences.</p>
+
+<p>"If you are afraid," she demanded quickly, "why do you invite peril this
+afternoon? The chances are against you, Braden. Give it up. Tell them
+you cannot&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"This afternoon?" he broke in, rather violently. "Good God, Anne, I'm
+not afraid of what is going to happen this afternoon. Marraville isn't
+going to die to-day, poor wretch. I can't afford to let him die." He
+almost snarled the words. "I have told these people that if I fail to
+take him through this business to-day, I'll accept no pay. That is
+understood. The newspapers will be so informed in case of failure. You
+are shocked. Well, it isn't as bad as it sounds. I am in deadly earnest
+in this matter. It is my one great chance. It means more to me to save
+James Marraville's life than it means to him. I'm sorry for him, but he
+has to go on living, just the same. Thank you for being interested.
+Don't worry about it. I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The evening papers will tell me how it turns out," she said dully. "I
+shall pray for you, Braden."</p>
+
+<p>He turned on her savagely. "Don't do that!" he almost shouted. "I don't
+want your support. I&mdash;" Other words surged to his lips but he held them
+back. She drew back as if he had struck her a blow in the face. "I&mdash;I
+beg your pardon," he muttered, and then strode across the room to thump
+violently on the door to Lutie's bed-chamber. "Come out! I'm going.
+Can't keep the nation waiting, you know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Two minutes later Anne and Lutie were alone. The former, inwardly shaken
+despite an outward appearance of composure, declined to remain for
+luncheon, as she had done the day before. Her interest in Lutie and her
+affairs was lost in the contemplation of a reviving sense of
+self-gratification, long dormant but never quite unconscious. She had
+recovered almost instantly from the shock produced by his violent
+command, and where dismay had been there was now a warm, grateful rush
+of exultation. She suspected the meaning of that sudden, fierce lapse
+into rudeness. Her heart throbbed painfully, but with joyous relief. It
+was not rudeness on his part; on the contrary he was paying tribute to
+her. He was dismayed by the feelings he found himself unable to conquer.
+The outburst was the result of a swift realisation that she still had
+the power to move him in spite of all his mighty resolves, in spite even
+of the contempt he had for her.</p>
+
+<p>She walked to the Ritz. It was a long distance from George's home, but
+she went about it gladly in preference to the hurried, pent-up journey
+down by taxi or stage. She wanted to be free and unhampered. She wanted
+to think, to analyse, to speculate on what would happen next. For the
+present she was content to glory in the fact that he had unwittingly
+betrayed himself.</p>
+
+<p>She was near the Plaza before the one great, insurmountable obstacle
+arose in her mind to confound her joyous calculations. What would it all
+come to, after all? She could never be more to him than she was at this
+instant, for between them lay the truth about the death of Templeton
+Thorpe,&mdash;and Templeton Thorpe was her husband. Her exaltation was
+short-lived. The joy went out of her soul. The future looked to be even
+more barren than before the kindly hope sprang up to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> wave its golden
+prospects before her deluded eyes.</p>
+
+<p>He would never look at the situation from her point of view. Even though
+he found himself powerless to resist the love that was regaining
+strength enough to batter down the wall of prejudice her marriage had
+created in his mind, there would still stand between them his conviction
+that it would be an act of vileness to claim or even covet the wife of
+the man whose life he had taken, not in anger or reprisal but in honest
+devotion.</p>
+
+<p>Anne was not callous or unfeeling in her readiness to disregard what he
+might be expected to call the ethics of the case. She very sensibly
+looked at the question as one in which the conscience had no part, for
+the simple reason that there was no guilty motive to harass it. If his
+conscience was clear,&mdash;and it most certainly was,&mdash;there could be no
+sound reason for him to deny himself the right to reclaim that which
+belonged to him by all the laws of nature. On her part there was not the
+slightest feeling of revulsion. She did not look upon his act as a
+barrier. Her own act in betraying him was far more of a barrier than
+this simple thing that he had done. She had believed it to be
+insurmountable. She had long ago accepted as final the belief that he
+despised her and would go on doing so to the end. And now, in the last
+hour, there had been a revelation. He still loved her. His scorn, his
+contempt, his disgust were not equal to the task of subduing the emotion
+that lived in spite of all of them. But this other thing! This thing
+that he would call <i>decency</i>!</p>
+
+<p>All through the afternoon his savage, discordant cry: "Don't do that!"
+rang in her ears. She thrilled and crumpled in turn. The blood ran hot
+once more in her veins. As she looked back over the past year it seemed
+to her that her blood had been cold and sluggish. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> now it was warm
+again and tingling. Even the desolating thought that her discovery would
+yield no profit failed to check the riotous, grateful warmth that raced
+through her body from crown to toe. Despair had its innings, but there
+was always compensation in the return of a joy that would not
+acknowledge itself beaten. Joy enough to feel that he could not help
+loving her! Joy to feel that he was hungry too! No matter what happened
+now she would know that she had not lost all of him.</p>
+
+<p>After a while she found herself actually enjoying the prospect of
+certain failure on Braden's part in the case of Marraville. Reviled and
+excoriated beyond endurance, he would take refuge in the haven that she
+alone could open to him. He would come to her and she would go with him,
+freely and gladly, into new places where he could start all over again
+and&mdash;But even as she conjured up this sacrificial picture, this false
+plaisance, her cheeks grew hot with shame. The real good that was in
+Anne Tresslyn leaped into revolt. She hated herself for the thought; she
+could have cursed herself. What manner of love was this that could think
+of self alone? What of him? What of the man she loved?</p>
+
+<p>She denied herself to callers. At half-past five she called up the
+hospital and inquired how Mr. Marraville was getting along. She had a
+horrid feeling that the voice at the other end would say that he was
+dead. She found a vast relief in the polite but customary "doing very
+nicely" reply that came languidly over the wires. Anne was not by way of
+knowing that the telephone operators in the hospitals would say very
+cheerfully that "Mr. Washington is doing very nicely," if one were to
+call up to inquire into the condition of the Father of his Country! An
+"extra" at six o'clock announced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> that the operation had taken place and
+that Mr. Marraville had survived it, although it was too soon to,&mdash;and
+so on and so forth.</p>
+
+<p>Then she called Simmy Dodge up on the telephone. Simmy would know if
+anybody knew. And with her customary cleverness and foresightedness she
+called him up at the hospital.</p>
+
+<p>After a long delay Simmy's cheery voice came singing&mdash;or rather it was
+barking&mdash;into her ear. This had been the greatest day in the life of
+Simeon Dodge. From early morn he had gone about in a state of optimistic
+unrest. He was more excited than he had ever been in his life
+before,&mdash;and yet he was beatifically serene. His brow was unclouded, his
+eyes sparkled and his voice rang with all the confidence of extreme
+felicity. There was no question in Simmy's mind as to the outcome.
+Braden would pull the old gentleman through, sure as anything.
+Absolutely sure, that's what Simmy was, and he told other people so.</p>
+
+<p>"Fine as silk!" he shouted back in answer to Anne's low, suppressed
+inquiry. "Never anything like it, Anne, old girl. One of the young
+doctors told me&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Has he come out of the ether, Simmy?"</p>
+
+<p>"What say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is he conscious? Has the ether&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say as to that," said Simmy cheerfully. "He's been back in his
+room since five o'clock. That's&mdash;let's see what time is it now?
+Six-fourteen. Nearly an hour and a quarter. They all say&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you see Braden?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure. He's fagged out, poor chap. Strain something awful. Good Lord, I
+wonder what it must have been to him when it came so precious near to
+putting me out of business. I thought I was dying at half-past<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> four. I
+never expected to live to see Mr. Marraville out of the operating-room.
+Had to take something for medicinal purposes. I knew all along that
+Braden could do the job like a&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Where is he now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Last I heard of him he was back in his room with the house doctor
+and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean Braden."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you sore about, Anne?" complained Simmy. Her voice had sounded
+rather querulous to him. "I thought you meant the patient. Brady is up
+there, too, I guess. Sh! I can't say anything more. A lot of reporters,
+are coming this way."</p>
+
+<p>The morning papers announced that James Marraville had passed a
+comfortable night and that not only Dr. Thorpe but other physicians who
+were attending him expressed the confident opinion that if he continued
+to gain throughout the day and if nothing unforeseen occurred there was
+no reason why he should not recover. He had rallied from the an&aelig;sthetic,
+his heart was good, and there was no temperature. Members of the family
+were extremely hopeful. His two sons-in-law&mdash;who were spokesmen for the
+other members of the family&mdash;were united in the opinion that Dr. Thorpe
+had performed a miracle. Dr. Thorpe, himself, declined to be
+interviewed. He referred the newspaper men to the other surgeons and
+physicians who were interested in the case.</p>
+
+<p>There was an underlying note of dismay, rather deftly obscured, in all
+of the newspaper accounts, however. Not one of them appeared to have
+recovered from the surprise that had thrown all of their plans out of
+order. They had counted on James Marraville's death and had prepared
+themselves accordingly. There were leading<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> editorials in every office,
+and columns of obituary matter; and there were far from vague allusions
+to the young doctor who performed the operation. And here was the man
+alive! It was really more shocking than if he had died, as he was
+expected to do. It is no wonder, therefore, that the first accounts were
+almost entirely without mention of the doctor who had upset all of their
+calculations. He hadn't lived up to the requirements. The worst of it
+all was that Mr. Marraville's failure to expire on the operating table
+forever deprived them of the privilege of saying, invidiously, that
+young Doctor Thorpe had been called in as the last resort. It would take
+them a day or two, no doubt, to adjust themselves to the new situation,
+and then, if the millionaire was still showing signs of surviving, they
+would burst forth into praise of the marvellous young surgeon who had
+startled the entire world by his performance!</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, there was still a chance that Mr. Marraville might die,
+so it was better to hesitate and be on the safe side.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>James Marraville called Thorpe a coward and a poltroon. This was a week
+after the operation. They were alone in the room. For days his
+wondering, questioning eyes had sought those of the man on whom he had
+depended for everlasting peace, and always there had been a look of
+reproach in them. Not in words, but still plainly, he was asking why he
+still lived, why this man had not done the thing that was expected of
+him. Every one about him was talking of the marvellous, incredible
+result of the operation; every one was looking cheerful and saying that
+he would "soon be as good as new." And all the while he was lying there,
+weak and beaten, wondering why they lied to him, and why Man as well as
+God had been so cruel to him. He was not deceived. He knew that he had
+it all to live over again. He knew what they meant when they said that
+it had been very successful! And so, one day, in all the bitterness of
+his soul, he cursed the man who had given him a few more months to live.</p>
+
+<p>But there were other men and women who did not want to die. They wanted
+very dearly to live, and they had been afraid to risk an operation. Now
+that the world was tumbling over itself to proclaim the greatness of the
+surgeon who had saved James Marraville's life, the faint-hearted of all
+degrees flowed in a stream up to his doors and implored him to name his
+own price.... So goes the world....</p>
+
+<p>The other doctors knew, and Braden knew, and most thoroughly of all
+James Marraville knew, that while the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> operation was a wonderful feat in
+surgery, it might just as well have remained undone. The young doctor
+simply had done all that was in the power of man to do for a fellow
+creature. He had cheated Death out of an easy victory, but Death would
+come again and sit down beside James Marraville to wait for another day.</p>
+
+<p>Down near Washington Square, Wade blinked his eyes and shook his head,
+and always re-read the reports from the sick-room. He was puzzled and
+sometimes there was a faraway look in his eyes.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Lutie's baby came. He came long after midnight, and if he had been given
+the power at birth to take intelligent notice of things, he would have
+been vastly astonished to hear that his grandmother had been sitting up
+in an adjoining room with her son and daughter, anxiously, even
+fearfully, awaiting his advent into the world. And he would have been
+further astonished and perhaps distressed if any one had told him that
+his granny cried a little over him, and refused to go to her own home
+until she was quite sure that his little mother was all right. Moreover,
+he would have been gravely impressed by the presence of the celebrated
+Dr. Thorpe, and the extraordinary agony of that great big tall man who
+cowered and shivered and who wouldn't even look at him because he had
+eyes and thought for no one but the little mother. Older and wiser
+persons would have revealed considerable interest in the certificate of
+deposit that his grandmother laid on the bed beside him. He was quite a
+rich little boy without knowing it. Thirty thousand dollars is not to be
+sneezed at, and it would be highly unjust to say that it was a sneeze
+that sent his grandmother, his aunt and his father into hysterics of
+alarm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>They called him Carnahan Tresslyn. He represented a distinct phase in
+the regeneration of a proud and haughty family.</p>
+
+<p>A few weeks later Anne took a house up among the hills of Westchester
+County, and moved Lutie and the baby out into the country. It did not
+occur to her to think that she was making a personal sacrifice in going
+up there to spend the hot months.</p>
+
+<p>Percy Wintermill informed her one day that he was going to ask her to
+marry him when the proper time arrived. It would be the third time, he
+reminded her. He was being forehanded, that was all,&mdash;declaring himself
+in advance of all others and thereby securing, as he put it, the
+privilege of priority. She was not very much moved by the preparation of
+Percy. In fact, she treated the matter with considerable impatience.</p>
+
+<p>"Really, you know, Percy," she said, "I'm getting rather fed up with
+refusing you. I'm sure I've done it more than three times. Why don't you
+ask some girl who will have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's just the point," said he frankly. "If I asked some girl who
+would have me, she'd take me, and then where would you come in? I don't
+want any one but you, Anne, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry, Perce, but it's no use," said she briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I haven't asked you yet," he reminded her. After some minutes,
+spent by him in rumination and by her in wondering why she didn't send
+him away, he inquired, quite casually: "Anybody else in mind, old girl?"
+She merely stared at him. "Hope it isn't Brady Thorpe," he went on.
+"He's one of my best friends. I'd hate to think that I'd have to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Go home, Percy," she said. "I'm going out,&mdash;and I'm late already.
+Thanks for the orchids. Don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> bother to send any more. It's just a
+waste of money, old fellow. I sha'n't marry you. I sha'n't marry any one
+except the man with whom I fall desperately, horribly in love,&mdash;and I'm
+not going to fall in love with you, so run away."</p>
+
+<p>"You weren't in love with old man Thorpe, were you?" he demanded,
+flushing angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't the right to be offended by that beastly remark, Percy," she
+said quietly; "and yet I don't think you ought to have said it to me."</p>
+
+<p>"It was meant only to remind you that it won't be necessary for you to
+fall desperately, horribly in love with me," he explained, and was
+suddenly conscious of being very uncomfortable for the first time in his
+life. He did not like the expression in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Her shoulders drooped a little. "It isn't very comforting to feel that
+any one of my would-be husbands could be satisfied to get along without
+being loved by me. No doubt I shall be asked by others besides you,
+Percy. I hope you do not voice the sentiments of all the rest of them."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry I said it," he said, and seemed a little bewildered
+immediately afterwards. He really couldn't make himself out. He went
+away a few minutes later, vaguely convinced that perhaps it wouldn't be
+worth while to ask her, after all. This was a new, strange Anne, and it
+would hurt to be refused by her. He had never thought of it in just that
+way&mdash;before.</p>
+
+<p>"So that is the price they put upon me, is it?" Anne said to herself.
+She was regarding herself rather humbly in the mirror as she pinned on
+her hat. "I am still expected to marry without loving the man who takes
+me. It isn't to be exacted of me. Don't they credit me with a capacity
+for loving? What do they think I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> am? What do they think my blood is
+made of, and the flesh on my bones? Do they think that because I am
+beautiful I can love no one but myself? Don't they think I'm human? How
+can any one look at me without feeling that I'd rather love than be
+loved? The poor fools! Any woman can be loved. What we all want more
+than anything else is to <i>love</i>. And I love&mdash;I <i>do</i> love! And I <i>am</i>
+beloved. And all the rest of my life I shall love; I shall gloat over
+the fact that I love; I shall love, love, <i>love</i> with all that there is
+in me, all that there is in my body and my soul. The poor fools."</p>
+
+<p>And all that was in her body and her soul was prepared to give itself to
+the man who loved her. She wanted him to have her for his own. She
+pitied him even more than she pitied herself.</p>
+
+<p>Anne had no illusions concerning herself. Mawkish sentimentality had no
+place in her character. She was straightforward and above board with
+herself, and she would not cheapen herself in her own eyes. Another
+woman might have gone down on her knees, whimpering a cry for
+forgiveness, but not Anne Tresslyn. She would ask him to forgive her but
+she would not lie to herself by prostrating her body at his feet. There
+was firm, noble stuff in Anne Tresslyn. It was born in her to know that
+the woman who goes down on her knees before her man never quite rises to
+her full height again. She will always be in the position of wondering
+whether she stayed on her knees long enough to please him. The thought
+had never entered Anne's head to look anywhere but straight into
+Braden's eyes. She was not afraid to have him see that she was honest!
+He could see that she had no lies to tell him. And she was as sorry for
+him as she was for herself....</p>
+
+<p>She saw him often during the days of Lutie's convalescence,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> but never
+alone. There was considerable comfort for her in the thought that he
+made a distinct point of not being alone with her. One day she said to
+him:</p>
+
+<p>"I have my car outside, Braden. Shall I run you over to St. Luke's?"</p>
+
+<p>It was a test. She knew that he was going to the hospital, and intended
+to take the elevated down to 110th Street. His smile puzzled her.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you." Then, after a moment, he added: "If people saw me
+driving about in a prosperous looking touring-car they'd be justified in
+thinking that my fees are exorbitant, and I should lose more than I'd
+gain."</p>
+
+<p>She flushed slightly. "By the same argument they might think you were
+picking up germs in the elevated or the subway."</p>
+
+<p>"I shun the subway," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Anne looked straight into his eyes and said&mdash;to herself: "I love you."
+He must have sensed the unspoken words, for his eyes hardened.</p>
+
+<p>"Moreover, Anne, I shouldn't think it would be necessary for me to
+remind you that&mdash;" he hesitated, for he suddenly realised that he was
+about to hurt her, and it was not what he wanted to do&mdash;"that there are
+other and better reasons why&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped there, and never completed the sentence. She was still
+looking into his eyes and was still saying to herself: "I love you." It
+was as if a gentle current of electricity played upon every nerve in his
+body. He quivered under the touch of something sweet and mysterious.
+Exaltation was his response to the magnetic wave that carried her
+unspoken words into his heart. She had not uttered a sound and yet he
+heard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> the words. How many times had she cried those delicious words
+into his ear while he held her close in his arms? How many times had she
+looked at him like this while actually speaking the words aloud in
+answer to his appeal?</p>
+
+<p>They were standing but a few feet apart. He could take a step forward
+and she would be in his arms,&mdash;that glorious, adorable, ineffably
+feminine creation,&mdash;in his arms,&mdash;in his arms,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>It was she who broke the spell. Her voice sounded far off&mdash;and
+exhausted, as if it came from her lips without breath behind it.</p>
+
+<p>"It will always be just the same, Braden," she said, and he knew that it
+was an acknowledgment of his unfinished reminder. She was promising him
+something.</p>
+
+<p>He took a firm grip on himself. "I'm glad that you see things as they
+are, Anne. Now, I must be off. Thanks just the same for&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't mention it," she said carelessly. "I'm glad that you see
+things too as they are, Braden." She held out her hand. There was no
+restraint in her manner. "I'm sorry, Braden. Things might have been so
+different. I'm sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"Good God!" he burst out. "If you had only been&mdash;" He broke off,
+resolutely compressing his lips. His jaw was set again in the strong old
+way that she knew so well.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded her head slowly. "If I had only been some one else instead of
+myself," she said, "it would not have happened."</p>
+
+<p>He turned toward the door, stopped short and then turned to face her.
+There was a strange expression in his grey eyes, not unlike diffidence.</p>
+
+<p>"Percy told me last night that you have refused to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> marry him. I'm glad
+that you did that, Anne. I want you to know that I am glad, that I
+felt&mdash;oh, I cannot tell you how I felt when he told me."</p>
+
+<p>She eyed him closely for a moment. "You thought that I&mdash;I might have
+accepted him. Is that it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I hadn't thought of it at all," he said, confusedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," she said, and a slight pallor began to reveal itself in her
+face, "I tried marrying for money once, Braden. The next time I shall
+try marrying for love."</p>
+
+<p>He stared. "You don't mince words, do you?" he said, frowning.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said. "Percy will tell you that, I fancy," she added, and
+smiled. "He can't understand my not marrying him. He will be worth
+fifteen or twenty millions, you know." The irony in her voice was
+directed inwardly, not outwardly. "Perhaps it would be safer for him to
+wait before taking too much for granted. You see, I haven't actually
+refused him. I merely refused to give him an option. He&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Anne, don't jest about&mdash;" he began, and then as her eyes fell
+suddenly under his gaze and her lip trembled ever so slightly,&mdash;"By
+Jove, I&mdash;I sha'n't misjudge you in that way again. Good-bye." This time
+he held out his hand to her.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head. "I've changed my mind. I'm never going to say
+good-bye to you again."</p>
+
+<p>"Never say good-bye? Why, that's&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I say good-bye to you when you are always with me?" she
+broke in. Noting the expression in his eyes she went on ruthlessly,
+breathlessly. "Do you think I ought to be ashamed to say such a thing to
+you? Well, I'm not. It doesn't hurt my pride to say it. Not in the
+least." She paused for an instant and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> then went on boldly. "I fancy I
+am more honest with myself than you are with yourself, Braden."</p>
+
+<p>He looked steadily into her eyes. "You are wrong there," he said
+quietly. Then bluntly: "By God, Anne, if it were not for the one
+terrible thing that lies between us, I could&mdash;I could&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Go on," she said, her heart standing still. "You can at least <i>say</i> it
+to me. I don't ask for anything more."</p>
+
+<p>"But why say it?" he cried out bitterly. "Will it help matters in the
+least for me to confess that I am weak and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She laughed aloud, unable to resist the nervous excitement that thrilled
+her. "Weak? You weak? Look back and see if you can find a single thing
+to prove that you are weak. You needn't be afraid. You are strong enough
+to keep me in my place. You cannot put yourself in jeopardy by
+completing what you started out to say. 'If it were not for the one
+terrible thing that lies between us, I could&mdash;I could&mdash;' Well, what
+could you do? Overlook my treachery? Forget that I did an even more
+terrible thing than you did? Forgive me and take me back and trust me
+all over again? Is that what you would have said to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is what I might have said," he admitted, almost savagely, "if I
+had not come to my senses in time."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes softened. The love-light glowed in their depths. "I am not as I
+was two years ago, Braden," she said. "I'd like you to know that, at
+least."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say that is quite true," he said harshly. "You got what you went
+after and now that you've got it you can very comfortably repent."</p>
+
+<p>She winced. "I am not repenting."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Would you be willing to give up all that you gained out of that
+transaction and go back to where my grandfather found you?" he demanded?</p>
+
+<p>"Do you expect me to lie to you?" she asked with startling candour.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I know you will not lie."</p>
+
+<p>"Would it please you to have me say that I would willingly give up all
+that I gained?"</p>
+
+<p>"I see what you mean. It would be a lie."</p>
+
+<p>"Would it please you to have me give it all up?" she insisted.</p>
+
+<p>He was thoughtful. "No," he said candidly. "You earned it, you are
+entitled to it. It is filthy, dirty money, but you earned it. You do not
+deny that it was your price. That's the long and the short of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you let me confess something to you? Something that will make it
+all seem more despicable than before?"</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord, I don't see how that can be possible!"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not expect to lose you, Braden, when I married Mr. Thorpe. I
+counted on you in the end. I was so sure of myself,&mdash;and of you. Wait!
+Let me finish. If I had dreamed that I was to lose you, I should not
+have married Mr. Thorpe. That makes it worse, doesn't it?" There was a
+note of appeal in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes,&mdash;it makes it worse," he groaned.</p>
+
+<p>"I was young and&mdash;over-confident," she murmured. "I looked ahead to the
+day when I should be free again and you would be added to the&mdash;well, the
+gains. Now you know the whole truth about me. I was counting on you,
+looking forward to you, even as I stood beside him and took the vows.
+You were always uppermost in my calculations. I never left you out of
+them. Even to this day, to this very moment, I continue to count on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span>
+you. I shall never be able to put the hope out of my mind. I have tried
+it and failed. You may despise me if you will, but nothing can kill this
+mean little thing that lurks in here. I don't know what you will call
+it, Braden, but I call it loyalty to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Loyalty! My God!" he cried out hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, loyalty," she cried. "Mean as I am, mean as I have been, I have
+never wavered an instant in my love for you. Oh, I'm not pleading for
+anything. I'm not begging. I don't ask for anything,&mdash;not even your good
+opinion. I am only telling you the truth. Mr. Thorpe knew it all. He
+knew that I loved you, and he knew that I counted on having you after he
+was out of the way. And here is something else that you never knew, or
+suspected. He believed that my love for you, my eagerness, my longing to
+be free to call you back again, would be the means of releasing him from
+the thing that was killing him. He counted on me to&mdash;I will put it as
+gently as I can&mdash;to free myself. I believe in my soul that he married me
+with that awful idea in his mind."</p>
+
+<p>For a long time they were silent. Braden was staring at her, horror in
+his eyes. She remained standing before him, motionless. Lutie's nurse
+passed through the little hall outside, but they did not see or hear
+her. A door closed softly; the faint crying of the baby went unheard.</p>
+
+<p>"You are wrong there," he said at last, thickly. "I happen to know what
+his motives were, Anne."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know," she said wearily. "To prove to you how utterly worthless I
+am,&mdash;or was. Well, it may have been that. I hope it was. I would like to
+think it of him instead of the other thing. I would like to think of him
+as sacrificing himself for your sake, instead of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> planning to sacrifice
+me for his sake. It is a terrible thought, Braden. He begged me to give
+him those tablets, time and again. I&mdash;I couldn't have done that, not
+even with you as the prize." She shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>A queer, indescribable chill ran through his veins. "Do you&mdash;have you
+ever thought that he may have held you out as a prize&mdash;for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean?" She went very white. "God above us, no! If I thought <i>that</i>,
+Braden, then there would be something lying between us, something that
+even such as I could not overcome."</p>
+
+<p>"Just the same," he went on grimly, "he went to his death with a word of
+praise on his lips for you, Anne. He told me you were deserving of
+something better than the fate he had provided for you. He was sorry.
+It&mdash;it may have been that he was pleading your cause, that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I would like to think that of him," she cried eagerly, "even though his
+praise fell upon deaf ears."</p>
+
+<p>She turned away from him and sank wearily into a chair. For a minute or
+two he stood there regarding her in silence. He was sorry for her. It
+had taken a good deal of courage to humble herself in his eyes, as she
+had done by her frank avowal.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it any satisfaction to your pride, Anne," he said slowly, after
+deliberate thought, "to know that I love you and always will love you,
+in spite of everything?"</p>
+
+<p>Her answer was a long time in coming, and it surprised him when it did
+come.</p>
+
+<p>"If I had any pride left I should hate you for humbling it in that
+manner, Braden," she said, little red spots appearing on her cheeks. "I
+am not asking for your pity."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not mean to&mdash;" he cried impulsively. For an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> instant he threw all
+restraint aside. The craving mastered him. He sprang forward.</p>
+
+<p>She closed her eyes quickly, and held her breath.</p>
+
+<p>He was almost at her side when he stopped short. Then she heard the rush
+of his feet and, the next instant, the banging of the hall door. He was
+gone! She opened her eyes slowly, and stared dully, hazily before her.
+For a long time she sat as one unconscious. The shock of realisation
+left her without the strength or the desire to move. Comprehension was
+slow in coming to her in the shock of disappointment. She could not
+realise that she was not in his arms. He had leaped forward to clasp
+her, she had felt his outstretched arms encircling her,&mdash;it was hard to
+believe that she sat there alone and that the ecstasy was not real.</p>
+
+<p>Tears filled her eyes. She did not attempt to wipe them away. She could
+only stare, unblinking, at the closed door. Sobs were in her throat; she
+was first cold, then hot as with a fever.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly her breath began to come again, and with it the sobs. Her body
+relaxed, she closed her eyes again and let her head fall back against
+the chair, and for many minutes she remained motionless, still with the
+weakness of one who has passed through a great crisis.... Long
+afterward,&mdash;she did not know how long it was,&mdash;she laid her arms upon
+the window-sill at her side and buried her face on them. The sobs died
+away and the tears ceased flowing. Then she raised her eyes and stared
+down into the hot, crowded street far below. She looked upon sordid,
+cheap, ugly things down there, and she had been looking at paradise such
+a little while ago.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she sprang to her feet. Her tall, glorious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> figure was extended
+to its full height, and her face was transformed with the light of
+exaltation.</p>
+
+<p>A key grated noisily in the hall door. The next instant it swung
+violently open and her brother George strode in upon her,&mdash;big,
+clear-eyed, happy-faced and eager.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello!" he cried, stopping short. "I popped in early to-day. Matter of
+great importance to talk over with my heir. Wait a second, Anne. I'll be
+back&mdash;I say, what's the matter? You look posi-<i>tive</i>-ly as if you were
+on the point of bursting into grand opera. Going to sing?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm singing all over, Georgie,&mdash;all over, inside and out," she cried
+joyously.</p>
+
+<p>"Gee whiz!" he gasped. "Has the baby begun to talk?"</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>She did not meet him again at Lutie's. Purposely, and with a cunning
+somewhat foreign to her sex, she took good care that he should not be
+there when she made her daily visits. She made it an object to telephone
+every day, ostensibly to inquire about Lutie's condition, and she never
+failed to ask what the doctor had said. In that way she knew that he had
+made his visit and had left the apartment. She would then drive up into
+Harlem and sit happily with her sister-in-law and the baby, whom she
+adored with a fervour that surprised not only herself but the mother,
+whose ideas concerning Anne were undergoing a rapid and enduring
+reformation.</p>
+
+<p>She was shocked and not a little disillusioned one day, however, when
+Lutie, now able to sit up and chatter to her heart's content, remarked,
+with a puzzled frown on her pretty brow:</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Braden must be terribly rushed with work nowadays, Anne. For the
+last week he has been coming here at the most unearthly hour in the
+morning, and dashing away like a shot just as soon as he can. Good
+gracious, we're hardly awake when he gets here. Never later than eight
+o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>Anne's temple came down in a heap. He wasn't playing the game at all as
+she had expected. He was avoiding <i>her</i>. She was dismayed for an
+instant, and then laughed outright quite frankly at her own
+disenchantment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Lutie looked at her with deep affection in her eyes. "You ought to have
+a little baby of your own, Anne," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"It's much nicer having yours," said Anne. "He's such a fat one."</p>
+
+<p>Two weeks later they were all up in the country, and George was saying
+twice a day at least that Anne was the surprise and comfort of his old
+age. She was as gay as a lark. She sang,&mdash;but not grand opera
+selections. Her days were devoted to the cheerful occupation of teaching
+young Carnahan how to smile and how to count his toes.</p>
+
+<p>But in the dark hours of the night she was not so serene. Then was her
+time for reflection, for wonder, for speculation. Was life to be always
+like this? Were her days to be merry and confident, and her nights as
+full of loneliness and doubt? Was her craving never to be satisfied?
+Sometimes when George and Lutie went off to bed and left her sitting
+alone on the dark, screened-in veranda, looking down from the hills
+across the sombre Hudson, she almost cried aloud in her desolation. Of
+what profit was love to her? Was she always to go on being alone with
+the love that consumed her?</p>
+
+<p>The hot, dry summer wore away. She steadfastly refused to go to the cool
+seashore, she declined the countless invitations that came to her, and
+she went but seldom into the city. Her mother was at Newport. They had
+had one brief, significant encounter just before the elder woman went
+off to the seashore. No doubt her mother considered herself entitled to
+a fair share of "the spoils," but she would make no further advances.
+She had failed earlier in the game; she would not humble herself again.
+And so, one hot day in August, just before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> going to the country, Anne
+went up to her old home, determined to have it out with her mother.</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you staying in town through all of this heat, mother dear?" she
+asked. Her mother was looking tired and listless. She was showing her
+age, and that was the one thing that Anne could not look upon with
+complacency.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't afford to go junketing about this year," said her mother,
+simply. "This awful war has upset&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The war hasn't had time to upset anything over here, mother. It's only
+been going on a couple of weeks. You ought to go away, dearest, for a
+good long snooze in the country. You'll be as young as a d&eacute;butante by
+the time the season sets in."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn smiled aridly. "Am I beginning to show my age so much as
+all this, Anne?" she lamented. "I'm just a little over fifty. That isn't
+old in these days, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"You look worried, not old," said her daughter, sympathetically. "Is it
+money?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's always money," admitted Mrs. Tresslyn. "I may as well make up my
+mind to retrench, to live a little more simply. You would think that I
+should be really quite well-to-do nowadays, having successfully gotten
+rid of my principal items of expense. But I will be quite frank with
+you, Anne. I am still trying to pay off obligations incurred before I
+lost my excellent son and daughter. You were luxuries, both of you, my
+dear."</p>
+
+<p>Anne was shocked. "Do you mean to say that you are still paying
+off&mdash;still paying up for <i>us</i>? Good heavens, mamma! Why, we couldn't
+have got you into debt to that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't jump to conclusions, my dear," her mother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> interrupted. "The
+debts were not all due to you and George. I had a few of my own. What I
+mean to say is that, combining all of them, they form quite a handsome
+amount."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," said Anne determinedly, "tell me just how much of it should
+be charged up to George and me."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't the remotest idea. You see, I was above keeping books. What
+are you trying to get at? A way to square up with me? Well, my dear, you
+can't do that, you know. You don't owe me anything. Whatever I spent on
+you, I spent cheerfully, gladly, and without an idea of ever receiving a
+penny in the shape of recompense. That's the way with a mother, Anne. No
+matter what she may do for her children, no matter how much she may
+sacrifice for them, she does it without a single thought for herself.
+That is the best part of being a mother. A wife may demand returns from
+her husband, but a mother never thinks of asking anything of her
+children. I am sure that even worse mothers than I will tell you the
+same. We never ask for anything in return but a little selfish pleasure
+in knowing that we have borne children that are invariably better than
+the children that any other mother may have brought into the world. No,
+you owe me nothing, Anne. Put it out of your mind."</p>
+
+<p>Anne listened in amazement. "But if you are hard-up, mother dear, and on
+account of the money you were obliged to spend on us&mdash;because we were
+both spoiled and selfish&mdash;why, it is only right and just that your
+children, if they can afford to do so, should be allowed to turn the
+tables on you. It shouldn't be so one-sided, this little selfish
+pleasure that you mention. I am rich. I have a great deal more than I
+need. I have nearly a hundred thousand a year. You&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Has any one warned you not to talk too freely about it in these days of
+income tax collectors?" broke in her mother, with a faint smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh! Simmy attends to that for me. I don't understand a thing about
+it. Now, see here, mother, I insist that it is my right,&mdash;not my duty,
+but my right&mdash;to help you out of the hole. You would do it for me.
+You've done it for George, time and again. How much do you need?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn regarded her daughter thoughtfully. "Back of all this, I
+suppose, is the thought that it was I who made a rich girl of you. You
+feel that it is only right that you should share the spoils with your
+partner, not with your mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Once and for all, mother, let me remind you that I do not blame you for
+making a rich woman of me. I did not have to do it, you know. I am not
+the sort that can be driven or coerced. I made my own calculations and I
+took my own chances. You were my support but not my <i>commander</i>. The
+super-virtuous girls you read about in books are always blaming their
+mothers for such marriages as mine, and so do the comic papers. It's all
+bosh. Youth abhors old age. It loves itself too well. But we needn't
+discuss responsibilities. The point is this: I have more money than I
+know what to do with, so I want to help you out. It isn't because I
+think it is my duty, or that I owe it to you, but because I love you,
+mother. If you had forced me into marrying Mr. Thorpe, I should hate you
+now. But I don't,&mdash;I love you dearly. I want you to let me love you. You
+are so hard to get close to,&mdash;so hard to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, my dear," cried her mother, coming up to her and laying her
+hands on the tall girl's shoulders,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span> "you have paid me in full now. What
+you have just said pays off all the debts. I was afraid that my children
+hated me."</p>
+
+<p>"You poor old dear!" cried Anne, her eyes shining. "If you will only let
+me show you how much I can love you. We are pretty much alike, mother,
+you and I. We&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No!" cried out the other fiercely. "I do not want you to say that. I do
+not want you to be like me. Never say that to me again. I want you to be
+happy, and you will never be happy if you are like me."</p>
+
+<p>"Piffle!" said Anne, and kissed her mother soundly. And she knew then,
+as she had always known, that her mother was not and never could be a
+happy woman. Even in her affection for her own children she was the
+spirit of selfishness. She loved them for what they meant to her and not
+for themselves. She was consistent. She knew herself better than any one
+else knew her.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, tell me how much you need," went on Anne, eagerly. "I've hated to
+broach the subject to you. It didn't seem right that I should. But I
+don't care now. I want to do all that I can."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not offend you, or insult you, Anne, by saying that you are a
+good girl,&mdash;a better one than I thought you would ever be. You can't
+help me, however. Don't worry about me. I shall get on, thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"Just the same, I insist on paying your bills, and setting you straight
+once more for another fling. And you are going to Newport this week.
+Come, now, mother dear, let's get it over with. Tell me about
+<i>everything</i>. You may hop into debt again just as soon as you like, but
+I'll feel a good deal better if I know that it isn't on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> my account. It
+isn't right that you should still have George and me hanging about your
+neck like millstones. Come! I insist. Let's figure it all up."</p>
+
+<p>An hour afterward, she said to her mother: "I'll make out one check to
+you covering everything, mother. It will look better if you pay them
+yourself. Thirty-seven thousand four hundred and twelve dollars. That's
+everything, is it,&mdash;you're sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Everything," said Mrs. Tresslyn, settling back in her chair. "I will
+not attempt to thank you, Anne. You see, I didn't thank Lutie when she
+threw her money in my face, for somehow I knew that I'd give it all back
+to her again. Well, you may have to wait longer than she did, my dear,
+but this will all come back to you. I sha'n't live forever, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Anne kissed her. "You are a wonder, mother dear. You wouldn't come off
+of your high-horse for anything, would you? By Jove, that's what I like
+most in you. You never knuckle."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, you are picking up a lot of expressions from Lutie."</p>
+
+<p>The early evenings at Anne's place in the country were spent solely in
+discussions of the great war. There was no other topic. The whole of the
+civilised world was talking of the stupendous conflict that had burst
+upon it like a crash out of a clear sky. George came home loaded down
+with the latest extras and all of the regular editions of the afternoon
+papers.</p>
+
+<p>"By gemini," he was in the habit of saying, "it's a lucky thing for
+those Germans that Lutie got me to reenlist with her a year ago. I'd be
+on my way over there by this time, looking for real work. Gee, Anne,
+that's one thing I could do as well as anybody. I'm big enough to stop a
+lot of bullets. We'll never see another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> scrap like this. It's just my
+luck to be happily married when it bursts out, too."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure you would have gone," said Lutie serenely. "I'm glad I
+captured you in time. It saves the Germans an awful lot of work."</p>
+
+<p>The smashing of Belgium, the dash of the great German army toward Paris,
+the threatened disaster to the gay capital, the sickening conviction
+that nothing could check the tide of guns and men,&mdash;all these things
+bore down upon them with a weight that seemed unbearable. And then came
+the battle of the Marne! Von Kluck's name was on the lips of every man,
+woman and child in the United States of America. Would they crush him?
+Was Paris safe? What was the matter with England? And then, the personal
+element came into the situation for Anne and her kind: the names of the
+officers who had fallen, snuffed out in Belgium and France. Nearly every
+day brought out the name of some one she had known, a few of them quite
+well. There were the gallant young Belgians who had come over for the
+horse-shows, and the polo-players she had known in England, and the gay
+young noblemen,&mdash;their names brought the war nearer home and sickened
+her.</p>
+
+<p>As time went on the horrors of the great conflict were deprived, through
+incessant repetition, of the force to shock a world now accustomed to
+the daily slaughter of thousands. Humanity had got used to war. War was
+no longer a novelty. People read of great battles in which unprecedented
+numbers of men were slain, and wondered how much of truth was in the
+reports. War no longer horrified the distant on-looker. The sufferings
+of the Belgians were of greater interest to the people of America than
+the sufferings of the poor devils in the trenches or on the battle
+lines. A vast wave of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> sympathy was sweeping the land and purses were
+touched as never before. War was on parade. The world turned out en
+masse to see the spectacle. The heart of every good American was touched
+by what he saw, and the hand of every man was held out to stricken
+Belgium, nor was any hand empty. Belgium presented the grewsome
+spectacle, and the world paid well for the view it was having.</p>
+
+<p>It was late in November when Anne and the others came down to the city,
+and by that time the full strength of the movement to help the sufferers
+had been reached. People were fighting for the Belgians, but with their
+hearts instead of their hands. The stupendous wave of sympathy was at
+its height. It rolled across the land and then across the sea. People
+were swept along by its mighty rush. Anne Thorpe was caught up in the
+maelstrom of human energy.</p>
+
+<p>Something fine in her nature, however, caused Anne to shrink from public
+benefactions. She realised that a world that was charitable to the
+Belgians was not so apt to be charitable toward her. While she did not
+contribute anonymously to the fund, she let it be distinctly understood
+that her name was not to be published in any of the lists of donors,
+except in a single instance when she gave a thousand-dollars. That much,
+at least, would be expected of her and she took some comfort in the
+belief that the world would not charge her with self-exploitation on the
+money she had received from Templeton Thorpe. Other gifts and
+contributions were never mentioned in the press by the committees in
+charge. She gave liberally, not only to the sufferers on the other side
+of the Atlantic but to the poor of New York, and she steadfastly
+declined to serve on any of the relief committees.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Never until now had she appreciated how thin-skinned she was. It is not
+to be inferred that she shut herself up and affected a life of
+seclusion. As a matter of fact, she went out a great deal, but
+invariably among friends and to small, intimate affairs.</p>
+
+<p>Not once in the months that followed the scene in Lutie's sitting-room
+did she encounter Braden Thorpe. She heard of him frequently. He was
+very busy. He went nowhere except where duty called. There was not a
+moment in her days, however, when her thoughts were not for him. Her
+eyes were always searching the throngs on Fifth Avenue in quest of his
+figure; in restaurants she looked eagerly over the crowded tables in the
+hope that she might see actually the face that was always before her,
+night and day. Be it said to her credit, she resolutely abstained from
+carrying her quest into quarters where she might be certain of seeing
+him, of meeting him, of receiving recognition from him. She avoided the
+neighbourhood in which his offices were located, she shunned the streets
+which he would most certainly traverse. While she longed for him, craved
+him with all the hunger of a starved soul, she was content to wait. He
+loved her. She thrived on the joy of knowing this to be true. He might
+never come to her, but she knew that it would never be possible for her
+to go to him unless he called her to him.</p>
+
+<p>Then, one day in early January, she crumpled up under the shock of
+seeing his name in the headlines of her morning newspaper.</p>
+
+<p>He was going to the front!</p>
+
+<p>For a moment she was blind. The page resolved itself into a thick mass
+of black. She was in bed when the paper was brought to her with her
+coffee. She had been lying there sweetly thinking of him. Up to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span>
+instant her eyes fell upon the desolating headline she had been warm and
+snug and tingling with life just aroused. And then she was as cold as
+ice, stupefied. It was a long time before she was able to convince
+herself that the type was really telling her something that she would
+have to believe. He was going to the war!</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe was one of a half-dozen American surgeons who were going over on
+the steamer sailing that day to give their services to the French. The
+newspaper spoke of him in glowing terms. His name stood out above all
+the others, for he was the one most notably in the public eye at the
+moment. The others, just as brave and self-sacrificing as he, were
+briefly mentioned and that was all. He alone was in the headlines, he
+alone was discussed. No one was to be allowed to forget that he was the
+clever young surgeon who had saved the great Marraville. The account
+dwelt upon the grave personal sacrifice he was making in leaving New
+York just as the world was beginning to recognise his great genius and
+ability. Prosperity was knocking at his door, fame was holding out its
+hand to him, and yet he was casting aside all thought of
+self-aggrandisement, all personal ambition in order to go forth and
+serve humanity in fields where his name would never be mentioned except
+in a cry for help from strong men who had known no fear.</p>
+
+<p>Sailing that day! Anne finally grasped the meaning of the words. She
+would not see him again. He would go away without a word to her, without
+giving her the chance to say good-bye, despite her silly statement that
+she would never utter the words again where he was concerned.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the warm glow returned to her blood. Her brain cleared, and she
+was able to think, to grasp at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> probable significance of his action
+in deserting New York and his coveted opportunities. Something whispered
+to her that he was going away because of his own sufferings and not
+those of the poor wretches at the front. Her heart swelled with pity.
+There was no triumph in the thought that he was running away because of
+his love for her. She needed no such proof as this to convince her that
+his heart was more loyal to her than his mind would have it be. She
+cried a little ... and then got up and called for a messenger boy.</p>
+
+<p>This brief message went down to the ship:</p>
+
+<p>"God be with you. I still do not say good-bye, just God be with you
+always, as I shall be. <span class="smcap">Anne</span>."</p>
+
+<p>She did not leave the hotel until long after the ship had sailed. He did
+not telephone. There were a dozen calls on the wire that morning, but
+she had her maid take the messages. There was always the fear that he
+might try to reach her while some one of her idle friends was engaged in
+making a protracted visit with her over the wire. About one o'clock
+Simmy Dodge called up to ask if he could run in and have luncheon with
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got a message for you," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Her heart began to beat so violently that she was afraid he would hear
+it through the receiver at his ear. She could not trust herself to speak
+for a moment. Evidently he thought she was preparing to put him off with
+some polite excuse. Simmy was, as ever, considerate. He made haste to
+spare her the necessity for fibbing. "I can drop in late this
+afternoon&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No," she cried out, "come now, Simmy. I shall expect you. Where are
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>He coughed in some embarrassment. "I'm&mdash;well, you see, I was going past
+so I thought I'd stop in and&mdash;What? Yes, I'm downstairs."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She joined him in the palm room a few minutes later, and they went in to
+luncheon. Her colour was high. Simmy thought he had never seen her when
+she looked more beautiful. But he thought that with each succeeding
+glimpse of her.</p>
+
+<p>"'Pon my word, Anne," he said, staring at her across the table, "you
+fairly dazzle me. Forgive me for saying so. I couldn't help it. Perfect
+ass sometimes, you see."</p>
+
+<p>"I forgive you. I like it. What message did Braden send to me?"</p>
+
+<p>He had not expected her to be so frank, so direct. "I don't know. I wish
+I did. The beggar wrote it and sealed it up in this beastly little
+envelope." He handed her the square white envelope with the ship's
+emblem in the corner.</p>
+
+<p>Before looking at the written address, she put her next question to him.
+A good deal depended on his answer. "Do you know when he wrote this
+note, Simmy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just before they pushed me down the gang-plank," he said. A light broke
+in upon him. "Did you send him a message?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't know whether it is the right thing to say, but I can tell
+you this: he wrote this note before reading your letter or telegram or
+whatever it was. He had a score of things like that and he didn't open
+one of 'em until she'd cast off."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled. "Thank you, Simmy. You have said the right thing,&mdash;as you
+always do." One glance at the superscription was enough. It was in his
+handwriting. For the first time she saw it in his hand:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> "Anne Tresslyn
+Thorpe." A queer little shiver ran through her, never to be explained.</p>
+
+<p>Simmy watched her curiously as she slipped the missive, unopened, into
+her gold mesh bag. "Don't mind me," he said. "Read it."</p>
+
+<p>"Not now, Simmy," she said simply. And all through luncheon she thrilled
+with the consciousness that she had something of Braden there with her,
+near her, waiting for her. His own hand had touched this bit of paper;
+it was a part of him. It was so long since she had seen that well-known,
+beloved handwriting,&mdash;strong like the man, and sure; she found herself
+counting the ages that had passed since his last love missive had come
+to her.</p>
+
+<p>Simmy was rattling on, rather dolefully, about Braden's plans. He was
+likely to be over there for a long time,&mdash;just as long as he was needed
+or able to endure the strain of hard, incessant work in the field
+hospitals.</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted to go," the little man was saying, and that brought her back
+to earth. "The worst way, Anne. But what could I do? Drive an
+automobile, yes, but what's that? Brady wouldn't hear to it. He said it
+was nonsense, me talking of going over there and getting in people's
+way. Of course, I'd probably faint the first time I saw a mutilated dead
+body, and that <i>would</i> irritate the army. They'd have to stop everything
+while they gave me smelling salts. I suppose I'd get used to seeing 'em
+dead all over the place, just as everybody does,&mdash;even the worst of
+cowards. I'm not a coward, Anne. I drive my racing-car at ninety miles,
+I play polo, I go up in Scotty's aeroplane whenever I get a chance, I
+can refuse to take a drink when I think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> I've had enough, and if that
+doesn't prove that I've got courage I'd like to know what it does prove.
+But I'm not a fighting man. Nobody would ever be afraid of me. There
+isn't a German on earth who would run if he saw me charging toward him.
+He'd just wait to see what the dickens I was up to. Something would tell
+him that I wouldn't have the heart to shoot him, no matter how necessary
+it might be for me to do so. Still I wanted to go. That's what amazes
+me. I can't understand it."</p>
+
+<p>"I can understand it, you poor old simpleton," cried Anne. "You wanted
+to go because you are <i>not</i> afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could think so," said he, really perplexed. "Brady is
+different. He'd be a soldier as is a soldier. He's going over to save
+men's lives, however, and that's something I wouldn't be capable of
+doing. If I went they'd expect me to kill 'em, and that's what I'd hate.
+Good Lord, Anne, I couldn't shoot down a poor German boy that hadn't
+done a thing to me&mdash;or to my country, for that matter. If they'd only
+let me go as a spy, or even a messenger boy, I'd jump at the chance. But
+they'd want me to kill people,&mdash;and I couldn't do it, that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Braden well? Does he look fit, Simmy? You know there will be great
+hardships, vile weather, exposure&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He's thin and&mdash;well, I'll be honest with you, he doesn't look as fit as
+might be."</p>
+
+<p>She paled. "Has he been ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not in body, but&mdash;he's off his feed, Anne. Maybe you know the reason
+why." He looked at her narrowly.</p>
+
+<p>"I have not seen him in months," she said evasively.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess that's the answer," he said, pulling at his little moustache.
+"I'm sorry, Anne. It's too bad&mdash;for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> both of you. Lordy, I never dreamed
+I could be so unselfish. I'm mad in love with you myself and&mdash;oh, well!
+That's an old tale, so we'll cut it short. I don't know what I'm going
+to do without Brady. I've got the blues so bad that&mdash;why, I cried like a
+nasty little baby down there at the&mdash;everybody lookin' at me pityingly
+and saying to themselves 'what a terrible thing grief is when it hits a
+man like that,' and thinkin' of course that I'd lost a whole family in
+Belgium or somewhere&mdash;oh, Lordy, what a blithering&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" whispered Anne, her own eyes glistening. "You are an angel,
+Simmy. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Let's talk sense," he broke in abruptly. "Braden left his business in
+my hands, and his pleasures in the hands of Dr. Cole. He says it's a
+pleasure to heal people, so that's why I put it in that way. I've got
+his will down in our safety vault, and his instructions about that silly
+foundation&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you think he may not come back?" she said, gripping her hands
+under the edge of the table.</p>
+
+<p>"You never can tell. Taking precautions, that's all, as any wise man
+would do. Oh, I'm sorry, Anne! I should have known better. Lordy, you're
+as white as&mdash;Sure, he'll come back! He isn't going to be in the least
+danger. Not the least. Nobody bothers the doctors, you know. They can go
+anywhere. They wear plug hats and all that sort of thing, and all armies
+respect a plug hat. A plug hat is a <i>silk</i> hat, you know,&mdash;the safest
+hat in the world when you're on the firing line. Everybody tries to hit
+the hat and not the occupant. It's a standing army joke. I was reading
+in the paper the other day about a fellow going clear from one end of
+the line to the other and having six hundred and some odd plug hats shot
+off his head without so much as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span> getting a hair singed. Wait! I can tell
+what you're going to ask, and I can't, on such short notice, answer the
+question. I can only say that I don't know where he got the hats. Ah,
+good! You're laughing again, and, by Jove, it becomes you to blush once
+in a while, too. Tell me, old lady,"&mdash;he leaned forward and spoke very
+seriously,&mdash;"does it mean a great deal to you?"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded her head slowly. "Yes, Simmy, it means everything."</p>
+
+<p>He drew a long breath. "That's just what I thought. One ordinary dose of
+commonsense split up between the two of you wouldn't be a bad thing for
+the case."</p>
+
+<p>"You dear old thing!" cried Anne impulsively.</p>
+
+<p>"How are Lutie and my god-son?" he inquired, with a fine air of
+solicitude.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later, Anne read the brief note that Braden had sent to
+her. She read it over and over again, and without the exultation she had
+anticipated. Her heart was too full for exultation.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Anne," it began, "I am going to the war. I am going because I am a
+coward. The world will call me brave and self-sacrificing, but it will
+not be true. I am a coward. The peril I am running away from is far
+greater than that which awaits me over there. I thought you would like
+to know. The suffering of others may cause me to forget my own at
+times." He signed it "Braden"; and below the signature there was a
+postscript that puzzled her for a long time. "If you are not also a
+coward you will return to my grandfather's house, where you belong."</p>
+
+<p>And when she had solved the meaning of that singular postscript she sent
+for Wade.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Anne Thorpe had set her heart on an eventuality. She could see nothing
+else, think of nothing else. She prayed each night to God,&mdash;and
+devoutly,&mdash;not alone for the safe return of her lover, but that God
+would send him home soon! She was conscious of no fear that he might
+never return at all.</p>
+
+<p>To the surprise of every one, with the approach of spring, she announced
+her determination to re-open the old Thorpe residence and take up her
+abode therein. George was the only one who opposed her. He was seriously
+upset by the news.</p>
+
+<p>"Good heaven, Anne, you don't <i>have</i> to live in the house, so why do it?
+It's like a tomb. I get the shivers every time I think about it. You can
+afford to live anywhere you like. It isn't as if you were obliged to
+think of expenses&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It seems rather silly <i>not</i> to live in it," she countered. "I will
+admit that at first I couldn't endure the thought of it, but that was
+when all of the horrors were fresh in my mind. Besides, I resented his
+leaving it to me. It was not in the bargain, you know. There was
+something high-handed, too, in the way I was <i>ordered</i> to live in the
+house. I had the uncanny feeling that he was trying to keep me where he
+could watch&mdash;but, of course, that was nonsense. There is no reason why I
+shouldn't live in the house, Georgie. It is&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There is a blamed good reason why you should never have lived in it,"
+he blurted out. "There's no use digging it up, however, so we'll let it
+stay buried."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> He argued bitterly, even doggedly, but finally gave it
+up. "Well," he said in the end, "if you will, you will. All the King's
+horses and all the King's men can't stop you when you've once made up
+your mind."</p>
+
+<p>A few days later she called for Lutie in the automobile and they went
+together to the grim old house near Washington Square. Her mind was made
+up, as George had put it. She was going to open the house and have it
+put in order for occupancy as soon as possible.</p>
+
+<p>She had solved the meaning of Braden's postscript. She would have to
+prove to him, first of all, that she was not afraid of the shadow that
+lay inside the walls of that grim old house. "If you are not also a
+coward you will return to my grandfather's house, where you belong." It
+was, she honestly believed, his way of telling her that if she faced the
+shadow in her own house, and put it safely behind her, her fortitude
+would not go unrewarded!</p>
+
+<p>It did not occur to her that she was beginning badly when she delayed
+going down to the house for two whole days because Lutie was unable to
+accompany her.</p>
+
+<p>The windows and doors were boarded up. There was no sign of life about
+the place when they got down from the limousine and mounted the steps at
+the heels of the footman who had run on ahead to ring the bell. They
+waited for the opening of the inner door and the shooting of the bolts
+in the storm-doors, but no sound came to their ears. Again the bell
+jangled,&mdash;how well she remembered the old-fashioned bell at the end of
+the hall!&mdash;and still no response from within.</p>
+
+<p>The two women looked at each other oddly. "Try the basement door," said
+Anne to the man. They stood at the top of the steps while the footman
+tried the iron<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span> gate that barred the way to the tradesmen's door. It was
+pad-locked.</p>
+
+<p>"I asked Simmy to meet us here at eleven," said Anne nervously. "I
+expect it will cost a good deal to do the house over as I want&mdash;Doesn't
+any one answer, Peters?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am. Maybe he's out."</p>
+
+<p>Lutie's face blanched suddenly. "My goodness, Anne, what if&mdash;what if
+he's dead in&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, for heaven's sake, Lutie," cried Anne impatiently, "don't go to
+imagining&mdash;Still it's very odd. Pound on the door, Peters,&mdash;hard."</p>
+
+<p>She shivered a little and turned away so that Lutie could not see the
+expression in her eyes. "I have had no word from him in nearly two
+weeks. He calls up once every fortnight to inquire&mdash;You are not pounding
+hard enough, Peters."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's go away," said Lutie, starting down the steps.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Anne resolutely, "we must get in somehow. He may be ill. He
+is an old man. He may be lying in there praying for help, dying for lack
+of&mdash;" Then she called out to the chauffeur. "See if you can find a
+policeman. We may have to break the door down. You see, Lutie, if he's
+in there I must get to him. We may not be too late."</p>
+
+<p>Lutie rejoined her at the top of the steps. "You're right, Anne. I don't
+know what possessed me. But, goodness, I <i>hope</i> it's nothing&mdash;" She
+shuddered. "He may have been dead for days."</p>
+
+<p>"What a horrible thing it would be if&mdash;But it doesn't matter, Lutie; I
+am going in. If you are nervous or afraid of seeing something
+unpleasant, don't come with me. Wade must be nearly seventy. He may<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span>
+have fallen or&mdash;Look! Why,&mdash;can <i>that</i> be him coming up the&mdash;" She was
+staring down the street toward Sixth Avenue. A great breath of relief
+escaped her lips as she clutched her companion's arm and pointed.</p>
+
+<p>Wade was approaching. He was still half way down the long block, and
+only an eye that knew him well could have identified him. Even at closer
+range one might have mistaken him for some one else.</p>
+
+<p>He was walking rather briskly,&mdash;in fact, he was strutting. It was not
+his gait, however, that called for remark. While he was rigidly upright
+and steady as to progress, his sartorial condition was positively
+staggering. He wore a high, shiny silk hat. It was set at just the wee
+bit of an angle and quite well back on his head. Descending his frame,
+the eye took in a costly fur-lined overcoat with a sable collar,
+properly creased trousers with a perceptible stripe, grey spats and
+unusually glistening shoes that could not by any chance have been of
+anything but patent leather. Light tan gloves, a limber walking stick, a
+white carnation and a bright red necktie&mdash;there you have all that was
+visible of him. Even at a great distance you would have observed that he
+was freshly shaved.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly his eye fell upon the automobile and then took in the smart
+looking visitors above. His pace slackened abruptly. After a moment of
+what appeared to be indecision, he came on, rather hurriedly. There had
+been a second or two of suspense in which Anne had the notion that the
+extraordinary creature was on the point of darting into a basement door,
+as if, unlike the peacock, he was ashamed of his plumage.</p>
+
+<p>He came up to them, removing his high hat with an awkwardness that
+betrayed him. His employer was staring at him with undisguised
+amazement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span> "I just stepped out for a moment, Mrs. Thorpe, to post a
+letter," said Wade, trying his best not to sink back into servility, and
+quite miserably failing. He was fumbling for his keys. The tops of the
+houses across the street appeared to interest him greatly. His gaze was
+fixed rather intently upon them. "Very sorry, Mrs. Thorpe,&mdash;dreadfully
+sorry. Ahem! Good morning. I hope you have not been waiting long. I&mdash;ah,
+here we are!" He found the key in the pocket of his fancy waistcoat, and
+bolted down the steps to unlock the gate. "Excuse me, please. I will run
+in this way and open the door from the&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wade," cried out Mrs. Thorpe, "is it really you?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked astonished&mdash;and a trifle hurt. "Who else could I be, Mrs.
+Thorpe?" Then he darted through the gate and a moment later the
+servants' door opened and closed behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"I must be dreaming," said Anne. "What in the world has come over the
+man?"</p>
+
+<p>Lutie closed one eye slowly. "There is only one thing under heaven that
+could make a man rig himself out like that,&mdash;and that thing is a woman."</p>
+
+<p>"A woman? Don't be foolish, Lutie. Wade couldn't even <i>think</i> of a
+woman. He's nearly seventy."</p>
+
+<p>"They think of 'em until they drop, my dear," said Lutie sagely. "That's
+one thing we've got to give them credit for. They keep on thinking about
+us even while they're trying to keep the other foot out of the grave.
+You are going to lose the amiable Wade, Anne dear. He's not wearing
+spats for nothing."</p>
+
+<p>Some time passed before the key turned in the inner door, and there was
+still a long wait before the bolts in the storm doors shot back and
+Wade's face appeared. He had not had the time to remove the necktie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> and
+spats, but the rest of his finery had been replaced by the humble togs
+of service&mdash;long service, you would say at a glance.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry to keep you waiting, ma'am, but&mdash;" He held the doors open and the
+two ladies entered the stuffy, unlighted hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Turn on the lights, please," said Anne quickly. Wade pushed a button
+and the lights were on. She surveyed him curiously. "Why did you take
+them off, Wade? You looked rather well in them."</p>
+
+<p>He cleared his throat gently, and the shy, set smile reappeared as if by
+magic. "It isn't necessary for me to say that I was not expecting you
+this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite obviously you were not," said Anne drily. She continued to regard
+him somewhat fixedly. Something in his expression puzzled her. "Mr.
+Dodge will be here presently. I am making arrangements to open the
+house."</p>
+
+<p>He started. "Er&mdash;not to&mdash;er&mdash;live in it yourself, of course. I was sure
+Mr. Dodge would find a way to get around the will so that you could let
+the house&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I expect to live here myself, Wade," said she. After a moment, she went
+on: "Will you care to stay on?"</p>
+
+<p>He was suddenly confused. "I&mdash;I can't give you an answer just at this
+moment, Mrs. Thorpe. It may be a few days before I&mdash;" He paused.</p>
+
+<p>"Take all the time you like, Wade," she interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>"I fancy I'd better give notice now, ma'am," he said after a moment.
+"To-day will do as well as any day for that." He seemed to straighten
+out his figure as he spoke, resuming a little of the unsuspected
+dignity<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span> that had accompanied the silk hat and the fur-lined coat.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry," said Anne,&mdash;who was not in the slightest sense sorry. Wade
+sometimes gave her the creeps.</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to explain about the&mdash;ah&mdash;the garments you saw me
+wearing&mdash;ah&mdash;I mean to say, I should have brought myself to the point of
+telling you a little later on, in any event, but now that you have
+caught me wearing of them, I dare say this is as good a time as any to
+get it over with. First of all, Mrs. Thorpe, I must preface
+my&mdash;er&mdash;confession by announcing that I am quite sure that you have
+always considered me to be an honest man and above deception and
+falsehood. Ahem! That <i>is</i> right, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"What are you trying to get at, Wade?" she cried in surprise. "You
+cannot imagine that I suspect you of&mdash;anything wrong?"</p>
+
+<p>"It may be wrong, and it may not be. I have never felt quite right about
+it. There have been times when I felt real squeamish&mdash;and a bit
+underhanded, you might say. On the other hand, I submit that it was not
+altogether reprehensible on my part to air them occasionally&mdash;and to see
+that the moths didn't&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Air them? For goodness' sake, Wade, speak plainly. Why shouldn't you
+air your own clothes? They are very nice looking and they must have cost
+you a pretty penny. Dear me, I have no right to say what you shall wear
+on the street or&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Wade's eyes grew a little wider. "Is it possible, madam, that you failed
+to recognise the&mdash;er&mdash;garments?"</p>
+
+<p>She laid her hand upon Lutie's arm, and gripped it convulsively. Her
+eyes were fixed in a fast-growing look of aversion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You do not mean that&mdash;that they were Mr. Thorpe's?" she said, in a low
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I supposed, of course, you would have remembered them," said Wade, a
+trifle sharply. "The overcoat was one that he wore every day when you
+went out for your drive with him, just before he took to his bed. I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Good heaven!" cried Anne, revolted. "You have been wearing his
+clothes?"</p>
+
+<p>"They were not really what you would call cast-off garments, ma'am," he
+explained in some haste, evidently to save his dignity. "They were
+rather new, you may remember,&mdash;that is to say, the coat and vest and
+trousers. As I recall it, the overcoat was several seasons old, and the
+hat was the last one he ordered before taking to the comfortable lounge
+hat&mdash;he always had his hats made from his own block, you see,&mdash;and as I
+was about to explain, ma'am, it seemed rather a sin to let them hang in
+the closet, food for moths and to collect dust in spite of the many
+times I brushed them. Of course, I should never have presumed to wear
+them while he was still alive, not even after he had abandoned them for
+good&mdash;No, that is a thing I have never been guilty of doing. I could not
+have done it. That is just the difference between a man-servant and a
+woman-servant. Your maid frequently went out in your gowns without your
+knowledge. I am told it is quite a common practice. At least I may claim
+for myself the credit of waiting until my employer was dead before
+venturing to cover my back with his&mdash;Yes, honest confession is good for
+the soul, ma'am. These shoes are my own, and the necktie. He could not
+abide red neckties. Of course, I need not say that the carnation I wore
+was quite fresh.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span> The remainder of my apparel was once worn by my
+beloved master. I am not ashamed to confess it."</p>
+
+<p>"How <i>could</i> you wear the clothes of a&mdash;a dead person?" cried Anne,
+cringing as if touched by some cold and slimy thing.</p>
+
+<p>"It seemed such a waste, madam. Of late I have taken to toning myself up
+a bit, and there seemed no sensible reason why I shouldn't make use of
+Mr. Thorpe's clothes,&mdash;allow me to explain that I wore only those he had
+used the least,&mdash;provided they were of a satisfactory fit. We were of
+pretty much the same size,&mdash;you will remember that, I'm sure,&mdash;and, they
+fitted me quite nicely. Of course, I should not have taken them away
+with me when I left your employ, madam. That would have been
+unspeakable. I should have restored them to the clothes presses, and you
+would have found them there when I turned over the keys and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens, man," she cried, "take them away with you when you
+go&mdash;all of them. Everything, do you hear? I give them all to you. Of
+what use could they be to me? They are yours. Take everything,&mdash;hats,
+boots, linen,&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, ma'am. That is very handsome of you. I wasn't quite sure
+that perhaps Mr. Braden wouldn't find some use for the overcoat. It is a
+very elegant coat. It cost&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wade, you are either very stupid or very insolent," she interrupted
+coldly. "We need not discuss the matter any farther. How soon do you
+expect to leave?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should say that a week would be sufficient notice, under the
+circumstances," said he, and chuckled, much to their amazement. "I may
+as well make a clean breast of it, ma'am. I am going to be married on
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span> seventeenth of next month. That's just six weeks off and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Married! You?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, madam, I trust you will not forget that I have lived a very lonely
+and you might say profitless life," he said, rubbing his hands together,
+and allowing his smile to broaden into a pleased grin. "As you may know
+in the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of
+love,&mdash;and so on. A man is as old as he feels. I can't say that I ever
+felt younger in my life than I have felt during the past month."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you joy and happiness, Wade," said Anne dumbly. She was staring
+at his smirking, seamed old face as if fascinated. "I hope she is a good
+woman and that you will find&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She is little more than a girl," said he, straightening his figure
+still a little more, remembering that he had just spoken of his own
+youthful feelings. There may have been something of the pride of
+conquest as well. "Just twenty-one last December."</p>
+
+<p>Lutie laughed out loud. He bent his head quickly and they saw that his
+lips were compressed.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, Wade," cried George's wife. "It&mdash;it really isn't
+anything to laugh at, and I'm sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right, Mrs. George," he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"Only twenty-one," murmured Anne, her gaze running over the shabby old
+figure in front of her. "My God, Wade, is she&mdash;what can she be thinking
+of?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked straight into her eyes, and spoke. "Is it so horrible for a
+young girl to marry an old man, ma'am?" he asked sorrowfully, and so
+respectfully that she was deceived into believing that he intended no
+affront to her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"They usually know what they are doing when they marry very old men,"
+she replied deliberately. "You must not overlook that fact, Wade. But
+perhaps it isn't necessary for me to remind you that young girls do not
+marry old men for love. There may be pity, or sentiment, or duty&mdash;but
+never love. More often than not it is avarice, Wade."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite true," said he. "I am glad to have you speak so frankly to me,
+ma'am. It proves that you are interested in my welfare."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is she, Wade?" she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>Lutie had passed into the library, leaving them together in the hall.
+She had experienced a sudden sensation of nausea. It was impossible for
+her to remain in the presence of this shattered old hulk and still be
+able to keep the disgust from showing itself in her eyes. She was the
+wife of a real man, and the wife of a man whom she could love and caress
+and yield herself to with a thrill of ecstasy in her blood.</p>
+
+<p>"The young lady I was speaking to you about some weeks ago, madam,&mdash;the
+daughter of my friend who conducts the <i>delicatessen</i> just below us in
+Sixth Avenue. You remember I spoke to you of the Southern lady reduced
+to a commercial career by&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I remember. I remember thinking at the time that it might be the mother
+who would prevail&mdash;I am sorry, Wade. I shouldn't have said that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's quite all right," said he amiably. "It is barely possible&mdash;ay,
+even probable,&mdash;that it was the mother who prevailed. They sometimes do,
+you know. But Marian appears to have a mind of her own. She loves me,
+Mrs. Thorpe. I am quite sure of that. It would be pretty hard to deceive
+me."</p>
+
+<p>Through all of this Anne was far from oblivious to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span> the sinister
+comparisons the man was drawing. She had always been a little afraid of
+him. Now an uneasy horror was laying its hold upon her. He had used her
+as an example in persuading a silly, unsophisticated girl to give
+herself to him. He had gone about his courtship in the finery his dead
+master had left behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"I thank you for your good wishes, Mrs. Thorpe," he went on, smoothly.
+"If it is not too much to ask, I should like to have you say a few good
+words for me to Marian some day soon. She would be very greatly
+influenced by the opinion of so great a lady as&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But I thought you said it was settled," she broke in sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"It is settled," he said. "But if you would only do me the favour
+of&mdash;er&mdash;advising her to name an earlier day than the seventeenth, I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot advise her, Wade," said she firmly. "It is out of the
+question."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," he said, lowering his gaze. "Mr. Thorpe was my best friend
+as well as my master. I thought, for his sake, you might consent to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You must do your own pleading, Wade," she interrupted, a red spot
+appearing in each cheek. Then rashly: "You may continue to court her in
+Mr. Thorpe's clothes but you need not expect his wife to lend her
+assistance also."</p>
+
+<p>His eyes glittered. "I am sorry if I have offended you, ma'am. And I
+thank you for being honest and straightforward with me. It is always
+best."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not mean to hurt your feelings, Wade," she began, half-sorry for
+her remark.</p>
+
+<p>"Not in the least, ma'am. Nothing can hurt my feelings. You see, I lived
+with Mr. Thorpe a great deal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> longer than you did. I got quite beyond
+being hurt."</p>
+
+<p>She drew a step nearer. "Wade," she said quietly, "I am going to advise
+you, not this wretched girl who is planning to marry you. How old are
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two score and a half and five," he answered promptly. Evidently he had
+uttered the glib lie before, and as on another occasion he waited for
+his listener to reduce the words to figures.</p>
+
+<p>"Fifty-five," said Anne, after some time. She was not good at
+mathematics. "I thought you were older than that. It doesn't matter,
+however. You are fairly well-off, I believe. Upwards of fifty thousand
+dollars, no doubt. Now, I shall be quite frank with you. This girl is
+taking you for your money. Just a moment, if you please. I do not know
+her, and I may be doing her an injustice. You have compared her to me in
+reaching your conclusions. You do not deceive yourself any more than Mr.
+Thorpe deceived himself. He knew I did not love him, and you must know
+that the same condition exists in this affair of yours. You have thanked
+me for being honest. Well, I was honest with Mr. Thorpe. I would have
+been as true as steel to him, even if he had lived to be an hundred. The
+question you must ask of yourself is this, Wade: Will this girl be as
+true as steel to you? Is there no other man to be afraid of?"</p>
+
+<p>He listened intently. A certain greyness crept into his hollow cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Was there no other man when you married Mr. Thorpe?" he asked levelly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there was," she surprised him by replying. "An honest man,
+however. I think you know&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She scarcely heard Wade as he went on, now in a most conciliatory way.
+"It may interest you to know that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span> I have arranged to buy out the
+delicatessen. We expect to enlarge and tidy the place up just as soon as
+we can get around to it. I believe I shall be very happy, once I get
+into active business. Mrs. Gadscomb,&mdash;that's the present mother,&mdash;I mean
+to say, the present owner, Marian's mother, has agreed to conduct the
+place as heretofore, at a very excellent salary, and I have no fear as
+to&mdash;But excuse me for going on like this, ma'am. No doubt you would like
+to talk about your own affairs instead of listening to mine. You said
+something about opening the house and coming back here to live. Of
+course, I shall consider it my duty to remain here just as long as I can
+be of service to you. There will be a little plumbing needed on the
+third floor, and I fancy a general cleaning&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank heaven, there is Mr. Dodge at last," cried Anne, as the bell
+jangled almost over her head, startling her into a little cry of alarm.</p>
+
+<p>As Wade shuffled toward the front door, once more the simple slave of
+circumstance, she fled quickly into the library.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Lutie," she cried, sinking into a chair beside the long, familiar
+table, and beating with her clenched hands upon the surface of it, "I
+know at last just how I look to other people. My God in heaven, what a
+<i>thing I</i> must seem to you."</p>
+
+<p>Lutie came swiftly out of the shadows and laid her hands upon the
+shoulders of her sister-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to thank the Lord, dear old girl, for the revelation," she
+said gently. "I guess it's just what you've needed." Then she leaned
+over and pressed her warm, soft cheek to Anne's cold one. "If I owned
+this house," she said almost in a whisper, "I'd renovate it from top to
+bottom. I'd get rid of more than old Wade<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span> and the old clothes. The best
+and cheapest way to renovate it would be to set fire to a barrel of
+kerosene in the basement."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how horrible for that girl to marry a dreadful, shrivelled old man
+like Wade. The skin on his hands is all wrinkled and loose&mdash;I couldn't
+help noticing it as I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hello!" called out Simmy from the doorway, peering into the darkened
+room. "Where the deuce are you? Ah, that's better, Wade." The caretaker
+had switched on the lights in the big chandelier. "Sorry to be late,
+Anne. Morning, Lutie. How's my god-son? Couldn't get here a minute
+sooner. You see, Anne, I've got other clients besides you. Braden, for
+instance. I've been carrying out his instructions in regard to that
+confounded trusteeship. The whole matter is to be looked after by a
+Trust Company from now on. Simplifies matters enormously."</p>
+
+<p>Anne started up. "Isn't&mdash;isn't he coming back to America?" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure,&mdash;unless they pink him some day. My goodness, you don't suppose
+for an instant that he could manage the whole of that blooming
+foundation and have any time to spare for <i>hopeful</i> humanity,&mdash;do you?
+Why, it will take a force of half a dozen men to keep the books straight
+and look after the ever-increasing capital. By the time old Brady is
+ready to start the ball rolling there will be so much money stored up
+for the job that Rockefeller will be ashamed to mention the pitiful
+fortune he controls. In the meantime he can go on saving people's lives
+while the trust company saves the Foundation."</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Thorpe returned to New York about the middle of May, in the tenth month
+of the war. The true facts concerning the abrupt severance of his
+connections with the hospital corps in France were never divulged. His
+confr&egrave;res and his superiors maintained a discreet and loyal silence. It
+was to Simmy that he explained the cause of his retirement. Word had
+gone out among the troops that he was the American doctor whose
+practices were infinitely more to be feared than the bullets from an
+enemy's guns.... It was announced from headquarters that he was
+returning to the United States on account of ill-health. He had worked
+hard and unceasingly and had exposed himself to grave physical
+hardships. He came home with a medal for conspicuous and unexampled
+valour while actually under fire. One report had it that on more than
+one occasion he appeared not only to scorn death but to invite it, so
+reckless were his deeds.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Meanwhile James Marraville died in great agony. Those nearest to him
+said, in so many words, that it was a great pity he did not die at the
+time of the operation.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"But," began one of the reporters at the dock, "you are said to have
+risked your own life, Dr. Thorpe, on at least half a dozen occasions
+when you exposed yourself to the fire of the enemy by going out in front
+after men who had fallen and were as good as dead when you got<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span> to them.
+In every case, we are told the men died on the stretchers while they
+were being carried to the rear. Do you mind telling us why you brought
+those men back when you knew that they were bound to die&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You have been misinformed," interrupted Thorpe. "One of those men did
+not die. I did all that was possible to save the lives as well as the
+bodies of those wretched fellows. Not one of them appeared to have a
+chance. The one who survived was in the most hopeless condition of them
+all. He is alive to-day, but without legs or arms. He is only
+twenty-two. He may live to be seventy. The others died. Will you say
+that they are not better off than he? And yet we tried to save them all.
+That is what we were there for. I saw a man run a bayonet through the
+heart of his own brother one day. We were working over him at the time
+and we knew that our efforts would be useless. The brother knew it also.
+He merely did the thing we refused to do. You want to know why I
+deliberately picked out of all the wounded the men who seemed to have
+the least chance for recovery, and brought them back to a place of
+safety. Well, I will tell you quite frankly, why I chose those men from
+among all the others. They were being left behind. They were as good as
+dead, as you say. I wanted to treat the most hopeless cases that could
+be found. I wanted to satisfy myself. I went about it quite
+cold-bloodedly,&mdash;not bravely, as the papers would have it,&mdash;and I
+confess that I passed by men lying out there who might have had a
+chance, looking for those who apparently had none. Seven of them died,
+as you say,&mdash;seven of the 'hopelessly afflicted.' One of them lived. You
+will now say that having proved to my own satisfaction that no man can
+be 'hopelessly afflicted,' I should be ready to admit the fallacy of my
+preachings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span> But you are wrong. I am more firmly intrenched in my
+position than ever before. That man's life should not have been saved.
+We did him a cruel wrong in saving it for him. He wanted to die, he
+still wants to die. He will curse God to the end of his days because he
+was allowed to live. Some day his relatives will exhibit him in public,
+as one of the greatest of freaks, and people will pay to enter the side
+shows to see him. They will carry him about in shawl straps. He will
+never be able to protest, for he has lost the power of speech. He can
+only <i>see</i> and <i>hear</i>. Will you be able to look into the agonised eyes
+of that man as he lies propped up in a chair, a mere trunk, and believe
+that he is glad to be alive? Will you then rejoice over the fact that we
+saved him from a much nobler grave than the one he occupies in the
+side-show, where all the world may stare at him at so much per head? An
+inglorious reward, gentlemen, for a brave soldier of the Republic."</p>
+
+<p>"We may quote you as saying, Dr. Thorpe, that you have not abandoned
+your theories?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. I shall go on preaching, as you are pleased to call my
+advocacy. A great many years from to-day&mdash;centuries, no doubt,&mdash;the
+world will think as I do now. Thank you, gentlemen, for your courtesy
+in&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you heard that James Marraville died last week, Dr. Thorpe?" broke
+in one of the reporters.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said he, quite unmoved. "I am not surprised, however. I gave him
+five or six months."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you expect him to get entirely well?" demanded the man,
+surprised.</p>
+
+<p>Braden shook his head, smiling. "No one expected that, gentlemen,&mdash;not
+even Mr. Marraville."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But every one thought that the operation was a success, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And so it was, gentlemen," said Thorpe unsmilingly; "a very terrible
+success."</p>
+
+<p>"Gee, if we print that as coming from you, Dr. Thorpe, it will create
+the biggest sensation in years."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I haven't the least doubt that you will print it," said Thorpe.</p>
+
+<p>There was a short silence. Then the spokesman said: "I think I speak for
+every man here when I say that we will not print it, Dr. Thorpe. We
+understand, but the people wouldn't." He deliberately altered the
+character of the interview and inquired if German submarines had been
+sighted after the steamship left Liverpool. The whole world was still
+shuddering over the disaster to the <i>Lusitania</i>, torpedoed the week
+before, with the loss of over a thousand souls.</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe drove uptown with Simmy Dodge, who would not hear of his going to
+an hotel, but conducted him to his own apartment where he was to remain
+as long as he pleased.</p>
+
+<p>"Get yourself pulled together, old chap, before you take up any work,"
+advised Simmy. "You look pretty seedy. We're going to have a hot summer,
+they say. Don't try to do too much until you pick up a bit. Too bad
+they're fighting all over the continent of Europe. If they weren't, hang
+me if I wouldn't pack you onto a boat and take you over there for a good
+long rest, in spite of what happened to the <i>Lusitania</i>. We'll go up
+into the mountains in June, Brady,&mdash;or what do you say to skipping out
+to the San Francisco fair for a few&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You're looking thin and sort of pegged out, old boy," began Simmy
+soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm all right, Simmy. Sound as anything. I don't mind telling you that
+it wasn't my health that drove me out of the service,&mdash;and that's what
+hurts. They&mdash;they didn't want me. They thought it was best for me to get
+out."</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord!" gasped Simmy, struggling between amazement and indignation.
+"What kind of blithering fools have they got over&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"They are not blithering fools," said Thorpe soberly. "The staff would
+not have turned me out, I'm sure of that. I was doing good work, Simmy,"
+he went on rapidly, eagerly, "even though I do say it myself. Everybody
+was satisfied, I'm sure. Night and day,&mdash;all the time,&mdash;mind you, and I
+was standing up under it better than any of them. But, you see, it
+wasn't the staff that did it. It was the poor devil of a soldier out
+there in the trenches. They found out who I was. Newspapers, of course.
+Well, that tells the story. They were afraid of me. But I am not
+complaining. I do not blame them. God knows it was hard enough for them
+to face death out there at the front without having to think of&mdash;well,
+getting it anyhow if they fell into my hands. I&mdash;But there's no use
+speaking of it, Simmy. I wanted you to know why I got out, and I want
+Anne to know. As for the rest, let them think I was sick or&mdash;cowardly if
+they like."</p>
+
+<p>Simmy was silent for a long time. He said afterwards that it was all he
+could do to keep from crying as he looked at the pale, gaunt face of his
+friend and listened to the verdict of the French soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see the necessity for telling Anne," he said, at last, pulling
+rather roughly at his little moustache.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span> They were seated at one of the
+broad windows in Simmy's living-room, drinking in the cool air that came
+up from the west in advance of an impending thunderstorm. The day had
+been hot and stifling. "No sense in letting her know, old man. Secret
+between you and me, if you don't&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd rather she knew," said Thorpe briefly. "In fact, she will have to
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe was staring out over the Park, and did not answer. Simmy found
+another cigarette and lighted it, scorching his fingers while furtively
+watching his companion's face.</p>
+
+<p>"How is Anne, Simmy?" demanded Thorpe abruptly. There was a fierce,
+eager light in his eyes, but his manner was strangely repressed. "Where
+is she?"</p>
+
+<p>Simmy took a deep breath. "She's well and she's at home."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean,&mdash;down there in the old&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The old Thorpe house. I don't know what's got into the girl, Brady.
+First she swears she won't live in the house, and then she turns
+around,&mdash;just like that,&mdash;and moves in. Workmen all over the place,
+working overtime and all that sort of thing,&mdash;with Anne standing around
+punchin' 'em with a sharp stick if they don't keep right on the job. Top
+to bottom,&mdash;renovated, redecorated, brightened up,&mdash;wouldn't recognise
+the place as&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Is she living there&mdash;alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. New lot of servants and&mdash;By the way, old Wade has&mdash;what do you
+think he has done?"</p>
+
+<p>"How long has she been living down there?" demanded the other,
+impatiently. His eyes were gleaming.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, old Wade has gone and got married," went on Simmy, deliberately
+ignoring the eager question.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span> "Married a girl of twenty or something
+like that. Chucked his job, bloomed out as a dandy,&mdash;spats and chamois
+gloves and silk hats,&mdash;cleared out three weeks ago for a
+honeymoon,&mdash;rather pretty girl, by the way,&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Braden's attention had been caught at last and held. "Wade married? Good
+Lord! Oh, I say, Simmy, you <i>can't</i> expect me to believe&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll see. He has shaken the dust of Thorpe house from his person and
+is gallivanting around in lavender perfumes and purple linen."</p>
+
+<p>"My God! That old hulk and&mdash;twenty years, did you say? Why, the damned
+old scoundrel! After all he has seen and&mdash;" His jaws closed suddenly
+with a snap, and his eyes narrowed into ugly slits.</p>
+
+<p>"Be careful, Brady, old top," said Simmy, shaking his head. "It won't do
+to call Wade names, you know. Just stop and think for a second or two."</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe relaxed with a gesture of despair. "You are right, Simmy. Why
+should I blame Wade?"</p>
+
+<p>He got up and began pacing the floor, his hands clenched behind his
+back. Simmy smoked in silence, apparently absorbed in watching the angry
+clouds that blackened the western sky.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Thorpe resumed his seat in the window. His eyes did not meet
+Simmy's as the latter turned toward him. He look straight out over the
+tops of the great apartment houses on the far side of the Park.</p>
+
+<p>"How long has she been living down there alone?" he asked again.</p>
+
+<p>"Five or six weeks."</p>
+
+<p>"When did you last see her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday. She's been dreadfully nervous ever since the blowing up of
+the <i>Lusitania</i>. I asked her to go to the pier with me. She refused. See
+here, Brady,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span> said Simmy, rising suddenly and laying his hand on the
+other's shoulder, "what are you going to do about Anne?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. Anne can never be anything to me, nor I to her," said Thorpe,
+white-faced and stern. His face was rigid.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! You love her, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. That has nothing to do with it, however."</p>
+
+<p>"And she loves you. I suppose that hasn't anything to do with it,
+either. I suppose it is right and proper and natural that you both
+should go on loving each other to the end of time without realising the
+joys of&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't try to argue the&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's right that you should let that glorious, perfect young creature
+wither and droop with time, grow old without&mdash;oh, Lordy, what a damn
+fool you are, Brady! There isn't the slightest reason in this world why
+you shouldn't get married and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop that, Simmy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Here you are, two absolutely sound, strong, enduring specimens of
+humanity,&mdash;male and female,&mdash;loving each other, wanting each other,&mdash;and
+yet you say you can never be anything to each other! Hasn't nature
+anything to do with it? Are you going to sit there and tell me that for
+some obstinate, mawkish reason you think you ought to deprive her of the
+one man in all this world that she wants and must have? It doesn't
+matter what she did a couple of years ago. It doesn't matter that she
+was,&mdash;and still may be designing,&mdash;the fact remains that she is the
+woman you love and that you are her man. She married old Mr. Thorpe
+deliberately, I grant you. She doesn't deny it. She loved you when she
+did it. And you can't, to save your soul, hate her for it. You ought to
+do so, I admit. But you don't, and that solves the problem. You want<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span>
+her now even more than you did two years ago. You can't defy nature, old
+chap. You may defy convention, and honour, and even common decency, but
+you can't beat nature out of its due. Now, look me in the eye! Why can't
+you marry Anne and&mdash;be everything to her, instead of nothing, as you put
+it? Answer me!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is impossible," groaned Thorpe. "You cannot understand, Simmy."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing is impossible," said Simmy, the optimist. "If you are afraid of
+what people will say about it, then all I have to say is that you are
+worse than a coward: you are a stupid ass. People talked themselves
+black in the face when she married your grandfather, and what good did
+it do them? Not a particle of good. They roasted her to a fare-you-well,
+and they called her a mean, avaricious, soulless woman, and still she
+survives. Everybody expects her to marry you. When she does it,
+everybody will smile and say 'I told you so,'&mdash;and sneer a little,
+perhaps,&mdash;but, hang it all, what difference should that make? This is a
+big world. It is busier than you think. It will barely take the time to
+sniff twice or maybe three times at you and Anne and then it will hustle
+along on the scent of something new. It's always smelling out things,
+but that's all it amounts to. It overlooks divorces, liaisons,
+murders,&mdash;everything, in fact, except disappointments. It never forgives
+the man or woman who disappoints it. Now, I know something else that's
+on your mind. You think that because you operated&mdash;fatally, we'll
+say,&mdash;on your grandfather, that that is an obstacle in the way of your
+marriage with Anne. Tommy-rot! I've heard of a hundred doctors who have
+married the widows of their patients, and their friends usually
+congratulate 'em, which goes to prove something, doesn't it? You are
+expected by ninety per cent. of the inhabitants of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> greater New York to
+marry Anne Tresslyn. They may have forgotten everything else, but that
+one thing they <i>do</i> expect. They said it would happen and it must. They
+said it when Anne married your grandfather, they said it when he died
+and they say it now, even though their minds are filled with other
+things."</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe eyed him steadily throughout this earnest appeal. "Do you think
+that Anne expects it, Simmy?" he inquired, a harsh note in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>Simmy had to think quickly. "I think she does," he replied, and always
+was to wonder whether he said the right thing. "She is in love with you.
+She wants you, and anything that Anne wants she expects to get. I don't
+mean that in a disparaging sense, either. If she doesn't marry you,
+she'll never marry any one. She'll wait for you till the end of her
+days. Even if you were to marry some one else, she'd&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not marry any one else," said Thorpe, almost fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;She'd go on waiting and wanting you just the same, and you would go
+on wanting her," concluded Simmy. "You will never consider your life
+complete until you have Anne Tresslyn as a part of it. She wants to make
+you happy. That's what most women want when they're in love with a man."</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you, Simmy, I cannot marry Anne. I love her,&mdash;God knows how
+terribly I want her,&mdash;in spite of everything. It <i>is</i> nature. You can't
+kill love, no matter how hard you try. Some one else has to do the
+killing. Anne is keeping it alive in me. She has tortured my love,
+beaten it, outraged it, but all the time she has been secretly feeding
+it, caressing it, never for an instant letting it out of her grasp. You
+cannot understand, Simmy. You've never been in love with a woman like
+Anne. She may have despaired at times, but she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> has never given up the
+fight, not even when she must have thought that I despised her. She knew
+that my love was mortally hurt, but do you think she would let it die?
+No! She will keep it alive forever,&mdash;and she will suffer, too, in doing
+so. But what's that to Anne? She&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Just a second, old chap," broke in Simmy. "You are forgetting that Anne
+wants you to be happy."</p>
+
+<p>"God, how happy I could have been with her!"</p>
+
+<p>"See here, will you go down there and see her?" demanded Simmy.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't do that,&mdash;I can't do it. Simmy&mdash;" he lowered his voice to
+almost a whisper,&mdash;"I can't trust myself. I don't know what would happen
+if I were to see her again,&mdash;be near her, alone with her. This longing
+for her has become almost unbearable. I thought of her every minute of
+the time I was out there at the front&mdash;Yes, I had to put the heaviest
+restraint upon myself at times to keep from chucking the whole thing and
+dashing back here to get her, to take her, to keep her,&mdash;maybe to kill
+her, I don't know. Now I realise that I was wrong in coming back to
+America at all. I should have gone&mdash;oh, anywhere else in the world. But
+here I am, and, strangely enough, I feel stronger, more able to resist.
+It was the distance between us that made it so terrible. I can resist
+her here, but, by heaven, I couldn't over there. I could have come all
+the way back from France to see her, but I can't go from here down to
+Washington Square,&mdash;so that shows you how I stand in the matter."</p>
+
+<p>"Now I know the real reason why you came back to little old New York,"
+said Simmy sagely, and Thorpe was not offended.</p>
+
+<p>"In the first place I cannot marry her while she still has in her
+possession the money for which she sold herself and me," said Thorpe,
+musing aloud. "You ought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span> to at least be able to understand that, Simmy?
+No matter how much I love her, I can't make her my wife with that
+accursed money standing&mdash;But there's no use talking about <i>that</i>. There
+is an even graver reason why I ought not to marry her, an insurmountable
+reason. I cannot tell you what it is, but I fear that down in your heart
+you suspect."</p>
+
+<p>Simmy leaned forward in his chair. "I think I know, old man," he said
+simply. "But even that shouldn't stand in the way. I don't see why you
+should have been kind and gentle and merciful to Mr. Thorpe, and refuse
+to be the same, in a different way, to her." His face broke into a
+whimsical smile. "Anne is what you might call hopelessly afflicted.
+Dammit all, put her out of her misery!"</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe stared at him aghast. The utter banality of the remark left him
+speechless. For the first time in their acquaintance, he misjudged Simmy
+Dodge. He drew back from him, scowling.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a pretty rotten thing to say, Simmy," he said, after a moment.
+"Pretty poor sort of wit."</p>
+
+<p>"It wasn't meant for wit, my friend," said Simmy seriously. "I meant
+every word of it, no matter how rotten it may have sounded. If you are
+going to preach mercy and all that sort of silly rot, practise it
+whenever it is possible. There's no law against your being kind to Anne
+Tresslyn. You don't have to be governed by a commission or anything like
+that. She's just as deserving as any one, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Which is another way of saying that she <i>deserves</i> my love?" cried
+Thorpe angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"She's got it, so it really doesn't matter whether she deserves it or
+not. You can't take it away from her. You've tried it and&mdash;well, she's
+still got it, so there's no use arguing."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Do you think it gives me any happiness to love her as I do?" cried the
+other. "Do you think I am finding joy in the prospect of never having
+her for my own&mdash;all for my own? Do you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my boy, do you think she is finding much happiness living down
+there in that old house all alone? Do you think she is getting much real
+joy out of her little old two millions? By the way, why is she living
+down there at all? I can tell you. She's doing it because she's got
+nerve enough to play the game out as she began it. She's doing it
+because she believes it will cause you to think better of her. This is a
+guess on my part, but I know darned well she wouldn't be doing it if
+there wasn't some good and sufficient reason."</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe nodded his head slowly, an ironic smile on his lips. "Yes, she
+<i>is</i> playing the game, but not as she began it. I am not so sure that I
+think better of her for doing it."</p>
+
+<p>"Brady, I hope you'll forgive me for saying something harsh and
+disrespectful about your grandfather, but here goes. He played you a
+shabby trick in taking Anne away from you in the first place. No matter
+how shabbily Anne behaved toward you, he was worse than she. Then he
+virtually compelled you to perform an operation that&mdash;well, I'll not say
+it. We can forgive him for that. He was suffering. And then he went out
+of his way to leave that old house down there to Anne, knowing full well
+that if she continued to live in it, it would be a sort of prison to
+her. She can't sell it, she can't rent it. She's got to live in it, or
+abandon it altogether. I call it a pretty mean sort of trick to play on
+her, if you'll forgive my&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She doesn't have to live in it," said Thorpe doggedly.</p>
+
+<p>"She is going to live there until you take her out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> it, bodily if you
+please, and you are going to become so all-fired sorry for her that
+you'll&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord, Simmy," shouted Thorpe, springing to his feet with a bitter
+imprecation, "don't go on like this. I can't stand it. I know how she
+hates it. I know how frightened, how miserable she is down there. It
+<i>is</i> a prison,&mdash;no, worse than that, it is haunted by something that you
+cannot possibly&mdash;My God, it must be awful for her, all
+alone,&mdash;shivering, listening,&mdash;something crawly&mdash;something sinister and
+accusing&mdash;Why, she&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Here, here, old fellow!" cried Simmy in alarm. "Don't go off your nut.
+You're talking like a crazy man,&mdash;and, hang it all, I don't like the
+look in your eye. Gosh, if it gives you the creeps&mdash;who don't have to be
+down there of nights,&mdash;what must it be for that shrinking,
+sensitive&mdash;Hey! Where are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going down there to see her. I'm going to tell her that I was a cur
+to write what I did to her the day I sailed. I&mdash;" He stopped short near
+the door, and faced his friend. His hands were clenched.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall see her just this once,&mdash;never again if I can avoid it," he
+said. "Just to tell her that I don't want her to live in that house.
+She's got to get out. I'll not know a moment's peace until she is out of
+that house."</p>
+
+<p>Simmy heard the door slam and a few minutes later the opening and
+closing of the elevator cage. He sat quite still, looking out over the
+trees. He was a rather pathetic figure.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if I'd be so loyal to him if I had a chance myself," he mused.
