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diff --git a/old/wc04v10.txt b/old/wc04v10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dbc3940 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wc04v10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5514 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Dwelling Place of Light, V3, +#4 in our series by this Winston Churchill + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.06/12/01*END* +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +This etext was produced by Pat Castevans <Patcat@ctnet.net> +and David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + + + +NOTE: This author is a cousin of Sir Winston Churchill the Prime Minister +of England during World War II. + + + + + +THE DWELLING-PLACE OF LIGHT + +BY WINSTON CHURCHILL + + +VOLUME 3. + + +CHAPTER XV + +Occasionally the art of narrative may be improved by borrowing the method +of the movies. Another night has passed, and we are called upon to +imagine the watery sunlight of a mild winter afternoon filtering through +bare trees on the heads of a multitude. A large portion of Hampton +Common is black with the people of sixteen nationalities who have +gathered there, trampling down the snow, to listen wistfully and eagerly +to a new doctrine of salvation. In the centre of this throng on the +bandstand--reminiscent of concerts on sultry, summer nights--are the +itinerant apostles of the cult called Syndicalism, exhorting by turns in +divers tongues. Antonelli had spoken, and many others, when Janet, +impelled by a craving not to be denied, had managed to push her way +little by little from the outskirts of the crowd until now she stood +almost beneath the orator who poured forth passionate words in a language +she recognized as Italian. Her curiosity was aroused, she was unable to +classify this tall man whose long and narrow face was accentuated by a +pointed brown beard, whose lips gleamed red as he spoke, whose slim hands +were eloquent. The artist as propagandist--the unsuccessful artist with +more facility than will. The nose was classic, and wanted strength; the +restless eyes that at times seemed fixed on her were smouldering windows +of a burning house: the fire that stirred her was also consuming him. +Though he could have been little more than five and thirty, his hair was +thinned and greying at the temples. And somehow emblematic of this +physiognomy and physique, summing it up and expressing it in terms of +apparel, were the soft collar and black scarf tied in a flowing bow. +Janet longed to know what he was saying. His phrases, like music, played +on her emotions, and at last, when his voice rose in crescendo at the +climax of his speech, she felt like weeping. + +"Un poeta!" a woman beside her exclaimed. + +"Who is he?" Janet asked. + +"Rolfe," said the woman. + +"But he's an Italian?" + +The woman shrugged her shoulders. "It is his name that is all I know." +He had begun to speak again, and now in English, with an enunciation, a +distinctive manner of turning his phrases new to such gatherings in +America, where labour intellectuals are little known; surprising to +Janet, diverting her attention, at first, from the meaning of his words. +"Labour," she heard, "labour is the creator of all wealth, and wealth +belongs to the creator. The wage system must be abolished. You, the +creators, must do battle against these self-imposed masters until you +shall come into your own. You who toil miserably for nine hours and +produce, let us say, nine dollars of wealth--do you receive it? No, what +is given you is barely enough to keep the slave and the slave's family +alive! The master, the capitalist, seizes the rightful reward of your +labour and spends it on luxuries, on automobiles and fine houses and +women, on food he can't eat, while you are hungry. Yes, you are slaves," +he cried, "because you submit like slaves." + +He waited, motionless and scornful, for the noise to die down. "Since I +have come here to Hampton, I have heard some speak of the state, others +of the unions. Yet the state is your enemy, it will not help you to gain +your freedom. The legislature has shortened your hours,--but why? +Because the politicians are afraid of you, and because they think you +will be content with a little. And now that the masters have cut your +wages, the state sends its soldiers to crush you. Only fifty cents, they +say--only fifty cents most of you miss from your envelopes. What is +fifty cents to them? But I who speak to you have been hungry, I know +that fifty cents will buy ten loaves of bread, or three pounds of the +neck of pork, or six quarts of milk for the babies. Fifty cents will +help pay the rent of the rat-holes where you live." Once more he was +interrupted by angry shouts of approval. "And the labour unions, have +they aided you? Why not? I will tell you why--because they are the +servile instruments of the masters. The unions say that capital has +rights, bargain with it, but for us there can be only one bargain, +complete surrender of the tools to the workers. For the capitalists are +parasites who suck your blood and your children's blood. From now on +there can be no compromise, no truce, no peace until they are +exterminated. It is war." War! In Janet's soul the word resounded like +a tocsin. And again, as when swept along East Street with the mob, that +sense of identity with these people and their wrongs, of submergence with +them in their cause possessed her. Despite her ancestry, her lot was +cast with them. She, too, had been precariously close to poverty, had +known the sordidness of life; she, too, and Lise and Hannah had been +duped and cheated of the fairer things. Eagerly she had drunk in the +vocabulary of that new and terrible philosophy. The master class must be +exterminated! Was it not true, if she had been of that class, that +Ditmar would not have dared to use and deceive her? Why had she never +thought of these things before?... The light was beginning to fade, the +great meeting was breaking up, and yet she lingered. At the foot of the +bandstand steps, conversing with a small group of operatives that +surrounded him, she perceived the man who had just spoken. And as she +stood hesitating, gazing at him, a desire to hear more, to hear all of +this creed he preached, that fed the fires in her soul, urged her +forward. Her need, had she known it, was even greater than that of these +toilers whom she now called comrades. Despite some qualifying reserve +she felt, and which had had to do with the redness of his lips, he +attracted her. He had a mind, an intellect, he must possess stores of +the knowledge for which she thirsted; he appeared to her as one who had +studied and travelled, who had ascended heights and gained the wider view +denied her. A cynical cosmopolitanism would have left her cold, but +here, apparently, was a cultivated man burning with a sense of the +world's wrongs. Ditmar, who was to have led her out of captivity, had +only thrust her the deeper into bondage.... She joined the group, +halting on the edge of it, listening. Rolfe was arguing with a man about +the labour unions, but almost at once she knew she had fixed his +attention. From time to time, as he talked, his eyes sought hers boldly, +and in their dark pupils were tiny points of light that stirred and +confused her, made her wonder what was behind