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diff --git a/18612-h/18612-h.htm b/18612-h/18612-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..18b773e --- /dev/null +++ b/18612-h/18612-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14428 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of From The Housetops, by George Barr Mccutcheon. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1 {text-align: center; clear: both; font-size: 180%;} + h2 {text-align: center; clear: both; font-size: 120%;} + h3 {text-align: center; clear: both; font-size: 100%;} + table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align: center;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} + hr.full {width:100%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr.major {width:75%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr.minor {width:30%; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; + font-size: 90% } + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +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 & COMPANY</span><br /> +<span style="font-size: 100%;">CHICAGO 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—everything, mind you,—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,—that's how old he is,—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—"</p> + +<p>"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—"</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—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—"</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—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<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—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,—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<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—"</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—"</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,—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—"</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—"</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,—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,—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.</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,—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,—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,—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 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—"</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—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—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—did +he say that he—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—"</p> + +<p>"He honestly, truly said that he loved me?" cried the girl, lifting her +head and drawing a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—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 +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."</p> + +<p>"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—"</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,—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,—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?"<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,—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,—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,—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—"</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—"</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—"</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,—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,—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."</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,—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—"</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,—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.</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,—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—"</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,—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,—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 +<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—"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—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.</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,—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—"</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—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—"</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—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—"</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—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—"</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—"</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,—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—"</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—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—"</p> + +<p>"By gad, sir, it is infamous! Absolutely infamous!" exclaimed young +Thorpe, springing to his feet. "I cannot—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,—scientific charity,—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—"</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—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—"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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—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—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—"</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,—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—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.</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,—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—"</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—"</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—"</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—"</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—"</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—"</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—"</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—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—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."</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—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."</p> + +<p>"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."</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,—I hope,—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,—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—"</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—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—"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Why,—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—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—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 <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—"</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—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,—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—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—sooner than I, I'm sure. You'll find the right girl +and—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—"</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—"</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,—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<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—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—ahem!—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—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—"</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,—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,<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—She opened her eyes quickly.</p> + +<p>"Murray," she said, in a low voice; "you are quite sure that Mr. Braden +is—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—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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"I think not, miss," said he. "He is not expected to be here during +the—er—you might say, the—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,—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,—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—"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,—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—" 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—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.<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—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—at first. +You implied a moment ago that I had arranged for this meeting. Surely +you understand that I—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," she interrupted coldly. "Is your grandfather secreted +somewhere near so that he may be able to enjoy the—"</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—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—I'll fight for you till I get you. I will not stand by and see +you sacrificed, even though you may appear to—"</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—"</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 +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 <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—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,—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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> me +when I say that I love you, and always—"</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—"</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—"</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—"</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—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—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,—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,—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—"</p> + +<p>"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.<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—"</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,—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—"</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—I am hurt, +Braden. Can't you see how you have hurt me? Won't you—"</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,—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—"</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—"<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—"</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—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.</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 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.</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—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—ahem! I beg your pardon. You really startled me. I—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"But, my dear young lady, I'm not the man you want. You ought to go to +some—"</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 naïve 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—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—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—"</p> + +<p>"Why, it's Simmy Dodge," cried Braden. "Are—are you—"</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,—the other two, I +mean. You can't see them for the florist shop in between. They know you +too, so—"</p> + +<p>"May I inquire why one of my friends did not bring you over and +introduce me to you, Miss—er—"</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—you are?" he gasped. "By Jove, I thought that your face was +familiar. I—"</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—"</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—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<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—"</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,—let me see,—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—"</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—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,—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.</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,—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<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,—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,—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,—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,—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."<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,—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—"</p> + +<p>"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."</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—er—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—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—"</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,—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—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.</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—"</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—"</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—"</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—"</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—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.</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;—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—"</p> + +<p>"So you think I am marrying Mr. Thorpe for his money,—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—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—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—"</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—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!"</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,—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—"</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,—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."