+"Oh, Lordy, Lordy!" He closed his eyes as if in pain.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>The storm burst in all its fury when Thorpe was half way down the Avenue
+in the taxi he had picked up at the Plaza. Pedestrians scurried in all
+directions, seeking shelter from the wind and rain; the blackness of
+night had fallen upon the city; the mighty roar of a thousand cannon
+came out of the clouds; terrifying flashes rent the skies. The man in
+the taxi neither saw nor heard the savage assault of the elements. He
+was accustomed to the roar of battle. He was used to thinking with
+something worse than thunder in his ears, and something worse than
+raindrops beating about him.</p>
+
+<p>He knew that Anne was afraid of the thunder and the lightning. More than
+once she had huddled close to him and trembled in the haven of his arms,
+her fingers to her ears, while storms raged about them. He was thinking
+of her now, down there in that grim old house, trembling in some
+darkened place, her eyes wide with alarm, her heart beating wildly with
+terror,&mdash;ah, he remembered so well how wildly her heart could beat!</p>
+
+<p>He had forgotten his words to Simmy: "I can't trust myself!" There was
+but one object in his mind and that was to retract the unnecessary
+challenge with which he had closed his letter to her in January. Why
+should he have demanded of her a sacrifice for which he could offer no
+consolation? He now admitted to himself that when he wrote the blighting
+postscript he was inspired by a mean desire to provoke anticipation on
+her part. "If you also are not a coward, you will return to my
+grandfather's house, where you belong." What<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span> right had he to revive the
+hope that she accounted dead? She still had her own life to live, and in
+her own way. He was not to be a part of it. He was sure of that, and yet
+he had given her something on which to sustain the belief that a time
+would come when their lives might find a common channel and run along
+together to the end. She had taken his words as he had hoped she would,
+and now he was filled with shame and compunction.</p>
+
+<p>The rain was coming down in sheets when the taxi-cab slid up to the curb
+in front of the house that had been his home for thirty years. His home!
+Not hers, but <i>his</i>! She did not belong there, and he did. He would
+never cease to regard this fine old house as his home.</p>
+
+<p>He was forced to wait for the deluge to cease or to slacken. For many
+minutes he sat there in the cab, his gaze fixed rigidly on the
+streaming, almost opaque window, trying to penetrate the veil of water
+that hung between him and the walls of the house not twenty feet away.
+At last his impatience got the better of him, and, the downpour having
+diminished slightly, he made a sudden swift dash from the vehicle and up
+the stone steps into the shelter of the doorway. Here he found company.
+Four workmen, evidently through for the day, were flattened against the
+walls of the vestibule.</p>
+
+<p>They made way for him. Without realising what he did, he hastily
+snatched his key-ring from his pocket, found the familiar key he had
+used for so many years, and inserted it in the lock. The door opened at
+once and he entered the hall. As he closed the door behind him, his eyes
+met the curious gaze of the four workmen, and for the first time he
+realised what he had done through force of habit. For a moment or two he
+stood petrified, trying to grasp the full significance of his act.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span> He
+had never rung the door-bell of that house,&mdash;not in all the years of his
+life. He had always entered in just this way. His grandfather had given
+him a key when he was thirteen,&mdash;the same key that he now held in his
+fingers and at which he stared in a sort of stupefaction.</p>
+
+<p>He was suddenly aware of another presence in the hall,&mdash;a figure in
+white that stood near the foot of the staircase, motionless where it had
+been arrested by the unexpected opening of the door,&mdash;a tall, slender
+figure.</p>
+
+<p>He saw her hand go swiftly to her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;why didn't you&mdash;let me know?" she murmured in a voice so low that
+he could hardly hear the words. "Why do you come in this way to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What must you think of me for&mdash;for breaking in upon you&mdash;" he began,
+jerkily. "I don't know what possessed me to&mdash;you see, I still have the
+key I used while I lived&mdash;Oh, I'm sorry, Anne! I can't explain. It just
+seemed natural to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you come without letting me know?" she cried, and now her voice
+was shrill from the effort she made to suppress her agitation.</p>
+
+<p>"I should have telephoned," he muttered. Suddenly he tore the key from
+the ring. "Here! It does not belong to me. I should not have the key to
+your&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Keep it," she said, drawing back. "I want you to keep it. I shall be
+happier if I know that you have the key to the place where I live. No! I
+will not take it."</p>
+
+<p>To her infinite surprise, he slipped the key into his pocket. She had
+expected him to throw it upon the floor as she resolutely placed her
+hands behind her back.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," he said, rather roughly. "It is quite safe with me. I shall
+never forget myself again as I have to-day."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>For the first time since entering the door, he allowed his gaze to sweep
+the lofty hallway. But for the fact that he knew he had come into the
+right house, he would have doubted his own senses. There was nothing
+here, to remind him of the sombre, gloomy place that he had known from
+childhood's earliest days. All of the massive, ugly trappings were gone,
+and all of the gloom. The walls were bright, the rugs gay, the woodwork
+cheerfully white. He glanced quickly down the length of the hall
+and&mdash;yes, the suit of mail was gone! He was conscious of a great relief.</p>
+
+<p>Then his eyes fell upon her again. A strange, wistful little smile had
+appeared while his gaze went roving.</p>
+
+<p>"You see that I am trying not to be a coward," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"What a beast I was to write that thing to you," he cried. "I came down
+here to tell you that I am sorry. I don't want you to live here, Anne.
+It is&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but I am here," she said, "and here I shall stay. We have done
+wonders with the place. You will not recognise it,&mdash;not a single corner
+of it, Braden. It was all very well as the home of a lonely old man who
+loved it, but it was not quite the place for a lonely young woman who
+hated it. Come! Let me show you the library. It is finished. I think you
+will say it is a woman's room now and not a man's. Some of the rooms
+upstairs are still unfinished. My own room is a joy. Everything is new
+and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Anne," he broke in, almost harshly, "it will come to nothing, you may
+as well know the truth now. It will save you a great deal of
+unhappiness, and it will allow you to look elsewhere for&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Come into the library," she interrupted. "I already have had a great
+deal of unhappiness in that room,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span> so I fancy it won't be so hard to
+hear what you have come to say to me if you say it to me there."</p>
+
+<p>He followed her to the library door, and there stopped in amazement,
+unwilling to credit his eyes. He was looking into the brightest, gayest
+room he had ever seen. An incredible transformation had taken place. The
+vast, stately, sober room had become dainty, exquisite, enchanting.
+Here, instead of oppressive elegance, was the most delicate beauty; here
+was exemplified at a glance the sweet, soft touch of woman in contrast
+to the heavy, uncompromising hand of man. Here was sweetness and
+freshness, and the sparkle of youth, and gone were the grim things of
+age. Here was light and happiness, and the fragrance of woman.</p>
+
+<p>"In heaven's name, what <i>have</i> you done to this room?" he cried. "Am I
+in my right senses? Can this be my grandfather's house?"</p>
+
+<p>She smiled, and did not answer. She was watching his face with eager,
+wistful eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's&mdash;it's unbelievable," he went on, an odd tremor in his voice.
+"It is wonderful. It is&mdash;why, it is beautiful, Anne. I could not have
+dreamed that such a change,&mdash;What has become of everything? What have
+you done with all the big, clumsy, musty things that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"They are in a storage warehouse," said she crisply. "There isn't so
+much as a carpet-tack left of the old regime. Everything is gone. Every
+single thing that was here with your grandfather is gone. I alone am
+left. When I came down here two months ago the place was filled with the
+things that you remember. I had made up my mind to stay here,&mdash;but not
+with the things that I remembered. The first thing I did was to clean
+out the house from cellar to garret. I am not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span> permitted to sell the
+contents of this house, but there was nothing to prevent me from storing
+them. Your grandfather overlooked that little point, I fear. In any
+event, that was the first thing I did. Everything is gone, mind
+you,&mdash;even to the portrait that used to hang over the mantelpiece
+there,&mdash;and it was the only cheerful object in the house. I wish I could
+show you my boudoir, my bedroom, and the rooms in which Mr. Thorpe
+lived. You&mdash;you would love them."</p>
+
+<p>He was now standing in the middle of the room, staring about him at the
+handiwork of Aladdin.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it isn't&mdash;it will not be so dreadful, after all," he said slowly.
+"You have made it all so lovely, so homelike, so much like yourself
+that&mdash;you will not find it so hard to live here as I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted you to like it, Braden. I wanted you to see the place,&mdash;to see
+what I have done to make it bright and cheerful and endurable. No, I
+sha'n't find it so hard to live here. I was sure that some day you would
+come to see me here and I wanted you to feel that&mdash;that it wasn't as
+hard for me as you thought it would be. I have been a coward, though. I
+confess that I could not have lived here with all those things about
+to&mdash;to remind me of&mdash;You see, I just <i>had</i> to make the place possible. I
+hope you are not offended with me for what I have done. I have played
+havoc with sentiment and association, and you may feel that I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Offended? Good heavens, Anne, why should I be offended? You have a
+right to do what you like here."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but I do not forget that it is <i>your</i> home, Braden, not mine. It
+will always be home to you, and I fear it can never be that to me. This
+is not much in the way of a library now, I confess. Thirty cases of
+books are safely stored away,&mdash;all of those old first editions and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span>
+things of that sort. They meant nothing to me. I don't know what a first
+edition is, and I never could see any sense in those funny things he
+called missals, nor the incunabula, if that's the way you pronounce it.
+You may have liked them, Braden. If you care for them, if you would like
+to have them in your own house, you must let me <i>lend</i> them to you.
+Everybody borrows books, you know. It would be quite an original idea to
+lend a whole library, wouldn't it? If you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"They are better off in the storage warehouse," he interrupted, trying
+to steel himself against her rather plaintive friendliness.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you intend to shake hands with me?" she asked suddenly. "I am so
+glad that you have come home,&mdash;come back, I mean,&mdash;and&mdash;" She advanced
+with her hand extended.</p>
+
+<p>It was a perilous moment for both of them when she laid her hand in his.
+The blood in both of them leaped to the thrill of contact. The impulse
+to clasp her in his arms, to smother her with kisses, to hold her so
+close that nothing could ever unlock his arms, was so overpowering that
+his head swam dizzily and for an instant he was deprived of vision. How
+he ever passed through that crisis in safety was one of the great
+mysteries of his life. She was his for the taking! She was ready.</p>
+
+<p>Their hands fell apart. A chill swept through the veins of both,&mdash;the
+ice-cold chill of a great reaction. They would go on loving each other,
+wanting each other, perhaps forever, but a moment like the one just past
+would never come again. Bliss, joy, complete satisfaction might come,
+but that instant of longing could never be surpassed.</p>
+
+<p>He was very white. For a long time he could not trust himself to speak.
+The fight was a hard one, and it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span> was not yet over. She was a challenge
+to all that he tried to master. He wondered why there was a smile in her
+lovely, soft eyes, while in his own there must have been the hardness of
+steel. And he wondered long afterward how she could have possessed the
+calmness to say:</p>
+
+<p>"Simmy must have been insane with joy. He has talked of nothing else for
+days."</p>
+
+<p>But he did not know that in her secret heart she was crying out in
+ecstasy: "God, how I love him&mdash;and <i>how he loves me</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"He is a good old scout," said he lamely, hardly conscious of the words.
+Then abruptly: "I can't stay, Anne. I came down to tell you that&mdash;that I
+was a dog to say what I did in my note to you. I knew the construction
+you would put upon the&mdash;well, the injunction. It wasn't fair. I led you
+to believe that if you came down here to live that sometime I would&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Just a moment, Braden," she interrupted, steadily. "You are finding it
+very difficult to say just the right thing to me. Let me help you,
+please. I fear that I have a more ready tongue than you and certainly I
+am less agitated. I confess that your note decided me. I confess that I
+believed my coming here to live would result in&mdash;well, forgiveness is as
+good a word as any at this time. Now you have come to me to say that I
+have nothing to gain by living in this house, that I have nothing to
+gain by living in a place which revolts and terrifies me,&mdash;not always,
+but at times. Well, you may spare yourself the pain of saying all that
+to me. I shall continue to live here, even though nothing comes of it,
+as you say. I shall continue to sit here in this rather enchanting place
+and wait for you to come and share it with me. If you&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Good God! That is just what I am trying to tell you that I cannot&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know, I know," she broke in impatiently. "That is just what you are
+trying to tell me, and this is just what I am trying to tell you. I do
+not say that you will ever come to me here, Braden. I am only saying to
+you that I shall wait for you. If you do not come, that is your affair,
+not mine. I love you. I love you with every bit of selfishness that is
+in my soul, every bit of goodness that is in my heart, and every bit of
+badness that is in my blood. I am proud to tell you that I am selfish in
+this one respect, if no longer in any other. I would give up everything
+else in the world to have you. That is how selfish I am. I want to be
+happy and I selfishly want you to be happy&mdash;for my sake if not for your
+own. Do you suppose that I am glorifying myself by living here? Do you
+suppose that I am justifying myself? If you do, you are very greatly
+mistaken. I am here because you led me to believe that&mdash;that things
+might be altered if I&mdash;" Her lips trembled despite the brave countenance
+she presented to him. In a second she had quelled the threatened
+weakness. "I have made this house a paradise. I have made it a place in
+which you may find happiness if you care to seek for it here. At night I
+shudder and cringe, because I am the coward you would try to reform. I
+hide nothing from myself. I am afraid to be alone in this house. But I
+shall stay&mdash;I shall stay."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think that I could ever find happiness in this house&mdash;now?" he
+demanded hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you expect to find happiness anywhere else, Braden?" she asked, a
+little break in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I shall never find happiness anywhere else,&mdash;real<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span> happiness, I
+mean. I cannot be happy without you, Anne."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I without you," she said simply. "I don't see that it makes very
+much difference <i>where</i> we choose to be unhappy, Braden, so I shall take
+mine here,&mdash;where it is likely to be complete."</p>
+
+<p>"But that is just what I don't want you to do," he cried angrily. "I
+don't want you to stay here. You must leave this place. You have had
+hell enough. I insist that you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No use arguing," she said, shaking her head. "I can love you here as
+well as anywhere else, and that is all I care for,&mdash;just my love for
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"God, what a cruel thing love is, after all. If there was no such thing
+as love, we could&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say that!" she cried out sharply. "Love is everything. It
+conquers everything. It is both good and evil. It makes happiness and it
+makes misery. Braden,&mdash;oh, my dearest!&mdash;see what it has made for us?
+Love! Why, don't you know it is Love that we love? <i>We love Love.</i> I
+would not love you if you were not Love itself. I treated you
+abominably, but you still love me. You performed an act of mercy for the
+man you loved, and he loved you. You cursed me in your heart, and I
+still love you. We cannot escape love, my friend. It rules us,&mdash;it rules
+all of us. The thing that you say stands between us&mdash;that act of mercy,
+dearest,&mdash;what effect has it had upon either of us? I would come to you
+to-morrow, to-day,&mdash;this very hour if you asked me to do so, and not in
+all the years that are left to me would I see the shadow you shrink
+from."</p>
+
+<p>"The shadow extends back a great deal farther, Anne," he said, closing
+his eyes as if in pain. "It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> began long before my grandfather found the
+peace which I have yet to find. It began when you sold yourself to him."</p>
+
+<p>She shrank slightly. "But even that did not kill your love for me," she
+cried out, defensively. "I did not sell my love,&mdash;just my soul, if you
+must have a charge against me. I've got it back, thank God, and it is
+worth a good deal more to me to-day than it was when Mr. Thorpe
+bargained for it. Two million dollars!" She spoke ironically, yet with
+great seriousness. "If he could have bought my love for that amount, his
+bargain would have been a good one. If I were to discover now that you
+do not care for me, Braden, and if I could buy your love, which is the
+most precious thing in the world to me, I would not hesitate a second to
+pay out every dollar I have in&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" he cried eagerly, drawing a step nearer and fixing her with a
+look that puzzled and yet thrilled her. "Would you give up
+everything&mdash;everything, mind you,&mdash;if I were to ask you to do so?"</p>
+
+<p>"You said something like that a few months ago," she said, after a
+moment's hesitation. There was a troubled, hunted look in her eyes, as
+of a creature at bay. "You make it hard for me, Braden. I don't believe
+I could give up everything. I have found that all this money does not
+give me happiness. It does provide me with comfort, with independence,
+with a certain amount of power. It does not bring me the thing I want
+more than anything else in the world, however. Still I cannot say to you
+now that I would willingly give it up, Braden. You would not ask it of
+me, of course. You are too fair and big&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But it is exactly what I would ask of you, Anne," he said earnestly,
+"if it came to an issue. You could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span> not be anything more to me than you
+are now if you retained a dollar of that money."</p>
+
+<p>She drew a long, deep breath. "Would you take me back, Braden,&mdash;would
+you let me be your wife if I&mdash;if I were to give up all that I received
+from Mr. Thorpe?" She was watching his face closely, ready to seize upon
+the slightest expression that might direct her course, now or
+afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I&mdash;Oh, Anne, we must not harass ourselves like this," he groaned.
+"It is all so hopeless, so useless. It never can be, so what is the use
+in talking about it?"</p>
+
+<p>She now appeared to be a little more sure of her ground. There was a
+note of confidence in her voice as she said: "In that event, it can do
+no harm for me to say that I do not believe I could give it up, Braden."</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>wouldn't</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I were to give up all this money, Braden dear, I would prove myself
+to be the most selfish creature in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Selfish? Good Lord! It would be the height of self-denial. It&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"When a woman wants something so much that she will give up everything
+in the world to get it, I claim that she is selfish to the last degree.
+She gratifies self, and there is no other way to look at it. And I will
+admit to you now, Braden, that if there is no other way, I will give up
+all this money. That may represent to you just how much I think of
+<i>self</i>. But," and she smiled confidently, "I don't intend to impoverish
+myself if I can help it, and I don't believe you are selfish enough to
+ask it of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you call Lutie selfish?" he demanded. "She gave up everything for
+George."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Lutie is impulsive. She did it voluntarily. No one demanded it of her.
+She was not obliged to give back a penny, you must remember. My case is
+different. You would demand a sacrifice of me. Lutie did not sell
+herself in the beginning. She sold George. She bought him back. If
+George was worth thirty thousand dollars to her, you are worth two
+millions to me. She gave her <i>all</i>, and that would be my <i>all</i>. She was
+willing to pay. Am I? That is the question."</p>
+
+<p>"You would have to give it up, Anne," said he doggedly.</p>
+
+<p>He saw the colour fade from her cheeks, and the lustre from her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not sure that I could do it, Braden," she said, after a long
+silence. Then, almost fiercely: "Will you tell me how I should go about
+getting rid of all this money,&mdash;sensibly,&mdash;if I were inclined to do so?
+What could I do with it? Throw it away? Destroy it? Burn&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There isn't much use discussing ways and means," he said with finality
+in his manner. "I'm sorry we brought the subject up. I came here with a
+very definite object in view, and we&mdash;well, you see what we have come
+to."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I&mdash;I love you so!" came tremulously from her lips. "I love you so,
+Braden. I&mdash;I don't see how I can go on living without&mdash;" She suppressed
+the wild, passionate words by deliberately clapping her hands, one above
+the other, over her lips. Red surged to her brow and a look of exquisite
+shame and humiliation leaped into her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Anne, Anne&mdash;" he began, but she turned on him furiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you lie to me? Why do you lie to yourself?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span> You came here to-day
+because you were mad with the desire to see me, to be near me, to&mdash;Oh,
+you need not deny it! You have been crying out for me ever since the day
+you last held me in your arms and kissed me,&mdash;ages ago!&mdash;just as I have
+been crying out for you. Don't say that you came here merely to tell me
+that I must not live in this house if it leads me to hope
+for&mdash;recompense. Don't say that, because it is not the real reason, and
+you know it. You would have remained in Europe if you were through with
+me, as you would have yourself believe. But you are not through with me.
+You never will be. If you cannot be fair with yourself, Braden, you
+should at least be fair with me. You should not have come here to-day.
+But you could not help it, you could not resist. It will always be like
+this, and it is not fair, it is not fair. You say we never can be
+married to each other. What is there left for us, I ask of you,&mdash;what
+will all this lead to? We are not saints. We are not made of stone.
+We&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"God in heaven, Anne," he cried, aghast and incredulous. "Do you know
+what you are saying? Do you think I would drag you down, despoil you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you would be honest enough to marry me&mdash;<i>then</i>," she cried out
+bitterly. "Your sense of honour would attend to all that. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" he commanded, standing over her as she shrank back against the
+wall. "Do you think that I love you so little that I could&mdash;Love? Is
+that the kind of love that you have been extolling to the skies?"</p>
+
+<p>She covered her flaming face with her hands. "Forgive me, forgive me!"
+she murmured, brokenly. "I am so ashamed of myself."</p>
+
+<p>He was profoundly moved. A great pity for her swept through him. "I
+shall not come again," he said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span> hoarsely. "I will be fair. You are
+right. You see more clearly than I can see. I must not come to you again
+unless I come to ask you to be my wife. You are right. We would go mad
+with&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to me, Braden," she interrupted in a strangely quiet manner. "I
+shall never ask you to come to me. If you want me you must ask me to
+come to you. I will come. But you are to impose no conditions. You must
+leave me to fight out my own battle. My love is so great, so honest, so
+strong that it will triumph over everything else. Listen! Let me say
+this to you before I send you away from me to-day. Love is relentless.
+It wrecks homes, it sends men to the gallows and women to the madhouse.
+It makes drunkards, suicides and murderers of noble men and women. It
+causes men and women to abandon homes, children, honour&mdash;and all the
+things that should be dear to them. It impoverishes, corrupts
+and&mdash;defiles. It makes cowards of brave men and brave men of cowards.
+The thing we call love has a thousand parts. It has purity, nobility,
+grandeur, greed, envy, lust&mdash;everything. You have heard of good women
+abandoning good husbands for bad lovers. You have heard of good mothers
+giving up the children they worship. You have heard of women and men
+murdering husbands and wives in order to remove obstacles from the path
+of love. One woman whom we both know recently gave up wealth, position,
+honour, children,&mdash;everything,&mdash;to go down into poverty and disgrace
+with the man she loved. You know who I mean. She did it because she
+could not help herself. Opposed to the evil that love can do, there is
+always the beautiful, the sweet, the pure,&mdash;and it is that kind of love
+that rules the world. But the other kind <i>is</i> love, just the same, and
+while it does not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span> govern the world, it is none the less imperial. What
+I want to say to you is this: while love may govern the world, the world
+cannot govern love. You cannot govern this love you have for me,
+although you may control it. Nor can I destroy the love I have for you.
+I may not deserve your love, but I have it and you cannot take it away
+from me. Some other woman may rob me of it, perhaps, but you cannot do
+it, my friend. I will wait for you to come and get me, Braden. Now,
+go,&mdash;please go,&mdash;and do not come here again until&mdash;" she smiled faintly.</p>
+
+<p>He lowered his head. "I will not come again, Anne," he said huskily.</p>
+
+<p>She did not follow him to the door.</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Anne left town about the middle of June and did not return until late in
+September. She surprised every one who knew her by going to Nova Scotia,
+where she took a cottage in one of the quaint old coast towns. Lutie and
+George and the baby spent the month of August with her. Near the close
+of their visit, Anne made an announcement that, for one day at least,
+caused them to doubt, very gravely, whether she was in her right mind.
+George, very much perturbed, went so far as to declare to Lutie in the
+seclusion of their bedroom that night, that Anne was certainly dotty.
+And the queer part of it all was that he couldn't, for the life of him,
+feel sorry about it!</p>
+
+<p>The next morning they watched her closely, at times furtively, and
+waited for her to either renounce the decision of the day before or
+reveal some sign that she had no recollection of having made the
+astounding statement at all,&mdash;in which case they could be certain that
+she had been a bit flighty and would be in a position to act
+accordingly. (Get a specialist after her, or something like that.) But
+Anne very serenely discoursed on the sweetest sleep she had known in
+years, and declared she was ready for <i>anything</i>, even the twelve-mile
+tramp that George had been trying so hard to get her to take with him.
+Her eyes were brighter, her cheeks rosier than they had been for months,
+and, to George's unbounded amazement, she ate a hearty breakfast with
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"I have written to Simmy," said she, "and James<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span> has posted the letter.
+The die is cast. Congratulate me!"</p>
+
+<p>"But, hang it all," cried George desperately, "I still believe you are
+crazy, Anne, so&mdash;how can I congratulate you? My Lord, girl&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped short, for Lutie sprang up from the table and threw her arms
+around Anne. She kissed her rapturously, all the time gurgling something
+into her ear that George could not hear, and perhaps would not have
+understood if he had. Then they both turned toward him, shining-eyed and
+exultant. An instant later he rushed over and enveloped both of them in
+his long, strong arms and shouted out that he was crazy too.</p>
+
+<p>Anne's letter to Simmy was a long one, and she closed it with the
+sentence: "You may expect me not later than the twentieth of September."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Thorpe grew thin and haggard as the summer wore away; his nerves were in
+such a state that he seriously considered giving up his work, for the
+time being, at least. The truth was gradually being forced in upon him
+that his hand was no longer as certain, no longer as steady as it had
+been. Only by exercising the greatest effort of the will was he able to
+perform the delicate work he undertook to do in the hospitals. He was
+gravely alarmed by the ever-growing conviction that he was never sure of
+himself. Not that he had lost confidence in his ability, but he was
+acutely conscious of having lost interest. He was fighting all the time,
+but it was his own fight and not that of others. Day and night he was
+fighting something that would not fight back, and yet was relentless;
+something that was content to sit back in its own power and watch him
+waste his strength and endurance. Each succeeding hour saw him grow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span>
+weaker under the strain. He was fighting the thing that never
+surrenders, never weakens, never dies. He was struggling against a
+mighty, world-old Giant, born the day that God's first man was created,
+and destined to live with all God's men from that time forth: Passion.</p>
+
+<p>Time and again he went far out of his way to pass by the house near
+Washington Square, admittedly surreptitious in his movements. On hot
+nights he rode down Fifth Avenue on the top of the stages, and always
+cast an eye to the right in passing the street in which Anne lived,
+looking in vain for lights in the windows of the closed house. And an
+hundred times a day he thought of the key that no longer kept company
+with others at the end of a chain but lay loose in his trousers' pocket.
+Times there were when an almost irresistible desire came upon him to go
+down there late at night and enter the house, risking discovery by the
+servants who remained in quarters, just for a glimpse of the rooms
+upstairs she had described,&mdash;her own rooms,&mdash;the rooms in which she
+dreamed of him.</p>
+
+<p>He affected the society of George and Lutie, spending a great deal of
+his leisure with them, scorning himself the while for the perfectly
+obvious reason that moved him. Automobile jaunts into the country were
+not infrequent. He took them out to the country inns for dinner, to
+places along the New Jersey and Long Island shores, to the show grounds
+at Coney Island. There were times when he could have cursed himself for
+leading them to believe that he was interested only in their affairs and
+not in this affair of his own; times when he realised to the full that
+he was <i>using</i> them to satisfy a certain craving. They were close to
+Anne in every way; they represented her by proxy; they had letters from
+her written in the far-off town in Canada; she loved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span> them, she
+encouraged them, she envied them. And they talked of her,&mdash;how they
+talked of her!</p>
+
+<p>More than all else, George and Lutie personified Love. They represented
+love triumphant over all. Their constancy had been rewarded, and the
+odds had been great against it. He was contented and happy when near
+them, for they gave out love, they radiated it, they lived deep in the
+heart of it. He craved the company of these serene, unselfish lovers
+because they were brave and strong and inspiring. He fed hungrily on
+their happiness, and he honestly tried to pay them for what they gave to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>He was glad to hear that George was going into a new and responsible
+position in the fall,&mdash;a six thousand dollar a year job in the office of
+a big manufacturing company. He rejoiced not because George was going
+ahead so splendidly but because his advancement was a justification of
+Anne's faith in her seemingly unworthy brother,&mdash;and, moreover, there
+was distinctly something to be said for the influence of love.</p>
+
+<p>When George's family departed for the north, Thorpe was like a lost
+soul. In the first week of their absence, he found himself more than
+once on the point of throwing everything aside and rushing off after
+them. His scruples, his principles, his resolutions were shaken in the
+mighty grasp of despair. There were to be no more letters, and, worse
+than all else, she would not be lonely!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>One day late in August Simmy Dodge burst in upon him. He had motored in
+from Southampton and there was proof that he had not dallied along the
+way. His haste in exploding in Thorpe's presence was evidence of an
+unrestrained eagerness to have it over with.</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" he shouted, tugging at his goggles with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span> nervous hands from
+which he had forgotten to remove his gloves. "You've got to put a stop
+to this sort of thing. It can't go on. She must be crazy,&mdash;stark, raving
+crazy. You must not let her do this&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil are you talking about?" gasped Thorpe, acutely alarmed
+by the little man's actions, to say nothing of his words, which under
+other circumstances might have been at least intelligent.</p>
+
+<p>"Anne! Why, she's&mdash;What do you think she's going to do? Or maybe you
+know already. Maybe you've put her up to this idiotic&mdash;Say, what <i>do</i>
+you know about it?" He was glaring at his friend. The goggles rested on
+the floor in a far corner of the consultation-room.</p>
+
+<p>"In heaven's name, Simmy, cool off! I haven't the remotest idea of what
+you are talking about. What has happened?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing has happened yet. And it mustn't happen at all. You've got to
+stop her. She has threatened to do it before, and now she comes out
+flat-footed and says she's going to do it,&mdash;absolutely, irrevocably,
+positively. Is that plain enough for you? Absolutely, irrev&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Would you mind telling me what she is going to do?"</p>
+
+<p>Simmy sat down rather abruptly and wiped his moist, dust-blackened brow.</p>
+
+<p>"She's going to give away every damned nickel of that money she got from
+old Mr. Thorpe,&mdash;every damned nickel of it, do you hear? My God! She
+<i>is</i> crazy, Brady. We've got to put her in a sanitarium&mdash;or torium&mdash;as
+soon as we can get hold of&mdash;Hi! Look out!"</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe had leaped forward and was shaking him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span> furiously by the
+shoulders. His eyes were wide and gleaming.</p>
+
+<p>"Say that again! Say it again!" he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>"Say it, damn you, Simmy! Can't you see that I want you to say it
+again&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Say&mdash;it&mdash;again," chattered Simmy. "Let go! How the dickens can I say
+anything with you mauling me all over the&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry! I will&mdash;try to be sensible&mdash;and quiet. Now, go on, old
+chap,&mdash;tell me all there is to tell." He sank into a chair and leaned
+forward, watching every expression that crossed his friend's
+face&mdash;watching with an intensity that finally got on Simmy's nerves.</p>
+
+<p>"She wrote me,&mdash;I got the letter yesterday,&mdash;Lordy, what did I do with
+it? Never mind. I'll look for it later on. I can remember nearly every
+word, so it doesn't matter. She says she has made up her mind to give
+all that money to charity. Some darned nonsense about never knowing
+happiness as long as she has the stuff in her possession. Absolute
+idiocy! Wants me to handle the matter for her. Lawyer, and all that sort
+of thing, you see. I know what the game is, and so do you. She'd sooner
+have you than all that money. By Gosh! I&mdash;here's something I never
+thought of before." He paused and wiped his brow, utter bewilderment in
+his eyes. "It has just occurred to me that I'd sooner have Anne than all
+the money I've got. I've said that to myself a thousand times and&mdash;But
+that has nothing to do with the case. Lordy, it gave me a shock for a
+second or two, though. Seems to knock my argument all to smash. Still
+there <i>is</i> a difference. I didn't <i>earn</i> my money. Where was I? Oh,
+yes,&mdash;er&mdash;she's got the idea into her head that she can never be
+anything to you until she gets rid of that money. Relief fund!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span> Red
+Cross! Children's Welfare! Tuberculosis camps! All of 'em! Great snakes!
+Every nickel! Can you beat it? Now, there's just one way to stop this
+confounded nonsense. You can do it, and you've got to come to the mark."</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe was breathing fast, his eyes were glowing. "But suppose that I
+fail to regard it as confounded nonsense. Suppose&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you marry Anne Thorpe if she gives up this money?" demanded Simmy
+sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"That has nothing to do with Anne's motives," said Thorpe grimly. "She
+wants to give it up because it is burning her soul, Simmy."</p>
+
+<p>"Rats! You make me sick, talking like that. She is giving it up for your
+sake and not because her soul is even uncomfortably hot. Now, I want to
+see you two patch things up, cut out the nonsense, and get married,&mdash;but
+I don't intend to see Anne make a fool of herself if I can help it. That
+money is Anne's. The house is hers. The&mdash;By the way, she says she
+intends to <i>keep</i> the house. But how in God's name is she going to
+maintain it if she hasn't a dollar in the world? Think the Red Cross
+will help her when she begins to starve down there&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall do nothing to stop her, Simmy," said Thorpe firmly. "If she has
+made up her mind to give all that money to charity, it is her affair,
+not mine. God knows the Red Cross Society and the Relief Funds need it
+now more than ever before. I'll tell you what I think of Anne Tresslyn's
+sacri&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Anne Thorpe, if you please."</p>
+
+<p>"She <i>hates</i>&mdash;do you hear?&mdash;<i>hates</i> the money that my grandfather gave
+to her. It hurts her in more ways than you can ever suspect. Her honour,
+her pride, her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span> peace of mind&mdash;all of them and more. She sold me out,
+and she hates the price she received. It is something deeper with her
+than mere&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You are wrong," broke in Simmy, suddenly calm. He leaned forward and
+laid his hand on Thorpe's knee. "She wants you more than anything else
+in the world. You are worth more to her than all the money ever coined.
+It is no real sacrifice, the way she feels about it now, but&mdash;listen to
+me! I am not going to stand idly by and see her make herself as poor as
+Job's turkey unless I know&mdash;positively know, do you hear,&mdash;that she is
+not to lose out entirely. You've just got to say one thing or the other,
+Brady, before it's too late. If she does all this for you, what will you
+do for her?"</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe got up from his chair and began pacing the office, his lips
+compressed, his eyes lowered. At last he stopped in front of Simmy.</p>
+
+<p>"If I were you, Simmy, I would tell her at once that&mdash;it will be of no
+avail."</p>
+
+<p>Simmy glowered to the best of his ability. "Have you never asked her to
+make this sacrifice? Have you never given her a ray of hope on which&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes,&mdash;I will be honest with you,&mdash;I asked her if she <i>could</i> give it
+up."</p>
+
+<p>"There you are!" said Simmy triumphantly. "I was pretty sure you had
+said something&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My God, Simmy, I&mdash;I don't know what to do," groaned Thorpe, throwing
+himself into a chair and staring miserably into the eyes of his friend.</p>
+
+<p>"There is just one thing you are not to do," said the other gently. "You
+are not to let her do this thing unless you are prepared to meet her
+half-way. If she does her half, you must do yours. I am looking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span> out for
+her interests now, old chap, and I mean to see that she gets fair play.
+You have no right to let her make this sacrifice unless you are ready to
+do your part."</p>
+
+<p>"Then say to her for me that she must keep the money, every penny of
+it."</p>
+
+<p>Simmy was staggered. "But she&mdash;she doesn't want it," he muttered,
+lamely. His face brightened. "I say, old boy, why let the measly money
+stand in the way? Take her and the money too. Don't be so darned finicky
+about&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, old fellow," protested Thorpe, eyeing him coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Simmy resignedly. "I'll say no more along that line.
+But I'm going to make you give her a square deal. This money is hers.
+She bargained for it, and it belongs to her. She sha'n't throw it away
+if I can help it. I came here to ask you to use your influence, to help
+me and to help her. You say that she is to keep the money. That
+means&mdash;there's no other chance for her?"</p>
+
+<p>"She knows how I feel about it," said Thorpe doggedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell her just what you've said. But suppose that she insists on
+going ahead with this idiotic scheme of hers? Suppose she really hates
+the money and wants to get rid of it, just as she says? Suppose this is
+no part of a plan to reconcile&mdash;Well, you see what I mean. What then?
+What's to become of her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Thorpe dully. "I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"She will be practically penniless, Brady. Her mother will not help her.
+God, how Mrs. Tresslyn will rage when she hears of this! Lordy, Lordy!"</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe leaned back in the chair and covered his eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span> with his hands.
+For a long time he sat thus, scarcely breathing. Simmy watched him in
+perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be awful to see Anne Tresslyn penniless," said the little man
+finally, a queer break in his voice. "She's a fair fighter, my boy. She
+doesn't whimper. She made her mistake and she's willing to pay. One
+couldn't ask more than that of any one. It means a good deal for her to
+chuck all this money. I don't want her to do it. I'm fond of her, Brady.
+I, for one, can't bear the thought of her going about in rummy old
+clothes and&mdash;well, that's just what it will come to&mdash;unless she marries
+some one else."</p>
+
+<p>The hands fell from Thorpe's eyes suddenly. "She will not marry any one
+else," he exclaimed. "What do you mean? What have you heard? Is there&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My Lord, you don't expect the poor girl to remain single all the rest
+of her life just to please you, do you?" roared Simmy, springing to his
+feet. "You must not forget that she is young and very beautiful and
+she'll probably be very poor. And God knows there are plenty of us who
+would like to marry her!" He took a turn or two up and down the room and
+then stopped before Thorpe, in whose eyes there was a new and desperate
+anxiety, born of alarm. "She wants me to arrange matters so that she can
+begin turning over this money soon after she comes down in September.
+She hasn't touched the principal. If she sticks to her intention, I'll
+have to do it. Here is her letter. I'll read it to you. George and Lutie
+know everything, and she is writing to her mother, she says. Not a word
+about you, however. Now, listen to what she says, and&mdash;for God's sake,
+<i>do something</i>!"</p>
+
+<hr class="major" />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'>
+<a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Anne's strictest injunction to Simmy Dodge bore upon the anonymity of
+the contributions to the various specified charities. Huge sums were to
+be delivered at stated intervals, covering a period of six months. At
+the end of that period she would have contributed the whole of her
+fortune to charity and, through its agencies, to humanity. The only
+obligation demanded in return from any of these organisations was a
+pledge of secrecy, and from this pledge there was to be no release until
+such time as the donor herself announced her willingness to make public
+the nature and extent of her benefactions. It was this desire to avoid
+publicity that appealed most strongly to Thorpe. As for poor Simmy,&mdash;he
+could not understand it at all.</p>
+
+<p>Grimly, Anne's lover refused to interfere with her plans. He went about
+his work from that day on, however, with a feverish eagerness and zest,
+and an exaltation that frequently lifted him to a sort of glory that he
+could neither define nor deny. There were moments when he slipped far
+back into the depths, and cursed himself for rejoicing in the sacrifice
+she was apparently so willing to make. And at such times he found that
+he had to resist an impulse that was almost overwhelming in its force:
+the impulse to rush down to her and cry out that the sacrifice was not
+necessary!</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tresslyn came to see him shortly after Anne's return to the city.
+She was humble. When she was announced, he prepared himself for a bitter
+scene. But she was not bitter, she was not furious; on the contrary, she
+was gentler than he had ever known her to be.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"If you do not take her now, Braden," she said in the course of their
+brief interview, "I do not know what will become of her. I blame myself
+for everything, of course. It was I who allowed her to go into that
+unhappy business of getting Mr. Thorpe's money, and I <i>am</i> to blame. I
+should have allowed her to marry you in the beginning. I should not have
+been deceived by the cleverness of your amiable grandfather. But, you
+see I counted on something better than this for her. I thought,&mdash;and she
+thought as well,&mdash;that she could one day have both you and the money. It
+is a pretty hard thing to say, isn't it? I saw her to-day. She is quite
+happy,&mdash;really it seems to me she was radiantly happy this morning.
+Simmy has arranged for the first instalment of five hundred thousand
+dollars to be paid over to-morrow. She herself has selected the
+securities that are to make up this initial payment. They are the best
+of the lot, Simmy tells me. In a few months she will be penniless. I
+don't know what is to become of her, Braden, if you do not take her when
+all this absurd business is over. You love her and she loves you. Both
+of you should hate me, but Anne, for one, does not. She is sorrier for
+me than she is for herself. Of course, you are to understand one thing,
+Braden." She lifted her chin proudly. "She may return to me at any time.
+My home is hers. She shall never want for anything that I am able to
+give her. She is my daughter and&mdash;well, you are to understand that I
+shall stand by her, no matter what she does. I have but one object in
+coming to see you to-day. I need not put it into words."</p>
+
+<p>A few days later Simmy came in, drooping. "Well, the first half-million
+is gone. Next month another five hundred thousand goes. I hope you are
+happy, Brady."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I hope Anne is happy," was all that Thorpe said in response.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>No word came to him from Anne. She was as silent as the sphinx. Not a
+day passed that did not find him running eagerly,&mdash;hopefully,&mdash;through
+his mail, looking for the letter he hoped for and was sure that
+eventually she would write to him. But no letter came. The only news he
+had of her was obtained through Simmy, who kept him acquainted with the
+progress of his client's affairs, forgetting quite simply the admonition
+concerning secrecy.</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe virtually abandoned his visits to the home of the young
+Tresslyns. He had them out to dinner and the theatre occasionally. They
+talked quite freely with him about the all-important topic, and seemed
+not to be unhappy or unduly exercised over the step Anne had taken. In
+fact, George was bursting with pride in his sister. Apparently he had no
+other thought than that everything would turn out right and fair for her
+in the end. But the covert, anxious, analysing look in Lutie's eyes was
+always present and it was disconcerting.</p>
+
+<p>He avoided the little flat in which he had spent so many happy, and in a
+sense profitable hours, and they appreciated his reason for doing so.
+They kept their own counsel. He had no means of knowing that Anne
+Thorpe's visits were but little more frequent than his.</p>
+
+<p>Anne's silence, her persistent aloofness, began to irritate him at last.
+Weeks had passed since her return to the city and she had given no sign.
+He had long since ceased his sly pilgrimages to the neighbourhood of
+Washington Square. Now as the days grew shorter and the nights
+infinitely longer, he was conscious, first, of a distinct feeling of
+resentment toward<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span> her, and later on of an acute sense of uneasiness.
+The long, dreary hours of darkness fed him with reflections that kept
+him awake most of the night, and only his iron will held his hand and
+nerves steady during the days between the black seasons. The theatre
+palled on him, books failed to hold his attention, people annoyed him.
+He could not concentrate his thoughts on study; his mind was forever
+journeying. What was she doing? Every minute of the day he was asking
+that question of himself. It was in the printed pages of the books he
+read; it was on the lips of every lecturer he listened to; it was
+placarded on every inch of scenery in the theatre,&mdash;always: "Where is
+she to-night? What is she doing?"</p>
+
+<p>And then, at last, one cold, rainy night in late November he resumed his
+stealthy journeys to lower Fifth Avenue atop of the stage, protected by
+a thick ulster and hidden as well as he could be in the shelter of a
+rigidly grasped umbrella. Alighting in front of the Brevoort, he slunk
+rather than sauntered up the Avenue until he came to the cross-town
+street in which she lived,&mdash;in which he once had lived. It was a fair
+night for such an adventure as this. There were but few people abroad.
+The rain was falling steadily and there was a gusty wind. He had left
+his club at ten o'clock, and all the way down the Avenue he was alone on
+the upper deck of the stage. Afterwards he chuckled guiltily to himself
+as he recalled the odd stare with which the conductor favoured him when
+he jestingly inquired if there was "any room aloft."</p>
+
+<p>Walking down the street toward Sixth Avenue, he peered out from beneath
+the umbrella as he passed his grandfather's house across the way. There
+were lights downstairs. A solitary taxi-cab stood in front of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span>
+house. He quickened his pace. He did not want to charge himself with
+spying. A feeling of shame and mortification came over him as he hurried
+along; his face burned. He was not acting like a man, but as a
+love-sick, jealous school-boy would have behaved. And yet all the way up
+Sixth Avenue to Fifty-ninth Street,&mdash;he walked the entire distance,&mdash;he
+wondered why he had not waited to see who came forth from Anne's house
+to enter the taxi-cab.</p>
+
+<p>For a week he stubbornly resisted the desire to repeat the trip
+down-town. In the meantime, Simmy had developed into a most
+unsatisfactory informant. He suddenly revealed an astonishing streak of
+uncommunicativeness, totally unnatural in him and tantalising in the
+extreme. He rarely mentioned Anne's name and never discussed her
+movements. Thorpe was obliged to content himself with an occasional word
+from Lutie,&mdash;who was also painfully reticent,&mdash;and now and then a scrap
+of news in the society columns of the newspapers. Once he saw her in the
+theatre. She was with other people, all of whom he knew. One of them was
+Percy Wintermill. He began on that night to hate Wintermill. The scion
+of the Wintermill family sat next to Anne and there was nothing in his
+manner to indicate that he had resigned himself to defeat in the lists.</p>
+
+<p>If Anne saw him she did not betray the fact. He waited outside for a
+fairer glimpse of her as she left the theatre. What he saw at close
+range from his carefully chosen position was not calculated to relieve
+his mind. She appeared to be quite happy. There was nothing in her
+appearance or in her manner to indicate that she suffered,&mdash;and he
+<i>wanted</i> her to suffer as he was suffering. That night he did not close
+his eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He had said to her that he would never marry her even though she gave up
+the money she had received from his grandfather, and she had said&mdash;how
+well he remembered!&mdash;that if George was worth thirty thousand dollars to
+Lutie, which was her <i>all</i>,&mdash;he was worth two millions to her, and her
+<i>all</i>. She was paying for him now, just as Lutie had paid for George,
+only in Lutie's case there was the assurance that the sacrifice would
+bring its own consolation and reward. Anne was going ahead blindly,
+trusting to an uncertainty. She had his word for it that the sacrifice
+would bring no reward through him, and yet she persisted in the vain
+enterprise. She had likened herself, in a sense, to Lutie, and now he
+was beginning to think of himself as he had once thought of George
+Tresslyn!</p>
+
+<p>He recalled his pitying scorn for the big, once useless boy during that
+long period of dog-like watchfulness over the comings and goings of the
+girl he loved. He had felt sorry for him and yet pleased with him. There
+was something admirable in the stubborn, drunken loyalty of George
+Tresslyn,&mdash;a loyalty that never wavered even though there was no such
+thing as hope ahead of him.</p>
+
+<p>As time went on, Thorpe, the sound, sober, indomitable Thorpe,&mdash;began to
+encourage himself with the thought that he too might sink to the
+extremities through which George had passed,&mdash;and be as simple and as
+firm in his weakness as the other had been! He too might stand in dark
+places and watch, he too might slink behind like a thing in the night.
+Only in his case the conditions would be reversed. He would be fighting
+conviction and not hope, for he knew he had but to walk into Anne's
+presence and speak,&mdash;and the suspense would be over. She was waiting for
+him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span> It was he who would have to surrender, not she.</p>
+
+<p>He fought desperately with himself; the longing to see her, to be near
+her, to test his vaunted self-control, never for an instant subsided. He
+fought the harder because he was always asking himself why he fought at
+all. Why should he not take what belonged to him? Why should he deny
+himself happiness when it was so much to be desired and so easy to
+obtain?</p>
+
+<p>But always when he was nearest to the breaking point, and the rush of
+feeling was at flood, there crept up beside him the shadow that
+threatened his very existence and hers. He had taken the life of her
+husband. He had no right to her. Down in his heart he knew that there
+was no moral ground for the position he took and from which he could not
+extricate himself. He had committed no crime. There had been no thought
+of himself in that solemn hour when he delivered his best friend out of
+bondage. Anne had no qualms, and he knew her to be a creature of fine
+feelings. She had always revolted against the unlovely aspects of life,
+and all this despite the claim she made that love would survive the most
+unholy of oppressions. What was it then that <i>he</i> was afraid of? What
+was it that made him hold back while love tugged so violently, so
+persistently at his heart-strings?</p>
+
+<p>At times he had flashes of the thing that created the shadow, and it was
+then that he grasped, in a way, the true cause of his fears. Back of
+everything he realised there was the most uncanny of superstitions. He
+could not throw off the feeling that his grandfather, in his grave,
+still had his hand lifted against his marriage with Anne Tresslyn; that
+the grim, loving old man still regarded himself as a safeguard against
+the connivings of Anne!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>His common sense, of course, resisted this singular notion. He had but
+to recall his grandfather's praise of Anne just before he went to his
+death. Surely that signified an altered opinion of the girl, and no
+doubt there was in his heart during those last days of life, a very
+deep, if puzzled, admiration for her. And yet, despite the conviction
+that his grandfather, had he been pressed for a definite statement would
+have declared himself as being no longer opposed to his marriage with
+Anne, there still remained the fact that he had gone to his grave
+without a word to show that he regarded his experiment as a failure. And
+he had gone to his grave in a manner that left no room for doubt that
+his death was to stand always as an obstacle in the path of the lovers.
+There were times when Braden Thorpe could have cursed his grandfather
+for the cruel cunning to which he had resorted in the end.</p>
+
+<p>He could not free himself of the ridiculous, distorted and oft-recurring
+notion that his grandfather was watching him from beyond the grave, nor
+were all his scientific convictions sufficient to dispel the fear that
+men live after death and govern the destinies of those who remain.</p>
+
+<p>But through all of these vain struggles, his love for Anne grew
+stronger, more overpowering. He was hollow-eyed and gaunt, ravenous with
+the hunger of love. A spectre of his former self, he watched himself
+starve with sustenance at hand. Bountiful love lay within his grasp and
+yet he starved. Full, rich pastures spread out before him wherein he
+could roam to the end of his days, blissfully gorging himself,&mdash;and yet
+he starved. And Anne, who dwelt in those elysian pastures, was starving
+too!</p>
+
+<p>Once more he wavered and again he fell. He found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span> himself at midnight
+standing at the corner above Anne's home, staring at the darkened
+unresponsive windows. Three nights passed before he resumed the hateful
+vigil. This time there were lights. And from that time on, he went
+almost nightly to the neighbourhood of Washington Square, regardless of
+weather or inconvenience. He saw her come and go, night after night, and
+he saw people enter the house to which he held a key,&mdash;always he saw
+from obscure points of vantage and with the stealth and caution of a
+malefactor.</p>
+
+<p>He came to realise in course of time that she was not at peace with
+herself, notwithstanding a certain assumption of spiritedness with which
+she fared into the world with others. At first he was deceived by
+appearances, but later on he knew that she was not the happy, interested
+creature she affected to be when adventuring forth in search of
+pleasure. He observed that she tripped lightly down the steps on leaving
+the house, and that she ascended them slowly, wearily, almost
+reluctantly on her return, far in the night. He invariably waited for
+the lights to appear in the shaded windows of her room upstairs, and
+then he would hurry away as if pursued. Once, after roaming the streets
+for two hours following her return to the house, he wended his way back
+to the spot from which he had last gazed at her windows. To his surprise
+the lights were still burning. After that he never left the
+neighbourhood until he saw that the windows were dark, and more often
+than otherwise the lights did not go out until two or three o'clock in
+the morning. The significance of these nightly indications of
+sleeplessness on her part did not escape him.</p>
+
+<p>Bitterly cold and blustering were some of the nights. He sought warmth
+and shelter from time to time in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span> near-by caf&eacute;s, always returning to
+his post when the call became irresistible. It was his practice to go to
+the cheap and lowly caf&eacute;s, places where he was not likely to be known
+despite his long residence in the community. He did not drink. It had,
+of course, occurred to him that he might find solace in resorting to the
+cup that cheers, but never for an instant was he tempted to do so. He
+was too strong for that!</p>
+
+<p>Curiosity led him one night to the restaurant of Josiah Wade. He did not
+enter, but stood outside peering through the window. It was late at
+night and old Wade was closing the place. A young woman whom Thorpe took
+to be his wife was chatting amiably with a stalwart youth near the cash
+register. He did not fail to observe the furtive, shifty glances that
+Wade shot out from under his bushy eyebrows in the direction of the
+couple.</p>
+
+<p>He knew, through Simmy, that the last of Templeton Thorpe's money would
+soon pass from Anne's hands. A million and a half was gone. The time for
+the last to go was rapidly approaching. She would soon be poorer than
+when she entered upon the infamous enterprise. There would still remain
+to her the house in which she lived. It was not a part of the purchase
+price. It was outside of the bargain she had made, and the right to sell
+it was forbidden her. But possesion of it was a liability rather than an
+asset. He wondered what she would do when it came down to the house in
+which she lived.</p>
+
+<p>Again and again he apostrophized himself as follows: "My God, what am I
+coming to? Is this madness? Am I as George Tresslyn was, am I no nobler
+than he? Or was he noble in spite of himself, and am I noble in the same
+sense? If I am mad with love, if I am weak<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span> and accursed by
+consequences, why should not she be weaker than I? She is a woman. I
+am&mdash;or was&mdash;a man. Why should I sink to such a state as this and she
+remain brave and strong and resolute? She keeps away from me, why should
+I not stay away from her? God knows I have tried to resist this thing
+that she resists, and what have I come to? A street loafer, a spy, a
+sneak, a dog without a master. She is doing a big thing, and I am doing
+the smallest thing that man can do. She loves me and longs for me
+and&mdash;Oh, what damned madness is it that brings me to loving her and
+longing for her and yet makes of me a thing so much less worthy than
+she?" And so on by the hour, day and night, he cursed himself with
+questions.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The end came swiftly, resistlessly. She paused at the bottom of the
+steps as the automobile slid off into the chill, windy night. For the
+first time in all his vigil, he noted the absence of the footman who
+always ran up the steps ahead of her to open the door. She was alone
+to-night. This had never happened before. Mystified, he saw her slowly
+ascend the steps and pause before the door. Her body drooped wearily. He
+waited long for her to press the electric button which had taken the
+place of the ancient knob that jangled the bell at the far end of the
+hall. But she remained motionless for what seemed to him an interminable
+time, and then, to his consternation, she leaned against the door and
+covered her face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>A great weight suddenly was lifted from his soul; a vast exaltation
+drove out everything that had been oppressing him for so long. He was
+free! He was free of the thing that had been driving him to death. Joy,
+so overwhelming in its rush that he almost collapsed as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span> it assailed
+him, swept aside every vestige of resistance,&mdash;and, paradox of
+paradoxes,&mdash;made a man of him! He was a man and he would&mdash;But even as
+his jaw set and his body straightened in its old, dominant strength, she
+opened the door and passed into the dim hall beyond.</p>
+
+<p>He was half across the street when the door closed behind her, but he
+did not pause. His hand came from his pocket and in his rigid fingers he
+held the key to his home&mdash;and hers.</p>
+
+<p>At the bottom of the steps he halted. The lights in the drawing-room had
+been switched on. The purpose that filled him now was so great that he
+waited long there, grasping the hand rail, striving to temper his
+new-found strength to the gentleness that was in his heart. The fight
+was over, and he had won&mdash;the man of him had won. She was in that room
+where the lights were,&mdash;waiting for him. The moment was not far off when
+she would be in his arms. He was suffocating with the thought of the
+nearness of it all!</p>
+
+<p>He mounted the steps. As he came to the top, the door was opened and
+Anne stood there in the warm light of the hall,&mdash;a slender, swaying
+figure in something rose-coloured and&mdash;and her lips were parted in a
+wondering, enchanted smile. She held out her arms to him.</p>
+
+<p style='text-align:center'><br/>THE END<br/><br/></p>
+
+<hr class='full' />
+
+<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3>
+<p>1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards.</p>
+<p>2. Frontispiece relocated after copyright page.</p>
+<p>3. Table of Contents added.</p>
+<p>4. Typographic errors corrected in original:<br/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;p. 102 heared to hearted ("loyal, warm-hearted, enduring creature")<br/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;p. 193 snovel to snivel ("choke and snivel softly")<br/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;p. 215 unforgetable to unforgettable ("that unforgettable day")<br/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;p. 439 "Her saw her" to "He saw her" ("He saw her come and go")<br/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;p. 440 possesion to possession ("possession of it was a liability")<br/>
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's From the Housetops, by George Barr McCutcheon
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+</body>
+</html>
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of From the Housetops, by George Barr McCutcheon
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+Title: From the Housetops
+
+Author: George Barr McCutcheon
+
+Illustrator: F. Graham Cootes
+
+Release Date: June 17, 2006 [EBook #18612]
+Last updated: March 3, 2009
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FROM THE HOUSETOPS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE HOUSETOPS
+
+BY
+GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON
+
+Author of "Ghaustark," "The Hollow of Her Hand,"
+"The Prince of Graustark," etc.
+
+With Illustrations by
+F. GRAHAM COOTES
+
+
+
+
+Copyright, 1916
+By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC.
+_All rights reserved_
+Made in U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "Stop!" he cried eagerly. "Would you give up
+everything--everything, mind you,--if I were to ask you to do so?"]
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+========
+
+CHAPTER I                                       1
+CHAPTER II                                      9
+CHAPTER III                                    16
+CHAPTER IV                                     27
+CHAPTER V                                      39
+CHAPTER VI                                     57
+CHAPTER VII                                    76
+CHAPTER VIII                                   90
+CHAPTER IX                                    101
+CHAPTER X                                     120
+CHAPTER XI                                    137
+CHAPTER XII                                   155
+CHAPTER XIII                                  169
+CHAPTER XIV                                   185
+CHAPTER XV                                    197
+CHAPTER XVI                                   213
+CHAPTER XVII                                  230
+CHAPTER XVIII                                 247
+CHAPTER XIX                                   260
+CHAPTER XX                                    273
+CHAPTER XXI                                   292
+CHAPTER XXII                                  310
+CHAPTER XXIII                                 329
+CHAPTER XXIV                                  345
+CHAPTER XXV                                   359
+CHAPTER XXVI                                  376
+CHAPTER XXVII                                 391
+CHAPTER XXVIII                                405
+CHAPTER XXIX                                  421
+CHAPTER XXX                                   431
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE HOUSETOPS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Mr. Templeton Thorpe was soon to be married for the second time. Back in
+1860 he married a girl of twenty-two, and now in the year 1912 he was
+taking unto himself another girl of twenty-two. In the interim he had
+achieved a grandson whose years were twenty-nine. In his seventy-seventh
+year he was worth a great many millions of dollars, and for that and no
+other reason perhaps, one of the newspapers, in commenting on the
+approaching nuptials, declared that nobody could now deny that he was a
+philanthropist.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I daresay you are right, Mrs. Tresslyn," said old Templeton Thorpe's
+grandson, bitterly. "He hasn't many more years to live."
+
+The woman in the chair started, her eyes narrowing. The flush deepened in
+her cheeks. It had been faint before and steady, but now it was ominous.
+
+"I fear you are again putting words into my mouth," she said coldly. "Have
+I made any such statement?"
+
+"I did not say that you had, Mrs. Tresslyn," said the young man. "I merely
+observed that you were right. It isn't necessary to put the perfectly
+obvious into words. He is a very old man, so you are right in believing
+that he hasn't many years left to live. Nearly four times the age of
+Anne,--that's how old he is,--and time flies very swiftly for him."
+
+"I must again remind you that you are in danger of becoming offensive,
+Braden. Be good enough to remember that this interview is not of my
+choosing. I consented to receive you in--"
+
+"You knew it was inevitable--this interview, as you call it. You knew I
+would come here to denounce this damnable transaction. I have nothing to
+apologise for, Mrs. Tresslyn. This is not the time for apologies. You may
+order me to leave your house, but I don't believe you will find any
+satisfaction in doing so. You would still know that I have a right to
+protest against this unspeakable marriage, even though it should mean
+nothing more to me than the desire to protect a senile old man against
+the--"
+
+"Your grandfather is the last man in the world to be described as senile,"
+she broke in, with a thin smile.
+
+"I could have agreed with you a month ago, but not now," said he savagely.
+
+"Perhaps you would better go now, Braden," said she, arising. She was a
+tall, handsome woman, well under fifty. As she faced her visitor, her
+cold, unfriendly eyes were almost on a level with his own. The look she
+gave him would have caused a less determined man to quail. It was her way
+of closing an argument, no matter whether it was with her butcher, her
+grocer, of the bishop himself. Such a look is best described as imperious,
+although one less reserved than I but perhaps more potently metaphorical
+would say that she simply looked a hole through you, seeing beyond you as
+if you were not there at all. She had found it especially efficacious in
+dealing with the butcher and even the bishop, to say nothing of the effect
+it always had upon the commonplace nobodies who go to the butcher and the
+bishop for the luxuries of both the present and the future life, and it
+had seldom failed to wither and blight the most hardy of masculine
+opponents. It was not always so effective in crushing the members of her
+own sex, for there were women in New York society who could look straight
+through Mrs. Tresslyn without even appearing to suspect that she was in
+the range of vision. She had been known, however, to stare an English duke
+out of countenance, and it was a long time before she forgave herself for
+doing so. It would appear that it is not the proper thing to do. Crushing
+the possessor of a title is permissible only among taxi-drivers and
+gentlemen whose daughters are already married.
+
+Her stony look did not go far toward intimidating young Mr. Thorpe. He was
+a rather sturdy, athletic looking fellow with a firm chin and a well-set
+jaw, and a pair of grey eyes that were not in the habit of wavering.
+
+"I came here to see Anne," he said, a stubborn expression settling in his
+face. "Is she afraid to see me, or is she obeying orders from you, Mrs.
+Tresslyn?"
+
+"She doesn't care to see you," said Mrs. Tresslyn. "That's all there is to
+be said about it, Braden."
+
+"So far as I am concerned, she is still engaged to me. She hasn't broken
+it off by word or letter. If you don't mind, I'd like to have it broken
+off in the regular way. It doesn't seem quite proper for her to remain
+engaged to me right up to the instant she marries my grandfather. Or is it
+possible that she intends to remain bound to me during the lifetime of my
+grandparent, with the idea of holding me to my bargain when he is gone?"
+
+"Don't be ridiculous," was all that Mrs. Tresslyn said in response to this
+sarcasm, but she said it scathingly.
+
+For a full minute they stood looking into each other's eyes, each
+appraising the other, one offensively, the other defensively. She had the
+advantage of him, for she was prepared to defend herself while he was in
+the position of one who attacks without strategy and leaps from one
+exposed spot to another. It was to her advantage that she knew that he
+despised her; it was to his disadvantage that he knew she had always liked
+him after a manner of her own, and doubtless liked him now despite the
+things he had said to her. She had liked him from his boyhood days when
+report had it that he was to be the sole heir to his grandfather's
+millions, and she had liked him, no doubt, quite as sincerely, after the
+old man had declared that he did not intend to ruin a brilliant career by
+leaving a lot of uninspiring money to his ambitious grandson.
+
+In so many words, old Templeton Thorpe had said, not two months before,
+that he intended to leave practically all of his money to charity! All
+except the two millions he stood ready to settle upon his bride the day
+she married him! Possibly Mrs. Tresslyn liked the grandson all the more
+for the treasures that he had lost, or was about to lose. It is easy to
+like a man who will not be pitied. At any rate, she did not consider it
+worth while to despise him, now that he had only a profession to offer in
+exchange for her daughter's hand.
+
+"Of course, Mrs. Tresslyn, I know that Anne loves me," he said, with
+forced calmness. "She doesn't love my grandfather. That isn't even
+debatable. I fear that I am the only person in the world who does love
+him. I suspect, too, that if he loves any one, I am that one. If you think
+that he is fool enough to believe that Anne loves him, you are vastly
+mistaken. He knows perfectly well that she doesn't, and, by gad, he
+doesn't blame her. He understands. That's why he sits there at home and
+chuckles. I hope you will not mind my saying to you that he considers me a
+very lucky person."
+
+"Lucky?" said she, momentarily off her guard.
+
+"If you care to hear exactly how he puts it, he says I'm _damned_ lucky,
+Mrs. Tresslyn. Of course, you are not to assume that I agree with him. If
+I thought all this was Anne's doing and not yours, I should say that I am
+lucky, but I can't believe--good heavens, I will not believe that she could
+do such a thing! A young, beautiful, happy girl voluntarily--oh, it is
+unspeakable! She is being driven into it, she is being sacrificed to--"
+
+"Just one moment, Braden," interrupted Mrs. Tresslyn, curtly. "I may as
+well set you quite straight in the matter. It will save time and put an
+end to recriminations. My daughter does not care the snap of her fingers
+for Mr. Thorpe. I think she loves you quite as dearly now as she ever did.
+At any rate, she says she does. But that is neither here nor there. She is
+going to marry Mr. Thorpe, and of her own volition. I have advised her to
+do so, I will admit, but I have not driven her to it, as you say. No one
+but a fool would expect her to love that old man. He doesn't ask it of
+her. He simply asks her to marry him. Nowadays people do not always marry
+for love. In fact, they frequently marry to avoid it--at least for the time
+being. Your grandfather has told you of the marriage settlement. It is to
+be two million dollars, set apart for her, to be hers in full right on the
+day that he dies. We are far from rich, Anne and I. My husband was a
+failure--but you know our circumstances quite well enough without my going
+into them. My daughter is her own mistress. She is twenty-three. She is
+able to choose for herself. It pleases her to choose the grandfather
+instead of the grandson. Is that perfectly plain to you? If it is, my boy,
+then I submit that there is nothing further to be said. The situation is
+surely clear enough for even you to see. We do not pretend to be doing
+anything noble. Mr. Thorpe is seventy-seven. That is the long and short of
+it."
+
+"In plain English, it's the money you are after," said he, with a sneer.
+
+"Obviously," said she, with the utmost candour. "Young women of twenty-
+three do not marry old men of seventy-seven for love. You may imagine a
+young girl marrying a penniless youth for love, but can you picture her
+marrying a penniless octogenarian for the same reason? I fancy not. I
+speak quite frankly to you, Braden, and without reserve. We have always
+been friends. It would be folly to attempt to delude you into believing
+that a sentimental motive is back of our--shall we say enterprise?"
+
+"Yes, that is what I would call it," said he levelly. "It is a more
+refined word than scheme."
+
+"The world will be grateful for the opportunity to bear me out in all that
+I have said to you," she went on. "It will cheerfully, even gleefully
+supply any of the little details I may have considered unnecessary or
+superfluous in describing the situation. You are at liberty, then, to go
+forth and assist in the castigation. You have my permission,--and Anne's, I
+may add,--to say to the world that I have told you plainly why this
+marriage is to take place. It is no secret. It isn't improbable that your
+grandfather will consent to back you up in your denunciation. He is that
+kind of a man. He has no illusions. Permit me to remind you, therefore,
+that neither you nor the world is to take it for granted that we are
+hoodwinking Mr. Thorpe. Have I made myself quite clear to you, Braden?"
+
+The young man drew a deep breath. His tense figure relaxed. "I did not
+know there were such women in the world as you, Mrs. Tresslyn. There were
+heartless, soulless women among the Borgias and the Medicis, but they
+lived in an age of intrigue. Their acts were mildly innocuous when
+compared with--"
+
+"I must ask you to remember that you are in my home, Braden," she
+interrupted, her eyes ablaze.
+
+"Oh, I remember where I am, perfectly," he cried. "It was in this very
+room that Anne promised to become my wife. It was here that you gave your
+consent, less than a year ago."
+
+He had been pacing the floor, back and forth across the space in front of
+the fireplace, in which logs were blazing on this raw February afternoon.
+Now he stopped once more to face her resolutely.
+
+"I insist that it is my right to see Anne," he said. His eyes were
+bloodshot, his cheek pallid. "I must hear from her own lips that she no
+longer considers herself bound to me by the promise made a year ago. I
+demand that much of her. She owes it to me, if not to herself, to put an
+end to the farce before she turns to tragedy. I don't believe she
+appreciates the wickedness of the thing she is about to do. I insist that
+it is my right to speak with her, to urge her to reconsider, to point out
+to her the horrors of--"
+
+"She will not see you, Braden," broke in the mother, finality in her
+voice.
+
+"She _must_ see me," he shouted. "If not to-day, to-morrow; if not then,
+some other day, for, by the Eternal, Mrs. Tresslyn, I intend to speak with
+her if I have to wait until the accursed day you have selected,--at the
+very altar, if necessary. She shall not go into this thing until she has
+had the final word with me, and I with her. She does not know what she is
+doing. She is carried away by the thought of all that money--Money! Good
+God, Mrs. Tresslyn, she has told me a hundred times that she would marry
+me if I were as poor as the raggedest beggar in the streets. She loves me,
+she cannot play this vile trick on me. Her heart is pure. You cannot make
+me believe that she isn't honest and fair and loyal. I tell you now, once
+and for all, that I will not stand idly by and see this vile sacrifice
+made in order to--"
+
+"Rawson," interrupted Mrs. Tresslyn, looking beyond him in the direction
+of the door, "Doctor Thorpe is going. Will you give him his hat and coat?"
+She had pressed a button beside the mantelpiece, and in response to the
+call, the butler stood in the doorway. "Good day, Braden. I am sorry that
+Anne is unable to see you to-day. She--"
+
+"Good day, Mrs. Tresslyn," he choked out, controlling himself with an
+effort. "Will you tell her that I shall call to-morrow?"
+
+She smiled. "When do you expect to return to London? I had hoped to have
+you stay until after the wedding."
+
+His smile was more of an effort than hers. "Thanks. My grandfather has
+expressed the same hope. He says the affair will not be complete without
+my presence at the feast. To-morrow, at this hour, I shall come to see
+Anne. Thank you, Rawson."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+His gaze swept the long, luxurious drawing-room, now filled with the
+shadows of late afternoon. A sigh that ended in an unvoiced imprecation
+escaped him. There was not an object in the room that did not possess for
+him a peculiar claim of intimacy. Here he had dreamed of paradise with
+Anne, and here he had built upon his hopes,--a staunch future that demanded
+little of the imagination. He could never forget this room and all that it
+had held for him.
+
+But now, in that brief, swift glance, he found himself estimating the cost
+of all the treasures that it contained, and the price that was to be paid
+in order that they might not be threatened. These things represented
+greed. They had always represented greed. They had been saved out of the
+wreck that befell the Tresslyn fortunes when Anne was a young girl
+entering her teens, the wreck that destroyed Arthur Tresslyn and left his
+widow with barely enough to sustain herself and children through the years
+that intervened between the then and the now.
+
+He recalled that after the wreck had been cleared up, Mrs. Tresslyn had a
+paltry twenty-five thousand a year on which to maintain the house that,
+fortuitously, had been in her name at the time of the smash. A paltry sum
+indeed! Barely enough to feed and clothe one hundred less exacting
+families for a year; families, however, with wheelbarrows instead of
+automobiles, and with children instead of servants.
+
+Ten years had elapsed since the death of Arthur Tresslyn, and still the
+house in the east Seventies held itself above water by means of that
+meagre two thousand a month! These rare, almost priceless objects upon
+which he now gazed had weathered the storm, proof against the temptations
+that beset an owner embarrassed by their richness; they had maintained a
+smug relationship to harmony in spite of the jangling of discordant
+instruments, such as writs and attachments and the wails of insufferable
+creditors who made the usual mistake of thinking that a man's home is his
+castle and therefore an object of reprisal. The splendid porcelains, the
+incomparable tapestries and the small but exquisite paintings remained
+where they had been placed by the amiable but futile Arthur, and all the
+king's men and all the king's horses could not have removed them without
+Mrs. Tresslyn's sanction. The mistress of the house subsisted as best she
+could on the pitiful income from a sequestered half-million, and lived in
+splendour among objects that deluded even the richest and most arrogant of
+her friends into believing that nothing was more remote from her
+understanding than the word poverty, or the equally disgusting word
+thrift.
+
+Here he had come to children's parties in days when he was a lad and Anne
+a child of twelve, and here he had always been a welcome visitor and
+playmate, even to the end of his college years. The motherless, fatherless
+grandson of old Templeton Thorpe was cherished among heirlooms that never
+had had a price put upon them. Of all the boys who came to the Tresslyn
+house, young Braden Thorpe was the heir with the most potent possibility.
+He did not know it then, but now he knew that on the occasion of his
+smashing a magnificent porcelain vase the forgiving kiss that Mrs.
+Tresslyn bestowed upon his flaming cheek was not due to pity but to
+farsightedness. Somehow he now felt that he could smash every fragile and
+inanimate thing in sight, and still escape the kiss.
+
+Not the least regal and imposing object in the room was the woman who
+stood beside the fireplace, smiling as she always smiled when a situation
+was at its worst and she at her best. Her high-bred, aristocratic face was
+as insensitive to an inward softness as a chiseled block of marble is to
+the eye that gazes upon it in rapt admiration. She had trained herself to
+smile in the face of the disagreeable; she had acquired the _art_ of
+tranquillity. This long anticipated interview with her daughter's cast-
+off, bewildered lover was inevitable. They had known that he would come,
+insistent. She had not kept him waiting. When he came to the house the day
+after his arrival from England, following close upon a cablegram sent the
+day after the news of Anne's defection had struck him like a thunderbolt,
+she was ready to receive him.
+
+And now, quite as calmly and indifferently, she was ready to say good-bye
+to him forever,--to this man who until a fortnight before had considered
+himself, and rightly too, to be the affianced husband of her daughter. He
+meant nothing to her. Her world was complete without him. He possessed her
+daughter's love,--and all the love she would ever know perhaps,--but even
+that did not produce within her the slightest qualm. Doubtless Anne would
+go on loving him to the end of her days. It is the prerogative of women
+who do not marry for love; it is their right to love the men they do not
+marry provided they honour the men they do, and keep their skirts clear
+besides.
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn felt, and honestly too, that her own assurances that Anne
+loved him would be quite as satisfactory as if Anne were to utter them
+herself. It all came to the same thing, and she had an idea that she could
+manage the situation more ably than her daughter.
+
+And Mrs. Tresslyn was quite sure that it would come out all right in the
+end. She hadn't the remotest doubt that Anne could marry Braden later on,
+if she cared to do so, and if nothing better offered; so what was there to
+worry about? Things always shape themselves after the easiest possible
+fashion. It wasn't as if she was marrying a young man with money. Mrs.
+Tresslyn had seen things shape themselves before. Moreover, she rather
+hated the thought of being a grandmother before she was fifty. And so it
+was really a pleasure to turn this possible son-in-law out of her house
+just at this time. It would be a very simple matter to open the door to
+him later on and invite him in.
+
+She stood beside her hearth and watched him go with a calm and far from
+uneasy eye. He would come again to-morrow, perhaps,--but even at his worst
+he could not be a dangerous visitor. He was a gentleman. He was a bit
+distressed. Gentlemen are often put to the test, and they invariably
+remain gentlemen.
+
+He stopped at the door. "Will you tell Anne that I'll be here to-morrow,
+Mrs. Tresslyn?"
+
+"I shall tell her, of course," said Mrs. Tresslyn, and lifted her lorgnon.
+
+He went out, filled to the throat with rage and resentment. His strong
+body was bent as if against a gale, and his hands were tightly clenched in
+his overcoat pockets. In his haste to get away from the house, he had
+fairly flung himself into the ulster that Rawson held for him, and the
+collar of his coat showed high above the collar of the greatcoat,--a most
+unusual lapse from orderliness on the part of this always careful dresser.
+
+He was returning to his grandfather's house. Old Templeton Thorpe would be
+waiting there for him, and Mr. Thorpe's man would be standing outside the
+library door as was his practice when his master was within, and there
+would be a sly, patient smile on the servant's lips but not in his sombre
+eyes. He was returning to his grandfather's house because he had promised
+to come back and tell the old man how he had fared at the home of his
+betrothed. The old man had said to him earlier in the afternoon that he
+would know more about women than he'd ever known before by the time his
+interview was over, and had drily added that the world was full to
+overflowing of good women who had not married the men they
+loved,--principally, he was just enough to explain, because the men they
+loved preferred to marry other women.
+
+Braden had left him seated in the library after a stormy half-hour; and as
+he rushed from the room, he found Mr. Thorpe's man standing in the hall
+outside the door, just as he always stood, waiting for orders with the
+sly, patient smile on his lips.
+
+For sixty years Templeton Thorpe had lived in the house near Washington
+Square, and for thirty-two of them Wade had been within sound of his
+voice, no matter how softly he called. The master never rang a bell, night
+or day. He did not employ Wade to answer bells. The butler could do that,
+or the parlour-maid, if the former happened to be tipsier than usual. Wade
+always kept his head cocked a little to one side, in the attitude of one
+listening, and so long had he been at it that it is doubtful if he could
+have cocked it the other way without snapping something in his neck. That
+right ear of his was open for business twenty-four hours out of the day.
+The rest of his body may have slept as soundly as any man's, but his ear
+was always awake, on land or sea. It was his boast that he had never had a
+vacation.
+
+Braden, after his long ride down Fifth Avenue on the stage, found Wade in
+the hall.
+
+"Is my grandfather in the library, Wade?" he asked, surprised to find the
+man at the foot of the stairs, quite a distance from his accustomed post.
+
+"He is, sir," said Wade. "He asked me to wait here until you arrived and
+then to go upstairs for a little while, sir. I fancy he has something to
+say to you in private." Which was a naive way of explaining that Mr.
+Thorpe did not want him to have his ear cocked in the hall during the
+conversation that was to be resumed after an advisable interval. Observing
+the strange pallor in the young man's usually ruddy face, he solicitously
+added: "Shall I get you a glass of--ahem!--spirits, sir? A snack of brandy
+is a handy thing to--"
+
+"No, thank you, Wade. You forget that I am a doctor. I never take
+medicine," said Braden, forcing a smile.
+
+"A very good idea, sir," said Wade.
+
+Meanwhile, Mrs. Tresslyn had reported to Anne, in the cosy little boudoir
+at the top of the house in the Seventies.
+
+"It is just as well that you insisted on me seeing him, dear," she said on
+entering the room. "He would have said things to you that you could not
+have forgiven. As it is, you have nothing to forgive, and you have saved
+yourself a good many tears. He--but, my dear, what's this? Have you been
+crying?"
+
+Anne, tall and slender, stood with her back to the window, her exquisite
+face in the shadows. Even in the dim, colourless light of the waning day,
+she was lovely--lovely even with the wet cheeks and the drooped, whimpering
+lips.
+
+"What did he say, mother?" she asked, her voice hushed and broken. "How
+did he look?" Her head was bent and she looked at her mother from beneath
+pain-contracted brows. "Was he angry? Was he desperate? Did--did he say
+that he--that he loved me?"
+
+"He looked very well, he was angry, he was desperate and he said that he
+loved you," replied Mrs. Tresslyn, with the utmost composure. "So dry your
+eyes. He did just what was to have been expected of him, and just what you
+counted upon. He--"
+
+"He honestly, truly said that he loved me?" cried the girl, lifting her
+head and drawing a deep breath.
+
+"Yes,--truly."
+
+Anne dried her eyes with a fresh bit of lace.
+
+"Sit down, mother, and tell me all about it," she said, jerking a small
+chair around so that it faced the couch. Then she threw herself upon the
+latter and, reaching out with a slender foot, drew the chair closer. "Sit
+up close, and let's hear what my future grandson had to say."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Braden Thorpe had spent two years in the New York hospitals, after
+graduation from Johns Hopkins, and had been sent to Germany and Austria by
+his grandfather when he was twenty-seven, to work under the advanced
+scientists of Vienna and Berlin. At twenty-nine he came back to New York,
+a serious-minded, purposeful man, wrapped up in his profession and
+heterodoxically humane, to use the words of his grandfather. The first day
+after his return he confided to his grim old relative the somewhat
+unprofessional opinion that hopelessly afflicted members of the human race
+should be put out of their misery by attending physicians, operating under
+the direction of a commission appointed to consider such cases, and that
+the act should be authorised by law!
+
+His grandfather, being seventy-six and apparently as healthy as any one
+could hope to be at that age, said that he thought it would be just as
+well to kill 'em legally as any other way, having no good opinion of
+doctors, and admitted that his grandson had an exceptionally soft heart in
+him even though his head was a trifle harder and thicker than was
+necessary in one so young.
+
+"It's worth thinking about, anyhow, isn't it, granddaddy?" Braden had
+said, with great earnestness.
+
+"It is, my boy," said Templeton Thorpe; "especially when you haven't got
+anything serious the matter with you."
+
+"But if you were hopelessly ill and suffering beyond all endurance you'd
+welcome death, wouldn't you?"
+
+"No, I wouldn't," said Mr. Thorpe promptly. "The only time I ever wanted
+to shuffle off was when your grandmother first refused to marry me. The
+second time she refused me I decided to do something almost but not quite
+so terrible, so I went West. The third time I proposed, she accepted me,
+and out of sheer joy I very stupidly got drunk. So, you see, there is
+always something to live for," he concluded, with his driest smile.
+
+"I am quite serious about it, grandfather," said Braden stiffly.
+
+"So I perceive. Well, you are planning to hang out your sign here in New
+York pretty soon, and you are going to become a licensed physician, the
+confrere and companion of a lot of distinguished gentlemen who believe
+just as you do about putting sufferers out of their misery but who
+wouldn't think of doing it, so I'd advise you to keep your opinions to
+yourself. What do you suppose I sent you abroad for, and gave you an
+education that few young men have received? Just to see you kicked out of
+your profession before you've fairly well put a foot into it, or a knife
+into a plutocrat, or a pill into a pauper? No, sirree, my boy. You sit
+tight and let the hangman do all the legal killing that has to be done."
+
+"Oh, I know perfectly well that if I advanced this theory,--or scheme,--at
+present, I'd be kicked out of the profession, notwithstanding the fact
+that it has all been discussed a million times by doctors in every part of
+the world. I can't help having the feeling that it would be a great and
+humane thing--"
+
+"Quite so," broke in the old man, "but let us talk of something else."
+
+A month later Braden came to him and announced that he and Anne Tresslyn
+were betrothed. They had known each other for years, and from the time
+that Anne was seventeen Braden had loved her. He had been a quiet, rather
+shy boy, and she a gay, self-possessed creature whose outlook upon life
+was so far advanced beyond his, even in those days of adolescence, that he
+looked upon her as the eighth wonder of the world. She had poise, manner,
+worldly wisdom of a pleasantly superficial character that stood for
+sophistication in his blissful estimate of her advantages over him, and
+she was so adroit in the art of putting her finger upon the right spot at
+precisely the right moment that he found himself wondering if he could
+ever bring himself up to her insuperable level.
+
+And when he came home after the two years in Europe, filled with great
+thoughts and vast pretentions of a singularly unromantic nature, he found
+her so much lovelier than before that where once he had shyly coveted he
+now desired with a fervour that swept him headlong into a panic of dread
+lest he had waited too long and that he had irretrievably lost her while
+engaged in the wretchedly mundane and commonplace pursuit of trifles. He
+was intensely amazed, therefore, to discover that she had loved him ever
+since she was a child in short frocks. He expected her to believe him when
+he said to her that she was the loveliest of all God's creatures, but it
+was more than he could believe when she declared that he was as handsome
+as a Greek god. That, of course, to him was a ludicrous thing to say, a
+delusion, a fancy that could not be explained, and yet he had seen himself
+in a mirror a dozen times a day, perhaps, without even suspecting, in his
+simplicity, that he was an extremely good-looking chap and well worth a
+second glance from any one except himself.
+
+The announcement did not come as a surprise to old Mr. Thorpe. He had been
+expecting it. He realised that Braden's dilatory tactics alone were
+accountable for the delay in bringing the issue to a head.
+
+"And when do you expect to be married?" he had inquired, squinting at his
+grandson in a somewhat dubious manner.
+
+"Within the year, I hope," said Braden. "Of course, I shall have to get a
+bit of a start before we can think of getting married."
+
+"A bit of a start, eh? Expect to get enough of a practice in a year to
+keep Anne going, do you?"
+
+"We shall live very economically."
+
+"Is that your idea or hers?"
+
+"She knows that I have but little more than two thousand a year, but, of
+course, it won't take much of a practice to add something to that, you
+know."
+
+"Besides, you can always depend upon me to help you out, Braden,--that is,
+within reason," said the other, watching him narrowly out of his shrewd
+old eyes.
+
+Braden flushed. "You have done more than enough for me already,
+grandfather. I can't take anything more, you see. I'm going to fight my
+own way now, sir."
+
+"I see," said Mr. Thorpe. "That's the way to talk, my boy. And what does
+Anne say to that?"
+
+"She thinks just as I do about it. Oh, she's the right sort, granddaddy,
+so you needn't worry about us, once we are married."
+
+"Perhaps I should have asked what her mother has to say about it."
+
+"Well, she gave us her blessing," said his grandson, with a happy grin.
+
+"After she had heard about your plan to live on the results of your
+practice?"
+
+"She said she wasn't going to worry about that, sir. If Anne was willing
+to wait, so was she."
+
+"Wait for what?"
+
+"My practice to pick up, of course. What do you mean?"
+
+"Just that, of course," said the old man quickly. "Well, my boy, while I
+daresay it isn't really necessary, I give my consent. I am sure you and
+Anne will be very happy in your cosy little five-room flat, and that she
+will be a great help to you. You may even attain to quite a fashionable
+practice,--or clientele, which is it?--through the Tresslyn position in the
+city. Thousand dollar appendicitis operations ought to be quite common
+with you from the outset, with Anne to talk you up a bit among the people
+who belong to her set and who are always looking for something to keep
+them from being bored to death. I understand that anybody who has an
+appendix nowadays is looked upon as exceedingly vulgar and is not even
+tolerated in good society. As for a man having a sound liver,--well, that
+kind of a liver is absolutely inexcusable. Nobody has one to-day if he can
+afford to have the other kind. Good livers always have livers,--and so do
+bad livers, for that matter. But, now, let us return to the heart. You are
+quite sure that Anne loves you better than she loves herself? That's quite
+important, you know. I have found that people who say that they love some
+one better than anybody else in the world, usually forget themselves,--that
+is to say, they overlook themselves. How about Anne?"
+
+"Rather epigrammatic, aren't you, granddaddy? I have Anne's word for it,
+that's all. She wouldn't marry me if she loved any one more than she does
+me,--not even herself, as you put it. I am sure if I were Anne I should
+love myself better than all the rest of the world."
+
+"A very pretty speech, my boy. You should make an exceptionally
+fashionable doctor. You will pardon me for appearing to be cynical, but
+you see I am a very old man and somewhat warped,--bent, you might say, in
+my attitude toward the tender passion as it is practised to-day. Still, I
+shall take your word for it. Anne loves you devotedly, and you love her.
+The only thing necessary, therefore, is a professional practice, or, in
+other words, a practical profession. I am sure you will achieve both. You
+have my best wishes. I love you, my boy. You are the only thing left in
+life for me to love. Your father was my only son. He would have been a
+great man, I am sure, if he had not been my son. I spoiled him. I think
+that is the reason why he died so young. Now, my dear grandson, I am not
+going to make the mistake with his son that I made with my own. I intend
+that you shall fight your own battles. Among other things, you will have
+to fight pretty hard for Anne. That is a mere detail, of course. You are a
+resolute, determined, sincere fellow, Braden, and you have in you the
+making of a splendid character. You will succeed in anything you
+undertake. I like your eye, my boy, and I like the set of your jaw. You
+have principle and you have a sense of reverence that is quite uncommon in
+these days of ours. I daresay you have been wicked in an essential sort of
+way, and I fancy you have been just as necessarily honourable. I don't
+like a mollycoddle. I don't like anything invertebrate. I despise a
+Christian who doesn't understand Christ. Christ despised sin but he didn't
+despise sinners. And that brings us back to Mrs. Tresslyn,--Constance Blair
+that was. You will have to be exceedingly well fortified, my boy, if you
+expect to withstand the clever Constance. She is the refinement of
+maternal ambition. She will not be satisfied to have her daughter married
+to a mere practice. She didn't bring her up for that. She will ask me to
+come and see her within the next few days. What am I to say to her when
+she asks me if I expect you and Anne to live on what you can earn out of
+your ridiculous profession?"
+
+"I think that's all pretty well understood," said Braden easily. "You do
+Mrs. Tresslyn an injustice, granddaddy. She says it will be a splendid
+thing for Anne to struggle along as we shall have to do for a while.
+Character building, is the way she puts it."
+
+"Just the same, I shall expect a message from her before the engagement is
+announced," said the old man drily.
+
+A hard glitter had come into his eyes. He loved this good-looking, earnest
+grandson of his, and he was troubled. He lay awake half the night thinking
+over this piece of not unexpected news.
+
+The next morning at breakfast he said to Braden: "See here, my boy, you
+spoke to me recently about your desire to spend a year in and about the
+London hospitals before settling down to the real business of life. I've
+been thinking it over. You can't very well afford to pay for these
+finishing touches after you've begun struggling along on your own hook,
+and trying to make both ends meet on a slender income, so I'd suggest that
+you take this next year as a gift from me and spend it on the other side,
+working with my good friend, Sir George Bascombe, the greatest of all the
+English surgeons. I don't believe you will ever regret it."
+
+Braden was overjoyed. "I should like nothing better, grandfather. By jove,
+you are good to me. You--"
+
+"It is only right and just that I should give to the last of my race the
+chance to be a credit to it." There was something cryptic in the remark,
+but naturally it escaped Braden's notice. "You are the only one of the
+Thorpes left, my boy. I was an only son and, strange as it may appear, I
+was singularly without avuncular relatives. It is not surprising,
+therefore, that I should desire to make a great man out of you. You shall
+not be handicapped by any failure on my part to do the right thing by you.
+If it is in my power to safeguard you, it is my duty to exercise that
+power. Nothing must be allowed to stand in the way or to obstruct your
+progress. Nothing must be allowed to check your ambition or destroy your
+courage. So, if you please, I think you ought to have this chance to work
+with Bascombe. A year is a short time to a chap of your age and
+experience, and it may be the most valuable one in a long and successful
+life."
+
+"If I can ever grow to be half as wise and half as successful as you,
+grandfather, I shall have achieved more than--"
+
+"My boy, I inherited my success and I've been more of a fool than you
+suspect. My father left me with two or three millions of dollars, and the
+little wisdom that I have acquired I would pass on to you instead of money
+if it were possible to do so. A man cannot bequeath his wisdom. He may
+inherit it, but he can't give it away, for the simple reason that no one
+will take it as a gift. It is like advice to the young: something to
+disregard. My father left me a great deal of money, and I was too much of
+a coward to become a failure. Only the brave men are failures. They are
+the ones who take the risks. If you are going to be a surgeon, be a great
+one. Now, when do you think you can go to London?"
+
+Braden, his face aglow, was not long in answering. "I'll speak to Anne
+about it to-night. If she is willing to marry me at once, we'll start
+immediately. By Jove, sir, it is wonderful! It is the greatest thing that
+ever happened to a fellow. I--"
+
+"Ah, but I'm afraid that doesn't fit in with my plan," interrupted the old
+man, knitting his brows. "It is my idea that you should devote yourself to
+observation and not to experimentation,--to study instead of honeymooning.
+A bride is out of the question, Braden. This is to be my year and not
+Anne's."
+
+They were a week thrashing it out, and in the end it was Mrs. Tresslyn who
+settled the matter. She had had her talk with Mr. Templeton Thorpe, and,
+after hearing all that he had to say, expressed herself in no uncertain
+terms on the advisability of postponing the wedding for a year if not
+longer. Something she said in private to Anne appeared to have altered
+that charming young person's notions in regard to an early wedding, so
+Braden found himself without an ally. He went to London early in the fall,
+with Anne's promises safely stowed away in his heart, and he came back in
+the middle of his year with Sir George, dazed and bewildered by her
+faithlessness and his grandfather's perfidy.
+
+Out of a clear sky had come the thunderbolt. And then, while he was still
+dazed and furious, his grandfather had tried to convince him that he had
+done him a deuce of a good turn in showing up Anne Tresslyn!
+
+In patience the old man had listened to his grandson's tirade, his
+ravings, his anathemas. He had heard himself called a traitor. He had
+smiled grimly on being described as a satyr! When words and breath at last
+failed the stalwart Braden, the old gentleman, looking keenly out from
+beneath his shaggy brows, and without the slightest trace of resentment in
+his manner, suggested that they leave the matter to Anne.
+
+"If she really wants you, my boy, she'll chuck me and my two-million-
+dollar purse out of the window, so to speak, and she'll marry you in spite
+of your poverty. If she does that, I'll be satisfied. I'll step down and
+out and I'll praise God for his latest miracle. If she looks at it from
+the other point of view,--the perfectly safe and secure way, you
+understand,--and confirms her allegiance to me, I'll still be exceedingly
+happy in the consciousness that I've done you a good turn. I will enter my
+extreme old age in the race against your healthy youth. I will proffer my
+three or four remaining years to her as against the fifty you may be able
+to give her. Go and see her at once. Then come back here to me and tell me
+what she says."
+
+And so it was that Braden Thorpe returned, as he had agreed to do, to the
+home of the man who had robbed him of his greatest possession,--faith in
+woman. He found his grandfather seated in the library, in front of a half-
+dead fire. A word, in passing, to describe this remarkable old man. He was
+tall and thin, and strangely erect for one of his years. His gaunt, seamed
+face was beardless and almost repellent in its severity. In his deep-set,
+piercing eyes lurked all the pains of a lifetime. He had been a strong,
+robust man; the framework was all that remained of the staunch house in
+which his being had dwelt for so long. His hand shook and his knee
+rebelled against exertion, but his eye was unwavering, his chin
+unflinching. White and sparse was the thatch of hair upon his shrunken
+skull, and harsh was the thin voice that came from his straight,
+colourless lips. He walked with a cane, and seldom without the patient,
+much-berated Wade at his elbow, a prop against the dreaded day when his
+legs would go back on him and the brink would appear abruptly out of
+nowhere at his very feet. And there were times when he put his hand to his
+side and held it there till the look of pain softened about his mouth and
+eyes, though never quite disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+It was Templeton Thorpe's contention that Braden was a family investment,
+and that a good investment will take care of itself if properly handled.
+He considered himself quite capable of making a man of Braden, but he did
+not allow the boy to think that the job was a one-sided undertaking.
+Braden worked for all that he received. There was no silver platter, no
+golden spoon in Mr. Thorpe's cupboard. They understood each other
+perfectly and Templeton Thorpe was satisfied with his investment.
+
+That is why his eyes twinkled when Braden burst into the library after his
+fruitless appeal to Mrs. Tresslyn. He smiled as one smiles with relief
+when a craft he is watching glides safely but narrowly past a projecting
+abutment.
+
+"Calm yourself," he remarked after Braden's somewhat wild and incoherent
+beginning. "And sit down. You will not get anywhere pacing this twenty by
+thirty room, and you are liable to run into something immovable if you
+don't stop glaring at me and watch out where you are going instead."
+
+"Sit down?" shouted Braden, stopping before the old man in the chair, his
+hands clinched and his teeth showing. "I'll never sit down in your house
+again! What do you think I am? A snivelling, cringing dog that has to lick
+your hand for--"
+
+"Now, now!" admonished the old man, without anger. "If you will not sit
+down, at least be kind enough to stand still. I can't understand half you
+say while you are stamping around like that. This isn't a china shop.
+Control yourself. Now, let's have it in so many words and not so many
+gesticulations. So Anne declined to see you, eh?"
+
+"I don't believe Anne had a voice in the matter. Mrs. Tresslyn is at the
+back of all this. She is the one who has roped you in,--duped you, or
+whatever you choose to call it without resorting to profanity. She's
+forcing Anne into this damnable marriage, and she is making a perfect fool
+of you. Can't you see it? Can't you see--but, my God, how can I ask that
+question of you? When a man gets to be as old as you, he--" He broke off
+abruptly, on the point of uttering the unforgivable.
+
+"Go on, my boy," said Templeton Thorpe quietly. "Say it. I shan't mind."
+
+"Oh, what's the use?" groaned the miserable lover. "I cannot say anything
+more to you, sir, than I said early this afternoon. I told you then just
+what I think of your treachery. There isn't anything more for me to say,
+but I'd like you to know that Anne despises you. Her mother acknowledges
+that much at least,--and, curse her, without shame!"
+
+"I am quite well aware of the fact, Braden," said the old man. "You
+couldn't expect her to love me, could you?"
+
+"Then, why in God's name are you marrying her? Why are you spoiling my
+life? Why are you--"
+
+"Is it spoiling your life to have the girl you love turn to and marry an
+old wreck such as I am, just because I happen to be willing to pay her two
+million dollars,--in advance, you might say? Is that spoiling your life or
+saving it?"
+
+Mr. Thorpe had dropped the cynical, half-amused air, and was now speaking
+with great intensity. Braden, struck by the change, turned suddenly to
+regard the old man with a new and puzzled light in his lowering eyes.
+
+"See here, my lad, you've had your chance. I knew what I was about when I
+sent you to see her. I knew precisely what would happen. She wants to
+marry you, but she prefers to marry me. That isn't as ambiguous as it
+sounds. Just think it over,--later on, not now, for I have something else
+to say to you. Do me the honour to be seated. Thank you. Now, you've got
+quite a good-sized, respectable nose upon your face. I submit that the
+situation is quite as plain as that nose, if you look at it in the broad
+light of understanding. If you think that I am marrying Anne because I
+love her, or because I am in my dotage and afflicted with senility, you
+are very much mistaken. If you think I am giving her two million dollars
+as a wedding gift because I expect it to purchase her love and esteem, you
+do my intelligence an injustice. If you think that I relish the prospect
+of having that girl in my house from now till the day I die, worrying the
+soul out of me, you are too simple for words. I am marrying her, not
+because I love her, my lad, but--but because I love _you_. God forbid that
+I should ever sink so low as to steal from my own flesh and blood.
+Stealing is one thing, bartering another. I expect to convince you that I
+have not taken anything from you that is of value, hence I am not a
+malefactor."
+
+Braden, seated opposite him, his elbows on the arms of the chair, leaned
+forward and watched the old man curiously. A new light had come into his
+eyes when Mr. Thorpe uttered those amazing words--"but because I love
+_you_." He was beginning to see, he was beginning to analyse the old man's
+motives, he was groping his way out of the fog.
+
+"You will have hard work to convince me that I have not been treated most
+unfairly, most vilely," said he, his lips still compressed.