them, in his soul. When he +had finished his argument, he singled her out. + +"You do not work in the mills?" he asked. + +"No, I'm a stenographer--or I was one." + +"And now?" + +"I've given up my place." + +"You want to join us?" + +"I was interested in what you said. I never heard anything like it +before." + +He looked at her intently. + +"Come, let us walk a little way," he said. And she went along by his +side, through the Common, feeling a neophyte's excitement in the +freemasonry, the contempt for petty conventions of this newly achieved +doctrine of brotherhood. "I will give you things to read, you shall be +one of us." + +"I'm afraid I shouldn't understand them," Janet replied. "I've read so +little." + +"Oh, you will understand," he assured her, easily. "There is too much +learning, too much reason and intelligence in the world, too little +impulse and feeling, intuition. Where do reason and intelligence lead +us? To selfishness, to thirst for power-straight into the master class. +They separate us from the mass of humanity. No, our fight is against +those who claim more enlightenment than their fellowmen, who control the +public schools and impose reason on our children, because reason leads to +submission, makes us content with our station in life. The true +syndicalist is an artist, a revolutionist!" he cried. + +Janet found this bewildering and yet through it seemed to shine for her a +gleam of light. Her excitement grew. Never before had she been in the +presence of one who talked like this, with such assurance and ease. And +the fact that he despised knowledge, yet possessed it, lent him glamour. + +"But you have studied!" she exclaimed. + +"Oh yes, I have studied," he replied, with a touch of weariness, "only to +learn that life is simple, after all, and that what is needed for the +social order is simple. We have only to take what belongs to us, we who +work, to follow our feelings, our inclinations." + +"You would take possession of the mills?" she asked. + +"Yes," he said quickly, "of all wealth, and of the government. There +would be no government--we should not need it. A little courage is all +that is necessary, and we come into our own. You are a stenographer, you +say. But you--you are not content, I can see it in your face, in your +eyes. You have cause to hate them, too, these masters, or you would not +have been herein this place, to-day. Is it not so?" + +She shivered, but was silent. + +"Is it not so?" he repeated. "They have wronged you, too, perhaps,--they +have wronged us all, but some are too stupid, too cowardly to fight and +crush them. Christians and slaves submit. The old religion teaches that +the world is cruel for most of us, but if we are obedient and humble we +shall be rewarded in heaven." Rolfe laughed. "The masters approve of +that teaching. They would not have it changed. But for us it is war. +We'll strike and keep on striking, we'll break their machinery, spoil +their mills and factories, and drive them out. And even if we do not win +at once, it is better to suffer and die fighting than to have the life +ground out of us--is it not?" + +"Yes, it is better!" she agreed. The passion in her voice did not escape +him. + +"Some day, perhaps sooner than we think, we shall have the true +Armageddon, the general strike, when the last sleeping toiler shall have +aroused himself from his lethargy to rise up and come into his +inheritance." He seemed to detach himself from her, his eyes became more +luminous. + +"`Like unseen music in the night,'--so Sorel writes about it. They may +scoff at it, the wise ones, but it will come. `Like music in the night!' +You respond to that!" + +Again she was silent. They had walked on, through familiar streets that +now seemed strange. + +"You respond--I can tell," he said. "And yet, you are not like these +others, like me, even. You are an American. And yet you are not like +most of your countrywomen." + +"Why do you say that?" + +"I will tell you. Because they are cold, most of them, and trivial, they +do not feel. But you--you can feel, you can love and hate. You look +calm and cold, but you are not--I knew it when I looked at you, when you +came up to me." + +She did not know whether to resent or welcome his clairvoyance, his +assumption of intimacy, his air of appropriation. But her curiosity was +tingling. + +"And you?" she asked. "Your name is Rolfe, isn't it?" + +He assented. "And yours?" + +She told him. + +"You have been in America long--your family?" + +"Very long," she said. "But you speak Italian, and Rolfe isn't an +Italian name." + +"My father was an Englishman, an artist, who lived in Italy--my mother a +peasant woman from Lombardy, such as these who come to work in the mills. +When she was young she was beautiful--like a Madonna by an old master." + +"An old master?" + +"The old masters are the great painters who lived in Italy four hundred +years ago. I was named after one of them--the greatest. I am called +Leonard. He was Leonardo da Vinci." + +The name, as Rolfe pronounced it, stirred her. And art, painting! It +was a realm unknown to her, and yet the very suggestion of it evoked +yearnings. And she recalled a picture in the window of Hartmann's book- +store, a coloured print before which she used to stop on her way to and +from the office, the copy of a landscape by a California artist. The +steep hillside in the foreground was spread with the misty green of olive +trees, and beyond--far beyond--a snow-covered peak, like some high altar, +flamed red in the sunset. She had not been able to express her feeling +for this picture, it had filled her with joy and sadness. Once she had +ventured to enter and ask its price--ten dollars. And then came a +morning when she had looked for it, and it was gone. + +"And your father--did he paint beautiful pictures, too?" + +"Ah, he was too much of a socialist. He was always away whey I was a +child, and after my mother's death he used to take me with him. When I +was seventeen we went to Milan to take part in the great strike, and +there I saw the soldiers shooting down the workers by the hundreds, +putting them in prison by the thousands. Then I went to live in England, +among the socialists there, and I learned the printer's trade. When I +first came to this country I was on a labour paper in New York, I set up +type, I wrote articles, and once in a while I addressed meetings on the +East Side. But even before I left London I had read a book on +Syndicalism by one of the great Frenchmen, and after a while I began to +realize that the proletariat would never get anywhere through socialism." + +"The proletariat?" The word was new to Janet's ear. + +"The great mass of the workers, the oppressed, the people you saw here +to-day. Socialism is not for them. Socialism--political socialism-- +betrays them into the hands of the master class. Direct action is the +thing, the general strike, war,--the new creed, the new religion that +will bring salvation. I joined the Industrial Workers of the World that +is the American organization of Syndicalism. I went west, to Colorado +and California and Oregon, I preached to the workers wherever there was +an uprising, I met the leaders, Ritter and Borkum and Antonelli and +Jastro and Nellie Bond, I was useful to them, I understand Syndicalism as +they do not. And now we are here, to sow the seed in the East. Come," +he said, slipping his arm