</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—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—there is but +one word for it—<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—of—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,—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—"<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—"</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—if I've meddled,—if +I've been too—"</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—"</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—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,—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,—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—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—"</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—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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +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."</p> + +<p>"Not so loud, George, for heaven's sake. You don't want all these men in +here to—"</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,—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.<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—"</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,—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<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,—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,—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.</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—"</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—"</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—"</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—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—"</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,—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—"</p> + +<p>Simmy laughed. "Do you call it bravery to choke a woman into submission, +and drag her off to—"</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—"</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,—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,—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,—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,—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.</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—it never occurred to me that—" 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—" 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—until life +wears out?"</p> + +<p>"We are doing everything in our power to alleviate the +suffering,—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,—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,—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,—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,—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—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."</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,—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—"</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,—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."</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—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,—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.</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—"</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—"</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,—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,—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.</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,—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."</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—"</p> + +<p>"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."</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,—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,—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—"</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—I can't tell you how shocked, how grieved I am," he said. "It +is—terrible."</p> + +<p>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<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—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—so terribly?"</p> + +<p>"It has been too horrible,—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—"</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—"</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—it was terrible!" The man's face was livid.</p> + +<p>"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 <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,—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—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—"</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—any one?"</p> + +<p>Wade hesitated. "I'm quite sure he hasn't appealed to any one but me, +sir, except—that is to say—"</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—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,—yes, and cursing her, too,—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—"</p> + +<p>"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—"</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,—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—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,—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<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—"</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,—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—this—"</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—"</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,—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.</p> + +<p>"Did he ask you to—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,—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—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"But, my God, sir, you cannot leave him to die in—"<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—"</p> + +<p>"I refuse!" shouted Braden.</p> + +<p>"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."</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—I shall advise +against it, of course,—you may depend upon me to be with you when +you—"</p> + +<p>"But you have said, Dr. Bates, that you do not believe an operation +would be of—"</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,—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.</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—"</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—"</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,—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<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,—and confident.</p> + +<p>"As I said before, Anne, I see no occasion to—"</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—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—"</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—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,—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—"</p> + +<p>"Anne, Anne!" cried he, shaken. "Don't say it! It is too horrible. Think +of what you were about to say and—"</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—" he began hotly.</p> + +<p>"That is all I want to know," she cried, tremulously. "I have been +dreading the—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—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—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."</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,—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—"</p> + +<p>"Now, Wade, you are guessing," interrupted Braden, with a sinking heart. +"You have no right to surmise—"</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—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."<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—"</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—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"My God, grandfather, you are not going to ask me to—"</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,—well, you will have performed a miracle. You—"</p> + +<p>"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—"</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,—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,—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—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.</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—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—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—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—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—"</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—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"I'm as sober as you are!"</p> + +<p>"More so, I fear. I've had champagne. You—"</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,—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—is it a dance? The papers said it was +a dinner for Lord and Lady—"</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—"</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,—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—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."</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—I wouldn't annoy her for all the world, Simmy," said George, +jerkily. "What do you take me for? What kind of a—"</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—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<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—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,—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,—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."</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—"</p> + +<p>"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.</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—"</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—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.</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,—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—"</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—or her?"</p> + +<p>"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—"</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—"</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—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—" 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—"</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—"</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,—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,—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—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—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—I—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,—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,—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—" 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,—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."<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—"</p> + +<p>"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."</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,—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—"</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—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<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—"</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—"</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—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—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.</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—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,—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—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—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—of—" 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—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,—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."</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—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—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—"</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—" 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 <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—it might be an +inducement to me to—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—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,—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—"<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—"</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—"</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—"</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—"</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,—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,—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—"</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 anæsthetic," said George, in a +half-whisper. "Just died—like that?"</p> + +<p>"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?"</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—even though +Murray did not—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—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—"</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—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—"</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—you look—why, you can't +possibly feel like this about him. What the deuce are—"</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—oh, it is horribly +lonely here in this dreadful house. You—"</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—"</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—" 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,—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—"</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—"</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,—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?"