+
+"Many years ago," said Mr. Thorpe, fixing his gaze on the lazy fire, "I
+asked Anne's grandmother to marry me. I suppose I thought that I was
+unalterably in love with her. I was the very rich son of a very rich man,
+and--pardon my conceit--what you would call an exceedingly good catch. Well,
+in those days things were not as they are now. The young lady, a great
+beauty and amazingly popular, happened to be in love with Roger Blair, a
+good-looking chap with no fortune and no prospects. She took the advice of
+her mother and married the man she loved, disdaining my riches and me as
+well. Roger wasn't much of a success as a husband, but he was a source of
+enlightenment and education to his wife. Not in the way you would suspect,
+however. He managed in very short order to convince her that it is a very
+ignorant mother who permits her daughter to marry a man without means.
+They hadn't been married three years when his wife had learned her lesson.
+It was too late to get rid of Roger, and by that time I was happily
+married to a girl who was quite as rich as I, and could afford to do as
+she pleased. So, you see, Anne's grandmother had to leave me out of the
+case, even though Roger would have been perfectly delighted to have given
+her sufficient grounds for divorce. I think you knew Anne's grandmother,
+Braden?" He paused for an answer, a sly, appraising look in his eyes.
+Receiving no response except a slight nod of the head, he chuckled softly
+and went on with the history.
+
+"Poor soul, she's gone to her reward. Now we come to Anne's mother. She
+was an only child,--and one was quite enough, I assure you. No mother ever
+had greater difficulty in satisfactorily placing a daughter than had Mrs.
+Blair. There was an army of young but not very dependable gentlemen who
+would have married her like a flash, notwithstanding her own poverty, had
+it not been for the fact that Mrs. Blair was so thoroughly educated by
+this time that she couldn't even contemplate a mistake in her
+calculations. She had had ample proof that love doesn't keep the wolf from
+the door, nor does it draw five per cent, as some other bonds do. She
+brought Constance up in what is now considered to be the most approved
+fashion in high society. The chap who had nothing but health and ambition
+and honour and brains to offer, in addition to that unprofitable thing
+called love, was a viper in Mrs. Blair's estimation. He was very properly
+and promptly stamped upon by the fond mother and doubtless was very glad
+to crawl off into the high grass, out of danger. He--"
+
+"What has all this got to do with your present behaviour?" demanded Braden
+harshly. "Speaking of vipers," he added, by way of comment.
+
+"I am coming to that," said Mr. Thorpe, resenting the interruption but not
+its sting. "After a careful campaign, Arthur Tresslyn was elected. He had
+a great deal of money, a kind heart and scarcely any brains. He was an
+ideal choice, everybody was agreed upon that. The fellow that Constance
+was really in love with at the time, Jimmy Gordon, was a friend of your
+father's. Well, the gentle Arthur went to pieces financially a good many
+years ago. He played hob with all the calculations, and so we find
+Constance, his wife, lamenting in the graveyard of her hopes and cursing
+Jimmy Gordon for his unfaithfulness in marrying before he was in a
+position to do so. If Jimmy had remained single for twelve years longer
+than he did, I daresay Arthur's widow would have succeeded in nabbing him
+whether or no. Arthur managed to die very happily, they say, quite well
+pleased with himself for having squandered the fortune which brought him
+so much misery. Now we come to Anne, Arthur's daughter. She became deeply
+enamoured of a splendid, earnest young chap named Braden Thorpe, grandson
+of the wealthy and doddering Templeton Thorpe, and recognised as his sole
+heir. Keep your seat, Braden; I am coming to the point. This young Thorpe
+trusted the fair and beautiful Anne. He set out to make a name and fortune
+for himself and for her. He sought knowledge and experience in distant
+lands, leaving his poor old grandfather at home with nothing to amuse
+himself with except nine millions of dollars and his dread of death. While
+Braden was experimenting in London, this doddering, senile old gentleman
+of Washington Square began to experiment a little on his own account. He
+set out to discover just what sort of stuff this Anne Tresslyn was made of
+and to prove to himself that she was worthy of his grandson's love. He
+began with the girl's mother. As soon as possible, he explained to her
+that money is a curse. She agreed that money is a curse if you haven't got
+it. In time, he confessed to her that he did not mean to curse his
+grandson with an unearned fortune, and that he intended to leave him in
+his will the trifling sum of fifty thousand dollars, thereby endowing him
+with the ambition and perhaps the energy to earn more and at the same time
+be of great benefit to the world in which he would have to struggle. Also,
+he let it be known that he was philanthropically inclined, that he
+purposed giving a great many millions to science and that his death would
+be of untold value to the human race. Are you attending, Braden? If you
+are not, I shall stop talking at once. It is very exhausting and I haven't
+much breath or time to waste."
+
+"I am listening. Go on," said Braden, suddenly sitting up in his chair and
+taking a long, deep breath. The angry, antagonistic light was gone from
+his eyes.
+
+"Well, the clever Mrs. Tresslyn was interested--deeply interested in my
+disclosures. She did not hesitate to inform me that Anne couldn't begin to
+live on the income from a miserable fifty thousand, and actually laughed
+in my face when I reminded her of the young lady's exalted preference for
+love in a cottage and joy at any price. Biding my time, I permitted the
+distressing truth to sink in. You will remember that Anne's letters began
+to come less frequently about four months ago, and--"
+
+"How do you happen to know about that?" broke in the young man, in
+surprise.
+
+"Where she had been in the habit of writing twice and even three times a
+week," went on Mr. Thorpe, "she was content to set herself to the task of
+dropping you a perfunctory letter once in a fortnight. You will also
+recall that her letters were not so full of intensity--or enthusiasm: they
+lacked fervour, they fell off considerably in many ways. I happen to know
+about all this, Braden, because putting two and two together has always
+been exceedingly simple for me. You see, it was about three months ago
+that Anne began to reveal more than casual interest in Percy Wintermill.
+She--"
+
+"Percy Wintermill!" gasped Braden, clutching the arms of his chair. "Why,
+she has always looked upon him as the stupidest, ugliest man in town. His
+attentions have been a standing joke between us. He is crazy about her, I
+know, but--oh, well, go on with the story."
+
+"To be sure he is crazy about her, as you say. That isn't strange. Half
+the young men in town think they are in love with her, and most of them
+believe she could make them happy. Now, no one concedes physical beauty or
+allurement to Percy. He is as ugly as they grow, but he isn't stupid. He
+is just a nice, amiable, senseless nincompoop with a great deal of money
+and a tremendous amount of health. He--"
+
+"I like Wintermill. He is one of my best friends. He is as square as any
+man I know and he would be the last person to try to come between Anne and
+me. He is too fond of me for that, sir. You--"
+
+"Unfortunately he was not aware of the fact that you and Anne were
+engaged. You forget that the engagement was to be kept under cover for the
+time being. But all this is beside the question. Mrs. Tresslyn had looked
+the field over pretty carefully. No one appeared to be so well qualified
+to take your place as Percy Wintermill. He had everything that is
+desirable in a husband except good looks and perhaps good manners. So she
+began fishing for Percy. Anne was a delightful bait. Of course, Percy's
+robust health was objectionable, but it wasn't insurmountable. I could see
+that Anne loathed the thought of having him for a husband for thirty or
+forty years. Anybody could see that,--even Percy must have possessed
+intelligence enough to see it for himself. Finally, about six weeks ago,
+Anne rose above her environment. She allowed Percy to propose, asked for a
+few days in which to make up her mind, and then came out with a point-
+blank refusal. She defied her mother, openly declaring that she would
+marry you in spite of everything."
+
+"And that is just what she shall do, poor girl," cried Braden joyously.
+"She shall not be driven into--"
+
+"Just a moment, please. When I discovered that young Wintermill couldn't
+be depended upon to rescue his best friend, I stepped into the arena, so
+to speak," said Mr. Thorpe with fine irony. "I sensed the situation
+perfectly. Percy was young and strong and enduring. He would be a long
+time dying in the natural order of things. What Anne was looking for--now,
+keep your seat, my boy!--what she wanted was a husband who could be
+depended upon to leave her a widow before it was too late. Now, I am
+seventy-seven, and failing pretty rapidly. It occurred to me that I would
+be just the thing for her. To make the story short, I began to dilate upon
+my great loneliness, and also hinted that if I could find the right sort
+of companion I would jump at the chance to get married. That's putting it
+rather coarsely, my boy, but the whole business is so ugly that it doesn't
+seem worth while to affect delicacy. Inside of two weeks, we had come to
+an understanding,--that is, an arrangement had been perfected. I think that
+everything was agreed upon except the actual day of my demise. As you
+know, I am to set aside for Anne as an ante-nuptial substitute for all
+dower rights in my estate, the sum of two million dollars. I may add that
+the securities guaranteeing this amount have been submitted to Mrs.
+Tresslyn and she has found them to be gilt-edged. These securities are to
+be held in trust for her until the day I die, when they go to her at once,
+according to our contract. She agrees to--"
+
+"By gad, sir, it is infamous! Absolutely infamous!" exclaimed young
+Thorpe, springing to his feet. "I cannot--I will not believe it of her."
+
+"She agrees to relinquish all claims to my estate," concluded the old man,
+with a chuckle. "Inasmuch as I have made it quite clear that all of my
+money is to go to charity,--scientific charity,--I imagine that the
+Tresslyns feel that they have made a pretty good bargain."
+
+"I still maintain that she will renounce the whole detestable--"
+
+"She would go back on her contract like a shot if she thought that I
+intended to include you among my scientific charities," interrupted the
+old man.
+
+"Oh, if I could only have an hour--half an hour with her," groaned Braden.
+"I could overcome the vile teaching of her mother and bring her to a
+realisation of what is ahead of her. I--"
+
+"Do you honestly,--in your heart, Braden,--believe that you could do that?"
+demanded Mr. Thorpe, arising from his chair and laying his hand upon the
+young man's shoulder. He forced the other's eyes to meet his. "Do you
+believe that she would be worthy of your love and respect even though she
+did back out of this arrangement? I want an honest answer."
+
+"God help me, I--I don't know what to think," cried Braden miserably. "I am
+shocked, bewildered. I can't say what I believe, grandfather. I only know
+that I have loved her better than my own soul. I don't know what to think
+now."
+
+"You might also say that she loves herself better than she loves her own
+soul," said the old man grimly. "She will go on loving you, I've no doubt,
+in a strictly physical way, but I wouldn't put much dependence in her
+soulfulness. One of these fine days, she will come to you and say that she
+has earned two million dollars, and she will ask you if it is too late to
+start all over again. What will you say to that?"
+
+"Good Lord, sir, what would you expect me to say?" exploded Braden. "I
+should tell her to--to go to hell!" he grated between his teeth.
+
+"Meanwhile, I want you to understand that I have acted for your best
+interests, Braden. God knows I am not in love with this girl. I know her
+kind, I know her breed. I want to save you from--well, I want to give you a
+fighting chance to be a great, good man. You need the love of a fine,
+unselfish woman to help you to the heights you aspire to reach. Anne
+Tresslyn would not have helped you. She cannot see above her own level.
+There are no heights for her. She belongs to the class that never looks up
+from the ground. They are always following the easiest path. I am doing
+you a good turn. Somewhere in this world there is a noble, self-
+sacrificing woman who will make you happy, who will give strength to you,
+who will love you for yourself and not for _herself_. Go out and find her,
+my boy. You will recognise her the instant you see her."
+
+"But you--what of you?" asked Braden, deeply impressed by the old man's
+unsuspected sentiment. "Will you go ahead and--and marry her, knowing that
+she will make your last few years of life unhappy, un--"
+
+"I am under contract," said Templeton Thorpe grimly. "I never go back on a
+contract."
+
+"I shall see her, nevertheless," said Braden doggedly.
+
+"It is my desire that you should. In fact, I shall make it my business to
+see that you do. After that, I fancy you will not care to remain here for
+the wedding. I should advise you to return to London as soon as you have
+had it out with her."
+
+"I shall remain here until the very hour of the wedding if it is to take
+place, and up to that very hour I shall do my best to prevent it,
+grandfather."
+
+"Your failure to do so will make me the happiest man in New York," said
+Mr. Thorpe, emotion in his voice, "for I love you dearly, Braden."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+A conspicuous but somewhat unimportant member of the Tresslyn family was a
+young man of twenty-four. He was Anne's brother, and he had preceded her
+into the world by the small matter of a year and two months. Mrs. Tresslyn
+had set great store by him. Being a male child he did not present the
+grave difficulties that attend the successful launching and disposal of
+the female of the species to which the Tresslyn family belonged. He was
+born with the divine right to pick and choose, and that is something that
+at present appears to be denied the sisters of men. But the amiable
+George, at the age of one and twenty and while still a freshman in
+college, picked a girl without consulting his parent and in a jiffy put an
+end to the theory that man's right is divine.
+
+It took more than half of Mrs. Tresslyn's income for the next two years,
+the ingenuity of a firm of expensive lawyers, the skill of nearly a dozen
+private detectives, and no end of sleepless nights to untie the loathsome
+knot, and even then George's wife had a shade the better of them in that
+she reserved the right to call herself Mrs. Tresslyn, quite permanently
+disgracing his family although she was no longer a part of it.
+
+The young woman was employed as a demonstrator for a new brand of mustard
+when George came into her life. The courtship was brief, for she was a
+pretty girl and virtuous. She couldn't see why there should be anything
+wrong in getting married, and therefore was very much surprised, and not a
+little chagrined, to find out almost immediately after the ceremony that
+she had committed a heinous and unpardonable sin. She shrank for a while
+under the lashings, and then, like a beast driven to cover, showed her
+teeth.
+
+If marriage was not sanctuary, she would know the reason why. With a
+single unimposing lawyer and not the remotest suggestion of a detective to
+reinforce her position, she took her stand against the unhappy George and
+his mother, and so successful were her efforts to make divorce difficult
+that she came out of chambers with thirty thousand dollars in cash, an
+aristocratic name, and a valuable claim to theatrical distinction.
+
+All this transpired less than two years prior to the events which were to
+culminate in the marriage of George's only sister to the Honourable
+Templeton Thorpe of Washington Square. Needless to say, George was now
+looked upon in the small family as a liability. He was a never-present
+help in time of trouble. The worst thing about him was his obstinate
+regard for the young woman who still bore his name but was no longer his
+wife. At twenty-four he looked upon himself as a man who had nothing to
+live for. He spent most of his time gnashing his teeth because the pretty
+little divorcee was receiving the attentions of young gentlemen in his own
+set, without the slightest hint of opposition on the part of their
+parents, while he was obliged to look on from afar off.
+
+It appears that parents do not object to young women of insufficient
+lineage provided the said young women keep at a safe distance from the
+marriage altar.
+
+It is interesting to note in this connection, however, that little Mrs.
+George Tresslyn was a model of propriety despite her sprightly
+explorations of a world that had been strange to her up to the time she
+was cast into it by a disgusted mother-in-law, and it is still more
+interesting to find that she nourished a sly hope that some day George
+would kick over the traces in a very manly fashion and marry her all over
+again!
+
+Be that as it may, the bereft and humiliated George favoured his mother
+and sister with innumerable half-hours in which they had to contend with
+scornful and exceedingly bitter opinions on the iniquity of marriage as it
+is practised among the elect. He fairly bawled his disapproval of the sale
+of Anne to the decrepit Mr. Thorpe, and there was not a day in the week
+that did not contain at least one unhappy hour for the women in his home,
+for just so often he held forth on the sanctity of the marriage vows.
+
+He was connected with a down-town brokerage firm and he was as near to
+being a failure in the business as an intimate and lifelong friend of the
+family would permit him to be and still allow him to remain in the office.
+His business was the selling of bonds. The friend of the family was the
+head of the firm, so no importance should be attached to the fact that
+George did not earn his salt as a salesman. It is only necessary to report
+that the young man made frequent and determined efforts to sell his wares,
+but with so little success that he would have been discouraged had it not
+been for the fact that he was intimately acquainted with himself. He knew
+himself too well to expect people to take much stock in the public
+endeavours of one whose private affairs were so far beneath notice. Men
+were not likely to overlook the disgraceful treatment of the little
+"mustard girl," for even the men who have mistreated women in their time
+overlook their own chicanery in preaching decency over the heads of others
+who have not played the game fairly. George looked upon himself as a
+marked man, against whom the scorn of the world was justly directed.
+
+Strange as it may appear, George Tresslyn was a tall, manly looking
+fellow, and quite handsome. At a glance you would have said that he had a
+great deal of character in his make-up and would get on in the world. Then
+you would hear about his matrimonial delinquency and instantly you would
+take a second glance. The second and more searching look would have
+revealed him as a herculean light-weight,--a man of strength and beauty and
+stature spoiled in the making. And you would be sorry that you had made
+the discovery, for it would take you back to his school days, and then you
+would encounter the causes.
+
+He had gone to a preparatory school when he was twelve. It was eight years
+before he got into the freshman class of the college that had been
+selected as the one best qualified to give him a degree, and there is no
+telling how long he might have remained there, faculty willing, had it not
+been for the interfering "mustard girl." He could throw a hammer farther
+and run the hundred faster than any youth in the freshman class, and he
+could handle an oar with the best of them, but as he had spent nearly
+eight years in acquiring this proficiency to the exclusion of anything
+else it is not surprising that he excelled in these pursuits, nor is it
+surprising that he possessed a decided aversion for the things that are
+commonly taught in college by studious-looking gentlemen who do not even
+belong to the athletic association and have forgotten their college yell.
+
+George boasted, in his freshman year, that if the faculty would let him
+alone he could easily get through the four years without flunking a single
+thing in athletics. It was during the hockey season, just after the
+Christmas holidays, that he married the pretty "mustard girl" and put an
+abrupt end to what must now be regarded as a superficial education.
+
+He carried his athletic vigour into the brokerage offices, however. No one
+could accuse him of being lazy, and no one could say that he did not make
+an effort. He possessed purpose and determination after a fashion, for he
+was proud and resentful; but he lacked perspective, no matter which way he
+looked for it. Behind him was a foggy recollection of the things he should
+have learned, and ahead was the dark realisation that the world is made up
+principally of men who cannot do the mile under thirty minutes but who
+possess amazing powers of endurance when it comes to running circles
+around the man who is trained to do the hundred yard dash in ten seconds
+flat.
+
+A few minutes after Braden Thorpe's departure from the Tresslyn drawing-
+room, young George entered the house and stamped upstairs to his
+combination bed-chamber and sitting-room on the top floor. He always went
+upstairs three steps at a time, as if in a hurry to have it over with. He
+had a room at the top of the house because he couldn't afford one lower
+down. A delayed sense of compunction had ordered Mrs. Tresslyn to insist
+upon George's paying his own way through life, now that he was of age and
+working for himself.
+
+When George found it impossible to pay his week's reckoning out of his
+earnings, he blithely borrowed the requisite amount--and a little over--from
+friends down-town, and thereby enjoyed the distinction of being uncommonly
+prompt in paying his landlady on the dot. So much for character-building.
+
+And now one of these "muckers" down-town was annoying him with persistent
+demands for the return of numerous small loans extending over a period of
+nineteen months. That sort of thing isn't done among gentlemen, according
+to George Tresslyn's code. For a month or more he had been in the
+humiliating position of being obliged to dodge the fellow, and he was
+getting tired of it. The whole amount was well under six hundred dollars,
+and as he had made it perfectly plain to the beggar that he was drawing
+ten per cent. on the loans, he couldn't see what sense there was in being
+in such a hurry to collect. On the other hand, as the beggar wasn't
+receiving the interest, it is quite possible that he could not look at the
+situation from George's point of view.
+
+Young Mr. Tresslyn finally had reached the conclusion that he would have
+to ask his mother for the money. He knew that the undertaking would prove
+a trying one, so he dashed up to his room for the purpose of fortifying
+himself with a stiff drink of benedictine.
+
+Having taken the drink, he sat down for a few minutes to give it a chance
+to become inspirational. Then he skipped blithely down to his mother's
+boudoir and rapped on the door,--not timidly or imploringly but with
+considerable authority. Receiving no response, he moved on to Anne's
+sitting-room, whence came the subdued sound of voices in conversation. He
+did not knock at Anne's door, but boldly opened it and advanced into the
+room.
+
+"Hello! Here you are," said George amiably.
+
+He was met by a cold, disapproving stare from his mother and a little gasp
+of dismay from Anne. It was quite apparent that he was an intruder.
+
+"I wish you would be good enough to knock before entering, George," said
+Mrs. Tresslyn severely.
+
+"I did," said George, "but you were not in. I always knock at your door,
+mother. You can't say that I've ever forgotten to do it." He looked
+aggrieved. "You surely don't mean that I ought to knock at Anne's door?"
+
+"Certainly. What do you want?"
+
+"Well," he began, depositing his long body on the couch and preparing to
+stretch out, "I'd like to kiss both of you if you'll let me."
+
+"Don't be silly," said Anne, "and don't put your feet on that clean
+chintz."
+
+"All right," said he cheerfully. "My, how lovely the bride is looking to-
+day! I wish old Tempy could see you now. He'd--"
+
+"If you are going to be disagreeable, George, you may get out at once,"
+said Mrs. Tresslyn.
+
+"I never felt less like being objectionable in my life," said he, "so if
+you don't mind I'll stay awhile. By the way, Anne, speaking of
+disagreeable things, I am sure I saw Brady Thorpe on the avenue a bit ago.
+Has your discarded skeleton come back with a key to your closet?"
+
+"Braden is in New York," said his mother acidly. "Is it necessary for you
+to be vulgar, George?"
+
+"Not at all," said he. "When did he arrive? I hope you don't see anything
+vulgar in that, mother," he made haste to add.
+
+"He reached New York to-day, I think. He has been here to see me. He has
+gone away. There is nothing more to be said, so please be good enough to
+consider the subject--"
+
+"Gee! but I'd like to have heard what he had to say to you!"
+
+"I am glad that you didn't," said Anne, "for if you had you might have
+been under the painful necessity of calling him to account for it, and I
+don't believe you'd like that."
+
+"Facetious, eh? Well, my mind is relieved at any rate. He spoke up like a
+little man, didn't he, mother? I thought he would. And I'll bet you gave
+him as good as he sent, so he's got his tail between his legs now and
+yelping for mercy. How does he look, Anne? Handsome as ever?"
+
+"Anne did not see him."
+
+"Of course she didn't. How stupid of me. Where is he stopping?"
+
+"With his grandfather, I suppose," said Mrs. Tresslyn, as tolerant as
+possible.
+
+"Naturally. I should have known that without asking. Getting the old boy
+braced up for the wedding, I suppose. Pumping oxygen into him, and all
+that sort of thing. And that reminds me of something else. I may give
+myself the pleasure of a personal call upon my prospective brother-in-law
+to-morrow."
+
+"What?" cried his mother sharply.
+
+"Yep," said George blithely. "I may have to do it. It's purely a business
+matter, so don't worry. I shan't say a word about the wedding. Far be it
+from me to distress an old gentleman about--"
+
+"What business can you have with Mr. Thorpe?" demanded his mother.
+
+"Well, as I don't believe in keeping secrets from you, mother, I'll
+explain. You see, I want to see if I can't negotiate the sale of a
+thousand dollar note. Mr. Thorpe may be in the market to buy a good, safe,
+gilt-edge note--"
+
+"Come to the point. Whose note are you trying to sell?"
+
+"My own," said George promptly.
+
+Anne laughed. "You would spell gilt with a letter u inserted before the i,
+in that case, wouldn't you?"
+
+"I give you my word," said George, "I don't know how to spell it. The two
+words sound exactly alike and I'm always confusing them."
+
+His mother came and stood over him. "George, you are not to go to Mr.
+Thorpe with your pecuniary difficulties. I forbid it, do you understand?"
+
+"Forbid it, mother? Great Scot, what's wrong in an honest little business
+transaction? I shall give him the best of security. If he doesn't care to
+let me have the money on the note, that's his affair. It's business, not
+friendship, I assure you. Old Tempy knows a good thing when he sees it. I
+shall also promise to pay twenty per cent. interest for two years from
+date. Two years, do you understand? If anything should happen to him
+before the two years are up, I'd still owe the money to his estate,
+wouldn't I? You can't deny that--"
+
+"Stop! Not another word, sir! Am I to believe that I have a son who is
+entirely devoid of principle? Are you so lacking in pride that--"
+
+"It depends entirely on how you spell the word, princi_pal_ or with a
+_ple_. I am entirely devoid of the one ending in pal, and I don't see what
+pride has to do with it anyway. Ask Anne. She can tell you all that is
+necessary to know about the Tresslyn pride."
+
+"Shut up!" said Anne languidly.
+
+"It's just this way, mother," said George, sitting up, with a frown. "I've
+got to have five or six hundred dollars. I'll be honest with you, too. I
+owe nearly that much to Percy Wintermill, and he is making himself
+infernally obnoxious about it."
+
+"Percy Wintermill? Have you been borrowing money from him?"
+
+"In a way, yes. That is, I've been asking him for it and he's been lending
+it to me. I don't think I've ever used the word borrow in a single
+instance. I hate the word. I simply say: 'Percy, let me take twenty-five
+for a week or two, will you?' and Percy says, 'All right, old boy,' and
+that's all there is to it. Percy's been all right up to a few weeks ago.
+In fact, I don't believe he would have mentioned the matter at all if Anne
+hadn't turned him down on New Year's Eve. Why the deuce did you refuse
+him, Anne? He'd always been decent till you did that. Now he's perfectly
+impossible."
+
+"You know perfectly well why I refused him," said Anne, lifting her
+eyebrows slightly.
+
+"Right-o! It was because you were engaged to Brady Thorpe. I quite forgot.
+I apologise. You were quite right in refusing him. Be that as it may,
+however, Percy is as sore as a crab. I can't go around owing money to a
+chap who has been refused by my sister, can I? One of the Wintermills,
+too. By Jove, it's awful!" He looked extremely distressed.
+
+"You are not to go to Mr. Thorpe," said his mother from the chair into
+which she had sunk in order to preserve a look of steadiness. A fine
+moisture had come out upon her upper lip. "You must find an honourable way
+in which to discharge your debts."
+
+"Isn't my note as good as anybody's?" he demanded.
+
+"No. It isn't worth a dollar."
+
+"Ah, but it _will_ be if Mr. Thorpe buys it," said he in triumph. "He
+could discount it for full value, if he wanted to. That's precisely what
+makes it good. I'm afraid you don't know very much about high finance,
+mother dear."
+
+"Please go away, George," complained Anne. "Mother and I have a great deal
+to talk about, and you are a dreadful nuisance when you discover a reason
+for coming home so long before dinner-time. Can't you pawn something?"
+
+"Don't be ridiculous," said George.
+
+"Why did you borrow money from Percy Wintermill?" demanded Mrs. Tresslyn.
+
+"There you go, mother, using that word 'borrow' again. I wish you
+wouldn't. It's a vulgar word. You might as well say, 'Why did you _swipe_
+money from Percy Wintermill?' He lent it to me because he realised how
+darned hard-up we are and felt sorry for me, I suppose."
+
+"For heaven's sake, George, don't tell me that you--"
+
+"Don't look so horrified, mother," he interrupted. "I didn't tell him we
+were hard-up. I merely said, from time to time, 'Let me take fifty,
+Percy.' I can't help it if he _suspects_, can I? And say, Anne, he was so
+terribly in love with you that he would have let me take a thousand any
+time I wanted it, if I'd had occasion to ask him for it. You ought to be
+thankful that I didn't."
+
+"Don't drag me into it," said Anne sharply.
+
+"I admit I was fooled all along," said he, with a rueful sigh. "I had an
+idea that you'd be tickled to death to marry into the Wintermill family.
+Position, money, family jewels, and all that sort of thing. Everything
+desirable except Percy. And then, just when I thought something might come
+of it, you up and get engaged to Brady Thorpe, keeping it secret from the
+public into the bargain. Confound it, you didn't even tell me till last
+fall. Your stupid secretiveness allowed me to go on getting into Percy's
+debt, when a word from you might have saved me a lot of trouble."
+
+"Will you kindly leave the room, George?" said his mother, arising.
+
+"Percy is making himself fearfully obnoxious," went on George ominously.
+"For nearly three weeks I've been dodging him, and it can't go on much
+longer. One of these fine days, mother, a prominent member of the
+Wintermill family is going to receive a far from exclusive thrashing.
+That's the only way I can think of to stop him, if I can't raise the money
+to pay him up. Some day I'm going to refrain from dodging and he is going
+to run right square into this." He held up a brawny fist. "I'm going to
+hold it just so, and it won't be too high for his nose, either. Then I'm
+going to pick him up and turn him around, with his face toward the
+Battery, and kick just as hard as I know how. I'll bet my head he'll not
+bother me about money after that--unless, of course, he's cad enough to sue
+me. I don't think he'll do that, however, being a proud and haughty
+Wintermill. I suppose we'll all be eliminated from the Wintermill
+invitation list after that, and it may be that we'll go without a
+fashionable dinner once in awhile, but what's all that to the preservation
+of the family dignity?"
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn leaned suddenly against a chair, and even Anne turned to
+regard her tall brother with a look of real dismay.
+
+"How much do you owe him?" asked the former, controlling her voice with an
+effort.
+
+"Five hundred and sixty-five dollars, including interest. A pitiful sum to
+get thrashed for, isn't it?"
+
+"And you were planning to get the money from Mr. Thorpe to pay Percy?"
+
+"To keep Percy from getting licked, would be the better way to put it. I
+think it's uncommonly decent of me."
+
+"You are--you are a bully, George,--a downright bully," flared Anne,
+confronting him with blazing eyes. "You have no right to frighten mother
+in this way. It's cowardly."
+
+"He doesn't frighten me, dear," said Mrs. Tresslyn, but her lips quivered.
+Turning to her son, she continued: "George, if you will mail a check to
+Percy this minute, I will draw one for you. A Tresslyn cannot owe money to
+a Wintermill. We will say no more about it. The subject is closed. Sit
+down there and draw a check for the amount, and I will sign it. Rawson
+will post it."
+
+George turned his head away, and lowered his chin. A huskiness came
+quickly into his voice.
+
+"I'm--I'm ashamed of myself, mother,--I give you my word I am. I came here
+intending to ask you point-blank to advance me the money. Then the idea
+came into my head to work the bluff about old Mr. Thorpe. That grew into
+Percy's prospective thrashing. I'm sorry. It's the first time I've ever
+tried to put anything over on you."
+
+"Fill in the check, please," she said coldly. "I've just been drawing a
+few for the dressmakers--a few that Anne has just remembered. I shan't in
+the least mind adding one for Percy. He isn't a dressmaker but if I were
+asked to select a suitable occupation for him I don't know of one he'd be
+better qualified to pursue. Fill it in, please."
+
+Her son looked at her admiringly. "By Jove, mother, you are a wonder. You
+never miss fire. I'd give a thousand dollars, if I had it, to see old Mrs.
+Wintermill's face if that remark could be repeated to her."
+
+A faint smile played about his mother's lips. After all, there was honest
+tribute in the speech of this son of hers.
+
+"It would be worse than a bloody nose for Percy," said Anne, slipping an
+arm around her mother's waist. "But I don't like what you said about _me_
+and the dressmakers. I must have gowns. It isn't quite the same as
+George's I.O.U. to Percy, you know."
+
+"Don't be selfish, Anne," cried George, jerking a chair up to the
+escritoire and scrambling among the papers for a pen. "You won't have to
+worry long. You'll soon be so rich that the dressmakers won't dare to send
+you a bill."
+
+"Wait a moment, George," said Mrs. Tresslyn abruptly. "If you do not
+promise to refrain from saying disagreeable things to Anne, I shall
+withdraw my offer to help you out of this scrape."
+
+George faced her. "Does that mean that I am to put my O.K. upon this
+wedding of Anne's?" His look of good-nature disappeared.
+
+"It means that you are not to comment upon it, that's all," said his
+mother. "You have said quite enough. There is nothing more that you can
+add to an already sufficiently distasteful argument."
+
+George swallowed hard as he bent over the checkbook. "All right, mother,
+I'll try to keep my trap closed from now on. But I don't want you to think
+that I'm taking this thing pleasantly. I'll say for the last time,--I
+hope,--that it's a darned crime, and we'll let it go at that."
+
+"Very well. We will let it go at that."
+
+"Great Scot!" burst from his lips as he whirled in the fragile chair to
+face the women of the house. "I just can't help feeling as I do about it.
+I can't bear to think of Anne,--my pretty sister Anne,--married to that old
+rummy. Why, she's fit to be the wife of a god. She's the prettiest girl in
+New York and she'd be one of the best if she had half a chance. A fellow
+like Braden Thorpe would make a queen of her, and that's just what she
+ought to be. Oh, Lord! To think of her being married to that burnt-out,
+shrivelled-up--"
+
+"George! That will do, sir!"
+
+His sister was staring at him in utter perplexity. Something like wonder
+was growing in her lovely, velvety eyes. Never before had she heard such
+words as these from the lips of her big and hitherto far from considerate
+brother, the brother who had always begrudged her the slightest sign of
+favour from their mother, who had blamed her for securing by unfair means
+more than her share of the maternal peace-offerings.
+
+Suddenly the big boy dug his knuckles into his eyes and turned away,
+muttering an oath of mortification. Anne sprang to his side. Her hands
+fell upon his shoulders.
+
+"What are you doing, George? Are--are you crazy?"
+
+"Crazy _nothing_," he choked out, biting his lip. "Go away, Anne. I'm just
+a damned fool, that's all. I--"
+
+"Mother, he's--he's crying," whispered Anne, bewildered. "What is it,
+George?" For the first time in her life she slipped an affectionate arm
+about him and laid her cheek against his sleek, black hair. "Buck up,
+little boy; don't take it like this. I'll--I'll be all right. I'll--oh, I'll
+never forget you for feeling as you do, George. I didn't think you'd
+really care so much."
+
+"Why,--why, Anne, of course I care," he gulped. "Why shouldn't I care?
+Aren't you my sister, and I your brother? I'd be a fine mess of a thing if
+I didn't care. I tell you, mother, it's awful! You know it is! It is a
+queer thing for a brother to say, I suppose, but--but I _do_ love Anne. All
+my life I've looked upon her as the finest thing in the world. I've been
+mean and nasty and all that sort of thing and I'm always saying rotten
+things to her, but, darn it, I--I do love my pretty sister. I ought to hate
+you, Anne, for this infernal thing you are determined to do--I ought to, do
+you understand, but I can't, I just can't. It's the rottenest thing a girl
+can do, and you're doing it, I--oh, say, what's the matter with me?
+Sniffling idiot! I say, where the devil _do_ you keep your pen?"
+Wrathfully he jerked a pile of note paper and blotters off the desk,
+scattering them on the floor. "I'll write the check, mother, and I'll
+promise to do my best hereafter about Anne and old Tempy. And what's more,
+I'll not punch Percy's nose, so you needn't be afraid he'll turn it up at
+us."
+
+The pen scratched vigorously across the check. His mother was regarding
+him with a queer expression in her eyes. She had not moved while he was
+expressing himself so feelingly about Anne. Was it possible that after all
+there was something fine in this boy of hers? His simple, genuine outburst
+was a revelation to her.
+
+"I trust this may be the last time that you will come to me for money in
+this way, George," she said levelly. "You must be made to realise that I
+cannot afford such luxuries as these. You have made it impossible for me
+to refuse you this time. I cannot allow a son of mine to be in debt to a
+Wintermill. You must not borrow money. You--"
+
+He looked up, grinning. "There you go again with that middle-class word,
+mother. But I'll forgive you this once on condition that you never use it
+again. People in our walk of life never _borrow_ anything but trouble, you
+know. We don't borrow money. We arrange for it occasionally, but God
+forbid that we should ever become so common as to borrow it. There you
+are, filled in and ready for your autograph--payable to Percy Reginald Van
+Alstone Wintermill. I put his whole name in so that he'd have to go to the
+exertion of signing it all on the back. He hates work worse than poison.
+I'm glad you didn't accept him, Anne. It would be awful to have to look up
+to a man who is so insignificant that you'd have to look down upon him at
+the same time."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn signed the check. "I will have Rawson post it to him at
+once," she said. "There goes one of your gowns, Anne,--five hundred and
+sixty-five dollars."
+
+"I shan't miss it, mother dear," said Anne cheerfully. She had linked an
+arm through one of George's, much to the surprise and embarrassment of the
+tall young man.
+
+"Bully girl," said he awkwardly. "Just for that I'll kiss the bride next
+month, and wish her the best of luck. I--I certainly hope you'll have
+better luck than I had."
+
+"There's still loads of luck ahead for you, George," said she, a little
+wistfully. "All you've got to do is to keep a sharp lookout and you'll
+find it some day--sooner than I, I'm sure. You'll find the right girl
+and--zip! Everything will be rosy, old boy!"
+
+He smiled wryly. "I've lost the right girl, Anne."
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Tresslyn sharply. Her eyes narrowed as she
+looked into his. "You ought to get down on your knees and thank God that
+you are not married to that--"
+
+"Wait a second, mother," he broke in. "I'm afraid I shall have to ask you
+to let her alone, now that you're rid of her, just as I'm expected to let
+old Tempy slide by without noticing him."
+
+"Nonsense," again said Mrs. Tresslyn, but this time with less confidence
+in her voice. She looked intently into her son's set face and fear was
+revived in her soul, an ever-present fear that slept and roused itself
+with sickening persistency.
+
+"We'll hang her up in the family closet, if you don't mind, alongside of
+Brady Thorpe, and we'll never mention her again if I can help it. I must
+say, though, that our skeletons are uncommonly attractive, aren't they,
+Anne? No dry, rattling bones in our closets, are there?" He squeezed her
+arm playfully, and was amazed when she jerked it away.
+
+"I was nice to you, George, and this is the way you--"
+
+"Forgive me, please. I didn't mean it in an offensive way. I just took it
+for granted that we'd understand each other. At any rate, we've got one
+thing to be thankful for. There are no Wintermill skeletons hanging in our
+closets. We've both succeeded in dodging them, praise the Lord."
+
+It so happened that Percy's excessively homely sister had been considered
+at one time as a most desirable helpmate for the rapidly developing
+George, and it is barely possible that the little mustard girl upset a
+social dynasty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+Mr. Thorpe was as good as his word. He arranged for the meeting between
+Braden and Anne, but with characteristic astuteness laid his plans so that
+they were to come upon each other unexpectedly. It happened on the second
+day after his talk with Braden.
+
+Mr. Thorpe's plan involved other people as well as the two most vitally
+interested. There was to be a meeting at his house late in the afternoon
+for the purpose of signing the ante-nuptial contract already agreed upon.
+Five o'clock was the hour set for the gathering. Lawyers representing both
+parties were to be there, with Mrs. Tresslyn, George and Anne, and Mr.
+Thorpe's private secretary, who, with Dr. Bates, was to serve as a witness
+to the instrument.
+
+At noon Wade delivered a letter to Miss Tresslyn in which Mr. Thorpe said
+that he would be pleased if she would accompany him to Tiffany's for the
+purpose of selecting a string of pearls. He made it quite clear that she
+was to go alone with him, playfully mentioning his desire to be the only
+witness to her confusion when confronted by the "obsequious salesman and
+his baubles from the sea." If quite agreeable to her he would make an
+appointment with the jeweller for 3.30 and would call for her in person.
+After that, he continued, the signing of a contract for life would not
+seem such a portentous undertaking, and they could go to the meeting with
+hearts as light as air. It was a cheerful, even gay little missive, but
+she was not for an instant blind to the irony that lay between the lines.
+
+Anne selected the pearls that he had chosen in advance of their visit to
+Tiffany's. He did not tell her that he had instructed the jeweller to make
+up a string of pearls for her inspection, with the understanding that she
+was to choose for herself from an assortment of half-a-dozen beautiful
+offerings, no price to be mentioned. He was quite sure that she would not
+even consider the cost. He credited her with an honest scorn for
+sentimentality; she would make no effort to glorify him for an act that
+was so obviously a part of their unsentimental compact. There would be no
+gushing over this sardonic tribute to her avarice. She would have herself
+too well in hand for that.
+
+They were about her neck when she entered the house near Washington Square
+almost an hour before the time appointed for the conference. In her secret
+but subdued pleasure over acquiring the costly present, she had lost all
+count of time. That was a part of Mr. Thorpe's expensive programme.
+
+All the way down in the automobile she had been estimating the value of
+her new possession. On one point she was satisfied: there were few
+handsomer strings in New York than hers. She would have to keep them in a
+safe place,--a vault, no doubt. Nearly every matron of her acquaintance
+made a great deal of the fact that she had to buy a safe in which to store
+her treasures. There was something agreeable--subtly agreeable--in owning
+jewels that would have to be kept in one of those staunch, opulent looking
+safes. She experienced a thrill of satisfaction by describing herself in
+advance, as one of the women with pearls. And there was additional
+gratification in the knowledge that she could hardly be called a matron in
+the strict sense of the word. She was glad that she was too young for
+that. She tried to recall the names of all the women who possessed pearls
+like these, and the apparent though undeclared age of each. There was not
+one among them who was under forty. Most of them had endured many years of
+married life before acquiring what she was to have at the outset. Mrs.
+Wintermill, for instance: she was sixty-two or three, and had but recently
+come into a string of pearls not a whit more valuable than the one that
+now adorned her neck and lay hidden beneath the warm fur collar of her
+coat.
+
+Her calculations suddenly hit upon something that could be used as a
+basis. Mrs. Wintermill's pearls had cost sixty-five thousand dollars.
+Sixty-five thousand dollars! She could not resist the impulse to shoot a
+swift, startled look out of the corners of her eyes at the silent old man
+beside her. That was a lot of money! And it was money that he was under no
+obligation to expend upon her. It was quite outside the contract. She was
+puzzled. Why this uncalled for generosity? A queer, sickening doubt
+assailed her.
+
+"Are--are these pearls really and truly to be mine?" she asked. "Mine to
+keep forever?"
+
+"Certainly, my dear," he said, looking at her so oddly that she flushed.
+He had read the thought that was in her mind. "I give and bequeath them to
+you this day, to have and to hold forever," he added, with a smile that
+she could not fail to understand.
+
+"I wanted to be sure," she said, resorting to frankness.
+
+When they entered the Thorpe home, Wade was waiting in the hall with the
+butler. His patient, set smile did not depart so much as the fraction of
+an inch from its habitual condition. His head was cocked a little to one
+side.
+
+"Are we late, Wade?" inquired Mr. Thorpe.
+
+"No, sir," said Wade. "No one has come." He glanced up at the tall clock
+on the landing. "It is a quarter past four, sir. Mrs. Tresslyn telephoned
+a few minutes ago, sir."
+
+"Ah! That she would be late?"
+
+"No, sir. To inquire if--ahem!--if Mr. Braden was likely to be here this
+afternoon."
+
+Anne started violently. A quick, hunted expression leaped into her eyes as
+she looked about her. Something rushed up into her throat, something that
+smothered.
+
+"You informed her, of course, that Mr. Braden declines to honour us with
+his presence," said Mr. Thorpe suavely.
+
+"Yes, sir, in a way."
+
+"Ahem! Well, my dear, make yourself quite at home. Go into the library,
+do. You'll find a roaring fire there. Murray, take Miss Tresslyn's coat.
+Make her comfortable. Come, Wade, your arm. Forgive me, Anne, if I leave
+you to yourself for a few minutes. My joy at having you here is shorn of
+its keenness by a long-established age that demands house-boots, an eider-
+down coat and--Murray, what the devil do you mean by letting the house get
+so cold as all this? It's like a barn. Are the furnaces out. What am I
+paying that rascally O'Toole for? Tell him to--"
+
+"It is quite comfortable, Mr. Thorpe," said Anne, with a slight shiver
+that was not to be charged to the defective O'Toole.
+
+The long, wide hall was dark and grim. Wade was dark and grim, and Murray
+too, despite his rotundity. There were lank shadows at the bottom of the
+hall, grim projections of objects that stood for ornamentation: a suit of
+armour, a gloomy candlestick of prodigious stature, and a thin Italian
+cabinet surmounted by an urn whose unexposed contents might readily have
+suggested something more sinister than the dust of antiquity. The door to
+the library was open. Fitful red shadows flashed dully from the fireplace
+across the room, creeping out into the hall and then darting back again as
+if afraid to venture. The waning sunlight struggled through a curtained
+window at the top of the stairs. There was dusk in the house. Evening had
+fallen there.
+
+Anne stood in the middle of the library, divested of her warm fur coat.
+Murray was poking the fire, and cheerful flames were leaping upward in
+response to the call to wake. She had removed one of her gloves. With the
+slim, bared fingers she fondled the pearls about her neck, but her
+thoughts were not of baubles. She was thinking of this huge room full of
+shadows, shadows through which she would have to walk for many a day,
+where night would always be welcome because of the light it demanded.
+
+It was a man's room. Everything in it was massive, substantial. Big
+chairs, wide lounges, and a thick soft carpet of dull red that deprived
+the footfall of its sound. Books mounted high,--almost to the
+ceiling,--filling all the spaces left unused by the doors and windows.
+Heavy damask curtains shut out the light of day. She wondered why they had
+been drawn so early, and whether they were always drawn like this. Near
+the big fireplace, with its long mantelpiece over which hung suspended the
+portrait of an early Knickerbocker gentleman with ruddy, even convivial
+countenance, stood a long table, a reading lamp at the farther end. Books,
+magazines, papers lay in disorder upon this table.
+
+She recalled something that Braden once had told her: his grandfather
+always "raised Cain" with any one who happened to be guilty of what he
+called criminal orderliness in putting the table to rights. He wanted the
+papers and magazines left just as they were, so that he could put his hand
+upon them without demanding too much of a servant's powers of divination.
+More than one parlour-maid had been dismissed for offensive neatness.
+
+She closed her eyes for a second. A faint line, as of pain, appeared
+between them. In this room Braden Thorpe had been coddled and scolded, in
+this room he had romped and studied--She opened her eyes quickly.
+
+"Murray," she said, in a low voice; "you are quite sure that Mr. Braden
+is--is out?"
+
+The old butler straightened up from his task, his hand going to his back
+as if to keep it from creaking. "Yes, Miss Tresslyn, quite sure." He
+hesitated for a moment. "I think he said that he intended to give himself
+the pleasure of a call--ahem! I beg pardon. Yes, he is quite out--I should
+say, I'm quite sure he is out." He was confused, a most unheard of thing
+in Murray.
+
+"But he will return--soon?" She took a step or two nearer the door,
+possessed of a sudden impulse to run,--to run swiftly away.
+
+"I think not, miss," said he. "He is not expected to be here during
+the--er--you might say, the--ahem!"
+
+"I'll have a look about the room," said Anne softly. She felt that she was
+going to like Murray. She wanted him to like her. The butler may have
+caught the queer little note in her voice, or he may have seen the hunted
+look in her eyes before she turned them away. At any rate, he poked the
+fire vigorously once more. It was his way of saying that she might depend
+upon him. Then he went out of the room, closing the door behind him.
+
+She started violently, and put her hand to her heart. She had the queer,
+uncanny feeling that she was locked in this sombre room, that she would
+never be free again.
+
+In a room upstairs, Mr. Templeton Thorpe was saying to Wade:
+
+"Is my grandson in his room?"
+
+"Yes, sir. He came in at four and has been waiting for you, as you
+directed, sir."
+
+"Tell him that I would like to see him at once in the library," said Mr.
+Thorpe.
+
+"Yes, sir," said Wade, and for the first time in years his patient smile
+assumed the proportions of a grin. He did not have to be told that Anne's
+presence in the house was not to be made known to Braden. All that he was
+expected to do was to inform the young man that his grandfather wanted to
+see him in the library,--at once.
+
+And so it came to pass that three minutes later, Braden and Anne were face
+to face with each other, and old Mr. Thorpe had redeemed his promise.
+
+Of the two, Braden was the more surprised. The girl's misgivings had
+prepared her for just such a crisis as this. Something told her the
+instant she set foot inside the house that she was to be tricked. In a
+flash she realised that Mr. Thorpe himself was responsible for the
+encounter she had dreaded. It was impossible to suspect Braden of being a
+party to the scheme. He was petrified. There could be no doubt that he had
+been tricked quite as cleverly as she.
+
+But what could have been in the old man's design? Was it a trap? Did he
+expect her to rush into Braden's arms? Was he lurking behind some near-by
+curtain to witness her surrender? Was he putting her to the test, or was
+it his grandson who was on trial?
+
+Here was the supreme crisis in the life of Anne Tresslyn: the turning
+point. Her whole being cried out against this crafty trick. One word now
+from Braden would have altered the whole course of her life. In eager
+silence she stood on the thin edge of circumstance, ready to fall as the
+wind blew strongest. She was in revolt. If this stupefied, white-faced
+young man had but called out to her: "Anne! Anne, my darling! Come!" she
+would have laughed in triumph over the outcome of the old man's test, and
+all the years of her life would have been filled with sweetness. She would
+have gone to him.
+
+But, alas, those were not the words that fell from his lips, and the fate
+of Anne Tresslyn was sealed as she stood there watching him with wide-
+spread eyes.
+
+"I prefer to see you in your own home," he said, a flush of anger
+spreading over his face; "not here in my grandfather's house."
+
+There was no mistaking his meaning. He thought she had come there to see
+him,--ay, conceivably had planned this very situation! She started. It was
+like a slap in the face. Then she breathed once more, and realised that
+she had not drawn a breath since he entered the room. Her life had been
+standing still, waiting till these few stupendous seconds were over. Now
+they were gone and she could take up life where it had left off. The
+tightness in her throat relaxed. The crisis was over, the turning point
+was behind her. He had failed her, and he would have to pay. He would have
+to pay with months, even years of waiting. For it had never occurred to
+Anne Tresslyn to doubt that he would come to her in good and proper time!
+
+She could not speak at once. Her response was not ready. She was
+collecting herself. Given the time, she would rise above the mischief that
+confounded her. To have uttered the words that hung unuttered on her lips
+would have glorified him and brought shame to her pride forever more. Five
+words trembled there awaiting deliverance and they were good and honest
+words--"Take me back, Braden darling!" They were never spoken. They were
+formed to answer a different call from him. She checked them in time.
+
+"I did not come here to see you," she said at last, standing very straight
+beside the table. He was just inside the door leading to the hall. "Whose
+trick is this,--yours or Mr. Thorpe's?"
+
+Enlightenment flashed into his eyes. "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "He said he
+would do it, and he has made good. This is his way of--" He broke off in
+the middle of the sentence. In an instant he had whirled about and the
+door was closed with a bang.
+
+She started forward, her hand pressed to her quick-beating heart, real
+fear in her eyes. What was in his mind? Was this insanity? She had read of
+men driven mad by disappointment who brutally set upon and killed--But he
+was facing her now, and she stopped short. His jaw was set but there was
+no insane light in the eyes that regarded her so steadily. Somehow--and
+suddenly--her composure was restored. She was not afraid of him. She was
+not afraid of the hands and arms that had caressed her so tenderly, nor
+was she afraid of the words that were to fall from the lips that had
+kissed hers so many times. He was merely going to plead with her, and she
+was well prepared for that.
+
+For weeks and weeks she had been preparing herself for this unhappy
+moment. She knew that the time would come when she would have to face him
+and defend herself. She would have to deny the man she loved. She would
+have to tell him that she was going for a higher price than he could pay.
+The time had come and she was ready. The weakness of the minute before had
+passed--passed with his failure to strike when, with all her heart and
+soul, she wanted him to strike.
+
+"You need not be frightened," he said, subduing his voice with an effort.
+"Let us take time to steady ourselves. We have a good deal to say to each
+other. Let's be careful not to waste words, now that we're face to face at
+last."
+
+"I am quite calm," she said, stock-still beside the table. "Why should I
+be frightened? I am the last person in the world that you would strike,
+Braden." She was that sure of him!
+
+"Strike? Good God, why should that have entered your head?"
+
+"One never knows," she said. "I was startled. I was afraid--at first. You
+implied a moment ago that I had arranged for this meeting. Surely you
+understand that I--"
+
+"My grandfather arranged it," he interrupted. "There's no use beating
+about the bush. I told him that I would not believe this thing of you
+unless I had it from your own lips. You would not see me. You were not
+permitted to see me. I told him that you were being forced into this
+horrible marriage, that your mother was afraid to let me have a single
+word with you. He laughed at me. He said that you were going into it with
+your eyes open, that you were obeying your mother willingly, that you--"
+
+"Pardon me," she interrupted coldly. "Is your grandfather secreted
+somewhere near so that he may be able to enjoy the--"
+
+"I don't know, and I don't care. Let him hear if he wants to. Why should
+either of us care? He knows all there is to know about you and he
+certainly appreciates my position. We may as well speak freely. It will
+not make the slightest difference, one way or the other, so far as he is
+concerned. He knows perfectly well that you are not marrying him for love,
+or respect, or even position. So let's speak plainly. I say that he
+arranged this meeting between us. He brought you here, and he sent
+upstairs for me to join him in this room. Well, you see he isn't here. We
+are quite alone. He is fair to both of us. He is giving me my chance and
+he is giving you yours. It only remains for us to settle the matter here
+and now. I know all of the details of this disgusting compact. I know that
+you are to have two million dollars settled upon you the day you are
+married--oh, I know the whole of it! Now, there's just one thing to be
+settled between you and me: are you going ahead with it or are you going
+to be an honest woman and marry the man you love?"
+
+He did not leave her much to stand upon. She had expected him to go about
+it in an entirely different way. She had counted upon an impassioned plea
+for himself, not this terse, cold-blooded, almost unemotional summing up
+of the situation. For an instant she was at a loss. It was hard to look
+into his honest eyes. A queer, unformed doubt began to torment her, a
+doubt that grew into a question later on: was he still in love with her?
+
+"And what if I do not care to discuss my private affairs with you?" she
+said, playing for time.
+
+"Don't fence, Anne," he said sternly. "Answer the question. Wait. I'll put
+it in another form, and I want the truth. If you say to me that your
+mother is deliberately forcing you into this marriage I'll believe you,
+and I'll--I'll fight for you till I get you. I will not stand by and see
+you sacrificed, even though you may appear to--"
+
+"Stop, please. If you mean to ask _that_ question, I'll answer it in
+advance. It is I, not my mother, who expects to marry Mr. Thorpe, and I am
+quite old enough and wise enough to know my own mind. So you need not put
+the question."
+
+He drew nearer. The table separated them as they looked squarely into each
+other's eyes through the fire-lit space that lay between.
+
+"Anne, Anne!" he cried hoarsely. "You must not, you shall not do this
+unspeakable thing! For God's sake, girl, if you have an atom of self-
+respect, the slightest--"
+
+"Don't begin that, Braden!" she cut in, ominously. "I cannot permit you or
+any man to _say_ such things to me, no matter what you may think. Bear
+that in mind."
+
+"Don't you mind what I think about it, Anne?" he cried, his voice
+breaking.
+
+"See here, Braden," she said, in an abrupt, matter-of-fact manner, "it
+isn't going to do the least bit of good to argue the point. I am pledged
+to marry Mr. Thorpe and I shall do so if I live till the twenty-third of
+next month. Provided, of course, that he lives till that day himself. I
+have gone into it with my eyes open, as he says, and I am satisfied with
+my bargain. I suppose you will hate me to the end of your days. But if you
+think that I expect to hate myself, you are very much mistaken. Look! Do
+you see these pearls? They were not included in the bargain, and I could
+have gone on very well without them to the end of my term as the mistress
+of this house, but I accepted them from my fiance to-day in precisely the
+same spirit in which they were given: as alms to the undeserving. Your
+grandfather did not want me to marry you. He is merely paying me to keep
+my hands _off_. That's the long and the short of it. I am not in the least
+deceived. You will say that I could--and should have told him to go to the
+devil. Well, I'm sorry to have to tell you that I couldn't see my way
+clear to doing that. I hope he _is_ listening behind the curtains. We
+drove a hard bargain. He thought he could get off with a million. You must
+remember that he had deliberately disinherited you,--that much I know. His
+will is made. It will not be altered. You will be a poor man as wealth is
+reckoned in these days. But you will be a great man. You will be famous,
+distinguished, honoured. That is what he intends. He set out to sacrifice
+me in order that you might be spared. You were not to have a millstone
+about your neck in the shape of a selfish, unsacrificing wife. What rot!
+From the bottom of my heart, Braden,--if you will grant me a heart,--I hope
+and pray that you may go to the head of your profession, that you may be a
+great and good man. I do not ask you to believe me when I say that I love
+you, and always--"
+
+"For God's sake, don't ask me to believe it! Don't add to the degradation
+you are piling up for yourself. Spare yourself that miserable confession.
+It is quite unnecessary to lie to me, Anne."
+
+"Lie? I am telling you the truth, Braden. I do love you. I can't help
+that, can I? You do not for an instant suspect that I love this doddering
+old man, do you? Well, I must love some one. That's natural, isn't it?
+Then, why shouldn't it be you? Oh, laugh if you will! It doesn't hurt me
+in the least. Curse me, if you like. I've made up my mind to go on with
+this business of marrying. We've had one unsuccessful marriage in our
+family of late. Love was at the bottom of it. You know how it has turned
+out, Braden. It--"
+
+"I believe I know how it might have turned out if they had been left to
+themselves," said he bluntly.
+
+"She would have been a millstone, nevertheless," she argued.
+
+"I don't agree with you. George found his level in that little nobody, as
+you all have called her. Poor little thing, she was not so lucky as I. She
+did not have her eyes opened in time. She had no chance to escape. But
+we're not here to talk about Lutie Carnahan. I have told my grandfather
+that I intend to break this thing off if it is in my power to do so. I
+shall not give up until I know that you are actually married. It is a
+crime that must not--"
+
+"How do you purpose breaking it off?" she inquired shrilly. Visions of a
+strong figure rising in the middle of the ceremony to cry out against the
+final words flashed into her mind. Would she have that to look forward to
+and dread?
+
+"I shall go on appealing to your honour, your decency, your self-respect,
+if not to the love you say you bear for me."
+
+She breathed easier. "And will you confine your appeals to me?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I thought you might take it into your head to appeal to Mr. Thorpe's
+honour, decency, self-respect and love for you," she said, sullenly. "He
+is quite as guilty as I, remember."
+
+"He has quite a different object in view. He seems to feel that he is
+doing me a good turn, not an evil one."
+
+"Bosh!" She was angry. "And what will be your attitude toward me if you
+_do_ succeed in preventing the marriage? Will you take me back as I was
+before this thing came up? Will you make me your wife, just as if nothing
+had happened? In view of my deliberate intention to deny you, will you
+forget everything and take me back?"
+
+He put his hand to his throat, and for a moment appeared to be struggling
+against himself. "I will take you back, Anne, as if nothing had happened,
+if you will say to me here and now that you will marry me to-morrow."
+
+She stared at him, incredulous. Her heart began to beat rapidly once more
+and the anger died away. "You would do that, knowing me to be what I am?"
+
+"Knowing you to be what you _were_," he amended eagerly. "Oh, Anne, you
+are worth loving, you are pure of heart and--"
+
+"If I will marry you to-morrow?" she went on, watching his face closely.
+
+"Yes. But you must say it now--this instant. I will not grant you a
+moment's respite. If you do not say the word now, your chance is gone
+forever. It has to be now, Anne."
+
+"And if I refuse--what then?"
+
+"I would not marry you if you were the only woman on earth," he said
+flatly.
+
+She smiled. "Are you sure that you love me, Braden?"
+
+"I will love you when you become what you were,--a month ago," he said
+simply. "A girl worth the honour of being loved," he added.
+
+"Men sometimes love those who are not worth the honour," she said, feeling
+her way. "They cannot help themselves."
+
+"Will you say the word _now_?" he demanded hoarsely.
+
+She sighed. It was a sigh of relief,--perhaps of triumph. He was safe for
+all time. He would come to her in the end. She was on solid ground once
+more.
+
+"I am afraid, Braden, that I cannot play fast and loose with a man as old
+as Mr. Thorpe," she said lightly.
+
+He muttered an oath. "Don't be a fool! What do you call your treatment of
+me? Fast and loose! Good Lord, haven't you played fast and loose with me?"
+
+"Ah, but you are young and enduring," she said. "You will get over it. He
+wouldn't have the time or strength to recover from the shock of--"
+
+"Oh, for God's sake, don't talk like that! What do you call yourself?
+What--" He checked the angry words and after a moment went on, more
+quietly: "Now, see here, Anne, I'm through parleying with you. I shall go
+on trying to prevent this marriage, but succeed or fail, I don't want to
+see your face again as long as I live. I'm through with you. You _are_
+like your mother. You are a damned vampire. God, how I have loved and
+trusted you, how I have believed in you. I did not believe that the woman
+lived who could degrade herself as you are about to degrade yourself. I
+have had my eyes opened. All my life I have loved you without even knowing
+you. All my life I--"
+
+"All my life I have loved you," she broke in cringingly.
+
+He laughed aloud. "The hell you have!" he cried out. "You have allowed me
+to hold you in my arms, to kiss you, to fondle you, and you have trembled
+with joy and passion,--and now you call it love! Love! You have never loved
+in your life and you never will. You call self-gratification by the name
+of love. Thank God, I know you at last. I ought to pity you. In all
+humanity I ought to pity a fellow creature so devoid of--"
+
+"Stop!" she cried, her face flaming red. "Go! Go away! You have said
+enough. I will hate you if you utter another word, and I don't want to
+hate you, Braden. I want to go on loving you all my life. I _must_ go on
+loving you."
+
+"You have my consent," he said, ironically, bowing low before her.
+"Humanity compels me to grant you all the consolation you can find in
+deceiving yourself."
+
+"Wait!" she cried out, as he turned toward the door. "I--I am hurt, Braden.
+Can't you see how you have hurt me? Won't you--"
+
+"Of course, you are hurt!" he shouted. "You squeal when you are hurt. You
+think only of yourself when you cry 'I am hurt'! Don't you ever think of
+any one else?" His hand grasped the big silver door-knob.
+
+"I want you to understand, if you can, why I am doing this thing you
+revile me for."
+
+"I understand," he said curtly.
+
+She hurried her words, fearful that he might rush from the room before she
+could utter the belated explanation.
+
+"I don't want to be poor. I don't want to go through life as my mother has
+gone, always fighting for the things she most desired, always being behind
+the game she was forced to play. You can't understand,--you are too big and
+fine,--you cannot understand the little things, Braden. I want love and
+happiness, but I want the other, too. Don't you see that with all this
+money at my command I can be independent, I can be safe for all time, I
+can give more than myself in return for the love that I must have? Don't
+you understand why--"
+
+She was quite close to him when he interrupted the impassioned appeal. His
+hand shook as he held it up to check her approach.
+
+"It's all over, Anne. There is nothing more to be said. I understand
+everything now. May God forgive you," he said huskily.
+
+She stopped short. Her head went up and defiance shone in her face.
+
+"I'd rather have your forgiveness than God's," she said distinctly, "and
+since I may not ask for it now, I will wait for it, my friend. We love
+each other. Time mends a good many breaks. Good-bye! Some day I hope
+you'll come to see your poor old granny, and bring--"
+
+"Oh, for the love of heaven, have a little decency, Anne," he cried, his
+lip curling.
+
+But her pride was roused, it was in revolt against all of the finer
+instincts that struggled for expression.
+
+"You'd better go now. Run upstairs and tell your grandfather that his
+scheme worked perfectly. Tell him everything I have said. He will not
+mind. I am sorry you will not remain to see the contract signed. I should
+like to have you for a witness. If you--"
+
+"Contract? What contract?"
+
+"Oh," she said lightly, "just a little agreement on his part to make life
+endurable for me while he continues to live. We are to sign the paper at
+five o'clock. Yes, you'd better run along, Braden, or you'll find yourself
+the centre of a perplexed crowd. Before you go, please take a last look at
+me in my sepulchre. Here I stand! Am I not fair to look upon?"
+
+"God, I'd sooner see you in your grave than here," he grated out. "You'd
+be better off, a thousand times."
+
+"This is my grave," she said, "or will be soon. I suppose I am not to
+count you among the mourners?"
+
+He slammed the door behind him, and she was alone.
+
+"How I hate people who slam doors," she said to herself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+A fortnight passed. Preparations for the wedding went on in the Tresslyn
+home with little or no slackening of the tension that had settled upon the
+inmates with the advent of the disturber. Anne was now sullenly determined
+that nothing should intervene to prevent the marriage, unless an unkind
+Providence ordered the death of Templeton Thorpe. She was bitter toward
+Braden. Down in her soul, she knew that he was justified in the stand he
+had taken, and in that knowledge lay the secret of her revolt against one
+of the commands of Nature. He had treated her with the scorn that she knew
+she deserved; he had pronounced judgment upon her, and she confessed to
+herself that she was guilty as charged. That was the worst of it; she
+could pronounce herself guilty, and yet resent the justice of her own
+decision.
+
+In her desperation, she tried to hold old Mr. Thorpe responsible for the
+fresh canker that gnawed at her soul. But for that encounter in his
+library, she might have proceeded with confidence instead of the
+uneasiness that now attended her every step. She could not free herself of
+the fear that Braden might after all succeed in his efforts to persuade
+the old man to change his mind. True, the contract was signed, but
+contracts are not always sacred. They are made to be broken. Moreover, by
+no stretch of the imagination could this contract be looked upon as sacred
+and it certainly would not look pretty if exposed to a court of law. Her
+sole thought now was to have it all safely over with. Then perhaps she
+could smile once more.
+
+In the home of the bridegroom, preparations for the event were scant and
+of a perfunctory nature. Mr. Templeton Thorpe ordered a new suit of
+clothes for himself--or, to be quite precise, he instructed Wade to order
+it. He was in need of a new suit anyway, he said, and he had put off
+ordering it for a long, long time, not because he was parsimonious but
+because he did not like going up town for the "try-on." He also had a new
+silk hat made from his special block, and he would doubtless be compelled
+to have his hair trimmed up a bit about the nineteenth or twentieth, if
+the weather turned a trifle warmer. Of course, there would be the trip to
+City Hall with Anne, for the licence. He would have to attend to that in
+person. That was one thing that Wade couldn't do for him. Wade bought the
+wedding-ring and saw to the engraving; he attended to the buying of a gift
+for the best man,--who under one of the phases of an all-enveloping irony
+was to be George Dexter Tresslyn!--and in the same expedition to the
+jewellers' purchased for himself a watch-fob as a self-selected gift from
+a master who had never given him anything in all his years of service
+except his monthly wage and a daily malediction.
+
+Braden Thorpe made the supreme effort to save his grandfather. Believing
+himself to be completely cured of his desire for Anne, he took the stand
+that there was no longer a necessity for the old gentleman to sacrifice
+himself to the greed of the Tresslyns. But Mr. Thorpe refused to listen to
+this new and apparently unprejudiced argument. He was firm in his
+determination to clip Anne's claws; he would take no chances with youth,
+ultimate propinquity, and the wiles of a repentant sinner.
+
+"You can guard against anything," said he in his wisdom, "except the
+beautiful woman who repents. You never can tell what she'll do to make her
+repentance satisfactory to everybody concerned. So we'll take no chances
+with Anne. We'll put her in irons, my boy, so to speak."
+
+And so it was that Braden, worn and disspirited, gave up in despair and
+prepared for his return to London. He went before an examining board in
+New York first and obtained his licence to become a practising physician
+and surgeon, and, with a set expression in his disillusioned eyes, peered
+out into the future in quest of the fame that was to take the place of a
+young girl's love.
+
+He met his first patient in the Knickerbocker Cafe. Lunching alone there
+one day, a week before the date selected for sailing, he was accosted by
+an extremely gay and pretty young woman who came over from a table of four
+in a distant corner of the room.
+
+"Is this Dr. Braden Thorpe?" she inquired, placing her hands on the back
+of the chair opposite and leaning forward with a most agreeable, even
+inviting smile.
+
+Her face was familiar. "Since day before yesterday," he replied, rising
+with a self-conscious flush.
+
+"May I sit down? I want to talk to you about myself." She sat down in the
+chair that an alert waiter pulled out for her.
+
+"I am afraid you are labouring under a misapprehension," he said. "I--I am
+not what you would call a practising physician as yet."
+
+"Aren't you looking for patients?" she inquired. "Sit down, please."
+
+"I haven't even an office, so why should I feel that I am entitled to a
+patient?" he said. "You see, I've just got my licence to practice. As
+things go, I shouldn't have a client for at least two years. Are you
+looking for a doctor?"
+
+"I saw by the papers this morning that the grandson of Mr. Templeton
+Thorpe was a regular doctor. One of my friends over there pointed you out
+to me. What is your fee for an appendicitis operation, Dr. Thorpe?"
+
+"Good--ahem! I beg your pardon. You really startled me. I--"
+
+"Oh, that's all right. I quite understand. Hard to grasp at first, isn't
+it? Well, I've got to have my appendix out sooner or later. It's been
+bothering me for a year, off and on. Everybody tells me I ought to have it
+out sometime when it isn't bothering me and--"
+
+"But, my dear young lady, I'm not the man you want. You ought to go to
+some--"
+
+"You'll do just as well as any one, I'm sure. It's no trick to take out an
+appendix in these days. The fewer a doctor has snipped off, the less he
+charges, don't you know. So why shouldn't I, being quite poor, take
+advantage of your ignorance? The most intelligent surgeon in New York
+couldn't do any more than to snip it off, now could he? And he wouldn't be
+one-tenth as ignorant as you are about prices."
+
+She was so gay and naive about it that he curbed his amazement, and, to
+some extent, his embarrassment.
+
+"I suppose that it is also ignorance on my part that supplies me with
+office hours in a public restaurant from one to three o'clock," he said,
+with a very unprofessional grin.
+
+"What hospital do you work in?" she demanded, in a business-like tone.
+
+Humouring her, he mentioned one of the big hospitals in which he had
+served as an interne.
+
+"That suits me," she said. "Can you do it to-morrow?"
+
+"For heaven's sake, madam, I--are you in earnest?"
+
+"Absolutely. I want to have it done right away. You see, I do a good deal
+of dancing, and--now, listen!" She leaned farther across the table, a
+serious little line appearing between her brows. "I want you to do it
+because I've always heard that you are one of the most earnest, capable
+and ambitious young men in the business. I'd sooner trust you than any one
+else, Dr. Thorpe. It has to be done by some one, so if I'm willing to take
+a chance with you, why shouldn't you take one with me?"
+
+"I have been in Europe for nearly three years. How could you possibly have
+heard all this about me?"
+
+"See that fellow over there facing us? The funny little chap with the baby
+moustache? He--"
+
+"Why, it's Simmy Dodge," cried Braden. "Are--are you--"
+
+"Just a friend, that's all. He's one of the finest chaps in New York. He's
+a gentleman. That's Mr. and Mrs. Rumsey Fenn,--the other two, I mean. You
+can't see them for the florist shop in between. They know you too, so--"
+
+"May I inquire why one of my friends did not bring you over and introduce
+me to you, Miss--er--"
+
+"Miss, in a sort of way, Doctor, but still a Missus," she said amiably.
+"Well, I told them that I knew you quite well and I wouldn't let them come
+over. It's all right, though. We'll be partially related to each other by
+marriage before long, I understand; so it's all right. You see, I am Mrs.
+George Dexter Tresslyn."
+
+"You--you are?" he gasped. "By Jove, I thought that your face was familiar.
+I--"
+
+"One of the best advertised faces in New York about two years ago," she
+said, and he detected a plaintive note in the flippant remark. "Not so
+well-known nowadays, thank God. See here, Dr. Thorpe, I hope you won't
+think it out of place for me _to_ congratulate you."
+
+"Congratulate me? My dear Mrs. Tresslyn, it is not I who am to be married.
+You confuse me with--"
+
+"I'm congratulating you because you're not the one," said she, her eyes
+narrowing. "Bless your soul, I know what I'm talking about. But say no
+more. Let's get back to the appendix. Will you do the job for me?"
+
+"Now that we are acquainted with each other," he said, suppressing a
+natural excitement, "may we not go over and join Simmy and the Fenns?
+Don't you think you'd better consult with them before irrevocably
+committing yourself to me?"
+
+"Fine! We'll talk it over together, the whole lot of us. But, I say, don't
+forget that I've known you for years--through the family, of course. I want
+to thank you first for one thing, Dr. Thorpe. George used to tell me how
+you took my part in the--the smash-up. He said you wrote to him from Europe
+to be a man and stand by me in spite of everything. That's really what
+I've been wanting to say to you, more than the other. Still, I've got to
+have it out, so come on. Let's set a day. Mrs. Fenn will go up to the
+hospital with me. She's used to hospitals. Says she loves them. She's
+trying her best to have Mr. Fenn go in next week to have his out. She's
+had five operations and a baby. I'm awfully glad to know you, Dr. Thorpe.
+I've always wanted to. I'd like better than anything I know of to be your
+first regular patient. It will always be something to boast about in years
+to come. It will be splendid to say to people, 'Oh, yes, I am the first
+person that ever had her appendix removed by the celebrated Dr. Thorpe.'
+It will--"
+
+"But I have removed a great many," he said, carried away by her sprightly
+good humour. "In my training days, so to speak."
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," she cried, disappointed. Then her face
+brightened: "Still, I suppose you had to learn just where the thing is. It
+wouldn't do to go about stabbing people in the wrong place, just as if the
+appendix might be any little old where, would it?"
+
+"I should say not," said he, arising and bowing very profoundly. Then he
+followed close behind her trim, smart figure as they threaded their way
+among the tables.
+
+So this was the "pretty little mustard girl" that all fashionable New York
+had talked about in the past and was dancing with in the present. This was
+the girl who refused to go to the dogs at the earnest behest of the
+redoubtable Mrs. Tresslyn. Somehow he felt that Fate had provided him with
+an unexpected pal!
+
+And, to his utter astonishment, he was prevailed upon to perform the
+operation! The Fenns and Simeon Dodge decided the matter for him.
+
+"I shall have to give up sailing next week," he said, as pleased as Punch
+but contriving to project a wry face. "I can't go away and leave my first
+bona-fide patient until she is entirely out of the woods."
+
+"I have engagements for to-morrow and Wednesday," said Mrs. Rumsey Fenn,
+after reflection. She was a rather pallid woman of thirty-five who might
+have been accused of being bored with life if she had not made so many
+successful efforts to prolong it.
+
+"It doesn't happen to be your appendix, my dear," said her husband.
+
+"Goodness, I wish it were," said she, regretfully. "What I mean is that I
+can't go to the hospital with Lutie before,--let me see,--before Thursday.
+Can you wait that long, dear?"
+
+"Ask Dr. Thorpe," said young Mrs. Tresslyn. "He is my doctor, you know."
+
+"Of course, you all understand that I cannot go ahead and perform an
+operation without first determining--"
+
+"Don't you worry," said the patient. "My physician has been after me for a
+year to have it out. He'll back me up. I'll telephone him as soon as I get
+back home, and I'll have him call you up, Dr. Thorpe. Thanks ever so much.
+And, before I forget it, what is the fee to be? You see, I pay my own
+bills, so I've got to know the--the worst."
+
+"My fee will be even more reasonable than you hope, Mrs. Tresslyn," said
+Braden, smiling. "Just guess at the amount you'd feel able to pay and then
+divide it by two, and you'll have it."
+
+"Dear me," cried Mrs. Fenn, "how perfectly satisfactory! Rumsey, you
+_must_ have yours out this week. You're always talking about not being
+able to afford things, and here's a chance to save money in a way you
+never would have suspected."
+
+"Good Lord, Madge," exclaimed her husband, "I've never had a pain in my
+life. I wish you wouldn't keep nagging at me all the time to have an
+operation performed, whether I need it or not. Let my appendix alone. It's
+always treated me with extreme loyalty and respect, so why the deuce
+should I turn upon the poor thing and assassinate it?"
+
+"See here, Rumsey," said Simmy Dodge sagely, "if I were in your place I'd
+have a perfectly sound tooth pulled some time, just to keep it from aching
+when you're an old man. Or you might have your left leg amputated so that
+it couldn't be crushed in a railroad accident. You ought to do something
+to please Madge, old chap. She's been a thoughtful, devoted wife to you
+for twelve or thirteen years, and what have you ever done to please her?
+Nothing! You've never so much as had a crick in your neck or a pain that
+you couldn't account for, so do be generous, Rumsey. Besides, maybe you
+haven't got an appendix at all. Just think how you could crow over her if
+they couldn't find one, even after the most careful and relentless search
+over your entire system."
+
+"She's always wanting me to die or something like that," growled Fenn;
+"but when I talked of going to the Spanish War she went into hysterics."
+
+"We'd only been married a month, Rumsey," said his wife reproachfully.
+
+"But how could I have known that war was to be declared so soon?" he
+demanded.
+
+Braden and Simeon Dodge left the restaurant together. They were old
+friends, college-mates, and of the same age. Dodge had gone into the law-
+school after his academic course, and Thorpe into the medical college.
+Their ways did not part, however. Both were looked upon as heirs to huge
+fortunes, and to both was offered the rather doubtful popularity that
+usually is granted to affluence. Thorpe accepted his share with the
+caution of the wise man, while Dodge, not a whit less capable, took his as
+a philanderer. He now had an office in a big down-town building, but he
+never went near it except when his partner took it into his head to go
+away for a month's vacation at the slack season of the year. At such
+periods Mr. Dodge, being ages younger than the junior member of the firm,
+made it his practice to go down to the office and attend to the business
+with an earnestness that surprised every one. He gave over frolicking and
+stuck resolutely to the "knitting" that Johnson had left behind. Possessed
+of a natural though thrifty intelligence,--one that wasted little in
+public,--and a latent energy that could lift him occasionally above a
+perfectly normal laziness, he made as much of his opportunities as one
+could expect of a young man who has two hundred thousand a year and an
+amiable disposition.
+
+No one in the city was more popular than Simmy Dodge, and no one more
+deservedly so, for his bad qualities were never so bad that one need
+hesitate about calling him a good fellow. His habits were easy but
+genteel. When intoxicated he never smashed things, and when sober,--which
+was his common condition,--he took extremely good care of other people's
+reputations. Women liked him, which should not be surprising; and men
+liked him because he was not to be spoiled by the women who liked him,
+which is saying a great deal for an indolent young man with money. He had
+a smile that always appeared at its best in the morning, and survived the
+day with amazing endurance. And that also is saying a great deal for a
+young man who is favoured by both sexes and a _supposedly_ neutral Dame
+Fortune at the same time. He had broken many of the laws of man and some
+of those imposed by God, but he always paid without apology. He was
+inevitably pardoned by man and paroled by his Maker,--which is as much as
+to say that he led a pretty decent sort of existence and enjoyed
+exceedingly good health.
+
+He really wasn't much to look at. Being a trifle under medium height,
+weighing less than one hundred and twenty pounds stripped, as wiry as a
+cat and as indefatigable as a Scotch terrier, and with an abnormally large
+pair of ears that stood out like oyster shells from the sides of a round,
+sleek head, he made no pretentions to physical splendour,--unless, by
+chance, you would call the perky little straw-coloured moustache that
+adorned his long upper lip a tribute to vanity. His eyes were blue and
+merry and set wide apart under a bulging, intellectual looking forehead,
+and his teeth were large and as white as snow. When he laughed the world
+laughed with him, and when he tried to appear downcast the laughter went
+on just the same, for then he was more amusing than ever.
+
+"I didn't know you were a friend of hers," said he as they stood in front
+of the hotel waiting for the taxi that was to take Thorpe to a hospital.
+
+Thorpe remembered the admonition. "I tried to put a little back-bone into
+George Tresslyn at the time of the rumpus, if that's what you'd call being
+a friend to her," he said evasively.
+
+"She's a nice little girl," said Simmy, "and she's been darned badly
+treated. Mrs. Tresslyn has never gotten over the fact that Lutie made her
+pay handsomely to get the noble Georgie back into the smart set. Plucky
+little beggar, too. Lot of people like the Fenns and the Roush girls have
+taken her up, primarily, I suppose, because the Tresslyns threw her down.
+She's making good with them, too, after a fashion all her own. Must be
+something fine in a girl like that, Brady,--I mean something worth while.
+Straight as a string, and a long way from being a disgrace to the name of
+Tresslyn. Quaint, isn't she?"
+
+"Amazingly so. I think George would marry her all over again if she'd have
+him, mother or no mother."
+
+"Well, she's quaint in another respect," said Dodge. "She still considers
+herself to be George Tresslyn's wife."
+
+"Religion?"
+
+"Not a bit of it. She just says she is, that's all, and what God joined
+together no woman can put asunder. She means Mrs. Tresslyn, of course. By
+the way, Brady, I wonder if I'm still enough of a pal to be allowed to say
+something to you." The blue eyes were serious and there was a sort of
+caressing note in his voice.
+
+"We've always been pals, Simmy."
+
+"Well, it's just this: I'm darned sorry things have turned out as they
+have for you. It's a rotten shame. Why don't you choke that old
+grandparent of yours? Put him out of his misery. Anne has told me of your
+diabolical designs upon the hopelessly afflicted. She used to talk about
+it for hours while you were in London,--and I had to listen with shivers
+running up and down my back all the time. Nobody on earth could blame you
+for putting the quietus on old Templeton Thorpe. He is about as hopelessly
+afflicted as any one I know,--begging your pardon for treading on the
+family toes."
+
+"He's quite sane, Simmy," said Braden, with a smile that was meant to be
+pleasant but fell short of the mark.
+
+"He's an infernal old traitor, then," said Simmy hotly. "I wouldn't treat
+a dog as he has treated you,--no kind of a dog, mind you. Not even a
+Pekinese, and I hate 'em worse than snakes. What the devil does Anne mean?
+Lordy, Lordy, man, she's always been in love with you. She--but, forgive
+me, old chap, I oughtn't to run on like this. I didn't mean to open a
+sore--"
+
+"It's all right, Simmy. I understand. Thanks, old boy. It was a pretty
+stiff blow, but--well, I'm still on my pins, as you see."
+
+Dodge was hanging onto the door of the taxi, impeding his friend's
+departure. "She's too fine a girl to be doing a rotten thing like this. I
+don't mind telling you I've always been in--er--that is, I've always had a
+tender spot for Anne. I suppose you know that?"
+
+"I know that, Simmy."
+
+"Hang it all, I never dreamed that she'd look at any one else but you, so
+I never even peeped a word to her about my own feelings. And here she
+goes, throwing you over like a shot, and spilling everything. Confound it,
+man, if I'd thought she could possibly want to marry anybody else but you,
+I'd have had my try. The good Lord knows I'm not much, but by thunder, I'm
+not decrepit. I--I suppose it was the money, eh?"
+
+"That's for you to say, Simmy; certainly not for me."
+
+"If it's money she's after and not an Adonis, I don't see why the deuce
+she didn't advertise. I would have answered in a minute. I can't help
+saying it, old man, but I feel sorry for Anne, 'pon my soul, I do. I don't
+think she's doing this of her own free will. See what her mother did to
+George and that little girl in there? I tell you there's something nasty
+and--"
+
+"I may as well tell you that Anne _is_ doing this thing of her own free
+will," said Braden gravely.
+
+"I don't believe it," said Dodge.
+
+"At any rate, Simmy, I'm grateful to you for standing clear while there
+was still a chance for me. So long! I must be getting up to the hospital,
+and then around to see her doctor."
+
+"So long, Brady. See you on Thursday." He meant, good soul, that he would
+be at the hospital on that day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+An hour later, Mr. Simeon Dodge appeared at the home of Anne Tresslyn. In
+place of his usual care-free manner there now rested upon him an air of
+extreme gravity. This late afternoon visit was the result of an
+inspiration. After leaving Thorpe he found himself deeply buried in
+reflection which amounted almost to abstraction. He was disturbed by the
+persistency of the thoughts that nagged at him, no matter whither his
+aimless footsteps carried him. For the life of him, he could not put from
+his mind the conviction that Anne Tresslyn was not responsible for her
+actions.
+
+He was convinced that she had been bullied, cowed, coerced, or whatever
+you like, into this atrocious marriage, and, of course, there could be no
+one to blame but her soulless mother. The girl ought to be saved. (These
+are Simmy's thoughts.) She was being sacrificed to the greed of an
+unnatural mother. Admitting, for the sake of argument, that she was no
+longer in love with Braden Thorpe, there still remained the positive
+conviction that she could not be in love with any one else, and certainly
+not with that treacherous old man in Washington Square. That, of course,
+was utterly impossible, so there was but the one alternative: she was
+being forced into a marriage that would bring the most money into the
+hands of the designing and, to him, clearly unnatural parent.
+
+He knew nothing of the ante-nuptial settlement, nor was he aware of the
+old man's quixotic design in coming between Braden and the girl he loved.
+To Simmy it was nothing short of brigandage, a sort of moral outlawry. Old
+Templeton Thorpe deserved a coat of tar and feathers, and there was no
+word for the punishment that ought to be meted out to Mrs. Tresslyn. He
+tried to think of what ought to be done to her, and, getting as far as
+boiling oil, gave up in despair, for even that was too much like
+compassion.
+
+Money! The whole beastly business was money! He thought of his own
+unestimated wealth. Nothing but money,--horrible, insensate, devastating
+money! He shuddered as he thought of what his money was likely to bring to
+him in the end: a loveless wife; avarice in place of respect; misery
+instead of joy; destruction! How was he ever to know whether a girl was
+marrying him for himself or for the right to lay hands upon the money his
+father had left to him when he died? How can any rich man know what he is
+getting into when he permits a girl to come into his home? To burglarise
+it with the sanction of State and Church, perhaps, and to escape with the
+connivance of both after she's got all she wants. That's where the poor
+man has an advantage over the unprotected rich: he is never confronted by
+a problem like this. He doesn't have to stop and wonder why the woman
+marries him. He knows it's love, or stupidity, or morality, but it is
+never duplicity.
+
+Before he got through with it, Simmy had worked himself into a state of
+desperation. Regarding himself with unprejudiced eyes he saw that he was
+not the sort of man a girl would choose for a husband unless he had
+something besides a happy, loving disposition to offer. She would marry
+him for his money, of course; certainly he would be the last to suspect
+her of marrying him for his beauty. He had never thought of it in this
+light before, and he was wet with the sweat of anguish. He could never be
+sure! He could love a woman with all his heart and soul, and still never
+be sure of her! Were all the girls he had loved in his college days--But
+here he stopped. It was too terrible to even contemplate, this unmerited
+popularity of his! If only one of them had been honest enough to make fun
+of his ears, or to snicker when he became impassioned, or to smile
+contemptuously from her superior height when he asked her to dance,--if
+only one of them had turned her back upon him, then he would have grasped
+the unwelcome truth about himself. But, now that he thought of it, not one
+of them had ever turned a deaf ear to his cajoleries, not one had failed
+to respond to his blandishments, not one had been sincere enough to frown
+upon him when he tried to be witty. And that brought him to another
+sickening standstill: was he as bright and clever and witty as people made
+him out to be? Wasn't he a dreadful bore, a blithering ass, after all? He
+felt himself turning cold to the marrow as he thought of the real value
+that people placed upon him. He even tried to recall a single thing that
+he had ever said that he could now, in sober judgment, regard as bright or
+even fairly clever. He couldn't, so then, after all, it was quite clear
+that he was tolerated because he had nothing but money.
+
+Just as he was about to retire from his club where he had gone for solace,
+an inspiration was born. It sent him forthwith to Anne Tresslyn's home,
+dogged, determined and manfully disillusioned.
+
+"Miss Tresslyn is very busy, Mr. Dodge," said Rawson, "but she says she
+will see you, sir, if you will wait a few moments."
+
+"I'll wait," said Simmy, and sat down.
+
+He had come to the remarkable conclusion that as long as some one had to
+marry him for his money it might as well be Anne. He was fond of her and
+he could at least spare her the ignominy and horror of being wedded to old
+Templeton Thorpe. With his friend Braden admittedly out of the running,
+there was no just cause why he should not at least have a try at saving
+Anne. She might jump at the chance. He was already blaming himself for not
+having recognised her peril, her dire necessity, long before this. And
+since he had reached the dismal conclusion that no one could possibly love
+him, it would be the sensible thing on his part to at least marry some one
+whom he loved, thereby securing, in a way, half of a bargain when he might
+otherwise have to put up with nothing at all. At any rate, he would be
+doing Anne a good turn by marrying her, and it was reasonably certain that
+she would not bring him any more unhappiness than any other woman who
+might accept him.
+
+As he sat there waiting for her he began to classify his financial
+holdings, putting certain railroads and industrials into class one, others
+into class two, and so on to the best of his ability to recollect what
+really comprised his fortune. It was rather a hopeless task, for to save
+his life he could not remember whether he had Lake Shore stock or West
+Shore stock, and he did not know what Standard Oil was selling at, nor any
+of the bank stocks except the Fifth Avenue, which seldom went below forty-
+five hundred. There might be a very awkward situation, too, if he couldn't
+justify his proposal with facts instead of conjectures. Suppose that she
+came out point blank and asked him what he was worth: what could he say?
+But then, of course, she wouldn't have to ask such a question. If she
+considered it possible to marry him, she would _know_ how much he was
+worth without inquiring. As a matter of fact, she probably knew to a
+dollar, and that was a great deal more than he knew.
+
+Half an hour passed before she came down. She was wearing her hat and was
+buttoning her gloves as she came hurriedly into the room. Simmy had a
+startling impression that he had seen a great many women putting on their
+gloves as they came into rooms where he was waiting. The significance of
+this extraordinary custom had never struck him with full force before. In
+the gloom of his present appraisal of himself, he now realised with
+shocking distinctness that the women he called upon were always on the
+point of going somewhere else.
+
+"Hello, Simmy," cried Anne gaily. He had never seen her looking more
+beautiful. There was real colour in her smooth cheeks and the sparkle of
+enthusiasm in her big, dark eyes.
+
+He shook hands with her. "Hello," he said.
+
+"I can spare you just twenty minutes, Simmy," she said, peering at the
+little French clock on the mantelpiece with the frankest sort of
+calculation. "Going to the dressmaker's at five, you know. It's a great
+business, this getting married, Simmy. You ought to try it."
+
+"I know I ought," said he, pulling a chair up close to hers. "That's what
+I came to see you about, Anne."
+
+She gave a little shriek of wonder. "For heaven's sake, Simmy, don't tell
+me that _you_ are going to be married. I can't believe it."
+
+He made note of the emphasis she put upon the pronoun, and secretly
+resented it.
+
+"Depends entirely on you, Anne," he said. He looked over his shoulder to
+see if any one was within the sound of his voice, which he took the
+precaution to lower to what had always been a successful tone in days when
+he was considered quite an excellent purveyor of sweet nothings in dim
+hallways, shady nooks and unpopulated stairways. "I want you to marry me
+right away," he went on, but not with that amazing confidence of yester-
+years.
+
+Anne blinked. Then she drew back and stared at him for a moment. A merry
+smile followed her brief inspection.
+
+"Simmy, you've been drinking."
+
+He scowled, and at that she laughed aloud. "'Pon my soul, not more than
+three, Anne. I rarely drink in the middle of the day. Almost never, I
+swear to you. Confound it, why should you say I've been drinking? Can't I
+be serious without being accused of drunkenness? What the devil do you
+mean, Anne, by intimating that I--"
+
+"Don't explode, Simmy," she cried. "I wasn't intimating a thing. I was
+positively asserting it. But go on, please. You interest me. Don't try to
+look injured, Simmy. You can't manage it at all."
+
+"I didn't come here to be insulted," he growled.
+
+"Did you come here to insult me?" she inquired, the smile suddenly leaving
+her eyes.
+
+"Good Lord, no!" he gasped. "Only I don't like what you said a minute ago.
+I never was more serious or more sober in my life. You've been proposed to
+a hundred times, I suppose, and I'll bet I'm the only one you've ever
+accused of drinking at the time. It's just my luck. I--"
+
+"What in the world are you trying to get at, Simmy Dodge?" she cried. "Are
+you really asking me to marry you?"
+
+"Certainly," he said, far from mollified.
+
+She leaned back in the chair and regarded him in silence for a moment. "Is
+it possible that you have not heard that I am to be married this month?"
+she asked, and there was something like pity in her manner.
+
+"Heard it? Of course, I've heard it. Everybody's heard it. That's just
+what I've come to see you about. To talk the whole thing over. To see if
+we can't do something. Now, there is a way out of it, dear girl. It may
+not be the best way in the world but it's infinitely--"
+
+"Are you crazy?" she cried, staring at him in alarm.
+
+"See here, Anne," he said gently, "I am your friend. It will not make any
+difference to you if I tell you that I love you, that I've loved you for
+years. It's true nevertheless. I'm glad that I've at last had the courage
+to tell you. Still I suppose it's immaterial. I've come up here this
+afternoon to ask you to be my wife. I don't ask you to _say_ that you love
+me. I don't want to put you in such a position as that. I know you don't
+love me, but--"
+
+"Simmy! Oh, Simmy!" she cried out, a hysterical laugh in her throat that
+died suddenly in a strange, choking way. She was looking at him now with
+wide, comprehending eyes.
+
+"I can't bear to see you married to that old man, Anne," he went on. "It
+is too awful for words. You are one of the most perfect of God's
+creations. You shall not be sacrificed on this damned altar of--I beg your
+pardon, I did not mean to begin by accusing any one of deliberately
+forcing you into--into--" He broke off and pulled fiercely at his little
+moustache.
+
+"I see now," she said presently. "You are willing to sacrifice yourself in
+order that I may be spared. Is that it?"
+
+"It isn't precisely a sacrifice. At least, it isn't quite the same sort of
+sacrifice that goes with your case as it now stands. In this instance, one
+of us at least is moved by a feeling of love;--in the other, there is no
+love at all. If you will take me, Anne, you will get a man who adores you
+for yourself. Isn't there something in that? I can give you everything
+that old man Thorpe can give, with love thrown in. I understand the
+situation. You are not marrying that old man because you love him. There's
+something back of it all that you can't tell me, and I shall not ask you
+to do so. But listen, dear; I'm decent, I'm honest, I'm young and I'm
+rich. I can give you everything that money will buy. Good Lord, I wish I
+could remember just what I've got to offer you in the way of--But, never
+mind now. If you'd like it, I'll have my secretary make out a complete
+list of--"
+
+"So you think I am marrying Mr. Thorpe for his money,--is that it, Simmy
+dear?" she asked.
+
+"I know it," said he promptly. "That is, you are marrying him because some
+one else--ahem! You can't expect me to believe that you love the old
+codger."
+
+"No, I can't expect that of any one. Thank you, Simmy. I think I
+understand. You really want to--to save me. Isn't that so?"
+
+"I do, Anne, God knows I do," he said fervently. "It's the most beastly,
+diabolical--"
+
+"You have been fair with me, Simmy," she broke in seriously, "so I'll be
+fair with you. I am marrying Mr. Thorpe for his money. I ought to be
+ashamed to confess it openly in this way, but I'm not. Every one knows
+just why I am going into this thing, and every one is putting the blame
+upon my mother. She is not wholly to blame. I am not being driven into it.
+It's in the blood of us. We are that kind. We are a bad lot, Simmy, we
+women of the breed. It goes a long way back, and we're all alike. Don't
+ask me to say anything more, dear old boy. I'm just a rotter, so let it go
+at that."
+
+"You're nothing of the sort," he exclaimed, seizing her hand. "You're
+nothing of the sort!"
+
+"Oh, yes, I am," she said wearily.
+
+"See here, Anne," he said earnestly, "why not take me? If it's a matter of
+money, and nothing else, why not take me? That's what I mean. That's just
+what I wanted to explain to you. Think it over, Anne. For heaven's sake,
+don't go on with the other thing. Chuck it all and--take me. I won't bother
+you much. You can have all the money you need--and more, if you ask for it.
+Hang it all, I'll settle a stipulated amount upon you before we take
+another step. A million, two millions,--I don't care a hang,--only don't
+spoil this bright, splendid young life of yours by--Oh, Lordy, it's
+incomprehensible!"
+
+She patted the back of his hand, gently, even tremblingly. Her eyes were
+very bright and very solemn.
+
+"It has to go on now, Simmy," she said at last.
+
+For a long time they were silent.
+
+"I hope you have got completely over your love for Braden Thorpe," he
+said. "But, of course, you have. You don't care for him any more. You
+couldn't care for him and go on with this. It wouldn't be human, you
+know."
+
+"No, it wouldn't be human," she said, her face rigid.
+
+He was staring intently at the floor. Something vague yet sure was forming
+in his brain, something that grew to comprehension before he spoke.
+
+"By Jove, Anne," he muttered, "I am beginning to understand. You wouldn't
+marry a _young_ man for his money. It has to be an old man, an incredibly
+old man. I see!"
+
+"I would not marry a young man, Simmy, for anything but love," she said
+simply. "I would not live for years with a man unless I loved him, be he
+poor or rich. Now you have it, my friend. I'm a pretty bad one, eh?"
+
+"No, siree! I'd say it speaks mighty well for you," he cried
+enthusiastically. His whimsical smile returned and the points of his
+little moustache went up once more. "Just think of waiting for a golden
+wedding anniversary with a duffer like me! By Jove, I can see the horror
+of that myself. You just couldn't do it. I get your idea perfectly, Anne.