through hers, "I will take you to Headquarters, +I will enlist you, you shall be my recruit. I will give you the cause, +the religion you need." + +She longed to go, and yet she drew back, puzzled. The man fired and +fascinated her, but there were reservations, apprehensions concerning +him, felt rather than reasoned. Because of her state of rebellion, of +her intense desire to satisfy in action the emotion aroused by a sense of +wrong, his creed had made a violent appeal, but in his voice, in his +eyes, in his manner she had been quick to detect a personal, sexual note +that disturbed and alarmed her, that implied in him a lack of unity. + +"I can't, to-night," she said. "I must go home--my mother is all alone. +But I want to help, I want to do something." + +They were standing on a corner, under a street lamp. And she averted her +eyes from his glance. + +"Then come to-morrow," he said eagerly. "You know where Headquarters is, +in the Franco-Belgian Hall?" + +"What could I do?" she asked. + +"You? You could help in many ways--among the women. Do you know what +picketing is?" + +"You mean keeping the operatives out of the mills?" + +"Yes, in the morning, when they go to work. And out of the Chippering +Mill, especially. Ditmar, the agent of that mill, is the ablest of the +lot, I'm told. He's the man we want to cripple." + +"Cripple!" exclaimed Janet. + +"Oh, I don't mean to harm him personally." Rolfe did not seem to notice +her tone. "But he intends to crush the strike, and I understand he's +importing scabs here to finish out an order--a big order. If it weren't +for him, we'd have an easier fight; he stiffens up the others. There's +always one man like that, in every place. And what we want to do is to +make him shut down, especially." + +"I see," said Janet. + +"You'll come to Headquarters?" Rolfe repeated. + +"Yes, I'll come, to-morrow," she promised. + +After she had left him she walked rapidly through several streets, not +heeding her direction--such was the driving power of the new ideas he had +given her. Certain words and phrases he had spoken rang in her head, and +like martial music kept pace with her steps. She strove to remember all +that he had said, to grasp its purport; and because it seemed recondite, +cosmic, it appealed to her and excited her the more. And he, the man +himself, had exerted a kind of hypnotic force that partially had +paralyzed her faculties and aroused her fears while still in his +presence: her first feeling in escaping had been one of relief--and then +she began to regret not having gone to Headquarters. Hadn't she been +foolish? In the retrospect, the elements in him that had disturbed her +were less disquieting, his intellectual fascination was enhanced: and in +that very emancipation from cant and convention, characteristic of the +Order to which he belonged, had lain much of his charm. She had +attracted him as a woman, there was no denying that. He, who had studied +and travelled and known life in many lands, had discerned in her, Janet +Bumpus, some quality to make him desire her, acknowledge her as a +comrade! Tremblingly she exulted in the possession of that quality-- +whatever it might be. Ditmar, too, had perceived it! He had not known +how to value it. With this thought came a flaming suggestion--Ditmar +should see her with this man Rolfe, she would make him scorch with the +fires of jealousy. Ditmar should know that she had joined his enemies, +the Industrial Workers of the World. Of the world! Her shackles had +been cast off at last!... And then, suddenly, she felt tired. The +prospect of returning to Fillmore Street, to the silent flat--made the +more silent by her mother's tragic presence--overwhelmed her. The ache +in her heart began to throb again. How could she wait until the dawn of +another day?... + +In the black hours of the morning, with the siren dinning in her ears a +hoarse call to war, Janet leaped from her bed and began to dress. There +is a degree of cold so sharp that it seems actually to smell, and as she +stole down the stairs and out of the door she shivered, assailed by a +sense of loneliness and fear. Yet an insistent voice urged her on, +whispering that to remain at home, inactive, was to go mad; salvation and +relief lay in plunging into the struggle, in contributing her share +toward retribution and victory. Victory! In Faber Street the light of +the electric arcs tinged the snow with blue, and the flamboyant +advertisements of breakfast foods, cigarettes and ales seemed but the +mockery of an activity now unrealizable. The groups and figures +scattered here and there farther down the street served only to +exaggerate its wide emptiness. What could these do, what could she +accomplish against the mighty power of the mills? Gradually, as she +stood gazing, she became aware of a beating of feet upon the snow; over +her shoulder she caught the gleam of steel. A squad of soldiers muffled +in heavy capes and woolen caps was marching along the car-tracks. She +followed them. At the corner of West Street, in obedience to a sharp +command she saw them halt, turn, and advance toward a small crowd +gathered there. It scattered, only to collect again when the soldiers +had passed on. Janet joined them. She heard men cursing the soldiers. +The women stood a little aside; some were stamping to keep warm, and one, +with a bundle in her arms which Janet presently perceived to be a child, +sank down on a stone step and remained there, crouching, resigned. + +"We gotta right to stay here, in the street. We gotta right to live, I +guess." The girl's teeth were chattering, but she spoke with such +vehemence and spirit as to attract Janet's attention. "You worked in the +Chippering, like me--yes?" she asked. + +Janet nodded. The faded, lemon-coloured shawl the girl had wrapped about +her head emphasized the dark beauty of her oval face. She smiled, and +her white teeth were fairly dazzling. Impulsively she thrust her arm +through Janet's. + +"You American--you comrade, you come to help?" she asked. + +"I've never done any picketing." + +"I showa you." + +The dawn had begun to break, revealing little by little the outlines of +cruel, ugly buildings, the great mill looming darkly at the end of the +street, and Janet found it scarcely believable that only a little while +ago she had hurried thither in the mornings with anticipation and joy in +her heart, eager to see Ditmar, to be near him! The sight of two +policemen hurrying toward them from the direction of the canal aroused +her. With sullen murmurs the group started to disperse, but the woman +with the baby, numb with cold, was slow in rising, and one of the +policemen thrust out his club threateningly. + +"Move on, you can't sit here," he said. + +With a lithe movement like the spring of a cat the Italian girl flung +herself between them--a remarkable exhibition of spontaneous +inflammability; her eyes glittered like the points of daggers, and, as +though they had been dagger points, the policeman recoiled a little. The +act, which was absolutely natural, superb, electrified Janet, restored in +an instant her own fierceness of spirit. The girl said something +swiftly, in Italian, and helped the woman to rise, paying no more +attention to the policeman. Janet walked on, but she had not covered +half the block before she was overtaken by the girl; her anger had come +and gone in a flash, her vivacity