</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—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—since the day before—" 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—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—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—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—"</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—"</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—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,—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—er—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,—and that is to marry Braden as soon as—"</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—"</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—"</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—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,—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—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—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—"</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—" 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—"</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—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—"</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—" 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—"</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—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,—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.</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—"</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—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—"</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—"</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—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—"</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—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—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."</p> + +<p>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—"</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 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!</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,—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.</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,—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.</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,—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<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,—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,—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—"</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—"</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—that she feared I might have—"</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—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.</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—to set her mind at rest about—about <i>you</i>. 'Pon my soul, she +did it neatly, too."</p> + +<p>"And she believes—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—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?"</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—I—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—"</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—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"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—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"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 <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,—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—"</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—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."</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—"</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 anæsthetician saw nothing. He was occupied. That +young fellow—what's his name?—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—"</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—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—"</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—why, he's not that sort—"</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—"</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—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,—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.</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,—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?</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,—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!</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,—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.</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—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—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.</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—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—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—"</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,—temporarily, of course,—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—"</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—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—"</p> + +<p>"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?</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—"</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,—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,—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—"</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—"</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—"<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—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,—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—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."<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,—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,—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,—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,—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,—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,—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—"</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—"</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,—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—"</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,—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.</p> + +<p>"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<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,—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.<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,—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<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,—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—er—I beg pardon, Mrs. Thorpe. You were +saying—?"</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—"</p> + +<p>"My dear Mrs. Thorpe, you must believe me when I say that your +duties,—er—the requirements,—are practically <i>nil</i>. Pray do not +labour under the impression that—"</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—or +perhaps it was indignation—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—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—"</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—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—"<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—"</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—" 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—"</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—"</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,—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.</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—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"Anne!" cried out Braden, incredulously. "You cannot mean it. You—"</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,—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—"</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—"</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>,—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—"</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,—oh, why did you say that to him, +George? Why—"</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—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,—talk about you and Anne. Do you get it +now?"</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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—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—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—"</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—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—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?"</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,—? 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—"</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—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—"</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,—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,—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—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,—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—"</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>,—<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—"</p> + +<p>"No! No! It must not be <i>that</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>"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—"</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,—there by—"<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—"</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—"</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—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—oh, you don't know what you are saying. He—"</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—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!"</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—"</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—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.</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,—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,—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."</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,—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,—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!"</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—"</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—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,—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.</p> + +<p>"May we not forget for a little while?" she said.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"That is why I suggested that we try to forget," she said.</p> + +<p>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.<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—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—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."</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—"<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—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—I hope that we may become friends, Mrs. Thorpe. If that +should come to pass, I—am sure that I could forget."</p> + +<p>"And you will allow me to help—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—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,—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—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 <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—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—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,—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—"</p> + +<p>"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."</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—"</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,—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—"</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—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—"</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,—"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."</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,—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."<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—"</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—"</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—"</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—you do not imagine that I—I—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—"</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—"</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,—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.</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,—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,—my position—"</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—"</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—And, mother, don't overlook the fact that +George is very ill. He may not pull through. He—"</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,—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.</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—"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—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—if you can feel at all—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—"</p> + +<p>"Upon my soul!" exclaimed Mrs. Tresslyn, staring. "Do you presume to—"</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>"—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<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—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"Just a moment, please. I took the money and—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—"</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—"</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—"</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—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—"</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,—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,—or the +temerity, if that is a truer word,—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,—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,—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,—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—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.