+Would it interest you if I were to promise to be extremely reckless with
+my life? You see, I'm always taking chances with my automobiles. Had three
+or four bad smash-ups already, and one broken arm. I _could_ be a little
+more reckless and _very_ careless if you think it would help. I've never
+had typhoid or pneumonia. I could go about exposing myself to all sorts of
+things after a year or two. Flying machines, too, and long distance
+swimming. I might even try to swim the English Channel. North Pole
+expeditions, African wild game hunts,--all that sort of thing, Anne. I'll
+promise to do everything in my power to make life as short as possible, if
+you'll only--"
+
+"Oh, Simmy, you are killing," she cried, laughing through her tears. "I
+shall always adore you."
+
+"That's what they all say. Well, I've done my best, Anne. If you'll run
+away with me to-night, or to-morrow, or any time before the twenty-third,
+I'll be the happiest man in the world. You can call me up any time,--at the
+club or at my apartment. I'll be ready. Think it over. Good-bye. I wish I
+could wish you good luck in this other--but, of course, you couldn't expect
+that. We're a queer lot, all of us. I've always had a sneaking suspicion
+that if my mother had married the man she was truly in love with, I'd be a
+much better-looking chap than I am to-day."
+
+She was standing beside him at the door, nearly a head taller than he.
+
+"Or," she amended with a dainty grimace, "you might be a very beautiful
+girl, and that would be dreadful."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+The day before the wedding, little Mrs. George Dexter Tresslyn,
+satisfactorily shorn of her appendix and on the rapid road to recovery
+that is traveled only by the perfectly healthy of mankind, confided to her
+doctor that the mystery of the daily bunch of roses was solved. They
+represented the interest and attention of her ex-husband, and, while they
+were unaccompanied by a single word from him, they also signified
+devotion.
+
+"Which means that he is still making love to you?" said Thorpe, with mock
+severity.
+
+"Clandestinely," said she, with a lovely blush and a curious softening of
+her eyes. She was wondering how this big, strong friend of hers would take
+the information, and how far she could go in her confidences without
+adventuring upon forbidden territory. Would he close the gates in the wall
+that guarded his own opinions of the common foe, or would he let her
+inside long enough for a joint discussion of the condition that confronted
+both of them: the Tresslyn nakedness? "He has been inquiring about me
+twice a day by telephone, Doctor, and this morning he was down stairs. My
+night nurse knows him by sight. He was here at half-past seven. That's
+very early for George, believe me. This hospital is a long way from where
+he lives. I would say that he got up at six or half-past, wouldn't you?"
+
+"If he went to bed at all," said Thorpe, with a grim smile.
+
+"Anyhow, it proves something, doesn't it?" she persisted.
+
+"Obviously. He is still in love with you, if that's what you want me to
+say."
+
+"That's just what I wanted you to say," she cried, her eyes sparkling.
+"Poor George! He's a dear, and I don't care who hears me say it. If he'd
+had any kind of a chance at all we wouldn't be--Oh, well, what's the use
+talking about it?" She sighed deeply.
+
+Braden watched her flushed, drawn face with frowning eyes. He realised
+that she had suffered long in silence, that her heart had been wrung in
+the bitter stretches of a thousand nights despite the gay indifference of
+the thousand days that lay between them. For nearly three years she had
+kept alive the hungry thing that gnawed at her heart and would not be
+denied. He was sorry for her. She was better than most of the women he
+knew in one respect if in no other: she was steadfast. She had made a
+bargain and it was not her fault that it was not binding. He had but
+little pity for George Tresslyn. The little he had was due to the belief
+that if the boy had been older he would have fought a better fight for the
+girl. As she lay there now, propped up against the pillows, he could not
+help contrasting her with the splendid, high-bred daughter of Constance
+Tresslyn. That she was a high-minded, honest, God-fearing girl he could
+not for an instant doubt, but that she lacked the--there is but one word
+for it--_class_ of the Tresslyn women he could not but feel as well as see.
+There was a distinct line between them, a line that it would take
+generations to cross. Still, she was a loyal, warm-hearted enduring
+creature, and by qualities such as these she mounted to a much higher
+plane than Anne Tresslyn could ever hope to attain, despite her position
+on the opposite side of the line. He had never seen George's wife in
+anything but a blithe, confident mood; she was an unbeaten little warrior
+who kept her colours flying in the face of a despot called Fate. In fact,
+she was worthy of a better man than young Tresslyn, worthy of the steel of
+a nobler foe than his mother.
+
+He was eager to comfort her. "It is pretty fine of George, sending you
+these flowers every day. I am getting a new light on him. Has he ever
+suggested to you in any way the possibility of--of--well, you know what I
+mean?"
+
+"Fixing it up again between us?" she supplied, an eager light in her eyes.
+"No, never, Dr. Thorpe. He has never spoken to me, never written a line to
+me. That's fine of him too. He loves me, I'm sure of it, and he wants me,
+but it _is_ fine of him not to bother me, now isn't it? He knows he could
+drag me back into the muddle, he knows he could make a fool of me, and yet
+he will not take that advantage of me."
+
+"Would you go back to him if he asked you to do so?"
+
+"I suppose so," she sighed. Then brightly: "So, you see, I shall refuse to
+see him if he ever comes to plead. That's the only way. We must go our
+separate ways, as decreed. I am his wife but I must not so far forget
+myself as to think that he is my husband. I know, Dr. Thorpe, that if we
+had been left alone, we could have managed somehow. He was young, but so
+was I. I am not quite impossible, am I? Don't these friends of yours like
+me, don't they find something worth while in me? If I were as common, as
+undesirable as Mrs. Tresslyn would have me to be, why do people of your
+kind like me,--take me up, as the saying is? I know that I don't really
+belong, I know I'm not just what they are, but I'm not so awfully
+hopeless, now am I? Isn't Mrs. Fenn a nice woman? Doesn't she go about in
+the smart set?"
+
+She appeared to be pleading with him. He smiled.
+
+"Mrs. Fenn is a very nice woman and a very smart one," he said. "You have
+many exceedingly nice women among your friends. So be of good cheer, if
+that signifies anything to you." He was chaffing her in his most amiable
+way.
+
+"It signifies a lot," she said seriously. "By rights, I suppose, I should
+have gone to the devil. That's what was expected of me, you know. When I
+took all that money from Mrs. Tresslyn, it wasn't for the purpose of
+beating my way to the devil as fast as I could. I took it for an entirely
+different reason: to put myself where I could tell other people to go to
+him if I felt so inclined. I took it so that I could make of myself, if
+possible, the sort of woman that George Tresslyn might have married
+without stirring up a row in the family. I've taken good care of all that
+money. It is well invested. I manage to live and dress on the income.
+Rather decent of me, isn't it? Surprisingly decent, you might say, eh?"
+
+"Surprisingly," he agreed, smiling.
+
+"What George Tresslyn needs, Dr. Thorpe, is something to work for,
+something to make work an object to him. What has he got to work for now?
+Nothing, absolutely nothing. He's merely keeping up appearances, and he'll
+never get anywhere in God's world until he finds out that it's a waste of
+time working for a living that's already provided for him."
+
+Thorpe was impressed by this quaint philosophy. "Would you, in your
+wisdom, mind telling me just what you think George would be capable of
+doing in order to earn a living for two people instead of one?"
+
+She looked at him in surprise. "Why, isn't he big and strong and hasn't he
+a brain and a pair of hands? What more can a man require in this little
+old age? A big, strapping fellow doesn't have to sit down and say 'What in
+heaven's name am I to do with these things that God has given me?' Doesn't
+a blacksmith earn enough for ten sometimes, and how about the carpenter,
+the joiner and the man who brings the ice? Didn't I earn a living up to
+the time I burnt my fingers and had to be pensioned for dishonourable
+service? It didn't take much strength or intelligence to demonstrate
+mustard, did it? And you sit there and ask me what George is capable of
+doing! Why, he could do _anything_ if he had to."
+
+"You are really a very wonderful person," said he, with conviction. "I
+believe you could have made a man of George if you'd had the chance."
+
+She looked down. "I suppose the world thinks I made him what he is now, so
+what's the use speculating? Let's talk about you for awhile. Miss McKane
+won't be back for a few minutes, so let's chat some more. Didn't I hear
+you tell her yesterday that you expect to leave for London about the
+first?"
+
+"If you are up and about," said he.
+
+She hesitated, a slight frown on her brow. "Do you know that you are pale
+and tired-looking, Dr. Thorpe? Have you looked in the glass at yourself
+lately?"
+
+"Regularly," he said, forcing a smile. "I shave once a day, and I--"
+
+"I'm serious. You don't look happy. You may confide in me, Doctor. I think
+you ought to talk to some one about it. Are you still in love with Miss
+Tresslyn? Is that what's taking the colour out--"
+
+"I am not in love with Miss Tresslyn," he said, meeting her gaze steadily.
+"That is all over. I will confess that I have been dreadfully hurt,
+terribly shocked. A man doesn't get over such things easily or quickly. I
+will not pretend that I am happy. So, if that explains my appearance to
+you, Mrs. Tresslyn, we'll say no more about it."
+
+Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, I'm sorry if I've--if I've meddled,--if
+I've been too--"
+
+"Don't worry," he broke in quickly. "I don't in the least mind. In fact,
+I'm glad you gave me the opportunity to say in so many words that I do not
+love her. I've never said it before. I'm glad that I have said it. It
+helps, after all."
+
+"You'll be happy yet," she sniffled. "I know you will. The world is full
+of good, noble women, and there's one somewhere who will make you glad
+that this thing has happened to you. Now, we'll change the subject. Miss
+McKane may pop in at any moment, you know. Have you any new patients?"
+
+He smiled again. "No. You are my sole and only, Mrs. Fenn can't persuade
+Rumsey to have a thing done to him, and Simmy Dodge refuses to break his
+neck for scientific purposes, so I've given up hope. I shall take no more
+cases. In a year I may come back from London and then I'll go snooping
+about for nice little persons like you who--"
+
+"Simmy Dodge says you are not living at your grandfather's house any
+longer," she broke, irrelevantly.
+
+"I am at a hotel," he said, and no more.
+
+"I see," she said, frowning very darkly for her.
+
+He studied her face for a moment, and then arose from the chair beside her
+bed. "You may be interested to hear that while I am invited to attend the
+wedding to-morrow afternoon I shall not be there," he said, divining her
+thoughts.
+
+"I didn't like to ask," she said. The nurse came into the room. "He says
+I'm doing as well as could be expected, Miss McKane," she said glibly,
+"and if nothing unforeseen happens I'll be dodging automobiles in Fifth
+Avenue inside of two weeks. Good-bye, Doctor."
+
+"Good-bye. I'll look in to-morrow--afternoon," he said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The marriage of Anne Tresslyn and Templeton Thorpe took place at the home
+of the bridegroom at four o'clock on the afternoon of the twenty-third. A
+departure from the original plans was made imperative at the eleventh hour
+by the fact that Mr. Thorpe had been quite ill during the night. His
+condition was in no sense alarming, but the doctors announced that a
+postponement of the wedding was unavoidable unless the ceremony could be
+held in the Thorpe home instead of at Mrs. Tresslyn's as originally
+planned. Moreover, the already heavily curtailed list of guests would have
+to be narrowed to even smaller proportions. The presence of so many as the
+score of selected guests might prove to be hazardous in view of the old
+gentleman's state of nerves, not to say health. Mr. Thorpe was able to be
+up and about with the aid of the imperturbable Wade, but he was
+exceedingly irascible and hard to manage. He was annoyed with Braden. When
+the strange illness came early in the night, he sent out for his grandson.
+He wanted him to be there if anything serious was to result from the
+stroke,--he persisted in calling it a stroke, scornfully describing his
+attack as a "rush of blood to the head from a heart that had been squeezed
+too severely by old Father Time." Braden was not to be found. What annoyed
+Mr. Thorpe most was the young man's unaccountable disposition to desert
+him in his hour of need. In his querulous tirade, he described his
+grandson over and over again as an ingrate, a traitor, a good-for-nothing
+without the slightest notion of what an obligation means.
+
+He did not know, and was not to know for many days, that his grandson had
+purposely left town with the determination not to return until the ill-
+mated couple were well on their way to the Southland, where the ludicrous
+honeymoon was to be spent. And so it was that the old family doctor had to
+be called in to take charge of Mr. Thorpe in place of the youngster on
+whom he had spent so much money and of whom he expected such great and
+glorious things.
+
+He would not listen to a word concerning a postponement. Miss Tresslyn was
+called up on the telephone by Wade at eight o'clock in the morning, and
+notified of the distressing situation. What was to be done? At first no
+one seemed to know what _could_ be done, and there was a tremendous flurry
+that for the time being threatened to deprive Mr. Thorpe of a mother-in-
+law before the time set for her to actually become one. Doctors were
+summoned to revive the prostrated Mrs. Tresslyn. She went all to pieces,
+according to reports from the servants' hall. In an hour's time, however,
+she was herself once more, and then it was discovered that a postponement
+was the last thing in the world to be considered in a crisis of such
+magnitude. Hasty notes were despatched hither and thither; caterers and
+guests alike were shunted off with scant ceremony; chauffeurs were
+commandeered and motors confiscated; everybody was rushing about in
+systematic confusion, and no one paused to question the commands of the
+distracted lady who rose sublimely to the situation. So promptly and
+effectually was order substituted for chaos that when the clock in Mr.
+Thorpe's drawing-room struck the hour of four, exactly ten people were
+there and two of them were facing a minister of the gospel,--one in an arm
+chair with pillows surrounding him, the other standing tall and slim and
+as white as the driven snow beside him....
+
+Late that night, Mr. George Tresslyn came upon Simmy Dodge in the buffet
+at the Plaza.
+
+"Well, you missed it," he said thickly. His high hat was set far back on
+his head and his face was flushed.
+
+"Come over here in the corner," said Simmy, with discernment, "and for
+heaven's sake don't talk above a whisper."
+
+"Whisper?" said George, annoyed. "What do I want to whisper for? I don't
+want to whisper, Simmy. I never whisper. I hate to hear people whisper. I
+refuse to whisper to anybody."
+
+Simmy took him by the arm and led him to a table in a corner remote from
+others that were occupied.
+
+"Maybe you'd rather go for a drive in the Park," he said engagingly.
+
+"Nonsense! I've been driven all day, Simmy. I don't want to be driven any
+more. I'm tired, that's what's the matter with me. Dog-tired, understand?
+Have a drink? Here, boy!"
+
+"Thanks, George, I don't care for a drink. No, not for me, thank you.
+Strictly on the wagon, you know. Better let it alone yourself. Take my
+advice, George. You're not a drinking man and you can't stand it."
+
+George glowered at him for a moment, and then let his eyes fall. "Guess
+you're right, Simmy. I've had enough. Never mind, waiter. First time I've
+been like this in a mighty long time, Simmy. But don't think I'm
+celebrating, because I ain't. I'm drowning something, that's all." He was
+almost in tears by this time. "I can't help thinking about her standin'
+there beside that old--Oh, Lord! I can't talk about it."
+
+"That's right," said Simmy, persuasively. "I wouldn't if I were you. Come
+along with me. I'll walk home with you, George. A good night's rest will
+put--"
+
+"Rest? My God, Simmy, I'm never going to rest again, not even in my grave.
+Say, do you know who I blame for all this business? Do you?"
+
+"Sh!"
+
+"I won't shoosh! I blame myself. I am to blame and no one else. If I'd
+been any kind of a man I'd have put my foot down--just like that--and
+stopped the thing. That's what I'd have done if I'd been a man, Simmy. And
+instead of stoppin' it, do you know what I did? I went down there and
+stood up with old Thorpe as his best man. Can you beat that? His best man!
+My God! Wait a minute. See, he was sittin' just like you are--lean back a
+little and drop your chin--and I was standing right here, see--on this side
+of him. Just like this. And over here was Anne--oh, Lord! And here was
+Katherine Browne,--best maid, you know,--I mean maid of honour. Standin'
+just like this, d'you see? And then right in front here was the preacher.
+Say, where do all these preachers come from? I've never seen that feller
+in all my life, and still they say he's an old friend of the family. Fine
+business for a preacher to be in, wasn't it? Fi-ine bus-i-ness! He ought
+to have been ashamed of himself. By Gosh, come to think of it, I believe
+he was worse than I. He might have got out of it if he'd tried. He looked
+like a regular man, and I'm nothing but a fish-worm."
+
+"Not so loud, George, for heaven's sake. You don't want all these men in
+here to--"
+
+"Right you are, Simmy, right you are. I'm one of the fellers that talks
+louder than anybody else and thinks he's as big as George Washington
+because he's got a bass voice." He lowered his voice to a hoarse, raucous
+whisper and went on. "And mother stood over there, see,--right about where
+that cuspidor is,--and looked at the preacher all the time. Watchin' to see
+that he kept his face straight, I suppose. Couple of old rummies standin'
+back there where that table is, all dressed up in Prince Alberts and
+shaved within an inch of their lives. Lawyers, I heard afterwards. Old
+Mrs. Browne and Doc. Bates stood just behind me. Now you have it, just as
+it was. Curtains all down and electric lights going full blast. It
+wouldn't have been so bad if the lights had been out. Couldn't have seen
+old Tempy, for one thing, and Anne's face for another. I'll never forget
+Anne's face." His own face was now as white as chalk and convulsed with
+genuine emotion.
+
+Simmy was troubled. There was that about George Tresslyn that suggested a
+subsequent catastrophe. He was in no mood to be left to himself. There was
+the despairing look of the man who kills in his eyes, but who kills only
+himself.
+
+"See here, George, let's drop it now. Don't go on like this. Come along,
+do. Come to my rooms and I'll make you comfortable for the--"
+
+But George was not through with his account of the wedding. He
+straightened up and, gritting his teeth, went on with the story. "Then
+there were the responses, Simmy,--the same that we had, Lutie and I,--just
+the same, only they sounded queer and awful and strange to-day. Only young
+people ought to get married, Simmy. It doesn't seem so rotten when young
+people lie like that to each other. Before I really knew what had happened
+the preacher had pronounced them husband and wife, and there I stood like
+a block of marble and held my peace when he asked if any one knew of a
+just cause why they shouldn't be joined in holy wedlock. I never even
+opened my lips. Then everybody rushed up and congratulated Anne! And
+kissed her, and made all sorts of horrible noises over her. And then what
+do you think happened? Old Tempy up and practically ordered everybody out
+of the house. Said he was tired and wanted to be left alone. 'Good-bye,'
+he said, just like that, right in our faces--right in mother's face, and
+the preacher's, and old Mrs. Browne's. You could have heard a pin drop.
+'Good-bye,' that's what he said, and then, will you believe it, he turned
+to one of the pie-faced lawyers and said to him: 'Will you turn over that
+package to my wife, Mr. Hollenback?' and then he says to that man of his:
+'Wade, be good enough to hand Mr. Tresslyn the little acknowledgment for
+his services?' Then and there, that lawyer gave Anne a thick envelope and
+Wade gave me a little box,--a little bit of a box that I wish I'd kept to
+bury the old skinflint in. It would be just about his size. I had it in my
+vest pocket for awhile. 'Wade, your arm,' says he, and then with what he
+probably intended to be a sweet smile for Anne, he got to his feet and
+went out of the room, holding his side and bending over just as if he was
+having a devil of time to keep from laughing out loud. I heard the doctor
+say something about a pain there, but I didn't pay much attention. What do
+you think of that? Got right up and left his guests, his bride and
+everybody standing there like a lot of goops. His bride, mind you. I'm
+dead sure that so-called stroke of his was all a bluff. He just put one
+over on us, that's all. Wasn't any more sick than I am. Didn't you hear
+about the stroke? Stroke of luck, I'd call it. And say, what do you think
+he gave me as a little acknowledgment for my services? Look! Feast your
+eyes upon it!" He turned back the lapel of his coat and fumbled for a
+moment before extracting from the cloth a very ordinary looking scarf-pin,
+a small aqua-marine surrounded by a narrow rim of pearls. "Great, isn't
+it? Magnificent tribute! You could get a dozen of 'em for fifty dollars.
+That's what I got for being best man at my sister's funeral, and, by God,
+it's more than I deserved at that. He had me sized up properly, I'll say
+that for him."
+
+He bowed his head dejectedly, his lips working in a sort of spasmodic
+silence. Dodge eyed him with a curious, new-born commiseration. The boy's
+self-abasement, his misery, his flouting of his own weakness were not
+altogether the result of maudlin reaction. He presented a combination of
+manliness and effectiveness that perplexed and irritated Simeon Dodge. He
+did not want to feel sorry for him and yet he could not help doing so.
+George's broad shoulders and splendid chest were heaving under the strain
+of a genuine, real emotion. Drink was not responsible for his present
+estimate of himself; it had merely opened the gates to expression.
+
+Simmy's scrutiny took in the fine, powerful body of this incompetent
+giant,--for he was a giant to Simmy,--and out of his appraisal grew a fresh
+complaint against the Force that fashions men with such cruel
+inconsistency. What would not he perform if he were fashioned like this
+splendid being? Why had God given to George Tresslyn all this strength and
+beauty, to waste and abuse, when He might have divided His gifts with a
+kindlier hand? To what heights of attainment in all the enterprises of man
+would not he have mounted if Nature had but given to him the shell that
+George Tresslyn occupied? And why should Nature have put an incompetent,
+useless dweller into such a splendid house when he would have got on just
+as well or better perhaps in an insignificant body like his own?
+Proportions were wrong, outrageously wrong, grieved Simmy as he studied
+the man who despised the strength God had given him. And down in his
+honest, despairing soul, Simmy Dodge was saying to himself that he would
+cheerfully give all of his wealth, all of his intelligence, all of his
+prospects, in exchange for a physical body like George Tresslyn's. He
+would court poverty for the privilege of enjoying other triumphs along the
+road to happiness.
+
+"Why don't you say something?" demanded George, suddenly looking up. "Call
+me whatever you please, Simmy; I'll not resent it. Hang it all, I'll let
+you kick me if you want to. Wouldn't you like to, Simmy?"
+
+"Lord love you, no, my boy," cried the other, reaching out and laying a
+hand on George's shoulder. "See here, George, there's a great deal more to
+you than you suspect. You've got everything that a man ought to have
+except one thing, and you can get that if you make up your mind to go
+after it."
+
+"What's that?" said George, vaguely interested.
+
+"Independence," said Simmy. "Do you know what I'd do if I had that body
+and brain of yours?"
+
+"Yes," said George promptly. "You'd go out and lick the world, Simmy,
+because you're that kind of a feller. You've got character, you have.
+You've got self-respect, and ideals, and nerve. I ought to have been put
+into your body and you into mine."
+
+Simmy winced. "Strike out for yourself, George. Be somebody. Buck up,
+and--"
+
+George sagged back into the chair as he gloomily interrupted the speaker.
+"That's all very fine, Simmy, that sort of talk, but I'm not in the mood
+to listen to it now. I wasn't through telling you about the wedding. Where
+was I when I stopped? Oh, yes, the scarf-pin. Hey, waiter! Come here a
+second."
+
+A waiter approached. With great solemnity George arose and grasped him by
+the shoulder, and a moment later had removed the nickel-plated badge from
+the man's lapel. The waiter was tolerant. He grinned. It was what he was
+expected to do under the circumstances. But he was astonished by the next
+act of the tall young man in evening clothes. George proceeded to jam the
+scarf-pin into the fellow's coat where the badge of service had rested the
+instant before. Then, with Simmy looking on in disgust, he pinned the
+waiter's badge upon his own coat. "There!" he said, with a sneer. "That is
+supposed to make a gentleman of you, and this makes a man of me. On your
+way, gentleman! I--"
+
+"For heaven's sake, George," cried Simmy, arising. "Don't be an ass." He
+took the tag from Tresslyn's coat and handed it back to the waiter. "Give
+him the scarf-pin if you like, old man, but don't rob him of his badge of
+honour. He earns an honest living with that thing, you know."
+
+George sat down. He was suddenly abashed. "What an awful bounder you must
+think I am, Simmy."
+
+"Nonsense. You're a bit tight, that's all." He slipped the waiter a bank-
+note and motioned him away. "Now, let's go home, George."
+
+"Yes, sir; he turned and walked out of the room, leaving all of us
+standing there," muttered George, with a mental leap backward. "I'll never
+forget it, long as I live. He simply scorned the whole lot of us. I went
+away as quickly as I could, but the others beat me to it. I left mother
+and Anne there all alone, just wandering around the room as if they were
+half-stunned. Never, never will I forget Anne's white, scared face, and
+I've never seen mother so helpless, either. Anne gripped, that big
+envelope so tight that it crumpled up into almost nothing. Mother took it
+away from her and opened it. Nobody was there but us three. I shan't tell
+you what was in the envelope. I'm not drunk enough for that."
+
+"Never mind. It's immaterial, in any event." Simmy had called for his
+check.
+
+George's mind took a new twist. Suddenly he sprang to his feet. "By the
+way, before I forget it, do you know where I can find Braden Thorpe?"
+
+A black scowl disfigured his face. There was an ugly, ominous glare in his
+fast clearing eyes. Simmy, coming no higher than his shoulder, linked his
+arm through one of George's and started toward the door with him. He was
+headed for the porters' entrance.
+
+"He's out of town, George. Don't bother about Braden."
+
+"I'm going to kill Brady Thorpe, Simmy," said George hoarsely. Simmy felt
+the big right arm swell and become as rigid as steel.
+
+"Don't talk like a fool," he whispered.
+
+"He didn't act right by Anne," said George. "He's got to account to me.
+He's--"
+
+They were in the narrow hallway by this time. Simmy called to a porter.
+
+"Get me a taxi, will you?"
+
+"I say he didn't act right by Anne. It's his fault that she--Let go my arm,
+Simmy!" He gave it a mighty wrench.
+
+"All right," said Simmy, maintaining his equilibrium with some difficulty
+after the jerk he had received. "Don't you want me to be your friend,
+George?"
+
+George glared at him, and then broke into a shamed, foolish laugh.
+"Forgive me, Simmy. Of course, I want you as my friend. I depend upon
+you."
+
+"Then stop this talk about going after Braden. In heaven's name, you kid,
+what has he done to you or Anne? He's the one who deserves sympathy and--"
+
+"I've got it in for him because he's a coward and a skunk," explained
+George, lowering his voice with praiseworthy consideration. "You see, it's
+just this way, Simmy. He didn't do the right thing by Anne. He ought to
+have come back here and _made_ her marry him. That's where he's to blame.
+He ought to have gone right up to the house and grabbed her by the throat
+and choked her till she gave in and went with him to a justice-of-the-
+peace or something. He owed it to her, Simmy,--he was in duty bound to save
+her. If he hadn't been a sneakin' coward, he'd have choked her till she
+was half-dead and then she would have gone with him gladly. Women like a
+brave man. They like to be choked and beaten and--"
+
+Simmy laughed. "Do you call it bravery to choke a woman into submission,
+and drag her off to--"
+
+"I call it cowardice to give up the woman you love if she loves you," said
+George. "I know what I'm talking about, too, because I'm one of the
+sneakingest cowards on earth. What do you think of me, Simmy? What does
+everybody think of me? Wouldn't call me a brave man, would you?"
+
+"The cases are not parallel. Braden's case is different. He couldn't force
+Anne to--"
+
+"See here, Simmy," broke in George, wonderingly, "I hadn't noticed it
+before, but, by giminy, I believe you're tipsy. You've been drinking,
+Simmy. No sober man would talk as you do. When you sober up, you'll think
+just as I do,--and that is that Brady Thorpe ought to have been a man when
+he had the chance. He ought to have stuck his fist under Anne's nose and
+said 'Come on, or I'll smash you,' and she'd have gone with him like a
+little lamb, and she'd have loved him a hundred times more than she ever
+loved him before. He didn't do the right thing by her, Simmy. He didn't,
+curse him, and I'll never forgive him. I'm going to wring his neck, so
+help me Moses. I've been a coward just as long as I intend to be. Take a
+good look at me, Simmy. If you watch closely you may see me turning into a
+man."
+
+"Get in," said Simmy, pushing him toward the door of the taxi-cab. "A
+little sleep is what you need."
+
+"And say, there's another thing I've got to square up with Brady Thorpe,"
+protested George, holding back. "He took Lutie up there to that beastly
+hospital and slashed her open, curse him. A poor, helpless little girl
+like that! Call that brave? Sticking a knife into Lutie? He's got to
+settle with me for that, too."
+
+And then Simmy understood.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+Much may happen in a year's time. The history of the few people involved
+in the making of this narrative presents but few new aspects, and yet
+there is now to be disclosed an unerring indication of great and perhaps
+enduring changes in the lives of every one concerned.
+
+To begin with, Templeton Thorpe, at the age of seventy-eight, is lying at
+the edge of his grave. On the day of his marriage with Anne Tresslyn, he
+put down his arms in the long and hopeless conflict with an enemy that
+knows no pity, a foe so supremely confident that man has been powerless to
+do more than devise a means to temporarily check its relentless fury. The
+thing in Mr. Thorpe's side was demanding the tolls of victory. There was
+no curbing its wrath: neither the soft nor the harsh answer of science had
+served to turn it away. The hand with the gleaming, keen-edged knife had
+been offered against it again and again, but the stroke had never fallen,
+for always there stood between it and the surgeon who would slay the
+ravager, the resolute fear of Templeton Thorpe. Time there was when the
+keen-edged knife might have vanquished or at least deprived it of its
+early venom, but the body of a physical coward housed it and denied
+admittance to all-comers. Templeton Thorpe did not fear death. He wanted
+to die, he implored his Maker to become his Destroyer. The torture of a
+slow, inevitable death, however, was as nothing to the horror of the knife
+that is sharp and cold.
+
+When he went upstairs with Wade on that memorable twenty-third of March,
+he said to his enemy: "Be quick, that's all I ask of you," and then
+prepared to wait as patiently as he could for the friendly end.
+
+From that day on, he was to the eyes of the world what he had long been to
+himself in secret: a sick man without hope. Weeks passed before his bride
+recognised the revolting truth, and when she came to know that he was
+doomed her pity was _so_ vast that she sickened under its weight. She had
+come prepared to see him die, as all men do when they have lived out their
+time, but she had not counted on seeing him die like this, with suffering
+in his bleak old eyes and a smile of derision on his pallid lips.
+
+Old Templeton Thorpe's sufferings were for himself, and he guarded them
+jealously with all the fortitude he could command. His irascibility
+increased with his determination to fight it out alone. He disdained every
+move on her part to extend sympathy and help to him. To her credit, be it
+said, she would have become his nurse and consoler if he had let down the
+bars,--not willingly, of course, but because there was in Anne Thorpe,
+after all, the heart of a woman, and of such it must be said there is
+rarely an instance where its warmth has failed to respond to the call of
+human suffering. She would have tried to help him, she would have tried to
+do her part. But he was grim, he was resolute. She could not bridge the
+gulf that lay between them. His profound tolerance did not deceive her; it
+was scorn of the most poignant character.
+
+Braden was in Europe. He was expected in New York by the middle of March.
+His grandfather would not consent to his being sent for, although it was
+plain to be seen that he lived only for the young man's return.
+
+Anne had once suggested, timorously, that Braden's place was at the
+sufferer's bedside, but the smile that the old man bestowed upon her was
+so significant, so full of understanding, that she shrank within herself
+and said no more. She knew, however, that he longed for the sustaining
+hand of his only blood relation, that he looked upon himself as utterly
+alone in these last few weeks of life; and yet he would not send out the
+appeal that lay uppermost in his thoughts. In his own good time Braden
+would come back and there would be perhaps' one long, farewell grip of the
+hand.
+
+After that, ironic peace.
+
+He could not be cured himself, but he wanted to be sure that Braden was
+cured before he passed away. He knew that his grandson would not come home
+until the last vestige of love and respect for Anne Tresslyn was gone; not
+until he was sure that his wound had healed beyond all danger of bleeding
+again. Mr. Thorpe was satisfied that he had served his grandson well. He
+was confident that the young man would thank him on his death-bed for
+turning the hand of fate in the right direction, so that it pointed to
+contentment and safety. Therefore, he felt himself justified in forbidding
+any one to acquaint Braden of the desperate condition into which he had
+fallen. He insisted that no word be sent to him, and, as in all things,
+the singular power of old Templeton Thorpe prevailed over the forces that
+were opposed. Letters came to him infrequently from the young
+man,--considerate, formal letters in which he never failed to find the
+touch of repressed gratitude that inspired the distant writer. Soon he
+would be coming home to "set up for himself." Soon he would be fighting
+the battle of life on the field that no man knew and yet was traversed by
+all.
+
+Dr. Bates and the eminent surgeons who came to see the important invalid,
+discussed among themselves, but never in the presence of Mr. Thorpe, the
+remarkable and revolutionary articles that had been appearing of late in
+one of the medical journals over the signature of Braden Thorpe. There
+were two articles, one in answer to a savage, denunciatory communication
+that had been drawn out by the initial contribution from the pen of young
+Thorpe.
+
+In his first article, Braden had deliberately taken a stand in favour of
+the merciful destruction of human life in cases where suffering is
+unendurable and the last chance for recovery or even relief is lost. He
+had the courage, the foolhardiness to sign his name to the article,
+thereby irrevocably committing himself to the propaganda. A storm of
+sarcasm ensued. The great surgeons of the land ignored the article,
+amiably attributing it to a "young fool who would come to his senses one
+day." Young and striving men in the profession rushed into print,--or at
+least tried to do so,--with the result that Braden was excoriated by a
+thousand pens. Only one of these efforts was worthy of notice, and it
+inspired a calm, dispassionate rejoinder from young Thorpe, who merely
+called attention to the fact that he was not trying to "make murderers out
+of God's commissioners," but was on the other hand advocating a plan by
+which they might one day,--a far-off day, no doubt,--extend by Man's law,
+the same mercy to the human being that is given to the injured beast.
+
+Anne was shocked one day by a callous observation on the lips of old Dr.
+Bates, a sound practitioner and ordinarily as gentle as the average family
+doctor one hears so much about. Mr. Thorpe was in greater pain than usual
+that day. Opiates were of little use in these cruel hours. It was now
+impossible to give him an amount sufficient to produce relief without
+endangering the life that hung by so thin a thread.
+
+"I suppose this excellent grandson of his would say that Mr. Thorpe ought
+to be killed forthwith, and put out of his misery," said the doctor,
+discussing his patient's condition with the young wife in the library
+after a long visit upstairs.
+
+Anne started violently. "What do you mean by that, Dr. Bates?" she
+inquired, after a moment in which she managed to subdue her agitation.
+
+"Perhaps I shouldn't have said it," apologised the old physician, really
+distressed. "I did it quite thoughtlessly, my dear Mrs. Thorpe. I forgot
+that you do not read the medical journals."
+
+"Oh, I know what Braden has always preached," she said hurriedly. "But it
+never--it never occurred to me that--" She did not complete the sentence. A
+ghastly pallor had settled over her face.
+
+"That his theory might find application to the case upstairs?" supplied
+the doctor. "Of course it would be unthinkable. Very stupid of me to have
+spoken of it."
+
+Anne leaned forward in her chair. "Then you regard Mr. Thorpe's case as
+one that might be included in Braden's--" Again she failed to complete a
+sentence.
+
+"Yes, Mrs. Thorpe," said Dr. Bates gravely. "If young Braden's pet theory
+were in practice now, your husband would be entitled to the mercy he
+prescribes."
+
+"He has no chance?"
+
+"Absolutely no chance."
+
+"All there is left for him is to just go on suffering until--until life
+wears out?"
+
+"We are doing everything in our power to alleviate the
+suffering,--everything that is known to science," he vouchsafed. "We can do
+no more."
+
+"How long will he live, Dr. Bates?" she asked, and instantly shrank from
+the fear that he would misinterpret her interest.
+
+"No man can answer that question, Mrs. Thorpe. He may live a week, he may
+live six months. I give him no more than two."
+
+"And if he were to consent to the operation that you once advised, what
+then?"
+
+"That was a year ago. I would not advise an operation now. It is too late.
+In fact, I would be opposed to it. There are men in my profession who
+would take the chance, I've no doubt,--men who would risk all on the
+millionth part of a chance."
+
+"You think he would die on the operating table?"
+
+"Perhaps,--and perhaps not. That isn't the point. It would be useless,
+that's all."
+
+"Then why isn't Braden's theory sound and humane?" she demanded sharply.
+
+He frowned. "It is humane, Mrs. Thorpe," said he gravely, "but it isn't
+sound. I grant you that there is not one of us who would not rejoice in
+the death of a man in Mr. Thorpe's condition, but there is not one who
+would deliberately take his life."
+
+"It is all so cruel, so horribly cruel," she said. "The savages in the
+heart of the jungle can give us lessons in humanity."
+
+"I daresay," said he. "By the same reasoning, is it wise for us to receive
+lessons in savagery from them?"
+
+Anne was silent for a time. She felt called upon to utter a defence for
+Braden but hesitated because she could not choose her words. At last she
+spoke. "I have known Braden Thorpe all my life, Dr. Bates. He is sincere
+on this question. I think you might grant him that distinction."
+
+"Lord love you, madam, I haven't the faintest doubt as to his sincerity,"
+cried the old doctor. "He is voicing the sentiment of every honest man in
+my profession, but he overlooks the fact that sentiment has a very small
+place among the people we serve,--in other words, the people who love life
+and employ us to preserve it for them, even against the will of God."
+
+"They say that soldiers on the field of battle sometimes mercifully put an
+end to the lives of their mutilated comrades," she mused aloud.
+
+"And they make it their business to put an end to the lives of the
+perfectly sound and healthy men who confront them on that same field of
+battle," he was quick to return. "There is a wide distinction between a
+weapon and an instrument, Mrs. Thorpe, and there is just as much
+difference between the inspired soldier and the uninspired doctor, or
+between impulse and decision."
+
+"I believe that Mr. Thorpe would welcome death," said she.
+
+Dr. Bates shook his head. "My dear, if that were true he could obtain
+relief from his suffering to-day,--this very hour."
+
+"What do you mean?" she cried, with a swift shudder, as one suddenly
+assailed by foreboding.
+
+"There is a very sharp razor blade on his dressing-table," said Dr. Bates
+with curious deliberation. "Besides that, there is sufficient poison in
+four of those little--But there, I must say no more. You are alarmed,--and
+needlessly. He will not take his own life, you may be sure of that. By
+reaching out his hand he can grasp death, and he knows it. A month ago I
+said this to him: 'Mr. Thorpe, I must ask you to be very careful. If you
+do not sleep well to-night, take one of these tablets. If one does not
+give you relief, you may take another, but no more. Four of them would
+mean certain, almost instant death.' For more than a month that little box
+of tablets has lain at his elbow, so to speak. Death has been within reach
+all this time. Those tablets are still there, Mrs. Thorpe, so now you
+understand."
+
+"Yes," she said, staring at him as if fascinated; "they are still there. I
+understand."
+
+The thick envelope that Mr. Hollenback handed to Anne on the day of her
+wedding contained a properly executed assignment of securities amounting
+to two million dollars, together with an order to the executors under his
+will to pay in gold to her immediately after his death an amount
+sufficient to cover any shrinkage that may have occurred in the value of
+the bonds by reason of market fluctuations. In plain words, she was to
+have her full two millions. There was also an instrument authorising a
+certain Trust Company to act as depository for these securities, all of
+which were carefully enumerated and classified, with instructions to
+collect and pay to her during his lifetime the interest on said bonds. At
+his death the securities were to be delivered to her without recourse to
+the courts, and were to be free of the death tax, which was to be paid
+from the residue of the estate. There was a provision, however, that she
+was to pay the state, city and county taxes on the full assessed value of
+these bonds during his lifetime, and doubtless by premeditation on his
+part all of them were subject to taxation. This unsuspected "joker" in the
+arrangements was frequently alluded to by Anne's mother as a "direct slap
+in the face," for, said she, it was evidently intended as a reflection
+upon the Tresslyns who, as a family, it appears, were very skilful in
+avoiding the payment of taxes of any description. (It was a notorious fact
+that the richest of the Tresslyns was little more than a mendicant when
+the time came to take his solemn oath concerning taxable possessions.)
+
+Anne took a most amazing stand in respect to the interest on these bonds.
+Her income from them amounted to something over ninety thousand dollars a
+year, for Mr. Thorpe's investments were invariably sound and sure. He
+preferred a safe four or four and a half per cent, bond to an "attractive
+six." With the coming of each month in the year, Anne was notified by the
+Trust Company that anywhere from seven to eight thousand dollars had been
+credited to her account in the bank. She kept her own private account in
+another bank, and it was against this that she drew her checks. She did
+not withdraw a dollar of the interest arising from her matrimonial
+investment!
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn, supremely confident and self-assured, sustained the
+greatest shock of her life when she found that Anne was behaving in this
+quixotic manner about the profits of the enterprise. At first she could
+not believe her ears. But Anne was obdurate, She maintained that her
+contract called for two million dollars and no more, and she refused to
+consider this extraneous accumulation as rightfully her own. Her mother
+berated her without effect. She subjected her to countless attacks from as
+many angles, but Anne was as "hard as nails."
+
+"I'm not earning this ninety thousand a year, mother," she declared hotly,
+"and I shall not accept it as a gift. If I were Mr. Thorpe's wife in every
+sense of the term, it might be different, but as you happen to know I am
+nothing more than a figure of speech in his household. I am not even his
+nurse, nor his housekeeper, nor his friend. He despises me. I despise
+myself, for that matter, so he's not quite alone in his opinion. I've sold
+myself for a price, mother, but you must at least grant me the privilege
+of refusing to draw interest on my infamy."
+
+"Infamy!" gasped Mrs. Tresslyn. "Infamy? What rot,--what utter rot!"
+
+"Just the same, I shall confine myself to the original bargain. It is bad
+enough. I shan't make it any worse by taking money that doesn't belong to
+me."
+
+"Those bonds are yours," snapped Mrs. Tresslyn. "You are certainly
+entitled to the interest. You--"
+
+"They are _not_ mine," returned Anne decisively. "Not until Mr. Thorpe is
+dead, if you please. I am to have my pay after he has passed away, no
+sooner. That was the bargain."
+
+"You did not hesitate to accept some rather expensive pearls if I remember
+correctly," said Mrs. Tresslyn bitingly.
+
+"That was his affair, not mine," said Anne coolly. "He despises me so
+thoroughly that he thought he could go beyond his contract and tempt me
+with this interest we are quarrelling about, mother. He was sure that I
+would jump at it as a greedy fish snaps at the bait. But I disappointed
+him. I shall never forget the look of surprise,--no, it was wonder,--that
+came into his eyes when I flatly refused to take this interest. That was
+nearly a year ago. He began to treat me with a little respect after that.
+There is scarcely a month goes by that he does not bring up the subject. I
+think he has never abandoned the hope that I may give in, after all.
+Lately he has taken to chuckling when I make my monthly protest against
+accepting this money. He can't believe it of me. He thinks there is
+something amusing about what I have been foolish enough to call my sense
+of honour. Still, I believe he has a little better opinion of me than he
+had at first. And now, mother, once and for all, let us consider the
+matter closed. I will not take the interest until the principal is
+indisputably mine."
+
+"You are a fool, Anne," said her mother, in her desperation; "a simple,
+ridiculous fool. Why shouldn't you take it? It is yours. You can't afford
+to throw away ninety thousand dollars. The bank has orders to pay it over
+to you, and it is deposited to your account. That ought to settle the
+matter. If it isn't yours, may I enquire to whom does it belong?"
+
+"Time enough to decide that, mother," said Anne, so composedly that Mrs.
+Tresslyn writhed with exasperation. "I haven't quite decided who is to
+have it in the end. You may be sure, however, that I shall give it to some
+worthy cause. It shan't be wasted."
+
+"Do you mean to say that you will give it away--give it to charity?"
+groaned her mother.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+Words failed Mrs. Tresslyn. She could only stare in utter astonishment at
+this incomprehensible creature.
+
+"I may have to ask your advice when the time comes," went on Anne,
+complacently. "You must assist me in selecting the most worthy charity,
+mother dear."
+
+"I suppose it has never occurred to you that there is some justice in the
+much abused axiom that charity begins at home," said Mrs. Tresslyn
+frigidly.
+
+"Not in our home, however," said Anne. "That's where it ends, if it ends
+anywhere."
+
+"I have hesitated to speak to you about it, Anne, but I am afraid I shall
+now have to confess that I am sorely pressed for money," said Mrs.
+Tresslyn deliberately, and from that moment on she never ceased to employ
+this argument in her crusade against Anne's ingratitude.
+
+There was no estrangement. Neither of them could afford to go to such
+lengths. They saw a great deal of each other, and, despite the constant
+bickerings over the idle money, there was little to indicate that they
+were at loggerheads. Mrs. Tresslyn was forced at last to recognise the
+futility of her appeals to Anne's sense of duty, and contented herself
+with occasional bitter references to her own financial distress. She
+couldn't understand the girl, and she gave up trying. As a matter of fact,
+she began to fear that she would never be able to understand either one of
+her children. She could not even imagine how they could have come by the
+extraordinary stubbornness with which they appeared to be afflicted.
+
+As for George Tresslyn, he was going to the dogs as rapidly and as
+accurately as possible. He took to drink, and drink took him to cards. The
+efforts of Simmy Dodge and other friends, including the despised Percy
+Wintermill, were of no avail. He developed a pugnacious capacity for
+resenting advice. It was easy to see what was behind the big boy's
+behaviour: simple despair. He counted himself among the failures. In due
+time he lost his position in Wall Street and became a complaining
+dependent upon his mother's generosity. He met her arguments with the
+furious and constantly reiterated charge that she had ruined his life.
+That was another thing that Mrs. Tresslyn could not understand. How, in
+heaven's name, had she ruined his life?
+
+He took especial delight in directing her attention to the upward progress
+of the discredited Lutie.
+
+That attractive young person, much to Mrs. Tresslyn's disgust, actually
+had insinuated her vulgar presence into comparatively good society, and
+was coming on apace. Blithe, and gay, and discriminating, the former
+"mustard girl" was making a place for herself among the moderately smart
+people. Now and then her name appeared in the society columns of the
+newspapers, where, much to Mrs. Tresslyn's annoyance, she was always
+spoken of as "Mrs. George Dexter Tresslyn." Moreover, in several
+instances, George's mother had found her own name printed next to Lutie's
+in the alphabetical list of guests at rather large entertainments, and
+once,--heaven forfend that it should happen again!--the former "mustard
+girl's" picture was published on the same page of a supplement with that
+of the exclusive Mrs. Tresslyn and her daughter, Mrs. Templeton Thorpe,
+over the caption: "The Tresslyn Triumvirate," supplied by a subsequently
+disengaged art editor.
+
+George came near to being turned out into the street one day when he so
+far forgot himself as to declare that Lutie was worth the whole Tresslyn
+lot put together, and she ought to be thankful she had had "the can tied
+to her" in time. His mother was livid with fury.
+
+"If you ever mention that person's name in this house again, you will have
+to leave it forever. If she's worth anything at all it is because she has
+appropriated the Tresslyn name that you appear to belittle. You--"
+
+"She didn't appropriate it," flared George. "I remember distinctly of
+having given it to her. I don't care what you say or do, mother, she
+deserves a lot of credit. She's made a place for herself, she's decent,
+she's clever--"
+
+"She hasn't earned a place for herself, let me remind you, sir. She made
+it out of the proceeds of a sale, the sale of a husband. Don't forget,
+George, that she sold you for so much cash."
+
+"A darned good bargain," said he, "seeing that she got me at my own
+value,--which was nothing at all."
+
+Lutie went on her way serenely, securely. If she had a thought for George
+Tresslyn she succeeded very well in keeping it to herself. Men would have
+made love to her, but she denied them that exquisite distraction. Back in
+her mind lurked something that guaranteed immunity.
+
+The year had dealt its changes to Lutie as well as to the others, but they
+were not important. Discussing herself frankly with Simmy Dodge one
+evening, she said:
+
+"I'm getting on, am I not, Simmy? But, after all, why shouldn't I? I'm a
+rather decent sort, and I'm not a real vulgarian, am I? Like those people
+over there at the next table, I mean. The more I go about, the more I
+realise that class is a matter of acquaintance. If you know the right sort
+of people, and have known them long enough, you unconsciously form habits
+that the other sort of people haven't got, so you're said to have 'class.'
+Of course, you've got to be imitative, you've got to be able to mimic the
+real ones, but that isn't difficult if you're half way bright, don't you
+know."
+
+"Lord love you, Lutie, you don't have to imitate any one," said Simmy.
+"You're in a class by yourself."
+
+"Thanks, Simmy. Don't let any one else at the table hear you say such
+things to me, though. They would think that I'd just come in from the
+country. Why shouldn't I get on? How many of the girls that you meet in
+your day's walk have graduated from a high-school? How many of the great
+ladies who rule New York society possess more than a common school
+education, outside of the tricks they've learned after they put on long
+frocks? Not many, let me tell you, Simmy. Four-fifths of them can't spell
+Connecticut, and they don't know how many e's there are in 'separate.' I
+graduated from a high school in Philadelphia, and my mother did the same
+thing before me. I also played on the basket-ball team, if that means
+anything to you. My parents were poor but respectable, God-fearing people,
+as they say in the novels, and they were quite healthy as parents go in
+these days, when times are hard and children so cheap that nobody's
+without a good sized pack of them. I was born with a brain that was meant
+to be used."
+
+"What are you two talking about so secretively?" demanded Mrs. Rumsey
+Fenn, across the table from them.
+
+"Ourselves, of course," said Lutie. "Bright people always have something
+in reserve, my dear. We save the very best for an extremity. Simmy
+delights in talking about me, and I love to talk about him. It's the
+simplest kind of small talk and doesn't disturb us in the least if we
+should happen to be thinking of something else at the time."
+
+"Have you heard when Braden Thorpe is expected home, Simmy?"
+
+"Had a letter from him yesterday. He sails next week. Is there any
+tinkering to be done for your family this season, Madge? Any little old
+repairs to be made?"
+
+"I'm afraid not," said Mrs. Fenn desolately, "Rumsey positively refuses to
+imagine he's got a pain anywhere, and the baby's tonsils are disgustingly
+healthy."
+
+"Old Templeton Thorpe's in a critical condition, I hear," put in Rumsey
+Fenn. "There'll be a choice widow in the market before long, I pledge
+you."
+
+"Can't they operate?" inquired his wife.
+
+"Not for malignant widows," said Mr. Fenn.
+
+"Oh, don't be silly. I should think old Mr. Thorpe would let Braden
+operate. Just think what a fine boost it would give Braden if the
+operation was a success."
+
+"And also if it failed," said one of the men, sententiously. "He's the
+principal heir, isn't he?"
+
+Simmy scowled. "Brady would be the last man in the world to tackle the
+job," he said, and the subject was dropped at once.
+
+And so the end of the year finds Templeton Thorpe on his death bed, Anne a
+quixotic ingrate, George among the diligently unemployed, Lutie on the
+crest of popularity, Braden in contempt of court, and Mrs. Tresslyn sorely
+tried by the vagaries of each and every one of the aforesaid persons.
+
+Simmy Dodge appears to be the only one among them all who stands just as
+he did at the beginning of the year. He has neither lost nor gained. He
+has merely stood still.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+When Dr. Braden Thorpe arrived in New York City on the fourteenth of March
+he was met at the pier by a horde of newspaper men. For the first time, he
+was made to appreciate "the importance of being earnest." These men,
+through a frequently prompted spokesman, put questions to him that were so
+startling in their boldness that he was staggered by the misconception
+that had preceded him into his home land.
+
+He was asked such questions as these: "But, doctor, would you do that sort
+of thing to a person who was dear to you,--say a wife, a mother or an only
+child?" "How could you be sure that a person was hopelessly afflicted?"
+"Have you ever put this theory of yours into practice on the other side?"
+"How many lives have you taken in this way, doctor,--if it is a fair
+question?" "Do you expect to practise openly in New York?" "And if you do
+practise, how many patients do you imagine would come to you, knowing your
+views?" "How would you kill 'em,--with poison or what?" And so on, almost
+without end.
+
+He was to find that a man can become famous and infamous in a single
+newspaper headline, and as for the accuracy of the interviews there was
+but one thing to be said: the questions were invariably theirs and the
+answers also. He did his best to make them understand that he was merely
+advancing a principle and not practising a crime, that his hand had never
+been brought down to kill, that his heart was quite as tender as any other
+man's, and that he certainly was not advocating murder in any degree. Nor
+was he at present attempting to proselyte.
+
+When he finally escaped the reporters, his brow was wet with the sweat of
+one who finds himself confronted by a superior force and with no means of
+defence. He knew that he was to be assailed by every paper in New York.
+They would tear him to shreds.
+
+Wade was at the pier. He waited patiently in the background while the
+returned voyager dealt with the reporters, appearing abruptly at Braden's
+elbow as he was giving his keys to the inspector.
+
+"Good morning, sir," said Wade, in what must be recorded as a confidential
+tone. He might have been repeating the salutation of yesterday morning for
+all that his manner betrayed.
+
+"Hello, Wade! Glad to see you." Braden shook hands with the man. "How is
+my grandfather?"
+
+"Better, sir," said the other, meaning that his master was more
+comfortable than he had been during the night.
+
+Wade was not as much of an optimist as his reply would seem to indicate.
+It was his habit to hold bad news in reserve as long as possible,
+doubtless for the satisfaction it gave him to dribble it out sparingly. He
+had found it to his advantage to break all sorts of news hesitatingly to
+his master, for he was never by way of knowing what Mr. Thorpe would
+regard as bad news. For example, early in his career as valet, he had
+rushed into Mr. Thorpe's presence with what he had every reason to believe
+would be good news. He had been sent over to the home of Mr. Thorpe's son
+for an important bit of information, and he supplied it by almost shouting
+as he burst into the library: "It's a fine boy, sir,--a splendid ten-
+pounder, sir." But Mr. Thorpe, instead of accepting the good news gladly,
+spoiled everything by anxiously inquiring, "And how is the poor little
+mother getting along?"--a question which caused Wade grave annoyance, for
+he had to reply: "I'm sorry, sir, but she's not expected to live the hour
+out."
+
+All of which goes to show that Mr. Thorpe never regarded any news as good
+without first satisfying himself that it wasn't bad.
+
+"I have the automobile outside, sir," went on Wade, "and I am to look
+after your luggage."
+
+"Thank you, Wade. If you'll just grab these bags and help the porter out
+to the car with them, I'll be greatly obliged. And then you may drop me at
+the Wolcott. I shall stop there for a few days, until I get my bearings."
+
+Wade coughed insinuatingly. "Beg pardon, sir, but I was to fetch you
+straight home."
+
+"Do you mean to my grandfather's?" demanded the young man sharply.
+
+"Yes, sir. Those were the orders."
+
+"Orders to be disobeyed, I fear, Wade," said Braden darkly. "I am not
+going to Mr. Thorpe's house."
+
+"I understand, sir," said Wade patiently. "I quite understand. Still it is
+my duty to report to you that Mr. Thorpe is expecting you."
+
+"Nevertheless, I shall not--"
+
+"Perhaps I should inform you that your grandfather is--er--confined to his
+bed. As a matter of fact, Mr. Braden, he is confined to his death-bed."
+
+Braden was shocked. Later on, as he was being rushed across town in the
+car, he drew from Wade all of the distressing details. He had never
+suspected the truth. Indeed, his grandfather had kept the truth from him
+so successfully that he had come to look upon him as one of the fortunate
+few who arrive at death in the full possession of health, those who die
+because the machinery stops of its own accord. And now the worst possible
+death was stalking his benefactor, driving,--always driving without pity.
+Braden's heart was cold, his face pallid with dread as he hurried up the
+steps to the front door of the familiar old house.
+
+He had forgotten Anne and his vow never to enter the house so long as she
+was mistress of it. He forgot that her freedom was about to become an
+accomplished fact, that the thing she had anticipated was now at hand. He
+had often wondered how long it would be in coming to her, and how she
+would stand up under the strain of the half score of years or more that
+conceivably might be left to the man she had married. There had been times
+when he laughed in secret anticipation of the probabilities that attended
+her unwholesome adventure. Years of it! Years of bondage before she could
+lay hands upon the hard-earned fruits of freedom!
+
+As he entered the hall Anne came out of the library to greet him. There
+was no hesitation on her part, no pretending. She came directly to him,
+her hand extended. He had stopped stock-still on seeing her.
+
+"I am glad you have come, Braden," she said, letting her hand fall to her
+side. Either he had ignored it or was too dismayed to notice it at all.
+"Mr. Thorpe has waited long and patiently for you. I am glad you have
+come."
+
+He was staring at her, transfixed. There was no change in her appearance.
+She was just as he had seen her on that last, never-to-be-forgotten
+day,--the same tall, slender, beautiful Anne. And yet, as he stared, he saw
+something in her eyes that had not been there before: the shadow of fear.
+
+"I must see him immediately," said he, and was at once conscious of a
+regret that he had not first said something kind to her. She had the
+stricken look in her eyes.
+
+"You will find him in his old room," she said quietly. "The nurse is a
+friend of yours, a Miss McKane."
+
+"Thank you." He turned away, but at the foot of the staircase paused. "Is
+there no hope?" he inquired. "Is it as bad as Wade--"
+
+"There is only one hope, Braden," she said, "and that is that he may die
+soon." Curiously, he was not shocked by this remark. He appreciated the
+depth of feeling behind it. She was thinking of Templeton Thorpe, not of
+herself.
+
+"I--I can't tell you how shocked, how grieved I am," he said. "It
+is--terrible."
+
+She drew a few steps nearer. "I want you to feel, Braden, that you are
+free to come and go--and to stay--in this house. I know that you have said
+you would not come here while I am its mistress. I am in no sense its
+mistress. I have no place here. If you prefer not to see me, I shall make
+it possible by remaining in my room. It is only fair that I should speak
+to you at once about--about this. That is why I waited here to see you. I
+may as well tell you that Mr. Thorpe does not expect me to visit his
+room,--in fact, he undoubtedly prefers that I should not do so. I have
+tried to help him. I have done my best, Braden. I want you to know that.
+It is possible that he may tell you as much. Your place is here. You must
+not regard me an obstacle. It will not be necessary for you to communicate
+with me. I shall understand. Dr. Bates keeps me fully informed." She spoke
+without the slightest trace of bitterness.
+
+He heard her to the end without lifting his gaze from the floor. When she
+was through, he looked at her.
+
+"You _are_ the mistress of the house, Anne. I shall not overlook the fact,
+even though you may. If my grandfather wishes me to do so, I shall remain
+here in the house with him--to the end, not simply as his relative, but to
+do what little I can in a professional way. Why was I not informed of his
+condition?" His manner was stern.
+
+"You must ask that question of Mr. Thorpe himself," said she. "As I have
+told you, he is the master of the house. The rules are his, not mine; and,
+by the same token, the commands are his."
+
+He hesitated for a moment. "You might have sent word to me. Why didn't
+you?"
+
+"Because I was under orders," she said steadily. "Mr. Thorpe would not
+allow us to send for you. There was an excellent purpose back of his
+decision to keep you on the other side of the Atlantic until you were
+ready to return of your own accord. I daresay, if you reflect for a
+moment, you will see through his motives."
+
+His eyes narrowed. "There was no cause for apprehension," he said coldly.
+
+"It was something I could not discuss with him, however," she returned,
+"and so I was hardly in a position to advise him. You must believe me,
+Braden, when I say that I am glad for his sake that you are here. He will
+die happily now."
+
+"He has suffered--so terribly?"
+
+"It has been too horrible,--too horrible," she cried, suddenly covering her
+eyes and shivering as with a great chill.
+
+The tears rushed to Braden's eyes. "Poor old granddaddy," he murmured.
+Then, after a second's hesitation, he turned and swiftly mounted the
+stairs.
+
+Anne, watching him from below, was saying to herself, over and over again:
+"He will never forgive me, he will never forgive me." Later on, alone in
+the gloomy library, she sat staring at the curtained window through which
+the daylight came darkly, and passed final judgment upon herself after
+months of indecision: "I have been too sure of myself, too sure of him.
+What a fool I've been to count on a thing that is so easily killed. What a
+fool I've been to go on believing that his love would survive in spite of
+the blow I've given it. I've lost him. I may as well say farewell to the
+silly hope I've been coddling all these months." She frowned as she
+allowed her thoughts to run into another channel. "But they shall not
+laugh at me. I'll play the game out. No whimpering, old girl. Stand up to
+it."
+
+Wade was waiting outside his master's door, his ear cocked as of old. The
+same patient, obsequious smile greeted Braden as he came up.
+
+"He knows you are here, Mr. Braden. I sent in word by the nurse."
+
+"He is conscious?"
+
+"Yes, sir. That's the worst of it. Always conscious, sir."
+
+"Then he can't be as near to death as you think, Wade. He--"
+
+"That's a pity, sir," said Wade frankly. "I was in hopes that it would
+soon be all over for him."
+
+"Am I to go in at once?"
+
+"May I have a word or two with you first, sir?" said Wade, lowering his
+voice to a whisper and sending an uneasy glance over his shoulder. "Come
+this way, sir. It's safer over here. Uncommonly sharp ears he has, sir."
+
+"Well, what is it? I must not be delayed--"
+
+"I shan't keep you a minute, Mr. Braden. It's something I feel I ought to
+tell you. Mr. Thorpe is quite in his right mind, sir, so you'll appreciate
+more fully what a shock his proposition was to me. In a word, Mr. Braden,
+he has offered me a great sum of money if I'll put four of those little
+pills into a glass of water to-night and give it to him to drink. There's
+enough poison in them to kill three men in a flash, sir. My God, Mr.
+Braden, it was--it was terrible!" The man's face was livid.
+
+"A great sum of money--" began Braden dumbly. Then the truth struck him
+like a blow in the face. "Good God, Wade,--he--he wanted you to _kill_ him!"
+
+"That's it, sir, that's it," whispered Wade jerkily. "He has an envelope
+up there with fifty thousand dollars in it. He had me count them a week
+ago, right before his eyes, and hide the envelope in a drawer. You see how
+he trusts me, sir? He knows that I could rob him to-night if I wanted to
+do so. Or what's to prevent my making off with the money after he's gone?
+Nobody would ever know. But he knows me too well. He trusts me. I was to
+give him the poison the night after you got home, and I would never be
+suspected of doing it because the pills have been lying on his table for
+weeks, ready for him to take at any time. Every one might say that he took
+them himself, don't you see?"
+
+"Then, in God's name, why doesn't he take them,--why does he ask you to
+give them to him?" cried Braden, an icy perspiration on his brow.
+
+"That's the very point, sir," explained Wade. "He says he has tried to do
+it, but--well, he just can't, sir. Mr. Thorpe is a God-fearing man. He will
+not take his own life. He--he says he believes there is a hell, Mr. Braden.
+I just wanted to tell you that I--I can't do what he asks me to do. Not for
+all the money in the world. He seems to think that I don't believe there
+is a hell. Anyhow, sir, he appears to think it would be quite all right
+for me to kill a fellow man. Beg pardon, sir; I forgot that you have been
+writing all these articles about--"
+
+"It's all right, Wade," interrupted Braden. "Tell me, has he made this
+proposition to any one else? To the nurses, to Murray--any one?"
+
+Wade hesitated. "I'm quite sure he hasn't appealed to any one but me, sir,
+except--that is to say--"
+
+"Who else?"
+
+"He told me plainly that he couldn't ask any of the nurses to do it,
+because he thought it ought to be done by a friend or a--member of the
+family. The doctors, of course, might do it unbeknownst to him, but they
+won't, sir."
+
+"Whom else did he speak to about it?" insisted Braden.
+
+"I can't be sure, but I think he has spoken to Mrs. Thorpe a good many
+times about it. Every time she is alone with him, in fact, sir. I've heard
+him pleading with her,--yes, and cursing her, too,--and her voice is always
+full of horror when she says 'No, no! I will not do it! I cannot!' You
+see, sir, I always stand here by the door, waiting to be called, so I
+catch snatches of conversation when their voices are raised. Besides,
+she's always as white as a sheet when she comes out, and two or three
+times she has actually run to her room as if she was afraid he was
+pursuing her. I can't help feeling, Mr. Braden, that he considers her a
+member of the family, and so long as I won't do it, he--"
+
+"Good God, Wade! Don't say anything more! I--" His knees suddenly seemed
+about to give way under him. He went on in a hoarse whisper: "Why, I--I am
+a member of the family. You don't suppose he'll--you don't suppose--"
+
+"I just thought I'd tell you, sir," broke in Wade, "so's you might be
+prepared. Will you go in now, sir? He is most eager to see you."
+
+Braden entered the room, sick with horror. A member of the family! A
+member of the family to do the killing!
+
+He was shocked by the appearance of the sick old man. Templeton Thorpe had
+wasted to a thin, greyish shadow. His lips were as white as his cheek, and
+that was the colour of chalk. Only his eyes were bright and gleaming with
+the life that remained to him. The grip of his hand was strong and firm,
+and his voice, too, was steady.
+
+"I've been waiting for you, Braden, my boy," said Mr. Thorpe, some time
+after the greetings. He turned himself weakly in the bed and, drawing a
+little nearer to the edge, lowered his voice to a more confidential tone.
+His eyes were burning, his lips drawn tightly across his teeth,--for even
+at his age Templeton Thorpe was not a toothless thing. They were alone in
+the room. The nurse had seized upon the prospect of a short respite.
+
+"I wish I had known, granddaddy," lamented Braden. "You should have sent
+for me long ago."
+
+"That is the fifth or sixth time you've made that remark in the last ten
+minutes," said Mr. Thorpe, a querulous note stealing into his voice.
+"Don't say it again. By the way, suppose that I had sent for you: what
+could you have done? What good could you have done? Answer me that."
+
+"There is no telling, sir. At least, I could have done my share of
+the--that is to say, I might have been useful in a great many ways. You may
+be sure, sir, that I should have been in constant attendance. I should
+have been on hand night and day."
+
+"You would have assisted Anne in the death watch, eh?" said Mr. Thorpe,
+with a ghastly smile.
+
+"Don't say that, sir," cried Braden, flinching.
+
+"I may not have the opportunity to speak with you again,
+Braden,--privately, I mean,--and, as my time is short, I want to confess to
+you that I have been agreeably surprised in Anne. She has tried to do her
+best. She has not neglected me. She regards me as a human being in great
+pain, and I am beginning to think that she has a heart. There is the bare
+possibility, my boy, that she might have made you a good wife if I had not
+put temptation in her way. In any event, she would not have dishonoured
+you. It goes without saying that she has been wife to me in name only. You
+may find some comfort in that. In the past few weeks I have laid even
+greater temptations before her and she has not fallen. I cannot explain
+further to you, but--" here he smiled wanly--"some day she may tell you in
+the inevitable attempt to justify herself and win back what she has lost.
+Don't interrupt me, please. She _will_ try, never fear, and you will have
+to be strong to resist her. I know what you would say to me, so don't say
+it. You are horrified by the thought of it, but the day will come when you
+must again raise your hand against the woman who loves you. Make no
+mistake, Braden; she loves you."
+
+"I believe I would strike her dead if she made the slightest appeal to--"
+
+"Never mind," snapped the old man. "I know you well enough to credit you
+with self-respect, if not self-abnegation. What I am trying to get at is
+this: do you hold a grudge against me for revealing this girl's true
+character to you?"
+
+"I must ask you to excuse me from answering that question, grandfather,"
+said Braden, compressing his lips.
+
+The old man eyed him closely. "Is that an admission that you think I have
+wronged you in saving you from the vampires?" he persisted ironically.
+
+"I cannot discuss your wife with you, sir," said the other.
+
+Mr. Thorpe continued to regard his grandson narrowly for a moment or two
+longer, and then a look of relief came into his eyes. "I see. I shouldn't
+have asked it of you. Nevertheless, I am satisfied. My experiment is a
+success. You are qualified to distinguish between the Tresslyn greed and
+the Tresslyn love, so I have not failed. They put the one above the other
+and so far they have trusted to luck. If Anne had spurned my money I
+haven't the slightest doubt that she would have married you and made you a
+good wife. The fact that she did not spurn my money would seem to prove
+that she wouldn't make anybody a good wife. I know all this is painful to
+you, my boy, but I must say it to you before I die. You see I am dying.
+That's quite apparent, even to the idiots who are trying to keep me alive.
+They do not fool me with their: 'Aha, Mr. Thorpe, how are we to-day?
+Better, eh?' I am dying by inches,--fractions of inches, to be precise." He
+stopped short, out of breath after this long speech.
+
+Braden laid his hand upon the bony fore-arm. "How long have you known,
+granddaddy, that you had this--this--"
+
+"Cancer? Say it, my boy. I'm not afraid of the word. Most people are. It's
+a dreadful word. How can I answer your question? Years, no doubt. It
+became active a year and a half ago. I knew what it was, even then."
+
+"In heaven's name, sir, why did you let it go on? An operation at that
+time might have--"
+
+"You forget that I could afford to wait. When a man gets to be as old as I
+am he can philosophise even in the matter of death. What is a year or two,
+one way or the other, to me? An operation is either an experiment or a
+last resort, isn't it? Well, my boy, I preferred to look upon it as a last
+resort, and as such I concluded to put it off until the last minute, when
+it wouldn't make any difference which way it resulted. If it had resulted
+fatally a year and a half ago, what would I have gained? If it should take
+place to-morrow, with the same result, haven't I cheated Time out of
+eighteen months?"
+
+"But the pain, the suffering," cried Braden. "You might at least have
+spared yourself the whole lifetime of pain that you have lived in these
+last few months. You haven't cheated pain out of its year and a half."
+
+"True," said Mr. Thorpe, his lips twitching with the pain he was trying to
+defy; "I have not been able to laugh at the futility of pain. Ah!" It was
+almost a scream that issued from between his stretched lips. He began to
+writhe....
+
+"Come in again to-night," he said half an hour later, whispering the words
+with difficulty. The two nurses and the doctor's assistant, who had been
+staying in the house for more than a week, now stood back from the
+bedside, dripping with perspiration. The paroxysm had been one of the
+worst he had experienced. They had believed for a time that it was also to
+be the last. Braden Thorpe, shaking like a leaf because of the very
+inactivity that was forced upon him by the activity of others, wiped the
+sweat from his brow, and nodded his head in speechless despair. "Come in
+to-night, after you've talked with Anne and Dr. Bates. I'm easier now. It
+can't go on much longer, you see. Bates gives me a couple of weeks. That
+means a couple of centuries of pain, however. Go now and talk it over with
+Anne."
+
+With this singular admonition pounding away at his senses, Braden went out
+of the room. Wade,--the ever-present Wade,--was outside the door. His
+expression was as calmly attentive as it would have been were his master
+yawning after a healthy nap instead of screaming with all the tortures of
+the damned. As Braden hurried by, hardly knowing whither he went, the
+servant did something he had never done before in his life. He ventured to
+lay a detaining hand upon the arm of a superior.
+
+"Did he ask you to--to do it, Master Braden?" he whispered hoarsely. The
+man's eyes were glazed with dread.
+
+Braden stopped. At first he did not comprehend. Then Wade's meaning was
+suddenly revealed to him. He drew back, aghast.
+
+"Good Lord, no! No, no!" he cried out.
+
+"Well," said Wade deliberately, "he will, mark my words, sir. I don't mind
+saying to you, Mr. Braden, that he _depends_ upon you."
+
+"Are you crazy, Wade?" gasped Braden, searching the man's face with an
+intentness that betrayed his own fear that the prophecy would come true.
+Something had already told him that his grandfather would depend upon him
+for complete relief,--and it was that something that had gripped his heart
+when he entered the sick-room, and still gripped it with all the infernal
+tenacity of inevitableness.
+
+He hurried on, like one hunted and in search of a place in which to hide
+until the chase had passed. At the foot of the stairs he came upon Murray,
+the butler.
+
+"Mrs. Thorpe says that you are to go to your old room, Mr. Braden," said
+the butler. "Will you care for tea, sir, or would you prefer something a
+little stronger?"
+
+"Nothing, Murray, thank you," replied Braden, cold with a strange new
+terror. He could not put aside the impression that Murray, the bibulous
+Murray, was also regarding him in the light of an executioner. Somewhere
+back in his memory there was aroused an old story about the citizens who
+sat up all night to watch for the coming of the hangman who was to do a
+grewsome thing at dawn. He tried to shake off the feeling, he tried to
+laugh at the fantastic notion that had so swiftly assailed him. "I think I
+shall go to my room. Call me, if I am needed."
+
+He did not want to see Anne. He shrank from the revelations that were
+certain to come from the harassed wife of the old man who wanted to die.
+As he remounted the stairs, he was subtly aware that some one opened a
+door below and watched him as he fled. He did not look behind, but he knew
+that the watcher was white-faced and pleading, and that she too was
+counting on him for support.
+
+An hour later, a servant knocked at his door. The afternoon was far gone
+and the sky was overcast with sinister streaks of clouds that did not
+move, but hung like vast Zeppelins over the harbour beyond: long, blue-
+black clouds with white bellies. Mournful clouds that waited for the time
+to come when they could burst into tears! He had been watching them as
+they crept up over the Jersey shores, great stealthy birds of ill-omen,
+giving out no sound yet ponderous in their flight. He started at the
+gentle tapping on his door; a strange hope possessed his soul. Was this a
+friendly hand that knocked? Was its owner bringing him the word that the
+end had come and that he would not be called upon to deny the great
+request? He sprang to the door.
+
+"Dr. Bates is below, sir," said the maid. "He would like to see you before
+he goes."
+
+Braden's heart sank. "I'll come at once, Katie."
+
+There were three doctors in the library. Dr. Bates went straight to the
+point.
+
+"Your grandfather, Braden, has a very short time to live. He has just
+dismissed us. Our services are no longer required in this case, if I--"
+
+"Dismissed you?" cried Braden, unbelievingly.
+
+Dr. Bates smiled. "We can do nothing more for him, my boy. It is just as
+well that we should go. He--"
+
+"But, my God, sir, you cannot leave him to die in--"
+
+"Have patience, my lad. We are not leaving him to die alone. By his
+express command, we are turning the case over to you. You are to be his
+sole--"
+
+"I refuse!" shouted Braden.
+
+"You cannot refuse,--you will not, I am sure. For your benefit I may say
+that the case is absolutely hopeless. Not even a miracle can save him. If
+you will give me your closest attention, I will, with Dr. Bray's support,
+describe his condition and all that has led up to this unhappy crisis. Sit
+down, my boy. I am your good friend. I am not your critic, nor your
+traducer. Sit down and listen calmly, if you can. You should know just
+what is before you, and you must also know that every surgeon who has been
+called in consultation expresses but one opinion. In truth, it is not an
+opinion that they venture, but an unqualified decision."
+
+For a long time Braden sat as if paralysed and listened to the words of
+the fine old doctor. At last the three arose and stood over him.
+
+"You understand everything now, Braden," said Dr. Bates, a tremor in his
+voice. "May God direct your course. We shall not come here again. You are
+not to feel that we are deserting you, however, for that is not true. We
+go because you have come, because you have been put in sole charge. And
+now, my boy, I have something else to say to you as an old friend. I know
+your views. Not I alone, but Dr. Bray and thousands of others, have felt
+as you feel about such things. There have been countless instances, like
+the one at hand, when we have wished that we might be faithless to the
+tenets of a noble profession. But we have never faltered. It is not our
+province to be merciful, if I may put it in that way, but to be
+conscientious. It is our duty to save, not to destroy. That is what binds
+every doctor to his patient. Take the advice of an old man, Braden, and
+don't allow your pity to run away with your soul. Take my advice, lad. Let
+God do the deliberate killing. He will do it in his own good time, for all
+of us. I speak frankly, for I know you consider me your friend and well-
+wisher."
+
+"Thank you, Dr. Bates," said Braden, hoarsely. "The advice is not needed,
+however. I am not a murderer. I could not kill that poor old man upstairs,
+no matter how dreadfully he suffers. I fear that you have overlooked the
+fact that I am an advocate, not a performer, of merciful deeds. You should
+not confuse my views with my practice. I advocate legalising the
+destruction of the hopelessly afflicted. Inasmuch as it is not a legal
+thing to do at present, I shall continue to practise my profession as all
+the rest of you do: conscientiously." He was standing before them. His
+face was white and his hands were clenched.
+
+"I am glad to hear you say that, Braden," said Dr. Bates gently. "Forgive
+me. One last word, however. If you need me at any time, I stand ready to
+come to you. If you conclude to operate, I--I shall advise against it, of
+course,--you may depend upon me to be with you when you--"
+
+"But you have said, Dr. Bates, that you do not believe an operation would
+be of--"
+
+"In my opinion it would be fatal. But you must not forget that God rules,
+not we mortals. We do not know everything. I am frank to confess that
+there is not one among us who is willing to take the chance, if that is a
+guide to you. That's all, my boy. Good-bye. God be with you!"
+
+They passed out of and away from the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+In the course of the evening, desolated by the ugly responsibility that
+had been thrust upon him, Braden put aside his scruples, his antipathy,
+and sent word to Anne that he would like to discuss the new situation with
+her. She had not appeared for dinner, which was a doleful affair; she did
+not even favour him with an apology for not coming down. Distasteful as
+the interview promised to be for him, he realised that it should not be
+postponed. His grandfather's wife would have to be consulted. It was her
+right to decide who should attend the sick man. While he was acutely
+confident that she would not oppose his solitary attendance, there still
+struggled in his soul the hope that she might, for the sake of appearances
+at least, insist on calling in other physicians. It was a hope that he
+dared not encourage, however. Fate had settled the matter. It was ordained
+that he should stand where he now stood in this unhappy hour.
+
+He recalled his grandfather's declaration that she still loved him. The
+thought turned him sick with loathing, for he believed in his heart that
+it was true. He knew that Anne loved him, and always would love him. But
+he also knew that every vestige of love and respect for her had gone out
+of his heart long ago and that he now felt only the bitterness of
+disillusionment so far as she was concerned. He was not afraid of her. She
+had lost all power to move a single drop of blood in his veins. But he was
+afraid _for_ her.
+
+She came downstairs at nine o'clock. He had not gone near the sick-room
+since his initial visit, earlier in the day, literally obeying the command
+of the sick man: to talk matters over with Anne before coming again to see
+him.
+
+"I am sorry to have kept you waiting," she said simply, as she advanced
+into the room. "I have been talking over the telephone with my mother. She
+does not come here any more. It has been nearly three weeks since she last
+came to see me. The dread of it all, don't you know. She is positive that
+she has all of the symptoms. I suppose it is a not uncommon fault of the
+imagination. Of course, I go to see her every afternoon. I see no one
+else, Braden, except good old Simmy Dodge. He stops in nearly every day to
+inquire, and to cheer me up if possible."
+
+She was attired in a simple evening gown,--an old one, she hastily would
+have informed a woman visitor,--and it was hard for him to believe that
+this was not the lovely, riant Anne Tresslyn of a year ago instead of the
+hardened mistress of Templeton Thorpe's home. There was no sign of
+confusion or uncertainty in her manner, and not the remotest indication
+that her heart still owned love for him. If she retained a spark of the
+old flame in that beautiful body of hers, it was very carefully secreted
+behind a mask of indifference. She met his gaze frankly, unswervingly. Her
+poise was perfect,--marvellously so in the face of his ill-concealed
+antipathy.
+
+"I suppose you know that I have been left in sole charge of the case," he
+said, without preface.
+
+"Oh, yes," she replied calmly. "It was Mr. Thorpe's desire."
+
+"And yours?"
+
+"Certainly. Were you hoping that I would interpose an objection?"
+
+"Yes. I am not qualified to take charge of--"
+
+"Pardon me, Braden, if I remind you, that so far as Mr. Thorpe's chances
+for recovery are concerned, he might safely be attended by the simplest
+novice. The result would be the same." She spoke without a trace of irony.
+"Dr. Bates and the others were willing to continue, but what was the use?
+They do not leave you a thing to stand on, Braden. There is nothing that
+you can do. I am sorry. It seems a pity for you to have come home to
+this."
+
+He smiled faintly, whether at her use of the word "home" or the prospect
+she laid down for him it would be difficult to say.
+
+"Shall we sit down, Anne, and discuss the situation?" he said. "It is one
+of my grandfather's orders, so I suppose we shall have to obey."
+
+She sank gracefully into a deep chair at the foot of the library table,
+and motioned for him to take one near-by. The light from the chandelier
+fell upon her brown hair, and glinted.
+
+"It is very strange, Braden, that we should come into each other's lives
+again, and in this manner. It seems so long ago--"
+
+"Is it necessary to discuss ourselves, Anne?"
+
+She regarded him steadily. "Yes, I think so," she said. "We must at least
+convince ourselves that the past has no right to interfere with or
+overshadow what we may choose to call the present,--or the future, for that
+matter, if I may look a little farther ahead. The fact remains that we are
+here together, Braden, in spite of all that has happened, and we must make
+the best of it. The world,--our own little world, I mean,--will be watching
+us. We must watch ourselves. Oh, don't misconstrue that remark, please. We
+must see to it that the world does not judge us entirely by our past." She
+was very cool about it, he thought,--and confident.
+
+"As I said before, Anne, I see no occasion to--"
+
+"Very well," she interrupted. "I beg your pardon. You asked me to see you
+to-night. What is it that you wish to say to me?"
+
+He leaned forward in the chair, his elbows on the arms of it, and regarded
+her fixedly. "Has my grandfather ever appealed to you to--to--" He stopped,
+for she had turned deathly pale; she closed her eyes tightly as if to shut
+out some visible horror; a perceptible shudder ran through her slender
+body. As Braden started to rise, she raised her eye-lids, and in her
+lovely eyes he saw horror, dread, appeal, all in one. "I'm sorry," he
+murmured, in distress "I should have been more--"
+
+"It's all right," she said, recovering herself with an effort. "I thought
+I had prepared myself for the question you were so sure to ask. I have
+been through hell in the past two weeks, Braden. I have had to listen to
+the most infamous proposals--but perhaps it would be better for me to
+repeat them to you just as they were made to me, and let you judge for
+yourself."
+
+She leaned back in the chair, as if suddenly tired. Her voice was low and
+tense, and at no time during her recital did she raise it above the level
+at which she started. Plainly, she was under a severe strain and was
+afraid that she might lose control of herself.
+
+It appeared that Mr. Thorpe had put her to the supreme test. In brief, he
+had called upon his young wife to put him out of his misery! Cunningly, he
+had beset her with the most amazing temptations. Her story was one of
+those incredible things that one cannot believe because the mind refuses
+to entertain the utterly revolting. In the beginning the old man, consumed
+by pain, implored her to perform a simple act of mercy. He told her of the
+four little pellets and the glass of water. At that time she treated the
+matter lightly. The next day he began his sly, persistent campaign against
+what he was pleased to call her inhumanity; he did not credit her with
+scruples. There was something Machiavellian in the sufferer's scheming. He
+declared that there could be no criminal intent on her part, therefore her
+conscience would never be afflicted. The fact that he consented to the act
+was enough to clear her conscience, if that was all that restrained her.
+She realised that he was in earnest now, and fled the room in horror.
+
+Then he tried to anger her with abuse and calumny to such an extent that
+she would be driven to the deed by sheer rage. Failing in this, he resumed
+his wheedling tactics. It would be impossible, he argued, for any one to
+know that she had given him the soothing poison. The doctors would always
+believe that he had overcome his prejudice against self-destruction and
+had taken the tablets, just as they intended and evidently desired him to
+do. But he would not take his own life. He would go on suffering for years
+before he would send his soul to purgatory by such an act. He believed in
+damnation. He had lived an honourable, upright life and he maintained that
+his soul was entitled to the salvation his body had earned for it by its
+resistance to the evils of the flesh. What, said he, could be more
+incompatible with a lifelong observance of God's laws than the commission
+of an act for which there could be no forgiveness, what more terrible than
+going into the presence of his maker with sin as his guide and advocate?
+His last breath of life drawn in sin!
+
+Day after day he whispered his wily arguments, and always she fled in
+horror. Her every hour was a nightmare, sleeping or waking. Her strength
+was shattered, yet she was compelled to withstand his daily attacks. He
+never failed to send for her to sit with him while the nurse took her
+exercise. He would have no one else. Ultimately he sought to tempt her
+with offers of gold! He agreed to add a codicil to his will, giving her an
+additional million dollars if she would perform a "simple service" for
+him. That was the way he styled it: a simple service! Merely the dropping
+of four little tablets into a tumbler of water and holding it to his lips
+to drain! Suicide with a distinction, murder by obligation! One of his
+arguments was that she would be free to marry the man she loved if he was
+out of the way. He did not utter the name of the man, however.
+
+Anne spoke to no one of these shocking encounters in the darkened sick-
+room. She would not have spoken to Braden but for her husband's command
+given no later than the hour before that she should do so.
+
+"Twice, Braden, I was tempted to do what he asked of me," she said in
+conclusion, almost in a whisper. "He was in such fearful agony. You will
+never know how he has suffered. My heart ached for him. I cannot
+understand how a good and gentle God can inflict such pain upon one of his
+creatures. Why should this Christian be crucified? But I must not say such
+things. Twice I came near to putting those tablets in the glass and giving
+it to him to drink, but both times I shrank even as I took them up from
+the table. I shall never forget the look of joy that came into his eyes
+when he saw me pick them up, nor shall I ever forget the look he gave me
+when I threw them down and put my fingers to my ears to shut out the sound
+of his moans. It would have been so easy to end it all for him. No one
+could have known, and he would have died thanking me for one good deed at
+least. Yesterday when I failed him for the second time, he made the most
+horrible confession to me. He said that when he married me a year ago he
+knew that this very crisis would come and that he had counted on me then
+as his deliverer! He actually said to me, Braden, that all this was in his
+mind when he married me. Can't you understand? If the time ever came when
+he wanted to die, who would be more likely to serve his purpose than the
+young, avaricious wife who loved another man? Oh, he was not thinking of
+your good, my friend,--at least, not entirely. He did not want you to throw
+yourself away on me, that's true, but your preservation was not his sole
+object, let me assure you. He planned deeper than we knew. He looked ahead
+for one year and saw what was coming, and he counted on me,--he counted on
+the wife he had bought. Once he asked me if I had the faintest idea how
+many wives have killed strong and healthy husbands in order that they
+might wed the men they loved better. If murderesses can do that, said he,
+why should I hesitate, when there could be no such thing as murder in
+my--oh, it was too terrible! Thank God, he thinks better of me now than he
+did on the day he married me. Even though he is your grandfather, Braden,
+I can say to you frankly that if taking his own life means going to hell
+for him, I would see him in hell before I would--"
+
+"Anne, Anne!" cried he, shaken. "Don't say it! It is too horrible. Think
+of what you were about to say and--"
+
+"Oh, I've thought, my friend," she broke in fiercely. "It is time for you
+to think of what he would have done for me. He would have sent me to hell
+in his place. Do you understand? Do you suppose that if I had killed him,
+even with mercy and kindness in my heart, I could ever have escaped from a
+hell on earth, no matter what God's judgment may have been hereafter?
+Would heaven after death affect the hell that came before?"
+
+"Do you believe that there is life beyond the grave?" he demanded. "Do you
+still believe that there is a heaven and a hell?"
+
+"Yes," she said firmly, "and down in your soul, Braden, you believe it
+too. We all believe it, even the scientists who scoff. We can't help
+believing it. It is that which makes good men and women of us, which keeps
+us as children to the end. It isn't honour or nobility of character that
+makes us righteous, but the fear of God. It isn't death that we dread. We
+shrink from the answer to the question we've asked all through life. Can
+you answer that question now?"
+
+"Of course not," he said, "nor can I solve the riddle of life. That is the
+great mystery. Death is simple. We know why we die but we don't know why
+we live."
+
+"The same mystery that precedes life also follows it," she said
+stubbornly. "The greatest scientist in the world was once a lifeless atom.
+He acknowledges that, doesn't he? So, my friend, there is something even
+vaster than the greatest of all intelligences, and that is ignorance. But
+we are wasting time. I have told you everything. You know just what I've
+been through. I don't ask for your sympathy, for you would be quite right
+in refusing to give it me. I made my bed, so there's the end of it. I am
+glad that you are here. The situation is in your hands, not mine."
+
+"What is there for me to do except to sit down, like you, and wait?" he
+groaned, in desperation.
+
+She was silent for a long time, evidently weighing her next remark. "What
+have you to say for your pet theory now, Braden?" she inquired, haltingly.
+
+"You may rest assured, Anne, that even were it legally possible, I should
+not put it into practice in this instance," he said coldly.
+
+Her face brightened. "Do you really mean it?"
+
+"I wish you and all the rest of them would understand that I am not
+setting myself up as a butcher--" he began hotly.
+
+"That is all I want to know," she cried, tremulously. "I have been
+dreading the--I have found myself wondering if _you_ would give him those
+tablets. Look me straight in the eye, Braden. You will not do that, will
+you?"
+
+"Never!" he exclaimed.
+
+"You don't know what that means to me," she said in a low voice. Again
+there was a long silence. He was studying her face, and queer notions were
+entering his brain. "Another question, please, and that is all. Can his
+life be prolonged by an operation?"
+
+"I am assured that he could not survive an operation."
+
+"He may ask you to--to perform one," she said, watching him closely.
+
+He hesitated. "You mean that he is willing to take the chance?"
+
+"I mean that he realises it will make no difference, one way or the other.
+The other doctors have refused to operate."
+
+"He will not ask me to operate," said Braden, but his soul shook within
+him as he spoke.
+
+"We shall see," said she strangely, and then arose. She came quite close
+to him. "I do not want you to operate, Braden. Any one but you. You must
+not take the--the chance. Now you would better go up to him. Tell him you
+have talked with me. He will understand. He may even speak a good word for
+me. Good night. Thank you for--for letting me speak with you to-night."
+
+She left the room. He stood quite still for a full minute, staring at the
+closed door. Then he passed his hand over his eyes as if to shut out the
+vision that remained. He knew now that his grandfather was right.
+
+In the hall upstairs he found Wade.
+
+"Time you were in bed," said Braden shortly. "Get a little rest, man. I am
+here now. You needn't worry."
+
+"He's been asking for you, sir. The nurse has been out here twice within
+the last ten minutes. Excuse me, Mr. Braden; may I have another word with
+you?" He did not lower his voice. Wade's voice was of a peculiarly
+unpenetrating character. Unless one _observed_ his speech it was scarcely
+audible, and yet one had a queer impression, at a glance, that he was
+speaking a little above the ordinary tone of voice. "Did Mrs. Thorpe tell
+you that her brother has been here to see Mr. Thorpe three times within a
+week?"
+
+Braden started. "She did not, Wade."
+
+"Why didn't she tell you, sir?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Well, sir, it is just this way: Mr. Thorpe sent for young Mr. Tresslyn
+last Friday afternoon. Considerable difficulty was had in finding him. He
+was just a wee bit tipsy when he got here at eight o'clock. Mrs. Thorpe
+did not see him, although Murray went to her room to tell her of his
+arrival. Young Mr. Tresslyn was in Mr. Thorpe's room for ten or fifteen
+minutes, and then left the house in a great hurry, sir. He came again on
+Saturday evening, and acted very queerly. Both times he was alone with Mr.
+Thorpe. Again he fairly rushed out of the house as if he was pursued by
+devils. Then he came on Sunday night, and the same thing happened. As he
+was going out, I spoke to him, and this is what he said to me,--scared-like
+and shaking all over, sir,--'I'm not coming here again, Wade. No more of it
+for me. Damn him! You tell my sister that I'm not coming again!' Then he
+went out, mumbling to himself. Right after that I went up to Mr. Thorpe.
+He was very angry. He gave orders that Mr. Tresslyn was not to be admitted
+again. It was then, sir, that he spoke to me about the money in the
+envelope. I have had a notion, sir, that the money was first intended for
+Mr. George Tresslyn, but he didn't like that way of earning it any more
+than I did. Rather strange, too, when you stop to think how badly he needs
+money and how low he's been getting these past few months. Poor chap, he--"
+
+"Now, Wade, you are guessing," interrupted Braden, with a sinking heart.
+"You have no right to surmise--"
+
+"Beg pardon, sir; I was only putting two and two together. I'm sorry. I
+dare say I am entirely wrong, perhaps a little bit out of my head because
+of the--Please, sir, do not misunderstand me. I would not for the world
+have you think that I connect Mrs. Thorpe with the business. I am sure
+that she had nothing whatever to do with her brother's visits
+here,--nothing at all, sir."
+
+Braden's blood was like ice water as he turned away from the man and
+entered his grandfather's room. The nurse was reading to the old man. With
+the young man's entrance, Mr. Thorpe cut her off brusquely and told her to
+leave the room.
+
+"Come here, Braden," he said, after the door had closed behind the woman.
+"Have you talked with Anne?"
+
+"Yes, grandfather."
+
+"She told you everything?"
+
+"I suppose so. It is terrible. You should not have made such demands--"
+
+"We won't go into that," said the other harshly, gripping his side with
+his claw-like hand. His face was contorted by pain. After a moment, he
+went on: "She's better than I thought, and so is that good-for-nothing
+brother of hers. I shall never forgive this scoundrel Wade though. He has
+been my servant, my slave for more than thirty years, and I know that he
+hasn't a shred of a conscience. While I think of it, I wish you would take
+this key and unlock the top drawer in my dressing table. See if there is
+an envelope there, will you? There is, eh? Open it. Count the bills,
+Braden."
+
+He lay back, with tightly closed eyes, while Braden counted the package of
+five hundred dollar bank-notes.
+
+"There are fifty thousand dollars here, grandfather," said the young man
+huskily.
+
+"'Pon my soul, they are more honest than I imagined. Well, well, the world
+is getting better."
+
+"What shall I do with this money, sir? You shouldn't have it lying around
+loose with all these--"
+
+"You may deposit it to my account in the Fifth Avenue Bank to-morrow. It
+is of absolutely no use to me now. Put it in your pocket. It will be quite
+safe with you, I dare say. You are all so inexcusably honest, confound
+you. Sit down. I want to tell you what I've finally decided to do. These
+surgeons say there is about one chance in a million for me, my boy. I've
+decided to take it."
+
+"Take it?" muttered Braden, knowing full well what was to come.
+
+"I have given you the finest education, the finest training that any young
+man ever had, Braden. You owe a great deal to me, I think you will admit.
+Never mind now. Don't thank me. I would not trust my one chance to any of
+these disinterested butchers. They would not care a rap whether I pulled
+through or not. With you, it is different. I believe you would--"
+
+"My God, grandfather, you are not going to ask me to--"
+
+"Sit still! Yes, I am going to ask you to give me that one chance in a
+million. If you fail, I shall not be here to complain. If you
+succeed,--well, you will have performed a miracle. You--"
+
+"But there is no possible chance,--not the slightest chance of success,"
+cried Braden, the cold sweat running down his face. "I can tell you in
+advance that it means death to--"
+
+"Nevertheless, it is worth trying, isn't it, my boy?" said Templeton
+Thorpe softly. "I demand it of you. You are my flesh and blood. You will
+not let me lie here and suffer like this for weeks and months. It is your
+duty to do what you can. It is your time to be merciful, my lad."
+
+Braden's face was in his hands. His body was shaking as if in convulsions.
+He could not look into the old man's eyes.
+
+"Send for Bates and Bray to-morrow. Tell them that you have decided to
+operate,--with my consent. They will understand. It must be done at once.
+You will not fail me. You will do this for your poor old granddaddy who
+has loved you well and who suffers to-day as no man in all this world has
+ever suffered before. I am in agony. Nothing stops the pain. Everything
+has failed. You _will_ do this for me, Braden?"
+
+The young man raised his haggard face. Infinite pity had succeeded horror
+in his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Simmy Dodge emerged from Sherry's at nine-thirty. He was leaving Mrs.
+Fenwick's dinner-dance in response to an appeal from Anne Thorpe, who had
+sent for him by messenger earlier in the evening. Simmy was reluctant
+about going down to the house off Washington Square; he was constituted as
+one of those who shrink from the unwholesomeness of death rather than from
+its terrors. He was fond of Anne, but in his soul he was abusing her for
+summoning him to bear witness to the final translation of old Templeton
+Thorpe from a warm, sensitive body, into a cold, unpleasant hulk. He had
+no doubt that he had been sent for to see the old man die. While he would
+not, for the world, have denied Anne in her hour of distress, he could not
+help wishing that she had put the thing off till to-morrow. Death doesn't
+appear so ugly in the daytime. One is spared the feeling that it is
+stealing up through the darkness of night to lay claim to its prey.
+
+Simmy shivered a little as he stood in front of Sherry's waiting for his
+car to come up. He made up his mind then and there that when it came time
+for him to die he would see to it that he did not do it in the night. For,
+despite the gay lights of the city, there were always sombre shadows for
+one to be jerked into by the relentless hand of death; there was something
+appalling about being dragged off into a darkness that was to be
+dissipated at sunrise, instead of lasting forever.
+
+He left behind him in one of the big private diningrooms a brilliant,
+high-spirited company of revellers. One of Mrs. Fenwick's guests was Lutie
+Tresslyn. He sat opposite her at one of the big round tables, and for an
+hour he had watched with moody eyes her charming, vivacious face as she
+conversed with the men on either side of her. She was as cool, as self-
+contained as any woman at the table. There was nothing to indicate that
+she had not been born to this estate of velvet, unless the freshness of
+her cheek and the brightness of her eye betrayed her by contrast with the
+unmistakable haggardness of "the real thing."