had returned, her vitality again found +expression in an abundant good nature and good will. She asked Janet's +name, volunteering the information that her own was Gemma, that she was a +"fine speeder" in the Chippering Mill, where she had received nearly +seven dollars a week. She had been among the first to walk out. + +"Why did you walk out?" asked Janet curiously. + +"Why? I get mad when I know that my wages is cut. I want the money--I +get married." + +"Is that why you are striking?" asked Janet curiously. + +"That is why--of course." + +"Then you haven't heard any of the speakers? They say it is for a cause- +-the workers are striking for freedom, some day they will own the mills. +I heard a man named Rolfe yesterday--" + +The girl gave her a radiant smile. + +"Rolfe! It is beautiful, what Rolfe said. You think so? I think so. I +am for the cause, I hate the capitalist. We will win, and get more +money, until we have all the money. We will be rich. And you, why do +you strike?" + +"I was mad, too," Janet replied simply. + +"Revenge!" exclaimed the girl, glittering again. "I understan'. Here +come the scabs! Now I show you." + +The light had grown, but the stores were still closed and barred. Along +Faber Street, singly or in little groups, anxiously glancing around them, +behind them, came the workers who still clung desperately to their jobs. +Gemma fairly darted at two girls who sought the edge of the sidewalk, +seizing them by the sleeves, and with piteous expressions they listened +while she poured forth on them a stream of Italian. After a moment one +tore herself away, but the other remained and began to ask questions. +Presently she turned and walked slowly away in the direction from which +she had come. + +"I get her," exclaimed Gemma, triumphantly. + +"What did you say?" asked Janet. + +"Listen--that she take the bread from our mouths, she is traditore--scab. +We strike for them, too, is it not so? + +It is no use for them to work for wages that starve. We win the strike, +we get good wages for all. Here comes another--she is a Jewess--you try, +you spik." + +Janet failed with the Jewess, who obstinately refused to listen or reply +as the two walked along with her, one on either side. Near West Street +they spied a policeman, and desisted. Up and down Faber Street, +everywhere, the game went on: but the police were watchful, and once a +detachment of militia passed. The picketing had to be done quickly, in +the few minutes that were to elapse before the gates should close. +Janet's blood ran faster, she grew excited, absorbed, bolder as she +perceived the apologetic attitude of the "scabs" and she began to despise +them with Gemma's heartiness; and soon she had lost all sense of surprise +at finding herself arguing, pleading, appealing to several women in turn, +fluently, in the language of the industrial revolution. Some--because +she was an American--examined her with furtive curiosity; others +pretended not to understand, accelerating their pace. She gained no +converts that morning, but one girl, pale, anemic with high cheek bones +evidently a Slav--listened to her intently. + +"I gotta right to work," she said. + +"Not if others will starve because you work," objected Janet. + +"If I don't work I starve," said the girl. + +"No, the Committee will take care of you--there will be food for all. +How much do you get now?" + +"Four dollar and a half." + +"You starve now," Janet declared contemptuously. "The quicker you join +us, the sooner you'll get a living wage." + +The girl was not quite convinced. She stood for a while undecided, and +then ran abruptly off in the direction of West Street. Janet sought for +others, but they had ceased coming; only the scattered, prowling +picketers remained. + +Over the black rim of the Clarendon Mill to the eastward the sky had +caught fire. The sun had risen, the bells were ringing riotously, +resonantly in the clear, cold air. Another working day had begun. + +Janet, benumbed with cold, yet agitated and trembling because of her +unwonted experience of the morning, made her way back to Fillmore Street. +She was prepared to answer any questions her mother might ask; as they +ate their dismal breakfast, and Hannah asked no questions, she longed to +blurt out where she had been, to announce that she had cast her lot with +the strikers, the foreigners, to defend them and declare that these were +not to blame for the misfortunes of the family, but men like Ditmar and +the owners of the mills, the capitalists. Her mother, she reflected +bitterly, had never once betrayed any concern as to her shattered +happiness. But gradually, as from time to time she glanced covertly at +Hannah's face, her resentment gave way to apprehension. Hannah did not +seem now even to be aware of her presence; this persistent apathy filled +her with a dread she did not dare to acknowledge. + +"Mother!" she cried at last. + +Hannah started. "Have you finished?" she asked. + +"Yes." + +"You've b'en out in the cold, and you haven't eaten much." Janet fought +back her tears. "Oh yes, I have," she managed to reply, convinced of the +futility of speech, of all attempts to arouse her mother to a realization +of the situation. Perhaps--though her heart contracted at the thought +perhaps it was a merciful thing! But to live, day after day, in the +presence of that comfortless apathy!... Later in the morning she went +out, to walk the streets, and again in the afternoon; and twice she +turned her face eastward, in the direction of the Franco-Belgian Hall. +Her courage failed her. How would these foreigners and the strange +leaders who had come to organize them receive her, Ditmar's stenographer? +She would have to tell them she was Ditmar's stenographer; they would +find it out. And now she was filled with doubts about Rolfe. Had he +really thought she could be of use to them! Around the Common, in front +of the City Hall men went about their affairs alertly, or stopped one +another to talk about the strike. In Faber Street, indeed, an air of +suppressed excitement prevailed, newsboys were shouting out extras; but +business went on as though nothing had happened to disturb it. There +was, however, the spectacle, unusual at this time of day, of operatives +mingling with the crowd, while policemen stood watchfully at the corners; +a company of soldiers marched by, drawing the people in silence to the +curb. Janet scanned the faces of these idle operatives; they seemed for +the most part either calm or sullen, wanting the fire and passion of the +enthusiasts who had come out to picket in the early hours of the day; she +sought vainly for the Italian girl with whom she had made friends. +Despondency grew in her, a sense of isolation, of lacking any one, now, +to whom she might turn, and these feelings were intensified by the air of +confidence prevailing here. The strike was crushed, injustice and wrong +had triumphed--would always triumph. In front of the Banner office she +heard a man say to an acquaintance who had evidently just arrived in +town:-- + +"The Chippering? Sure, that's running. By to-morrow Ditmar'll have a +full force there. Now that the militia has come, I guess we've got this +thing scotched..." + +Just how and when that order and confidence of Faber Street began to be +permeated by disquietude and alarm, Janet could not have said. Something +was happening, somewhere--or about to