</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—"</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,—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—"</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—"</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—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—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—nothing at all," muttered the other. "The heat up there in the +woods—"</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—"</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?—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—"</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—"</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—"</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,—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.<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,—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—"</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—"</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,—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—"</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—"</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,—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—"</p> + +<p>"'Gad, my grandfather wouldn't like that," said Braden. "He was fond of +Murray and Wade and—"</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,—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."</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—are you +going to close it—for good,—madam?"</p> + +<p>"I sent for you this morning to inquire if you are willing to continue +living there as caretaker until—"</p> + +<p>"You may depend on me, Mrs. Thorpe, to—" he broke in eagerly.</p> + +<p>"—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—"</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,—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,—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."</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—that you will stay on until you die?"</p> + +<p>"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?"</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—er—be regarded as a—"</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—"</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—"</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—" 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,—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,<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,—the unnecessary things, as +she had been pleased to describe them.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</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—What you want, Lutie, is a specialist. +Braden is—"</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,—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.</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—"</p> + +<p>"You—but, mother, can you afford to do anything so—"</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—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—"</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—"</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—say within a day +or two—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—"</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,—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—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<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—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,—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?"</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,—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,<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—"</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—"</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,—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—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—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—Ah, perhaps that is Percy now."</p> + +<p>But it was not Percy,—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—dear me, what is it, Anne? Has anything happened—"</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—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—why, he would lend him money as long as his own lasted. +He—"</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—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."</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—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—why, think of small-pox and diphtheria and +scarlet fever! Those diseases—"</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—"</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,—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—"</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—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—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."</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,—one of the most talked-of men in the country. It would—"<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—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—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—"</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,—an hour, do you get +that?—biting everything but food, and—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"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—"</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—"</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,—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—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,—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!</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—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<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,—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—" 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."</p> + +<p>"But if he fails, Lutie,—if he fails don't you see what the papers will +say? They will crush him to—"</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—"</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,—failing to hit it by several feet,—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,—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—"</p> + +<p>The door-bell rang.</p> + +<p>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?"</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—" 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,—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,—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—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"Nothing—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—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,—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—<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—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—well, at least I will not say <i>that</i>, +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."</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,—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—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—"</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—"</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—" 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."<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,—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,—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 <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—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,—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—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.</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—"</p> + +<p>"Has he come out of the ether, Simmy?"</p> + +<p>"What say?"</p> + +<p>"Is he conscious? Has the ether—"</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—let's see what time is it now? +Six-fourteen. Nearly an hour and a quarter. They all say—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"Where is he now?"</p> + +<p>"Last I heard of him he was back in his room with the house doctor +and—"</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 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.</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,—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—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"Go home, Percy," she said. "I'm going out,—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,—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—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—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—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—" 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—"</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,—that glorious, adorable, ineffably +feminine creation,—in his arms,—in his arms,—</p> + +<p>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.</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—"</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—" 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—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—I might have +accepted him. Is that it?"</p> + +<p>"I—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—"</p> + +<p>"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.</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—"</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—I could—"</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—"</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—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?"</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,—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,—it makes it worse," he groaned.</p> + +<p>"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<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,—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."</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,—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—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—have you +ever thought that he may have held you out as a prize—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—it may have been that he was pleading your cause, that—"</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—" 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,—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,—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.</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,—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—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,—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,—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—"</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 débutante 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—still paying up for <i>us</i>? Good heavens, mamma! Why, we couldn't +have got you into debt to that—"</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—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—"<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,—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?"</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,—I love you dearly. I want you to let me love you. You +are so hard to get close to,—so hard to—"</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—"</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,—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,—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,—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.</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—"</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—well, you see, I was going past +so I thought I'd stop in and—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,—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,—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,—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,—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—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."</p> + +<p>"Is Braden well? Does he look fit, Simmy? You know there will be great +hardships, vile weather, exposure—"</p> + +<p>"He's thin and—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—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—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—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—"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" whispered Anne, her own eyes glistening. "You are an angel, +Simmy. You—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"You—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—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,—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,"—he leaned forward and spoke very +seriously,—"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,—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.</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—"</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—but, of course, that was nonsense. There is no reason why I +shouldn't live in the house, Georgie. It is—"</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,—how well she remembered the old-fashioned bell at the end of +the hall!—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—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—what if +he's dead in—"</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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—" 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—" She +shuddered. "He may have been dead for days."</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> +have fallen or—Look! Why,—can <i>that</i> 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.</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,—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.</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,—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—"</p> + +<p>"Wade," cried out Mrs. Thorpe, "is it really you?"</p> + +<p>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.</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,—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—long service, you would say at a glance.