+
+She was unafraid. All at once Simmy was proud of her. He felt the thrill
+of something he could not on the moment define, but which he afterwards
+put down as patriotism! It was just the sort of thrill, he argued, that
+you have when the band plays at West Point and you see the cadets come
+marching toward you with their heads up and their chests out,--the thrill
+that leaves a smothering, unuttered cheer in your throat.
+
+He thought of Anne Tresslyn too, and smiled to himself. This was Anne
+Tresslyn's set, not Lutie's, and yet here she was, a trim little warrior,
+inside the walls of a fortified place, hobnobbing with the formidable army
+of occupation and staring holes through the uniforms of the General Staff!
+She sat in the Tresslyn camp, and there were no other Tresslyns there. She
+sat with the Wintermills, and--yes, he had to admit it,--she had winked at
+him slyly when she caught his eye early in the evening. It was a very
+small wink to be sure and was not repeated.
+
+The night was cold. His chauffeur was not to be found by the door-men who
+ran up and down the line from Fifth to Sixth Avenue for ten minutes before
+Simmy remembered that he had told the man not to come for him until three
+in the morning, an hour at which one might reasonably expect a dance to
+show signs of abating.
+
+He was on the point of ordering a taxi-cab when his attention was drawn to
+a figure that lurked well back in the shadows of the Berkeley Theatre down
+the street--a tall figure in a long ulster. Despite the darkness, Simmy's
+intense stare convinced him that it was George Tresslyn who stood over
+there and gazed from beneath lowered brows at the bright doorway. He
+experienced a chill that was not due to the raw west wind. There was
+something sinister about that big, motionless figure, something portentous
+of disaster. He knew that George had been going down the hill with
+startling rapidity. On more than one occasion he had tried to stay this
+downward rush, but without avail. Young Tresslyn was drinking, but he was
+not carousing. He drank as unhappy men drink, not as the happy ones do. He
+drank alone.
+
+For a few minutes Simmy watched this dark sentinel, and reflected. What
+was he doing over there? What was he up to? Was he waiting for Lutie to
+come forth from the fortified place? Was there murder and self-murder in
+the heart of this unhappy boy? Simmy was a little man but he was no
+coward. He did not hesitate long. He would have to act, and act promptly.
+He did not dare go away while that menacing figure remained on guard. The
+police, no doubt, would drive him away in time, but he would come back
+again. So Simmy Dodge squared his shoulders and marched across the street,
+to face what might turn out to be a ruthless lunatic--the kind one reads
+about, who kill their best friends, "and all that sort of thing."
+
+It was quite apparent that the watcher had been observing him. As Simmy
+came briskly across the street, Tresslyn moved out of his position near
+the awning and started westward, his shoulders hunched upward and his chin
+lowered with the evident desire to prevent recognition. Simmy called out
+to him. The other quickened his steps. He slouched but did not stagger, a
+circumstance which caused Simmy a sharp twinge of uneasiness. He was not
+intoxicated. Simmy's good sense told him that he would be more dangerous
+sober than drunk, but he did not falter. At the second shout, young
+Tresslyn stopped. His hands were thrust deep into his overcoat pockets.
+
+"What do you want?" he demanded thickly, as the dapper little man came up
+and extended his hand. Simmy was beaming, as if he suddenly had found a
+long lost friend and comrade. George took no notice of the friendly hand.
+He was staring hard, almost savagely at the other's face. Simmy was
+surprised to find that his cheeks, though sunken and haggard, were cleanly
+shaved, and his general appearance far from unprepossessing. In the light
+from a near-by window, the face was lowering but not inflamed; the eyes
+were heavy and tired-looking--but not bloodshot.
+
+"I thought I recognised you," said Simmy glibly.
+
+"Much obliged," said George, without the semblance of a smile.
+
+Simmy hesitated. Then he laid his hand on George's arm. "See here, George,
+this will not do. I think I know why you are here, and--it won't do, old
+chap."
+
+"If you were anybody else, Dodge, I'd beat your head off," said George
+slowly, as if amazed that he had not already done so. "Better go away,
+Simmy, and let me alone. I'm all right. I'm not doing any harm, am I,
+standing out here?"
+
+"What do you gain by standing here in the cold and--"
+
+"Never mind what I gain. That's my affair," said George, his voice shaking
+in spite of its forced gruffness.
+
+Simmy was undaunted. "Have you been drinking to-night?"
+
+"None of your damned business. What do you mean by--"
+
+"I am your friend, George," broke in Simmy earnestly. "I can see now that
+you've had a drink or two, and you--"
+
+"I'm as sober as you are!"
+
+"More so, I fear. I've had champagne. You--"
+
+"I am not drunk all of the time, you know," snarled George.
+
+"Well, I'm glad to hear it," said Simmy cheerfully.
+
+"I hate the stuff,--hate it worse than anything on earth except being
+sober. Good night, Simmy," he broke off abruptly.
+
+"That dance in there won't be over before three o'clock," said Simmy
+shrewdly. "You're in for a long wait, my lad."
+
+George groaned. "Good Lord, is it--is it a dance? The papers said it was a
+dinner for Lord and Lady--"
+
+"Better come along with me, George," interrupted Simmy quietly. "I'm going
+down to Anne's. She has sent for me. It's the end, I fancy. That's where
+you ought to be to-night, Tresslyn. She needs you. Come--"
+
+Young Tresslyn drew back, a look of horror in his eyes. "Not if I know
+myself," he muttered. "You'll never get me inside that house again.
+Why,--why, it's more than I could stand, Simmy. That old man tried--but,
+never mind. I can't talk about it. There's one thing sure, though: I
+wouldn't go near him again for all the money in New York,--not I."
+
+"I sha'n't insist, of course. But I do insist on your getting away from
+here. You are not to annoy Lutie. She's had trouble enough and you ought
+to be man enough to let her alone."
+
+George stared at him as if he had not heard aright. "Annoy her? What the
+devil are you talking about?"
+
+"You know what I'm talking about. Oh, don't glare at me like that. I'm not
+afraid of you, big as you are. I'm trying to put sense into your head,
+that's all, and you'll thank me for it later on, too."
+
+"Why, I--I wouldn't annoy her for all the world, Simmy," said George,
+jerkily. "What do you take me for? What kind of a--"
+
+"Then, why are you here?" demanded Simmy "It looks bad, George. If it
+isn't Lutie, who is it you're after?"
+
+The other appeared to be dazed. "I'm not after any one," he mumbled.
+Suddenly he gripped Simmy by the shoulders and bent a white, scowling face
+down to the little man's level. "My God, Simmy, I--I can't help it. That's
+all there is to it. I just want to see her--just want to look at her. Can't
+you understand? But of course you can't. You couldn't know what it means
+to love a girl as I love her. It isn't in you. Annoy her? I'd cut my heart
+out first. What business is it of yours if I choose to stand out here all
+night just for a glimpse of her in all her happiness, all her triumph, all
+that she's got because she deserves it? Oh, I'm sober enough, so don't
+think it's that. Now, you let me alone. Get out of this, Simmy. I know
+what I'm doing and I don't want any advice from you. She won't know I'm
+over here when she comes out of that place, and what she doesn't know
+isn't going to bother her. She doesn't know that I sneak around like this
+to get a look at her whenever it's possible, and I don't want her to know
+it. It would worry her. It might--frighten her, Simmy, and God knows I
+wouldn't harm her by word or deed for anything on earth. Only she wouldn't
+understand. D'you see?" He shook Simmy as a dog would have shaken a rat,
+not in anger but to emphasise his seriousness.
+
+"By Jove, George,--I'd like to believe that of you," chattered Simmy.
+
+"Well, you can believe it. I'm not ashamed to confess what I'm doing. You
+may call me a baby, a fool, a crank or whatever you like,--I don't care.
+I've just got to see her, and this is the only way. Do you think I'd spoil
+things for her, now that she's made good? Think I'd butt in and queer it
+all? I'm no good, I'm a rotter, and I'm going to the devil as fast as I
+know how, Simmy. That's my affair, too. But I'm not mean enough to
+begrudge her the happiness she's found in spite of all us damned
+Tresslyns. Now, run along, Simmy, and don't worry about anything happening
+to her,--at least, so far as I'm concerned. She'll probably have her work
+cut out defending herself against some of her fine gentlemen, some of the
+respectable rotters in there. But she'll manage all right. She's the right
+sort, and she's had her lesson already. She won't be fooled again."
+
+Simmy's amazement had given way to concern. "Upon my word, George, I'm
+sorry for you. I had no idea that you felt as you do. It's too darned bad.
+I wish it could have been different with you two."
+
+"It could have been, as I've said before, if I'd had the back-bone of a
+caterpillar."
+
+"If you still love her as deeply as all this, why--"
+
+"Love her? Why, if she were to come out here this instant and smile on me,
+Simmy, I'd--I'd--God, I don't know what I'd do!" He drooped his head
+dejectedly, and Simmy saw that he was shaking.
+
+"It's too bad," said Simmy again, blinking. For a long time the two of
+them stood there, side by side, looking at the bright doorway across the
+street. Simmy was thinking hard. "See here, old fellow," he said at last,
+profoundly moved, "why don't you buck up and try to make something of
+yourself? It isn't too late. Do something that will make her proud of you.
+Do--"
+
+"Proud of me, eh?" sneered George. "The only thing I could do would be to
+jump into the river with my hands tied. She'd be proud of me for that."
+
+"Nonsense. Now listen to me. You don't want her to know that you've been
+put in jail, do you?"
+
+"What am I doing that would get me into jail?"
+
+"Loitering. Loafing suspiciously. Drinking. A lot of things, my boy.
+They'll nab you if you hang around here till three o'clock. You saw her go
+in, didn't you?"
+
+"Yes. She--she happened to turn her face this way when she got to the top
+of the steps. Saying something to the people she was with. God, I--she's
+the loveliest thing in--" He stopped short, and put his hand to his eyes.
+
+Simmy's grip tightened on George's arm, and then for five minutes he
+argued almost desperately with the younger man. In the end, Tresslyn
+agreed to go home. He would not go to Anne's.
+
+"And you'll not touch another drop to-night?" said Dodge, as they crossed
+over to the line of taxi-cabs.
+
+George halted. "Say, what's on your mind, Simmy? Are you afraid I'll go
+off my nut and create a scene,--perhaps mop up the sidewalk with some one
+like Percy Wintermill or--well, any one of those nuts in there? That the
+idea you've got? Well, let me set you right, my boy. If I ever do anything
+like that it will not be with Lutie as the excuse. I'll not drag her name
+into it. Mind you, I'm not saying I'll never smash some one's head, but--"
+
+"I didn't mean that, at all," said Simmy.
+
+"And you needn't preach temperance to me," went on George. "I know that
+liquor isn't good for me. I hate the stuff, as a matter of fact. I know
+what it does to a man who has been an athlete. It gets him quicker than it
+gets any one else. But the liquor makes me forget that I'm no good. It
+makes me think I'm the biggest, bravest and best man in the world, and God
+knows I'm not. When I get enough of the stuff inside of me, I imagine that
+I'm good enough for Lutie. It's the only joy I have, this thinking that
+I'm as decent as anybody, and the only time I think I'm decent is when I'm
+so damned drunk that I don't know anything at all. Tell him to take me to
+Meikelham's hotel. Good night. You're all right, Simmy."
+
+"To Meikelham's? I want you to go home, George."
+
+"Well, that's home for me at present. Rotten place, believe me, but it's
+the best I can get for a dollar a day," grated George.
+
+"I thought you were living with your mother?"
+
+"No. Kicked out. That was six weeks ago. Couldn't stand seeing me around.
+I don't blame her, either. But that's none of your business, Simmy, so
+don't say another word."
+
+"It's pretty rough, that's all."
+
+"On me--or her?"
+
+"Both of you," said Simmy sharply. "I say, come over and see me to-morrow
+afternoon, George,--at three o'clock. Sober, if you don't mind. I've got
+something to say to you--"
+
+"No use, Simmy," sighed George.
+
+"You are fond of Anne, aren't you?"
+
+"Certainly. What's that got to do with it?"
+
+"She may need you soon. You must be ready, that's all. See what I mean?"
+
+"Moral support, eh?" scoffed George.
+
+"You are her brother."
+
+"Right you are," said the other soberly. "I'll be on hand, Simmy, if I'm
+needed. Tell Anne, will you? I'll stick it out for a few days if it will
+help her."
+
+"There is a lot of good in you, George," said Simmy, engagingly. "I don't
+mind telling you that Lutie says the same thing about you. She has said to
+me more than once that--"
+
+"Oh, don't lie to me!" snarled young Tresslyn, but Simmy did not fail to
+note the quickening of interest in his sullen eyes.
+
+"More than once," he went on, following up the advantage, "she has
+expressed the opinion that with half a chance you would have been more
+than half a man."
+
+"'Gad," said George, wonderingly, "I--I can almost believe you now. That's
+just the way she would have put it. God knows, Simmy, you are not smart
+enough to have said it out of your own head. She really thinks that, does
+she?"
+
+"We'll talk it over to-morrow," said the other, quite well pleased with
+himself. Young Tresslyn was breathing heavily, as if his great lungs had
+expanded beyond their normal capacity. "Move along now."
+
+"If I thought--" began George, but Simmy had slammed the door and was
+directing the chauffeur where to take his fare.
+
+Half an hour later, Mrs. Fenwick's tables were deserted and the dance was
+on. Simmy Dodge, awaiting the moment of dispersion, lost no time in
+seeking Lutie. He had delayed his departure for Anne's home, and had been
+chafing through a long half-hour in the lounge downstairs. She was dancing
+with Percy Wintermill.
+
+"Hello, Dodge," said that young man, halting abruptly and somewhat
+aggressively when Simmy, without apology, clutched his arm as they swung
+by; "thought you'd gone. What d'you come back for?"
+
+"I haven't gone, so I couldn't come back," answered Simmy easily. "I want
+a word or two with Mrs. Tresslyn, old boy, so beat it."
+
+"Oh, I say, you've got a lot of cheek--"
+
+"Come along, Mrs. Tresslyn; don't mind Percy. _This_ is important." With
+Lutie at his side, he made his way through the crowd about the door and
+led her, wondering and not a little disturbed, into one of the ante-rooms,
+where he found a couple of chairs.
+
+She listened to his account of the meeting with her former husband, her
+eyes fixed steadily on his homely little face. There was alarm at first in
+those merry eyes of hers, but his first words were reassuring. He
+convinced her that George was not bent on any act of violence, nor did he
+intend to annoy or distress her by a public encounter.
+
+"As a matter of fact," he said, "he's gone off to bed, and I am quite
+certain that he will not change his mind. I waited here to tell you about
+him, Lutie, because I felt you ought to be prepared in case he does come
+back and you happen to see him skulking around in--"
+
+"This isn't news to me, Simmy," she said seriously. "A half dozen times in
+the past two weeks I have caught sight of him, always in some convenient
+spot where he could watch me without much prospect of being seen. He seems
+to possess an uncanny knowledge of my comings and goings. I never see him
+in the daytime. I felt sure that he would be outside this place to-night,
+so when I came in I made it a point to look up and down the
+street,--casually, of course. There was a man across the street. I couldn't
+be sure, but I thought it was George. It has been getting on my nerves,
+Simmy." Her hand shook slightly, but what he had taken for alarm was gone
+from her eyes. Instead they were shining brightly, and her lips remained
+parted after she had finished speaking.
+
+"Needn't have any fear of him," said he. "George is a gentleman. He still
+worships you, Lutie,--poor devil. He'll probably drink himself to death
+because of it, too. Of course you know that he is completely down and out?
+Little more than a common bum and street loafer."
+
+"He--he doesn't like whiskey," said she, after a moment.
+
+"One doesn't have to like it to drink it, you know."
+
+"He could stop it if he tried."
+
+"Like a flash. But he isn't going to try. At least, not until he feels
+that it's worth while."
+
+She looked up quickly. "What do you mean by that?" Without waiting for him
+to answer, she went on: "How can you expect me to do anything to help him?
+I am sorry for him, but--but, heavens and earth, Simmy, I can't preach
+temperance to a man who kicked me out of his house when he was sober, can
+I?"
+
+"You loved him, didn't you?"
+
+She flushed deeply. "I--I--oh, certainly."
+
+"Never have quite got over loving him, as a matter of fact," said he,
+watching her closely.
+
+She drew a long breath. "You're right, Simmy. I've never ceased to care
+for him. That's what makes it so hard for me to see him going to the dogs,
+as you say."
+
+"I said 'going to the devil,'" corrected Simmy resolutely.
+
+She laid her hand upon his arm. Her face was white now and her eyes were
+dark with pain.
+
+"I shiver when I think of him, Simmy, but not with dread or revulsion. I
+am always thinking of the days when he held me tight in those big, strong
+arms of his,--and that's what makes me shiver. I adored being in his arms.
+I shall never forget. People said that he would never amount to anything.
+They said that he was too strong to work and all that sort of thing. He
+didn't think much of himself, but I _know_ he would have come through all
+right. He is the best of his breed, I can tell you that. Think how young
+he was when we were married! Little more than a boy. He has never had a
+chance to be a man. He is still a boy, puzzled and unhappy because he
+can't think of himself as anything but twenty,--the year when everything
+stopped for him. He's twenty-five now, but he doesn't know it. He is still
+living in his twenty-first year."
+
+"I've never thought of it in that light," said Simmy, considerably
+impressed. "I say, Lutie, if you care so much for him, why not--" He
+stopped in some confusion. Clearly he had been on the point of trespassing
+on dangerous ground. He wiped his forehead.
+
+"I can finish it for you, Simmy, by answering the question," she said,
+with a queer little smile. "I want to help him,--oh, you don't know how my
+heart aches for him!--but what can I do? I am his wife in the sight of God,
+but that is as far as it goes. The law says that I am a free woman and
+George a free man. But don't you see how it is? The law cannot say that we
+shall not love each other. Now can it? It can only say that we are free to
+love some one else if we feel so inclined without being the least bit
+troubled by our marriage vows. But George and I are still married to each
+other, and we are still thinking of our marriage vows. The simple fact
+that we love each other proves a whole lot, now doesn't it, Simmy? We are
+divorced right enough,--South Dakota says so,--but we refuse to think of
+ourselves as anything but husband and wife, lover and sweetheart. Down in
+our hearts we loved each other more on the day the divorce was granted
+than ever before, and we've never stopped loving. I have not spoken a word
+to George in nearly three years--but I know that he has loved me every
+minute of the time. Naturally he does not think that I love him. He thinks
+that I despise him. But I don't despise him, Simmy. If he had followed his
+teachings he would now be married to some one else--some one of his
+mother's choosing--and I should be loathing him instead of feeling sorry
+for him. That would have convinced me that he was the rotter the world
+said he was when he turned against me. I tell you, Simmy, it is gratifying
+to know that the man you love is drinking himself to death because he's
+true to you."
+
+"That's an extraordinary thing to say," said Simmy, squinting. "You are
+happy because that poor devil is--"
+
+"Now don't say that!" she cried. "I didn't say I was happy. I said I was
+gratified--because he is true to me in spite of everything. I suppose it's
+more than you can grasp, Simmy,--you dear old simpleton." Her eyes were
+shining very brightly, and her cheeks were warm and rosy. "You see, it's
+my husband who is being true to me. Every wife likes to have that thing
+proved to her."
+
+"Quixotic," said Simmy. "He isn't your husband, my dear."
+
+"Oh, yes, he is," said Lutie earnestly. "Just as much as he ever was."
+
+"The law says he is not."
+
+"What are you trying to get me to say?"
+
+"I may as well come to the point. Would you marry him again if he were to
+come to you,--now?"
+
+"Do you mean, would I live with him again?"
+
+"You couldn't do that without marrying him, you know."
+
+"I am already married to him in the sight of God," said she, stubbornly.
+
+"Good Lord! Would you go back to him without a ceremony of--"
+
+"If I made up my mind to live with him, yes."
+
+"Oh, I see. And may I inquire just what your state of mind would be if he
+came to you to-morrow?"
+
+"You have got me cornered, Simmy," she said, her lip trembling. There was
+a hunted look in her eyes. "I--I don't know what I should do. I want him,
+Simmy,--I want my man, my husband, but to be perfectly honest with you, I
+don't believe he has sunk low enough yet for me to claim the complete
+victory I desire."
+
+"Victory?" gasped Simmy. "Do you want to pick him out of the gutter? Is
+that your idea of triumph over the Tresslyns? Are you--"
+
+"When the time comes, Simmy," said she cryptically, "I will hold out my
+hand to him, and then we'll have a _real_ man before you can say Jack
+Robinson. He will come up like a cork, and he'll be so happy that he'll
+stay up forever."
+
+"Don't be too sure of that. I've seen better men than George stay down
+forever."
+
+"Yes, but George doesn't want to stay down. He wants me. That's all he
+wants in this world."
+
+"Do you imagine that he will come to you, crawling on his knees, to plead
+for forgiveness or--"
+
+"By no means! He'd never sink so low as that. That's why I tell you that
+he is a man, a real man. There isn't one in a thousand who wouldn't be
+begging, and whining, and even threatening the woman if he were in
+George's position. That's why I'm so sure."
+
+"What do you expect?"
+
+"When his face grows a little thinner, and the Tresslyn in him is drowned,
+I expect to ask him to come and see me," she said slowly.
+
+"Good Lord!" muttered Simmy.
+
+She sprang to her feet, her face glowing. "And I don't believe I can stand
+seeing it grow much thinner," she cried. "He looks starved, Simmy. I can't
+put it off much longer. Now I must go back. Thank you for the warning. You
+don't understand him, but--thank you, just the same. I never miss seeing
+him when he thinks he is perfectly invisible. You see, Simmy, I too have
+eyes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+The next afternoon but one Templeton Thorpe was on the operating table. In
+a private sitting-room on the third floor of the great hospital, three
+people sat waiting for the result--two women and a man. They were the
+Tresslyns, mother, son and daughter. There were unopened boxes of flowers
+on the table in the middle of the room. The senders of these flowers were
+men, and their cards were inside the covers, damp with the waters of
+preservation. They were for Anne Thorpe, and they were from men who looked
+ahead even as she had looked ahead. But the roses and orchids they sent
+were never to be seen by Anne Thorpe. They were left in the boxes with
+their little white envelopes attached, for Anne was not thinking of roses
+as she sat there by the window, looking down into the street, waiting for
+the word from upstairs,--the inevitable word. Later on the free wards would
+be filled with the fragrance of American Beauties, and certain smug
+gentlemen would never be thanked. No one had sent flowers to Templeton
+Thorpe, the sick man.
+
+There had been a brief conference on the day before between Anne and
+Braden. The latter went to her with the word that he was to operate,
+provided she offered no objection.
+
+"You know what an operation will mean, Anne," he said steadily.
+
+"The end to his agony," she remarked. Outwardly she was calm, inwardly she
+shivered.
+
+"It is absurd to say that he has one chance in a million to pull through.
+He hasn't a single chance. I appreciate that fact and--so does he."
+
+"You are willing to do this thing, Braden?"
+
+"I am willing," he said. His face was like death.
+
+"And if I should object, what then?" she asked, almost inaudibly.
+
+"I should refuse to operate. I cannot pretend that an operation is the
+only means left to save his life. It is just the other way round. We are
+supposed to take extreme measures in extreme cases, but always with the
+idea of prolonging human life. In this instance, I am bound to tell you,
+that I don't believe there is a chance to save him. We must look the
+matter squarely in the face."
+
+"You said that there was absolutely no chance." She leaned heavily against
+the table.
+
+"I believe there is no chance, but I am not all-seeing, Anne. We never
+know,--absolutely. Miracles happen. They are not performed by man,
+however."
+
+"Have you spoken to Dr. Bates?"
+
+"Yes. He is coming to the hospital, to--to be with me."
+
+"He will not attempt to prevent the operation?"
+
+"No. He does not advise or sanction it, but he--understands."
+
+"And you will be held responsible for everything?"
+
+"I suppose so," said he bitterly.
+
+She was silent for a long time. "I think I shall object to the operation,
+Braden," she said at last.
+
+"For my sake and not for his, I take it," he said.
+
+"I may as well give him the tablets myself, as to consent to your method
+of--of--" She could not finish the sentence.
+
+"It isn't quite the same," he said. "I act with the authority of the law
+behind me. You would be violating the law."
+
+"Still you would be killing a fellow creature," she protested. "I--I cannot
+allow you to sacrifice yourself, Braden."
+
+"You forget that I have no false notions as to the question of right and
+wrong in cases of this kind. I assure you that if I undertake this
+operation it will be with a single purpose in mind: to save and prolong
+the life of my patient. The worst you can say of me is that I am convinced
+beforehand that I shall fail. If I were to act upon the principles I
+advocate, I should not feel obliged to go through the travesty of an
+operation. The time may come when cases of this sort will be laid before a
+commission, and if in their judgment it is deemed humane to do so, a drug
+will be administered and the horrors that are likely to attend my efforts
+of to-morrow will be impossible. There is no such law to sustain me now,
+no commission, no decision by experts and familiars to back me up, so I
+can only obey the commands of the patient himself,--and do the best I can
+for him. He insists on having the operation performed--and by me. I am one
+of the family. I am his only blood relative. It is meet and just, says he,
+that I should be the one, and not some disinterested, callous outsider.
+That is the way he puts it, and I have not denied him."
+
+"It is horrible," she moaned, shuddering. "Why do you ask me to consent?
+Why do you put it up to me?"
+
+"You now place me in the position of the surgeon who advises a prompt--I
+mean, who says that an operation is imperative."
+
+"But that isn't the truth. You do not advise it."
+
+He drew a long breath. "Yes, I do advise it. There is no other way. I
+shall try to save him. I _do_ advise it."
+
+She left him and went over to the fireplace, where she stood with her back
+toward him for many minutes, staring into the coals. He did not change his
+position. He did not even look at her. His eyes were fixed on the rug near
+the closed door. There was a warm, soft red in that rare old carpet.
+Finally she turned to him.
+
+"I shall not let you take all of the responsibility, Braden," she said.
+"It isn't fair. I shall not oppose you. You have my consent to go on with
+it."
+
+"I assume all responsibility," he said, abruptly, almost gruffly.
+
+"You are wrong there, Braden," she said, slowly. "My husband assumes the
+responsibility. It is his act, not yours. I shall always regard it in that
+light, no matter what may happen. It is his command."
+
+He tried to smile. "Perhaps that is the right way to look at it," he said,
+"but it is a poor way, after all." For a full minute they stood looking
+into each other's eyes. "Then I shall go ahead with the--arrangements," he
+said, compressing his lips.
+
+She nodded her head.
+
+"Before I go any farther, Anne, I want to tell you what happened this
+morning when his lawyer was here. I sent for him. There is a clause in my
+grandfather's will bequeathing to me the sum of one hundred thousand
+dollars. I insisted that a codicil be added to the instrument, revoking
+that clause. My grandfather was obstinate at first. Finally he agreed to
+discuss the matter privately with Judge Hollenback. A couple of hours ago
+Wade and Murray witnessed the codicil which deprives me of any interest in
+my grandfather's estate. I renounce everything. There will be no contest
+on my part. Not a penny is to come to me."
+
+She stared at him. "You refuse to take what rightfully belongs to you? Now
+that _is_ quixotic, Braden. You shall not--"
+
+"The matter is closed, Anne. We need not discuss it," he said firmly. "I
+had to tell you, that's all. The reason should be obvious. You know, of
+course, that the bulk of his estate, apart from the amount to be paid to
+you--" She winced perceptibly--"aside from that amount is to go to various
+charities and institutions devoted to the betterment of the human race. I
+need not add that these institutions are of a scientific character. I
+wanted you to know beforehand that I shall profit in no way by the death
+of my grandfather." After a significant pause he repeated distinctly: "I
+shall profit _in no way_."
+
+She lowered her eyes for an instant. "I think I understand, Braden," she
+said, looking up to meet his gaze unwaveringly. Her voice was low, even
+husky. She saw finality in his eyes.
+
+"He seemed to feel that I ought to know of the clause I mention,"
+explained Braden dully. "Perhaps he thought it would--it might be an
+inducement to me to--to go ahead. God! What a thought!"
+
+"He allowed you to read it?"
+
+"A copy, last night. The real instrument was produced to-day by Judge
+Hollenback at my request, and the change was made in the presence of
+witnesses."
+
+"Where is it now?"
+
+"Judge Hollenback took it away with him. That's all I know about it."
+
+"I am sorry," she said, a queer glint in her eyes. "Sorry he took it away
+with him, I mean. There is nothing I can do--now."
+
+She sent for her mother that night. The next morning Simmy Dodge came down
+with George Tresslyn, who steadfastly refused to enter the house but rode
+to the hospital with his mother and sister in Simmy's automobile. Anne did
+not see Braden again after that momentous interview in the library. He had
+effaced himself.
+
+Now she sat in the window looking down into the street, dull and listless
+and filled with the dread of the future that had once looked so engaging
+to her. The picture that avarice and greed had painted was gone. In its
+place was an honest bit of colour on the canvas,--a drab colour and
+noteless.
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn, unmoved and apparently disinterested, ran idly through the
+pages of an illustrated periodical. Her furs lay across a chair in the
+corner of the room. They were of chinchilla and expressed a certain
+arrogance that could not be detached by space from the stately figure with
+the lorgnon. The year had done little toward bending that proud head. The
+cold, classic beauty of this youngish mother of the other occupants of the
+room was as yet absolutely unmarred by the worries that come with
+disillusionment. If she felt rebellious scorn for the tall disappointment
+who still bore and always would bear the honoured name of Tresslyn she
+gave no sign: if the slightest resentment existed in her soul toward the
+daughter who was no longer as wax in her hands, she hid the fact securely
+behind a splendid mask of unconcern. As for the old man upstairs she had
+but a single thought: an insistent one it was, however, and based itself
+upon her own dread of the thing that was killing him.
+
+George Tresslyn, white-faced and awed, sat like a graven image, looking at
+the floor. He was not there because he wanted to be, but because a rather
+praiseworthy allegiance to Anne had mastered his repugnance. Somewhere in
+his benumbed intelligence flickered a spark of light which revealed to him
+his responsibility as the head of the family. Anne was his sister. She was
+lovely. He would have liked to be proud of her. If it were not for the
+millions of that old man upstairs he could have been proud of her, and by
+an odd reasoning, even more ashamed of himself than he was now. He was not
+thinking of the Thorpe millions, however, as he sat there brooding; he was
+not wondering what Anne would do for him when she had her pay in hand. He
+was dumbly praising himself for having refused to sell his soul to
+Templeton Thorpe in exchange for the fifty thousand dollars with which the
+old man had baited him on three separate occasions, and wishing that Lutie
+could know. It was something that she would have to approve of in him! It
+was rather pitiful that he should have found a grain of comfort in the
+fact that he had refused to kill a fellow man!
+
+Anne took several turns up and down the room. There was a fine line
+between her dark, brooding eyes, and her nostrils were distended as if
+breathing had become difficult for her.
+
+"I told him once that if such a thing ever happened to me, I'd put an end
+to myself just as soon as I knew," she said, addressing no one, but
+speaking with a distinctness that was startling. "I told him that one
+would be justified in taking one's life under such circumstances. Why
+should one go on suffering--"
+
+"What are you saying, Anne?" broke in her mother sharply. George looked
+up, astonishment struggling to make its way through the dull cloud on his
+face.
+
+Anne stopped short. For a moment she appeared to be dazed. She went paler
+than before, and swayed. Her brother started up from his chair, alarmed.
+
+"I say, Anne old girl, get hold of yourself!" he exclaimed. "None of that,
+you know. You mustn't go fainting or anything like that. Walk around with
+me for a couple of minutes. You'll be all right in--"
+
+"Oh, I'm not going to faint," she cried, but grasped his arm just the
+same.
+
+"They always walked us around on the football field when we got woozy--"
+
+"Go out and see if you can find out anything, George," said she, pulling
+herself together. "Surely it must be over by this time."
+
+"Simmy's on the lookout," said George. "He'll let us know."
+
+"Be patient, my dear," said Mrs. Tresslyn, wiping a fine moisture from her
+upper lip, where it had appeared with Anne's astounding observation. "You
+will not have to wait much longer. Be--"
+
+Anne faced her, an unmistakable sneer on her lips. "I'm used to waiting,"
+she said huskily.
+
+"She has waited a year and more," said George aggressively, glowering at
+his mother. It was a significant but singularly unhappy remark.
+
+For the first time in their lives, they saw their mother in tears. It was
+so incomprehensible that at first both Anne and her brother laughed, not
+in mirth, but because they were so stupefied that they did not know what
+they were doing, and laughter was the simplest means of expressing an
+acute sense of embarrassment. Then they stood aloof and watched the
+amazing exposition, fascinated, unbelieving. It did not occur to either of
+them to go to the side of this sobbing woman whose eyes had always been
+dry and cold, this mother who had wiped away their tears a hundred times
+and more with dainty lace handkerchiefs not unlike the one she now pressed
+so tightly to her own wet cheeks. They could not understand this thing
+happening to her. They could not believe that after all their mother
+possessed the power to shed tears, to sob as other women do, to choke and
+snivel softly, to blubber inelegantly; they had always looked upon her as
+proof against emotion. Their mother was crying! Her back was toward them,
+evidence of a new weakness in her armour. It shook with the effort she
+made to control the cowardly spasmodic sobs. And why was she in tears?
+What had brought this amazing thing to pass? What right had she to cry?
+
+They watched her stupidly as she walked away from them toward the window.
+They were not unfeeling; they simply did not know how to act in the face
+of this marvel. They looked at each other in bewilderment. What had
+happened? Only the moment before she had been as cold and as magnificently
+composed as ever she had been, and now! Now she was like other people. She
+had come down to the level of the utterly commonplace. She was just a
+plain, ordinary woman. It was unbelievable.
+
+They did not feel sorry for her. A second time, no doubt, would find them
+humanly sympathetic, troubled, distressed, but this first time they could
+only wonder, they could only doubt their senses. It would have been most
+offensive in them to have let her see they noticed anything unusual in her
+behaviour. At least that is the way they felt about it in their failure to
+understand.
+
+For five minutes Mrs. Tresslyn stood with her back to them. Gradually the
+illy-stifled sobs subsided and, as they still looked on curiously, the
+convulsive heaving of her shoulders grew less perceptible, finally ceasing
+altogether. Her tall figure straightened to its full, regal height; her
+chin went up to its normal position; her wet handkerchief was stuffed,
+with dignified deliberateness, into the gold mesh bag. A minute more to
+prove that she had completely mastered her emotions, and then she faced
+her children. It was as if nothing had happened. She was the calm and
+imperious mother they had always known. Involuntarily, Anne uttered a deep
+sigh of relief. George blinked his eyes and also fell to wondering if they
+had served him honestly, or if, on the other hand, he too had merely
+imagined something incredible.
+
+They did not question her. The incident was closed. They were never to ask
+her why she had wept in their presence. They were never to know what had
+moved her to tears. Instinctively and quite naturally they shrank from the
+closer intimacy that such a course would involve. Their mother was herself
+once more. She was no longer like other women. They could not be in touch
+with her. And so they were never to know why she had cried. They only knew
+that for a brief space she had been as silly as any ordinary mortal could
+be, and they were rather glad to have caught her at it.
+
+Years afterward, however, George was to say to Anne: "Queer thing, wasn't
+it, that time she cried? Do you remember?" And Anne was to reply: "I've
+never forgotten it. It _was_ queer."
+
+Nor did Mrs. Tresslyn offer the slightest explanation for her conduct. She
+did not even smile shamefacedly, as any one else certainly would have done
+in apology. She was, however, vaguely pleased with her children. They had
+behaved splendidly. They were made of the right stuff, after all! She had
+not been humbled.
+
+Apathy was restored. George slumped down in his chair and set his jaws
+hard. Mrs. Tresslyn glanced idly through the pages of a magazine, while
+Anne, taking up her position once more at the window, allowed her thoughts
+to slip back into the inevitable groove. They were not centred upon
+Templeton Thorpe as an object of pity but as a subject for speculation:
+she was thinking of the thing that Braden was doing, and of his part in
+this life and death affair. She was trying to picture him up there in that
+glaring little room cutting the life out of a fellow creature under the
+very eyes of the world.
+
+The door was opened swiftly but softly. Simmy Dodge, white as a sheet,
+came into the room.... Mrs. Tresslyn went over to the window, where Anne
+was sitting, white and dry-eyed.
+
+"It is no more than we expected, dear," said she quietly. "He had no
+chance. You were prepared. It is all over. You ought to be thankful that
+his sufferings are over. He--"
+
+Anne was not listening. She broke in with a question to Simmy.
+
+"What was it that you said happened while you were in the room? Before the
+ether, I mean. Tell me again,--and slowly."
+
+Simmy cleared his throat. It was very tight and dry. He was now afraid of
+death.
+
+"It was awfully affecting," he said, wiping the moisture from his brow.
+"Awfully. That young interne fellow told me about it. Just before they
+gave the ether, Mr. Thorpe shook hands with Brady. He was smiling. They
+all heard him say 'Good-bye, my boy,--and thank you.' And Brady leaned over
+and kissed him on the forehead. The chap couldn't quite hear, but says he
+thinks he whispered, 'Good-bye, granddaddy.' Awfully affecting scene--"
+
+"'Good-bye, granddaddy,'" Anne repeated, dully. Then she covered her eyes
+with her hands.
+
+Simmy fidgeted. He wanted to help, but felt oddly that he was very much
+out of place. George's big hand gripped his arm. At any other time he
+would have winced with pain, but now he had no thought for himself.
+Moreover, there was something wonderfully sustaining in the powerful hand
+that had been laid upon his.
+
+"She ought not to take it so hard, George," he began.
+
+"They told you he never came out of the anaesthetic," said George, in a
+half-whisper. "Just died--like that?"
+
+"That's what he said. Little chap with blond hair and nose-glasses. You
+remember seeing him--Yes, he told me. He was in there. Saw it all. Gosh, I
+don't see how they can do it. This fellow seemed to be very much upset, at
+that. He looked scared. I say, George, do you know what the pylorus is?"
+
+"Pylorus? No."
+
+"I wish I knew. This fellow seemed to think that Brady made some sort of a
+mistake. He wouldn't say much, however. Some sort of a slip, I gathered.
+Something to do with the pylorus, I know. It must be a vital spot."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+The day after the funeral, George Tresslyn called to see his sister. He
+found that it required a new sort of courage on his part to enter the
+house, even after his hesitation about pressing the door-bell. He was not
+afraid of any living man, and yet he was oppressed by the uncanny fear
+that Templeton Thorpe was still alive and waiting somewhere in the dark
+old house, ready to impose further demands upon his cupidity. The young
+man was none too steady beforehand, and now he was actually shaking. When
+Murray opened the door, he was confronted by an extremely pallid visitor
+who shot a furtive look over his head and down the hall before inquiring
+whether Mrs. Thorpe was at home.
+
+"She is, Mr. George," said Murray. "You telephoned half an hour ago, sir."
+
+"So I did," said George nervously. He was not offended by Murray's obvious
+comment upon his unstable condition, for he knew--even though Murray did
+not--that no drop of liquor had passed his lips in four days.
+
+"Mrs. Thorpe is expecting you."
+
+"Is she alone, Murray?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Would you mind stepping inside, sir? It's a raw wind that is
+blowing. I think I must have taken a bit of a cold yesterday during--ahem!
+Thank you, sir. I will tell Mrs. Thorpe that you are here." Murray was
+rather testy. He had been imbibing.
+
+George shivered. "I say, Murray, would you mind giving me a drop of
+something to warm me up? I--"
+
+The butler regarded him fixedly, even severely. "You have had quite enough
+already, sir," he said firmly, but politely.
+
+"Oh, come now! I haven't had a drink in God knows how long. I--but never
+mind! If that's the way you feel about it, I withdraw my request. Keep
+your darned old brandy. But let me tell you one thing, Murray; I don't
+like your impertinence. Just remember that, will you?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir," said Murray, unoffended. He was seeing with a
+clearer vision. "You are ill. I mistook it for--"
+
+"No, I'm not ill. And I'll forgive you, too, Murray," he added
+impulsively. "I daresay you were justified. My fame has preceded me. Tell
+Mrs. Thorpe I'm here, will you? Run along; the decanter is quite safe."
+
+A few minutes later he was ushered into Anne's sitting-room upstairs. He
+stopped short just inside the door, struck by the pallor, the haggardness
+of his sister's face.
+
+"Oh, I say, Anne!" he exclaimed. "You're not taking it so hard as all
+this, I hope. My Lord, girlie, you look--you look--why, you can't possibly
+feel like this about him. What the deuce are--"
+
+"Close the door, George," she commanded. Her voice sounded hollow,
+lifeless to him. She was sitting bolt upright on the huge, comfortable
+couch in front of the grate fire. He had dreaded seeing her in black. She
+had worn it the day before. He remembered that she had worn more of it
+than seemed necessary to him. It had made her appear clumsy and over-fed.
+He was immensely relieved to find that she now wore a rose-coloured
+pignoir, and that it was wrapped very closely about her slim, long figure,
+as if she were afflicted by the cold and was futilely trying to protect
+her shivering flesh. He shuffled across the room and sat down beside her.
+"I'm glad you came. It is--oh, it is horribly lonely here in this dreadful
+house. You--"
+
+"Hasn't mother been down to see you?" he demanded. "She ought to be here.
+You need her. Confound it, Anne, what sort of a woman is--"
+
+"Hush! She telephoned. I said that I preferred to be alone. But I'm glad
+you came, George." She laid her hand on his. "You are able to feel sorry
+for me. Mother isn't."
+
+"You're looking awfully seedy, Anne. I still say she ought to be here to
+look after you. It's her place."
+
+"I'm all right. Of course, I look like the dickens, but who wouldn't? It
+has been terrible. Weeks and weeks of it. You'll never know what--" She
+shuddered so violently that he threw his arm about her and drew her close.
+
+"Well, it's all over now, girlie. Brace up. Sunshine from now on. It was a
+bad day's work when you let yourself in for it, but that's all over now."
+
+"Yes, it's all over," she said slowly. "Everything's all over." Her wide,
+sombre eyes fixed their gaze upon the rippling blue flames in the grate.
+
+"Well, smile a little. It's time some one of us Tresslyns had a chance to
+grin a little without bearing it."
+
+She raised her eyes and slowly inspected this big brother of hers.
+Seemingly she had not taken him in as a whole up to that moment of
+consideration. A slight frown appeared on her brow.
+
+"I've been hearing rather bad things about you, George," she said, after a
+moment. "Now that I look at you, you do look pretty shaky,--and pretty well
+threshed out. Is it true? Have you been as bad as they say?"
+
+He flushed. "Has Simmy Dodge been talking?"
+
+"Simmy is your friend, George," she said sharply.
+
+"It's always a fellow's friends who do the most talking," said he, "and
+that's what hurts. You don't mind what your enemies say."
+
+"Simmy has not mentioned your name to me in weeks."
+
+"Well, I don't call that being friendly. He knows everything. He ought to
+have told you just how rotten I've been, because you could believe Simmy.
+You can't believe every one, Anne, but I know Simmy would give it to you
+straight. Yes, I've been all that could be expected. The only thing I
+haven't been is a liar."
+
+"Can't you brace up, George? You are really the best of the lot, if you
+only knew it. You--"
+
+"I don't drink because I like it, you know, Anne," he said earnestly.
+
+"I see," she said, nodding her head slowly. "You drink because it's the
+surest way to prove to Lutie that you are still in love with her. Isn't
+that it?" She spoke ironically.
+
+"When I think how much you would have liked Lutie if she'd had a chance
+to--"
+
+"Don't tell it to me, George," she interrupted. "I didn't in the least
+care whom you married. As a matter of fact, I think you married the right
+girl."
+
+"You do?" he cried eagerly.
+
+"Yes. But she didn't marry the right man. If you had been the right man
+and had been taken away from her as you were, she would have died of a
+broken heart long before this. Logic for you, isn't it?"
+
+"She's got too much sense to die of a broken heart. And that isn't saying
+she wasn't in love with me, either."
+
+"Oh, well," she sighed, "it doesn't matter. She didn't die, she didn't go
+to the bad, she didn't put on a long face and weep her eyes out,--as I
+recall them they were exceedingly pretty eyes, which may account for her
+determination to spare them,--and she didn't do anything that a sensible
+woman would have done under the circumstances. A sensible woman would have
+set herself up as a martyr and bawled her eyes out. But Lutie, being an
+ignoramus, overlooked her opportunities, and now see where she is! I am
+told that she is exasperatingly virtuous, abstemious and exceedingly well-
+dressed, and all on an income derived from thirty thousand dollars that
+came out of the Tresslyn treasure chest. Almost incomprehensible, isn't
+it? Nothing sensible about Lutie, is there?"
+
+"Are you trying to be sarcastic, Anne?" demanded George, contriving to sit
+up a little straighter on the sofa. He was not in the habit of exerting
+himself in these days of unregeneration. Anne was always smarter than he;
+he never knew just how much smarter she was but he knew when to feel
+apprehensive.
+
+"You wanted to see me, George," she said abruptly. "What is it you want?
+Money?"
+
+He scowled. "I might have known you would ask that question. No, I don't
+want money. I could have had some of old man Thorpe's money a couple of
+weeks ago if I'd been mean enough to take it, and I'm not mean enough to
+take it now--from you. I want to talk to you about Braden Thorpe."
+
+For a moment or two Anne looked into his frowning eyes, and then she drew
+back into the corner of the couch, a queer shudder running through her
+body.
+
+"About Braden?" she asked, striving to make her voice sound firm and
+unstrained.
+
+"Where is he? Staying here in the house?"
+
+"Of course not. I don't know where he is. He has not been near me
+since--since the day before--" She spoke rapidly, jerkily, and did not deem
+it necessary to complete the sentence.
+
+George had the delicacy to hesitate. He even weighed, in that brief
+instant, the advisability of saying what he had come to say to her. Then a
+queer sense of duty, of brother to sister, took the place of doubt. She
+was his sister and she needed him now as never before, needed him now
+despite his self-admitted worthlessness.
+
+"See here, Anne, I'm going to speak plainly," he blurted out, leaning
+forward. "You must not see Brady Thorpe again. If he comes here, you must
+refuse to receive him."
+
+Her eyes were very dark and lustreless against the increased pallor of her
+cheeks. "He will not come here, George," she said, scarcely above a
+whisper. She moistened her lips. "It isn't necessary to--to warn me."
+
+"Mind you, I don't say a word against him," he made haste to explain.
+"It's what people will say that troubles me. Perhaps you don't know what
+they are going to say, Anne, but I do."
+
+"Oh, I know what they will say," she muttered. She looked straight into
+his eyes. "They will say that he killed his grandfather--purposely."
+
+"It doesn't matter that they say he killed his grandfather, Anne," said he
+slowly, "so much as that he killed your husband. That's the point."
+
+"What have you heard, George?" she asked, in dread of his reply.
+
+"Barely enough to let me understand that where one man is talking now, a
+hundred will be talking next week. There was a young doctor up there in
+the operating room. He doesn't say it in so many words, but he suspects
+that it wasn't an accidental slip of the--don't look like that, Anne! Gee,
+you looked awfully scary just then." He wiped his brow. "I--I thought you
+were about to faint. I say, we'll drop the matter this instant if--"
+
+"I'm not going to faint," she exclaimed. "You need not be afraid. What is
+it that this young doctor says? And how do you happen to have heard--"
+
+"It's what he said to Simmy," interrupted George, quickly. "Simmy let it
+slip last night. I was in his apartment. Then I made him tell me the whole
+thing. He says it is certain that if this young fellow saw anything wrong,
+the others also did. And you know there were three pretty big surgeons
+there looking on. Bates and those other fellows, you remember. It--it looks
+bad, Anne. That's why I tell you that you must not see Brady again."
+
+"And what has all this to do with my not seeing Braden again?" she
+demanded steadily.
+
+He stared. "Why,--why, you just mustn't, that's all. Can't you understand?"
+
+"You mean that I ought not to be put in the position of sharing the blame
+with him. Is that it?"
+
+"Well, if there should be a--er--criminal investigation, you'd be a blamed
+sight better off if you kept out of it, my girl. And what's more to the
+point, you can't afford to have people say that you are determined to do
+the thing they believe you set out to do in the beginning,--and that is to
+marry Braden as soon as--"
+
+"Stop right there, George!" she cried hotly. "Other people may say what
+they please, but the same privilege is not extended to you. Don't forget
+that you are my brother."
+
+"I'm sorry, Anne. I didn't mean it in that way. Of course, I know that
+it's all over between you and Brady. Just the same, I mean what I say when
+I advise you to see nothing of him. I've given you the hint, that's all."
+
+"And I am sorry I spoke as I did just now," she said listlessly. "Thanks,
+George. You are looking out for me, aren't you? I didn't expect it.
+Somehow, I've always felt that nobody cared whether I--"
+
+"I'll look out for you as long as I'm able to stand," said he, setting his
+jaw. "I wish you could love me, Anne. I think we'd be pretty good pals,
+after all, if we got to thinking more about each other and less about
+ourselves. Of course, I'm a down-and-outer and don't deserve much in the
+way of--"
+
+"You don't deserve sympathy," she interrupted, laying a firm hand upon
+his, "and I know you are not asking for it. Encouragement is what you
+need." Her voice shook slightly. "You want some one to love you. I
+understand. It's what we all want, I suppose. I'll try to be a real, true
+sister from now on, George. It--it will not be very hard for me to love
+you, I'm sure," she concluded, with a whimsical little smile that went
+straight to his sore, disfigured heart. A lump came into his throat and
+his eyes began to smart so suddenly that a mist came over them before he
+could blink his lids. He was very young, was George Tresslyn, despite the
+things that go to make men old.
+
+"Gee!" he said, astonished by his own emotions. Then he gripped her
+slender, ringless hand in his huge palm,--and was further surprised to
+discover that she did not wince. "We're not acting like Tresslyns at all,
+Anne. We're acting just like regular people."
+
+"Do you know that you are a very lucky person, George?" she said abruptly.
+He blinked. "You don't know it, but you are. I wish I had the same chance
+that you have."
+
+"What are you talking about?" he demanded.
+
+"I wish I had the same chance to be happy that you have."
+
+"Happy? Good Lord, I'll never be happy without Lutie, and you know it," he
+groaned.
+
+"That is just the chance you still have, Buddy. It isn't inconceivable
+that you may get Lutie back, while I--well, you know how it is with me. I'm
+done for, to put it plainly."
+
+"Lutie wouldn't wipe her feet on me," he said, struggling between hope and
+conviction. "I'd let her do it like a flash if she wanted to, but--Oh,
+what's the use! You and I have queered ourselves forever, you with Brady
+and I with Lutie. It's an infernal shame you didn't take Brady when you--"
+
+"Yes, we've queered ourselves," said she, struck by the phrase that fell
+from his lips. It was not Anne's habit to use slang, but somehow George's
+way of putting the situation into words was so aggravatingly complete that
+she almost resented his prior use of an expression that she had never used
+before in her life. It _did_ sum up the business, neatly and compactly.
+Strange that she had never thought of that admirable word before! "And of
+the two of us, George, I am the worst offender. I went about my mistake
+deliberately. I suppose it is only right that I should pay the heavier
+price."
+
+"If I thought there was a chance to get Lutie back, I'd--" But there he
+stopped as he always stopped. He had never been able to end that sentence,
+and he had got just that far with it a million times or more.
+
+"Have you tried to get her back?" she demanded suddenly, a flash of
+interest in her eyes. It was to grow into genuine enthusiasm. The impulse
+at the back of her mind was to develop into an idea, later into a strong,
+definite purpose. It had for its foundation a hitherto unsuspected desire
+to do good.
+
+"Great Scot, no!"
+
+"Then _try_, George," she cried, a new thrill in her voice.
+
+He was bewildered. "Try what?"
+
+"I would stake my life on it, George, if you set about it in the right way
+you can win Lutie all over again. All you have to do is to let her see
+that you are a man, a real man. There's no reason in the world why she
+shouldn't remember what love really is, and that she once had it through
+you. There's a lot in love that doesn't come out in a couple of months and
+she has the sense to know that she was cheated out of it. If I am not
+greatly mistaken she is just like all other women. We don't stop loving
+before we get our fill of it, or until we've at least found out that it
+bores us to be loved by the man who starts the fire going. Now, Lutie must
+realise that she never got her full share. She wasn't through loving you.
+She had barely begun. It doesn't matter how badly a woman is treated, she
+goes on loving her man until some other man proves that she is wrong, and
+he cannot prove it to her until she has had all of the love that she can
+get out of the first man. That's why women stick to the men who beat them.
+Of course, this doesn't apply to unmoral women. You know the kind I mean.
+But it is true of all honest women, and Lutie appears to be more honest
+than we suspected. She had two or three months of you, George, and then
+came the crash. You can't tell me that she stopped wanting to be loved by
+you just as she was loving you the hardest. She may some day marry another
+man, but she will never forget that she had you for three months and that
+they were not enough."
+
+"Great Scot!" said George once more, staring open-mouthed at his
+incomprehensible sister. "Are you in earnest?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Why, she ought to despise me."
+
+"Quite true, she should," said Anne coolly. "The only thing that keeps her
+from despising you is that uncompleted honeymoon. It's like giving a
+starving man just half enough to eat. He is still hungry."
+
+"Do you mean to say that you'd like to see me make it up again with Lutie?
+You'd like to have me marry her again?"
+
+"Why not? I'd find some happiness in seeing you happy, I suppose. I dare
+say it is self interest on my part, after all. In a way, it makes for my
+happiness, so therein I am selfish."
+
+"Bosh! You'll be happy, Anne, but not through me. You are the prettiest
+girl in New York, one of the richest, one of the smartest--"
+
+"See here, George," she said, a hard note stealing into her voice, "you
+and I are pretty much alike in one respect. Surprising as it may seem, we
+have been able to love some one besides ourselves. And still more
+surprising, we appear to be constant. You are no more constant in your
+love for Lutie than I am in my love for the man I shall never have. My man
+despises me. Your woman merely pities you. You can retake what you have
+lost. I cannot. But why shouldn't I go on loving my man, just as you are
+loving your woman? Why shouldn't I?" she cried out fiercely.
+
+He gulped. "Oh, I say, Anne, I--I didn't dream that it meant so much to
+you. I have always thought of you as--as--er--sort of indifferent to--But,
+that just shows how little a fellow knows about his sister. A sister never
+seems to be given the same flesh and blood feelings that other women have.
+I'm sorry I said what I did a little while ago. I take it back, Anne. If
+you've got a chance to get Brady back--"
+
+"Stop! I spoke of your affairs, George, because they are not altogether
+hopeless. We cannot discuss mine."
+
+"And as for that story, who is going to prove that Braden intentionally--"
+He checked the words, and switched off along another line. "Even though he
+did put a merciful end to Mr. Thorpe's suffering, what selfish motive can
+be charged to him? Not one. He doesn't get a dollar of the estate, Simmy
+says. He alone loved that old man. No one else in the world loved him. He
+did the best he could for him, and he doesn't care what any one thinks
+about it. I came here to warn you, to tell you to be careful, but now that
+I know what it means to you, I--"
+
+She arose. Facing him, she said slowly, deliberately: "I believe that
+Braden tried to save his grandfather's life. He asked my consent to the
+operation. I gave it. When I gave it, I was morally certain that Mr.
+Thorpe was to die on the operating table. I wanted him to die. I wanted an
+end put to his suffering. But I did not want Braden to be the one. Some
+day I may have the courage to tell you something, George, that will shock
+you as nothing on earth has ever shocked you. I will tell you the real
+reason why Templeton Thorpe married me. I--but not now. I wish that the
+whole world could know that if Braden did take his own way to end the
+suffering of that unhappy old man, I have no word of condemnation for him.
+He did the humane thing."
+
+George remained seated, watching her with perplexed, dubious eyes. It was
+a matter that deserved mental concentration. He could best achieve this by
+abstaining from physical indulgence. Here was his sister, the wife of the
+dead man, actually condoning an act that was almost certain to be
+professionally excoriated,--behind the hand, so to say,--even though there
+was no one to contend that a criminal responsibility should be put upon
+Braden Thorpe. He was, for the moment, capable of forgetting his own
+troubles in considering the peril that attended Anne.
+
+"Oh, I say, Anne, you'll have to be careful what you say. It's all right
+to say it to me, but for heaven's sake don't go telling these things to
+other people." He was serious, desperately serious. "No one will
+understand. No one will see it as you do. There has been a lot of talk
+about Brady's views and all that. People are not very charitable toward
+him. They stick to the idea that God ought to do such jobs as Brady
+advocates, and I don't know but they are right. So now you just keep your
+mouth closed about all this. It is Braden's affair, it's his lookout, not
+yours. The least said, the better, take it from me. You--"
+
+"We will talk of something else, George, if you don't mind," she said,
+relaxing suddenly. She sat down beside him once more, rather limply and
+with a deep, long-drawn sigh, as if she had spent herself in this single
+exposition of feeling. "Now what do you intend to do in regard to Lutie?
+Are you ready to straighten up and make the effort to--to be something
+creditable to yourself and to her?"
+
+"Oh, I've tried to hold down a good many respectable jobs," he scoffed.
+"It's no good trying. I'm too busy thinking of her to be able to devote
+much of my remarkable intelligence to ordinary work."
+
+"Well, you've never had me behind you till now," she said. "I am perfectly
+able to think for you, if you'll let me. Simmy Dodge is interested in you.
+He can get you a berth somewhere. It may be a humble one, but it will lead
+to something better. You are not a drunkard, you are not a loafer. Now, I
+will tell you what I intend to do. If, at the end of a year, you can show
+me that you--"
+
+"Hold on! You are not thinking of offering me money, are you?" he
+demanded, flushing angrily.
+
+Her eyes brightened. "You would not accept it?"
+
+"No," he said flatly.
+
+"You must remember one thing, George," she said, after a moment. "You
+cannot take Lutie back until you have paid mother in full for all that
+your freedom cost her. It wouldn't be fair to take both the girl and the
+money she received for giving you up that time. She was paid in full for
+returning you to the family circle. If she takes you back again, she
+should refund the money, even though she is accepting damaged and well-
+worn goods. Now, Lutie should not be called upon to make restitution. That
+is for you to do. I fancy it will be a long time before you can amass
+thirty or forty thousand dollars, so I make you this offer: the day you
+are _good_ enough for Lutie to marry all over again, I will pay to mother
+for you the full amount that Lutie would owe her in violating the
+contract. You will not receive a cent of it, you see. But you understand
+how rotten it would be for you and Lutie to--"
+
+"I see, I see," cried he, striking his knee with his clenched hand. "We
+couldn't do it, that's all. It's awfully good of you, Anne, to do this for
+me. I'll--I'll never forget it. And I'll pay you back somehow before we're
+through, see if I don't." He was already assuming that the task of winning
+back Lutie was joyously on the way to certain consummation.
+
+"I am a rich woman," said Anne, compressing her lips. "I sha'n't miss a
+few dollars, you know. To-morrow I am to go with Mr. Hollenback to the
+safety vaults. A fortune will be placed in my hands. The deal will be
+closed."
+
+"It's a lot of money," said George, shaking his head gloomily. It was as
+if he had said that it was money she shouldn't speak of with pride. "I
+say, Anne, do you know just how mother is fixed for money? Last winter she
+told me she might have to sell the house and--"
+
+"I know," said Anne shortly. "I intend to share the spoils with her, in a
+way, even though she can't share the shame with me. She brought us up,
+George, and she made us the noble creatures that we are. We owe her
+something for that, eh? Oh, I am not as bitter as I appear to be, so don't
+look shocked. Mother has her ideals, and she is honest about them. She is
+a wonderful woman, a wonderful mother. She did her best for us in every
+way possible. I don't blame her for what has happened to me. I blame
+myself. She is not half as mean as I am, George, and she isn't one-tenth
+as weak-kneed as you. She stood by both of us, and I for one shall stand
+by her. So don't you worry about mother, old boy. Worry about the honest
+job you are expected to get--and hold."
+
+Later on she said to him: "Some day I shall make it a point to see Lutie.
+I will shake hands with her. You see, George dear," she went on
+whimsically, "I don't in the least object to divorcees. They are not half
+as common as divorces. And as for your contention that if you and Lutie
+had a child to draw you together, I can only call your attention to the
+fact that there are fewer divorces among people who have no children than
+among those who have. The records--or at least the newspapers--prove that to
+be a fact. In nine-tenths of the divorce cases you read about, the custody
+of children is mentioned. That should prove something, eh? It ought to put
+at rest forever the claim that children bind mismated people together.
+They don't, and that is all there is about it."
+
+George grinned in his embarrassment. "Well, I'll be off now, Anne. I'll
+see Simmy this afternoon, as you suggest, and--" he hesitated, the worried
+look coming into his eyes once more--"Oh, I say, Anne, I can't help
+repeating what I said about your seeing Braden. Don't--"
+
+"Good-bye, George," she broke in abruptly, a queer smile on her lips.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+Braden Thorpe realised that he would have to pay, one way or another, for
+what had happened in the operating room. Either his honour or his skill
+would be attacked for the course his knife had taken.
+
+The day after his grandfather's death, he went to the office of Dr. Bates,
+the deposed family physician and adviser. He did not go in a cringing,
+apologetic spirit, but as one unafraid, as one who is justified within
+himself and fears not the report of evil. His heart was sore, for he knew
+he was to be misjudged. Those men who looked on while he worked so
+swiftly, so surely, so skilfully in that never-to-be-forgotten hour, were
+not to be deceived. He knew too well that he had performed with the most
+noteworthy skill, and, if he had any other feeling than that of grief for
+the death of one who had been dear to him, it was that of pride in the
+consciousness that he deserved the praise of these men for the manner in
+which he performed the most delicate of operations. He knew that they
+knew, quite as well as he, that but for the fatal swerving of half an inch
+of the instrument in his steady fingers, Templeton Thorpe would not only
+be alive at that moment but conceivably might be expected to survive for
+many days.
+
+They had seen everything and they understood. He did not seek to conceal
+the truth from himself. He had heard the sharply drawn breath that was
+taken through the parted lips of his tense observers as that admirably
+handled blade slid from its true course and spoiled what might have been
+heralded as a marvellous feat in surgery. It was as if something had
+snapped in the minds of these three men who watched. They had looked,
+however, upon all that was before him as he worked. They had seen, as he
+saw, the thing that no human skill could conquer. He felt their eyes upon
+him as he turned the knife quickly, suddenly, surely, and then they had
+looked into his eyes as he raised them for a second. He had spared his
+grandfather another month of agony, and they had seen everything. It was
+not unlikely that the patient might have survived the anaesthetic, and it
+was equally probable that subsequent care on the part of the doctor and
+the nurse might have kept him alive long enough to permit his case to be
+recorded by virtue of his having escaped alive from the operating table,
+as one of those exasperatingly smug things known to the profession as a
+"successful operation,"--sardonic prelude to an act of God!
+
+There seems to be no such thing as an unsuccessful operation. If God would
+only keep his finger out of the business, nothing could go wrong. It is
+always the act of God that keeps a man from enjoying the fruits of an
+absolutely successful operation. Up to the instant that Braden's knife
+took its sanguinary course, there was every indication that the operation
+would be successful, even though Mr. Thorpe were to breathe his last while
+the necessary stitches were being taken.
+
+He had slept soundly throughout the night just past. For the first night
+in a week his mind and body took the rest that had been denied them for so
+long. The thing was behind him. It was over. He had earned his right to
+sleep. When he laid his head upon the pillow there was no fear of evil
+dreams, no qualms, no troubled conscience to baffle the demands of
+exhaustion. He had done no wrong. His sleep was long, sweet, refreshing.
+He had no fear of God in his soul that night, for he had spoken with God
+in the silence of the long night before and he was at peace with Him. No
+man could say that he had not tried to save the life of Templeton Thorpe.
+He had worked with all the knowledge at his command; he himself felt that
+he had worked as one inspired,--so much so, in fact, that he now knew that
+never again in all his life would he be able to surpass or even equal the
+effort of that unforgettable day. But he had recognised the futility of
+skill even as it was being exerted to its utmost accomplishments. The
+inevitable was bared to his intelligence. He had done his best for
+Templeton Thorpe; no man could have done more than that. With the eyes of
+other men upon him, eyes that saw all that he saw, he took it upon himself
+to spare his grandfather the few days that might have been added to his
+hell by an act less kind,--though no doubt more eminently professional.
+
+And as he performed that final act of mercy, his mind and heart were on
+the handshake, and the word of farewell that his benefactor had murmured
+in his ear. Templeton Thorpe was at rest; he had thanked his grandson in
+advance.
+
+So it was that Braden slept the night through without a tremor. But with
+his waking came the sense of responsibility to others. Not to the world at
+large, not to the wife of the dead man, but to the three sincere and
+honourable members of his profession, who, no doubt, found themselves in a
+most trying position. They were, in a way, his judges, and as such they
+were compelled to accept their own testimony as evidence for or against
+him. With him it was a matter of principle, with them a question of
+ethics. As men they were in all probability applauding his act, but as
+doctors they were bound by the first and paramount teachings of their
+profession to convict him of an unspeakable wrong. It was his duty to
+grant these men the right to speak of what they had seen.
+
+He went first to see Dr. Bates, his oldest friend and counsellor, and the
+one man who could afterwards speak freely with the widow of the man who
+had been his lifelong patient. Going down in the elevator from his room at
+the hotel, Braden happened to glance at himself in the narrow mirror. He
+was startled into a second sharp, investigating look. Strange that he had
+not observed while shaving how thin his face had become. His cheeks seemed
+to have flattened out leanly over night; his heavy eyes looked out from
+shadowy recesses that he had failed to take account of before; there were
+deeper lines at the corners of his mouth, as if newly strengthened by some
+artful sculptor while he slept. He was older by years for that unguarded
+sleep. Time had taken him unawares; it had slyly seized the opportunity to
+remould his features while youth was weak from exhaustion. In a vague way
+he recalled a certain mysterious change in Anne Tresslyn's face. It was
+not age that had wrought the change in her, nor could it be age that had
+done the same for him.
+
+The solution came to him suddenly, as he stepped out into the open air and
+saw the faces of other men. It was strength, not weakness, that had put
+its stamp upon his countenance, and upon Anne's; the strength that
+survives the constructive years, the years of development. He saw this
+set, firm strength in the faces of other men for the first time. They too
+no doubt had awakened abruptly from the dream of ambition to find
+themselves dominated by a purpose. That purpose was in their faces.
+Ambition was back of that purpose perhaps, deep in the soul of the man,
+but purpose had become the necessity.
+
+Every man comes to that strange spot in the dash through life where he
+stops to divest himself of an ideal. He lays it down beside the road and,
+without noticing, picks up a resolve in its place and strides onward,
+scarcely conscious of the substitution. It requires strength to carry a
+resolve. An ideal carries itself and is no burden. So each of these men in
+the street,--truckman, motorman, merchant, clerk, what you will,--sets forth
+each day with the same old resolution at his heels; and in their set faces
+is the strength that comes with the transition from wonder to earnestness.
+Its mark was stamped upon the countenances of young and old alike. Even
+the beggar at the street corner below was without his ideal. Even he had a
+definite, determined purpose.
+
+Then there was that subtle change in Anne. He thought of it now, most
+unwillingly. He did not want to think of her. He was certain that he had
+put her out of his thoughts. Now he realised that she had merely lain
+dormant in his mind while it was filled with the intensities of the past
+few days. She had not been crowded out, after all. The sharp recollection
+of the impression he had had on seeing her immediately after his arrival
+was proof that she was still to be reckoned with in his thoughts.
+
+The strange, elusive maturity that had come into her young, smooth
+face,--that was it. Maturity without the passing of Youth; definiteness,
+understanding, discovery,--a grip on the realities of life, just as it was
+with him and all the others who were awake. A year in the life of a young
+thing like Anne could not have created the difference that he felt rather
+than saw.
+
+Something more significant than the dimensions of a twelve-month had added
+its measure to Anne's outlook upon life. She had turned a corner in the
+lane and was facing the vast plain she would have to cross unguided. She
+had come to the place where she must think and act for herself,--and to
+that place all men and all women come abruptly, one time or another, to
+become units in the multitude.
+
+We do not know when we pass that inevitable spot, nor have we the power to
+work backward and decide upon the exact moment when adolescence gave way
+to manhood. It comes and passes without our knowledge, and we are given a
+new vision in the twinkling of an eye, in a single beat of the heart. No
+man knows just when he becomes a man in his own reckoning. It is not a
+matter of years, nor growth, nor maturity of body and mind, but an
+awakening which goes unrecorded on the mind's scroll. Some men do not note
+the change until they are fifty, others when they are fifteen.
+Circumstance does the trick.
+
+He was still thinking of Anne as he hurried up the front door-steps and
+rang Dr. Bates' bell. She was not the same Anne that he had known and
+loved, far back in the days when he was young. Could it be possible that
+it was only a year ago? Was Anne so close to the present as all that, and
+yet so indefinably remote when it came to analysing this new look in her
+eyes? Was it only a year ago that she was so young and so unfound?
+
+A sudden sickness assailed him as he waited for the maid to open the door.
+Anne had been made a widow. He, not God, was responsible for this new
+phase in her life. Had he not put a dreadful charge upon her conscience?
+Had he not forced her to share the responsibility with him? And, while the
+rest of the world might forever remain in ignorance, would it ever be
+possible for her to hide the truth from herself?
+
+She knew what it all meant, and she had offered to share the consequences
+with him, no matter what course his judgment led him to pursue. He had not
+considered her until this instant as a partner in the undertaking, but now
+he realised that she must certainly be looking upon herself as such. His
+heart sank. He had made a hideous mistake. He should not have gone to her.
+She could not justify herself by the same means that were open to him.
+
+From her point of view, he had killed her husband, and with her consent!
+
+He found himself treating the dead man in a curiously detached fashion,
+and not as his own blood-relation. Her husband, that was the long and the
+short of his swift reflections, not his grandfather. All her life she
+would remember that she had supported him in an undertaking that had to do
+with the certain death of her husband, and no matter how merciful, how
+sensible that act may have been, or how earnestly he may have tried to see
+his way clear to follow a course opposed to the one he had taken, the fact
+remained that she had acknowledged herself prepared for just what
+subsequently happened in the operating room.
+
+Going back to the beginning, Templeton Thorpe's death was in her mind the
+day she married him. It had never been a question with her as to how he
+should die, but _when_. But this way to the desired end could never have
+been included in her calculations. _This_ was not the way out.
+
+She had been forced to take a stand with him in this unhappy business, and
+she would have to pay a cost that he could not share with her, for his
+conscience was clear. What were her thoughts to-day? With what ugly crime
+was she charging herself? Was she, in the secrecy of her soul, convicting
+herself of murder? Was _that_ what he had given her to think about all the
+rest of her life?
+
+The servant was slow in answering the bell. They always are at the homes
+of doctors.
+
+"Is Dr. Bates at home?"
+
+"Office hours from eight to nine, and four to six."
+
+"Say that Dr. Thorpe wishes to see him."
+
+This seemed to make a difference. "He is out, Dr. Thorpe. We expect him in
+any moment though. For lunch. Will you please to come in and wait?"
+
+"Thank you."
+
+She felt called upon to deliver a bit of information. "He went down to see
+Mrs. Thorpe, sir,--your poor grandmother."
+
+"I see," said Braden dully. It did not occur to him that enlightenment was
+necessary. A queer little chill ran through his veins. Was Dr. Bates down
+there now, telling Anne all that he knew, and was she, in the misery of
+remorse, making him her confessor? In the light of these disturbing
+thoughts, he was fast becoming blind to the real object of this, the first
+of the three visits he was to make.
+
+Dr. Bates found him staring gloomily from the window when he came into the
+office half an hour later, and at once put the wrong though obvious
+construction upon his mood.
+
+"Come, come, my boy," he said as they shook hands; "put it out of your
+mind. Don't let the thing weigh like this. You knew what you were about
+yesterday, so don't look back upon what happened with--"
+
+Braden interrupted him, irrelevantly. "You've been down to see Mrs.
+Thorpe. How is she? How does she appear to be taking it?" He spoke
+rapidly, nervously.
+
+"As well as could be expected," replied the older man drily. "She is glad
+that it's all over. So are we all, for that matter."
+
+"Did she send for you?"
+
+"Yes," said Dr. Bates, after an instant's hesitation. "I'll be frank with
+you, Braden. She wanted to know just what happened."
+
+"And you told her?"
+
+"I told her that you did everything that a man could do," said the other,
+choosing his words with care.
+
+"In other words, you did not tell her what happened."
+
+"I did not, my boy. There is no reason why she should know. It is better
+that she should never know," said Dr. Bates gravely.
+
+"What did she say?" asked Braden sharply.
+
+Dr. Bates suddenly was struck by the pallor in the drawn face. "See here,
+Braden, you must get a little rest. Take my advice and--"
+
+"Tell me what she had to say," insisted the young man.
+
+"She cried a little when I told her that you had done your best, and
+that's about all."
+
+"Didn't she confess that she expected--that she feared I might have--"
+
+"Confess? Why do you use that word?" demanded Dr. Bates, as the young man
+failed to complete his sentence. His gaze was now fixed intently on
+Braden's face. A suspicion was growing in his mind.
+
+"I am terribly distressed about something, Dr. Bates," said Braden,
+uneasily. "I wish you would tell me everything that Anne had to say to
+you."
+
+"Well, for one thing, she said that she knew you would do everything in
+your power to bring about a successful result. She seemed vastly relieved
+when I told her that you had done all that mortal man could do. I don't
+believe she has the faintest idea that--that an accident occurred. Now that
+I think of it, she did stop me when I undertook to convince her that your
+bark is worse than your bite, young man,--in other words, that your
+theories are for conversational and not practical purposes. Yes, she cut
+me off rather sharply. I hadn't attached any importance to her--See here,
+Braden," he demanded suddenly, "is there any reason why she should have
+cut me off like that? Had she cause to feel that you might have put into
+practice your--your--Come, come, you know what I mean." He was leaning
+forward in his chair, his hands gripping the arm-rests.
+
+"She is more or less in sympathy with my views," said Braden warily. "Of
+course, you could not expect her to be in sympathy with them in this case,
+however." He put it out as a feeler.
+
+"Well, I should say not!" exclaimed Dr. Bates. "It's conceivable that she
+may have been in some doubt, however, until I reassured her. By George, I
+am just beginning to see through her, Braden. She had me down there to--to
+set her mind at rest about--about _you_. 'Pon my soul, she did it neatly,
+too."
+
+"And she believes--you think she believes that her mind is at rest?"
+
+"That's an odd question. What do you mean?"
+
+"Just that. Does she believe that you told her the truth?"
+
+"Oh! I see. Well, a doctor has to tell a good many lies in the course of a
+year. He gets so that he can tell them with a straighter face than when
+he's telling the truth. I don't see why Mrs. Thorpe should doubt my
+word--my professional word--unless there is some very strong reason for
+doing so." He continued to eye Braden keenly. "Do you know of any reason?"
+
+Thorpe by this time was able to collect himself. The primal instinct to
+unburden himself to this old, understanding friend, embraced sturdy,
+outspoken argument in defence of his act, but this defence did not
+contemplate the possible inclusion of Anne. He was now satisfied that she
+had not delivered herself into the confidence of Dr. Bates. She had kept
+her secret close. It was not for him to make revelations. The newly
+aroused fear that even this good old friend might attach an unholy design
+to their motives impelled him to resort to equivocation, if not to actual
+falsehood. This was a side to the matter that had not been considered by
+him till now. But he was now acutely aware of an ugly conviction that she
+had thought of it afterwards, just as he was thinking of it now, hence her
+failure to repeat to Dr. Bates the substance of their discussion before
+the operation took place.
+
+He experienced an unaccountable, disquieting sensation of guilt, of
+complicity in an evil deed, of a certain slyness that urged him to hide
+something from this shrewd old man. To his utter amazement, he was saying
+to himself that he must not "squeal" on Anne, his partner! He now knew
+that he could never speak of what had passed between himself and Anne. Of
+his own part in the affair he could speak frankly with this man, and with
+all men, and be assured that no sinister motive would be attributed to
+him. He would be free from the slightest trace of suspicion so long as he
+stood alone in accounts of the happenings of the day before. No matter how
+violent the criticism or how bitter the excoriation, he would at least be
+credited with honest intentions. But the mere mention of Anne's name would
+be the signal for a cry from the housetops, and all the world would hear.
+And Anne's name would sound the death knell of "honest intentions."
+
+"As I said a moment ago, Dr. Bates, Mrs. Thorpe is fully aware of my
+rather revolutionary views," he said, not answering the question with
+directness. "That was enough to cause some uneasiness on my part."
+
+"Um! I dare say," said Dr. Bates thoughtfully. Back in his mind was the
+recollection of a broken engagement, or something of the sort. "I see.
+Naturally. I think, on the whole, my boy, she believes that I told her the
+truth. You needn't be uneasy on that score. I--I--for a moment I had an idea
+that you might have _said_ something to her." It was almost a question.
+
+Braden shook his head. His eyes did not flicker as he answered steadily:
+"Surely you cannot think that I would have so much as mentioned my views
+in discussing--"
+
+"Certainly not, my boy," cried the other heartily. Braden did not fail to
+note the look of relief in his eye, however. "So now you are all right as
+far as Mrs. Thorpe is concerned. I made a point of assuring her that
+everything went off satisfactorily to the three of us. She need never know
+the truth. You needn't feel that you cannot look her in the eyes, Braden."
+
+"'Gad, that sounds sinister," exclaimed Thorpe, staring. "That's what they
+say when they are talking about thieves and liars, Dr. Bates."
+
+"I beg your pardon. I meant well, my boy, although perhaps it wasn't the
+nice thing to say. And now have you come to tell me that it was an
+accident, an unfortunate--"
+
+"No," said Braden, straightening up. "I come to you first, Dr. Bates,
+because you are my oldest friend and supporter, and because you were the
+lifelong friend of my grandfather. I am going also to Dr. Bray and Dr.
+Ernest after I leave here. I do not want any one of you to feel that I
+expect you to shield me in this matter. You are at liberty to tell all
+that you know. I did what I thought was best, what my conscience ordered
+me to do, and I did it openly in the presence of three witnesses. There
+was no accident. No one may say that I bungled. No one--"
+
+"I should say you didn't bungle," said the older man. "I never witnessed a
+finer--ahem! In fact, we all agree on that. My boy, you have a great future
+before you. You are one of the most skilful--"
+
+"Thanks. I didn't come to hear words of praise, Dr. Bates. I came to
+release you from any obligation that you may--"
+
+"Tut, tut! That's all right. We understand--perfectly. All three of us. I
+have talked it over with Bray and Ernest. What happened up there yesterday
+is as a closed book. We shall never open it. I will not go so far as to
+say that we support your theories, but we do applaud your method. There
+isn't one of us who would not have _felt_ like doing the thing you did,
+but on the other hand there isn't one of us who could have done it. We
+would have allowed him a few more days of life. Now that it is all over, I
+will not say that you did wrong. I can only say that it was not right to
+do the thing you did. However, it is your conscience and not mine that
+carries the load,--if there is one. You may rest assured that not one of us
+will ever voluntarily describe what actually took place."
+
+"But I do not want to feel that you regard it your duty to protect me from
+the consequences of a deliberate--"
+
+"See here, my lad, do you want the world to know that you took your
+grandfather's life? That's what it amounts to, you know. You can't go
+behind the facts."
+
+Thorpe lowered his head. "It would be ridiculous for me to say that I do
+not care whether the world knows the truth about it, Dr. Bates. To be
+quite honest, sir, I do not want the world to know. You will understand
+why, in this particular instance, I should dread publicity. Mr. Thorpe was
+my grandfather. He was my benefactor. But that isn't the point. I had no
+legal right to do the thing I did. I took it upon myself to take a step
+that is not now countenanced by the law or by our profession. I did this
+in the presence of witnesses. What I want to make clear to you and to the
+other doctors is that I should have acted differently if my patient had
+been any one else in the world. I loved my grandfather. He was my only
+friend. He expected me to do him a great service yesterday. I could not
+fail him, sir. When I saw that there was nothing before him but a few
+awful days of agony, I did what he would have blessed me for doing had he
+been conscious. If my patient had been any one else I should have adhered
+strictly to the teachings of my profession. I would not have broken the
+law."
+
+"Your grandfather knew when he went up to the operating room that he was
+not to leave it alive. Is that the case?"
+
+"He did not expect to leave it alive, sir," amended Braden steadily.
+
+"You had talked it all over with him?"
+
+"I had agreed to perform the operation, that is all, sir. He knew that his
+case was hopeless. That is why he insisted on having the operation
+performed."
+
+"In other words, he deliberately put you in your present position? He set
+his mind on forcing this thing upon you? Then all I have to say for
+Templeton Thorpe is that he was a damned--But there, he's dead and gone
+and, thank God, he can't hear me. You must understand, Braden, that this
+statement of yours throws an entirely new light upon the case," said Dr.
+Bates gravely. "The fact that it was actually expected of you makes your
+act a--er--shall we say less inspirational? I do not believe it wise for you
+to make this statement to my colleagues. You are quite safe in telling me,
+for I understand the situation perfectly. But if you tell them that there
+was an agreement--even a provisional agreement--I--well, the thing will not
+look the same to them."
+
+"You are right, Dr. Bates," said Braden, after a moment. "Thank you for
+the advice. I see what you mean. I shall not tell them all that I have
+told you. Still, I am determined to see them and--"
+
+"Quite so. It is right that you should. Give them cause to respect you, my
+boy. They saw everything. They are sound, just men. From what they have
+said to me, you may rest assured that they do not condemn you any more
+than I do. The anaesthetician saw nothing. He was occupied. That young
+fellow--what's his name?--may have been more capable of observing than we'd
+suspect in one so tender, but I fancy he wouldn't know _everything_. I
+happen to know that he saw the knife slip. He mentioned it to Simeon
+Dodge."
+
+"To Simmy Dodge!"
+
+"Yes. Dodge came to see me last night. He told me that the boy made some
+queer statement to him about the pylorus, and he seemed to be troubled. I
+set him straight in the matter. He doesn't know any more about the pylorus
+than he knew before, but he does know that no surgeon on earth could have
+avoided the accident that befell you in the crisis. Simmy, good soul, was
+for going out at once and buying off the interne, but I stopped him. We
+will take care of the young man. He doesn't say it was intentional, and we
+will convince him that it wasn't. How do you stand with young George
+Tresslyn?"
+
+"I don't know. He used to like me. I haven't seen--"
+
+"It appears that Simmy first inquired of George if he knew anything about
+the pylorus. He is Mrs. Thorpe's brother. I should be sorry if he got it
+into his head that--well, that there was anything wrong, anything that
+might take him to her with ugly questions."
+
+"I shall have to chance that, Dr. Bates," said Braden grimly.
+
+"Mrs. Thorpe must never know, Braden," said the other, gripping his hands
+behind his back.
+
+"If it gets out, she can't help knowing. She may suspect even now--"
+
+"But it is not to get out. There may be rumours starting from this
+interne's remark and supported by your avowed doctrines, but we must
+combine to suppress them. The newspapers cannot print a line without our
+authority, and they'll never get it. They will not dare to print a rumour
+that cannot be substantiated. I spoke of George a moment ago for a very
+good reason. I am afraid of him. He has been going down hill pretty fast
+of late. It wouldn't surprise me to hear that he had sunk low enough to
+attempt blackmail."
+
+"Good heaven! Why--why, he's not that sort--"
+
+"Don't be too sure of him. He is almost in the gutter, they say. He's
+_that_ sort, at any rate."
+
+"I don't believe George ever did a crooked thing in his life, poor devil.
+He wouldn't dream of coming to me with a demand for--"
+
+"He wouldn't come to you," said the other, sententiously. "He would not
+have the courage to do that. But he might go to Anne. Do you see what I
+mean?"
+
+Braden shook his head. He recalled George's experiences in the sick-room
+and the opportunity that had been laid before him. "I see what you mean,
+but George--well, he's not as bad as you think, Dr. Bates."
+
+"We'll see," said the older man briefly. "I hope he's the man you seem to
+think he is. I am afraid of him."
+
+"He loves his sister, Dr. Bates."
+
+"In that case he may not attempt to blackmail her, but it would not
+prevent his going to her with his story. The fact that he does love her
+may prove to be your greatest misfortune."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"As I said before, Anne must never know," said Dr. Bates, laying his hand
+on the young man's shoulder and gripping it suddenly. "Your grandfather
+talked quite freely with me toward the end. No; Anne must never know."
+
+Braden stared at the floor in utter perplexity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+Wade went through the unnecessary form of "giving notice" a day or two
+after his old master was laid to rest. On the day that Templeton Thorpe
+went to the hospital he abandoned an almost lifelong habit of cocking his
+head in an attitude of listening, and went about the house with the
+corners of his mouth drooping instead of maintaining their everlasting
+twist upward in the set smile of humility.
+
+He had been there for thirty years and more, and now he was no longer
+needed. He would have to get out. He had saved a little money,--not much,
+but enough to start a small business of some sort,--and he was complaining
+bitterly to himself of the fate that deprived him of Mr. Thorpe's advice
+just when it was imperative that he should know what enterprise would be
+the safest for him to undertake. It nettled him to think that he had
+failed to take advantage of his opportunities while this shrewd, capable
+old man was alive and in a position to set him on the right path to
+prosperity. He should have had the sense to look forward to this very day.
+
+For thirty years he had gone on believing that he knew so much more than
+Mr. Thorpe that Mr. Thorpe couldn't possibly get along without him, and
+now he was brought up sharply against the discovery that he couldn't get
+along without Mr. Thorpe. For thirty years he had done only the things
+that Mr. Thorpe wanted him to do, instructed him to do, or even drove him
+to do. Suddenly he found himself with absolutely nothing to do, or at any
+rate with no one to tell him what to do, and instead of a free and
+independent agent, with no one to order him about, he wasn't anything,--he
+wasn't anything at all. This was not what he had been looking forward to
+with such complacency and confidence. He was like a lost soul. No one to
+tell him what to do! No one to valet! No one to call him a blundering
+idiot! No one to despise except himself! And he had waited thirty years
+for the day to come when he could be his own man, with the power to tell
+every one to go to the devil--and to do so himself if he saw fit. He hardly
+recognised himself when he looked in the mirror. Was that scared, bleak,
+wobegone face a reflection? Was he really like that?
+
+He was filled with a bitter rage against Mr. Thorpe. How he hated him for
+dying like this and leaving him with nothing to do after all these years
+of faithful service. And how shocked he was, and frightened, to discover
+himself wanting to pause outside his master's door with his head cocked to
+hear the voice that would never shout out to him again.
+
+He knew to a penny just how much he had in the Savings Banks about town,--a
+trifle over twelve thousand dollars, the hoardings of thirty years. He had
+gone on being a valet all these years without a single thought of being
+anything else, and yet he had always looked forward to the day when he
+could go into some nice, genteel little business for himself,--when he
+could step out of service and enjoy life to the full. But how was he to go
+about stepping out of service and into a nice, genteel little business
+without Mr. Thorpe to tell him what to do? Here was he, sixty-five years
+old, without a purpose in life. Beginning life at sixty-five!
+
+Of course, young Mrs. Thorpe would have no use for a valet. No doubt she
+would marry again,--Wade had his notions!--but he couldn't think of
+subjecting himself to the incompetency of a new master, even though his
+old place were held open for him. He would not be able to adjust himself
+to another master,--or to put it in his own words, it would be impossible
+to adjust another master to himself. Young Master Braden might give him
+something to do for the sake of old times, but then again Mrs. Thorpe
+would have to be taken into consideration. Wade hadn't the slightest doubt
+that she would one day "marry into the family again." As a matter of fact,
+he believed in his soul that there was an understanding between the young
+people. There were moments when he squinted his eyes and cringed a little.
+He would have given a great deal to be able to put certain thoughts out of
+his mind.
+
+And then there was another reason for not wanting to enter the service of
+Dr. Braden Thorpe. Suppose he were to become critically ill. Would he, in
+that event, feel at liberty to call in an outside doctor to take charge of
+his case? Would it not be natural for Dr. Braden to attend him? And
+suppose that Dr. Braden were to conclude that he couldn't get well!
+
+He gave notice to Murray, the butler. He hated to do this, for he despised
+Murray. The butler would not have to go. He too had been with Mr. Thorpe
+for more than a quarter of a century, and death had not robbed him of a
+situation. What manner of justice was it that permitted Murray to go on
+being useful while he had to go out into the world and become a burden to
+himself?
+
+"Murray informs me, Wade, that you have given notice," said Anne, looking
+up as he shuffled into an attitude before her. "He says that you have
+saved quite a lot of money and are therefore independent. I am happy to
+hear that you are in a position to spend the remainder of your life in
+ease and--why, what is the matter, Wade?"
+
+He was very pale, and swayed slightly. "If you please, madam, Murray is
+mistaken," he mumbled. An idea was forming in his unhappy brain. "I--I am
+leaving because I realise that you no longer have any use for my services,
+and not because I am--er--well off, as the saying is. I shall try to get
+another place." His mind was clear now. The idea was completely formed.
+"Of course, it will be no easy matter to find a place at my age,
+but,--well, a man must live, you know." He straightened up a bit, as if a
+weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
+
+She was puzzled. "But you have money, Wade. You have worked hard. You have
+earned a good rest. Why should you go on slaving for other people?"
+
+"Alas," said Wade, resuming the patient smile that had been missing for
+days and cocking his head a little, "it is not for me to rest. Murray does
+not know everything. My savings are small. He does not know the uses to
+which I have been obliged to--I beg pardon, madam, you cannot, of course,
+be interested in my poor affairs." He was very humble.
+
+"But Mr. Thorpe always spoke of you as an exceedingly thrifty man. I am
+sure that he believed you to be comfortably fixed for life, Wade."
+
+"Quite so," agreed Wade. "And I should have been had it been possible to
+lay by with all these unmentioned obligations crowding upon me, year in,
+year out."
+
+"Your family? I did not know that there was any one dependent upon you."
+
+"I have never spoken of my affairs, ma'am," said Wade. "It is not for a
+servant to trouble his employer with--ahem! You understand, I am sure."
+
+"Perfectly. I am sorry."
+
+"So I thought I would give notice at once, madam, so that I might be on
+the lookout as soon as possible for a new place. You see, I shall soon be
+too old to apply for a place, whilst if I manage to secure one in time I
+may be allowed to stay on in spite of my age."
+
+"Have you anything in view?"
+
+"Nothing, madam. I am quite at a loss where to--"
+
+"Take all the time you like, Wade," she said, genuinely sorry for the man.
+She never had liked him. He was the one man in all the world who might
+have pitied her for the mistake she had made, and he had steeled his heart
+against her. She knew that he felt nothing but scorn for her, and yet she
+was sorry for him. This was new proof to her that she had misjudged her
+own heart. It was a softer thing than she had supposed. "Stay on here
+until you find something satisfactory. Mr. Thorpe would have wished you to
+stay. You were a very faithful friend to him, Wade. He set great store by
+you."
+
+"Thank you, madam. You are very kind. Of course, I shall strive to make
+myself useful while I remain. I dare say Murray can find something for me
+to do. Temporarily, at least, I might undertake the duties of the furnace
+man and handy-man about the house. He is leaving to-morrow, I hear. If you
+will be so good as to tell Murray that I am to take O'Toole's
+place,--temporarily, of course,--I shall be very grateful. It will give me
+time to collect my thoughts, ma'am."
+
+"It will not be necessary, Wade, for you to take on O'Toole's work. I am
+not asking you to perform hard, manual labor. You must not feel that my--"
+
+"Pardon me, madam," interrupted he; "I very much prefer to do some sort of
+regular work, if I may be permitted."
+
+She smiled. "You will find Murray a hard task-master, I am afraid."
+
+He took a long breath, as of relief--or could it have been pleasure? "I
+quite understand that, madam. He is a martinet. Still, I shall not mind."
+The same thought was in the mind of each: he was accustomed to serving a
+hard task-master. "If you don't mind, I shall take O'Toole's place until
+you find some one else. To-morrow I shall move my belongings from the room
+upstairs to O'Toole's room off the furnace-room. Thank--"
+
+"No!" she exclaimed. "You are not to do that. Keep your old room, Wade.
+I--I cannot allow you to go down there. Mr. Thorpe would never forgive me
+if he knew that--" He lifted his eyes at the sudden pause and saw that she
+was very white. Was she too afraid of ghosts?
+
+"It's very good of you," he said after a moment. "I shall do as you wish
+in everything, and I shall let you know the instant I find another place."
+He cleared his throat. "I fear, madam, that in the confusion of the past
+few days I have failed to express to you my sympathy. I assure you the
+oversight was not--"
+
+She was looking straight into his eyes. "Thank you, Wade," she interrupted
+coldly. "Your own grief would be sufficient excuse, if any were necessary.
+If you will send Murray to me I will tell him that you have withdrawn your
+notice and will stay on in O'Toole's place. It will not be necessary for
+him to engage another furnace-man at present."
+
+"No, ma'am," said Wade, and then added without a trace of irony in his
+voice: "At any rate not until cold weather sets in."
+
+And so it was that this man solved the greatest problem that had ever
+confronted him. He went down into the cellars to take orders from the man
+he hated, from the man who would snarl at him and curse him and humiliate
+him to the bitter end, and all because he knew that he could not begin
+life over again. He wanted to be ordered about, he wanted to be snarled at
+by an overbearing task-master. It simplified everything. He would never be
+called upon to think for himself. Thorpe or Murray, what mattered which of
+them was in command? It was all the same to him. His dignity passed, away
+with the passing of his career as a "Man," and he rejoiced in the belief
+that he had successfully evaded the responsibilities that threatened him
+up to the moment he entered the presence of the mistress of the house. He
+was no longer without a purpose in life. He would not have to go out and
+be independent.
+
+Toward the end of the second week Templeton Thorpe's will was read by
+Judge Hollenback in the presence of "the family." There had been some
+delay on account of Braden Thorpe's absence from the city. No one knew
+where he had gone, nor was he ever to explain his sudden departure
+immediately after the funeral. He simply disappeared from his hotel,
+without so much as a bag or a change of linen in his possession, so far as
+one could know. At the end of ten days he returned as suddenly and as
+casually as he had gone away, but very much improved in appearance. The
+strange pallor had left his cheeks and his eyes had lost the heavy, tired
+expression.
+
+At first he flatly refused to go down for the reading of the will. He was
+not a beneficiary under the new instrument and he could see no reason for
+his attendance. Anne alone understood. The old vow not to enter the house
+while she was its mistress,--that was the reason. He was now in a position
+to revive that vow and to order his actions accordingly.
+
+She drooped a little at the thought of it. From time to time she caught
+herself wishing that she could devise some means of punishing him, only to
+berate herself afterward for the selfishness that inspired the thought.
+
+Still, why shouldn't he come there now? She was the same now that she was
+before her marriage took place,--a year older, that was all, but no less
+desirable. That was the one thing she could not understand in him. She
+could understand his disgust, his scorn, his rage, but she could not see
+how it was possible for him to hold out against the qualities that had
+made him love her so deeply before she gave him cause to hate her.
+
+As for the operation that had resulted in the death of her husband, Anne
+had but one way of looking at it. Braden had been forced to operate
+against his will, against his best judgment. He was to be pitied. His
+grandfather had failed in his attempt to corrupt the souls of others in
+his desire for peace, and there remained but the one cowardly alternative:
+the appeal to this man who loved him. In his extremity, he had put upon
+Braden the task of performing a miracle, knowing full well that its
+accomplishment was impossible, that failure was as inevitable as death
+itself.
+
+The thought never entered her mind that in persuading Braden to perform
+this strange act of mercy her husband may have been moved by the sole
+desire to put the final touch to the barrier he had wrought between them.
+The fact that Braden was responsible for his death had no sinister meaning
+for her. It was the same as if he had operated upon a total stranger with
+a like result and with perhaps identical motives.
+
+She kept on saying to herself that she had given up hope of ever regaining
+the love she had lost. She tried to remember just when she had ceased to
+hope. Was it before or after that last conversation took place in the
+library? Hope may have died, but he was alive and she was alive. Then how
+could love be dead?
+
+It was Simmy Dodge who prevailed upon Braden to be present at the reading
+of the will. Simmy was the sort of man who goes about, in the goodness of
+his heart, adjusting matters for other people. He constituted himself in
+this instance, however, as the legal adviser of his old friend and
+companion, and that gave him a certain amount of authority.
+
+"And what's more," he said in arguing with the obdurate Braden, "we'll
+probably have to smash the will, if, as you say, you have been cut off
+without a nickel. You--"
+
+"But I don't want to smash it," protested Braden.