happen. An obscure, apparently +telepathic process was at work. People began to hurry westward, a few +had abandoned the sidewalk and were running; while other pedestrians, +more timid, were equally concerned to turn and hasten in the opposite +direction. At the corner of West Street was gathering a crowd that each +moment grew larger and larger, despite the efforts of the police to +disperse it. These were strikers, angry strikers. They blocked the +traffic, halted the clanging trolleys, surged into the mouth of West +Street, booing and cursing at the soldiers whose threatening line of +bayonets stretched across that thoroughfare half-way down toward the +canal, guarding the detested Chippering Mill. Bordering West Street, +behind the company's lodging-houses on the canal, were certain low +buildings, warehouses, and on their roofs tense figures could be seen +standing out against the sky. The vanguard of the mob, thrust on by +increasing pressure from behind, tumbled backward the thin cordon of +police, drew nearer and nearer the bayonets, while the soldiers grimly +held their ground. A voice was heard on the roof, a woman in the front +rank of the mob gave a warning shriek, and two swift streams of icy water +burst forth from the warehouse parapet, tearing the snow from the +cobbles, flying in heavy, stinging spray as it advanced and mowed the +strikers down and drove them like flies toward Faber Street. Screams of +fright, curses of defiance and hate mingled with the hissing of the water +and the noise of its impact with the ground--like the tearing of heavy +sail-cloth. Then, from somewhere near the edge of the mob, came a +single, sharp detonation, quickly followed by another--below the watchmen +on the roof a window crashed. The nozzles on the roof were raised, their +streams, sweeping around in a great semi-circle, bowled down the rioters +below the tell-tale wisps of smoke, and no sooner had the avalanche of +water passed than the policemen who, forewarned, had sought refuge along +the walls, rushed forward and seized a man who lay gasping on the snow. +Dazed, half drowned, he had dropped his pistol. They handeuffed him and +dragged him away through the ranks of the soldiers, which opened for him +to pass. The mob, including those who had been flung down, bruised and +drenched, and who had painfully got to their feet again, had backed +beyond the reach of the water, and for a while held that ground, until +above its hoarse, defiant curses was heard, from behind, the throbbing of +drums. + +"Cossacks! More Cossacks!" + +The cry was taken up by Canadians, Italians, Belgians, Poles, Slovaks, +Jews, and Syrians. The drums grew louder, the pressure from the rear was +relaxed, the throng in Faber Street began a retreat in the direction of +the power plant. Down that street, now in double time, came three +companies of Boston militia, newly arrived in Hampton, blue-taped, +gaitered, slouch-hatted. From columns of fours they wheeled into line, +and with bayonets at charge slowly advanced. Then the boldest of the +mob, who still lingered, sullenly gave way, West Street was cleared, and +on the wider thoroughfare the long line of traffic, the imprisoned +trolleys began to move again.... + +Janet had wedged herself into the press far enough to gain a view down +West Street of the warehouse roofs, to see the water turned on, to hear +the screams and the curses and then the shots. Once more she caught the +contagious rage of the mob; the spectacle had aroused her to fury; it +seemed ignominious, revolting that human beings, already sufficiently +miserable, should be used thus. As she retreated reluctantly across the +car tracks her attention was drawn to a man at her side, a Slovak. His +face was white and pinched, his clothes were wet. Suddenly he stopped, +turned and shook his fist at the line of soldiers. + +"The Cossack, the politzman belong to the boss, the capitalist!" he +cried. "We ain't got no right to live. I say, kill the capitalist--kill +Ditmar!" + +A man with a deputy's shield ran toward them. + +"Move on!" he said brutally. "Move on, or I'll roil you in." And Janet, +once clear of the people, fled westward, the words the foreigner had +spoken ringing in her ears. She found herself repeating them aloud, +"Kill Ditmar!" as she hurried through the gathering dusk past the power +house with its bottle-shaped chimneys, and crossed the little bridge over +the stream beside the chocolate factory. She gained the avenue she had +trod with Eda on that summer day of the circus. Here was the ragpicker's +shop, the fence covered with bedraggled posters, the deserted grand-stand +of the base-ball park spread with a milky-blue mantle of snow; and +beyond, the monotonous frame cottages all built from one model. Now she +descried looming above her the outline of Torrey's Hill blurred and +melting into a darkening sky, and turned into the bleak lane where stood +the Franco-Belgian Hall--Hampton Headquarters of the Industrial Workers +of the World. She halted a moment at sight of the crowd of strikers +loitering in front of it, then went on again, mingling with them +excitedly beside the little building. Its lines were simple and +unpretentious, and yet it had an exotic character all its own, differing +strongly from the surrounding houses: it might have been transported from +a foreign country and set down here. As the home of that odd, +cooperative society of thrifty and gregarious Belgians it had stimulated +her imagination, and once before she had gazed, as now, through the +yellowed, lantern-like windows of the little store at the women and +children waiting to fill their baskets with the day's provisions. In the +middle of the building was an entrance leading up to the second floor. +Presently she gathered the courage to enter. Her heart was pounding as +she climbed the dark stairs and thrust open the door, and she stood a +moment on the threshold almost choked by the fumes of tobacco, bewildered +by the scene within, confused by the noise. Through a haze of smoke she +beheld groups of swarthy foreigners fiercely disputing among themselves-- +apparently on the verge of actual combat, while a sprinkling of silent +spectators of both sexes stood at the back of the hall. At the far end +was a stage, still set with painted, sylvan scenery, and seated there, +alone, above the confusion and the strife, with a calmness, a detachment +almost disconcerting, was a stout man with long hair and a loose black +tie. He was smoking a cigar and reading a newspaper which he presently +flung down, taking up another from a pile on the table beside him. +Suddenly one of the groups, shouting and gesticulating, surged toward him +and made an appeal through their interpreter. He did not appear to be +listening; without so much as lowering his newspaper he spoke a few words +in reply, and the group retired, satisfied. By some incomprehensible +power he dominated. Panting, fascinated, loath to leave yet fearful, +Janet watched him, breathing now deeply this atmosphere of smoke, of +strife, and turmoil. She found it grateful, for the strike, the battle +was in her own soul as well. Momentarily she had forgotten Rolfe, who +had been in her mind as she had come hither, and then she caught sight of +him in a group in the centre of the hall. He saw her, he was making his +way toward her, he was holding her hands, looking down into her face