</p> + +<p>"Sorry to keep you waiting, ma'am, but—" 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—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—"</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—I can't give you an answer just at this +moment, Mrs. Thorpe. It may be a few days before I—" 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,—who was not in the slightest sense sorry. Wade +sometimes gave her the creeps.</p> + +<p>"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 <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—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—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—"</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—"</p> + +<p>Wade's eyes grew a little wider. "Is it possible, madam, that you failed +to recognise the—er—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—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—"</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,—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.<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—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,—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—"</p> + +<p>"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,—"</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—"</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—"</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,—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—"</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—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—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—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,—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—"</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"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."</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—"</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—er—advising her to name an earlier day than the seventeenth, I—"</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—"</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—"</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,—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—"</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—I couldn't +help noticing it as I—"</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—isn't he coming back to America?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>hopeful</i> 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."</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 +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.</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—"</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,—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.<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—centuries, no doubt,—the +world will think as I do now. Thank you, gentlemen, for your courtesy +in—"</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,—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—"</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,—or what do you say to skipping out +to the San Francisco fair for a few—"<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,—and that's what +hurts. They—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—"</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,—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."</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—"</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,—down there in the old—"</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,—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—"</p> + +<p>"Is she living there—alone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. New lot of servants and—By the way, old Wade has—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,—spats and chamois +gloves and silk hats,—cleared out three weeks ago for a +honeymoon,—rather pretty girl, by the way,—"</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—"</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—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.</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—"</p> + +<p>"Don't try to argue the—"</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"Stop that, Simmy!"</p> + +<p>"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<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—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,'—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<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—"</p> + +<p>"I shall not marry any one else," said Thorpe, almost fiercely.</p> + +<p>"—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,—God knows how +terribly I want her,—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,—and she will suffer, too, in doing +so. But what's that to Anne? She—"</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,—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."</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—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—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—all for my own? Do you—"</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—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—"</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—"</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,—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—"</p> + +<p>"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?"</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—" He stopped short near +the door, and faced his friend. His hands were clenched.</p> + +<p>"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."</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,—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,—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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>He saw her hand go swiftly to her heart.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"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—"</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—"</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—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—"</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,—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—"</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—"</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—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—"</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,—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,—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."</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—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—"</p> + +<p>"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 <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—"</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,—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—"</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,—come back, I mean,—and—" 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,—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—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—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—"</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—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—"<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—"</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—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."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that I could ever find happiness in this house—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,—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,—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—"</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,—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—"</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,—oh, my dearest!—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,—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."</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,—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—"</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—everything, mind you,—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—"</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,—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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</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—"</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,—sensibly,—if I were inclined to do so? +What could I do with it? Throw it away? Destroy it? Burn—"</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—well, you see what we have come +to."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Anne, Anne—" 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—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—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you would be honest enough to marry me—<i>then</i>," she cried out +bitterly. "Your sense of honour would attend to all that. You—"</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—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—"</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—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 <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,—please go,—and do not come here again until—" 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,—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—how can I congratulate you? My Lord, girl—"</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,—her own rooms,—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,—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,—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.</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,—stark, raving +crazy. You must not let her do this—"</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—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 <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,—absolutely, irrevocably, +positively. Is that plain enough for you? Absolutely, irrev—"</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,—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—or torium—as +soon as we can get hold of—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—"</p> + +<p>"Say—it—again," chattered Simmy. "Let go! How the dickens can I say +anything with you mauling me all over the—"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>is</i> a difference. I didn't <i>earn</i> 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!<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—"</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,—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 <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—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"Anne Thorpe, if you please."</p> + +<p>"She <i>hates</i>—do you hear?—<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—all of them and more. She sold me out, +and she hates the price she received. It is something deeper with her +than mere—"</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—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?"</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—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—"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—I will be honest with you,—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—"</p> + +<p>"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.</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—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—"</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—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—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—well, that's just what it will come to—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—"</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—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,—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,—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."</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,—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.</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,—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,—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,—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.</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,—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.</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,—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—how +well he remembered!—that if George was worth thirty thousand dollars to +Lutie, which was her <i>all</i>,—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,—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,—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.<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,—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,—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 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!</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—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.</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,—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.</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—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—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!</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,—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.</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/> + p. 102 heared to hearted ("loyal, warm-hearted, enduring creature")<br/> + p. 193 snovel to snivel ("choke and snivel softly")<br/> + p. 215 unforgetable to unforgettable ("that unforgettable day")<br/> + p. 439 "Her saw her" to "He saw her" ("He saw her come and go")<br/> + 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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FROM THE HOUSETOPS *** + +***** This file should be named 18612-h.htm or 18612-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/6/1/18612/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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