+
+"And why not?" demanded Simmy, in surprise. "You are his only blood
+relation, aren't you? Why the deuce should he leave everything away from
+you? Of course we'll make a fight for it. I've never heard of a more
+outrageous piece of--"
+
+"You don't understand, Simmy," Braden interrupted, suddenly realising that
+his position would be a difficult one to explain, even to this good and
+loyal friend. "We'll drop the matter for the present, at any rate."
+
+"But why should Mr. Thorpe have done this rotten, inconceivable thing to
+you, Brady?" demanded Dodge. "Good Lord, that will won't stand a minute in
+a court of--"
+
+"It will stand so far as I'm concerned," said Braden sharply, and Simmy
+blinked his eyes in bewilderment.
+
+"You wouldn't be fighting Anne, you know," he ventured after a moment,
+assuming that Braden's attitude was due to reluctance in that direction.
+"She is provided for outside the will, she tells me."
+
+"Are you her attorney, Simmy?"
+
+"Yes. That is, the firm represents her, and I'm one of the firm."
+
+"I don't see how you can represent both of us, old chap."
+
+"That's just what I'm trying to get into your head. I couldn't represent
+you if there was to be a fight with Anne. But we can fight these idiotic
+charities, can't we?"
+
+"No," said Braden flatly. "My grandfather's will is to stand just as it
+is, Simmy. I shall not contest for a cent. And so, if you please, there's
+no reason for my going down there to listen to the reading of the thing. I
+know pretty well what the document says. I was in Mr. Thorpe's confidence.
+For your own edification, Simmy, I'll merely say that I have already had
+my share of the estate, and I'm satisfied."
+
+"Still, in common decency, you ought to go down and listen to the reading
+of the will. Judge Hollenback says he will put the thing off until you are
+present, so you might as well go first as last. Be reasonable, Brady. I
+know how you feel toward Anne. I can appreciate your unwillingness to go
+to her house after what happened a year ago. Judge Hollenback declares
+that his letter of instruction from Mr. Thorpe makes it obligatory for him
+to read the document in the presence of his widow and his grandson, and in
+the library of his late home. Otherwise, the thing could have been done in
+Hollenback's offices."
+
+In the end Braden agreed to be present.
+
+When Judge Hollenback smoothed out the far from voluminous looking
+document, readjusted his nose glasses and cleared his throat preparatory
+to reading, the following persons were seated in the big, fire-lit
+library: Anne Thorpe, the widow; Braden Thorpe, the grandson; Mrs.
+Tresslyn, George Tresslyn, Simmy Dodge, Murray, and Wade, the furnace-man.
+The two Tresslyns were there by Anne's request. Late in the day she was
+overcome by the thought of sitting there alone while Braden was being
+dispossessed of all that rightfully belonged to him. She had not intended
+to ask her mother to come down for the reading. Somehow she had felt that
+Mrs. Tresslyn's presence would indicate the consummation of a project that
+had something ignoble about it. She knew that her mother could experience
+no other sensation than that of curiosity in listening to the will. Her
+interest in the affairs of Templeton Thorpe ended with the signing of the
+ante-nuptial contract, supplemented of course by the event which
+satisfactorily terminated the agreement inside of a twelve-month. But
+Anne, practically alone in the world as she now found herself to be, was
+suddenly aware of a great sense of depression. She wanted her mother. She
+wanted some one near who would not look at her with scornful, bitter eyes.
+
+George's presence is to be quickly explained. He had spent the better part
+of the week with Anne, sleeping in the house at her behest. For a week she
+had braved it out alone. Then came the sudden surrender to dread, terror,
+loneliness. The shadows in the halls were grim; the sounds in the night
+were sinister, the stillness that followed them creepy; the servants were
+things that stalked her, and she was afraid--mortally afraid in this home
+that was not hers. She had made up her mind to go away for a long time
+just as soon as everything was settled.
+
+As for the furnace-man, Judge Hollenback had summoned him on his arrival
+at the house. So readily had Wade adapted himself to his new duties that
+he now felt extremely uncomfortable and ill-at-ease in a room that had
+been like home to him for thirty years. He seemed to feel that this was no
+place for the furnace-man, notwithstanding the scouring and polishing
+process that temporarily had restored him to a more exalted office,--for
+once more he was the smug, impeccable valet.
+
+Braden was the last to arrive. He timed his arrival so that there could be
+no possibility of an informal encounter with Anne. She came forward and
+shook hands with him, simply, unaffectedly.
+
+"You have been away," she said, looking straight into his eyes. He was
+conscious of a feeling of relief. He had been living in some dread of what
+he might detect in her eyes. But it was a serene, frank expression that he
+found in them, not a question.
+
+"Yes," he said. "I was tired," he added after a moment.
+
+She hesitated. Then: "I have not seen you, Braden, since--since the twenty-
+first. You have not given me the opportunity to tell you that I know you
+did all that any one could possibly do for Mr. Thorpe. Thank you for
+undertaking the impossible. I am sorry--oh, so sorry,--that you were made to
+suffer. I want you to remember too that it was with my sanction that you
+made the hopeless effort."
+
+He turned cold. The others had heard every word. She had spoken without
+reserve, without the slightest indication of nervousness or compunction.
+The very thing that he feared had come to pass. She had put herself
+definitely on record. He glanced quickly about, searching the faces of the
+other occupants of the room. His gaze fell upon Wade, and rested for a
+second or two. Something told him that Wade's gaze would shift,--and it
+did.
+
+"I did everything, Anne. Thank you for believing in me." That was all. No
+word of sympathy, no mawkish mumbling of regret, no allusion to his own
+loss. He looked again into her eyes, this time in quest of the motive that
+urged her to make this unnecessary declaration. Was there a deeper
+significance to be attached to her readiness to assume responsibility? He
+looked for the light in her eye that would convince him that she was
+taking this stand because of the love she felt for him. He was
+immeasurably relieved to find no secret message there. She had not stooped
+to that, and he was gratified. Her eyes were clouded with concern for him,
+that was all. He was ashamed of himself for the thought,--and afterwards he
+wondered why he should have been ashamed. After all, it was only right
+that she should be sorry for him. He deserved that much from her.
+
+An awkward silence ensued. Simmy Dodge coughed nervously, and then Braden
+advanced to greet Mrs. Tresslyn. She did not rise. Her gloved hand was
+extended and he took it without hesitation.
+
+"It is good to see you again, Braden," she said, with the bland,
+perfunctory parting of the lips that stands for a smile with women of her
+class. He meant nothing to her now.
+
+"Thanks," he said, and moved on to George, who regarded him with some
+intensity for a moment and then gripped his hand heartily. "How are you,
+George?"
+
+"Fine! First stage of regeneration, you know. I'm glad to see you, Brady."
+
+There was such warmth in the repressed tones that Thorpe's hand clasp
+tightened. Tresslyn was still a friend. His interest quickened into a keen
+examination of the young man who had pronounced himself in the first stage
+of regeneration, whatever that may have signified to one of George's type.
+He was startled by the haggard, sick look in the young fellow's face.
+George must have read the other's expression, for he said: "I'm all
+right,--just a little run down. That's natural, I suppose."
+
+"He has a dreadful cold," said Anne, who had overheard. "I can't get him
+to do anything for it."
+
+"Don't you worry about me, Anne," said George stoutly.
+
+"Just the same, you should take care of yourself," said Braden. "Pneumonia
+gets after you big fellows, you know. How are you, Wade? Poor old Wade,
+you must miss my grandfather terribly. You knew him before I was born. It
+seems an age, now that I think of it in that way."
+
+"Thirty-three years, sir," said Wade. "Nearly ten years longer than
+Murray, Mr. Braden, It does seem an age."
+
+The will was not a lengthy document. The reading took no more than three
+minutes, and for another full minute after its conclusion, not a person in
+the room uttered a word. A sort of stupefaction held them all in its
+grip,--that is, all except the old lawyer who was putting away his glasses
+and waiting for the outburst that was sure to follow.
+
+In the first place, Mr. Thorpe remembered Anne. After declaring that she
+had been satisfactorily provided for in a previous document, known to her
+as a contract, he bequeathed to her the house in which she had lived for a
+single year with him. All of its contents went with this bequest. To
+Josiah Wade he left the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars, to Edward
+Murray ten thousand dollars, and to each of the remaining servants in his
+household a sum equal to half of their earnings while in his service.
+There were bequests to his lawyer, his doctor and his secretary, besides
+substantial gifts to persons who could not by any chance have expected
+anything from this grim old man,--such as the friendly doorman at his
+favourite club, and the man who had been delivering newspapers to him for
+a score of years or more, and the old negro bootblack who had attended him
+at the Brevoort in the days before the Italian monopoly set in, and the
+two working-girls who supported the invalid widow of a man who had gone to
+prison and died there after having robbed the Thorpe estate of a great
+many thousands of dollars while acting as a confidential and trusted
+agent.
+
+Then came the astounding disposition of the fortune that had accumulated
+in the time of Templeton Thorpe. There were no bequests outright to
+charity, contrary to all expectations. The listeners were prepared to hear
+of huge gifts to certain institutions and societies known to have been
+favoured by the testator. Various hospitals were looked upon as sure to
+receive splendid endowments, and specific colleges devoted to the
+advancement of medical and surgical science were also regarded as
+inevitable beneficiaries. It was all cut and dried, so far as Judge
+Hollenback's auditors were concerned,--that is to say, prior to the reading
+of the will. True, the old lawyer had declared in the beginning, that the
+present will was drawn and signed on the afternoon of the day before the
+death of Mr. Thorpe, and that a previous instrument to which a codicil had
+been affixed was destroyed in the presence of two witnesses. The
+instrument witnessed by Wade and Murray was the one that had been
+destroyed. This should have aroused uneasiness in the mind of Braden
+Thorpe, if no one else, but he was slow to recognise the significance of
+the change in his grandfather's designs.
+
+With his customary terseness, Templeton Thorpe declared himself to be
+hopelessly ill but of sound mind at the moment of drawing his last will
+and testament, and suffering beyond all human endurance. His condition at
+that moment, and for weeks beforehand, was such that death offered the
+only panacea. He had come to appreciate the curse of a life prolonged
+beyond reason. Therefore, in full possession of all his faculties and
+being now irrevocably converted to the principles of mercy advocated by
+his beloved grandson, Braden Lanier Thorpe, he placed the residue of his
+estate in trust, naming the aforesaid Braden Lanier Thorpe as sole
+trustee, without bond, the entire amount to be utilised and expended by
+him in the promotion of his noble and humane propaganda in relation to the
+fate of the hopelessly afflicted among those creatures fashioned after the
+image of God. The trust was to expire with the death of the said Braden
+Lanier Thorpe, when all funds remaining unused for the purposes herein set
+forth were to go without restriction to the heirs of the said trustee,
+either by bequest or administration.
+
+In so many words, the testator rested in his grandson full power and
+authority to use these funds, amounting to nearly six million dollars, as
+he saw fit in the effort to obtain for the human sufferer the same mercy
+that is extended to the beast of the field, and to make final disposition
+of the estate in his own will. Realising the present hopelessness of an
+attempt to secure legislation of this character, he suggested that first
+of all it would be imperative to prepare the way to such an end by
+creating in the minds of all the peoples of the world a state of common
+sense that could successfully combat and overcome love, sentimentality and
+cowardice! For these three, he pointed out, were the common enemy of
+reason. "And in compensation for the discharge of such duties as may come
+under the requirements of this trusteeship, the aforesaid Braden Lanier
+Thorpe shall receive the fees ordinarily allotted by law and, in addition,
+the salary of twenty-five thousand dollars per annum, until the terms of
+this instrument are fully carried out."
+
+Anne Tresslyn Thorpe was named as executrix of the will.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Simmy Dodge was the first to speak. He was the first to grasp the full
+meaning of this deliberately ambiguous will. His face cleared.
+
+"By Jove!" he exclaimed, without respect for the proprieties. He slapped
+Braden on the back, somewhat enthusiastically. "We sha'n't have to smash
+it, after all. It's the cleverest thing I've ever listened to, old man.
+What a head your grandfather had on his--"
+
+Braden leaped to his feet, his face quivering. "Of course we'll smash it,"
+he stormed. "Do you suppose or imagine for an instant that I will allow
+such a thing as that to stand? Do you--"
+
+"Go slow, Brady, go slow," broke in his excited, self-appointed lawyer.
+"Can't you see through it? Can't you see what he was after? Why, good
+Lord, man, he has made you the principal legatee,--he has actually given
+you _everything_. All this rigmarole about a trust or a foundation or
+whatever you want to call it amounts to absolutely nothing. The money is
+yours to do what you like with as long as you live. You have complete
+control of every dollar of it. No one else has a thing to say about it.
+Why, it's the slickest, soundest will I've--"
+
+"Oh, my God!" groaned Braden, dropping into a chair and covering his face
+with his hands.
+
+Judge Hollenback was smiling benignly. He had drawn the will. He knew that
+it was sound, if not "slick," as Simmy had described it. The three
+Tresslyns leaned forward in their chairs, bewildered, dumbfounded. Their
+gaze was fixed on the shaking figure of Braden Thorpe.
+
+As for Wade, he had sunk helplessly into a chair. A strange, hunted look
+appeared in his eyes. His chin sank lower and lower, and his body
+twitched. He was not caring what happened to Braden Thorpe, he was not
+even thinking about the vast fortune that had been placed at the young
+man's disposal. His soul was sick. In spite of all that he could do to
+prevent it, his gaze went furtively to Murray's rubicund jowl, and then
+shifted to the rapt, eager face of his young mistress. Twenty-five
+thousand dollars! There was no excuse for him now. With all that money he
+could not hope to stay on in service. He was rich. He would have to go out
+into the world and shift for himself. He could not go on 'tending furnace
+for Mrs. Thorpe,--he couldn't take the bread out of some deserving
+wretch's mouth by hanging onto the job with all that money in his
+possession. Mrs. Thorpe would congratulate him on the morrow, and turn him
+out. And no one would tell him where to go,--unless it might be Murray, in
+a fit of anger.
+
+"Mr. Thorpe was not moved by any desire to circumvent certain--perhaps I
+should say that he intended you, Dr. Thorpe, to act in strict accordance
+with the provisions of the will," said Judge Hollenback. "He did not lose
+sight of the fact that he had promised to leave you out of his will
+completely. This money is not yours. It is in your hands as trustee. Mr.
+Dodge is wrong. Your grandfather was very deeply in earnest when he
+authorised the drawing of this instrument. You will discover, on reading
+it carefully and thoughtfully, that he does not give you the right to
+divert any of this money to your own private uses, but clearly says that
+it is to be employed, under your sole direction and as you see fit, for
+the carrying out of your ideas along certain lines. He has left a letter
+for you, Dr. Thorpe, which I have been privileged to read. You will find
+it in this envelope. For the benefit of future beneficiaries under this
+instrument, I may say that he expresses the hope and desire that you will
+not permit the movement to languish after your death. In fact, he
+expressly instructs you to establish during your life time a systematic
+scheme of education by reason of which the world eventually may become
+converted to the ideas which you promulgate and defend. He realised that
+this cannot he brought about in one generation, nor in two, three or four.
+Indeed, he ventures the opinion that two centuries may pass before this
+sound and sensible theory of yours,--the words are his, not mine,--becomes a
+reality. Two centuries, mind you. So, you will see, he does not expect you
+to perform a miracle, Braden. You are to start the ball rolling, so to
+speak, in a definite, well-supported groove, from which there can be no
+deviation. By this will, you are to have free and unhampered use of a vast
+sum of money. He does not bind you in any particular. So much for the
+outward expression of the will. Inversely, however, as you will find by
+reading this letter, you are not so completely free to exercise your own
+discretion. You will find that while he gives to you the undisputed right
+to bequeath this fortune as you may see fit at the expiration of your term
+as trustee--in short, at your death,--he suggests that,--being an honourable
+and conscientious man to his certain knowledge,--you will create a so-
+called foundation for the perpetuation of your ideas--and his, I may add.
+This foundation is to grow out of and to be the real development of the
+trust over which you now have absolute control. But all this, my friend,
+we may discuss later on. The real significance of Mr. Thorpe's will is to
+be found in the faith he reposes in you. He puts you on your honour. He
+entrusts this no inconsiderable fortune to your care. It rests entirely
+with you as to the manner in which it shall be used. If you elect to
+squander it, there is no one to say nay to you. It is expressly stated
+here that the trust comprehends the spread of the doctrines you advocate,
+but it does not pretend to guide or direct you in the handling of the
+funds. Mr. Thorpe trusts you to be governed by the dictates of your own
+honour. I have no hesitancy in saying that I protested against this
+extraordinary way of creating a trust, declaring to him that I thought he
+was doing wrong in placing you in such a position,--that is to say, it was
+wrong of him to put temptation in your way. He was confident, however. In
+fact, he was entirely satisfied with the arrangement. I will admit that at
+the time I had a queer impression that he was chuckling to himself, but of
+course I was wrong. It was merely the quick and difficult breathing of one
+in dire pain. The situation is quite plain, ladies and gentlemen. The will
+is sound. Mr. Dodge has observed,--somewhat hastily I submit,--that he
+believes it will not have to be smashed. He says that the money has been
+left to Dr. Thorpe, and that the trust is a rigmarole, or something of the
+sort. Mr. Dodge is right, after a fashion. If Dr. Thorpe chooses to
+violate his grandfather's staunch belief in his integrity, if he elects to
+disregard the suggestions set down in this letter--which, you must
+understand, is in no sense a legal supplement to the will,--he may justify
+Mr. Dodge's contention that the fortune is his to do with as he pleases."
+He turned to Anne. "I beg to inform you, Mrs. Thorpe, that your duties as
+executrix will not prove onerous. Your late husband left his affairs in
+such shape that there will be absolutely no difficulty in settling the
+estate. It could be done in half an hour, if necessary. Everything is
+ship-shape, as the saying is. I shall be glad to place myself at the
+command of yourself and your attorneys. Have no hesitancy in calling upon
+me."
+
+He waited. No one spoke. Braden was looking at him now. He had recovered
+from his momentary collapse and was now listening intently to the old
+lawyer's words. There was a hard, uncompromising light in his eyes,--a
+sullen prophecy of trouble ahead. After a moment, Judge Hollenback
+construed their silence as an invitation to go on. He liked to talk.
+
+"Our good friend Dodge says that no one else has a thing to say about the
+manner in which the trustee of this vast fund shall disperse his dollars."
+(Here he paused, for it sounded rather good to him.) "Ahem! Now does Mr.
+Dodge really believe what he says? Just a moment, please. I am merely
+formulating--er--I beg pardon, Mrs. Thorpe. You were saying--?"
+
+"I prefer not to act as executrix of the will, Judge Hollenback," said
+Anne dully. "How am I to go about being released from--"
+
+"My dear Mrs. Thorpe, you must believe me when I say that your
+duties,--er--the requirements,--are practically _nil_. Pray do not labour
+under the impression that--"
+
+"It isn't that," said Anne. "I just don't want to serve, that's all. I
+shall refuse."
+
+"My daughter will think the matter over for a few days, Judge Hollenback,"
+said Mrs. Tresslyn suavely. "She _does_ feel, I've no doubt, that it would
+be a tax on her strength and nerves. In a few days, I'm sure, she will
+feel differently." She thought she had sensed Anne's reason for
+hesitating. Mrs. Tresslyn had been speechless with dismay--or perhaps it
+was indignation--up to this moment. She had had a hard fight to control her
+emotions.
+
+"We need not discuss it now, at any rate," said Anne. She found it
+extremely difficult to keep from looking at Braden as she spoke. Something
+told her that he was looking hard at her. She kept her face averted.
+
+"Quite right, quite right," said Judge Hollenback. "I hope you will
+forgive me, Braden, for mentioning your--er--theories,--the theories which
+inspired the somewhat disturbing clause in your grandfather's will. I feel
+that it is my duty to explain my position in the matter. I was opposed to
+the creation of this fund. I tried to make your grandfather see the utter
+fallacy of his--shall we call it whim? Now, I will not put myself in the
+attitude of denying the true humanity of your theory. I daresay it has
+been discussed by physicians for ages. It was my aim to convince your
+grandfather that all the money in the world cannot bring about the result
+you desire. I argued from the legal point of view. There are the insurance
+companies to consider. They will put obstacles in the way of--"
+
+"Pardon me, Judge Hollenback," interrupted Braden steadily. "I do not
+advocate an illegal act. We need not discuss my theories, however. The
+absurdity of the clause in my grandfather's will is as clear to me as it
+is to you. The conditions cannot be carried out. I shall refuse to accept
+this trusteeship."
+
+Judge Hollenback stared. "But, my dear friend, you must accept. What is to
+become of the--er--money if you refuse to act? You can't possibly refuse.
+There is no other provision for the disposition of the estate. He has put
+it squarely up to you. There is no other solution. You may be sure, sir,
+that I do not care what you do with the money, and I fancy no one else
+will undertake to define your--"
+
+"Just the same, sir, I cannot and will not accept," said Braden, finality
+in his tone. "I cannot tell you how shocked, how utterly overwhelmed I am
+by--"
+
+Simmy interrupted him. "I'd suggest, old fellow, that you take Mr.
+Thorpe's letter to your rooms and read it. Take time to think it all out
+for yourself. Don't go off half-cocked like this."
+
+"You at least owe it to yourself and to your grandfather--" began Judge
+Hollenback soothingly, but was cut short by Braden, who arose and turned
+to the door. There he stopped and faced them.
+
+"I'm sorry, Judge Hollenback, but I must ask you to consider the matter
+closed. I shall leave you and Mr. Dodge to find a satisfactory solution.
+In the first place, I am a practising physician and surgeon. I prefer to
+regulate my own life and my life's work. I need not explain to you just
+how deeply I am interested in the saving of human life. That comes first
+with me. My theories, as you call them, come second. I cannot undertake
+the promotion of these theories as a salaried advocate. This is the only
+stupid and impractical thing that my grandfather ever did, I believe. He
+must have known that the terms of the will could not be carried out. Mr.
+Dodge is right. It was his way of leaving the property to me after
+declaring that he would not do so, after adding the codicil annulling the
+bequest intended for me. He broke a solemn compact. Now he has made the
+situation absolutely impossible. I shall not act as trustee of this fund,
+and I shall not use a penny of the fortune 'as I see fit,' Judge
+Hollenback. There must be some other channel into which all this money can
+be diverted without--"
+
+"There is no provision, sir, as I said before," said Judge Hollenback
+testily. "It can only be released by an act of yours. That is clear, quite
+clear."
+
+"Then, I shall find a way," said Braden resolutely. "I shall go into court
+and ask to have the will set aside as--"
+
+"That's it, sir, that's it," came an eager voice from an unexpected
+quarter. Wade was leaning forward in his chair, visibly excited by the
+prospect of relief. "I can testify, sir, that Mr. Thorpe acted
+strangely,--yes, very queerly,--during the past few months. I should say
+that he was of unsound mind." Then, as every eye was upon him, he subsided
+as suddenly as he had begun.
+
+"Shut up!" whispered Murray, murderously, bending over, the better to
+penetrate his ear. "You damn fool!"
+
+Judge Hollenback indulged in a frosty smile. "Mr. Wade is evidently
+bewildered." Then, turning to Braden, he said: "Mr. Dodge's advice is
+excellent. Think the matter over for a few days and then come to see me."
+
+"I am placed in a most unhappy position," said Braden, with dignity. "Mrs.
+Thorpe appreciates my feelings, I am sure. She was led to believe, as I
+was, that my grandfather had left me out of his will. Such a thing as this
+subterfuge never crossed my mind, nor hers. I wish to assure her, in the
+presence of all of you, that I was as completely ignorant of all this--"
+
+"I know it, Braden," interrupted Anne. "I know that you had nothing to do
+with it. And for that reason I feel that you should accept the trust that
+is--"
+
+"Anne!" cried out Braden, incredulously. "You cannot mean it. You--"
+
+"I do mean it," she said firmly. "It is your greatest justification. You
+should carry out his wishes. He does not leave you the money outright. You
+may do as you please with it, to be sure, but why should you agree with
+Simmy that it may be converted solely to your own private uses? Why should
+you feel that he intended you to have it all for your own? Does he not set
+forth explicitly just what uses it is to be put to by you during your
+lifetime? He puts you on your honour. He knew what he was about when he
+overruled Judge Hollenback's objection. He knew that this trust would be
+safe in your hands. Yes, Braden, he knew that you would not spend a penny
+of it on yourself."
+
+He was staring at her blankly. Mrs. Tresslyn was speaking now, but it is
+doubtful if he heard a word that she uttered. He was intent only upon the
+study of Anne's warm, excited face.
+
+"Mr. Thorpe assured me a little over a year ago," began Anne's mother, a
+hard light in her eyes, "that it was his determination to leave his
+grandson out of his will altogether. It was his desire,--or at least, so he
+said,--to remove from Braden's path every obstacle that might interfere
+with his becoming a great man and a credit to his name. By that, of
+course, he meant money unearned. He told me that most of his fortune was
+to go to Charitable and Scientific Institutions. I had his solemn word of
+honour that his grandson was to be in no sense a beneficiary under his
+will. He--"
+
+"Please, mother!" broke in Anne, a look of real shame in her eyes.
+
+"And so how are we to reconcile this present foolishness with his very
+laudable display of commonsense of a year ago?" went on Mrs. Tresslyn, the
+red spot darkening in her cheek. "He played fast and loose with all of us.
+I agree with Braden Thorpe. There was treachery in--"
+
+"Ahem!" coughed Judge Hollenback so loudly and so pointedly that the angry
+sentence was not completed.
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn was furious. She had been cheated, and Anne had been
+cheated. The old wretch had played a trick on all of them! He had bought
+Anne for two millions, and now _nothing_,--absolutely _nothing_ was to go
+to Charity! Braden was seven times a millionaire instead of a poor but
+ambitious seeker after fame!
+
+In the few minutes that followed Judge Hollenback's cough, she had time to
+restore her equanimity to its habitual elevation. It had, for once,
+stooped perilously near to catastrophe.
+
+Meanwhile, her son George had arrived at a conclusion. He arose from his
+chair with a wry face and a half uttered groan, and crossed over to
+Braden's side. Strange, fierce pains were shooting through all the joints
+and muscles of his body.
+
+"See here, Brady, I'd like to ask a question, if you don't mind."
+
+"I don't mind. What is it?"
+
+"Would you have operated on Mr. Thorpe if you'd known what was in this
+will?"
+
+Braden hesitated, but only for a second. "Yes. My grandfather asked me to
+operate. There was nothing else for me to do under the circumstances."
+
+"That's just what I thought. Well, all I've got to say is that so long as
+you respected his wishes while he was alive it seems pretty rotten in you
+to take the stand you're taking now."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"He virtually asked you to make an end of him. You both knew there was no
+chance. You operated and he died. I'm speaking plainly, you see. No one
+blames you. You did your best. But it seems to me that if you could do
+what he asked you to do at that time, you ought to do what he asks of you
+now. As long as you were willing to respect his last wish alive, you ought
+not to stir up a rumpus over his first wish dead."
+
+The two men were looking hard into each other's eyes. George's voice shook
+a little, but not from fear or nervousness. He was shivering with the
+chill that precedes fever.
+
+Anne drew a step or two nearer. She laid an appealing hand on George's
+arm.
+
+"I think I understand you, George," said Thorpe slowly. "You are telling
+me that you believe I took my grandfather's life by design. You--"
+
+"No," said George quietly, "I'm not saying that, Brady. I'm saying that
+you owe as much to him now as you did when he was alive. If you had not
+consented to operate, this will would never have been drawn. If you had
+refused, the first will would have been read to-day. I guess you are
+entirely responsible for the making of this new will, and that's why I say
+you ought to be man enough to stand by your work."
+
+Thorpe turned away. His face was very white and his hands were clenched.
+
+Anne shook her brother's arm. "Why,--oh, why did you say that to him,
+George? Why--"
+
+"Because it ought to have been said to him," said George coolly; "that's
+why. He made old Mr. Thorpe see things from his point of view, and it's up
+to him to shoulder the responsibility."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn spoke to Murray. "Is there any reason why we shouldn't have
+tea, Murray? Serve it, please." She turned to Judge Hollenback. "I don't
+see any sense in trying to settle all the little details to-day, do you,
+Judge Hollenback? We've done all that it is possible to do to-day. The
+will has been read. That is all we came for, I fancy. I confess that I am
+astonished by several of the provisions, but the more I think of them the
+less unreasonable they seem to be. We have nothing to quarrel about. Every
+one appears to be satisfied except Dr. Thorpe, so let us have tea--and
+peace. Sit down, Braden. You can't decide the question to-day. It has too
+many angles."
+
+Braden lifted his head. "Thank you, Mrs. Tresslyn; I shall not wait. At
+what hour may I see you to-morrow, Judge Hollenback?"
+
+"Name your own hour, Braden."
+
+"Three o'clock," said Braden succinctly. He turned to George. "No hard
+feelings, George, on my part."
+
+"Nor on mine," said George, extending his hand. "It's just my way of
+looking at things lately. No offence was meant, Brady. I'm too fond of you
+for that."
+
+"You've given me something to think about," said Thorpe. He bowed stiffly
+to the ladies and Judge Hollenback. George stepped out into the hall with
+him.
+
+"I intend to stick pretty close to Anne, Brady," he said with marked
+deliberation. "She needs me just now."
+
+Thorpe started. "I don't get your meaning, George."
+
+"There will be talk, old man,--talk about you and Anne. Do you get it now?"
+
+"Good heaven! I--yes, I suppose there will be all sorts of conjectures,"
+groaned Braden bitterly. "People remember too well, George. You may rest
+easy, however. I shall not give them any cause to talk. As for coming to
+this house again, I can tell you frankly that as I now feel I could almost
+make a vow never to enter its doors again as long as I live."
+
+"Well, I just thought I'd let you know how I stand in the matter," said
+George. "I'm going to try to look out for Anne, if she'll let me. Good-
+bye, Brady. I hope you'll count me as one of your friends, if you think
+I'm worth while. I'm--I'm going to make a fresh start, you know." He
+grinned, and his teeth chattered.
+
+"You'd better go to bed," said Braden, looking at him closely. "Tell Anne
+that I said so, and--you'd better let a doctor look you over, too."
+
+"I haven't much use for doctors," said George, shaking his head. "I wanted
+to kill you last winter when you cut poor little Lutie--Oh, but of course
+you understand. I was kind of dotty then, I guess. So long."
+
+Simmy came to the library door and called out: "I'll be with you in a
+second, Brady. I'm going your way, and I don't care which way you're
+going. My car's outside." Re-entering the room, Mr. Dodge walked up to
+Anne and actually shook her as a parent would shake a child. "Don't be
+silly about it, Anne. You've got to accept the house. He left it to you
+without--"
+
+"I cannot live up to the conditions. The will says that I must continue to
+make this place my home, that I must reside here for--Oh! I cannot do it,
+that's all, Simmy. I would go mad, living here. There is no use discussing
+the matter. I will not take the house."
+
+"'Pon my soul," sighed Judge Hollenback, "the poor man seems to have made
+a mess of everything. He can't even give his property away. No one will
+take it. Braden refuses, Mrs. Thorpe refuses, Wade is dissatisfied--Ah,
+yes, Murray seems to be pleased. One lump, Mrs. Tresslyn, and a little
+cream. Now as for Wade's attitude--by the way, where is the man?"
+
+Wade was at the lower end of the hall, speaking earnestly in a tremulous
+undertone to Braden Thorpe.
+
+"Yes, sir, Mr. Braden, there's only one thing to do. We've got to have it
+set aside, declared void. You may count on me, sir. I'll swear to his
+actions. Crazy as a loon, sir,--? crazy as a loon."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+Two days later George Tresslyn staggered weakly into Simmy Dodge's
+apartment. He was not alone. A stalwart porter from an adjacent apartment
+building was supporting him when Dodge's man opened the door.
+
+"This Mr. Dodge?" demanded the porter.
+
+"Mr. Dodge's man. Mr. Dodge isn't at 'ome," said Baffly quickly.
+
+"All right," said the porter, pushing past the man and leading George
+toward a couch he had observed from the open door. "This ain't no jag,
+Johnny. He's sick. Out of his head. Batty. Say, don't you know him? Am I
+in wrong? He said he wanted to come here to--"
+
+George had tossed himself, sprawling, upon the long couch. His eyes were
+closed and his breathing was stertorous.
+
+"Of course I know him. What--what is the matter with him? My Gawd, man,
+don't tell me he is dying. What do you mean, bringing 'im 'ere? There will
+be a coroner's hinquest and--"
+
+"You better get a doctor first. Waste no time. Get the coroner afterward
+if you have to. You tell Mr. Dodge that he came into our place half an
+hour ago and said he wanted to go up to his friend's apartment. He was
+clean gone then. He wanted to lick the head porter for saying Mr. Dodge
+didn't live in the buildin'. We saw in a minute that he hadn't been
+drinkin'. Just as we was about to call an ambulance, a gentleman in our
+building came along and reckonised him as young Mr. Tresslyn. Friend of
+Mr. Dodge's. That was enough for us. So I brings him around. Now it's up
+to you guys to look after him. Off his nut. My name's Jenks. Tell it to
+Mr. Dodge, will you? And git a doctor quick. Put your hand here on his
+head. Aw, he won't bite you! Put it _here_. Ever feel anything as hot as
+that?"
+
+Baffly arose to the occasion. "Mr. Dodge 'as been hexpecting Mr. Tresslyn.
+He will also be hexpecting you, Mr. Jenks, at six o'clock this evening."
+
+"All right," said Mr. Jenks.
+
+Baffly put George Tresslyn to bed and then called up Mr. Dodge's favourite
+club. He never called up the office except as a last resort. If Mr. Dodge
+wasn't to be found at any one of his nine clubs, or at certain
+restaurants, it was then time for calling up the office. Mr. Dodge was not
+in the club, but he had left word that if any one called him up he could
+be found at his office.
+
+"Put him to bed and send for Dr. Thorpe," was Simmy's order a few minutes
+later.
+
+"I've put 'im to bed, sir."
+
+"Out of his head, you say?"
+
+"I said, 'Put 'im to bed, sir,'" shouted Baffly.
+
+"I'll be home in half-an-hour, Baffly."
+
+Simmy called up Anne Thorpe at once and reported that George had been
+found and was now in his rooms. He would call up later on. She was not to
+worry,--and good-bye!
+
+It appears that George Tresslyn had been missing from the house near
+Washington Square since seven o'clock on the previous evening. At that
+hour he left his bed, to which Dr. Bates had ordered him, and made off in
+the cold, sleety night, delirious with the fierce fever that was consuming
+him. As soon as his plight was discovered, Anne called up Simmy Dodge and
+begged him to go out in search of her sick, and now irresponsible brother.
+In his delirium, George repeatedly had muttered threats against Braden
+Thorpe for the cruel and inhuman "slashing of the most beautiful, the most
+perfect body in all the world," "marking for life the sweetest girl that
+God ever let live"; and that he would have to account to him for "the
+dirty work he had done."
+
+Acting on this hint, Simmy at once looked up Braden Thorpe and put him on
+his guard. Thorpe laughed at his fears, and promptly joined in the search
+for the sick man. They thought of Lutie, of course, and hurried to her
+small apartment. She was not at home. Her maidservant said that she did
+not know where she could be found. Mrs. Tresslyn had gone out alone at
+half-past seven, to dine with friends, but had left no instructions,--a
+most unusual omission, according to the young woman.
+
+It was a raw, gusty night. A fine, penetrating sleet cut the face, and the
+sharp wind drove straight to the marrow of the most warmly clad. Tresslyn
+was wandering about the streets, witless yet dominated by a great purpose,
+racked with pain and blind with fever, insufficiently protected against
+the gale that met his big body as he trudged doggedly into it in quest
+of--what? He had left Anne's home without overcoat, gloves or muffler. His
+fever-struck brain was filled with a resolve that deprived him of all
+regard for personal comfort or safety. He was out in the storm, looking
+for some one, and whether love or hate was in his heart, no man could
+tell.
+
+All night long Dodge and Thorpe looked for him, aided in their search by
+three or four private detectives who were put on the case at midnight. At
+one o'clock the two friends reappeared at Lutie's apartment, summoned
+there by the detective who had been left on guard with instructions to
+notify them when she returned.
+
+It was from the miserable, conscience-stricken Lutie that they had an
+account of George's adventures earlier in the night. White-faced, scared
+and despairing, she poured out her unhappy tale of triumph over love and
+pity. The thing that she had longed for, though secretly dreaded, had
+finally come to pass. She had seen her former husband in the gutter,
+degraded, besotted, thoroughly reduced to the level from which nothing
+save her own loyal, loving efforts could lift him. She had dreamed of a
+complete conquest of caste, and the remaking of a man. She had dreamed of
+the day when she could pick up from the discarded of humanity this
+splendid, misused bit of rubbish and in triumph claim it as her own, to
+revive, to rebuild, to make over through the sure and simple processes of
+love! This had been Lutie Tresslyn's notion of revenge!
+
+She saw George at eight o'clock that night. As she stood in the shelter of
+the small canvas awning protecting the entrance to the building in which
+she lived, waiting for the taxi to pull up, her eyes searched the swirling
+shadows up and down the street. She never failed to look for the distant
+and usually indistinct figure of _her man_. It had become a habit with
+her. The chauffeur had got down to crank his machine, and there was
+promise of a no inconsiderable delay in getting the cold engine started.
+She was on the point of returning to the shelter of the hallway, when she
+caught sight of a tall, shambling figure crossing the street obliquely,
+and at once recognised George Tresslyn. He was staggering. The light from
+the entrance revealed his white, convulsed face. Her heart sank. She had
+never seen him so drunk, so disgusting as this! The taxi-cab was twenty or
+thirty feet away. She would have to cross a wet, exposed space in order to
+reach it before George could come up with her. She realised with a quiver
+of alarm that it was the first time in all these months that he had
+ventured to approach her. It was clear that he now meant to accost her,--he
+might even contemplate violence! She wanted to run, but her feet refused
+to obey the impulse. Fascinated she watched the unsteady figure lurching
+toward her, and the white face growing more and more distinct and
+forbidding as it came out of the darkness. Suddenly she was released from
+the spell. Like a flash she darted toward the taxi-cab. From behind came a
+hoarse cry.
+
+"Lutie! For God's sake--"
+
+"Quick!" she cried out to the driver. "Open the door! Be quick!"
+
+The engine was throbbing. She looked back. George was supporting himself
+by clinging to one of the awning rods. His legs seemed to be crumbling
+beneath his weight. Her heart smote her. He had no overcoat. It was a bare
+hand that gripped the iron rod and a bare hand that was held out toward
+her. Thank heaven, he had stopped there! He was not coming on.
+
+"Lutie! Oh, Lutie!" came almost in a wail from his lips. Then he began to
+cry out something incoherent, maudlin, unintelligible.
+
+"Never mind him," said the driver reassuringly. "Just a souse. Wants to
+make a touch, madam. Streets are full of 'em these cold nights. He won't
+bone you while I'm here. Where to?" He was holding the door open.
+
+Lutie hesitated. Long afterwards she recalled the strange impulse that
+came so near to sending her back to the side of the man who cried out to
+her from the depths of a bottomless pit. Something whispered from her
+heart that _now was her time_,--_now_! And then came the loud cry from her
+brain, drowning the timid voice of the merciful: "Wait! Wait! Not now! To-
+morrow!"
+
+And while she stood there, uncertain, held inactive by the two warring
+emotions, George turned and staggered away, reeling, and crying out in a
+queer, raucous voice.
+
+"They'll get him," said the driver.
+
+"Who will get him?" cried Lutie, shrilly.
+
+"The police. He--"
+
+"No! No! It must not be _that_. That's not what I want,--do you hear,
+driver? Not that. He must not be locked up--Oh!" George had collapsed. His
+knees went from under him and he was half-prostrate on the curb. "Oh! He
+has fallen! He has hurt himself! Go and see, driver. Go at once." She
+forgot the sleet and the wind, and stood there wide-eyed and terrified
+while the man shuffled forward to investigate. She hated him for stirring
+the fallen man with his foot, and she hated him when he shook him
+violently with his hands.
+
+"I better call a cop," said the man. "He's pretty full. He'll freeze if--I
+know how it is, ma'am. I used to hit it up a bit myself. I--"
+
+"Listen!" cried Lutie, regaining the shelter of the awning, where she
+stopped in great perturbation. "Listen; you must put him in your cab and
+take him somewhere. I will pay you. Here! Here is five dollars. Don't mind
+me. I will get another taxi. Be quick! There is a policeman coming. I see
+him,--there by--"
+
+"Gee! I don't know where to take him. I--"
+
+"You can't leave him lying there in the gutter, man," she cried fiercely.
+"The gutter! The gutter! My God, what a thing to happen to--"
+
+"Here! Get up, you!" shouted the driver, shaking George's shoulder. "Come
+along, old feller. I'll look out for you. Gee! He weighs a ton."
+
+Tresslyn was mumbling, half audibly, and made little or no effort to help
+his unwilling benefactor, who literally dragged him to his feet.
+
+"Is--is he hurt?" cried Lutie, from the doorway.
+
+"No. Plain souse."
+
+"Where will you take him?"
+
+The man reflected. "It wouldn't be right to take him to his home. Maybe
+he's got a wife. These fellers beat 'em up when they get like this."
+
+"A wife? Beat them up--oh, you don't know what you are saying. He--"
+
+At this juncture George straightened out his powerful figure, shook off
+the Samaritan and with a loud, inarticulate cry rushed off down the
+street. The driver looked after the retreating figure in utter amazement.
+
+"By Gosh! Why--why; he ain't any more drunk than I am," he gasped. "Well,
+can you beat that? All bunk! It beats thunder what these panhandlers will
+do to pick up a dime or two. He was--say, he saw the cop, that's what it
+was. Lord, look at him go!"
+
+Tresslyn was racing wildly toward the corner. Lutie, aghast at this
+disgusting exhibition of trickery, watched the flying figure of her
+husband. She never knew that she was clinging to the arm of the driver.
+She only knew that her heart seemed to have turned to lead. As he turned
+the corner and disappeared from view, she found her voice and it seemed
+that it was not her own. He had swerved widely and almost lost his feet as
+he made the turn. He _was_ drunk! Her heart leaped with joy. He _was_
+drunk. He had not tried to trick her.
+
+"Go after him!" she cried out, shaking the man in her agitation. "Find
+him! Don't let him get away. I--"
+
+But the policeman was at her elbow.
+
+"What's the matter here?" he demanded.
+
+"Panhandler," said the driver succinctly.
+
+"Just a poor wretch who--who wanted enough for--for more drink, I suppose,"
+said Lutie, warily. Her heart was beating violently. She was immensely
+relieved by the policeman's amiable grunt. It signified that the matter
+was closed so far as he was concerned. He politely assisted her into the
+taxi-cab and repeated her tremulous directions to the driver. As the
+machine chortled off through the deserted street, she peered through the
+little window at the back. Her apprehensions faded. The officer was
+standing where she had left him.
+
+Then came Thorpe and Simmy Dodge in the dead hour of night and she learned
+that she had turned away from him when he was desperately ill. Sick and
+tortured, he had come to her and she had denied him. She looked so
+crushed, so pathetic that the two men undertook to convince her that she
+had nothing to fear,--they would protect her from George!
+
+She smiled wanly, shook her head, and confessed that she did not want to
+be protected against him. She wanted to surrender. She wanted _him_ to
+protect her. Suddenly she was transformed. She sprang to her feet and
+faced them, and she was resolute. Her voice rang with determination, her
+lips no longer drooped and trembled, and the appeal was gone from her
+eyes.
+
+"He must be found, Simmy," she said imperatively. "Find him and bring him
+here to me. This is his home. I want him here."
+
+The two men went out again, half an hour later, to scour the town for
+George Tresslyn. They were forced to use every argument at their command
+to convince her that it would be highly improper, in more ways than one,
+to bring the sick man to her apartment. She submitted in the end, but they
+were bound by a promise to take him to a hospital and not to the house of
+either his mother or his sister.
+
+"He belongs to me," she said simply. "You must do what I tell you to do.
+They do not want him. I do. When you have found him, call me up, Simmy,
+and I will come. I shall not go to bed. Thank you,--both of you,--for--for--"
+She turned away as her voice broke. After a moment she faced them again.
+"And you will take charge of him, Dr. Thorpe?" she said. "I shall hold you
+to your promise. There is no one that I trust so much as I do you."
+
+Thorpe was with the sick man when Simmy arrived at his apartment. George
+was rolling and tossing and moaning in his delirium, and the doctor's face
+was grave.
+
+"Pneumonia," he said. "Bad, too,--devilish bad. He cannot be moved, Simmy."
+
+Simmy did not blink an eye. "Then right here he stays," he said heartily.
+"Baffly, we shall have two nurses here for a while,--and we may also have
+to put up a young lady relative of Mr. Tresslyn's. Get the rooms ready. By
+Jove, Brady, he--he looks frightfully ill, doesn't he?" His voice dropped
+to a whisper. "Is he likely to--to--you know!"
+
+"I think you'd better send for Dr. Bates," said Braden gravely. "I believe
+his mother and sister will be better satisfied if you have him in at once,
+Simmy."
+
+"But Lutie expressly--"
+
+"I shall do all that I can to redeem my promise to that poor little girl,
+but we must consider Anne and Mrs. Tresslyn. They may not have the same
+confidence in me that Lutie has. I shall insist on having Dr. Bates called
+in."
+
+"All right, if you insist. But--but you'll stick around, won't you, Brady?"
+
+Thorpe nodded his head. He was watching the sick man's face very closely.
+
+Half an hour later, Lutie Tresslyn and Anne Thorpe entered the elevator on
+the first floor of the building and went up together to the apartment of
+Simeon Dodge. Anne had lifted her veil,--a feature in her smart tribute to
+convention,--and her lovely features were revealed to the cast-off sister-
+in-law. For an instant they stared hard at each other. Then Anne,
+recovering from her surprise, bowed gravely and held out her hand.
+
+"May we not forget for a little while?" she said.
+
+Lutie shook her head. "I can't take your hand--not yet, Mrs. Thorpe. It was
+against me once, and I am afraid it will be against me again." She
+detected the faintest trace of a smile at the corners of Anne's mouth. A
+fine line appeared between her eyes. This fine lady could still afford to
+laugh at her! "I am going up to take care of my husband, Mrs. Thorpe," she
+added, a note of defiance in her voice. She was surprised to see the
+smile,--a gentle one it was,--deepen in Anne's eyes.
+
+"That is why I suggested that we try to forget," she said.
+
+Lutie started. "You--you do not intend to object to my--" she began, and
+stopped short, her eyes searching Anne's for the answer to the uncompleted
+question.
+
+"I am not your enemy," said Anne quietly. She hesitated and then lowered
+the hand that was extended to push the button beside Simmy's door. "Before
+we go in, I think we would better understand each other, Lutie." She had
+never called the girl by her Christian name before. "I have nothing to
+apologise for. When you And George were married I did not care a pin, one
+way or the other. You meant nothing to me, and I am afraid that George
+meant but little more. I resented the fact that my mother had to give you
+a large sum of money. It was money that I could have used very nicely
+myself. Now that I look back upon it, I am frank to confess that therein
+lies the real secret of my animosity toward you. It didn't in the least
+matter to me whether George married you, or my mother's chambermaid, or
+the finest lady in the land. You will be surprised to learn that I looked
+upon myself as the one who was being very badly treated at the time. To
+put it rather plainly, I thought you were getting from my mother a great
+deal more than you were worth. Forgive me for speaking so frankly, but it
+is best that you should understand how I felt in those days so that you
+may credit me with sincerity now. I shall never admit that you deserved
+the thirty thousand dollars you took from us, but I now say that you were
+entitled to keep the man you loved and married. I don't care how unworthy
+you may have seemed to us, you should not have been compelled to take
+money for something you could not sell--the enduring love of that sick boy
+in there. My mother couldn't buy it, and you couldn't sell it. You have it
+still and always will have it, Lutie. I am glad that you have come to take
+care of him. You spoke of him as 'my husband' a moment ago. You were
+right. He _is_ your husband. I, for one, shall not oppose you in anything
+you may see fit to do. We do not appear to have been capable of preserving
+what you gave back to us--for better or for worse, if you please,--so I
+fancy we'd better turn the job over to you. I hope it isn't too late. I
+love my brother now. I suppose I have always loved him but I overlooked
+the fact in concentrating my affection on some one else,--and that some one
+was myself. You see I do not spare myself, Lutie, but you are not to
+assume that I am ashamed of the Anne Tresslyn who was. I petted and
+coddled her for years and I alone made her what she was, so I shall not
+turn against her now. There is a great deal of the old Anne in me still
+and I coddle her as much as ever. But I've found out something new about
+her that I never suspected before, and it is this new quality that speaks
+to you now. I ask you to try to forget, Lutie."
+
+Throughout this long speech Lutie's eyes never left those of the tall
+young woman in black.
+
+"Why do you call me Lutie?" she asked.
+
+"Because it is my brother's name for you," said Anne.
+
+Lutie lowered her eyes for an instant. A sharp struggle was taking place
+within her. She had failed to see in Anne's eyes the expression that would
+have made compromise impossible: the look of condescension. Instead, there
+was an anxious look there that could not be mistaken. She was in earnest.
+She could be trusted. The old barrier was coming down. But even as her
+lips parted to utter the words that Anne wanted to hear, suspicion
+intervened and Lutie's sore, tried heart cried out:
+
+"You have come here to _claim_ him! You expect me to stand aside and let
+you take him--"
+
+"No, no! He is yours. I _did_ come to help him, to nurse him, to be a real
+sister to him, but--that was before I knew that you would come."
+
+"I am sorry I spoke as I did," said Lutie, with a little catch in her
+voice. "I--I hope that we may become friends, Mrs. Thorpe. If that should
+come to pass, I--am sure that I could forget."
+
+"And you will allow me to help--all that I can?"
+
+"Yes." Then quickly, jealously: "But he _belongs_ to me. You must
+understand that, Mrs. Thorpe."
+
+Anne drew closer and whispered in sudden admiration. "You are really a
+wonderful person, Lutie Carnahan. How _can_ you be so fine after all that
+you have endured?"
+
+"I suppose it is because I too happen to love myself," said Lutie drily,
+and turned to press the button. "We are all alike." Anne laid a hand upon
+her arm.
+
+"Wait. You will meet my mother here. She has been notified. She has not
+forgiven you." There was a note of uneasiness in her voice.
+
+Lutie looked at her in surprise. "And what has that to do with it?" she
+demanded.
+
+Then they entered the apartment together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+George Tresslyn pulled through.
+
+He was a very sick man, and he wanted to die. That is to say, he wanted to
+die up to a certain point and then he very much wanted to live. Coming out
+of his delirium one day he made a most incredible discovery, and at that
+very instant entered upon a dream that was never to end. He saw Lutie
+sitting at his bedside and he knew that it must be a dream. As she did not
+fade away then, nor in all the mysterious days that followed, he came to
+the conclusion that if he ever did wake up it would be the most horrible
+thing that could happen to him. It was a most grateful and satisfying
+dream. It included a wonderful period of convalescence, a delightful and
+ever-increasing appetite, a painless return voyage over a road that had
+been full of suffering on the way out, a fantastic experience in the
+matter of legs that wouldn't work and wobbled fearfully, a constant but
+properly subdued desire to sing and whistle--oh, it was a glorious dream
+that George was having!
+
+For six weeks he was the uninvited guest of Simmy Dodge. Three of those
+weeks were terrifying to poor Simmy, and three abounded with the greatest
+joy he had ever known, for when George was safely round the corner and on
+the road to recovery, the hospitality of Simmy Dodge expanded to hitherto
+untried dimensions. Relieved of the weight that had pressed them down to
+an inconceivable depth, Simmy's spirits popped upward with an
+effervescence so violent that there was absolutely no containing them.
+They flowed all over the place. All day long and most of the night they
+were active. He hated to go to bed for fear of missing an opportunity to
+do something to make everybody happy and comfortable, and he was up so
+early in the morning that if he hadn't been in his own house some one
+would have sent him back to bed with a reprimand.
+
+He revelled in the establishment of a large though necessarily
+disconnected family circle. The nurses, the doctors, the extra servants,
+Anne's maid, Anne herself, the indomitable Lutie, and, on occasions, the
+impressive Mrs. Tresslyn,--all of these went to make up Simmy's family.
+
+The nurses were politely domineering: they told him what he could do and
+what he could not do, and he obeyed them with a cheerfulness that must
+have shamed them. The doctors put all manner of restrictions upon him; the
+servants neglected to whisper when discussing their grievances among
+themselves; his French poodle was banished because canine hospitality was
+not one of the niceties, and furthermore it was most annoying to recent
+acquaintances engaged in balancing well-filled cups of broth in transit;
+his own luxurious bath-room was seized, his bed-chambers invested, his
+cosy living-room turned into a rest room which every one who happened to
+be disengaged by day or night felt free to inhabit. He had no privacy
+except that which was to be found in the little back bedroom into which he
+was summarily shunted when the occupation began, and he wasn't sure of
+being entirely at home there. At any time he expected a command to
+evacuate in favour of an extra nurse or a doctor's assistant. But through
+all of it, he shone like a gem of purest ray.
+
+At the outset he realised that his apartment, commodious when reckoned as
+a bachelor's abode, was entirely inadequate when it came to accommodating
+a company of persons who were not and never could be bachelors. Lutie
+refused to leave George; and Anne, after a day or two, came to keep her
+company. It was then that Simmy began to reveal signs of rare strategical
+ability. He invaded the small apartment of his neighbour beyond the
+elevator and struck a bargain with him. The neighbour and his wife rented
+the apartment to him furnished for an indefinite period and went to Europe
+on the bonus that Simmy paid. Here Anne and her maid were housed, and here
+also Mrs. Tresslyn spent a few nights out of each week.
+
+He studied the nurses' charts with an avid interest. He knew all there was
+to know about temperature, respiration and nourishment; and developing a
+sudden sort of lordly understanding therefrom, he harangued the engineer
+about the steam heat, he cautioned the superintendent about noises, and he
+held many futile arguments with God about the weather. Something told him
+a dozen times a day, however, that he was in the way, that he was "a
+regular Marceline," and that if Brady Thorpe had any sense at all he would
+order him out of the house!
+
+He began to resent the speed with which George's convalescence was marked.
+He was enjoying himself so immensely in his new environment that he hated
+to think of going back to the old and hitherto perfect order of existence.
+When Braden Thorpe and Dr. Bates declared one day that George would be
+able to go home in a week or ten days, he experienced a surprising and
+absolutely inexplicable sinking of the heart. He tried to persuade them
+that it would be a mistake to send the poor fellow out inside of a month
+or six weeks. That was the trouble with doctors, he said: they haven't any
+sense. Suppose, he argued, that George were to catch a cold--why, the damp,
+spring weather would raise the dickens--Anne's house was a drafty old barn
+of a place, improperly heated,--and any fool could see that if George _did_
+have a relapse it would go mighty hard with him. Subsequently he sounded
+the nurses, severally, on the advisability of abandoning the poor, weak
+young fellow before he was safely out of the woods, and the nurses, who
+were tired of the case, informed him that the way George was eating he
+soon would be as robust as a dock hand. An appeal to Mrs. Tresslyn brought
+a certain degree of hope. That lady declared, quite bitterly, that
+inasmuch as her son did not seem inclined to return to _her_ home he might
+do a great deal worse than to remain where he was, and it was some time
+before Simmy grasped the full significance of the remark.
+
+He remembered hearing Lutie say that she was going to take George home
+with her as soon as he was able to be moved!
+
+What was he to do with himself after all these people were gone? For the
+first time in his life he really knew what it meant to have a home, and
+now it was to be broken up. He saw more of his home in the five or six
+weeks that George was there than he had seen of it all told in years. He
+stayed at home instead of going to the club or the theatre or to stupid
+dinner parties. He hadn't the faintest idea that a place where a fellow
+did nothing but sleep and eat bacon and eggs could be looked upon as a
+"home." He had thought of it only as an apartment, or "diggings." Now he
+loved his home and everything that was in it. How he would miss the
+stealthy blue linen nurses, and the expressionless doctors, and the odour
+of broths and soups, and the scent of roses, and the swish of petticoats,
+and the elevating presence of pretty women, and the fragrance of them, and
+the sweet chatter of them--Oh my, oh me-oh-my! If George would only get
+well in a more leisurely fashion!
+
+Certain interesting events, each having considerable bearing upon the
+lives of the various persons presented in this narrative, are to be
+chronicled, but as briefly as possible so that we may get on to the
+results.
+
+Naturally one turns first to the patient himself. He was the magnet that
+drew the various opposing forces together and, in a way, united them in a
+common enterprise, and therefore is of first importance. For days his life
+hung in the balance. Most of the time he was completely out of his head.
+It has been remarked that he thought himself to be dreaming when he first
+beheld Lutie at his bedside, and it now becomes necessary to report an
+entirely different sensation when he came to realise that he was being
+attended by Dr. Thorpe. The instant he discovered Lutie he manifested an
+immense desire to live, and it was this desire that sustained a fearful
+shock when his fever-free eyes looked up into the face of his doctor.
+Terror filled his soul. Almost his first rational words were in the form
+of a half-whispered question: "For God's sake, can't I get well? Is--is it
+hopeless?"
+
+Braden was never to forget the anguish in the sick man's eyes, nor the
+sagging of his limp body as if all of his remaining strength had given way
+before the ghastly fear that assailed him. Thorpe understood. He knew what
+it was that flashed through George's brain in that first moment of
+intelligence. His heart sank. Was it always to be like this? Were people
+to live in dread of him? His voice was husky as he leaned over and laid
+his hand gently upon the damp brow of the invalid.
+
+"You are going to get well, George. You will be as sound as a rock in no
+time at all. Trust me, old fellow,--and don't worry."
+
+"But that's what they always say," whispered George, peering straight into
+the other's eyes. "Doctors always say that. What are you doing here,
+Brady? Why have you been called in to--"
+
+"Hush! You're all right. Don't get excited. I have been with you from the
+start. Ask Lutie--or Anne. They will tell you that you are all right."
+
+"I don't want to die," whined George. "I only want a fair chance. Give me
+a chance, Brady. I'll show you that I--"
+
+"My God!" fell in agonised tones from Thorpe's lips, and he turned away as
+one condemned.
+
+When Lutie and Anne came into the room soon afterward, they found George
+in a state of great distress. He clutched Lutie's hand in his strong
+fingers and drew her down close to him so that he could whisper furtively
+in her ear.
+
+"Don't let any one convince you that I haven't a chance to get well,
+Lutie. Don't let him talk you into anything like that. I won't give my
+consent, Lutie,--I swear to God I won't. He can't do it without my consent.
+I've just got to get well. I can do it if I get half a chance. I depend on
+you to stand out against any--"
+
+Lutie managed to quiet him. Thorpe had gone at once to her with the story
+and she was prepared. For a long time she talked to the frightened boy,
+and at last he sank back with a weak smile on his lips, confidence
+partially restored.
+
+Anne stood at the head of the bed, out of his range of vision. Her heart
+was cold within her. It ached for the other man who suffered and could not
+cry out. _This_ was but the beginning for him.
+
+In a day or two George's attitude toward Braden underwent a complete
+change, but all the warmth of his enthusiastic devotion could not drive
+out the chill that had entered Thorpe's heart on that never-to-be-
+forgotten morning.
+
+Then there were the frequent and unavoidable meetings of Anne and her
+former lover. For the better part of three weeks Thorpe occupied a room in
+Simmy's apartment, to be constantly near his one and only patient. He
+suffered no pecuniary loss in devoting all of his time and energy to young
+Tresslyn. Ostensibly he was in full charge of the case, but in reality he
+deferred to the opinions and advice of Dr. Bates, who came once a day. He
+had the good sense to appreciate his own lack of experience, and thereby
+earned the respect and confidence of the old practitioner.
+
+It was quite natural that he and Anne should come in contact with each
+other. They met in the sick-room, in the drawing-room, and frequently at
+table. There were times during the darkest hours in George's illness when
+they stood side by side in the watches of the night. But not once in all
+those days was there a word bearing on their own peculiar relationship
+uttered by either of them. It was plain that she had the greatest
+confidence in him, and he came, ere long, to regard her as a dependable
+and inspired help. Unlike the distracted, remorseful Lutie, she was the
+source of great inspiration to those who worked over the sick man. Thorpe
+marvelled at first and then fell into the way of resorting to her for
+support and encouragement. He had discovered that she was not playing a
+game.
+
+Templeton Thorpe's amazing will was not mentioned by either of them,
+although each knew that the subject lay uppermost in the mind of the
+other. The newspapers printed columns about the instrument. Reporters who
+laid in wait for Braden Thorpe, however, obtained no satisfaction. He had
+nothing to say. The same reporters fell upon Anne and wanted to know when
+she expected to start proceedings to have the will set aside. They seemed
+astonished to hear that there was to be no contest on her part. She could
+not tell them anything about the plans or intentions of Dr. Thorpe, and
+she had no opinion as to the ultimate effect of the "Foundation" upon the
+Constitution of the United States or the laws of God!
+
+As a matter of fact, she was more eager than any one else to know the
+stand that Braden intended to take on the all-absorbing question.
+Notwithstanding her peculiar position as executrix of the will under which
+the conditions were created, she could not bring herself to the point of
+discussing the salient feature of the document with him. And so there the
+matter stood, unmentioned by either of them, and absolutely unsettled so
+far as the man most deeply involved was concerned.
+
+Then came the day when Thorpe announced that it was no longer necessary
+for him to impose upon Simmy's hospitality, and that he was returning that
+evening to his hotel. George was out of danger. It was then that he said
+to Anne:
+
+"You have been wonderful, Anne. I want to thank you for what you have done
+to help me. You might have made the situation impossible, but--well, you
+didn't, that's all. I am glad that you and that poor little woman in there
+have become such good friends. You can do a great deal to help her--and
+George. She is a brick, Anne. You will not lose anything by standing by
+her now. As I said before, you can always reach me by telephone if
+anything goes wrong, and I'll drop in every morning to--"
+
+"I want you to know, Braden, that I firmly believe you saved George for
+us. I shall not try to thank you, however. You did your duty, of course.
+We will let Lutie weep on your neck, if you don't mind, and you may take
+my gratitude for granted." There was a slightly satirical note in her
+voice.
+
+His figure stiffened. "I don't want to be thanked," he said,--"not even by
+Lutie. You must know that I did not come into this case from choice. But
+when Lutie insisted I--well, there was nothing else to do."
+
+"Would you have come if I had asked you?" she inquired, and was very much
+surprised at herself.
+
+"No," he answered. "You would have had no reason for selecting me, and I
+would have told you as much. And to that I would have added a very good
+reason why you shouldn't."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I may as well be frank, Anne. People,--our own friends,--are bound to
+discuss us pretty thoroughly from now on. No matter how well we may
+understand each other and the situation, the rest of the world will not
+understand, simply because it doesn't want to do so. It will wait,--rather
+impatiently, I fear,--for the chance to say, 'I told you so.' Of course,
+you are sensible enough to have thought of all this, still I don't see why
+I shouldn't speak of it to you."
+
+"Has it occurred to you that our friends may be justified in thinking that
+I _did_ call upon you to take this case, Braden?" she asked quietly.
+
+He frowned. "I daresay that is true. I hadn't thought of it--"
+
+"They also believe that I summoned you to take charge of my husband a few
+weeks ago. No one has advised the world to the contrary. And now that you
+are here, in the same house with me, what do you suppose they will say?" A
+queer little smile played about her lips, a smile of diffidence and
+apology.
+
+He gave her a quick look of inquiry. "Surely no one will--"
+
+"They will say the Widow Thorpe's devotion to her brother was not her only
+excuse for moving into good old Simmy's apartment, and they will also say
+that Dr. Thorpe must be singularly without practice in order to give all
+of his time to a solitary case."
+
+"Oh, for heaven's sake, Anne," he cried impatiently, "give people credit
+for having a little commonsense and charity. They--"
+
+"I don't give them credit for having anything of the kind," she said
+coolly, "when it comes to discussing their fellow creatures. I hope you
+are not distressed, Braden. As you have said, people will discuss us. We
+cannot escape the consequences of being more or less public institutions,
+you and I. Of course they will talk about our being here together. I knew
+that when I came here three weeks ago."
+
+"Then why did you come?" he demanded.
+
+She replied with a directness that shamed him. "Because I do not want
+people to talk about Lutie. That is one reason. Another is that I wanted
+to do my share in looking after George." Suddenly her eyes narrowed.
+"You--you do not imagine that I--I--you couldn't have thought _that_ of me,
+Braden."
+
+He shook his head slowly. "If I had thought _that_, Anne, I should not
+have told you a moment ago that you were wonderful," he said.
+
+Few women would have been content to let it go at that. It is the
+prerogative of woman to expect more than a crumb, and, if it is not
+forthcoming from others, to gratify the appetite by feeding confidently
+upon herself. In this instance, Anne might have indulged herself in the
+comfort of a few tremulous words of self-justification, and even though
+they drew nothing in exchange, she would at least have had the pleasure of
+uttering them, and the additional satisfaction of knowing that he would
+have to listen to them, whether or no. But she was far too intelligent for
+that. Her good sense overcame the feminine craving; she surprised him by
+holding her tongue.
+
+He waited for a second or two and then said: "Good-bye. I shall drop in
+to-morrow to see George."
+
+She held out her hand. "He swears by you," she said, with a smile.
+
+For the first time in more than a year, their hands touched. Up to this
+moment there had not been the remotest evidence of an inclination on the
+part of either to bridge the chasm that lay between them. The handclasp
+was firm but perfunctory. She had herself under perfect control. It is of
+importance to note, however, that later on she pressed her hand to her
+lips, and that there were many times during the day when she looked at it
+as if it were something unreal and apart from her own physical being.
+
+"Thank heaven he doesn't feel toward me as he did last week," he said
+fervently. "I shall never get over that awful moment. I shall never forget
+the look of despair that--"
+
+"I know," she interrupted. "I saw it too. But it is gone now, so why make
+a ghost of it? Don't let it haunt you, Braden."
+
+"It is easy to say that I shouldn't let it--"
+
+"If you are going to begin your life's work by admitting that you are
+thin-skinned, you'll not get very far, my friend," she said seriously.
+"Good-bye."
+
+She smiled faintly as she turned away. He was never quite sure whether it
+was encouragement or mockery that lay in her dark eyes when she favoured
+him with that parting glance. He stood motionless until she disappeared
+through the door that opened into the room where George was lying; his
+eyes followed her slender, graceful figure until she was gone from sight.
+His thoughts leaped backward to the time when he had held that lovely,
+throbbing, responsive body close in his arms, to the time when he had
+kissed those, sensitive lips and had found warmth and passion in them, to
+the time when he had drunk in the delicate perfume of her hair and the
+seductive fragrance of her body. That same slender, adorable body had been
+pressed close to his, and he had trembled under the enchantment it held.
+
+He went away plagued and puzzled by an annoying question that kept on
+repeating itself without answer; was it in his power now to rouse the old
+flame in her blood, to revive the tender fires that once consumed her
+senses when he caressed her? Would she be proof against him if he set out
+to reconquer? She seemed so serene, so sure of herself. Was it a pose or
+had love really died within her?
+
+By no means the least important of the happenings in Simmy's house was the
+short but decisive contest that took place between Lutie and Mrs.
+Tresslyn. They met first in the sick-room, and the shock was entirely one-
+sided. It was George's mother who sustained it. She had not expected to
+find the despised "outcast" there. For once her admirable self-control was
+near to being shattered. If she had been permitted to exercise the right
+of speech at that crucial moment, she would have committed the
+irretrievable error of denouncing the brazen creature in the presence of
+disinterested persons. Afterwards she thanked her lucky stars for the
+circumstances which compelled her to remain angrily passive, for she was
+soon to realise what such an outburst would have brought upon her head.
+
+She took it out on Anne, as if Anne were wholly to blame for the outrage.
+Anne had the temerity,--the insolence, Mrs. Tresslyn called it,--to advise
+her to make the best of a situation that could not be helped. She held
+forth at some length for her daughter's benefit about "common decency,"
+and was further shocked by Anne's complacency.
+
+"I think she's behaving with uncommon decency," said Anne. "It isn't every
+one who would turn the other cheek like this. Let her alone. She's the
+best thing that can happen to George."
+
+"My dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Tresslyn, aghast. "Of course, I shall not come
+to this apartment while she is here. That is out of the question."
+
+"Inasmuch as Lutie was here first and means to stay, I am afraid you will
+have to reconsider that decision, mother,--provided you want to be near
+George."
+
+"Did you speak of her as 'Lutie'?" demanded Mrs. Tresslyn, staring.
+
+"I don't know what else to call her," said Anne.
+
+"Simeon Dodge will appreciate my feelings,--my position--"
+
+"Simmy is very much on her side, so I'd advise you to steer clear of him,"
+said Anne impatiently. "Now, mother dear, don't upset things here. Don't
+make a fuss. Don't--"
+
+"A fuss?" cried her mother, trying hard not to believe her ears.
+
+"Don't make it any harder for poor old Simmy. He is in for a rough time of
+it. Tresslyns everywhere! It isn't a lovely prospect, you know. He will be
+fed up with us before--And, mother, don't overlook the fact that George is
+very ill. He may not pull through. He--"
+
+"Of course he will get well. He's as strong as an ox. Don't be silly."
+
+The next day she and Lutie met in the library and had it out,--briefly, as
+I said before, but with astounding clarity. Mrs. Tresslyn swept into the
+library at four in the afternoon, coming direct from her home, where, as
+she afterwards felt called upon to explain in self-defence, the telephone
+was aggravatingly out of order,--and that was why she hadn't called up to
+inquire!--(It is so often the case when one really wants to use the stupid
+thing!) She was on the point of entering the sick-room when Lutie came up
+from behind.
+
+"I'm afraid you can't go in just now, Mrs. Tresslyn," she said, firmly and
+yet courteously.
+
+George's mother started as if stung. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and her tone was
+so declaratory that it was not necessary to add the unspoken--"it's _you_,
+is it?"
+
+"He is asleep," said Lutie gently. "They won't even allow _me_ to go in."
+
+This was too much for Mrs. Tresslyn. She transfixed the slight, tired-eyed
+young woman with a look that would have chilled any one else to the
+bone--the high-bred look that never fails to put the lowly in their places.
+
+"Indeed," she said, with infinite irony in her voice. "This is Miss
+Carnahan, I believe?" She lifted her lorgnon as a further aid to
+inspection.
+
+"I am the person you have always spoken of as Miss Carnahan," said Lutie
+calmly. Throughout the brief period in which she had been legally the wife
+of George Tresslyn, Lutie was never anything but Miss Carnahan to her
+mother-in-law. Mrs. Tresslyn very carefully forbore giving her daughter-
+in-law a respectable name. "I was afraid you might have forgotten me."
+
+"You will forgive me if I confess that I have tried very hard to forget
+you, Miss Carnahan," said the older woman.
+
+"It isn't my fault that you haven't been able to do so," said Lutie.
+"Please! you are not to go in." Mrs. Tresslyn's hand was turning the door-
+knob.
+
+"I fear you are forgetting who I am," said she coldly.
+
+"Oh, I know you're his mother, and all that," said Lutie, breathlessly. "I
+do not question your right to be with your son. That isn't the point. The
+nurse has ordered your daughter and me out of the room for awhile. It is
+the first wink of sleep he has had in heaven knows how long. So you cannot
+go in and disturb him, Mrs. Tresslyn."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn's hand fell away from the knob. For a moment she regarded
+the tense, agitated girl in silence.
+
+"Has it occurred to you to feel--if you can feel at all--that you may not be
+wanted here, Miss Carnahan?" she said, deliberately cruel. She towered
+above her adversary.
+
+"Will you be kind enough to come away from the door?" said Lutie, wholly
+unimpressed. "It isn't very thick, and the sound of voices may penetrate--"
+
+"Upon my soul!" exclaimed Mrs. Tresslyn, staring. "Do you presume to--"
+
+"Not quite so loud, if you please. Come over here if you want to talk to
+me, Mrs. Tresslyn. Nurse's orders, not mine. I don't in the least mind
+what you say to me, or what you call me, or anything, but I do entreat you
+to think of George."
+
+Greatly to her own surprise, Mrs. Tresslyn moved away from the door, and,
+blaming herself inwardly for the physical treachery that impelled her to
+do so, sat down abruptly in a chair on the opposite side of the room,
+quite as far removed from the door as even Lutie could have desired.
+
+Lutie did not sit down. She came over and stood before the woman who had
+once driven her out. Her face was white and her eyes were heavy from loss
+of sleep, but her voice was as clear and sharp as a bell.
+
+"We may as well understand each other, Mrs. Tresslyn," she said quietly.
+"Or, perhaps I'd better say that you may as well understand me. I still
+believe myself to be George's wife. A South Dakota divorce may be all
+right so far as the law is concerned, but it will not amount to
+_that_"--she snapped her fingers--"when George and I conclude to set it
+aside. I went out to that God-forsaken little town and stayed there for
+nearly a year, eating my heart out until I realised that it wasn't at all
+appetising. I lived up to my bargain, however. I made it my place of
+residence and I got my decree. I tore that hateful piece of paper up last
+night before I came here. You paid me thirty thousand dollars to give
+George up, and he allowed you to do it. Now I have just this to say, Mrs.
+Tresslyn: if George gets well, and I pray to God that he may, I am going
+back to him, and I don't care whether we go through the form of marrying
+all over again or not. He is my husband. I am his wife. There never was an
+honest cause for divorce in our case. He wasn't as brave as I'd have liked
+him to be in those days, but neither was I. If I had been as brave as I am
+now, George wouldn't be lying in there a wreck and a failure. You may take
+it into your head to ask why I am here. Well, now you know. I'm here to
+take care of my husband."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn's steady, uncompromising gaze never left the face of the
+speaker. When Lutie paused after that final declaration, she waited a
+moment for her to resume.
+
+"There is, of course," said she levelly, "the possibility that my son may
+not get well."
+
+Lutie's eyes narrowed. "You mean that you'd rather see him die than--"
+
+"Miss Carnahan, I am compelled to speak brutally to you. I paid you to
+give up my son. You took the money I proffered and the divorce I arranged
+for. You agreed to--"
+
+"Just a moment, please. I took the money and--and _got out_ in order to
+give George a chance to marry some one else and be happy. That was what
+you wanted, and what _you_ promised me. You promised me that if I gave him
+up he would find some one else more worthy, that he would forget me and be
+happy, and that I would be forgotten inside of six months. Well, none of
+these things has happened. He hasn't found any one else, he still loves
+me, and he isn't happy. I am going back on my bargain, Mrs. Tresslyn,
+because you haven't carried out your part of it. If you think it was easy
+for me to give him up when I did, you are very much mistaken. But that
+wouldn't interest you, so I'll say no more about it. We'll come down to
+the present, if you don't mind, and see where we stand; George needs me
+now, but no more than he has needed me all along. I intend to stick to him
+like a leech from this time on, Mrs. Tresslyn. You had your chance to make
+_your_ kind of a man out of him, and I guess you'll admit that you failed.
+Well, I'm going to begin where you were content to leave off. You treated
+me like a dog, and God knows you've treated George but little better,
+although perhaps you didn't know what you were doing to him. He is down
+and out. You didn't expect things to turn out as they have. You thought
+I'd be the one to go to the devil. Now I'll put it up to you squarely. I
+still have the thirty thousand you gave me. It is nicely invested. I have
+lived comfortably on the income. A few years ago I sold George to you for
+that amount. Well, I'll buy him back from you to-morrow."
+
+"Buy my son from me?" gasped Mrs. Tresslyn.
+
+"You made it a business proposition three years ago, so I'll do the same
+now. I want to be fair and square with you. I'm going to take him back in
+any event, but I shall be a great deal better satisfied if you will let me
+pay for him."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn had recovered herself by this time. She gave the younger
+woman a frosty smile.
+
+"And I suppose you will expect to get him at a considerably reduced
+price," she said sarcastically, "in view of the fact that he is damaged
+goods."
+
+"You shall have back every penny, Mrs. Tresslyn," said Lutie, with
+dignity.
+
+"How ingenuous you are. Do you really believe that I will _sell_ my son to
+you?"
+
+"I sold him to you," said the other, stubbornly.
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn arose. "I think we would better bring this interview to an
+end, Miss Carnahan. I shall spare you the opinion I have formed of you
+in--"
+
+"Just as you please, Mrs. Tresslyn," said Lutie calmly. "We'll consider
+the matter closed. George comes back to me at my own price. I--"
+
+"My son shall never marry you!" burst out Mrs. Tresslyn, furiously.
+
+Lutie smiled. "It's good to see you mad, Mrs. Tresslyn. It proves that you
+are like other people, after all. Give yourself a chance, and you'll find
+it just as easy to be glad as it is to be mad, now that you've let go of
+yourself a little bit."
+
+"You are insufferable! Be good enough to stand aside. I am going in to my
+son. He--"
+
+"If you are so vitally interested in him, how does it happen that you wait
+until four o'clock in the afternoon to come around to inquire about him?
+I've been here on the job since last night--and so has your daughter. But
+you? Where have you been all this time, Mrs. Tresslyn?"
+
+"God in heaven!" gasped Mrs. Tresslyn, otherwise speechless.
+
+"If I had a son I'd be with him day and night at--"
+
+"The telephone was out of order," began Mrs. Tresslyn before she could
+produce the power to check the impulse to justify herself in the eyes of
+this brazen tormentor.
+
+"Indeed?" said Lutie politely.
+
+"My son shall never marry you," repeated the other, helplessly.
+
+"Well," began Lutie slowly, a bright spot in each cheek, "all I have to
+say is that he will be extremely unfair to your grandchildren, Mrs.
+Tresslyn, if he doesn't."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+A ground-floor window in an apartment building in Madison Avenue, north of
+Fifty-ninth street, displayed in calm black lettering the name "Dr. Braden
+L. Thorpe, M.D." On the panel of a door just inside the main entrance
+there was a bit of gold-leaf information to the effect that office hours
+were from 9 to 10 A.M. and from 2 to 4 P.M. There was a reception room and
+a consultation room in the suite. The one was quite as cheerless and
+uninviting as any other reception room of its kind, and the other
+possessed as many of the strange, terrifying and more or less
+misunderstood devices for the prolongation of uncertainty in the minds of
+the uneasy. During office-hours there was also a doctor there. Nothing was
+missing from this properly placarded and admirably equipped
+office,--nothing at all except the patients!
+
+About the time that George Tresslyn fared forth into the world again,
+Thorpe hung out his shingle and sat himself down under his own gates to
+wait for the unwary. But no one came. The lame, the halt and even the
+blind had visions that were not to be dissipated by anything so trivial as
+a neat little sign in an office window. The name of Braden Thorpe was on
+the lips of every one. It was mentioned, not with horror or disgust, but
+as one speaks of the exalted genius whose cure for tuberculosis has
+failed, or of the man who found the North Pole by advertising in the
+newspapers, or of the books of Henry James. He was a person to steer clear
+of, that was all.
+
+Every newspaper in the country discussed him editorially, paragraphically,
+and as an article of news. For weeks after the death of Templeton Thorpe
+and the publication of his will, not a day passed in which Braden Thorpe's
+outlandish assault upon civilisation failed to receive its country-wide
+attention in the press. And when editorial writers, medical sharps, legal
+experts and grateful reporters failed to avail themselves of the full
+measure of space set apart for their gluttony, ubiquitous "Constant
+Reader" rushed into print under many aliases and enjoyed himself as never
+before.
+
+In the face of all this uproar, brought about by the posthumous utterance
+of old Templeton Thorpe, Braden had the courage,--or the temerity, if that
+is a truer word,--to put his name in a window and invite further attention
+to himself.
+
+The world, without going into the matter any deeper than it usually does,
+assumed that he who entered the office of Dr. Thorpe would never come out
+of it alive!
+
+The fact that Thorpe advocated something that could not conceivably become
+a reality short of two centuries made no impression on the world and his
+family. Dr. Thorpe believed that it was best to put sufferers out of their
+misery, and that was all there was to be said about the matter so far as
+Mr. Citizen was concerned.
+
+It would appear, therefore, that all of Templeton Thorpe's ideas, hopes
+and plans concerning the future of his grandson were to be shattered by
+his own lack of judgment and foresight. Without intending to do so he had
+deprived the young man of all that had been given him in the way of
+education, training and character. Young Thorpe might have lived down or
+surmounted the prejudice that his own revolutionary utterances created,
+but he could never overcome the stupendous obstacle that now lay in his
+path.
+
+If Mr. Thorpe had hoped to create, or believed sincerely that it was
+possible to create, a force capable of overpowering the natural instincts
+of man, he had set for himself a task that could have but one result so
+far as the present was concerned, and it was in the present that Braden
+Thorpe lived, very far removed from the future that Mr. Thorpe appeared to
+be seeing from a point close by as he lay on his death-bed. He had
+completely destroyed the present usefulness of his grandson. He had put a
+blight upon him, and now he was sleeping peacefully where mockery could
+not reach him nor reason hold him to account.
+
+The letter that the old man left for his grandson's guidance was an
+affectionate apology, very skilfully worded, for having, in a way, left
+the bulk of his fortune to the natural heir instead of to the great,
+consuming public. True, he did not put this in so many words, but it was
+obvious to the young man, if not to others who saw and read, that he was
+very clear in his mind as to the real purport and intention of the clause
+covering the foundation. He was careful to avoid the slightest expression
+that might have been seized upon by the young man as evidence of treachery
+on his part in view of the solemn promise he had made to leave to him no
+portion of his estate. On the surface, this letter was a simple, direct
+appeal to Braden to abide by the terms of the will, and to consider the
+trust as sacred in spite of the absence of restrictions. To Braden, there
+was but one real meaning to the will: the property was his to have, hold
+or dispose of as he saw fit. He was at liberty either to use every dollar
+of it in carrying out the expressed sentiments of the testator, or to sit
+back luxuriously and console himself with the thought that nothing was
+really expected of him.
+
+The Foundation that received such wide-spread notice, and brought down
+upon his head, not the wrath but the ridicule of his fellow beings, was
+not to serve in any sense as a memorial to the man who provided the money
+with which the work was to be carried on. As a matter of fact, old
+Templeton Thorpe took very good care to stipulate plainly that it was not
+to be employed to any such end. He forbade the use of his name in any
+capacity except as one of the _supporters_ of the movement. The whole
+world rose up at first and heaped anathemas on the name of Templeton
+Thorpe, and then, swiftly recovering its amiable tolerance of fools,
+forgot the dead and took its pleasure in "steering clear of the man who
+was left to hold the bag of gold," as some of the paragraphers would have
+it.
+
+The people forgot old Templeton, and they also became a bit hazy about the
+cardinal principle of the Foundation, much as they forget other disasters,
+but they did not forget to look upon Braden Thorpe as a menace to mankind.
+
+And so it was that after two months of waiting, he closed his office for
+the summer and disappeared from the city. He had not treated a solitary
+patient, nor had he been called in consultation by a single surgeon of his
+acquaintance, although many of them professed friendship for and
+confidence in him.
+
+Six weeks later Simmy Dodge located his friend in a small coast town in
+Maine, practically out of the reach of tourists and not at all accessible
+to motorists. He had taken board and lodging with a needy villager who was
+still honest, and there he sat and brooded over the curse that his own
+intelligence had laid upon him. He had been there for a month or more
+before he lifted his head, figuratively speaking, to look at the world
+again,--and he found it still bright and sparkling despite his desire to
+have it otherwise in order that he might be recompensed for his mood. Then
+it was that he wrote to Simmy Dodge, asking him to sell the furnishings
+and appliances in his office, sublet the rooms, and send to him as soon as
+possible the proceeds of the sale. He confessed frankly and in his
+straightforward way that he was hard up and needed the money!
+
+Now, it should be remembered that Braden Thorpe had very little means of
+his own, a small income from his mother's estate being all that he
+possessed. He had been dependent upon his grandfather up to the day he
+died. Years had been spent in preparing him for the personal achievements
+that were to make him famous and rich by his own hand. Splendid ability
+and unquestioned earning power were the result of Templeton Thorpe's faith
+in the last of his race. But nothing was to come of it. His ability
+remained but his earning power was gone. He was like a splendid engine
+from which the motive power has been shut off.
+
+For weeks after leaving New York he had seen the world blackly through
+eyes that grasped no perspective. But he was young, he was made of the
+flesh that fights, and the spirit that will not down. He looked up from
+the black view that had held his attention so long, and smiled. It was not
+a gay smile but one in which there was defiant humour. After all, why
+shouldn't he smile? These villagers smiled cheerfully, and what had they
+in their narrow lives to cause them to see the world brightly? He was no
+worse off than they. If they could be content to live outside the world,
+why shouldn't he be as they? He was big and strong and young. The fellows
+who went out to sea in the fishing boats were no stronger, no better than
+he. He could do the things that they were doing, and they sang while they
+went to and from their work.
+
+It was the reviving spirit in him that opened his eyes to the lowly joys
+surrounding him. He found himself thinking with surprising interest that
+he could do what these men were doing and do it well, and after all what
+more can be expected of a man than that he should do some one thing well?
+He did not realise at the time that this small, mean ambition to surpass
+these bold fishermen was nothing less than the resurrection of dead hopes.
+
+And so, when Simmy Dodge walked in upon him one day, expecting to find a
+beaten, discouraged skulker, he was confronted by a sun-browned, bare-
+armed, bright-eyed warrior whose smile was that of the man who never
+laughs,--the grim smile of him who thinks.
+
+The lines in his face had deepened under the influence of sun and wind;
+there was a new, almost unnatural ruggedness about the man Simmy had seen
+less than two months before. The cheeks had the appearance of being sunken
+and there was an even firmer look to the strong chin and jaws than in the
+so recent past. Simmy looked at this new, hardy face and wondered whether
+two months in the rough world would do as much in proportion for his own
+self-despised countenance.
+
+Thorpe had been up since five o'clock in the morning. For two weeks he had
+started off every morning at that hour with his landlord for the
+timberlands above the town, where they spent the day hewing out the sills
+and beams for a new boat-house. Unskilled at such labor, his duties were
+not those of the practised workman, but rather those of the "handy man"
+upon whom falls the most arduous tasks as a rule. Thorpe's sinews were
+strained to the utmost in handling the long, unwieldy trunks of the fallen
+trees; his hands were blistered and his legs bruised, but the splendid
+muscles were no longer sore, nor was he so fatigued at day's-end that he
+could have "dropped in his tracks" right joyfully,--as he had felt like
+doing in the first week of his toiling.
+
+"Well, I'll be jiggered," said Simmy, still holding Thorpe's hand as he
+backed away from him the better to take in this new and strange creature
+in overalls. Thorpe and his grizzled host had just come down from the
+woods with a load of pine logs, and had found the trim, immaculate little
+New Yorker waiting for them at the breakwater, directed thither by the
+housewife in the winding lane that was called High Street. "By the way, is
+your name Thorpe?" he added quizzically.
+
+"Yep," said the graduate of three great universities, gripping the little
+man's hand a trifle harder. "All that is left of me is named Thorpe,
+Simmy."
+
+"Have you--hired out as a--Good Lord, Brady, you're not as hard up as all
+that, are you?" Simmy's face was bleak with concern.
+
+"I'm doing it for the fun of the thing," said Thorpe. "Next week I'm going
+out with the boats. I say, Simmy, have you a cigarette about your person?
+I haven't had a--"
+
+Half an hour later, Simmy was seated in the cool little front porch with
+its screen of vines, the scent of the sea filling his sensitive nostrils,
+and he was drinking buttermilk.
+
+"Now, see here, Brady, it's all damned tommyrot," he was saying,--and he
+had said something of the kind several times before in the course of their
+earnest conversation. "There's just one course open to you, and that's the
+right one. You've got to come back to New York and look people in the eye
+and tell 'em to go to Gehenna if they don't like what you're doing. You
+can't go on living like this, no matter how much you love it now. You're
+not cut out for this sort of thing. Lordy, if I was as big and brutal
+looking as you are at this minute I'd stand up for myself against--"
+
+"But you will not understand," repeated Thorpe doggedly. "If my
+attainments, as you call them, are to be of no value to me in helping
+mankind, what is there left for me to do but this? Didn't I have enough of
+it in those horrible two months down there to prove to me that they hate
+me? They--"
+
+"You weren't so thin skinned as all this when you were writing those
+inspired articles of yours, were you? Confound you, Brady, you invited all
+of this, you brought it down upon your head with all that nonsense
+about--why, it was you who converted old Templeton Thorpe and here you are
+running away like a 'white-head.' Haven't you any back-bone?"
+
+"That's all very well, Simmy, but of what value is a back-bone in a case
+like mine? If I had ten back-bones I couldn't compel people to come to me
+for treatment or advice. They are afraid of me. I am a doctor, a surgeon,
+a friend to all men. But if they will not believe that I am their friend,
+how can I be of service to them?"
+
+"You'll get patients, and plenty of 'em too, if you'll just hang on and
+wait. They'll come to know that you wouldn't kill a cockroach if you could
+help it. You'll--what's the matter?" He broke off suddenly with this sharp
+question. A marked pallor had come over Thorpe's sunburnt face.
+
+"Nothing--nothing at all," muttered the other. "The heat up there in the
+woods--"
+
+"You must look out for that, old boy," said Simmy anxiously. "Go slow.
+You're only a city feller, as they'd say up here. What a God-forsaken
+place it is! Not more than two hundred miles from Boston and yet I was a
+whole day getting here."
+
+"It is peaceful, Simmy," said Thorpe.
+
+"I grant you that, by Jove. A fellow could walk in the middle of the
+street here for a solid year without being hit by an automobile. But as I
+was saying, you can make a place for yourself--"
+
+"I should starve, old fellow. You forget that I am a poor man."
+
+"Rats! You've got twenty-five thousand dollars a year, if you'll only be
+sensible. There isn't another man in the United States who would be as
+finicky about it as you are, no matter how full of ideals and principles
+he may be stuffed."
+
+Thorpe looked up suddenly. His jaw was set hard and firm once more. "Don't
+you know what people would say about me if I were to operate and the
+patient died?--as some of them do, you know. They would say that I did it
+deliberately. I couldn't afford to lose in a single instance, Simmy. I
+couldn't take the chance that other surgeons are compelled to take in a
+great many cases. One failure would be sufficient. One--"
+
+"See here, you've just got to look at things squarely, Braden. You owe
+something to your grandfather if not to yourself. He left all that money
+for a certain, definite purpose. You can't chuck it. You've got to come to
+taw. You say that he took this means of leaving the money to you, that the
+trust thing is all piffle, and all that sort of thing. Well, suppose that
+it is true, what kind of a fool would you be to turn up your nose at six
+million dollars? There are all kinds of ways of looking at it. In the
+first place, he didn't leave it to you outright. It _is_ a trust, or a
+foundation, and it has a definite end in view. You are the sole trustee,
+that's the point on which you elect to stick. You are to be allowed to
+handle this vast fortune as your judgment dictates, _as a trustee_, mind
+you. You forget that he fixed your real position rather clearly when he
+stipulated that you were to have a salary of twenty-five thousand dollars
+a year, and fees as a trustee. That doesn't look as though he left it to
+you without strings, does it?"
+
+For an hour they argued the great question. Simmy did not pretend that he
+accepted Braden's theories; in fact, he pronounced them shocking. Still,
+he contended, that was neither here nor there. Braden believed in them,
+and it wasn't any affair of his, after all.
+
+"I don't believe it is right for man to try to do God's work," said he, in
+explaining his objections. "But it doesn't matter what I think about it,
+old chap, so don't mind me."
+
+"Can't you understand, Simmy, that I advocate a simple, direct means of
+relieving the--"
+
+"Sure, I understand," broke in Simmy agreeably.
+
+"Does God send the soldiers into battle, does he send the condemned man to
+the gallows? Man does that, doesn't he? If it is God's work to drop a
+small child into a boiling vat by accident, and if He fails to kill that
+child at once, why shouldn't it be the work of man to complete the job as
+quickly as possible? We shoot down the soldiers. Is that God's work? We
+hang the murderer. Is that God's work? Emperors and kings conduct their
+wars in the name of God and thousands of God's creatures go down to death.
+Do you believe that God approves of this slaughter of the strong and
+hardy? God doesn't send the man to the gallows nor the soldier to the
+fighting line. Man does that, and he does it because he has the power to
+do it, and he lives serene in the consolation that the great, good God
+will not hold him to account for what he has done. We legalise the killing
+of the strong; but not for humane reasons. Why shouldn't we legalise the
+killing of the weak for humane reasons? It may interest you to know,
+Simmy, that we men have more merciful ways of ending life than God Himself
+directs. Why prolong life when it means agony that cannot be ended except
+by the death that so certainly waits a few days or weeks beyond--"
+
+"How can you be sure that a man is going to die? Doctors very frequently
+say that a person has no chance whatever, and then the fellow fools 'em
+and gets well."
+
+"I am not speaking of such cases. I only speak of the cases where there
+can be no doubt. There are such cases, you see. I would let Death take its
+toll, just as it has always done, and I would fight for my patient until
+the last breath was gone from his body. Two weeks ago a child was gored by
+a bull back here in the country. It was disembowelled. That child lived
+for many hours,--and suffered. That's what I mean, in substance. I too
+believe in the old maxim,--'while there's life there's hope.' That is the
+foundation on which our profession is built. A while ago you spoke of the
+extremely aged as possible victims of my theories. I suppose you meant to
+ask me if I would include them in my list. God forbid! To me there is
+nothing more beautiful than a happy, healthy, contented old age. We love
+our old people. If we love them we do not think of them as old. We want
+them to live,--just as I shall want to live, and you, Simmy. And we want
+them to die when their time comes, by God's hand not man's, for God does
+give them a peaceful, glorious end. But we don't want them to suffer, any
+more than we would want the young to suffer, I loved my grandfather. Death
+was a great boon to him. He wanted to die. But all old men do not want to
+die. They--"
+
+"We're not getting anywhere with this kind of talk," interrupted Simmy.
+"The sum and substance is this: you would put it in the power of a few men
+to destroy human life on the representation of a few doctors. If these
+doctors said--"
+
+"And why not? We put it into the power of twelve men to send a man to the
+gallows on the testimony of witnesses who may be lying like thieves. We
+take the testimony of doctors as experts in our big murder trials. If we
+believe some of them we hang the man because they say he is sane. On the
+other hand we frequently acquit the guilty man if they say he's insane."
+
+Simmy squinted a half-closed eye, calculatingly, judicially. "My dear
+fellow, the insane asylums in this country to-day hold any number of
+reasonably sane inmates, sent there by commissions which perhaps
+unintentionally followed out the plans of designing persons who were
+actuated solely by selfish and avaricious motives. Control of great
+properties falls into the hands of conspiring relatives simply because it
+happened to be an easy matter to get some one snugly into a madhouse." He
+said no more. Braden was allowed to draw his own conclusions.
+
+"Oh, I dare say people will go on putting obstacles out of their way till
+the end of time," said he coolly. "If I covet your wife or your ass or
+your money-bags I put poison in your tea and you very obligingly die, and
+all that the law can do is to send me after you as soon as the lawyers
+have got through with me. That is no argument, Simmy. That sort of thing
+will go on forever."
+
+Finally Thorpe settled back in his chair resignedly, worn out by the
+persistent argument of his tormentor.
+
+"Well, suppose that I agree with all you say,--what then? Suppose that I
+take up my burden, as you say I should, and set out to bring the world
+around to my way of thinking, where am I to begin and how?"
+
+Simmy contrived to suppress the sigh of relief that rose to his lips. This
+was making headway, after all. Things looked brighter.
+
+"My dear fellow, it will take you a good many years to even make a
+beginning. You can't go right smack up against the world and say: 'Here,
+you, look sharp! I'm going to hit you in the eye.' In the first place, you
+will have to convince the world that you are a great, big man in your
+profession. You will have to cure ten thousand people before you can make
+the world believe that you are anybody at all. Then people will listen to
+you and what you say will have some effect. You can't do anything now.
+Twenty years from now, when you are at the top of your profession, you
+will be in a position to do something. But in the meantime you will have
+to make people understand that you can cure 'em if anybody can, so that
+when you say _you_ can't cure 'em, they'll know it's final. I'm not asking
+you to renounce your ideas. You can even go on talking about them and
+writing to the newspapers and all that sort of thing, if you want to, but
+you've got to build up a reputation for yourself before you can begin to
+make use of all this money along the lines laid down for you. But first of
+all you must make people say that in spite of your theories you are a
+practical benefactor and not a plain, ordinary crank. Go on sowing the
+seed if you will, and then when the time comes found a college in which
+your principles may be safely and properly taught, and then see what
+people will say."
+
+"It sounds very simple, the way you put it," said Thorpe, with a smile.
+
+"There is no other way, my friend," said Simmy earnestly.
+
+Thorpe was silent for a long time, staring out over the dark waters of the
+bay. The sun had slipped down behind the ridge of hills to the south and
+west, and the once bright sea was now cold and sinister and unsmiling. The
+boats were stealing in from its unfriendly wastes.
+
+"I had not thought of it in that light, Simmy," he said at length. "My
+grandfather said it might take two hundred years."