with +that air of appropriation, of possession she remembered. But she felt no +resentment now, only a fierce exultation at having dared. + +"You've come to join us!" he exclaimed. "I thought I'd lost you." + +He bent closer to her that she might hear. + +"We are having a meeting of the Committee," he said, and she smiled. +Despite her agitation, this struck her as humorous. And Rolfe smiled +back at her. "You wouldn't think so, but Antonelli knows how to manage +them. He is a general. Come, I will enlist you, you shall be my +recruit." + +"But what can I do?" she asked. + +"I have been thinking. You said you were a stenographer--we need +stenographers, clerks. You will not be wasted. Come in here." + +Behind her two box-like rooms occupying the width of the building had +been turned into offices, and into one of these Rolfe led her. Men and +women were passing in and out, while in a corner a man behind a desk sat +opening envelopes, deftly extracting bills and post-office orders and +laying them in a drawer. On the wall of this same room was a bookcase +half filled with nondescript volumes. + +"The Bibliotheque--that's French for the library of the Franco-Belgian +Cooperative Association," explained Rolfe. "And this is Comrade Sanders. +Sanders is easier to say than Czernowitz. Here is the young lady I told +you about, who wishes to help us--Miss Bumpus." + +Mr. Sanders stopped counting his money long enough to grin at her. + +"You will be welcome," he said, in good English. "Stenographers are +scarce here. When can you come?" + +"To-morrow morning," answered Janet. + +"Good," he said. "I'll have a machine for you. What kind do you use?" + +She told him. Instinctively she took a fancy to this little man, whose +flannel shirt and faded purple necktie, whose blue, unshaven face and +tousled black hair seemed incongruous with an alert, business-like, and +efficient manner. His nose, though not markedly Jewish, betrayed in him +the blood of that vital race which has triumphantly survived so many +centuries of bondage and oppression. + +"He was a find, Czernowitz--he calls himself Sanders," Rolfe explained, +as they entered the hall once more. "An Operative in the Patuxent, +educated himself, went to night school--might have been a capitalist like +so many of his tribe if he hadn't loved humanity. You'll get along with +him." + +"I'm sure I shall," she replied. + +Rolfe took from his pocket a little red button with the letters I.W.W. +printed across it. He pinned it, caressingly, on her coat. + +"Now you are one of us!" he exclaimed. "You'll come to-morrow?" + +"I'll come to-morrow," she repeated, drawing away from him a little. + +"And--we shall be friends?" + +She nodded. "I must go now, I think." + +"Addio!" he said. "I shall look for you. For the present I must remain +here, with the Committee." + +When Janet reached Faber Street she halted on the corner of Stanley to +stare into the window of the glorified drugstore. But she gave no heed +to the stationery, the cameras and candy displayed there, being in the +emotional state that reduces to unreality objects of the commonplace, +everyday world. Presently, however, she became aware of a man standing +beside her. + +"Haven't we met before?" he asked. "Or--can I be mistaken?" + +Some oddly familiar quizzical note in his voice stirred, as she turned to +him, a lapsed memory. The hawklike yet benevolent and illuminating look +he gave her recalled the man at Silliston whom she had thought a +carpenter though he was dressed now in a warm suit of gray wool, and wore +a white, low collar. + +"In Silliston!" she exclaimed. "Why--what are you doing here?" + +"Well--this instant I was just looking at those notepapers, wondering +which I should choose if I really had good taste. But it's very +puzzling--isn't it?--when one comes from the country. Now that saffron +with the rough edges is very--artistic. Don't you think so?" + +She looked at him and smiled, though his face was serious. + +"You don't really like it, yourself," she informed him. + +"Now you're reflecting on my taste," he declared. + +"Oh no--it's because I saw the fence you were making. Is it finished +yet?" + +"I put the last pineapple in place the day before Christmas. Do you +remember the pineapples?" + +She nodded. "And the house? and the garden?" + +"Oh, those will never be finished. I shouldn't have anything more to +do." + +"Is that--all you do?" she asked. + +"It's more important than anything else. But you have you been back to +Silliston since I saw you? I've been waiting for another call." + +"You haven't even thought of me since," she was moved to reply in the +same spirit. + +"Haven't I?" he exclaimed. "I wondered, when I came up here to Hampton, +whether I mightn't meet you--and here you are! Doesn't that prove it?" + +She laughed, somewhat surprised at the ease with which he had diverted +her, drawn her out of the tense, emotional mood in which he had +discovered her. As before, he puzzled her, but the absence of any +flirtatious suggestion in his talk gave her confidence. He was just +friendly. + +"Sometimes I hoped I might see you in Hampton," she ventured. + +"Well, here I am. I heard the explosion, and came." + +"The explosion! The strike!" she exclaimed; suddenly enlightened. "Now +I remember! You said something about Hampton being nitro-glycerine-- +human nitro-glycerine. You predicted this strike." + +"Did I? perhaps I did," he assented. "Maybe you suggested the idea." + +"I suggested it! Oh no, I didn't--it was new to me, it frightened me at +the time, but it started me thinking about a lot of things that had never +occurred to me." + +"You might have suggested the idea without intending to, you know. There +are certain people who inspire prophecies--perhaps you are one." + +His tone was playful, but she was quick to grasp at an inference--since +his glance was fixed on the red button she wore. + +"You meant that I would explode, too!" + +"Oh no--nothing so terrible as that," he disclaimed. "And yet most of us +have explosives stored away inside of us--instincts, impulses and all +that sort of thing that won't stand too much bottling-up." + +"Yes, I've joined the strike." She spoke somewhat challengingly, though +she had an uneasy feeling that defiance was somewhat out of place with +him. "I suppose you think it strange, since I'm not a foreigner and +haven't worked in the mills. But I don't see why that should make any +difference if you believe that the workers haven't had a chance." + +"No difference," he agreed, pleasantly, "no difference at all." + +"Don't you sympathize with the strikers?" she insisted. "Or--are you on +the other side, the side of the capitalists?" + +"I? I'm a spectator--an innocent bystander." + +"You don't sympathize with the workers?" she cried. + +"Indeed I do. I sympathize with everybody." + +"With the capitalists?" + +"Why not?" + +"Why not? Because they've had everything their own way, they've +exploited the workers, deceived and oppressed them, taken all the +profits." She was using glibly her newly acquired labour terminology. + +"Isn't that a pretty good reason for sympathizing with them?" he +inquired. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Well, I should think it might be difficult to be happy and have done all +that. At any rate, it isn't my notion of happiness. Is it yours?" + +For a moment she considered this. + +"No--not exactly," she admitted. "But they seem happy," she insisted +vehemently, "they have everything they want and they do exactly as they +please without considering anybody except themselves. What do they care +how many they starve and make miserable? You--you don't know, you can't +know what it is to be driven and used and flung away!" + +Almost in tears, she did not notice his puzzled yet sympathetic glance. + +"The operatives, the workers create all the wealth, and the capitalists +take it from them, from their wives and children." + +"Now I know what you've been doing," he said accusingly. "You've been +studying economics." + +Her brow puckered. + +"Studying what?" + +"Economics--the distribution of wealth. It's enough to upset anybody." + +"But I'm not upset," she insisted, smiling in spite of herself at his +comical concern. + +"It's very exciting. I remember reading a book once on economics and +such things, and I couldn't sleep for a week. It was called `The +Organization of Happiness,' I believe, and it described just how the +world ought to be arranged--and isn't. I thought seriously of going to +Washington and telling the President and Congress about it." + +"It wouldn't have done any good," said Janet. + +"No, I realized that." + +"The only thing that will do any good is to strike and keep on striking +until the workers own the mills--take everything away from the +capitalists." + +"It's very simple," he agreed, "much simpler than the book I read. +That's what they call syndicalism, isn't it?" + +"Yes." She was conscious of his friendliness, of the fact that his +skepticism was not cynical, yet she felt a strong desire to convince him, +to vindicate her new creed. "There's a man named Rolfe, an educated man +who's lived in Italy and England, who explains it wonderfully. He's one +of the I.W.W. leaders--you ought to hear him." + +"Rolfe converted you? I'll go to hear him." + +"Yes--but you have to feel it, you have to know what it is to be kept +down and crushed. If you'd only stay here awhile " + +"Oh, I intend to," he replied. + +She could not have said why, but she felt a certain relief on hearing +this. + +"Then you'll see for yourself!" she cried. "I guess that's what you've +come for, isn't it?" + +"Well, partly. To tell the truth, I've come to open a restaurant." + +"To open a restaurant!" Somehow she was unable to imagine him as the +proprietor of a restaurant. "But isn't it rather a bad time?" she +gasped. + +"I don't look as if I had an eye for business--do I? But I have. No, +it's a good time--so many people will be hungry, especially children. +I'm going to open a restaurant for children. Oh, it will be very modest, +of course--I suppose I ought to call it a soup kitchen." + +"Oh!" she exclaimed, staring at him. "Then you really--" the sentence +remained unfinished. "I'm sorry," she said simply. "You made me +think--" + +"Oh, you mustn't pay any attention to what I say. Come 'round and see my +establishment, Number 77 Dey Street, one flight up, no elevator. Will +you?" + +She laughed tremulously as he took her hand. + +"Yes indeed, I will," she promised. And she stood awhile staring after +him. She was glad he had come to Hampton, and yet she did not even know +his name. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +She had got another place--such was the explanation of her new activities +Janet gave to Hannah, who received it passively. And the question +dreaded about Ditmar was never asked. Hannah had become as a child, +performing her tasks by the momentum of habituation, occasionally talking +simply of trivial, every-day affairs, as though the old life were going +on continuously. At times, indeed, she betrayed concern about Edward, +wondering whether he were comfortable at the mill, and she washed and +darned the clothes he sent home by messenger. She hoped he would not +catch cold. Her suffering seemed to have relaxed. It was as though the +tortured portion of her brain had at length been seared. To Janet, her +mother's condition when she had time to think of it--was at once a relief +and a new and terrible source of anxiety. + +Mercifully, however, she had little leisure to reflect on that tragedy, +else her own sanity might have been endangered. As soon as breakfast was +over she hurried across the city to the Franco-Belgian Hall, and often +did not return until nine o'clock at night, usually so tired that she +sank into bed and fell asleep. For she threw herself into her new +labours with the desperate energy that seeks forgetfulness, not daring to +pause to think about herself, to reflect upon what the future might hold +for her when the strike should be over. Nor did she confine herself to +typewriting, but, as with Ditmar, constantly assumed a greater burden of +duty, helping Czernowitz--who had the work of five men--with his +accounts, with the distribution of the funds to the ever-increasing +number of the needy who were facing starvation. The money was paid out +to them in proportion to the size of their families; as the strike became +more and more effective their number increased until many mills had +closed; other mills, including the Chippering, were still making a +desperate attempt to operate their looms, and sixteen thousand operatives +were idle. She grew to know these operatives who poured all day long in +a steady stream through Headquarters; she heard their stories, she +entered into their lives, she made decisions. Some, even in those early +days of the strike, were frauds; were hiding their savings; but for the +most part investigation revealed an appalling destitution, a resolution +to suffer for the worker's cause. A few complained, the majority were +resigned; some indeed showed exaltation and fire, were undaunted by the +task of picketing in the cold mornings, by the presence of the soldiery. +In this work of dealing with the operatives Janet had the advice and help +of Anna Mower, a young woman who herself had been a skilled operative in +the Clarendon Mill, and who was giving evidence of unusual qualities of +organization and leadership. Anna, with no previous practise in oratory, +had suddenly developed the gift of making speeches, the more effective +with her fellow workers because unstudied, because they flowed directly +out of an experience she was learning to interpret and universalize. +Janet, who heard her once or twice, admired and envied her. They became +friends. + +The atmosphere of excitement in which Janet now found herself was +cumulative. Day by day one strange event followed another, and at times +it seemed as if this extraordinary existence into which she had been +plunged were all a feverish dream. Hither, to the absurd little solle de +reunion of the Franco-Belgian Hall came notables from the great world, +emissaries from an uneasy Governor, delegations from the Legislature, +Members of the Congress of the United States and even Senators; students, +investigators, men and women of prominence in the universities, magazine +writers to consult with uncouth leaders of a rebellion that defied and +upset the powers which hitherto had so serenely ruled, unchallenged. +Rolfe identified these visitors, and one morning called her attention to +one who he said was the nation's foremost authority on social science. +Janet possessed all unconsciously the New England reverence for learning, +she was stirred by the sight of this distinguishedlooking person