+
+"Incidentally," said Simmy, shrewdly, "your grandfather knew what he was
+about when he put in the provision that you were to have twenty-five
+thousand dollars a year as a salary, so to speak. He was a far-seeing man.
+He knew that you would have a hard, uphill struggle before you got on your
+feet to stay. He may even have calculated on a lifetime, my friend. That's
+why he put in the twenty-five. He probably realised that you'd be too
+idiotic to use the money except as a means to bring about the millennium,
+and so he said to himself 'I'll have to do something to keep the damn'
+fool from starving.' You needn't have any scruples about taking your pay,
+old boy. You've got to live, you know. I think I've got the old
+gentleman's idea pretty--"
+
+"Well, let's drop the subject for to-night, Simmy," said Thorpe, coming to
+his feet. His chin was up and his shoulders thrown back as he breathed
+deeply and fully of the new life that seemed to spring up mysteriously
+from nowhere. "You'll spend the night with me. There is a spare bed and
+you'll--"
+
+"Isn't there a Ritz in the place?" inquired Simmy, scarcely able to
+conceal his joy.
+
+"Not so that you can notice it," replied Thorpe gaily. He walked to the
+edge of the porch and drank in more of that strange, puzzling air that
+came from vast distances and filled his lungs as they had never been
+filled before.
+
+Simmy watched him narrowly in the failing light. After a moment he sank
+back comfortably in the old rocking chair and smiled as a cat might smile
+in contemplating a captive mouse. The rest would be easy. Thorpe would go
+back with him. That was all that he wanted, and perhaps more than he
+expected. As for old Templeton Thorpe's "foundation," he did not give it a
+moment's thought. Time would attend to that. Time would kill it, so what
+was the use worrying. He prided himself on having done the job very
+neatly,--and he was smart enough to let the matter rest.
+
+"What is the news in town?" asked Braden, turning suddenly. There was a
+new ring in his voice. He was eager for news of the town!
+
+"Well," said Simmy naively, "there is so much to tell I don't believe I
+could get it all out before dinner."
+
+"We call it supper, Simmy."
+
+"It's all the same to me," said Simmy.
+
+And after supper he told him the news as they walked out along the
+breakwater.
+
+Anne Thorpe was in Europe. She closed the house as soon as George was able
+to go to work, and went away without any definite notion as to the length
+of her stay abroad.
+
+"She's terribly upset over having to live in that old house down there,"
+said Simmy, "and I don't blame her. It's full of ghosts, good and bad. It
+has always been her idea to buy a big house farther up town. In fact, that
+was one of the things on which she had set her heart. I don't mind telling
+you that I'm trying to find some way in which she can chuck the old house
+down there without losing anything. She wants to give it away, but I won't
+listen to that. It's worth a hundred thousand if it's worth a nickel. So
+she closed the place, dismissed the servants and--"
+
+"'Gad, my grandfather wouldn't like that," said Braden. "He was fond of
+Murray and Wade and--"
+
+"Murray has bought a saloon in Sixth Avenue and talks of going into
+politics. Old Wade absolutely refused to allow Anne to close up the house.
+He has received his legacy and turned it over to me for investment.
+Confound him, when I had him down to the office afterwards he as much as
+told me that he didn't want to be bothered with the business, and actually
+complained because I had taken him away from his work at that hour of the
+day. Anne had to leave him there as caretaker. I understand he is all
+alone in the house."
+
+"Anne is in Europe, eh? That's good," said Thorpe, more to himself than to
+his companion.
+
+"Never saw her looking more beautiful than the day she sailed," said
+Simmy, peering hard in the darkness at the other's face. "She hasn't had
+much happiness, Brady."
+
+"Umph!" was the only response, but it was sufficient to turn Simmy off
+into other channels.
+
+"I suppose you know that George and Lutie are married again."
+
+"Good! I'm glad to hear it," said Thorpe, with enthusiasm.
+
+"Married two weeks after George went to work in that big bank note
+company's plant. I got the job for him. He starts at the bottom, of
+course, but that's the right way for a chap like George to begin. He'll
+have to make good before he can go up an inch in the business. Fifteen a
+week. But he'll go up, Brady. He'll make good with Lutie to push from
+behind. Awful blow to Mrs. Tresslyn, however. He's a sort of clerk and has
+to wear sleeve papers and an eye-shade. I shall never forget the day that
+Lutie bought him back." Simmy chuckled.
+
+"Bought him back?"
+
+"Yes. She plunked thirty thousand down on the table in my office in front
+of Mrs. Tresslyn and said 'I sha'n't need a receipt, Mrs. Tresslyn. George
+is receipt enough for me.' I'd never seen Mrs. Tresslyn blush before, but
+she blushed then, my boy. Got as red as fire. Then she rose up in her
+dignity and said she wouldn't take the money. How was her son to live, she
+said, if Lutie deprived him of his visible means of support? Lutie replied
+that if George was strong enough to carry the washing back and forth from
+the customers', she'd manage to support him by taking in dirty linen. Then
+Mrs. Tresslyn broke down. Damme, Brady, it brought tears to my eyes. You
+don't know how affecting it is to see a high and mighty person like Mrs.
+Tresslyn humble herself like that. She didn't cry. I was the only one who
+cried, curse me for a silly ass. She just simply said that Lutie was the
+best and bravest girl in the world and that she was sorry for all that she
+had done to hurt her. And she asked Lutie to forgive her. Then Lutie put
+her arm around her and called her an old dear. I didn't see any more on
+account of the infernal tears. But Lutie wouldn't take back the money. She
+said that it didn't belong to her and that she couldn't look George in the
+face if she kept it. So that's how it stands. She and George have a tiny
+little apartment 'way up town,--three rooms, I believe, and so far she
+hasn't taken in anybody's washing. Anne wants to refund the money to
+Lutie, but doesn't know how to go about it. She--er--sort of left it to me
+to find the way. Lordy, I seem to get all of the tough jobs."
+
+"You are a brick, Simmy," said Thorpe, laying his arm across the little
+man's shoulders.
+
+"Heigh-ho!" sighed Simmy. Later on, as they returned through the fog that
+was settling down about them, he inquired: "By the way, will you be ready
+to start back with me to-morrow?"
+
+"Lord love you, no," cried Thorpe. "I've agreed, to help old man Stingley
+with the boat house. I'll come down in three weeks, Simmy."
+
+"Lordy, Lordy!" groaned Simmy, dejectedly. "Three weeks in this God-
+forsaken place? I'll die, Brady."
+
+"You? What are you talking about?"
+
+"Why, you don't suppose I'm going back without you, do you?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+Anne Thorpe remained in Europe for a year, returning to New York shortly
+before the breaking out of the Great War. She went to the Ritz, where she
+took an apartment. A day or two after her arrival in the city, she sent
+for Wade.
+
+"Wade," she said, as the old valet stood smirking before her in the little
+sitting-room, "I have decided not to re-open the house. I shall never re-
+open it. I do not intend to live there."
+
+The man turned a sickly green. His voice shook a little. "Are--are you
+going to close it--for good,--madam?"
+
+"I sent for you this morning to inquire if you are willing to continue
+living there as caretaker until--"
+
+"You may depend on me, Mrs. Thorpe, to--" he broke in eagerly.
+
+"--until I make up my mind what to do with the property," she concluded.
+
+He hesitated, clearing his throat. "I beg pardon for mentioning it, ma'am,
+but the will said that you would have to live in the house and that you
+may not sell it or do anything--"
+
+"I know," she interrupted shortly. "I sha'n't sell the house, of course.
+On the other hand, I do not intend to live in it. I don't care what
+becomes of it, Wade."
+
+"It's worth a great deal of money," he ventured.
+
+She was not interested. "But so am I," she said curtly. "By the way, how
+have you fared, Wade? You do not look as though you have made the best of
+your own good fortune. Are you not a trifle thinner?"
+
+The man looked down at the rug. "I am quite well, thank you. A little
+older, of course,--that's all. I haven't had a sick day in years."
+
+"Why do you stay on in service? You have means of your own,--quite a handy
+fortune, I should say. I cannot understand your willingness, to coop
+yourself up in that big old house, when you might be out seeing something
+of life, enjoying your money and--you are a very strange person, Wade."
+
+He favoured her with his twisted smile. "We can't all be alike, madam," he
+said. "Besides, I couldn't see very much of life with my small pot of
+gold. I shall always stick to my habit, I suppose, of earning my daily
+bread."
+
+"I see. Then I may depend upon you to remain in charge of the house?
+Whenever you are ready to give it up, pray do not hesitate to come to me.
+I will release you, of course."
+
+"I may possibly live to be ninety," he said, encouragingly.
+
+She stared. "You mean--that you will stay on until you die?"
+
+"Seeing that you cannot legally sell the house,--and you will not live in
+it,--I hope to be of service to you to the end of my days, madam. Have you
+considered the possibility of some one setting up a claim to the property
+on account of your--er--violation of the terms of the will?"
+
+"I should be very happy if some one were to do so, Wade," she replied with
+a smile. "I should not oppose the claim. Unfortunately there is no one to
+take the step. There are no disgruntled relatives."
+
+"Ahem! Mr. Braden, of course, might--er--be regarded as a--"
+
+"Dr. Thorpe will not set up a claim, Wade. You need not be disturbed."
+
+"There is no one else, of course," said he, with a deep breath of relief.
+
+"No one. I can't even _give_ it away. I shall go on paying taxes on it all
+my life, I daresay. And repairs and--"
+
+"Repairs won't be necessary, ma'am, unless you have a complaining tenant.
+I shall manage to keep the place in good order."
+
+"Are your wages satisfactory, Wade?"
+
+"Quite, madam." Sometimes he remembered not to say "ma'am."
+
+"And your food, your own personal comforts, your--"
+
+"Don't worry about me, madam. I make out very well."
+
+"And you are all alone there? All alone in that dark, grim old house? Oh,
+how terribly lonely it must be. I--" she shivered slightly.
+
+"I have a scrub-woman in twice a month, and Murray comes to see me once in
+awhile. I read a great deal."
+
+"And your meals?"
+
+"I get my own breakfast, and go down to Sixth Avenue for my luncheons and
+dinners. There is an excellent little restaurant quite near, you
+see,--conducted by a very estimable Southern lady in reduced circumstances.
+Her husband is a Northerner, however, and she doesn't see a great deal of
+him. I understand he is a person of very uncertain habits. They say he
+gambles. Her daughter assists her with the business. She--but, I beg
+pardon; you would not be interested in them."
+
+"I am glad that you are contented, Wade. We will consider the matter
+settled, and you will go on as heretofore. You may always find me here, if
+you desire to communicate with me at any time."
+
+Wade looked around the room. Anne's maid had come in and was employed in
+restoring a quantity of flowers to the boxes in which they had been
+delivered. There were roses and violets and orchids in profusion.
+
+Mrs. Thorpe took note of his interest. "You will be interested to hear,
+Wade, that my sister-in-law is expecting a little baby very soon. I am
+taking the flowers up to her flat."
+
+"A baby," said Wade softly. "That will be fine, madam."
+
+After Wade's departure, Anne ordered a taxi, and, with the half dozen
+boxes of flowers piled up in front of her, set out for George's home. On
+the way up through the park she experienced a strange sense of exaltation,
+a curious sort of tribute to her own lack of selfishness in the matter of
+the flowers. This feeling of self-exaltation was so pleasing to her, so
+full of promise for further demands upon her newly discovered nature, that
+she found herself wondering why she had allowed herself to be cheated out
+of so much that was agreeable during all the years of her life! She was
+now sincerely in earnest in her desire to be kind and gentle and generous
+toward others. She convinced herself of that in more ways than one. In the
+first place, she enjoyed thinking first of the comforts of others, and
+secondly of herself. That in itself was most surprising to her. Up to a
+year or two ago she would have deprived herself of nothing unless there
+was some personal satisfaction to be had from the act, such as the
+consciousness that the object of her kindness envied her the power to
+give, or that she could pity herself for having been obliged to give
+without return. Now she found joy in doing the things she once
+abhorred,--the unnecessary things, as she had been pleased to describe
+them.
+
+She loved Lutie,--and that surprised her more than anything else. She did
+not know it, but she was absorbing strength of purpose, independence, and
+sincerity from this staunch little woman who was George's wife. She would
+have cried out against the charge that Lutie had become an Influence! It
+was all right for Lutie to have an influence on the character of George,
+but--the thought of anything nearer home than that never entered her head.
+
+As a peculiar--and not especially commendable--example of her present state
+of unselfishness, she stopped for luncheon with her pretty little sister-
+in-law, and either forgot or calmly ignored the fact that she had promised
+Percy Wintermill and his sister to lunch with them at Sherry's. And later
+on, when Percy complained over the telephone she apologised with perfect
+humility,--surprising him even more than she surprised herself. She did
+not, however, feel called upon to explain to him that she had transferred
+his orchids to Lutie's living-room. That was another proof of her
+consideration for others. She knew that Percy's feelings would have been
+hurt.
+
+Lutie was radiantly happy. Her baby was coming in a fortnight.
+
+"You shall have the very best doctor in New York," said Anne, caressing
+the fair, tousled head. Her own heart was full.
+
+"We're going to have Braden Thorpe," said Lutie.
+
+Anne started. "But he is not--What you want, Lutie, is a specialist. Braden
+is--"
+
+"He's good enough for me," said Lutie serenely. Possibly she was
+astonished by the sudden, impulsive kiss that Anne bestowed upon her, and
+the more fervent embrace that followed.
+
+That afternoon Anne received many callers. Her home-coming meant a great
+deal to the friends who had lost sight of her during the period of
+preparation that began, quite naturally, with her marriage to Templeton
+Thorpe, and was now to bear its results. She would take her place once
+more in the set to which she belonged as a Tresslyn.
+
+Alas, for the memory of old Templeton Thorpe, her one-time intimates in
+society were already speaking of her,--absently, of course,--as Anne
+Tresslyn. The newspapers might continue to allude to her as the beautiful
+Mrs. Thorpe, but that was as far as it would go. Polite society would not
+be deceived. It would not deny her the respectability of marriage, to be
+sure, but on the other hand, it wouldn't think of her as having been
+married to old Mr. Thorpe. It might occasionally give a thought or two to
+the money that had once been Mr. Thorpe's, and it might go so far as to
+pity Anne because she had been stupid or ill-advised in the matter of a
+much-discussed ante-nuptial arrangement, but nothing could alter the fact
+that she had never ceased being a Tresslyn, and that there was infinite
+justice in the restoration of at least one of the Tresslyns to a state of
+affluence. It remains to be seen whether Society's estimate of her was
+right or wrong.
+
+Her mother came in for half an hour, and admitted that the baby would be a
+good thing for poor George.
+
+"I am rather glad it is coming," she said. "I shall know what to do with
+that hateful money she forced me to take back."
+
+"What do you mean, mother?"
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn lifted her lorgnon. "Have you forgotten, my dear?"
+
+"Of course I haven't. But what _do_ you mean?"
+
+"It is perfectly simple, Anne. I mean that as soon as this baby comes I
+shall settle the whole of that thirty thousand dollars upon it, and have
+it off my mind forever. Heaven knows it has plagued me to--"
+
+"You--but, mother, can you afford to do anything so--"
+
+"My dear, it may interest you to know that your mother possesses a great
+deal of that abomination known as pride. I have not spent so much as a
+penny of Lutie Car--of my daughter-in-law's money. You look surprised. Have
+you been thinking so ill of me as that? Did you believe that I--"
+
+Anne threw her arms about her mother's neck, and kissed her rapturously.
+
+"I see you _did_ believe it of me," said Mrs. Tresslyn drily. Then she
+kissed her daughter in return. "I haven't been able to look my daughter-
+in-law in the face since she virtually threw all that money back into
+mine. I've been almost distracted trying to think of a way to force it
+back upon her, so that I might be at peace with myself. This baby will
+open the way. It will simplify everything. It shall be worth thirty
+thousand dollars in its own right the day it is born."
+
+Anne was beaming. "And on that same day, mother dear, I will replace the
+amount that you turn over to--"
+
+"You will do nothing of the kind," said Mrs. Tresslyn sharply. "I am not
+doing this thing because I am kind-hearted, affectionate, or even
+remorseful. I shall do it because it pleases me, and not for the sake of
+pleasing any one else. Now we'll drop the subject. I do hope, however,
+that if George doesn't take the trouble to telephone me within a
+reasonable time after his child comes into the world--say within a day or
+two--I hope you will do so."
+
+"Really, mother, you are a very wonderful person," said Anne, rather wide-
+eyed.
+
+"No more wonderful, my dear, than Lutie Carnahan, if you will pause for a
+moment to think of what _she_ did."
+
+"She is very proud, and very happy," said Anne dubiously. "She and George
+may refuse to accept this--"
+
+"My dear Anne," interrupted her mother calmly, "pray let me remind you
+that Lutie is no fool. And now, tell me something about your plans. Where
+are you going for the summer?"
+
+"That depends entirely on where my nephew wants to spend the heated term,"
+said Anne brightly. "I shall take him and Lutie into the country with me."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn winced. "It doesn't sound quite so terrible as grandson, at
+any rate," she remarked, considering the first sentence only.
+
+"I do hope it will be a boy," mused Anne.
+
+"I believe I could love her if she gave us a boy," said the other. "I am
+beginning to feel that we need more men in the family."
+
+One of the last to drop in during the afternoon to welcome Anne back to
+the fold was the imposing and more or less redoubtable Mrs. Wintermill,
+head of the exclusive family to which Percy belonged. Percy's father was
+still alive but he was a business man, and as such he met his family as he
+would any other liability: when necessary.
+
+Mrs. Wintermill's first remark after saying that she was glad to see Anne
+looking so well was obviously the result of a quick and searching glance
+around the room.
+
+"Isn't Percy here?" she inquired.
+
+Anne had just had an uncomfortable half minute on the telephone with
+Percy. "Not unless he is hiding behind that couch over there, Mrs.
+Wintermill," she said airily. "He is coming up later, I believe."
+
+"I was to meet him here," said Mrs. Wintermill, above flippancy. "Is it
+five o'clock?"
+
+"No," said Anne. Mrs. Wintermill smiled again. She was puzzled a little by
+the somewhat convulsive gurgle that burst from Anne's lips. "I beg your
+pardon. I just happened to think of something." She turned away to say
+good-bye to the last of her remaining visitors,--two middle-aged ladies who
+had not made her acquaintance until after her marriage to Templeton Thorpe
+and therefore were not by way of knowing Mrs. Wintermill without the aid
+of opera-glasses. "Do come and see me again."
+
+"Who are they?" demanded Mrs. Wintermill before the servant had time to
+close the door behind the departing ones. She did not go to the trouble of
+speaking in an undertone.
+
+"Old friends of Mr. Thorpe's," said Anne. "Washington Square people. More
+tea, Ludwig. How well you are looking, Mrs. Wintermill. So good of you to
+come."
+
+"We wanted to be among the first--if not the very first--to welcome you
+home, Jane. Percy said to me this morning before he left for the office:
+'Mother, you must run in and see Jane Tresslyn to-day.' Ahem! Dear me, I
+seem to have got into the habit of dropping things every time I move.
+Thanks, dear. Ahem! As I was saying, I said to Percy this morning: 'I must
+run in and see Jane Tresslyn to-day.' And Percy said that he would meet me
+here and go on to the--Do you remember the Fenns? The Rumsey Fenns?"
+
+"Oh, yes. I've been away only a year, you know, Mrs. Wintermill."
+
+"It seems ages. Well, the Fenns are having something or other for a French
+woman,--or a man, I'm not quite sure,--who is trying to introduce a new
+tuberculosis serum over here. I shouldn't be the least bit surprised to
+see it publicly injected into Mr. Fenn, who, I am told, has everything his
+wife wants him to have. My daughter was saying only a day or two ago that
+Rumsey Fenn,--we don't know them very well, of course,--naturally, we
+wouldn't, you know--er--what was I saying? Ah, yes; Percy declared that the
+city would be something like itself once more, now that you've come home,
+Jennie. I beg your pardon;--which is it that you prefer? I've quite
+forgotten. Jennie or Jane?"
+
+"It doesn't in the least matter, Mrs. Wintermill," said Anne amiably.
+"There isn't much choice."
+
+"How is your mother?"
+
+"Quite well, thank you. And how is Mr. Wintermill?"
+
+"As I was saying, Mrs. Fenn dances beautifully. Percy,--he's really quite
+silly about dancing,--Percy says she's the best he knows. I do not pretend
+to dance all of the new ones myself, but--Did you inquire about Mr.
+Wintermill? He's doing it, too, as they say in the song. By the way, I
+should have asked before: how is your mother? I haven't seen her in weeks.
+Good heavens!" The good lady actually turned pale. "It was your husband
+who died, wasn't it? Not your--but, of course, _not_. What a relief. You
+say she's well?"
+
+"You barely missed her. She was here this afternoon."
+
+"So sorry. It _is_ good to have you with us again, Kate. How pretty you
+are. Do you like the Ritz?"
+
+A bell-boy delivered a huge basket of roses at the door at this juncture.
+Mrs. Wintermill eyed them sharply as Ludwig paused for instructions. Anne
+languidly picked up the detached envelope and looked at the card it
+contained.
+
+"Put it on the piano, Ludwig," she said. "They are from Eddie Townshield,"
+she announced, kindly relieving her visitor's curiosity.
+
+"Really," said Mrs. Wintermill. She sent a very searching glance around
+the room once more. This time she was not looking for Percy, but for
+Percy's tribute. She was annoyed with Percy. What did he mean by not
+sending flowers to Anne Tresslyn? In her anger she got the name right.
+"Orchids are Percy's favourites, Anne. He never sends anything but
+orchids. He--"
+
+"He sent me some gorgeous orchids this morning," said Anne.
+
+Mrs. Wintermill looked again, even squinting her eyes. "I suppose they
+_aren't_ very hardy at this time of the year. I've noticed they perish--"
+
+"Oh, these were exceedingly robust," interrupted Anne. "They'll live for
+days." Her visitor gave it up, sinking back with a faint sigh. "I've had
+millions of roses and orchids and violets since I landed. Every one has
+been so nice."
+
+Mrs. Wintermill sat up a little straighter in her chair. "New York men are
+rather punctilious about such things," she ventured. It was an inquiry.
+
+"Captain Poindexter, Dickie Fowless, Herb. Vandervelt,--oh, I can't
+remember all of them. The room looked like Thorley's this morning."
+
+Mrs. Wintermill could not stand it any longer. "What have you done with
+them, my dear?"
+
+Anne enjoyed being veracious. "I took a whole truckload up to my sister-
+in-law. She's going to have a baby."
+
+Her visitor stiffened. "I was not aware that you had a sister-in-law. Mr.
+Thorpe was especially free from relatives."
+
+"Oh, this is George's wife. Dear little Lutie Carnahan, don't you know?
+She's adorable."
+
+"Oh!" oozed from the other's lips. "I--I think I do recall the fact that
+George was married while in college. It is very nice of you to share your
+flowers with her. I loathed them, however, when Percy and Elaine were
+coming. It must be after five, isn't it?"
+
+"Two minutes after," said Anne.
+
+"I thought so. I wonder what has become of--Oh, by the way, Jane, Percy was
+saying the other day that Eddie Townshield has really been thrown over by
+that silly little Egburt girl. He was frightfully gone on her, you know.
+You wouldn't know her. She came out after you went into retirement. That's
+rather good, isn't it? Retirement! I must tell that to Percy. He thinks I
+haven't a grain of humour, my dear. It bores him, I fancy, because he is
+so witty himself. And heaven knows he doesn't get it from his father. That
+reminds me, have you heard that Captain Poindexter is about to be
+dismissed from the army on account of that affair with Mrs. Coles last
+winter? The government is very strict about--Ah, perhaps that is Percy
+now."
+
+But it was not Percy,--only a boy with a telegram.
+
+"Will you pardon me?" said Anne, and tore open the envelope. "Why, it's
+from Percy."
+
+"From--dear me, what is it, Anne? Has anything happened--"
+
+"Just a word to say that he will be fifteen or twenty minutes late," said
+Anne drily.
+
+"He is the most thoughtful boy in--But as I was saying, Herbie Vandervelt's
+affair with Anita Coles was the talk of the town last winter. Every one
+says that he will not marry her even though Coles divorces her. How I hate
+that in men. They are not all that sort, thank God. I suppose the business
+in connection with the estate has been settled, hasn't it? As I recall it,
+the will was a very simple one, aside from that ridiculous provision that
+shocked every one so much. I think you made a great mistake in not
+contesting it, Annie. Percy says that it wouldn't have stood in any court.
+By the way, have you seen Braden Thorpe?" She eyed her hostess rather
+narrowly.
+
+"No," was the reply. "It hasn't been necessary, you know. Mr. Dodge
+attended to everything. My duties as executrix were trifling. My report,
+or whatever you call it, was ready months ago."
+
+"And all that money? I mean, the money that went to Braden. What of that?"
+
+"It did not go to Braden, Mrs. Wintermill," said Anne levelly. "It is in
+trust."
+
+Mrs. Wintermill smiled. "Oh, nothing will come of that," she said. "Percy
+says that you could bet your boots that Braden would have contested if
+things had been the other way round."
+
+"I'm sure I don't know," said Anne briefly.
+
+"I hear that he is hanging on in spite of what the world says about him,
+trying to get a practice. Percy sees him quite frequently. He's really
+sorry for him. When Percy likes a person nothing in the world can turn him
+against--why, he would lend him money as long as his own lasted. He--"
+
+"Has Braden borrowed money from Percy?" demanded Anne quickly.
+
+"I did not say that he had, my dear," said the other reprovingly. "I
+merely said that he would lend it to him in any amount if he asked for it.
+Of course, Braden would probably go to Simmy Dodge in case of--they are
+almost inseparable, you know. Simmy has been quite a brick, sticking to
+him like this. My dear,"--leaning a little closer and lowering her voice on
+Ludwig's account,--"do you know that the poor fellow didn't have a patient
+for nearly six months? People wouldn't go near him. I hear that he has
+been doing better of late. I think it was Percy who said that he had
+operated successfully on a man who had gall stones. Oh, yes, I quite
+forgot that Percy says he has twenty-five thousand dollars a year as wages
+for acting as trustee. I fancy he doesn't hesitate to use it to the best
+advantage. As long as he has that, I dare say he will not starve or go
+naked."
+
+Receiving no response from Anne, she took courage and playfully shook her
+finger at the young woman. "Wasn't there some ridiculous talk of an
+adolescent engagement a few years ago? How queer nature is! I can't
+imagine you even being interested in him. So soggy and emotionless, and
+you so full of life and verve and--Still they say he is completely wrapped
+up in his profession, such as it is. I've always said that a daughter of
+mine should never marry a doctor. As a matter of fact, a doctor never
+should marry. No woman should be subjected to the life that a doctor's
+wife has to lead. In the first place, if he is any good at all in his
+profession, he can't afford to give her any time or thought, and then
+there is always the danger one runs from women patients. You never could
+be quite sure that everything was all right, don't you know. Besides, I've
+always had a horror of the infectious diseases they may be carrying around
+in their--why, think of small-pox and diphtheria and scarlet fever! Those
+diseases--"
+
+"My dear Mrs. Wintermill," interrupted Anne, with a smile, "I am not
+thinking of marrying a doctor."
+
+"Of course you are not," said Mrs. Wintermill promptly. "I wasn't thinking
+of that. I--"
+
+"Besides, there is a lot of difference between a surgeon and a regular
+practitioner. Surgeons do not treat small-pox and that sort of thing. You
+couldn't object to a surgeon, could you?" She spoke very sweetly and
+without a trace of ridicule in her manner.
+
+"I have a horror of surgeons," said the other, catching at her purse as it
+once more started to slip from her capacious lap. She got it in time.
+"Blood on their hands every time they earn a fee. No, thank you. I am not
+a sanguinary person."
+
+All of which leads up to the belated announcement that Mrs. Wintermill was
+extremely desirous of having the beautiful and wealthy widow of Templeton
+Thorpe for a daughter-in-law.
+
+"I suppose you know that James,--but naturally you wouldn't know, having
+just landed, my dear Jane. You haven't seen Braden Thorpe, so it isn't
+likely that you could have heard. I fancy he isn't saying much about it,
+in any event. The world is too eager to rake up things against him in view
+of his extraordinary ideas on--"
+
+"You were speaking of James, but _what_ James, Mrs. Wintermill?"
+interrupted Anne, sensing.
+
+Mrs. Wintermill lowered her voice. "Inasmuch as you are rather closely
+related to Braden by marriage, you will be interested to know that he is
+to perform a very serious operation upon James Marraville." There was no
+mistaking the awe in her voice.
+
+"The banker?"
+
+"The great James Marraville," said Mrs. Wintermill, suddenly passing her
+handkerchief over her brow. "He is said to be in a hopeless condition,"
+she added, pronouncing the words slowly.
+
+"I--I had not heard of it, Mrs. Wintermill," murmured Anne, going cold to
+the very marrow.
+
+"Every one has given him up. It is terrible. A few days ago he sent for
+Braden Thorpe and--well, it was announced in the papers that there will be
+an operation to-morrow or the next day. Of course, he cannot survive it.
+That is admitted by every one. Mr. Wintermill went over to see him last
+night. He was really shocked to find Mr. Marraville quite cheerful
+and--contented. I fancy you know what that means."
+
+"And Braden is going to operate?" said Anne slowly.
+
+"No one else will undertake it, of course," said the other, something like
+a triumphant note in her voice.
+
+"What a wonderful thing it would be for Braden if he were to succeed,"
+cried Anne, battling against her own sickening conviction. "Think what it
+would mean if he were to save the life of a man so important as James
+Marraville,--one of the most talked-of men in the country. It would--"
+
+"But he will not save the man's life," said Mrs. Wintermill significantly.
+"I do not believe that Marraville himself expects that." She hesitated for
+an instant. "It is really dreadful that Braden should have achieved so
+much notoriety on account of--I _beg_ your pardon!"
+
+Anne had arisen and was standing over her visitor in an attitude at once
+menacing and theatric. The old lady blinked and caught her breath.
+
+"If you are trying to make me believe, Mrs. Wintermill, that Braden would
+consent to--But, why should I insult him by attempting to defend him when
+no defence is necessary? I know him well enough to say that he would not
+operate on James Marraville for all the money in the world unless he
+believed that there was a chance to pull him through." She spoke rapidly
+and rather too intensely for Mrs. Wintermill's peace of mind.
+
+"That is just what Percy says," stammered the older woman hastily. "He
+believes in Braden. He says it's all tommyrot about Marraville paying him
+to put him out of his misery. My dear, I don't believe there is a more
+loyal creature on earth than Percy Wintermill. He--"
+
+Percy was announced at that instant. He came quickly into the room and,
+failing utterly to see his mother, went up to Anne and inquired what the
+deuce had happened to prevent her coming to luncheon, and why she didn't
+have the grace to let him know, and what did she take him for, anyway.
+
+"Elaine and I stood around over there for an hour,--an hour, do you get
+that?--biting everything but food, and--"
+
+"I'm awfully sorry, Percy," said Anne calmly. "I wouldn't offend Elaine
+for the world. She's--"
+
+"Elaine? What about me? Elaine took it as a joke, confound her,--but I
+didn't. Now see here, Anne, old girl, you know I'm not in the habit of
+being--"
+
+"Here is your mother, Percy," interrupted Anne coldly.
+
+"Hello! You still waiting for me, mother? I say, what do you think Anne's
+been doing to your angel child? Forgetting that he's on earth, that's all.
+Now, where were you, Anne, and what's the racket? I'm not in the habit of
+being--"
+
+"I forgot all about it, Percy," confessed Anne deliberately. She was
+conscious of a sadly unfeminine longing to see just how Percy's nose
+_could_ look under certain conditions. "I couldn't say that to you over
+the phone, however,--could I?"
+
+"Anne's sister-in-law is expecting a baby," put in Mrs. Wintermill
+fatuously. This would never do! Percy ought to know better than to say
+such things to Anne. What on earth had got into him? Except for the
+foregoing effort, however, she was quite speechless.
+
+"What's that got to do with it?" demanded Percy, chucking his gloves
+toward the piano. He faced Anne once more, prepared to insist on full
+satisfaction. The look in her eyes, however, caused him to refrain from
+pursuing his tactics. He smiled in a sickly fashion and said, after a
+moment devoted to reconstruction: "But, never mind, Anne; I was only
+having a little fun bullying you. That's a man's privilege, don't you
+know. We'll try it again to-morrow, if you say so."
+
+"I have an engagement," said Anne briefly. The next instant she smiled.
+"Next week perhaps, if you will allow me the privilege of forgetting
+again."
+
+"Oh, I say!" said Percy, blinking his eyes. How was he to take that sort
+of talk? He didn't know. And for fear that he might say the wrong thing if
+he attempted to respond to her humour, he turned to his mother and
+remarked: "Don't wait for me, mother. Run along, do. I'm going to stop for
+a chat with Anne."
+
+As Mrs. Wintermill went out she met Simmy Dodge in the hall.
+
+"Would you mind, Simmy dear, coming down to the automobile with me?" she
+said quickly. "I--I think I feel a bit faint."
+
+"I'll drive home with you, if you like," said the good Simmy,
+solicitously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+She saw by the evening papers that the operation on Marraville was to take
+place the next day. That night she slept but little. When her maid roused
+her from the slumber that came long after the sun was up, she immediately
+called for the morning papers. In her heart she was hoping, almost praying
+that they would report the death of James Marraville during the night.
+Then, as she read with burning eyes, she found herself hoping against hope
+that the old man would, at the last moment, refuse to undergo the
+operation, or that some member of his family would protest. But even as
+she hoped, she knew that there would be no objection on the part of either
+Marraville or his children. He was an old man, he was fatally ill, he was
+through with life. There would be no obstacle placed in the way of Death.
+His time had come and there was no one to ask for a respite. He would die
+under the knife and every one would be convinced that it was for the best.
+As she sat up in bed, staring before her with bleak, unseeing eyes, she
+had an inward vision of this rich man's family counting in advance the
+profits of the day's business! Braden Thorpe was to be the only victim. He
+was to be the one to suffer. Two big tears grew in her eyes and rolled
+down her cheeks. She had never loved Braden Thorpe as she loved him now.
+
+She knew that he was moved by honest intentions. That he confidently
+believed he could preserve this man's life she would not for an instant
+doubt. But why had he agreed to undertake the feat that other men had
+declared was useless, the work that other men had said to be absolutely
+unnecessary? A faint ray of comfort rested on the possibility that these
+great surgeons, appreciating, the wide-spread interest that naturally
+would attend the fate of so great a man as James Marraville, were loth to
+face certain failure, but even that comfort was destroyed by an
+intelligence that argued for these surgeons instead of against them. They
+had said that the case was hopeless. They were honest men. They had the
+courage to say: "This man must die. It is God's work, not ours," and had
+turned away. They were big men; they would not operate just for the sake
+of operating. And when they admitted that it was useless they were
+convincing the world that they were honourable men. Therefore,--she almost
+ground her pretty teeth at the thought of it,--old Marraville and his
+family had turned to Braden Thorpe as one without honour or conscience!
+
+She had never been entirely free from the notion that her husband's death
+was the result of premeditated action on the part of his grandson, but in
+that instance there was more than professional zeal in the heart of the
+surgeon: there was love and pity and gentleness in the heart of Braden
+Thorpe when he obeyed the command of the dying man. If he were to come to
+her now, or at any time, with the confession that he had deliberately
+ended the suffering of the man he loved, she would have put her hand in
+his and looked him in the eye while she spoke her words of commendation.
+Templeton Thorpe had the right to appeal to him in his hour of
+hopelessness, but this other man--this mighty Marraville!--what right had he
+to demand the sacrifice? She had witnessed the suffering of Templeton
+Thorpe, she had prayed for death to relieve him; he had called upon her to
+be merciful, and she had denied him. She wondered if James Marraville had
+turned to those nearest and dearest to him with the cry for mercy. She
+wondered if the little pellets had been left at his bedside. She knew the
+extent of his agony, and yet she had no pity for him. He was not asking
+for mercy at the hands of a man who loved him and who could not deny him.
+He was demanding something for which he was willing to pay, not with love
+and gratitude, but with money. Would he look up into Braden's eyes and
+say, "God bless you," when the end was at hand?
+
+Moved by a sudden irresistible impulse she flung reserve aside and decided
+to make an appeal to Braden. She would go to him and plead with him to
+spare himself instead of this rich old man. She would go down on her knees
+to him, she would humble and humiliate herself, she would cry out her
+unwanted love to him....
+
+At nine o'clock she was at his office. He was gone for the day, the little
+placard on the door informed her. Gone for the day! In her desperation she
+called Simmy Dodge on the telephone. He would tell her what to do. But
+Simmy's man told her that his master had just gone away in the motor with
+Dr. Thorpe,--for a long ride into the country. Scarcely knowing what she
+did she hurried on to Lutie's apartment, far uptown.
+
+"What on earth is the matter, Anne?" cried the gay little wife as her
+sister-in-law stalked into the tiny drawing-room and threw herself
+dejectedly upon a couch. Lutie was properly alarmed and sympathetic.
+
+It was what Anne needed. She unburdened herself.
+
+"But," said Lutie cheerfully, "supposing he should save the old codger's
+life, what then? Why do you look at the black side of the thing? While
+there's life, there's hope. You don't imagine for an instant that Dr.
+Thorpe is going into this big job with an idea of losing his patient, do
+you?"
+
+Anne's eyes brightened. A wave of relief surged into her heart.
+
+"Oh, Lutie, Lutie, do you really believe that Braden thinks he can save
+him?"
+
+Lutie's eyes opened very wide. "What in heaven's name are you saying? You
+don't suppose he's thinking of anything else, do you?" A queer, sinking
+sensation assailed her suddenly. She remembered. She knew what was in
+Anne's mind. "Oh, I see! You--" she checked the words in time. An instant
+later her ready tongue saved the situation. "You don't seem to understand
+what a golden opportunity this is for Braden. Here is a case that every
+newspaper in the country is talking about. It's the chance of a lifetime.
+He'll do his best, let me tell you that. If Mr. Marraville dies, it won't
+be Braden's fault. You see, he's just beginning to build up a practice.
+He's had a few unimportant cases and he's--well, he's just beginning to
+realise that pluck and perseverance will do 'most anything for a fellow.
+Now, here comes James Marraville, willing to take a chance with
+him--because it's the only chance left, I'll admit,--and you can bet your
+last dollar, Anne, that Braden isn't going to make a philanthropic job of
+it."
+
+"But if he fails, Lutie,--if he fails don't you see what the papers will
+say? They will crush him to--"
+
+"Why should they? Bigger men than he have failed, haven't they?"
+
+"But it will ruin Braden forever. It will be the end of all his hopes, all
+his ambitions. _This_ will convict him as no other--"
+
+"Now, don't get excited, dear," cautioned the other gently. "You're
+working yourself into an awful state. I think I understand, Anne. You poor
+old girl!"
+
+"I want you to know, Lutie. I want some one to know what he is to me, in
+spite of everything."
+
+Then Lutie sat down beside her and, after deliberately pulling the pins
+from her visitor's hat, tossed it aimlessly in the direction of a near-by
+chair,--failing to hit it by several feet,--and drew the smooth, troubled
+head down upon her shoulder.
+
+"Stay and have luncheon with George and me," she said, after a half hour
+of confidences. "It will do you good. I'll not breathe a word of what
+you've said to me,--not even to old George. He's getting so nervous
+nowadays that he comes home to lunch and telephones three or four times a
+day. It's an awful strain on him. He doesn't eat a thing, poor dear. I'm
+really quite worried about him. Take a little snooze here on the sofa,
+Anne. You must be worn out. I'll cover you up--"
+
+The door-bell rang.
+
+Lutie started and her jaw fell. "Good gracious! That's--that's Dr. Thorpe
+now. He is the only one who comes up without being announced from
+downstairs. Oh, dear! What shall I--Don't you think you'd better see him,
+Anne?"
+
+Anne had arisen. A warm flush had come into her pale cheeks. She was
+breathing quickly and her eyes were bright.
+
+"I will see him, Lutie. Would you mind leaving us alone together for a
+while? I must make sure of one thing. Then I'll be satisfied."
+
+Lutie regarded her keenly for a moment. "Just remember that you can't
+afford to make a fool of yourself," she said curtly, and went to the door.
+A most extraordinary thought entered Anne's mind, a distinct thought among
+many that were confused: Lutie ought to have a parlour-maid, and she would
+make it her business to see that she had one at once. Poor, plucky little
+thing! And then the door was opened and Thorpe walked into the room.
+
+"Well, how are we this morning?" he inquired cheerily, clasping Lutie's
+hand. "Fine, I see. I happened to be passing with Simmy and thought I'd
+run in and see--" His gaze fell upon the tall, motionless figure on the
+opposite side of the room, and the words died on his lips.
+
+"It's Anne," said Lutie fatuously.
+
+For a moment there was not a sound or a movement in the little room. The
+man was staring over Lutie's head at the slim, elegant figure in the
+modish spring gown,--it was something smart and trig, he knew, and it was
+not black. Then he advanced with his hand extended.
+
+"I am glad to see you back, Anne. I heard you had returned." Their hands
+met in a brief clasp. His face was grave, and a queer pallor had taken the
+place of the warm glow of an instant before.
+
+"Three days ago," she said, and that was all. Her throat was tight and
+dry. He had not taken his eyes from hers. She felt them burning into her
+own, and somehow it hurt,--she knew not why.
+
+"Well, it's good to see you," he mumbled, finding no other words. He
+pulled himself together with an effort. He had not expected to see her
+here. He had dreamed of her during the night just past. "Simmy is waiting
+down below in the car. I just dropped in for a moment. Can't keep him
+waiting, Lutie, so I'll--"
+
+"Won't you spare me a few moments, Braden?" said Anne steadily. "There is
+something that I must say to you. To-morrow will not do. It must be now."
+
+He looked concerned. "Has anything serious--"
+
+"Nothing--yet," she broke in, anticipating his question.
+
+"Sit down, Braden," said Lutie cheerfully. "I'll make myself scarce. I see
+you are down for a big job to-day. Good boy! I told you they'd come your
+way if you waited long enough. It is a big job, isn't it?"
+
+"Ra-_ther_," said he, smiling. "I daresay it will make or break me."
+
+"I should think you'd be frightfully nervous."
+
+"Well, I'm not, strange to say. On the contrary, I'm as fit as a fiddle."
+
+"When do you--perform this operation?" Anne asked, as Lutie left the room.
+
+"This afternoon. He has a superstition about it. Doesn't want it done
+until after banking hours. Queerest idea I've ever known." He spoke in
+quick, jerky sentences.
+
+She held her breath for an instant, and then cried out imploringly: "I
+don't want you to do it, Braden,--I don't want you to do it. If not for my
+sake, then for your own you must refuse to go on with it."
+
+He looked straight into her troubled, frightened eyes. "I suppose you are
+like the rest of them: you think I'm going to kill him, eh?" His voice was
+low and bitter.
+
+She winced, half closing her eyes as if a blow had been aimed at them.
+"Oh, don't say that! How horrible it sounds when you--_speak it_."
+
+He could see that she was trembling, and suddenly experienced an odd
+feeling of contentment. He had seen it in her eyes once more: the love
+that had never faltered although dragged in the dirt, discredited and
+betrayed. She still loved him, and he was glad to know it. He could gloat
+over it.
+
+"I am not afraid to speak it, as you say," he said curtly. Then he pitied
+her. "I'm sorry, Anne. I shouldn't have said it. I think I understand what
+you mean. It's good of you to care. But I am going ahead with it, just the
+same." His jaw was set in the old, resolute way.
+
+"Do you know what they will say if you--fail?" Her voice was husky.
+
+"Yes, I know. I also know why they finally came to me. They haven't any
+hope. They believe that I may--well, at least I will not say _that_, Anne.
+Down in their hearts they all hope,--but it isn't the kind of hope that
+usually precedes an operation. No one has dared to suggest to me that I
+put him out of his misery, but that's what they're expecting,--all of them.
+But they are going to be disappointed. I do not owe anything to James
+Marraville. He is nothing to me. I do not love him as I loved my
+grandfather."
+
+He spoke slowly, with grave deliberation; there was not the slightest
+doubt that he intended her to accept this veiled explanation of his
+present attitude as a confession that he had taken his grandfather's life.
+
+She was silent. She understood. He went on, more hurriedly:
+
+"I can only say to you, Anne, that my grandfather might have gone on
+living for a few weeks or even months. Well, there is no reason why
+Marraville shouldn't go on living for awhile. Do you see what I mean? He
+shall not die to-day if I can help it. He will hang on for weeks, not
+permanently relieved but at least comforted in the belief that his case
+isn't hopeless. I shall do my best." He smiled sardonically. "The
+operation will be called a success, and he will merely go on dying instead
+of having it all over with."
+
+She closed her eyes. "Oh, how cruel it is," she murmured. "How cruel it
+is, after all."
+
+"He will curse me for failing to do my duty," said he grimly. "The world
+will probably say that I am a benefactor to the human race, after all, and
+I will be called a great man because I allow him a few more weeks of
+agony. I may fail, of course. He may not survive the day. But no one will
+be justified in saying that I did not do my best to tide him over for a
+few weeks or months. And what a travesty it will be if I do succeed! Every
+one except James Marraville will praise me to the skies. My job will be
+done, but he will have it all to do over again,--this business of dying."
+
+She held out her hand. Her eyes had filled with tears.
+
+"God be with you, Braden." He took her hand in his, and for a moment
+looked into the swimming eyes.
+
+"You understand _everything_ now, don't you, Anne?" he inquired. His face
+was very white and serious. He released her hand.
+
+"Yes," she answered; "I understand everything. I am glad that you have
+told me. It--it makes no difference; I want you to understand that,
+Braden."
+
+It seemed to her that he would never speak. He was regarding her
+thoughtfully, evidently weighing his next words with great care.
+
+"Three doctors know," he said at last. "They must never find out that you
+know."
+
+Her eyes flashed through the tears. "I am not afraid to have the world
+know," she said quickly.
+
+He shook his head, smiling sadly.
+
+"But I am," he said. It was a long time before she grasped the full
+significance of this surprising admission. When, hours afterward, she came
+to realise all that it meant she knew that he was not thinking of himself
+when he said that he was afraid. He was thinking of her; he had thought of
+her from the first. Now she could only look puzzled and incredulous. It
+was not like him to be afraid of consequences.
+
+"If you are afraid," she demanded quickly, "why do you invite peril this
+afternoon? The chances are against you, Braden. Give it up. Tell them you
+cannot--"
+
+"This afternoon?" he broke in, rather violently. "Good God, Anne, I'm not
+afraid of what is going to happen this afternoon. Marraville isn't going
+to die to-day, poor wretch. I can't afford to let him die." He almost
+snarled the words. "I have told these people that if I fail to take him
+through this business to-day, I'll accept no pay. That is understood. The
+newspapers will be so informed in case of failure. You are shocked. Well,
+it isn't as bad as it sounds. I am in deadly earnest in this matter. It is
+my one great chance. It means more to me to save James Marraville's life
+than it means to him. I'm sorry for him, but he has to go on living, just
+the same. Thank you for being interested. Don't worry about it. I--"
+
+"The evening papers will tell me how it turns out," she said dully. "I
+shall pray for you, Braden."
+
+He turned on her savagely. "Don't do that!" he almost shouted. "I don't
+want your support. I--" Other words surged to his lips but he held them
+back. She drew back as if he had struck her a blow in the face. "I--I beg
+your pardon," he muttered, and then strode across the room to thump
+violently on the door to Lutie's bed-chamber. "Come out! I'm going. Can't
+keep the nation waiting, you know."
+
+Two minutes later Anne and Lutie were alone. The former, inwardly shaken
+despite an outward appearance of composure, declined to remain for
+luncheon, as she had done the day before. Her interest in Lutie and her
+affairs was lost in the contemplation of a reviving sense of self-
+gratification, long dormant but never quite unconscious. She had recovered
+almost instantly from the shock produced by his violent command, and where
+dismay had been there was now a warm, grateful rush of exultation. She
+suspected the meaning of that sudden, fierce lapse into rudeness. Her
+heart throbbed painfully, but with joyous relief. It was not rudeness on
+his part; on the contrary he was paying tribute to her. He was dismayed by
+the feelings he found himself unable to conquer. The outburst was the
+result of a swift realisation that she still had the power to move him in
+spite of all his mighty resolves, in spite even of the contempt he had for
+her.
+
+She walked to the Ritz. It was a long distance from George's home, but she
+went about it gladly in preference to the hurried, pent-up journey down by
+taxi or stage. She wanted to be free and unhampered. She wanted to think,
+to analyse, to speculate on what would happen next. For the present she
+was content to glory in the fact that he had unwittingly betrayed himself.
+
+She was near the Plaza before the one great, insurmountable obstacle arose
+in her mind to confound her joyous calculations. What would it all come
+to, after all? She could never be more to him than she was at this
+instant, for between them lay the truth about the death of Templeton
+Thorpe,--and Templeton Thorpe was her husband. Her exaltation was short-
+lived. The joy went out of her soul. The future looked to be even more
+barren than before the kindly hope sprang up to wave its golden prospects
+before her deluded eyes.
+
+He would never look at the situation from her point of view. Even though
+he found himself powerless to resist the love that was regaining strength
+enough to batter down the wall of prejudice her marriage had created in
+his mind, there would still stand between them his conviction that it
+would be an act of vileness to claim or even covet the wife of the man
+whose life he had taken, not in anger or reprisal but in honest devotion.
+
+Anne was not callous or unfeeling in her readiness to disregard what he
+might be expected to call the ethics of the case. She very sensibly looked
+at the question as one in which the conscience had no part, for the simple
+reason that there was no guilty motive to harass it. If his conscience was
+clear,--and it most certainly was,--there could be no sound reason for him
+to deny himself the right to reclaim that which belonged to him by all the
+laws of nature. On her part there was not the slightest feeling of
+revulsion. She did not look upon his act as a barrier. Her own act in
+betraying him was far more of a barrier than this simple thing that he had
+done. She had believed it to be insurmountable. She had long ago accepted
+as final the belief that he despised her and would go on doing so to the
+end. And now, in the last hour, there had been a revelation. He still
+loved her. His scorn, his contempt, his disgust were not equal to the task
+of subduing the emotion that lived in spite of all of them. But this other
+thing! This thing that he would call _decency_!
+
+All through the afternoon his savage, discordant cry: "Don't do that!"
+rang in her ears. She thrilled and crumpled in turn. The blood ran hot
+once more in her veins. As she looked back over the past year it seemed to
+her that her blood had been cold and sluggish. But now it was warm again
+and tingling. Even the desolating thought that her discovery would yield
+no profit failed to check the riotous, grateful warmth that raced through
+her body from crown to toe. Despair had its innings, but there was always
+compensation in the return of a joy that would not acknowledge itself
+beaten. Joy enough to feel that he could not help loving her! Joy to feel
+that he was hungry too! No matter what happened now she would know that
+she had not lost all of him.
+
+After a while she found herself actually enjoying the prospect of certain
+failure on Braden's part in the case of Marraville. Reviled and excoriated
+beyond endurance, he would take refuge in the haven that she alone could
+open to him. He would come to her and she would go with him, freely and
+gladly, into new places where he could start all over again and--But even
+as she conjured up this sacrificial picture, this false plaisance, her
+cheeks grew hot with shame. The real good that was in Anne Tresslyn leaped
+into revolt. She hated herself for the thought; she could have cursed
+herself. What manner of love was this that could think of self alone? What
+of him? What of the man she loved?
+
+She denied herself to callers. At half-past five she called up the
+hospital and inquired how Mr. Marraville was getting along. She had a
+horrid feeling that the voice at the other end would say that he was dead.
+She found a vast relief in the polite but customary "doing very nicely"
+reply that came languidly over the wires. Anne was not by way of knowing
+that the telephone operators in the hospitals would say very cheerfully
+that "Mr. Washington is doing very nicely," if one were to call up to
+inquire into the condition of the Father of his Country! An "extra" at six
+o'clock announced that the operation had taken place and that Mr.
+Marraville had survived it, although it was too soon to,--and so on and so
+forth.
+
+Then she called Simmy Dodge up on the telephone. Simmy would know if
+anybody knew. And with her customary cleverness and foresightedness she
+called him up at the hospital.
+
+After a long delay Simmy's cheery voice came singing--or rather it was
+barking--into her ear. This had been the greatest day in the life of Simeon
+Dodge. From early morn he had gone about in a state of optimistic unrest.
+He was more excited than he had ever been in his life before,--and yet he
+was beatifically serene. His brow was unclouded, his eyes sparkled and his
+voice rang with all the confidence of extreme felicity. There was no
+question in Simmy's mind as to the outcome. Braden would pull the old
+gentleman through, sure as anything. Absolutely sure, that's what Simmy
+was, and he told other people so.
+
+"Fine as silk!" he shouted back in answer to Anne's low, suppressed
+inquiry. "Never anything like it, Anne, old girl. One of the young doctors
+told me--"
+
+"Has he come out of the ether, Simmy?"
+
+"What say?"
+
+"Is he conscious? Has the ether--"
+
+"I can't say as to that," said Simmy cheerfully. "He's been back in his
+room since five o'clock. That's--let's see what time is it now? Six-
+fourteen. Nearly an hour and a quarter. They all say--"
+
+"Have you see Braden?"
+
+"Sure. He's fagged out, poor chap. Strain something awful. Good Lord, I
+wonder what it must have been to him when it came so precious near to
+putting me out of business. I thought I was dying at half-past four. I
+never expected to live to see Mr. Marraville out of the operating-room.
+Had to take something for medicinal purposes. I knew all along that Braden
+could do the job like a--"
+
+"Where is he now?"
+
+"Last I heard of him he was back in his room with the house doctor and--"
+
+"I mean Braden."
+
+"What are you sore about, Anne?" complained Simmy. Her voice had sounded
+rather querulous to him. "I thought you meant the patient. Brady is up
+there, too, I guess. Sh! I can't say anything more. A lot of reporters,
+are coming this way."
+
+The morning papers announced that James Marraville had passed a
+comfortable night and that not only Dr. Thorpe but other physicians who
+were attending him expressed the confident opinion that if he continued to
+gain throughout the day and if nothing unforeseen occurred there was no
+reason why he should not recover. He had rallied from the anaesthetic, his
+heart was good, and there was no temperature. Members of the family were
+extremely hopeful. His two sons-in-law--who were spokesmen for the other
+members of the family--were united in the opinion that Dr. Thorpe had
+performed a miracle. Dr. Thorpe, himself, declined to be interviewed. He
+referred the newspaper men to the other surgeons and physicians who were
+interested in the case.
+
+There was an underlying note of dismay, rather deftly obscured, in all of
+the newspaper accounts, however. Not one of them appeared to have
+recovered from the surprise that had thrown all of their plans out of
+order. They had counted on James Marraville's death and had prepared
+themselves accordingly. There were leading editorials in every office, and
+columns of obituary matter; and there were far from vague allusions to the
+young doctor who performed the operation. And here was the man alive! It
+was really more shocking than if he had died, as he was expected to do. It
+is no wonder, therefore, that the first accounts were almost entirely
+without mention of the doctor who had upset all of their calculations. He
+hadn't lived up to the requirements. The worst of it all was that Mr.
+Marraville's failure to expire on the operating table forever deprived
+them of the privilege of saying, invidiously, that young Doctor Thorpe had
+been called in as the last resort. It would take them a day or two, no
+doubt, to adjust themselves to the new situation, and then, if the
+millionaire was still showing signs of surviving, they would burst forth
+into praise of the marvellous young surgeon who had startled the entire
+world by his performance!
+
+In the meantime, there was still a chance that Mr. Marraville might die,
+so it was better to hesitate and be on the safe side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+James Marraville called Thorpe a coward and a poltroon. This was a week
+after the operation. They were alone in the room. For days his wondering,
+questioning eyes had sought those of the man on whom he had depended for
+everlasting peace, and always there had been a look of reproach in them.
+Not in words, but still plainly, he was asking why he still lived, why
+this man had not done the thing that was expected of him. Every one about
+him was talking of the marvellous, incredible result of the operation;
+every one was looking cheerful and saying that he would "soon be as good
+as new." And all the while he was lying there, weak and beaten, wondering
+why they lied to him, and why Man as well as God had been so cruel to him.
+He was not deceived. He knew that he had it all to live over again. He
+knew what they meant when they said that it had been very successful! And
+so, one day, in all the bitterness of his soul, he cursed the man who had
+given him a few more months to live.
+
+But there were other men and women who did not want to die. They wanted
+very dearly to live, and they had been afraid to risk an operation. Now
+that the world was tumbling over itself to proclaim the greatness of the
+surgeon who had saved James Marraville's life, the faint-hearted of all
+degrees flowed in a stream up to his doors and implored him to name his
+own price.... So goes the world....
+
+The other doctors knew, and Braden knew, and most thoroughly of all James
+Marraville knew, that while the operation was a wonderful feat in surgery,
+it might just as well have remained undone. The young doctor simply had
+done all that was in the power of man to do for a fellow creature. He had
+cheated Death out of an easy victory, but Death would come again and sit
+down beside James Marraville to wait for another day.
+
+Down near Washington Square, Wade blinked his eyes and shook his head, and
+always re-read the reports from the sick-room. He was puzzled and
+sometimes there was a faraway look in his eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lutie's baby came. He came long after midnight, and if he had been given
+the power at birth to take intelligent notice of things, he would have
+been vastly astonished to hear that his grandmother had been sitting up in
+an adjoining room with her son and daughter, anxiously, even fearfully,
+awaiting his advent into the world. And he would have been further
+astonished and perhaps distressed if any one had told him that his granny
+cried a little over him, and refused to go to her own home until she was
+quite sure that his little mother was all right. Moreover, he would have
+been gravely impressed by the presence of the celebrated Dr. Thorpe, and
+the extraordinary agony of that great big tall man who cowered and
+shivered and who wouldn't even look at him because he had eyes and thought
+for no one but the little mother. Older and wiser persons would have
+revealed considerable interest in the certificate of deposit that his
+grandmother laid on the bed beside him. He was quite a rich little boy
+without knowing it. Thirty thousand dollars is not to be sneezed at, and
+it would be highly unjust to say that it was a sneeze that sent his
+grandmother, his aunt and his father into hysterics of alarm.
+
+They called him Carnahan Tresslyn. He represented a distinct phase in the
+regeneration of a proud and haughty family.
+
+A few weeks later Anne took a house up among the hills of Westchester
+County, and moved Lutie and the baby out into the country. It did not
+occur to her to think that she was making a personal sacrifice in going up
+there to spend the hot months.
+
+Percy Wintermill informed her one day that he was going to ask her to
+marry him when the proper time arrived. It would be the third time, he
+reminded her. He was being forehanded, that was all,--declaring himself in
+advance of all others and thereby securing, as he put it, the privilege of
+priority. She was not very much moved by the preparation of Percy. In
+fact, she treated the matter with considerable impatience.
+
+"Really, you know, Percy," she said, "I'm getting rather fed up with
+refusing you. I'm sure I've done it more than three times. Why don't you
+ask some girl who will have you?"
+
+"That's just the point," said he frankly. "If I asked some girl who would
+have me, she'd take me, and then where would you come in? I don't want any
+one but you, Anne, and--"
+
+"Sorry, Perce, but it's no use," said she briefly.
+
+"Well, I haven't asked you yet," he reminded her. After some minutes,
+spent by him in rumination and by her in wondering why she didn't send him
+away, he inquired, quite casually: "Anybody else in mind, old girl?" She
+merely stared at him. "Hope it isn't Brady Thorpe," he went on. "He's one
+of my best friends. I'd hate to think that I'd have to--"
+
+"Go home, Percy," she said. "I'm going out,--and I'm late already. Thanks
+for the orchids. Don't bother to send any more. It's just a waste of
+money, old fellow. I sha'n't marry you. I sha'n't marry any one except the
+man with whom I fall desperately, horribly in love,--and I'm not going to
+fall in love with you, so run away."
+
+"You weren't in love with old man Thorpe, were you?" he demanded, flushing
+angrily.
+
+"I haven't the right to be offended by that beastly remark, Percy," she
+said quietly; "and yet I don't think you ought to have said it to me."
+
+"It was meant only to remind you that it won't be necessary for you to
+fall desperately, horribly in love with me," he explained, and was
+suddenly conscious of being very uncomfortable for the first time in his
+life. He did not like the expression in her eyes.
+
+Her shoulders drooped a little. "It isn't very comforting to feel that any
+one of my would-be husbands could be satisfied to get along without being
+loved by me. No doubt I shall be asked by others besides you, Percy. I
+hope you do not voice the sentiments of all the rest of them."
+
+"I'm sorry I said it," he said, and seemed a little bewildered immediately
+afterwards. He really couldn't make himself out. He went away a few
+minutes later, vaguely convinced that perhaps it wouldn't be worth while
+to ask her, after all. This was a new, strange Anne, and it would hurt to
+be refused by her. He had never thought of it in just that way--before.
+
+"So that is the price they put upon me, is it?" Anne said to herself. She
+was regarding herself rather humbly in the mirror as she pinned on her
+hat. "I am still expected to marry without loving the man who takes me. It
+isn't to be exacted of me. Don't they credit me with a capacity for
+loving? What do they think I am? What do they think my blood is made of,
+and the flesh on my bones? Do they think that because I am beautiful I can
+love no one but myself? Don't they think I'm human? How can any one look
+at me without feeling that I'd rather love than be loved? The poor fools!
+Any woman can be loved. What we all want more than anything else is to
+_love_. And I love--I _do_ love! And I _am_ beloved. And all the rest of my
+life I shall love; I shall gloat over the fact that I love; I shall love,
+love, _love_ with all that there is in me, all that there is in my body
+and my soul. The poor fools."
+
+And all that was in her body and her soul was prepared to give itself to
+the man who loved her. She wanted him to have her for his own. She pitied
+him even more than she pitied herself.
+
+Anne had no illusions concerning herself. Mawkish sentimentality had no
+place in her character. She was straightforward and above board with
+herself, and she would not cheapen herself in her own eyes. Another woman
+might have gone down on her knees, whimpering a cry for forgiveness, but
+not Anne Tresslyn. She would ask him to forgive her but she would not lie
+to herself by prostrating her body at his feet. There was firm, noble
+stuff in Anne Tresslyn. It was born in her to know that the woman who goes
+down on her knees before her man never quite rises to her full height
+again. She will always be in the position of wondering whether she stayed
+on her knees long enough to please him. The thought had never entered
+Anne's head to look anywhere but straight into Braden's eyes. She was not
+afraid to have him see that she was honest! He could see that she had no
+lies to tell him. And she was as sorry for him as she was for herself....
+
+She saw him often during the days of Lutie's convalescence, but never
+alone. There was considerable comfort for her in the thought that he made
+a distinct point of not being alone with her. One day she said to him:
+
+"I have my car outside, Braden. Shall I run you over to St. Luke's?"
+
+It was a test. She knew that he was going to the hospital, and intended to
+take the elevated down to 110th Street. His smile puzzled her.
+
+"No, thank you." Then, after a moment, he added: "If people saw me driving
+about in a prosperous looking touring-car they'd be justified in thinking
+that my fees are exorbitant, and I should lose more than I'd gain."
+
+She flushed slightly. "By the same argument they might think you were
+picking up germs in the elevated or the subway."
+
+"I shun the subway," he said.
+
+Anne looked straight into his eyes and said--to herself: "I love you." He
+must have sensed the unspoken words, for his eyes hardened.
+
+"Moreover, Anne, I shouldn't think it would be necessary for me to remind
+you that--" he hesitated, for he suddenly realised that he was about to
+hurt her, and it was not what he wanted to do--"that there are other and
+better reasons why--"
+
+He stopped there, and never completed the sentence. She was still looking
+into his eyes and was still saying to herself: "I love you." It was as if
+a gentle current of electricity played upon every nerve in his body. He
+quivered under the touch of something sweet and mysterious. Exaltation was
+his response to the magnetic wave that carried her unspoken words into his
+heart. She had not uttered a sound and yet he heard the words. How many
+times had she cried those delicious words into his ear while he held her
+close in his arms? How many times had she looked at him like this while
+actually speaking the words aloud in answer to his appeal?
+
+They were standing but a few feet apart. He could take a step forward and
+she would be in his arms,--that glorious, adorable, ineffably feminine
+creation,--in his arms,--in his arms,--
+
+It was she who broke the spell. Her voice sounded far off--and exhausted,
+as if it came from her lips without breath behind it.
+
+"It will always be just the same, Braden," she said, and he knew that it
+was an acknowledgment of his unfinished reminder. She was promising him
+something.
+
+He took a firm grip on himself. "I'm glad that you see things as they are,
+Anne. Now, I must be off. Thanks just the same for--"
+
+"Oh, don't mention it," she said carelessly. "I'm glad that you see things
+too as they are, Braden." She held out her hand. There was no restraint in
+her manner. "I'm sorry, Braden. Things might have been so different. I'm
+sorry."
+
+"Good God!" he burst out. "If you had only been--" He broke off, resolutely
+compressing his lips. His jaw was set again in the strong old way that she
+knew so well.
+
+She nodded her head slowly. "If I had only been some one else instead of
+myself," she said, "it would not have happened."
+
+He turned toward the door, stopped short and then turned to face her.
+There was a strange expression in his grey eyes, not unlike diffidence.
+
+"Percy told me last night that you have refused to marry him. I'm glad
+that you did that, Anne. I want you to know that I am glad, that I
+felt--oh, I cannot tell you how I felt when he told me."
+
+She eyed him closely for a moment. "You thought that I--I might have
+accepted him. Is that it?"
+
+"I--I hadn't thought of it at all," he said, confusedly.
+
+"Well," she said, and a slight pallor began to reveal itself in her face,
+"I tried marrying for money once, Braden. The next time I shall try
+marrying for love."
+
+He stared. "You don't mince words, do you?" he said, frowning.
+
+"No," she said. "Percy will tell you that, I fancy," she added, and
+smiled. "He can't understand my not marrying him. He will be worth fifteen
+or twenty millions, you know." The irony in her voice was directed
+inwardly, not outwardly. "Perhaps it would be safer for him to wait before
+taking too much for granted. You see, I haven't actually refused him. I
+merely refused to give him an option. He--"
+
+"Oh, Anne, don't jest about--" he began, and then as her eyes fell suddenly
+under his gaze and her lip trembled ever so slightly,--"By Jove, I--I
+sha'n't misjudge you in that way again. Good-bye." This time he held out
+his hand to her.
+
+She shook her head. "I've changed my mind. I'm never going to say good-bye
+to you again."
+
+"Never say good-bye? Why, that's--"
+
+"Why should I say good-bye to you when you are always with me?" she broke
+in. Noting the expression in his eyes she went on ruthlessly,
+breathlessly. "Do you think I ought to be ashamed to say such a thing to
+you? Well, I'm not. It doesn't hurt my pride to say it. Not in the least."
+She paused for an instant and then went on boldly. "I fancy I am more
+honest with myself than you are with yourself, Braden."
+
+He looked steadily into her eyes. "You are wrong there," he said quietly.
+Then bluntly: "By God, Anne, if it were not for the one terrible thing
+that lies between us, I could--I could--"
+
+"Go on," she said, her heart standing still. "You can at least _say_ it to
+me. I don't ask for anything more."
+
+"But why say it?" he cried out bitterly. "Will it help matters in the
+least for me to confess that I am weak and--"
+
+She laughed aloud, unable to resist the nervous excitement that thrilled
+her. "Weak? You weak? Look back and see if you can find a single thing to
+prove that you are weak. You needn't be afraid. You are strong enough to
+keep me in my place. You cannot put yourself in jeopardy by completing
+what you started out to say. 'If it were not for the one terrible thing
+that lies between us, I could--I could--' Well, what could you do? Overlook
+my treachery? Forget that I did an even more terrible thing than you did?
+Forgive me and take me back and trust me all over again? Is that what
+you would have said to me?"
+
+"That is what I might have said," he admitted, almost savagely, "if I had
+not come to my senses in time."
+
+Her eyes softened. The love-light glowed in their depths. "I am not as I
+was two years ago, Braden," she said. "I'd like you to know that, at
+least."
+
+"I dare say that is quite true," he said harshly. "You got what you went
+after and now that you've got it you can very comfortably repent."
+
+She winced. "I am not repenting."
+
+"Would you be willing to give up all that you gained out of that
+transaction and go back to where my grandfather found you?" he demanded?
+
+"Do you expect me to lie to you?" she asked with startling candour.
+
+"No. I know you will not lie."
+
+"Would it please you to have me say that I would willingly give up all
+that I gained?"
+
+"I see what you mean. It would be a lie."
+
+"Would it please you to have me give it all up?" she insisted.
+
+He was thoughtful. "No," he said candidly. "You earned it, you are
+entitled to it. It is filthy, dirty money, but you earned it. You do not
+deny that it was your price. That's the long and the short of it."
+
+"Will you let me confess something to you? Something that will make it all
+seem more despicable than before?"
+
+"Good Lord, I don't see how that can be possible!"
+
+"I did not expect to lose you, Braden, when I married Mr. Thorpe. I
+counted on you in the end. I was so sure of myself,--and of you. Wait! Let
+me finish. If I had dreamed that I was to lose you, I should not have
+married Mr. Thorpe. That makes it worse, doesn't it?" There was a note of
+appeal in her voice.
+
+"Yes, yes,--it makes it worse," he groaned.
+
+"I was young and--over-confident," she murmured. "I looked ahead to the day
+when I should be free again and you would be added to the--well, the gains.
+Now you know the whole truth about me. I was counting on you, looking
+forward to you, even as I stood beside him and took the vows. You were
+always uppermost in my calculations. I never left you out of them. Even to
+this day, to this very moment, I continue to count on you. I shall never
+be able to put the hope out of my mind. I have tried it and failed. You
+may despise me if you will, but nothing can kill this mean little thing
+that lurks in here. I don't know what you will call it, Braden, but I call
+it loyalty to you."
+
+"Loyalty! My God!" he cried out hoarsely.
+
+"Yes, loyalty," she cried. "Mean as I am, mean as I have been, I have
+never wavered an instant in my love for you. Oh, I'm not pleading for
+anything. I'm not begging. I don't ask for anything,--not even your good
+opinion. I am only telling you the truth. Mr. Thorpe knew it all. He knew
+that I loved you, and he knew that I counted on having you after he was
+out of the way. And here is something else that you never knew, or
+suspected. He believed that my love for you, my eagerness, my longing to
+be free to call you back again, would be the means of releasing him from
+the thing that was killing him. He counted on me to--I will put it as
+gently as I can--to free myself. I believe in my soul that he married me
+with that awful idea in his mind."
+
+For a long time they were silent. Braden was staring at her, horror in his
+eyes. She remained standing before him, motionless. Lutie's nurse passed
+through the little hall outside, but they did not see or hear her. A door
+closed softly; the faint crying of the baby went unheard.
+
+"You are wrong there," he said at last, thickly. "I happen to know what
+his motives were, Anne."
+
+"Oh, I know," she said wearily. "To prove to you how utterly worthless I
+am,--or was. Well, it may have been that. I hope it was. I would like to
+think it of him instead of the other thing. I would like to think of him
+as sacrificing himself for your sake, instead of planning to sacrifice me
+for his sake. It is a terrible thought, Braden. He begged me to give him
+those tablets, time and again. I--I couldn't have done that, not even with
+you as the prize." She shuddered.
+
+A queer, indescribable chill ran through his veins. "Do you--have you ever
+thought that he may have held you out as a prize--for me?"
+
+"You mean?" She went very white. "God above us, no! If I thought _that_,
+Braden, then there would be something lying between us, something that
+even such as I could not overcome."
+
+"Just the same," he went on grimly, "he went to his death with a word of
+praise on his lips for you, Anne. He told me you were deserving of
+something better than the fate he had provided for you. He was sorry.
+It--it may have been that he was pleading your cause, that--"
+
+"I would like to think that of him," she cried eagerly, "even though his
+praise fell upon deaf ears."
+
+She turned away from him and sank wearily into a chair. For a minute or
+two he stood there regarding her in silence. He was sorry for her. It had
+taken a good deal of courage to humble herself in his eyes, as she had
+done by her frank avowal.
+
+"Is it any satisfaction to your pride, Anne," he said slowly, after
+deliberate thought, "to know that I love you and always will love you, in
+spite of everything?"
+
+Her answer was a long time in coming, and it surprised him when it did
+come.
+
+"If I had any pride left I should hate you for humbling it in that manner,
+Braden," she said, little red spots appearing on her cheeks. "I am not
+asking for your pity."
+
+"I did not mean to--" he cried impulsively. For an instant he threw all
+restraint aside. The craving mastered him. He sprang forward.
+
+She closed her eyes quickly, and held her breath.
+
+He was almost at her side when he stopped short. Then she heard the rush
+of his feet and, the next instant, the banging of the hall door. He was
+gone! She opened her eyes slowly, and stared dully, hazily before her. For
+a long time she sat as one unconscious. The shock of realisation left her
+without the strength or the desire to move. Comprehension was slow in
+coming to her in the shock of disappointment. She could not realise that
+she was not in his arms. He had leaped forward to clasp her, she had felt
+his outstretched arms encircling her,--it was hard to believe that she sat
+there alone and that the ecstasy was not real.
+
+Tears filled her eyes. She did not attempt to wipe them away. She could
+only stare, unblinking, at the closed door. Sobs were in her throat; she
+was first cold, then hot as with a fever.
+
+Slowly her breath began to come again, and with it the sobs. Her body
+relaxed, she closed her eyes again and let her head fall back against the
+chair, and for many minutes she remained motionless, still with the
+weakness of one who has passed through a great crisis.... Long
+afterward,--she did not know how long it was,--she laid her arms upon the
+window-sill at her side and buried her face on them. The sobs died away
+and the tears ceased flowing. Then she raised her eyes and stared down
+into the hot, crowded street far below. She looked upon sordid, cheap,
+ugly things down there, and she had been looking at paradise such a little
+while ago.
+
+Suddenly she sprang to her feet. Her tall, glorious figure was extended to
+its full height, and her face was transformed with the light of
+exaltation.
+
+A key grated noisily in the hall door. The next instant it swung violently
+open and her brother George strode in upon her,--big, clear-eyed, happy-
+faced and eager.
+
+"Hello!" he cried, stopping short. "I popped in early to-day. Matter of
+great importance to talk over with my heir. Wait a second, Anne. I'll be
+back--I say, what's the matter? You look posi-_tive_-ly as if you were on
+the point of bursting into grand opera. Going to sing?"
+
+"I'm singing all over, Georgie,--all over, inside and out," she cried
+joyously.
+
+"Gee whiz!" he gasped. "Has the baby begun to talk?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+She did not meet him again at Lutie's. Purposely, and with a cunning
+somewhat foreign to her sex, she took good care that he should not be
+there when she made her daily visits. She made it an object to telephone
+every day, ostensibly to inquire about Lutie's condition, and she never
+failed to ask what the doctor had said. In that way she knew that he had
+made his visit and had left the apartment. She would then drive up into
+Harlem and sit happily with her sister-in-law and the baby, whom she
+adored with a fervour that surprised not only herself but the mother,
+whose ideas concerning Anne were undergoing a rapid and enduring
+reformation.
+
+She was shocked and not a little disillusioned one day, however, when
+Lutie, now able to sit up and chatter to her heart's content, remarked,
+with a puzzled frown on her pretty brow:
+
+"Dr. Braden must be terribly rushed with work nowadays, Anne. For the last
+week he has been coming here at the most unearthly hour in the morning,
+and dashing away like a shot just as soon as he can. Good gracious, we're
+hardly awake when he gets here. Never later than eight o'clock."
+
+Anne's temple came down in a heap. He wasn't playing the game at all as
+she had expected. He was avoiding _her_. She was dismayed for an instant,
+and then laughed outright quite frankly at her own disenchantment.
+
+Lutie looked at her with deep affection in her eyes. "You ought to have a
+little baby of your own, Anne," she said.
+
+"It's much nicer having yours," said Anne. "He's such a fat one."
+
+Two weeks later they were all up in the country, and George was saying
+twice a day at least that Anne was the surprise and comfort of his old
+age. She was as gay as a lark. She sang,--but not grand opera selections.
+Her days were devoted to the cheerful occupation of teaching young
+Carnahan how to smile and how to count his toes.
+
+But in the dark hours of the night she was not so serene. Then was her
+time for reflection, for wonder, for speculation. Was life to be always
+like this? Were her days to be merry and confident, and her nights as full
+of loneliness and doubt? Was her craving never to be satisfied? Sometimes
+when George and Lutie went off to bed and left her sitting alone on the
+dark, screened-in veranda, looking down from the hills across the sombre
+Hudson, she almost cried aloud in her desolation. Of what profit was love
+to her? Was she always to go on being alone with the love that consumed
+her?
+
+The hot, dry summer wore away. She steadfastly refused to go to the cool
+seashore, she declined the countless invitations that came to her, and she
+went but seldom into the city. Her mother was at Newport. They had had one
+brief, significant encounter just before the elder woman went off to the
+seashore. No doubt her mother considered herself entitled to a fair share
+of "the spoils," but she would make no further advances. She had failed
+earlier in the game; she would not humble herself again. And so, one hot
+day in August, just before going to the country, Anne went up to her old
+home, determined to have it out with her mother.
+
+"Why are you staying in town through all of this heat, mother dear?" she
+asked. Her mother was looking tired and listless. She was showing her age,
+and that was the one thing that Anne could not look upon with complacency.
+
+"I can't afford to go junketing about this year," said her mother, simply.
+"This awful war has upset--"
+
+"The war hasn't had time to upset anything over here, mother. It's only
+been going on a couple of weeks. You ought to go away, dearest, for a good
+long snooze in the country. You'll be as young as a debutante by the time
+the season sets in."
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn smiled aridly. "Am I beginning to show my age so much as all
+this, Anne?" she lamented. "I'm just a little over fifty. That isn't old
+in these days, my dear."
+
+"You look worried, not old," said her daughter, sympathetically. "Is it
+money?"
+
+"It's always money," admitted Mrs. Tresslyn. "I may as well make up my
+mind to retrench, to live a little more simply. You would think that I
+should be really quite well-to-do nowadays, having successfully gotten rid
+of my principal items of expense. But I will be quite frank with you,
+Anne. I am still trying to pay off obligations incurred before I lost my
+excellent son and daughter. You were luxuries, both of you, my dear."
+
+Anne was shocked. "Do you mean to say that you are still paying off--still
+paying up for _us_? Good heavens, mamma! Why, we couldn't have got you
+into debt to that--"
+
+"Don't jump to conclusions, my dear," her mother interrupted. "The debts
+were not all due to you and George. I had a few of my own. What I mean to
+say is that, combining all of them, they form quite a handsome amount."
+
+"Tell me," said Anne determinedly, "tell me just how much of it should be
+charged up to George and me."
+
+"I haven't the remotest idea. You see, I was above keeping books. What are
+you trying to get at? A way to square up with me? Well, my dear, you can't
+do that, you know. You don't owe me anything. Whatever I spent on you, I
+spent cheerfully, gladly, and without an idea of ever receiving a penny in
+the shape of recompense. That's the way with a mother, Anne. No matter
+what she may do for her children, no matter how much she may sacrifice for
+them, she does it without a single thought for herself. That is the best
+part of being a mother. A wife may demand returns from her husband, but a
+mother never thinks of asking anything of her children. I am sure that
+even worse mothers than I will tell you the same. We never ask for
+anything in return but a little selfish pleasure in knowing that we have
+borne children that are invariably better than the children that any other
+mother may have brought into the world. No, you owe me nothing, Anne. Put
+it out of your mind."
+
+Anne listened in amazement. "But if you are hard-up, mother dear, and on
+account of the money you were obliged to spend on us--because we were both
+spoiled and selfish--why, it is only right and just that your children, if
+they can afford to do so, should be allowed to turn the tables on you. It
+shouldn't be so one-sided, this little selfish pleasure that you mention.
+I am rich. I have a great deal more than I need. I have nearly a hundred
+thousand a year. You--"
+
+"Has any one warned you not to talk too freely about it in these days of
+income tax collectors?" broke in her mother, with a faint smile.
+
+"Pooh! Simmy attends to that for me. I don't understand a thing about it.
+Now, see here, mother, I insist that it is my right,--not my duty, but my
+right--to help you out of the hole. You would do it for me. You've done it
+for George, time and again. How much do you need?"
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn regarded her daughter thoughtfully. "Back of all this, I
+suppose, is the thought that it was I who made a rich girl of you. You
+feel that it is only right that you should share the spoils with your
+partner, not with your mother."
+
+"Once and for all, mother, let me remind you that I do not blame you for
+making a rich woman of me. I did not have to do it, you know. I am not the
+sort that can be driven or coerced. I made my own calculations and I took
+my own chances. You were my support but not my _commander_. The super-
+virtuous girls you read about in books are always blaming their mothers
+for such marriages as mine, and so do the comic papers. It's all bosh.
+Youth abhors old age. It loves itself too well. But we needn't discuss
+responsibilities. The point is this: I have more money than I know what to
+do with, so I want to help you out. It isn't because I think it is my
+duty, or that I owe it to you, but because I love you, mother. If you had
+forced me into marrying Mr. Thorpe, I should hate you now. But I don't,--I
+love you dearly. I want you to let me love you. You are so hard to get
+close to,--so hard to--"
+
+"My dear, my dear," cried her mother, coming up to her and laying her
+hands on the tall girl's shoulders, "you have paid me in full now. What
+you have just said pays off all the debts. I was afraid that my children
+hated me."
+
+"You poor old dear!" cried Anne, her eyes shining. "If you will only let
+me show you how much I can love you. We are pretty much alike, mother, you
+and I. We--"
+
+"No!" cried out the other fiercely. "I do not want you to say that. I do
+not want you to be like me. Never say that to me again. I want you to be
+happy, and you will never be happy if you are like me."
+
+"Piffle!" said Anne, and kissed her mother soundly. And she knew then, as
+she had always known, that her mother was not and never could be a happy
+woman. Even in her affection for her own children she was the spirit of
+selfishness. She loved them for what they meant to her and not for
+themselves. She was consistent. She knew herself better than any one else
+knew her.
+
+"Now, tell me how much you need," went on Anne, eagerly. "I've hated to
+broach the subject to you. It didn't seem right that I should. But I don't
+care now. I want to do all that I can."
+
+"I will not offend you, or insult you, Anne, by saying that you are a good
+girl,--a better one than I thought you would ever be. You can't help me,
+however. Don't worry about me. I shall get on, thank you."
+
+"Just the same, I insist on paying your bills, and setting you straight
+once more for another fling. And you are going to Newport this week. Come,
+now, mother dear, let's get it over with. Tell me about _everything_. You
+may hop into debt again just as soon as you like, but I'll feel a good
+deal better if I know that it isn't on my account. It isn't right that you
+should still have George and me hanging about your neck like millstones.
+Come! I insist. Let's figure it all up."
+
+An hour afterward, she said to her mother: "I'll make out one check to you
+covering everything, mother. It will look better if you pay them yourself.
+Thirty-seven thousand four hundred and twelve dollars. That's everything,
+is it,--you're sure?"
+
+"Everything," said Mrs. Tresslyn, settling back in her chair. "I will not
+attempt to thank you, Anne. You see, I didn't thank Lutie when she threw
+her money in my face, for somehow I knew that I'd give it all back to her
+again. Well, you may have to wait longer than she did, my dear, but this
+will all come back to you. I sha'n't live forever, you know."
+
+Anne kissed her. "You are a wonder, mother dear. You wouldn't come off of
+your high-horse for anything, would you? By Jove, that's what I like most
+in you. You never knuckle."
+
+"My dear, you are picking up a lot of expressions from Lutie."
+
+The early evenings at Anne's place in the country were spent solely in
+discussions of the great war. There was no other topic. The whole of the
+civilised world was talking of the stupendous conflict that had burst upon
+it like a crash out of a clear sky. George came home loaded down with the
+latest extras and all of the regular editions of the afternoon papers.
+
+"By gemini," he was in the habit of saying, "it's a lucky thing for those
+Germans that Lutie got me to reenlist with her a year ago. I'd be on my
+way over there by this time, looking for real work. Gee, Anne, that's one
+thing I could do as well as anybody. I'm big enough to stop a lot of
+bullets. We'll never see another scrap like this. It's just my luck to be
+happily married when it bursts out, too."
+
+"I am sure you would have gone," said Lutie serenely. "I'm glad I captured
+you in time. It saves the Germans an awful lot of work."
+
+The smashing of Belgium, the dash of the great German army toward Paris,
+the threatened disaster to the gay capital, the sickening conviction that
+nothing could check the tide of guns and men,--all these things bore down
+upon them with a weight that seemed unbearable. And then came the battle
+of the Marne! Von Kluck's name was on the lips of every man, woman and
+child in the United States of America. Would they crush him? Was Paris
+safe? What was the matter with England? And then, the personal element
+came into the situation for Anne and her kind: the names of the officers
+who had fallen, snuffed out in Belgium and France. Nearly every day
+brought out the name of some one she had known, a few of them quite well.
+There were the gallant young Belgians who had come over for the horse-
+shows, and the polo-players she had known in England, and the gay young
+noblemen,--their names brought the war nearer home and sickened her.
+
+As time went on the horrors of the great conflict were deprived, through
+incessant repetition, of the force to shock a world now accustomed to the
+daily slaughter of thousands. Humanity had got used to war. War was no
+longer a novelty. People read of great battles in which unprecedented
+numbers of men were slain, and wondered how much of truth was in the
+reports. War no longer horrified the distant on-looker. The sufferings of
+the Belgians were of greater interest to the people of America than the
+sufferings of the poor devils in the trenches or on the battle lines. A
+vast wave of sympathy was sweeping the land and purses were touched as
+never before. War was on parade. The world turned out en masse to see the
+spectacle. The heart of every good American was touched by what he saw,
+and the hand of every man was held out to stricken Belgium, nor was any
+hand empty. Belgium presented the grewsome spectacle, and the world paid
+well for the view it was having.
+
+It was late in November when Anne and the others came down to the city,
+and by that time the full strength of the movement to help the sufferers
+had been reached. People were fighting for the Belgians, but with their
+hearts instead of their hands. The stupendous wave of sympathy was at its
+height. It rolled across the land and then across the sea. People were
+swept along by its mighty rush. Anne Thorpe was caught up in the maelstrom
+of human energy.
+
+Something fine in her nature, however, caused Anne to shrink from public
+benefactions. She realised that a world that was charitable to the
+Belgians was not so apt to be charitable toward her. While she did not
+contribute anonymously to the fund, she let it be distinctly understood
+that her name was not to be published in any of the lists of donors,
+except in a single instance when she gave a thousand-dollars. That much,
+at least, would be expected of her and she took some comfort in the belief
+that the world would not charge her with self-exploitation on the money
+she had received from Templeton Thorpe. Other gifts and contributions were
+never mentioned in the press by the committees in charge. She gave
+liberally, not only to the sufferers on the other side of the Atlantic but
+to the poor of New York, and she steadfastly declined to serve on any of
+the relief committees.
+
+Never until now had she appreciated how thin-skinned she was. It is not to
+be inferred that she shut herself up and affected a life of seclusion. As
+a matter of fact, she went out a great deal, but invariably among friends
+and to small, intimate affairs.
+
+Not once in the months that followed the scene in Lutie's sitting-room did
+she encounter Braden Thorpe. She heard of him frequently. He was very
+busy. He went nowhere except where duty called. There was not a moment in
+her days, however, when her thoughts were not for him. Her eyes were
+always searching the throngs on Fifth Avenue in quest of his figure; in
+restaurants she looked eagerly over the crowded tables in the hope that
+she might see actually the face that was always before her, night and day.
+Be it said to her credit, she resolutely abstained from carrying her quest
+into quarters where she might be certain of seeing him, of meeting him, of
+receiving recognition from him. She avoided the neighbourhood in which his
+offices were located, she shunned the streets which he would most
+certainly traverse. While she longed for him, craved him with all the
+hunger of a starved soul, she was content to wait. He loved her. She
+thrived on the joy of knowing this to be true. He might never come to her,
+but she knew that it would never be possible for her to go to him unless
+he called her to him.
+
+Then, one day in early January, she crumpled up under the shock of seeing
+his name in the headlines of her morning newspaper.
+
+He was going to the front!
+
+For a moment she was blind. The page resolved itself into a thick mass of
+black. She was in bed when the paper was brought to her with her coffee.
+She had been lying there sweetly thinking of him. Up to the instant her
+eyes fell upon the desolating headline she had been warm and snug and
+tingling with life just aroused. And then she was as cold as ice,
+stupefied. It was a long time before she was able to convince herself that
+the type was really telling her something that she would have to believe.
+He was going to the war!
+
+Thorpe was one of a half-dozen American surgeons who were going over on
+the steamer sailing that day to give their services to the French. The
+newspaper spoke of him in glowing terms. His name stood out above all the
+others, for he was the one most notably in the public eye at the moment.
+The others, just as brave and self-sacrificing as he, were briefly
+mentioned and that was all. He alone was in the headlines, he alone was
+discussed. No one was to be allowed to forget that he was the clever young
+surgeon who had saved the great Marraville. The account dwelt upon the
+grave personal sacrifice he was making in leaving New York just as the
+world was beginning to recognise his great genius and ability. Prosperity
+was knocking at his door, fame was holding out its hand to him, and yet he
+was casting aside all thought of self-aggrandisement, all personal
+ambition in order to go forth and serve humanity in fields where his name
+would never be mentioned except in a cry for help from strong men who had
+known no fear.
+
+Sailing that day! Anne finally grasped the meaning of the words. She would
+not see him again. He would go away without a word to her, without giving
+her the chance to say good-bye, despite her silly statement that she would
+never utter the words again where he was concerned.
+
+Slowly the warm glow returned to her blood. Her brain cleared, and she was
+able to think, to grasp at the probable significance of his action in
+deserting New York and his coveted opportunities. Something whispered to
+her that he was going away because of his own sufferings and not those of
+the poor wretches at the front. Her heart swelled with pity. There was no
+triumph in the thought that he was running away because of his love for
+her. She needed no such proof as this to convince her that his heart was
+more loyal to her than his mind would have it be. She cried a little ...
+and then got up and called for a messenger boy.
+
+This brief message went down to the ship:
+
+"God be with you. I still do not say good-bye, just God be with you
+always, as I shall be. Anne."
+
+She did not leave the hotel until long after the ship had sailed. He did
+not telephone. There were a dozen calls on the wire that morning, but she
+had her maid take the messages. There was always the fear that he might
+try to reach her while some one of her idle friends was engaged in making
+a protracted visit with her over the wire. About one o'clock Simmy Dodge
+called up to ask if he could run in and have luncheon with her.
+
+"I've got a message for you," he said.
+
+Her heart began to beat so violently that she was afraid he would hear it
+through the receiver at his ear. She could not trust herself to speak for
+a moment. Evidently he thought she was preparing to put him off with some
+polite excuse. Simmy was, as ever, considerate. He made haste to spare her
+the necessity for fibbing. "I can drop in late this afternoon--"
+
+"No," she cried out, "come now, Simmy. I shall expect you. Where are you?"
+
+He coughed in some embarrassment. "I'm--well, you see, I was going past so
+I thought I'd stop in and--What? Yes, I'm downstairs."
+
+She joined him in the palm room a few minutes later, and they went in to
+luncheon. Her colour was high. Simmy thought he had never seen her when
+she looked more beautiful. But he thought that with each succeeding
+glimpse of her.
+
+"'Pon my word, Anne," he said, staring at her across the table, "you
+fairly dazzle me. Forgive me for saying so. I couldn't help it. Perfect
+ass sometimes, you see."
+
+"I forgive you. I like it. What message did Braden send to me?"
+
+He had not expected her to be so frank, so direct. "I don't know. I wish I
+did. The beggar wrote it and sealed it up in this beastly little
+envelope." He handed her the square white envelope with the ship's emblem
+in the corner.
+
+Before looking at the written address, she put her next question to him. A
+good deal depended on his answer. "Do you know when he wrote this note,
+Simmy?"
+
+"Just before they pushed me down the gang-plank," he said. A light broke
+in upon him. "Did you send him a message?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I don't know whether it is the right thing to say, but I can tell
+you this: he wrote this note before reading your letter or telegram or
+whatever it was. He had a score of things like that and he didn't open one
+of 'em until she'd cast off."
+
+She smiled. "Thank you, Simmy. You have said the right thing,--as you
+always do." One glance at the superscription was enough. It was in his
+handwriting. For the first time she saw it in his hand: "Anne Tresslyn
+Thorpe." A queer little shiver ran through her, never to be explained.
+
+Simmy watched her curiously as she slipped the missive, unopened, into her
+gold mesh bag. "Don't mind me," he said. "Read it."
+
+"Not now, Simmy," she said simply. And all through luncheon she thrilled
+with the consciousness that she had something of Braden there with her,
+near her, waiting for her. His own hand had touched this bit of paper; it
+was a part of him. It was so long since she had seen that well-known,
+beloved handwriting,--strong like the man, and sure; she found herself
+counting the ages that had passed since his last love missive had come to
+her.
+
+Simmy was rattling on, rather dolefully, about Braden's plans. He was
+likely to be over there for a long time,--just as long as he was needed or
+able to endure the strain of hard, incessant work in the field hospitals.
+
+"I wanted to go," the little man was saying, and that brought her back to
+earth. "The worst way, Anne. But what could I do? Drive an automobile,
+yes, but what's that? Brady wouldn't hear to it. He said it was nonsense,
+me talking of going over there and getting in people's way. Of course, I'd
+probably faint the first time I saw a mutilated dead body, and that
+_would_ irritate the army. They'd have to stop everything while they gave
+me smelling salts. I suppose I'd get used to seeing 'em dead all over the
+place, just as everybody does,--even the worst of cowards. I'm not a
+coward, Anne. I drive my racing-car at ninety miles, I play polo, I go up
+in Scotty's aeroplane whenever I get a chance, I can refuse to take a
+drink when I think I've had enough, and if that doesn't prove that I've
+got courage I'd like to know what it does prove. But I'm not a fighting
+man. Nobody would ever be afraid of me. There isn't a German on earth who
+would run if he saw me charging toward him. He'd just wait to see what the
+dickens I was up to. Something would tell him that I wouldn't have the
+heart to shoot him, no matter how necessary it might be for me to do so.
+Still I wanted to go. That's what amazes me. I can't understand it."
+
+"I can understand it, you poor old simpleton," cried Anne. "You wanted to
+go because you are _not_ afraid."
+
+"I wish I could think so," said he, really perplexed. "Brady is different.
+He'd be a soldier as is a soldier. He's going over to save men's lives,
+however, and that's something I wouldn't be capable of doing. If I went
+they'd expect me to kill 'em, and that's what I'd hate. Good Lord, Anne, I
+couldn't shoot down a poor German boy that hadn't done a thing to me--or to
+my country, for that matter. If they'd only let me go as a spy, or even a
+messenger boy, I'd jump at the chance. But they'd want me to kill
+people,--and I couldn't do it, that's all."
+
+"Is Braden well? Does he look fit, Simmy? You know there will be great
+hardships, vile weather, exposure--"
+
+"He's thin and--well, I'll be honest with you, he doesn't look as fit as
+might be."
+
+She paled. "Has he been ill?"
+
+"Not in body, but--he's off his feed, Anne. Maybe you know the reason why."
+He looked at her narrowly.
+
+"I have not seen him in months," she said evasively.
+
+"I guess that's the answer," he said, pulling at his little moustache.
+"I'm sorry, Anne. It's too bad--for both of you. Lordy, I never dreamed I
+could be so unselfish. I'm mad in love with you myself and--oh, well!
+That's an old tale, so we'll cut it short. I don't know what I'm going to
+do without Brady. I've got the blues so bad that--why, I cried like a nasty
+little baby down there at the--everybody lookin' at me pityingly and saying
+to themselves 'what a terrible thing grief is when it hits a man like
+that,' and thinkin' of course that I'd lost a whole family in Belgium or
+somewhere--oh, Lordy, what a blithering--"
+
+"Hush!" whispered Anne, her own eyes glistening. "You are an angel, Simmy.
+You--"
+
+"Let's talk sense," he broke in abruptly. "Braden left his business in my
+hands, and his pleasures in the hands of Dr. Cole. He says it's a pleasure
+to heal people, so that's why I put it in that way. I've got his will down
+in our safety vault, and his instructions about that silly foundation--"
+
+"You--you think he may not come back?" she said, gripping her hands under
+the edge of the table.
+
+"You never can tell. Taking precautions, that's all, as any wise man would
+do. Oh, I'm sorry, Anne! I should have known better. Lordy, you're as
+white as--Sure, he'll come back! He isn't going to be in the least danger.
+Not the least. Nobody bothers the doctors, you know. They can go anywhere.
+They wear plug hats and all that sort of thing, and all armies respect a
+plug hat. A plug hat is a _silk_ hat, you know,--the safest hat in the
+world when you're on the firing line. Everybody tries to hit the hat and
+not the occupant. It's a standing army joke. I was reading in the paper
+the other day about a fellow going clear from one end of the line to the
+other and having six hundred and some odd plug hats shot off his head
+without so much as getting a hair singed. Wait! I can tell what you're
+going to ask, and I can't, on such short notice, answer the question. I
+can only say that I don't know where he got the hats. Ah, good! You're
+laughing again, and, by Jove, it becomes you to blush once in a while,
+too. Tell me, old lady,"--he leaned forward and spoke very seriously,--"does
+it mean a great deal to you?"
+
+She nodded her head slowly. "Yes, Simmy, it means everything."
+
+He drew a long breath. "That's just what I thought. One ordinary dose of
+commonsense split up between the two of you wouldn't be a bad thing for
+the case."
+
+"You dear old thing!" cried Anne impulsively.
+
+"How are Lutie and my god-son?" he inquired, with a fine air of
+solicitude.
+
+Half an hour later, Anne read the brief note that Braden had sent to her.
+She read it over and over again, and without the exultation she had
+anticipated. Her heart was too full for exultation.
+
+"Dear Anne," it began, "I am going to the war. I am going because I am a
+coward. The world will call me brave and self-sacrificing, but it will not
+be true. I am a coward. The peril I am running away from is far greater
+than that which awaits me over there. I thought you would like to know.
+The suffering of others may cause me to forget my own at times." He signed
+it "Braden"; and below the signature there was a postscript that puzzled
+her for a long time. "If you are not also a coward you will return to my
+grandfather's house, where you belong."
+
+And when she had solved the meaning of that singular postscript she sent
+for Wade.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+Anne Thorpe had set her heart on an eventuality. She could see nothing
+else, think of nothing else. She prayed each night to God,--and
+devoutly,--not alone for the safe return of her lover, but that God would
+send him home soon! She was conscious of no fear that he might never
+return at all.
+
+To the surprise of every one, with the approach of spring, she announced
+her determination to re-open the old Thorpe residence and take up her
+abode therein. George was the only one who opposed her. He was seriously
+upset by the news.
+
+"Good heaven, Anne, you don't _have_ to live in the house, so why do it?
+It's like a tomb. I get the shivers every time I think about it. You can
+afford to live anywhere you like. It isn't as if you were obliged to think
+of expenses--"
+
+"It seems rather silly _not_ to live in it," she countered. "I will admit
+that at first I couldn't endure the thought of it, but that was when all
+of the horrors were fresh in my mind. Besides, I resented his leaving it
+to me. It was not in the bargain, you know. There was something high-
+handed, too, in the way I was _ordered_ to live in the house. I had the
+uncanny feeling that he was trying to keep me where he could watch--but, of
+course, that was nonsense. There is no reason why I shouldn't live in the
+house, Georgie. It is--"
+
+"There is a blamed good reason why you should never have lived in it," he
+blurted out. "There's no use digging it up, however, so we'll let it stay
+buried." He argued bitterly, even doggedly, but finally gave it up.
+"Well," he said in the end, "if you will, you will. All the King's horses
+and all the King's men can't stop you when you've once made up your mind."
+
+A few days later she called for Lutie in the automobile and they went
+together to the grim old house near Washington Square. Her mind was made
+up, as George had put it. She was going to open the house and have it put
+in order for occupancy as soon as possible.
+
+She had solved the meaning of Braden's postscript. She would have to prove
+to him, first of all, that she was not afraid of the shadow that lay
+inside the walls of that grim old house. "If you are not also a coward you
+will return to my grandfather's house, where you belong." It was, she
+honestly believed, his way of telling her that if she faced the shadow in
+her own house, and put it safely behind her, her fortitude would not go
+unrewarded!
+
+It did not occur to her that she was beginning badly when she delayed
+going down to the house for two whole days because Lutie was unable to
+accompany her.
+
+The windows and doors were boarded up. There was no sign of life about the
+place when they got down from the limousine and mounted the steps at the
+heels of the footman who had run on ahead to ring the bell. They waited
+for the opening of the inner door and the shooting of the bolts in the
+storm-doors, but no sound came to their ears. Again the bell jangled,--how
+well she remembered the old-fashioned bell at the end of the hall!--and
+still no response from within.
+
+The two women looked at each other oddly. "Try the basement door," said
+Anne to the man. They stood at the top of the steps while the footman
+tried the iron gate that barred the way to the tradesmen's door. It was
+pad-locked.
+
+"I asked Simmy to meet us here at eleven," said Anne nervously. "I expect
+it will cost a good deal to do the house over as I want--Doesn't any one
+answer, Peters?"
+
+"No, ma'am. Maybe he's out."
+
+Lutie's face blanched suddenly. "My goodness, Anne, what if--what if he's
+dead in--"
+
+"Oh, for heaven's sake, Lutie," cried Anne impatiently, "don't go to
+imagining--Still it's very odd. Pound on the door, Peters,--hard."
+
+She shivered a little and turned away so that Lutie could not see the
+expression in her eyes. "I have had no word from him in nearly two weeks.
+He calls up once every fortnight to inquire--You are not pounding hard
+enough, Peters."
+
+"Let's go away," said Lutie, starting down the steps.
+
+"No," said Anne resolutely, "we must get in somehow. He may be ill. He is
+an old man. He may be lying in there praying for help, dying for lack of--"
+Then she called out to the chauffeur. "See if you can find a policeman. We
+may have to break the door down. You see, Lutie, if he's in there I must
+get to him. We may not be too late."
+
+Lutie rejoined her at the top of the steps. "You're right, Anne. I don't
+know what possessed me. But, goodness, I _hope_ it's nothing--" She
+shuddered. "He may have been dead for days."
+
+"What a horrible thing it would be if--But it doesn't matter, Lutie; I am
+going in. If you are nervous or afraid of seeing something unpleasant,
+don't come with me. Wade must be nearly seventy. He may have fallen
+or--Look! Why,--can _that_ be him coming up the--" She was staring down the
+street toward Sixth Avenue. A great breath of relief escaped her lips as
+she clutched her companion's arm and pointed.
+
+Wade was approaching. He was still half way down the long block, and only
+an eye that knew him well could have identified him. Even at closer range
+one might have mistaken him for some one else.
+
+He was walking rather briskly,--in fact, he was strutting. It was not his
+gait, however, that called for remark. While he was rigidly upright and
+steady as to progress, his sartorial condition was positively staggering.
+He wore a high, shiny silk hat. It was set at just the wee bit of an angle
+and quite well back on his head. Descending his frame, the eye took in a
+costly fur-lined overcoat with a sable collar, properly creased trousers
+with a perceptible stripe, grey spats and unusually glistening shoes that
+could not by any chance have been of anything but patent leather. Light
+tan gloves, a limber walking stick, a white carnation and a bright red
+necktie--there you have all that was visible of him. Even at a great
+distance you would have observed that he was freshly shaved.
+
+Suddenly his eye fell upon the automobile and then took in the smart
+looking visitors above. His pace slackened abruptly. After a moment of
+what appeared to be indecision, he came on, rather hurriedly. There had
+been a second or two of suspense in which Anne had the notion that the
+extraordinary creature was on the point of darting into a basement door,
+as if, unlike the peacock, he was ashamed of his plumage.
+
+He came up to them, removing his high hat with an awkwardness that
+betrayed him. His employer was staring at him with undisguised amazement.
+"I just stepped out for a moment, Mrs. Thorpe, to post a letter," said
+Wade, trying his best not to sink back into servility, and quite miserably
+failing. He was fumbling for his keys. The tops of the houses across the
+street appeared to interest him greatly. His gaze was fixed rather
+intently upon them. "Very sorry, Mrs. Thorpe,--dreadfully sorry. Ahem! Good
+morning. I hope you have not been waiting long. I--ah, here we are!" He
+found the key in the pocket of his fancy waistcoat, and bolted down the
+steps to unlock the gate. "Excuse me, please. I will run in this way and
+open the door from the--"
+
+"Wade," cried out Mrs. Thorpe, "is it really you?"
+
+He looked astonished--and a trifle hurt. "Who else could I be, Mrs.
+Thorpe?" Then he darted through the gate and a moment later the servants'
+door opened and closed behind him.
+
+"I must be dreaming," said Anne. "What in the world has come over the
+man?"
+
+Lutie closed one eye slowly. "There is only one thing under heaven that
+could make a man rig himself out like that,--and that thing is a woman."
+
+"A woman? Don't be foolish, Lutie. Wade couldn't even _think_ of a woman.
+He's nearly seventy."
+
+"They think of 'em until they drop, my dear," said Lutie sagely. "That's
+one thing we've got to give them credit for. They keep on thinking about
+us even while they're trying to keep the other foot out of the grave. You
+are going to lose the amiable Wade, Anne dear. He's not wearing spats for
+nothing."
+
+Some time passed before the key turned in the inner door, and there was
+still a long wait before the bolts in the storm doors shot back and Wade's
+face appeared. He had not had the time to remove the necktie and spats,
+but the rest of his finery had been replaced by the humble togs of
+service--long service, you would say at a glance.
+
+"Sorry to keep you waiting, ma'am, but--" He held the doors open and the
+two ladies entered the stuffy, unlighted hall.
+
+"Turn on the lights, please," said Anne quickly. Wade pushed a button and
+the lights were on. She surveyed him curiously. "Why did you take them
+off, Wade? You looked rather well in them."
+
+He cleared his throat gently, and the shy, set smile reappeared as if by
+magic. "It isn't necessary for me to say that I was not expecting you this
+morning."
+
+"Quite obviously you were not," said Anne drily. She continued to regard
+him somewhat fixedly. Something in his expression puzzled her. "Mr. Dodge
+will be here presently. I am making arrangements to open the house."
+
+He started. "Er--not to--er--live in it yourself, of course. I was sure Mr.
+Dodge would find a way to get around the will so that you could let the
+house--"
+
+"I expect to live here myself, Wade," said she. After a moment, she went
+on: "Will you care to stay on?"
+
+He was suddenly confused. "I--I can't give you an answer just at this
+moment, Mrs. Thorpe. It may be a few days before I--" He paused.
+
+"Take all the time you like, Wade," she interrupted.
+
+"I fancy I'd better give notice now, ma'am," he said after a moment. "To-
+day will do as well as any day for that." He seemed to straighten out his
+figure as he spoke, resuming a little of the unsuspected dignity that had
+accompanied the silk hat and the fur-lined coat.
+
+"I'm sorry," said Anne,--who was not in the slightest sense sorry. Wade
+sometimes gave her the creeps.
+
+"I should like to explain about the--ah--the garments you saw me
+wearing--ah--I mean to say, I should have brought myself to the point of
+telling you a little later on, in any event, but now that you have caught
+me wearing of them, I dare say this is as good a time as any to get it
+over with. First of all, Mrs. Thorpe, I must preface my--er--confession by
+announcing that I am quite sure that you have always considered me to be
+an honest man and above deception and falsehood. Ahem! That _is_ right,
+isn't it?"
+
+"What are you trying to get at, Wade?" she cried in surprise. "You cannot
+imagine that I suspect you of--anything wrong?"
+
+"It may be wrong, and it may not be. I have never felt quite right about
+it. There have been times when I felt real squeamish--and a bit
+underhanded, you might say. On the other hand, I submit that it was not
+altogether reprehensible on my part to air them occasionally--and to see
+that the moths didn't--"
+
+"Air them? For goodness' sake, Wade, speak plainly. Why shouldn't you air
+your own clothes? They are very nice looking and they must have cost you a
+pretty penny. Dear me, I have no right to say what you shall wear on the
+street or--"
+
+Wade's eyes grew a little wider. "Is it possible, madam, that you failed
+to recognise the--er--garments?"
+
+She laid her hand upon Lutie's arm, and gripped it convulsively. Her eyes
+were fixed in a fast-growing look of aversion.
+
+"You do not mean that--that they were Mr. Thorpe's?" she said, in a low
+voice.
+
+"I supposed, of course, you would have remembered them," said Wade, a
+trifle sharply. "The overcoat was one that he wore every day when you went
+out for your drive with him, just before he took to his bed. I--"
+
+"Good heaven!" cried Anne, revolted. "You have been wearing his clothes?"
+
+"They were not really what you would call cast-off garments, ma'am," he
+explained in some haste, evidently to save his dignity. "They were rather
+new, you may remember,--that is to say, the coat and vest and trousers. As
+I recall it, the overcoat was several seasons old, and the hat was the
+last one he ordered before taking to the comfortable lounge hat--he always
+had his hats made from his own block, you see,--and as I was about to
+explain, ma'am, it seemed rather a sin to let them hang in the closet,
+food for moths and to collect dust in spite of the many times I brushed
+them. Of course, I should never have presumed to wear them while he was
+still alive, not even after he had abandoned them for good--No, that is a
+thing I have never been guilty of doing. I could not have done it. That is
+just the difference between a man-servant and a woman-servant. Your maid
+frequently went out in your gowns without your knowledge. I am told it is
+quite a common practice. At least I may claim for myself the credit of
+waiting until my employer was dead before venturing to cover my back with
+his--Yes, honest confession is good for the soul, ma'am. These shoes are my
+own, and the necktie. He could not abide red neckties. Of course, I need
+not say that the carnation I wore was quite fresh. The remainder of my
+apparel was once worn by my beloved master. I am not ashamed to confess
+it."
+
+"How _could_ you wear the clothes of a--a dead person?" cried Anne,
+cringing as if touched by some cold and slimy thing.
+
+"It seemed such a waste, madam. Of late I have taken to toning myself up a
+bit, and there seemed no sensible reason why I shouldn't make use of Mr.
+Thorpe's clothes,--allow me to explain that I wore only those he had used
+the least,--provided they were of a satisfactory fit. We were of pretty
+much the same size,--you will remember that, I'm sure,--and, they fitted me
+quite nicely. Of course, I should not have taken them away with me when I
+left your employ, madam. That would have been unspeakable. I should have
+restored them to the clothes presses, and you would have found them there
+when I turned over the keys and--"
+
+"Good heavens, man," she cried, "take them away with you when you go--all
+of them. Everything, do you hear? I give them all to you. Of what use
+could they be to me? They are yours. Take everything,--hats, boots,
+linen,--"
+
+"Thank you, ma'am. That is very handsome of you. I wasn't quite sure that
+perhaps Mr. Braden wouldn't find some use for the overcoat. It is a very
+elegant coat. It cost--"
+
+"Wade, you are either very stupid or very insolent," she interrupted
+coldly. "We need not discuss the matter any farther. How soon do you
+expect to leave?"
+
+"I should say that a week would be sufficient notice, under the
+circumstances," said he, and chuckled, much to their amazement. "I may as
+well make a clean breast of it, ma'am. I am going to be married on the
+seventeenth of next month. That's just six weeks off and--"
+
+"Married! You?"
+
+"Ah, madam, I trust you will not forget that I have lived a very lonely
+and you might say profitless life," he said, rubbing his hands together,
+and allowing his smile to broaden into a pleased grin. "As you may know in
+the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love,--and so
+on. A man is as old as he feels. I can't say that I ever felt younger in
+my life than I have felt during the past month."
+
+"I wish you joy and happiness, Wade," said Anne dumbly. She was staring at
+his smirking, seamed old face as if fascinated. "I hope she is a good
+woman and that you will find--"
+
+"She is little more than a girl," said he, straightening his figure still
+a little more, remembering that he had just spoken of his own youthful
+feelings. There may have been something of the pride of conquest as well.
+"Just twenty-one last December."
+
+Lutie laughed out loud. He bent his head quickly and they saw that his
+lips were compressed.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Wade," cried George's wife. "It--it really isn't
+anything to laugh at, and I'm sorry."
+
+"That's all right, Mrs. George," he muttered.
+
+"Only twenty-one," murmured Anne, her gaze running over the shabby old
+figure in front of her. "My God, Wade, is she--what can she be thinking
+of?"
+
+He looked straight into her eyes, and spoke. "Is it so horrible for a
+young girl to marry an old man, ma'am?" he asked sorrowfully, and so
+respectfully that she was deceived into believing that he intended no
+affront to her.
+
+"They usually know what they are doing when they marry very old men," she
+replied deliberately. "You must not overlook that fact, Wade. But perhaps
+it isn't necessary for me to remind you that young girls do not marry old
+men for love. There may be pity, or sentiment, or duty--but never love.
+More often than not it is avarice, Wade."
+
+"Quite true," said he. "I am glad to have you speak so frankly to me,
+ma'am. It proves that you are interested in my welfare."
+
+"Who is she, Wade?" she inquired.
+
+Lutie had passed into the library, leaving them together in the hall. She
+had experienced a sudden sensation of nausea. It was impossible for her to
+remain in the presence of this shattered old hulk and still be able to
+keep the disgust from showing itself in her eyes. She was the wife of a
+real man, and the wife of a man whom she could love and caress and yield
+herself to with a thrill of ecstasy in her blood.
+
+"The young lady I was speaking to you about some weeks ago, madam,--the
+daughter of my friend who conducts the _delicatessen_ just below us in
+Sixth Avenue. You remember I spoke to you of the Southern lady reduced to
+a commercial career by--"
+
+"I remember. I remember thinking at the time that it might be the mother
+who would prevail--I am sorry, Wade. I shouldn't have said that--"
+
+"It's quite all right," said he amiably. "It is barely possible--ay, even
+probable,--that it was the mother who prevailed. They sometimes do, you
+know. But Marian appears to have a mind of her own. She loves me, Mrs.
+Thorpe. I am quite sure of that. It would be pretty hard to deceive me."
+
+Through all of this Anne was far from oblivious to the sinister
+comparisons the man was drawing. She had always been a little afraid of
+him. Now an uneasy horror was laying its hold upon her. He had used her as
+an example in persuading a silly, unsophisticated girl to give herself to
+him. He had gone about his courtship in the finery his dead master had
+left behind him.
+
+"I thank you for your good wishes, Mrs. Thorpe," he went on, smoothly. "If
+it is not too much to ask, I should like to have you say a few good words
+for me to Marian some day soon. She would be very greatly influenced by
+the opinion of so great a lady as--"
+
+"But I thought you said it was settled," she broke in sharply.
+
+"It is settled," he said. "But if you would only do me the favour
+of--er--advising her to name an earlier day than the seventeenth, I--"
+
+"I cannot advise her, Wade," said she firmly. "It is out of the question."
+
+"I am sorry," he said, lowering his gaze. "Mr. Thorpe was my best friend
+as well as my master. I thought, for his sake, you might consent to--"
+
+"You must do your own pleading, Wade," she interrupted, a red spot
+appearing in each cheek. Then rashly: "You may continue to court her in
+Mr. Thorpe's clothes but you need not expect his wife to lend her
+assistance also."
+
+His eyes glittered. "I am sorry if I have offended you, ma'am. And I thank
+you for being honest and straightforward with me. It is always best."
+
+"I did not mean to hurt your feelings, Wade," she began, half-sorry for
+her remark.
+
+"Not in the least, ma'am. Nothing can hurt my feelings. You see, I lived
+with Mr. Thorpe a great deal longer than you did. I got quite beyond being
+hurt."
+
+She drew a step nearer. "Wade," she said quietly, "I am going to advise
+you, not this wretched girl who is planning to marry you. How old are
+you?"
+
+"Two score and a half and five," he answered promptly. Evidently he had
+uttered the glib lie before, and as on another occasion he waited for his
+listener to reduce the words to figures.
+
+"Fifty-five," said Anne, after some time. She was not good at mathematics.
+"I thought you were older than that. It doesn't matter, however. You are
+fairly well-off, I believe. Upwards of fifty thousand dollars, no doubt.
+Now, I shall be quite frank with you. This girl is taking you for your
+money. Just a moment, if you please. I do not know her, and I may be doing
+her an injustice. You have compared her to me in reaching your
+conclusions. You do not deceive yourself any more than Mr. Thorpe deceived
+himself. He knew I did not love him, and you must know that the same
+condition exists in this affair of yours. You have thanked me for being
+honest. Well, I was honest with Mr. Thorpe. I would have been as true as
+steel to him, even if he had lived to be an hundred. The question you must
+ask of yourself is this, Wade: Will this girl be as true as steel to you?
+Is there no other man to be afraid of?"
+
+He listened intently. A certain greyness crept into his hollow cheeks.
+
+"Was there no other man when you married Mr. Thorpe?" he asked levelly.
+
+"Yes, there was," she surprised him by replying. "An honest man, however.
+I think you know--"
+
+She scarcely heard Wade as he went on, now in a most conciliatory way. "It
+may interest you to know that I have arranged to buy out the delicatessen.
+We expect to enlarge and tidy the place up just as soon as we can get
+around to it. I believe I shall be very happy, once I get into active
+business. Mrs. Gadscomb,--that's the present mother,--I mean to say, the
+present owner, Marian's mother, has agreed to conduct the place as
+heretofore, at a very excellent salary, and I have no fear as to--But
+excuse me for going on like this, ma'am. No doubt you would like to talk
+about your own affairs instead of listening to mine. You said something
+about opening the house and coming back here to live. Of course, I shall
+consider it my duty to remain here just as long as I can be of service to
+you. There will be a little plumbing needed on the third floor, and I
+fancy a general cleaning--"
+
+"Thank heaven, there is Mr. Dodge at last," cried Anne, as the bell
+jangled almost over her head, startling her into a little cry of alarm.
+
+As Wade shuffled toward the front door, once more the simple slave of
+circumstance, she fled quickly into the library.
+
+"Oh, Lutie," she cried, sinking into a chair beside the long, familiar
+table, and beating with her clenched hands upon the surface of it, "I know
+at last just how I look to other people. My God in heaven, what a _thing
+I_ must seem to you."
+
+Lutie came swiftly out of the shadows and laid her hands upon the
+shoulders of her sister-in-law.
+
+"You ought to thank the Lord, dear old girl, for the revelation," she said
+gently. "I guess it's just what you've needed." Then she leaned over and
+pressed her warm, soft cheek to Anne's cold one. "If I owned this house,"
+she said almost in a whisper, "I'd renovate it from top to bottom. I'd get
+rid of more than old Wade and the old clothes. The best and cheapest way
+to renovate it would be to set fire to a barrel of kerosene in the
+basement."
+
+"Oh, how horrible for that girl to marry a dreadful, shrivelled old man
+like Wade. The skin on his hands is all wrinkled and loose--I couldn't help
+noticing it as I--"
+
+"Hello!" called out Simmy from the doorway, peering into the darkened
+room. "Where the deuce are you? Ah, that's better, Wade." The caretaker
+had switched on the lights in the big chandelier. "Sorry to be late, Anne.
+Morning, Lutie. How's my god-son? Couldn't get here a minute sooner. You
+see, Anne, I've got other clients besides you. Braden, for instance. I've
+been carrying out his instructions in regard to that confounded
+trusteeship. The whole matter is to be looked after by a Trust Company
+from now on. Simplifies matters enormously."
+
+Anne started up. "Isn't--isn't he coming back to America?" she cried.
+
+"Sure,--unless they pink him some day. My goodness, you don't suppose for
+an instant that he could manage the whole of that blooming foundation and
+have any time to spare for _hopeful_ humanity,--do you? Why, it will take a
+force of half a dozen men to keep the books straight and look after the
+ever-increasing capital. By the time old Brady is ready to start the ball
+rolling there will be so much money stored up for the job that Rockefeller
+will be ashamed to mention the pitiful fortune he controls. In the
+meantime he can go on saving people's lives while the trust company saves
+the Foundation."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+Thorpe returned to New York about the middle of May, in the tenth month of
+the war. The true facts concerning the abrupt severance of his connections
+with the hospital corps in France were never divulged. His confreres and
+his superiors maintained a discreet and loyal silence. It was to Simmy
+that he explained the cause of his retirement. Word had gone out among the
+troops that he was the American doctor whose practices were infinitely
+more to be feared than the bullets from an enemy's guns.... It was
+announced from headquarters that he was returning to the United States on
+account of ill-health. He had worked hard and unceasingly and had exposed
+himself to grave physical hardships. He came home with a medal for
+conspicuous and unexampled valour while actually under fire. One report
+had it that on more than one occasion he appeared not only to scorn death
+but to invite it, so reckless were his deeds.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile James Marraville died in great agony. Those nearest to him said,
+in so many words, that it was a great pity he did not die at the time of
+the operation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"But," began one of the reporters at the dock, "you are said to have
+risked your own life, Dr. Thorpe, on at least half a dozen occasions when
+you exposed yourself to the fire of the enemy by going out in front after
+men who had fallen and were as good as dead when you got to them. In every
+case, we are told the men died on the stretchers while they were being
+carried to the rear. Do you mind telling us why you brought those men back
+when you knew that they were bound to die--"
+
+"You have been misinformed," interrupted Thorpe. "One of those men did not
+die. I did all that was possible to save the lives as well as the bodies
+of those wretched fellows. Not one of them appeared to have a chance. The
+one who survived was in the most hopeless condition of them all. He is
+alive to-day, but without legs or arms. He is only twenty-two. He may live
+to be seventy. The others died. Will you say that they are not better off
+than he? And yet we tried to save them all. That is what we were there
+for. I saw a man run a bayonet through the heart of his own brother one
+day. We were working over him at the time and we knew that our efforts
+would be useless. The brother knew it also. He merely did the thing we
+refused to do. You want to know why I deliberately picked out of all the
+wounded the men who seemed to have the least chance for recovery, and
+brought them back to a place of safety. Well, I will tell you quite
+frankly, why I chose those men from among all the others. They were being
+left behind. They were as good as dead, as you say. I wanted to treat the
+most hopeless cases that could be found. I wanted to satisfy myself. I
+went about it quite cold-bloodedly,--not bravely, as the papers would have
+it,--and I confess that I passed by men lying out there who might have had
+a chance, looking for those who apparently had none. Seven of them died,
+as you say,--seven of the 'hopelessly afflicted.' One of them lived. You
+will now say that having proved to my own satisfaction that no man can be
+'hopelessly afflicted,' I should be ready to admit the fallacy of my
+preachings. But you are wrong. I am more firmly intrenched in my position
+than ever before. That man's life should not have been saved. We did him a
+cruel wrong in saving it for him. He wanted to die, he still wants to die.
+He will curse God to the end of his days because he was allowed to live.
+Some day his relatives will exhibit him in public, as one of the greatest
+of freaks, and people will pay to enter the side shows to see him. They
+will carry him about in shawl straps. He will never be able to protest,
+for he has lost the power of speech. He can only _see_ and _hear_. Will
+you be able to look into the agonised eyes of that man as he lies propped
+up in a chair, a mere trunk, and believe that he is glad to be alive? Will
+you then rejoice over the fact that we saved him from a much nobler grave
+than the one he occupies in the side-show, where all the world may stare
+at him at so much per head? An inglorious reward, gentlemen, for a brave
+soldier of the Republic."
+
+"We may quote you as saying, Dr. Thorpe, that you have not abandoned your
+theories?"
+
+"Certainly. I shall go on preaching, as you are pleased to call my
+advocacy. A great many years from to-day--centuries, no doubt,--the world
+will think as I do now. Thank you, gentlemen, for your courtesy in--"
+
+"Have you heard that James Marraville died last week, Dr. Thorpe?" broke
+in one of the reporters.
+
+"No," said he, quite unmoved. "I am not surprised, however. I gave him
+five or six months."
+
+"Didn't you expect him to get entirely well?" demanded the man, surprised.
+
+Braden shook his head, smiling. "No one expected that, gentlemen,--not even
+Mr. Marraville."
+
+"But every one thought that the operation was a success, and--"
+
+"And so it was, gentlemen," said Thorpe unsmilingly; "a very terrible
+success."
+
+"Gee, if we print that as coming from you, Dr. Thorpe, it will create the
+biggest sensation in years."
+
+"Then I haven't the least doubt that you will print it," said Thorpe.
+
+There was a short silence. Then the spokesman said: "I think I speak for
+every man here when I say that we will not print it, Dr. Thorpe. We
+understand, but the people wouldn't." He deliberately altered the
+character of the interview and inquired if German submarines had been
+sighted after the steamship left Liverpool. The whole world was still
+shuddering over the disaster to the _Lusitania_, torpedoed the week
+before, with the loss of over a thousand souls.
+
+Thorpe drove uptown with Simmy Dodge, who would not hear of his going to
+an hotel, but conducted him to his own apartment where he was to remain as
+long as he pleased.
+
+"Get yourself pulled together, old chap, before you take up any work,"
+advised Simmy. "You look pretty seedy. We're going to have a hot summer,
+they say. Don't try to do too much until you pick up a bit. Too bad
+they're fighting all over the continent of Europe. If they weren't, hang
+me if I wouldn't pack you onto a boat and take you over there for a good
+long rest, in spite of what happened to the _Lusitania_. We'll go up into
+the mountains in June, Brady,--or what do you say to skipping out to the
+San Francisco fair for a few--"
+
+"You're looking thin and sort of pegged out, old boy," began Simmy
+soothingly.
+
+"I'm all right, Simmy. Sound as anything. I don't mind telling you that it
+wasn't my health that drove me out of the service,--and that's what hurts.
+They--they didn't want me. They thought it was best for me to get out."
+
+"Good Lord!" gasped Simmy, struggling between amazement and indignation.
+"What kind of blithering fools have they got over--"
+
+"They are not blithering fools," said Thorpe soberly. "The staff would not
+have turned me out, I'm sure of that. I was doing good work, Simmy," he
+went on rapidly, eagerly, "even though I do say it myself. Everybody was
+satisfied, I'm sure. Night and day,--all the time,--mind you, and I was
+standing up under it better than any of them. But, you see, it wasn't the
+staff that did it. It was the poor devil of a soldier out there in the
+trenches. They found out who I was. Newspapers, of course. Well, that
+tells the story. They were afraid of me. But I am not complaining. I do
+not blame them. God knows it was hard enough for them to face death out
+there at the front without having to think of--well, getting it anyhow if
+they fell into my hands. I--But there's no use speaking of it, Simmy. I
+wanted you to know why I got out, and I want Anne to know. As for the
+rest, let them think I was sick or--cowardly if they like."
+
+Simmy was silent for a long time. He said afterwards that it was all he
+could do to keep from crying as he looked at the pale, gaunt face of his
+friend and listened to the verdict of the French soldiers.
+
+"I don't see the necessity for telling Anne," he said, at last, pulling
+rather roughly at his little moustache. They were seated at one of the
+broad windows in Simmy's living-room, drinking in the cool air that came
+up from the west in advance of an impending thunderstorm. The day had been
+hot and stifling. "No sense in letting her know, old man. Secret between
+you and me, if you don't--"
+
+"I'd rather she knew," said Thorpe briefly. "In fact, she will have to
+know."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Thorpe was staring out over the Park, and did not answer. Simmy found
+another cigarette and lighted it, scorching his fingers while furtively
+watching his companion's face.
+
+"How is Anne, Simmy?" demanded Thorpe abruptly. There was a fierce, eager
+light in his eyes, but his manner was strangely repressed. "Where is she?"
+
+Simmy took a deep breath. "She's well and she's at home."
+
+"You mean,--down there in the old--"
+
+"The old Thorpe house. I don't know what's got into the girl, Brady. First
+she swears she won't live in the house, and then she turns around,--just
+like that,--and moves in. Workmen all over the place, working overtime and
+all that sort of thing,--with Anne standing around punchin' 'em with a
+sharp stick if they don't keep right on the job. Top to bottom,--renovated,
+redecorated, brightened up,--wouldn't recognise the place as--"
+
+"Is she living there--alone?"
+
+"Yes. New lot of servants and--By the way, old Wade has--what do you think
+he has done?"
+
+"How long has she been living down there?" demanded the other,
+impatiently. His eyes were gleaming.
+
+"Well, old Wade has gone and got married," went on Simmy, deliberately
+ignoring the eager question. "Married a girl of twenty or something like
+that. Chucked his job, bloomed out as a dandy,--spats and chamois gloves
+and silk hats,--cleared out three weeks ago for a honeymoon,--rather pretty
+girl, by the way,--"
+
+Braden's attention had been caught at last and held. "Wade married? Good
+Lord! Oh, I say, Simmy, you _can't_ expect me to believe--"
+
+"You'll see. He has shaken the dust of Thorpe house from his person and is
+gallivanting around in lavender perfumes and purple linen."
+
+"My God! That old hulk and--twenty years, did you say? Why, the damned old
+scoundrel! After all he has seen and--" His jaws closed suddenly with a
+snap, and his eyes narrowed into ugly slits.
+
+"Be careful, Brady, old top," said Simmy, shaking his head. "It won't do
+to call Wade names, you know. Just stop and think for a second or two."
+
+Thorpe relaxed with a gesture of despair. "You are right, Simmy. Why
+should I blame Wade?"
+
+He got up and began pacing the floor, his hands clenched behind his back.
+Simmy smoked in silence, apparently absorbed in watching the angry clouds
+that blackened the western sky.
+
+Presently Thorpe resumed his seat in the window. His eyes did not meet
+Simmy's as the latter turned toward him. He look straight out over the
+tops of the great apartment houses on the far side of the Park.
+
+"How long has she been living down there alone?" he asked again.
+
+"Five or six weeks."
+
+"When did you last see her?"
+
+"Yesterday. She's been dreadfully nervous ever since the blowing up of the
+_Lusitania_. I asked her to go to the pier with me. She refused. See here,
+Brady," said Simmy, rising suddenly and laying his hand on the other's
+shoulder, "what are you going to do about Anne?"
+
+"Nothing. Anne can never be anything to me, nor I to her," said Thorpe,
+white-faced and stern. His face was rigid.
+
+"Nonsense! You love her, don't you?"
+
+"Yes. That has nothing to do with it, however."
+
+"And she loves you. I suppose that hasn't anything to do with it, either.
+I suppose it is right and proper and natural that you both should go on
+loving each other to the end of time without realising the joys of--"
+
+"Don't try to argue the--"
+
+"It's right that you should let that glorious, perfect young creature
+wither and droop with time, grow old without--oh, Lordy, what a damn fool
+you are, Brady! There isn't the slightest reason in this world why you
+shouldn't get married and--"
+
+"Stop that, Simmy!"
+
+"Here you are, two absolutely sound, strong, enduring specimens of
+humanity,--male and female,--loving each other, wanting each other,--and yet
+you say you can never be anything to each other! Hasn't nature anything to
+do with it? Are you going to sit there and tell me that for some
+obstinate, mawkish reason you think you ought to deprive her of the one
+man in all this world that she wants and must have? It doesn't matter what
+she did a couple of years ago. It doesn't matter that she was,--and still
+may be designing,--the fact remains that she is the woman you love and that
+you are her man. She married old Mr. Thorpe deliberately, I grant you. She
+doesn't deny it. She loved you when she did it. And you can't, to save
+your soul, hate her for it. You ought to do so, I admit. But you don't,
+and that solves the problem. You want her now even more than you did two
+years ago. You can't defy nature, old chap. You may defy convention, and
+honour, and even common decency, but you can't beat nature out of its due.
+Now, look me in the eye! Why can't you marry Anne and--be everything to
+her, instead of nothing, as you put it? Answer me!"
+
+"It is impossible," groaned Thorpe. "You cannot understand, Simmy."
+
+"Nothing is impossible," said Simmy, the optimist. "If you are afraid of
+what people will say about it, then all I have to say is that you are
+worse than a coward: you are a stupid ass. People talked themselves black
+in the face when she married your grandfather, and what good did it do
+them? Not a particle of good. They roasted her to a fare-you-well, and
+they called her a mean, avaricious, soulless woman, and still she
+survives. Everybody expects her to marry you. When she does it, everybody
+will smile and say 'I told you so,'--and sneer a little, perhaps,--but, hang
+it all, what difference should that make? This is a big world. It is
+busier than you think. It will barely take the time to sniff twice or
+maybe three times at you and Anne and then it will hustle along on the
+scent of something new. It's always smelling out things, but that's all it
+amounts to. It overlooks divorces, liaisons, murders,--everything, in fact,
+except disappointments. It never forgives the man or woman who disappoints
+it. Now, I know something else that's on your mind. You think that because
+you operated--fatally, we'll say,--on your grandfather, that that is an
+obstacle in the way of your marriage with Anne. Tommy-rot! I've heard of a
+hundred doctors who have married the widows of their patients, and their
+friends usually congratulate 'em, which goes to prove something, doesn't
+it? You are expected by ninety per cent. of the inhabitants of greater New
+York to marry Anne Tresslyn. They may have forgotten everything else, but
+that one thing they _do_ expect. They said it would happen and it must.
+They said it when Anne married your grandfather, they said it when he died
+and they say it now, even though their minds are filled with other
+things."
+
+Thorpe eyed him steadily throughout this earnest appeal. "Do you think
+that Anne expects it, Simmy?" he inquired, a harsh note in his voice.
+
+Simmy had to think quickly. "I think she does," he replied, and always was
+to wonder whether he said the right thing. "She is in love with you. She
+wants you, and anything that Anne wants she expects to get. I don't mean
+that in a disparaging sense, either. If she doesn't marry you, she'll
+never marry any one. She'll wait for you till the end of her days. Even if
+you were to marry some one else, she'd--"
+
+"I shall not marry any one else," said Thorpe, almost fiercely.
+
+"--She'd go on waiting and wanting you just the same, and you would go on
+wanting her," concluded Simmy. "You will never consider your life complete
+until you have Anne Tresslyn as a part of it. She wants to make you happy.
+That's what most women want when they're in love with a man."
+
+"I tell you, Simmy, I cannot marry Anne. I love her,--God knows how
+terribly I want her,--in spite of everything. It _is_ nature. You can't
+kill love, no matter how hard you try. Some one else has to do the
+killing. Anne is keeping it alive in me. She has tortured my love, beaten
+it, outraged it, but all the time she has been secretly feeding it,
+caressing it, never for an instant letting it out of her grasp. You cannot
+understand, Simmy. You've never been in love with a woman like Anne. She
+may have despaired at times, but she has never given up the fight, not
+even when she must have thought that I despised her. She knew that my love
+was mortally hurt, but do you think she would let it die? No! She will
+keep it alive forever,--and she will suffer, too, in doing so. But what's
+that to Anne? She--"
+
+"Just a second, old chap," broke in Simmy. "You are forgetting that Anne
+wants you to be happy."
+
+"God, how happy I could have been with her!"
+
+"See here, will you go down there and see her?" demanded Simmy.
+
+"I can't do that,--I can't do it. Simmy--" he lowered his voice to almost a
+whisper,--"I can't trust myself. I don't know what would happen if I were
+to see her again,--be near her, alone with her. This longing for her has
+become almost unbearable. I thought of her every minute of the time I was
+out there at the front--Yes, I had to put the heaviest restraint upon
+myself at times to keep from chucking the whole thing and dashing back
+here to get her, to take her, to keep her,--maybe to kill her, I don't
+know. Now I realise that I was wrong in coming back to America at all. I
+should have gone--oh, anywhere else in the world. But here I am, and,
+strangely enough, I feel stronger, more able to resist. It was the
+distance between us that made it so terrible. I can resist her here, but,
+by heaven, I couldn't over there. I could have come all the way back from
+France to see her, but I can't go from here down to Washington Square,--so
+that shows you how I stand in the matter."
+
+"Now I know the real reason why you came back to little old New York,"
+said Simmy sagely, and Thorpe was not offended.
+
+"In the first place I cannot marry her while she still has in her
+possession the money for which she sold herself and me," said Thorpe,
+musing aloud. "You ought to at least be able to understand that, Simmy? No
+matter how much I love her, I can't make her my wife with that accursed
+money standing--But there's no use talking about _that_. There is an even
+graver reason why I ought not to marry her, an insurmountable reason. I
+cannot tell you what it is, but I fear that down in your heart you
+suspect."
+
+Simmy leaned forward in his chair. "I think I know, old man," he said
+simply. "But even that shouldn't stand in the way. I don't see why you
+should have been kind and gentle and merciful to Mr. Thorpe, and refuse to
+be the same, in a different way, to her." His face broke into a whimsical
+smile. "Anne is what you might call hopelessly afflicted. Dammit all, put
+her out of her misery!"
+
+Thorpe stared at him aghast. The utter banality of the remark left him
+speechless. For the first time in their acquaintance, he misjudged Simmy
+Dodge. He drew back from him, scowling.
+
+"That's a pretty rotten thing to say, Simmy," he said, after a moment.
+"Pretty poor sort of wit."
+
+"It wasn't meant for wit, my friend," said Simmy seriously. "I meant every
+word of it, no matter how rotten it may have sounded. If you are going to
+preach mercy and all that sort of silly rot, practise it whenever it is
+possible. There's no law against your being kind to Anne Tresslyn. You
+don't have to be governed by a commission or anything like that. She's
+just as deserving as any one, you know."
+
+"Which is another way of saying that she _deserves_ my love?" cried Thorpe
+angrily.
+
+"She's got it, so it really doesn't matter whether she deserves it or not.
+You can't take it away from her. You've tried it and--well, she's still got
+it, so there's no use arguing."
+
+"Do you think it gives me any happiness to love her as I do?" cried the
+other. "Do you think I am finding joy in the prospect of never having her
+for my own--all for my own? Do you--"
+
+"Well, my boy, do you think she is finding much happiness living down
+there in that old house all alone? Do you think she is getting much real
+joy out of her little old two millions? By the way, why is she living down
+there at all? I can tell you. She's doing it because she's got nerve
+enough to play the game out as she began it. She's doing it because she
+believes it will cause you to think better of her. This is a guess on my
+part, but I know darned well she wouldn't be doing it if there wasn't some
+good and sufficient reason."
+
+Thorpe nodded his head slowly, an ironic smile on his lips. "Yes, she _is_
+playing the game, but not as she began it. I am not so sure that I think
+better of her for doing it."
+
+"Brady, I hope you'll forgive me for saying something harsh and
+disrespectful about your grandfather, but here goes. He played you a
+shabby trick in taking Anne away from you in the first place. No matter
+how shabbily Anne behaved toward you, he was worse than she. Then he
+virtually compelled you to perform an operation that--well, I'll not say
+it. We can forgive him for that. He was suffering. And then he went out of
+his way to leave that old house down there to Anne, knowing full well that
+if she continued to live in it, it would be a sort of prison to her. She
+can't sell it, she can't rent it. She's got to live in it, or abandon it
+altogether. I call it a pretty mean sort of trick to play on her, if
+you'll forgive my--"
+
+"She doesn't have to live in it," said Thorpe doggedly.
+
+"She is going to live there until you take her out of it, bodily if you
+please, and you are going to become so all-fired sorry for her that
+you'll--"
+
+"Good Lord, Simmy," shouted Thorpe, springing to his feet with a bitter
+imprecation, "don't go on like this. I can't stand it. I know how she
+hates it. I know how frightened, how miserable she is down there. It _is_
+a prison,--no, worse than that, it is haunted by something that you cannot
+possibly--My God, it must be awful for her, all alone,--shivering,
+listening,--something crawly--something sinister and accusing--Why, she--"
+
+"Here, here, old fellow!" cried Simmy in alarm. "Don't go off your nut.
+You're talking like a crazy man,--and, hang it all, I don't like the look
+in your eye. Gosh, if it gives you the creeps--who don't have to be down
+there of nights,--what must it be for that shrinking, sensitive--Hey! Where
+are you going?"
+
+"I'm going down there to see her. I'm going to tell her that I was a cur
+to write what I did to her the day I sailed. I--" He stopped short near the
+door, and faced his friend. His hands were clenched.
+
+"I shall see her just this once,--never again if I can avoid it," he said.
+"Just to tell her that I don't want her to live in that house. She's got
+to get out. I'll not know a moment's peace until she is out of that
+house."
+
+Simmy heard the door slam and a few minutes later the opening and closing
+of the elevator cage. He sat quite still, looking out over the trees. He
+was a rather pathetic figure.
+
+"I wonder if I'd be so loyal to him if I had a chance myself," he mused.
+"Oh, Lordy, Lordy!" He closed his eyes as if in pain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+The storm burst in all its fury when Thorpe was half way down the Avenue
+in the taxi he had picked up at the Plaza. Pedestrians scurried in all
+directions, seeking shelter from the wind and rain; the blackness of night
+had fallen upon the city; the mighty roar of a thousand cannon came out of
+the clouds; terrifying flashes rent the skies. The man in the taxi neither
+saw nor heard the savage assault of the elements. He was accustomed to the
+roar of battle. He was used to thinking with something worse than thunder
+in his ears, and something worse than raindrops beating about him.
+
+He knew that Anne was afraid of the thunder and the lightning. More than
+once she had huddled close to him and trembled in the haven of his arms,
+her fingers to her ears, while storms raged about them. He was thinking of
+her now, down there in that grim old house, trembling in some darkened
+place, her eyes wide with alarm, her heart beating wildly with terror,--ah,
+he remembered so well how wildly her heart could beat!
+
+He had forgotten his words to Simmy: "I can't trust myself!" There was but
+one object in his mind and that was to retract the unnecessary challenge
+with which he had closed his letter to her in January. Why should he have
+demanded of her a sacrifice for which he could offer no consolation? He
+now admitted to himself that when he wrote the blighting postscript he was
+inspired by a mean desire to provoke anticipation on her part. "If you
+also are not a coward, you will return to my grandfather's house, where
+you belong." What right had he to revive the hope that she accounted dead?
+She still had her own life to live, and in her own way. He was not to be a
+part of it. He was sure of that, and yet he had given her something on
+which to sustain the belief that a time would come when their lives might
+find a common channel and run along together to the end. She had taken his
+words as he had hoped she would, and now he was filled with shame and
+compunction.
+
+The rain was coming down in sheets when the taxi-cab slid up to the curb
+in front of the house that had been his home for thirty years. His home!
+Not hers, but _his_! She did not belong there, and he did. He would never
+cease to regard this fine old house as his home.
+
+He was forced to wait for the deluge to cease or to slacken. For many
+minutes he sat there in the cab, his gaze fixed rigidly on the streaming,
+almost opaque window, trying to penetrate the veil of water that hung
+between him and the walls of the house not twenty feet away. At last his
+impatience got the better of him, and, the downpour having diminished
+slightly, he made a sudden swift dash from the vehicle and up the stone
+steps into the shelter of the doorway. Here he found company. Four
+workmen, evidently through for the day, were flattened against the walls
+of the vestibule.
+
+They made way for him. Without realising what he did, he hastily snatched
+his key-ring from his pocket, found the familiar key he had used for so
+many years, and inserted it in the lock. The door opened at once and he
+entered the hall. As he closed the door behind him, his eyes met the
+curious gaze of the four workmen, and for the first time he realised what
+he had done through force of habit. For a moment or two he stood
+petrified, trying to grasp the full significance of his act. He had never
+rung the door-bell of that house,--not in all the years of his life. He had
+always entered in just this way. His grandfather had given him a key when
+he was thirteen,--the same key that he now held in his fingers and at which
+he stared in a sort of stupefaction.
+
+He was suddenly aware of another presence in the hall,--a figure in white
+that stood near the foot of the staircase, motionless where it had been
+arrested by the unexpected opening of the door,--a tall, slender figure.
+
+He saw her hand go swiftly to her heart.
+
+"Why--why didn't you--let me know?" she murmured in a voice so low that he
+could hardly hear the words. "Why do you come in this way to--"
+
+"What must you think of me for--for breaking in upon you--" he began,
+jerkily. "I don't know what possessed me to--you see, I still have the key
+I used while I lived--Oh, I'm sorry, Anne! I can't explain. It just seemed
+natural to--"
+
+"Why did you come without letting me know?" she cried, and now her voice
+was shrill from the effort she made to suppress her agitation.
+
+"I should have telephoned," he muttered. Suddenly he tore the key from the
+ring. "Here! It does not belong to me. I should not have the key to your--"
+
+"Keep it," she said, drawing back. "I want you to keep it. I shall be
+happier if I know that you have the key to the place where I live. No! I
+will not take it."
+
+To her infinite surprise, he slipped the key into his pocket. She had
+expected him to throw it upon the floor as she resolutely placed her hands
+behind her back.
+
+"Very well," he said, rather roughly. "It is quite safe with me. I shall
+never forget myself again as I have to-day."
+
+For the first time since entering the door, he allowed his gaze to sweep
+the lofty hallway. But for the fact that he knew he had come into the
+right house, he would have doubted his own senses. There was nothing here,
+to remind him of the sombre, gloomy place that he had known from
+childhood's earliest days. All of the massive, ugly trappings were gone,
+and all of the gloom. The walls were bright, the rugs gay, the woodwork
+cheerfully white. He glanced quickly down the length of the hall and--yes,
+the suit of mail was gone! He was conscious of a great relief.
+
+Then his eyes fell upon her again. A strange, wistful little smile had
+appeared while his gaze went roving.
+
+"You see that I am trying not to be a coward," she said.
+
+"What a beast I was to write that thing to you," he cried. "I came down
+here to tell you that I am sorry. I don't want you to live here, Anne. It
+is--"
+
+"Ah, but I am here," she said, "and here I shall stay. We have done
+wonders with the place. You will not recognise it,--not a single corner of
+it, Braden. It was all very well as the home of a lonely old man who loved
+it, but it was not quite the place for a lonely young woman who hated it.
+Come! Let me show you the library. It is finished. I think you will say it
+is a woman's room now and not a man's. Some of the rooms upstairs are
+still unfinished. My own room is a joy. Everything is new and--"
+
+"Anne," he broke in, almost harshly, "it will come to nothing, you may as
+well know the truth now. It will save you a great deal of unhappiness, and
+it will allow you to look elsewhere for--"
+
+"Come into the library," she interrupted. "I already have had a great deal
+of unhappiness in that room, so I fancy it won't be so hard to hear what
+you have come to say to me if you say it to me there."
+
+He followed her to the library door, and there stopped in amazement,
+unwilling to credit his eyes. He was looking into the brightest, gayest
+room he had ever seen. An incredible transformation had taken place. The
+vast, stately, sober room had become dainty, exquisite, enchanting. Here,
+instead of oppressive elegance, was the most delicate beauty; here was
+exemplified at a glance the sweet, soft touch of woman in contrast to the
+heavy, uncompromising hand of man. Here was sweetness and freshness, and
+the sparkle of youth, and gone were the grim things of age. Here was light
+and happiness, and the fragrance of woman.
+
+"In heaven's name, what _have_ you done to this room?" he cried. "Am I in
+my right senses? Can this be my grandfather's house?"
+
+She smiled, and did not answer. She was watching his face with eager,
+wistful eyes.
+
+"Why, it's--it's unbelievable," he went on, an odd tremor in his voice. "It
+is wonderful. It is--why, it is beautiful, Anne. I could not have dreamed
+that such a change,--What has become of everything? What have you done with
+all the big, clumsy, musty things that--"
+
+"They are in a storage warehouse," said she crisply. "There isn't so much
+as a carpet-tack left of the old regime. Everything is gone. Every single
+thing that was here with your grandfather is gone. I alone am left. When I
+came down here two months ago the place was filled with the things that
+you remember. I had made up my mind to stay here,--but not with the things
+that I remembered. The first thing I did was to clean out the house from
+cellar to garret. I am not permitted to sell the contents of this house,
+but there was nothing to prevent me from storing them. Your grandfather
+overlooked that little point, I fear. In any event, that was the first
+thing I did. Everything is gone, mind you,--even to the portrait that used
+to hang over the mantelpiece there,--and it was the only cheerful object in
+the house. I wish I could show you my boudoir, my bedroom, and the rooms
+in which Mr. Thorpe lived. You--you would love them."
+
+He was now standing in the middle of the room, staring about him at the
+handiwork of Aladdin.
+
+"Why, it isn't--it will not be so dreadful, after all," he said slowly.
+"You have made it all so lovely, so homelike, so much like yourself
+that--you will not find it so hard to live here as I--"
+
+"I wanted you to like it, Braden. I wanted you to see the place,--to see
+what I have done to make it bright and cheerful and endurable. No, I
+sha'n't find it so hard to live here. I was sure that some day you would
+come to see me here and I wanted you to feel that--that it wasn't as hard
+for me as you thought it would be. I have been a coward, though. I confess
+that I could not have lived here with all those things about to--to remind
+me of--You see, I just _had_ to make the place possible. I hope you are not
+offended with me for what I have done. I have played havoc with sentiment
+and association, and you may feel that I--"
+
+"Offended? Good heavens, Anne, why should I be offended? You have a right
+to do what you like here."
+
+"Ah, but I do not forget that it is _your_ home, Braden, not mine. It will
+always be home to you, and I fear it can never be that to me. This is not
+much in the way of a library now, I confess. Thirty cases of books are
+safely stored away,--all of those old first editions and things of that
+sort. They meant nothing to me. I don't know what a first edition is, and
+I never could see any sense in those funny things he called missals, nor
+the incunabula, if that's the way you pronounce it. You may have liked
+them, Braden. If you care for them, if you would like to have them in your
+own house, you must let me _lend_ them to you. Everybody borrows books,
+you know. It would be quite an original idea to lend a whole library,
+wouldn't it? If you--"
+
+"They are better off in the storage warehouse," he interrupted, trying to
+steel himself against her rather plaintive friendliness.
+
+"Don't you intend to shake hands with me?" she asked suddenly. "I am so
+glad that you have come home,--come back, I mean,--and--" She advanced with
+her hand extended.
+
+It was a perilous moment for both of them when she laid her hand in his.
+The blood in both of them leaped to the thrill of contact. The impulse to
+clasp her in his arms, to smother her with kisses, to hold her so close
+that nothing could ever unlock his arms, was so overpowering that his head
+swam dizzily and for an instant he was deprived of vision. How he ever
+passed through that crisis in safety was one of the great mysteries of his
+life. She was his for the taking! She was ready.
+
+Their hands fell apart. A chill swept through the veins of both,--the ice-
+cold chill of a great reaction. They would go on loving each other,
+wanting each other, perhaps forever, but a moment like the one just past
+would never come again. Bliss, joy, complete satisfaction might come, but
+that instant of longing could never be surpassed.
+
+He was very white. For a long time he could not trust himself to speak.
+The fight was a hard one, and it was not yet over. She was a challenge to
+all that he tried to master. He wondered why there was a smile in her
+lovely, soft eyes, while in his own there must have been the hardness of
+steel. And he wondered long afterward how she could have possessed the
+calmness to say:
+
+"Simmy must have been insane with joy. He has talked of nothing else for
+days."
+
+But he did not know that in her secret heart she was crying out in
+ecstasy: "God, how I love him--and _how he loves me_!"
+
+"He is a good old scout," said he lamely, hardly conscious of the words.
+Then abruptly: "I can't stay, Anne. I came down to tell you that--that I
+was a dog to say what I did in my note to you. I knew the construction you
+would put upon the--well, the injunction. It wasn't fair. I led you to
+believe that if you came down here to live that sometime I would--"
+
+"Just a moment, Braden," she interrupted, steadily. "You are finding it
+very difficult to say just the right thing to me. Let me help you, please.
+I fear that I have a more ready tongue than you and certainly I am less
+agitated. I confess that your note decided me. I confess that I believed
+my coming here to live would result in--well, forgiveness is as good a word
+as any at this time. Now you have come to me to say that I have nothing to
+gain by living in this house, that I have nothing to gain by living in a
+place which revolts and terrifies me,--not always, but at times. Well, you
+may spare yourself the pain of saying all that to me. I shall continue to
+live here, even though nothing comes of it, as you say. I shall continue
+to sit here in this rather enchanting place and wait for you to come and
+share it with me. If you--"
+
+"Good God! That is just what I am trying to tell you that I cannot--"
+
+"I know, I know," she broke in impatiently. "That is just what you are
+trying to tell me, and this is just what I am trying to tell you. I do not
+say that you will ever come to me here, Braden. I am only saying to you
+that I shall wait for you. If you do not come, that is your affair, not
+mine. I love you. I love you with every bit of selfishness that is in my
+soul, every bit of goodness that is in my heart, and every bit of badness
+that is in my blood. I am proud to tell you that I am selfish in this one
+respect, if no longer in any other. I would give up everything else in the
+world to have you. That is how selfish I am. I want to be happy and I
+selfishly want you to be happy--for my sake if not for your own. Do you
+suppose that I am glorifying myself by living here? Do you suppose that I
+am justifying myself? If you do, you are very greatly mistaken. I am here
+because you led me to believe that--that things might be altered if I--" Her
+lips trembled despite the brave countenance she presented to him. In a
+second she had quelled the threatened weakness. "I have made this house a
+paradise. I have made it a place in which you may find happiness if you
+care to seek for it here. At night I shudder and cringe, because I am the
+coward you would try to reform. I hide nothing from myself. I am afraid to
+be alone in this house. But I shall stay--I shall stay."
+
+"Do you think that I could ever find happiness in this house--now?" he
+demanded hoarsely.
+
+"Do you expect to find happiness anywhere else, Braden?" she asked, a
+little break in her voice.
+
+"No. I shall never find happiness anywhere else,--real happiness, I mean. I
+cannot be happy without you, Anne."
+
+"Nor I without you," she said simply. "I don't see that it makes very much
+difference _where_ we choose to be unhappy, Braden, so I shall take mine
+here,--where it is likely to be complete."
+
+"But that is just what I don't want you to do," he cried angrily. "I don't
+want you to stay here. You must leave this place. You have had hell
+enough. I insist that you--"
+
+"No use arguing," she said, shaking her head. "I can love you here as well
+as anywhere else, and that is all I care for,--just my love for you."
+
+"God, what a cruel thing love is, after all. If there was no such thing as
+love, we could--"
+
+"Don't say that!" she cried out sharply. "Love is everything. It conquers
+everything. It is both good and evil. It makes happiness and it makes
+misery. Braden,--oh, my dearest!--see what it has made for us? Love! Why,
+don't you know it is Love that we love? _We love Love._ I would not love
+you if you were not Love itself. I treated you abominably, but you still
+love me. You performed an act of mercy for the man you loved, and he loved
+you. You cursed me in your heart, and I still love you. We cannot escape
+love, my friend. It rules us,--it rules all of us. The thing that you say
+stands between us--that act of mercy, dearest,--what effect has it had upon
+either of us? I would come to you to-morrow, to-day,--this very hour if you
+asked me to do so, and not in all the years that are left to me would I
+see the shadow you shrink from."
+
+"The shadow extends back a great deal farther, Anne," he said, closing his
+eyes as if in pain. "It began long before my grandfather found the peace
+which I have yet to find. It began when you sold yourself to him."
+
+She shrank slightly. "But even that did not kill your love for me," she
+cried out, defensively. "I did not sell my love,--just my soul, if you must
+have a charge against me. I've got it back, thank God, and it is worth a
+good deal more to me to-day than it was when Mr. Thorpe bargained for it.
+Two million dollars!" She spoke ironically, yet with great seriousness.
+"If he could have bought my love for that amount, his bargain would have
+been a good one. If I were to discover now that you do not care for me,
+Braden, and if I could buy your love, which is the most precious thing in
+the world to me, I would not hesitate a second to pay out every dollar I
+have in--"
+
+"Stop!" he cried eagerly, drawing a step nearer and fixing her with
+a look that puzzled and yet thrilled her. "Would you give up
+everything--everything, mind you,--if I were to ask you to do so?"
+
+"You said something like that a few months ago," she said, after a
+moment's hesitation. There was a troubled, hunted look in her eyes, as of
+a creature at bay. "You make it hard for me, Braden. I don't believe I
+could give up everything. I have found that all this money does not give
+me happiness. It does provide me with comfort, with independence, with a
+certain amount of power. It does not bring me the thing I want more than
+anything else in the world, however. Still I cannot say to you now that I
+would willingly give it up, Braden. You would not ask it of me, of course.
+You are too fair and big--"
+
+"But it is exactly what I would ask of you, Anne," he said earnestly, "if
+it came to an issue. You could not be anything more to me than you are now
+if you retained a dollar of that money."
+
+She drew a long, deep breath. "Would you take me back, Braden,--would you
+let me be your wife if I--if I were to give up all that I received from Mr.
+Thorpe?" She was watching his face closely, ready to seize upon the
+slightest expression that might direct her course, now or afterwards.
+
+"I--I--Oh, Anne, we must not harass ourselves like this," he groaned. "It is
+all so hopeless, so useless. It never can be, so what is the use in
+talking about it?"
+
+She now appeared to be a little more sure of her ground. There was a note
+of confidence in her voice as she said: "In that event, it can do no harm
+for me to say that I do not believe I could give it up, Braden."
+
+"You _wouldn't_?"
+
+"If I were to give up all this money, Braden dear, I would prove myself to
+be the most selfish creature in the world."
+
+"Selfish? Good Lord! It would be the height of self-denial. It--"
+
+"When a woman wants something so much that she will give up everything in
+the world to get it, I claim that she is selfish to the last degree. She
+gratifies self, and there is no other way to look at it. And I will admit
+to you now, Braden, that if there is no other way, I will give up all this
+money. That may represent to you just how much I think of _self_. But,"
+and she smiled confidently, "I don't intend to impoverish myself if I can
+help it, and I don't believe you are selfish enough to ask it of me."
+
+"Would you call Lutie selfish?" he demanded. "She gave up everything for
+George."
+
+"Lutie is impulsive. She did it voluntarily. No one demanded it of her.
+She was not obliged to give back a penny, you must remember. My case is
+different. You would demand a sacrifice of me. Lutie did not sell herself
+in the beginning. She sold George. She bought him back. If George was
+worth thirty thousand dollars to her, you are worth two millions to me.
+She gave her _all_, and that would be my _all_. She was willing to pay. Am
+I? That is the question."
+
+"You would have to give it up, Anne," said he doggedly.
+
+He saw the colour fade from her cheeks, and the lustre from her eyes.
+
+"I am not sure that I could do it, Braden," she said, after a long
+silence. Then, almost fiercely: "Will you tell me how I should go about
+getting rid of all this money,--sensibly,--if I were inclined to do so? What
+could I do with it? Throw it away? Destroy it? Burn--"
+
+"There isn't much use discussing ways and means," he said with finality in
+his manner. "I'm sorry we brought the subject up. I came here with a very
+definite object in view, and we--well, you see what we have come to."
+
+"Oh, I--I love you so!" came tremulously from her lips. "I love you so,
+Braden. I--I don't see how I can go on living without--" She suppressed the
+wild, passionate words by deliberately clapping her hands, one above the
+other, over her lips. Red surged to her brow and a look of exquisite shame
+and humiliation leaped into her eyes.
+
+"Anne, Anne--" he began, but she turned on him furiously.
+
+"Why do you lie to me? Why do you lie to yourself? You came here to-day
+because you were mad with the desire to see me, to be near me, to--Oh, you
+need not deny it! You have been crying out for me ever since the day you
+last held me in your arms and kissed me,--ages ago!--just as I have been
+crying out for you. Don't say that you came here merely to tell me that I
+must not live in this house if it leads me to hope for--recompense. Don't
+say that, because it is not the real reason, and you know it. You would
+have remained in Europe if you were through with me, as you would have
+yourself believe. But you are not through with me. You never will be. If
+you cannot be fair with yourself, Braden, you should at least be fair with
+me. You should not have come here to-day. But you could not help it, you
+could not resist. It will always be like this, and it is not fair, it is
+not fair. You say we never can be married to each other. What is there
+left for us, I ask of you,--what will all this lead to? We are not saints.
+We are not made of stone. We--"
+
+"God in heaven, Anne," he cried, aghast and incredulous. "Do you know what
+you are saying? Do you think I would drag you down, despoil you--"
+
+"Oh, you would be honest enough to marry me--_then_," she cried out
+bitterly. "Your sense of honour would attend to all that. You--"
+
+"Stop!" he commanded, standing over her as she shrank back against the
+wall. "Do you think that I love you so little that I could--Love? Is that
+the kind of love that you have been extolling to the skies?"
+
+She covered her flaming face with her hands. "Forgive me, forgive me!" she
+murmured, brokenly. "I am so ashamed of myself."
+
+He was profoundly moved. A great pity for her swept through him. "I shall
+not come again," he said hoarsely. "I will be fair. You are right. You see
+more clearly than I can see. I must not come to you again unless I come to
+ask you to be my wife. You are right. We would go mad with--"
+
+"Listen to me, Braden," she interrupted in a strangely quiet manner. "I
+shall never ask you to come to me. If you want me you must ask me to come
+to you. I will come. But you are to impose no conditions. You must leave
+me to fight out my own battle. My love is so great, so honest, so strong
+that it will triumph over everything else. Listen! Let me say this to you
+before I send you away from me to-day. Love is relentless. It wrecks
+homes, it sends men to the gallows and women to the madhouse. It makes
+drunkards, suicides and murderers of noble men and women. It causes men
+and women to abandon homes, children, honour--and all the things that
+should be dear to them. It impoverishes, corrupts and--defiles. It makes
+cowards of brave men and brave men of cowards. The thing we call love has
+a thousand parts. It has purity, nobility, grandeur, greed, envy,
+lust--everything. You have heard of good women abandoning good husbands for
+bad lovers. You have heard of good mothers giving up the children they
+worship. You have heard of women and men murdering husbands and wives in
+order to remove obstacles from the path of love. One woman whom we both
+know recently gave up wealth, position, honour, children,--everything,--to
+go down into poverty and disgrace with the man she loved. You know who I
+mean. She did it because she could not help herself. Opposed to the evil
+that love can do, there is always the beautiful, the sweet, the pure,--and
+it is that kind of love that rules the world. But the other kind _is_
+love, just the same, and while it does not govern the world, it is none
+the less imperial. What I want to say to you is this: while love may
+govern the world, the world cannot govern love. You cannot govern this
+love you have for me, although you may control it. Nor can I destroy the
+love I have for you. I may not deserve your love, but I have it and you
+cannot take it away from me. Some other woman may rob me of it, perhaps,
+but you cannot do it, my friend. I will wait for you to come and get me,
+Braden. Now, go,--please go,--and do not come here again until--" she smiled
+faintly.
+
+He lowered his head. "I will not come again, Anne," he said huskily.
+
+She did not follow him to the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+Anne left town about the middle of June and did not return until late in
+September. She surprised every one who knew her by going to Nova Scotia,
+where she took a cottage in one of the quaint old coast towns. Lutie and
+George and the baby spent the month of August with her. Near the close of
+their visit, Anne made an announcement that, for one day at least, caused
+them to doubt, very gravely, whether she was in her right mind. George,
+very much perturbed, went so far as to declare to Lutie in the seclusion
+of their bedroom that night, that Anne was certainly dotty. And the queer
+part of it all was that he couldn't, for the life of him, feel sorry about
+it!
+
+The next morning they watched her closely, at times furtively, and waited
+for her to either renounce the decision of the day before or reveal some
+sign that she had no recollection of having made the astounding statement
+at all,--in which case they could be certain that she had been a bit
+flighty and would be in a position to act accordingly. (Get a specialist
+after her, or something like that.) But Anne very serenely discoursed on
+the sweetest sleep she had known in years, and declared she was ready for
+_anything_, even the twelve-mile tramp that George had been trying so hard
+to get her to take with him. Her eyes were brighter, her cheeks rosier
+than they had been for months, and, to George's unbounded amazement, she
+ate a hearty breakfast with them.
+
+"I have written to Simmy," said she, "and James has posted the letter. The
+die is cast. Congratulate me!"
+
+"But, hang it all," cried George desperately, "I still believe you are
+crazy, Anne, so--how can I congratulate you? My Lord, girl--"
+
+He stopped short, for Lutie sprang up from the table and threw her arms
+around Anne. She kissed her rapturously, all the time gurgling something
+into her ear that George could not hear, and perhaps would not have
+understood if he had. Then they both turned toward him, shining-eyed and
+exultant. An instant later he rushed over and enveloped both of them in
+his long, strong arms and shouted out that he was crazy too.
+
+Anne's letter to Simmy was a long one, and she closed it with the
+sentence: "You may expect me not later than the twentieth of September."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Thorpe grew thin and haggard as the summer wore away; his nerves were in
+such a state that he seriously considered giving up his work, for the time
+being, at least. The truth was gradually being forced in upon him that his
+hand was no longer as certain, no longer as steady as it had been. Only by
+exercising the greatest effort of the will was he able to perform the
+delicate work he undertook to do in the hospitals. He was gravely alarmed
+by the ever-growing conviction that he was never sure of himself. Not that
+he had lost confidence in his ability, but he was acutely conscious of
+having lost interest. He was fighting all the time, but it was his own
+fight and not that of others. Day and night he was fighting something that
+would not fight back, and yet was relentless; something that was content
+to sit back in its own power and watch him waste his strength and
+endurance. Each succeeding hour saw him grow weaker under the strain. He
+was fighting the thing that never surrenders, never weakens, never dies.
+He was struggling against a mighty, world-old Giant, born the day that
+God's first man was created, and destined to live with all God's men from
+that time forth: Passion.
+
+Time and again he went far out of his way to pass by the house near
+Washington Square, admittedly surreptitious in his movements. On hot
+nights he rode down Fifth Avenue on the top of the stages, and always cast
+an eye to the right in passing the street in which Anne lived, looking in
+vain for lights in the windows of the closed house. And an hundred times a
+day he thought of the key that no longer kept company with others at the
+end of a chain but lay loose in his trousers' pocket. Times there were
+when an almost irresistible desire came upon him to go down there late at
+night and enter the house, risking discovery by the servants who remained
+in quarters, just for a glimpse of the rooms upstairs she had
+described,--her own rooms,--the rooms in which she dreamed of him.
+
+He affected the society of George and Lutie, spending a great deal of his
+leisure with them, scorning himself the while for the perfectly obvious
+reason that moved him. Automobile jaunts into the country were not
+infrequent. He took them out to the country inns for dinner, to places
+along the New Jersey and Long Island shores, to the show grounds at Coney
+Island. There were times when he could have cursed himself for leading
+them to believe that he was interested only in their affairs and not in
+this affair of his own; times when he realised to the full that he was
+_using_ them to satisfy a certain craving. They were close to Anne in
+every way; they represented her by proxy; they had letters from her
+written in the far-off town in Canada; she loved them, she encouraged
+them, she envied them. And they talked of her,--how they talked of her!
+
+More than all else, George and Lutie personified Love. They represented
+love triumphant over all. Their constancy had been rewarded, and the odds
+had been great against it. He was contented and happy when near them, for
+they gave out love, they radiated it, they lived deep in the heart of it.
+He craved the company of these serene, unselfish lovers because they were
+brave and strong and inspiring. He fed hungrily on their happiness, and he
+honestly tried to pay them for what they gave to him.
+
+He was glad to hear that George was going into a new and responsible
+position in the fall,--a six thousand dollar a year job in the office of a
+big manufacturing company. He rejoiced not because George was going ahead
+so splendidly but because his advancement was a justification of Anne's
+faith in her seemingly unworthy brother,--and, moreover, there was
+distinctly something to be said for the influence of love.
+
+When George's family departed for the north, Thorpe was like a lost soul.
+In the first week of their absence, he found himself more than once on the
+point of throwing everything aside and rushing off after them. His
+scruples, his principles, his resolutions were shaken in the mighty grasp
+of despair. There were to be no more letters, and, worse than all else,
+she would not be lonely!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One day late in August Simmy Dodge burst in upon him. He had motored in
+from Southampton and there was proof that he had not dallied along the
+way. His haste in exploding in Thorpe's presence was evidence of an
+unrestrained eagerness to have it over with.
+
+"My God!" he shouted, tugging at his goggles with nervous hands from which
+he had forgotten to remove his gloves. "You've got to put a stop to this
+sort of thing. It can't go on. She must be crazy,--stark, raving crazy. You
+must not let her do this--"
+
+"What the devil are you talking about?" gasped Thorpe, acutely alarmed by
+the little man's actions, to say nothing of his words, which under other
+circumstances might have been at least intelligent.
+
+"Anne! Why, she's--What do you think she's going to do? Or maybe you know
+already. Maybe you've put her up to this idiotic--Say, what _do_ you know
+about it?" He was glaring at his friend. The goggles rested on the floor
+in a far corner of the consultation-room.
+
+"In heaven's name, Simmy, cool off! I haven't the remotest idea of what
+you are talking about. What has happened?"
+
+"Nothing has happened yet. And it mustn't happen at all. You've got to
+stop her. She has threatened to do it before, and now she comes out flat-
+footed and says she's going to do it,--absolutely, irrevocably, positively.
+Is that plain enough for you? Absolutely, irrev--"
+
+"Would you mind telling me what she is going to do?"
+
+Simmy sat down rather abruptly and wiped his moist, dust-blackened brow.
+
+"She's going to give away every damned nickel of that money she got from
+old Mr. Thorpe,--every damned nickel of it, do you hear? My God! She _is_
+crazy, Brady. We've got to put her in a sanitarium--or torium--as soon as we
+can get hold of--Hi! Look out!"
+
+Thorpe had leaped forward and was shaking him furiously by the shoulders.
+His eyes were wide and gleaming.
+
+"Say that again! Say it again!" he shouted.
+
+"Say it, damn you, Simmy! Can't you see that I want you to say it again--"
+
+"Say--it--again," chattered Simmy. "Let go! How the dickens can I say
+anything with you mauling me all over the--"
+
+"I'm sorry! I will--try to be sensible--and quiet. Now, go on, old
+chap,--tell me all there is to tell." He sank into a chair and leaned
+forward, watching every expression that crossed his friend's face--watching
+with an intensity that finally got on Simmy's nerves.
+
+"She wrote me,--I got the letter yesterday,--Lordy, what did I do with it?
+Never mind. I'll look for it later on. I can remember nearly every word,
+so it doesn't matter. She says she has made up her mind to give all that
+money to charity. Some darned nonsense about never knowing happiness as
+long as she has the stuff in her possession. Absolute idiocy! Wants me to
+handle the matter for her. Lawyer, and all that sort of thing, you see. I
+know what the game is, and so do you. She'd sooner have you than all that
+money. By Gosh! I--here's something I never thought of before." He paused
+and wiped his brow, utter bewilderment in his eyes. "It has just occurred
+to me that I'd sooner have Anne than all the money I've got. I've said
+that to myself a thousand times and--But that has nothing to do with the
+case. Lordy, it gave me a shock for a second or two, though. Seems to
+knock my argument all to smash. Still there _is_ a difference. I didn't
+_earn_ my money. Where was I? Oh, yes,--er--she's got the idea into her head
+that she can never be anything to you until she gets rid of that money.
+Relief fund! Red Cross! Children's Welfare! Tuberculosis camps! All of
+'em! Great snakes! Every nickel! Can you beat it? Now, there's just one
+way to stop this confounded nonsense. You can do it, and you've got to
+come to the mark."
+
+Thorpe was breathing fast, his eyes were glowing. "But suppose that I fail
+to regard it as confounded nonsense. Suppose--"
+
+"Will you marry Anne Thorpe if she gives up this money?" demanded Simmy
+sharply.
+
+"That has nothing to do with Anne's motives," said Thorpe grimly. "She
+wants to give it up because it is burning her soul, Simmy."
+
+"Rats! You make me sick, talking like that. She is giving it up for your
+sake and not because her soul is even uncomfortably hot. Now, I want to
+see you two patch things up, cut out the nonsense, and get married,--but I
+don't intend to see Anne make a fool of herself if I can help it. That
+money is Anne's. The house is hers. The--By the way, she says she intends
+to _keep_ the house. But how in God's name is she going to maintain it if
+she hasn't a dollar in the world? Think the Red Cross will help her when
+she begins to starve down there--"
+
+"I shall do nothing to stop her, Simmy," said Thorpe firmly. "If she has
+made up her mind to give all that money to charity, it is her affair, not
+mine. God knows the Red Cross Society and the Relief Funds need it now
+more than ever before. I'll tell you what I think of Anne Tresslyn's
+sacri--"
+
+"Anne Thorpe, if you please."
+
+"She _hates_--do you hear?--_hates_ the money that my grandfather gave to
+her. It hurts her in more ways than you can ever suspect. Her honour, her
+pride, her peace of mind--all of them and more. She sold me out, and she
+hates the price she received. It is something deeper with her than mere--"
+
+"You are wrong," broke in Simmy, suddenly calm. He leaned forward and laid
+his hand on Thorpe's knee. "She wants you more than anything else in the
+world. You are worth more to her than all the money ever coined. It is no
+real sacrifice, the way she feels about it now, but--listen to me! I am not
+going to stand idly by and see her make herself as poor as Job's turkey
+unless I know--positively know, do you hear,--that she is not to lose out
+entirely. You've just got to say one thing or the other, Brady, before
+it's too late. If she does all this for you, what will you do for her?"
+
+Thorpe got up from his chair and began pacing the office, his lips
+compressed, his eyes lowered. At last he stopped in front of Simmy.
+
+"If I were you, Simmy, I would tell her at once that--it will be of no
+avail."
+
+Simmy glowered to the best of his ability. "Have you never asked her to
+make this sacrifice? Have you never given her a ray of hope on which--"
+
+"Yes,--I will be honest with you,--I asked her if she _could_ give it up."
+
+"There you are!" said Simmy triumphantly. "I was pretty sure you had said
+something--"
+
+"My God, Simmy, I--I don't know what to do," groaned Thorpe, throwing
+himself into a chair and staring miserably into the eyes of his friend.
+
+"There is just one thing you are not to do," said the other gently. "You
+are not to let her do this thing unless you are prepared to meet her half-
+way. If she does her half, you must do yours. I am looking out for her
+interests now, old chap, and I mean to see that she gets fair play. You
+have no right to let her make this sacrifice unless you are ready to do
+your part."
+
+"Then say to her for me that she must keep the money, every penny of it."
+
+Simmy was staggered. "But she--she doesn't want it," he muttered, lamely.
+His face brightened. "I say, old boy, why let the measly money stand in
+the way? Take her and the money too. Don't be so darned finicky about--"
+
+"Come, come, old fellow," protested Thorpe, eyeing him coldly.
+
+"All right," said Simmy resignedly. "I'll say no more along that line. But
+I'm going to make you give her a square deal. This money is hers. She
+bargained for it, and it belongs to her. She sha'n't throw it away if I
+can help it. I came here to ask you to use your influence, to help me and
+to help her. You say that she is to keep the money. That means--there's no
+other chance for her?"
+
+"She knows how I feel about it," said Thorpe doggedly.
+
+"I'll tell her just what you've said. But suppose that she insists on
+going ahead with this idiotic scheme of hers? Suppose she really hates the
+money and wants to get rid of it, just as she says? Suppose this is no
+part of a plan to reconcile--Well, you see what I mean. What then? What's
+to become of her?"
+
+"I don't know," said Thorpe dully. "I don't know."
+
+"She will be practically penniless, Brady. Her mother will not help her.
+God, how Mrs. Tresslyn will rage when she hears of this! Lordy, Lordy!"
+
+Thorpe leaned back in the chair and covered his eyes with his hands. For a
+long time he sat thus, scarcely breathing. Simmy watched him in
+perplexity.
+
+"It would be awful to see Anne Tresslyn penniless," said the little man
+finally, a queer break in his voice. "She's a fair fighter, my boy. She
+doesn't whimper. She made her mistake and she's willing to pay. One
+couldn't ask more than that of any one. It means a good deal for her to
+chuck all this money. I don't want her to do it. I'm fond of her, Brady.
+I, for one, can't bear the thought of her going about in rummy old clothes
+and--well, that's just what it will come to--unless she marries some one
+else."
+
+The hands fell from Thorpe's eyes suddenly. "She will not marry any one
+else," he exclaimed. "What do you mean? What have you heard? Is there--"
+
+"My Lord, you don't expect the poor girl to remain single all the rest of
+her life just to please you, do you?" roared Simmy, springing to his feet.
+"You must not forget that she is young and very beautiful and she'll
+probably be very poor. And God knows there are plenty of us who would like
+to marry her!" He took a turn or two up and down the room and then stopped
+before Thorpe, in whose eyes there was a new and desperate anxiety, born
+of alarm. "She wants me to arrange matters so that she can begin turning
+over this money soon after she comes down in September. She hasn't touched
+the principal. If she sticks to her intention, I'll have to do it. Here is
+her letter. I'll read it to you. George and Lutie know everything, and she
+is writing to her mother, she says. Not a word about you, however. Now,
+listen to what she says, and--for God's sake, _do something_!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+
+Anne's strictest injunction to Simmy Dodge bore upon the anonymity of the
+contributions to the various specified charities. Huge sums were to be
+delivered at stated intervals, covering a period of six months. At the end
+of that period she would have contributed the whole of her fortune to
+charity and, through its agencies, to humanity. The only obligation
+demanded in return from any of these organisations was a pledge of
+secrecy, and from this pledge there was to be no release until such time
+as the donor herself announced her willingness to make public the nature
+and extent of her benefactions. It was this desire to avoid publicity that
+appealed most strongly to Thorpe. As for poor Simmy,--he could not
+understand it at all.
+
+Grimly, Anne's lover refused to interfere with her plans. He went about
+his work from that day on, however, with a feverish eagerness and zest,
+and an exaltation that frequently lifted him to a sort of glory that he
+could neither define nor deny. There were moments when he slipped far back
+into the depths, and cursed himself for rejoicing in the sacrifice she was
+apparently so willing to make. And at such times he found that he had to
+resist an impulse that was almost overwhelming in its force: the impulse
+to rush down to her and cry out that the sacrifice was not necessary!
+
+Mrs. Tresslyn came to see him shortly after Anne's return to the city. She
+was humble. When she was announced, he prepared himself for a bitter
+scene. But she was not bitter, she was not furious; on the contrary, she
+was gentler than he had ever known her to be.
+
+"If you do not take her now, Braden," she said in the course of their
+brief interview, "I do not know what will become of her. I blame myself
+for everything, of course. It was I who allowed her to go into that
+unhappy business of getting Mr. Thorpe's money, and I _am_ to blame. I
+should have allowed her to marry you in the beginning. I should not have
+been deceived by the cleverness of your amiable grandfather. But, you see
+I counted on something better than this for her. I thought,--and she
+thought as well,--that she could one day have both you and the money. It is
+a pretty hard thing to say, isn't it? I saw her to-day. She is quite
+happy,--really it seems to me she was radiantly happy this morning. Simmy
+has arranged for the first instalment of five hundred thousand dollars to
+be paid over to-morrow. She herself has selected the securities that are
+to make up this initial payment. They are the best of the lot, Simmy tells
+me. In a few months she will be penniless. I don't know what is to become
+of her, Braden, if you do not take her when all this absurd business is
+over. You love her and she loves you. Both of you should hate me, but
+Anne, for one, does not. She is sorrier for me than she is for herself. Of
+course, you are to understand one thing, Braden." She lifted her chin
+proudly. "She may return to me at any time. My home is hers. She shall
+never want for anything that I am able to give her. She is my daughter
+and--well, you are to understand that I shall stand by her, no matter what
+she does. I have but one object in coming to see you to-day. I need not
+put it into words."
+
+A few days later Simmy came in, drooping. "Well, the first half-million is
+gone. Next month another five hundred thousand goes. I hope you are happy,
+Brady."
+
+"I hope Anne is happy," was all that Thorpe said in response.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+No word came to him from Anne. She was as silent as the sphinx. Not a day
+passed that did not find him running eagerly,--hopefully,--through his mail,
+looking for the letter he hoped for and was sure that eventually she would
+write to him. But no letter came. The only news he had of her was obtained
+through Simmy, who kept him acquainted with the progress of his client's
+affairs, forgetting quite simply the admonition concerning secrecy.
+
+Thorpe virtually abandoned his visits to the home of the young Tresslyns.
+He had them out to dinner and the theatre occasionally. They talked quite
+freely with him about the all-important topic, and seemed not to be
+unhappy or unduly exercised over the step Anne had taken. In fact, George
+was bursting with pride in his sister. Apparently he had no other thought
+than that everything would turn out right and fair for her in the end. But
+the covert, anxious, analysing look in Lutie's eyes was always present and
+it was disconcerting.
+
+He avoided the little flat in which he had spent so many happy, and in a
+sense profitable hours, and they appreciated his reason for doing so. They
+kept their own counsel. He had no means of knowing that Anne Thorpe's
+visits were but little more frequent than his.
+
+Anne's silence, her persistent aloofness, began to irritate him at last.
+Weeks had passed since her return to the city and she had given no sign.
+He had long since ceased his sly pilgrimages to the neighbourhood of
+Washington Square. Now as the days grew shorter and the nights infinitely
+longer, he was conscious, first, of a distinct feeling of resentment
+toward her, and later on of an acute sense of uneasiness. The long, dreary
+hours of darkness fed him with reflections that kept him awake most of the
+night, and only his iron will held his hand and nerves steady during the
+days between the black seasons. The theatre palled on him, books failed to
+hold his attention, people annoyed him. He could not concentrate his
+thoughts on study; his mind was forever journeying. What was she doing?
+Every minute of the day he was asking that question of himself. It was in
+the printed pages of the books he read; it was on the lips of every
+lecturer he listened to; it was placarded on every inch of scenery in the
+theatre,--always: "Where is she to-night? What is she doing?"
+
+And then, at last, one cold, rainy night in late November he resumed his
+stealthy journeys to lower Fifth Avenue atop of the stage, protected by a
+thick ulster and hidden as well as he could be in the shelter of a rigidly
+grasped umbrella. Alighting in front of the Brevoort, he slunk rather than
+sauntered up the Avenue until he came to the cross-town street in which
+she lived,--in which he once had lived. It was a fair night for such an
+adventure as this. There were but few people abroad. The rain was falling
+steadily and there was a gusty wind. He had left his club at ten o'clock,
+and all the way down the Avenue he was alone on the upper deck of the
+stage. Afterwards he chuckled guiltily to himself as he recalled the odd
+stare with which the conductor favoured him when he jestingly inquired if
+there was "any room aloft."
+
+Walking down the street toward Sixth Avenue, he peered out from beneath
+the umbrella as he passed his grandfather's house across the way. There
+were lights downstairs. A solitary taxi-cab stood in front of the house.
+He quickened his pace. He did not want to charge himself with spying. A
+feeling of shame and mortification came over him as he hurried along; his
+face burned. He was not acting like a man, but as a love-sick, jealous
+school-boy would have behaved. And yet all the way up Sixth Avenue to
+Fifty-ninth Street,--he walked the entire distance,--he wondered why he had
+not waited to see who came forth from Anne's house to enter the taxi-cab.
+
+For a week he stubbornly resisted the desire to repeat the trip down-town.
+In the meantime, Simmy had developed into a most unsatisfactory informant.
+He suddenly revealed an astonishing streak of uncommunicativeness, totally
+unnatural in him and tantalising in the extreme. He rarely mentioned
+Anne's name and never discussed her movements. Thorpe was obliged to
+content himself with an occasional word from Lutie,--who was also painfully
+reticent,--and now and then a scrap of news in the society columns of the
+newspapers. Once he saw her in the theatre. She was with other people, all
+of whom he knew. One of them was Percy Wintermill. He began on that night
+to hate Wintermill. The scion of the Wintermill family sat next to Anne
+and there was nothing in his manner to indicate that he had resigned
+himself to defeat in the lists.
+
+If Anne saw him she did not betray the fact. He waited outside for a
+fairer glimpse of her as she left the theatre. What he saw at close range
+from his carefully chosen position was not calculated to relieve his mind.
+She appeared to be quite happy. There was nothing in her appearance or in
+her manner to indicate that she suffered,--and he _wanted_ her to suffer as
+he was suffering. That night he did not close his eyes.
+
+He had said to her that he would never marry her even though she gave up
+the money she had received from his grandfather, and she had said--how well
+he remembered!--that if George was worth thirty thousand dollars to Lutie,
+which was her _all_,--he was worth two millions to her, and her _all_. She
+was paying for him now, just as Lutie had paid for George, only in Lutie's
+case there was the assurance that the sacrifice would bring its own
+consolation and reward. Anne was going ahead blindly, trusting to an
+uncertainty. She had his word for it that the sacrifice would bring no
+reward through him, and yet she persisted in the vain enterprise. She had
+likened herself, in a sense, to Lutie, and now he was beginning to think
+of himself as he had once thought of George Tresslyn!
+
+He recalled his pitying scorn for the big, once useless boy during that
+long period of dog-like watchfulness over the comings and goings of the
+girl he loved. He had felt sorry for him and yet pleased with him. There
+was something admirable in the stubborn, drunken loyalty of George
+Tresslyn,--a loyalty that never wavered even though there was no such thing
+as hope ahead of him.
+
+As time went on, Thorpe, the sound, sober, indomitable Thorpe,--began to
+encourage himself with the thought that he too might sink to the
+extremities through which George had passed,--and be as simple and as firm
+in his weakness as the other had been! He too might stand in dark places
+and watch, he too might slink behind like a thing in the night. Only in
+his case the conditions would be reversed. He would be fighting conviction
+and not hope, for he knew he had but to walk into Anne's presence and
+speak,--and the suspense would be over. She was waiting for him. It was he
+who would have to surrender, not she.
+
+He fought desperately with himself; the longing to see her, to be near
+her, to test his vaunted self-control, never for an instant subsided. He
+fought the harder because he was always asking himself why he fought at
+all. Why should he not take what belonged to him? Why should he deny
+himself happiness when it was so much to be desired and so easy to obtain?
+
+But always when he was nearest to the breaking point, and the rush of
+feeling was at flood, there crept up beside him the shadow that threatened
+his very existence and hers. He had taken the life of her husband. He had
+no right to her. Down in his heart he knew that there was no moral ground
+for the position he took and from which he could not extricate himself. He
+had committed no crime. There had been no thought of himself in that
+solemn hour when he delivered his best friend out of bondage. Anne had no
+qualms, and he knew her to be a creature of fine feelings. She had always
+revolted against the unlovely aspects of life, and all this despite the
+claim she made that love would survive the most unholy of oppressions.
+What was it then that _he_ was afraid of? What was it that made him hold
+back while love tugged so violently, so persistently at his heart-strings?
+
+At times he had flashes of the thing that created the shadow, and it was
+then that he grasped, in a way, the true cause of his fears. Back of
+everything he realised there was the most uncanny of superstitions. He
+could not throw off the feeling that his grandfather, in his grave, still
+had his hand lifted against his marriage with Anne Tresslyn; that the
+grim, loving old man still regarded himself as a safeguard against the
+connivings of Anne!
+
+His common sense, of course, resisted this singular notion. He had but to
+recall his grandfather's praise of Anne just before he went to his death.
+Surely that signified an altered opinion of the girl, and no doubt there
+was in his heart during those last days of life, a very deep, if puzzled,
+admiration for her. And yet, despite the conviction that his grandfather,
+had he been pressed for a definite statement would have declared himself
+as being no longer opposed to his marriage with Anne, there still remained
+the fact that he had gone to his grave without a word to show that he
+regarded his experiment as a failure. And he had gone to his grave in a
+manner that left no room for doubt that his death was to stand always as
+an obstacle in the path of the lovers. There were times when Braden Thorpe
+could have cursed his grandfather for the cruel cunning to which he had
+resorted in the end.
+
+He could not free himself of the ridiculous, distorted and oft-recurring
+notion that his grandfather was watching him from beyond the grave, nor
+were all his scientific convictions sufficient to dispel the fear that men
+live after death and govern the destinies of those who remain.
+
+But through all of these vain struggles, his love for Anne grew stronger,
+more overpowering. He was hollow-eyed and gaunt, ravenous with the hunger
+of love. A spectre of his former self, he watched himself starve with
+sustenance at hand. Bountiful love lay within his grasp and yet he
+starved. Full, rich pastures spread out before him wherein he could roam
+to the end of his days, blissfully gorging himself,--and yet he starved.
+And Anne, who dwelt in those elysian pastures, was starving too!
+
+Once more he wavered and again he fell. He found himself at midnight
+standing at the corner above Anne's home, staring at the darkened
+unresponsive windows. Three nights passed before he resumed the hateful
+vigil. This time there were lights. And from that time on, he went almost
+nightly to the neighbourhood of Washington Square, regardless of weather
+or inconvenience. He saw her come and go, night after night, and he saw
+people enter the house to which he held a key,--always he saw from obscure
+points of vantage and with the stealth and caution of a malefactor.
+
+He came to realise in course of time that she was not at peace with
+herself, notwithstanding a certain assumption of spiritedness with which
+she fared into the world with others. At first he was deceived by
+appearances, but later on he knew that she was not the happy, interested
+creature she affected to be when adventuring forth in search of pleasure.
+He observed that she tripped lightly down the steps on leaving the house,
+and that she ascended them slowly, wearily, almost reluctantly on her
+return, far in the night. He invariably waited for the lights to appear in
+the shaded windows of her room upstairs, and then he would hurry away as
+if pursued. Once, after roaming the streets for two hours following her
+return to the house, he wended his way back to the spot from which he had
+last gazed at her windows. To his surprise the lights were still burning.
+After that he never left the neighbourhood until he saw that the windows
+were dark, and more often than otherwise the lights did not go out until
+two or three o'clock in the morning. The significance of these nightly
+indications of sleeplessness on her part did not escape him.
+
+Bitterly cold and blustering were some of the nights. He sought warmth and
+shelter from time to time in the near-by cafes, always returning to his
+post when the call became irresistible. It was his practice to go to the
+cheap and lowly cafes, places where he was not likely to be known despite
+his long residence in the community. He did not drink. It had, of course,
+occurred to him that he might find solace in resorting to the cup that
+cheers, but never for an instant was he tempted to do so. He was too
+strong for that!
+
+Curiosity led him one night to the restaurant of Josiah Wade. He did not
+enter, but stood outside peering through the window. It was late at night
+and old Wade was closing the place. A young woman whom Thorpe took to be
+his wife was chatting amiably with a stalwart youth near the cash
+register. He did not fail to observe the furtive, shifty glances that Wade
+shot out from under his bushy eyebrows in the direction of the couple.
+
+He knew, through Simmy, that the last of Templeton Thorpe's money would
+soon pass from Anne's hands. A million and a half was gone. The time for
+the last to go was rapidly approaching. She would soon be poorer than when
+she entered upon the infamous enterprise. There would still remain to her
+the house in which she lived. It was not a part of the purchase price. It
+was outside of the bargain she had made, and the right to sell it was
+forbidden her. But possesion of it was a liability rather than an asset.
+He wondered what she would do when it came down to the house in which she
+lived.
+
+Again and again he apostrophized himself as follows: "My God, what am I
+coming to? Is this madness? Am I as George Tresslyn was, am I no nobler
+than he? Or was he noble in spite of himself, and am I noble in the same
+sense? If I am mad with love, if I am weak and accursed by consequences,
+why should not she be weaker than I? She is a woman. I am--or was--a man.
+Why should I sink to such a state as this and she remain brave and strong
+and resolute? She keeps away from me, why should I not stay away from her?
+God knows I have tried to resist this thing that she resists, and what
+have I come to? A street loafer, a spy, a sneak, a dog without a master.
+She is doing a big thing, and I am doing the smallest thing that man can
+do. She loves me and longs for me and--Oh, what damned madness is it that
+brings me to loving her and longing for her and yet makes of me a thing so
+much less worthy than she?" And so on by the hour, day and night, he
+cursed himself with questions.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The end came swiftly, resistlessly. She paused at the bottom of the steps
+as the automobile slid off into the chill, windy night. For the first time
+in all his vigil, he noted the absence of the footman who always ran up
+the steps ahead of her to open the door. She was alone to-night. This had
+never happened before. Mystified, he saw her slowly ascend the steps and
+pause before the door. Her body drooped wearily. He waited long for her to
+press the electric button which had taken the place of the ancient knob
+that jangled the bell at the far end of the hall. But she remained
+motionless for what seemed to him an interminable time, and then, to his
+consternation, she leaned against the door and covered her face with her
+hands.
+
+A great weight suddenly was lifted from his soul; a vast exaltation drove
+out everything that had been oppressing him for so long. He was free! He
+was free of the thing that had been driving him to death. Joy, so
+overwhelming in its rush that he almost collapsed as it assailed him,
+swept aside every vestige of resistance,--and, paradox of paradoxes,--made a
+man of him! He was a man and he would--But even as his jaw set and his body
+straightened in its old, dominant strength, she opened the door and passed
+into the dim hall beyond.
+
+He was half across the street when the door closed behind her, but he did
+not pause. His hand came from his pocket and in his rigid fingers he held
+the key to his home--and hers.
+
+At the bottom of the steps he halted. The lights in the drawing-room had
+been switched on. The purpose that filled him now was so great that he
+waited long there, grasping the hand rail, striving to temper his new-
+found strength to the gentleness that was in his heart. The fight was
+over, and he had won--the man of him had won. She was in that room where
+the lights were,--waiting for him. The moment was not far off when she
+would be in his arms. He was suffocating with the thought of the nearness
+of it all!
+
+He mounted the steps. As he came to the top, the door was opened and Anne
+stood there in the warm light of the hall,--a slender, swaying figure in
+something rose-coloured and--and her lips were parted in a wondering,
+enchanted smile. She held out her arms to him.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards.
+2. Frontispiece relocated after copyright page.
+3. Table of Contents added.
+4. Typographic errors corrected in original:
+   p. 102 heared to hearted ("loyal, warm-hearted, enduring creature")
+   p. 193 snovel to snivel ("choke and snivel softly")
+   p. 215 unforgetable to unforgettable ("that unforgettable day")
+   p. 439 "Her saw her" to "He saw her" ("He saw her come and go")
+   p. 440 possesion to possession ("possession of it was a liability")
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's From the Housetops, by George Barr McCutcheon
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