who sat +on the painted stage, fingering his glasses and talking to Antonelli. +The two men made a curious contrast. But her days were full of contrasts +of which her mood exultingly approved. The politicians were received +cavalierly. Toward these, who sought to act as go-betweens in the +conflict, Antonelli was contemptuous; he behaved like the general of a +conquering army, and his audacity was reflected in the other leaders, in +Rolfe, in the Committee itself. + +That Committee, a never-ending source of wonder to Janet, with its nine +or ten nationalities and interpreters, was indeed a triumph over the +obstacles of race and language, a Babel made successful; in a community +of AngloSaxon traditions, an amazing anomaly. The habiliments of the +west, the sack coats and sweaters, the slouch hats and caps, the so- +called Derbies pulled down over dark brows and flashing eyes lent to +these peasant types an incongruity that had the air of ferocity. The +faces of most of them were covered with a blue-black stubble of beard. +Some slouched in their chairs, others stood and talked in groups, +gesticulating with cigars and pipes; yet a keen spectator, after watching +them awhile through the smoke, might have been able to pick out striking +personalities among them. He would surely have noticed Froment, the +stout, limping man under whose white eyebrows flashed a pair of livid +blue and peculiarly Gallic eyes; he held the Belgians in his hand: +Lindtzki, the Pole, with his zealot's face; Radeau, the big Canadian in +the checked Mackinaw; and Findley, the young American-less by any +arresting quality of feature than by an expression suggestive of +practical wisdom. + +Imagine then, on an afternoon in the middle phase of the strike, some +half dozen of the law-makers of a sovereign state, top-hatted and +conventionally garbed in black, accustomed to authority, to conferring +favours instead of requesting them, climbing the steep stairs and pausing +on the threshold of that hall, fingering their watch chains, awaiting +recognition by the representatives of the new and bewildering force that +had arisen in an historic commonwealth. A "debate" was in progress. +Some of the debaters, indeed, looked over their shoulders, but the +leader, who sat above them framed in the sylvan setting of the stage, +never so much as deigned to glance up from his newspaper. A half-burned +cigar rolled between his mobile lips, he sat on the back of his neck, and +yet he had an air Napoleonic; Nietzschean, it might better be said-- +although it is safe to assert that these moulders of American +institutions knew little about that terrible philosopher who had raised +his voice against the "slave morals of Christianity." It was their first +experience with the superman.... It remained for the Canadian, Radeau, +when a lull arrived in the turmoil, to suggest that the gentlemen be +given chairs. + +"Sure, give them chairs," assented Antonelli in a voice hoarse from +speech-making. Breath-taking audacity to certain spectators who had +followed the delegation hither, some of whom could not refrain from +speculating whether it heralded the final scrapping of the machinery of +the state; amusing to cynical metropolitan reporters, who grinned at one +another as they prepared to take down the proceedings; evoking a fierce +approval in the breasts of all rebels among whom was Janet. The +Legislative Chairman, a stout and suave gentleman of Irish birth, +proceeded to explain how greatly concerned was the Legislature that the +deplorable warfare within the state should cease; they had come, he +declared, to aid in bringing about justice between labour and capital. + +"We'll get justice without the help of the state," remarked Antonelli +curtly, while a murmur of approval ran through the back of the hall. + +That was scarcely the attitude, said the Chairman, he had expected. He +knew that such a strike as this had engendered bitterness, there had been +much suffering, sacrifice undoubtedly on both sides, but he was sure, if +Mr. Antonelli and the Committee would accept their services here he was +interrupted. + +Had the mill owners accepted their services? + +The Chairman cleared his throat. + +The fact was that the mill owners were more difficult to get together in +a body. A meeting would be arranged-- + +"When you arrange a meeting, let me know," said Antonelli. + +A laugh went around the room. It was undoubtedly very difficult to keep +one's temper under such treatment. The Chairman looked it. + +"A meeting would be arranged," he declared, with a longsuffering +expression. He even smiled a little. "In the meantime--" + +"What can your committee do?" demanded one of the strike leaders, +passionately--it was Findley. "If you find one party wrong, can your +state force it to do right? Can you legislators be impartial when you +have not lived the bitter life of the workers? Would you arbitrate a +question of life and death? And are the worst wages paid in these mills +anything short of death? Do you investigate because conditions are bad? +or because the workers broke loose and struck? Why did you not come +before the strike?" + +This drew more approval from the rear. Why, indeed? The Chairman was +adroit, he had pulled himself out of many tight places in the Assembly +Chamber, but now he began to perspire, to fumble in his coat tails for a +handkerchief. The Legislature, he maintained, could not undertake to +investigate such matters until called to its attention.... + +Later on a tall gentleman, whom heaven had not blessed with tact, saw fit +to deplore the violence that had occurred; he had no doubt the leaders of +the strike regretted it as much as he, he was confident it would be +stopped, when public opinion would be wholly and unreservedly on the side +of the strikers. + +"Public opinion!" savagely cried Lindtzki, who spoke English with only a +slight accent. "If your little boy, if your little girl come to you and +ask for shoes, for bread, and you say, `I have no shoes, I have no bread, +but public opinion is with us,' would that satisfy you?" + +This drew so much applause that the tall law-maker sat down again with a +look of disgust on his face.... The Committee withdrew, and for many +weeks thereafter the state they represented continued to pay some four +thousand dollars daily to keep its soldiers on the streets of Hampton.... + +In the meanwhile Janet saw much of Rolfe. Owing to his facile command of +language he was peculiarly fitted to draft those proclamations, +bombastically worded in the French style, issued and circulated by the +Strike Committee--appeals to the polyglot army to withstand the pangs of +hunger, to hold out for the terms laid down, assurances that victory was +at hand. Walking up and down the bibliottheque, his hands behind his +back, his red lips gleaming as he spoke, he dictated these documents to +Janet. In the ecstasy of this composition he had a way of shaking his +head slowly from side to side, and when she looked up she saw his eyes +burning, down at her. A dozen times a day, while she was at her other +work, he would come in and talk to her. He excited her, she was divided +between attraction and fear of him, and often she resented his easy +assumption that a tie existed between them--the more so because this +seemed to be taken for granted among certain of his associates. In their +eyes, apparently, she was Rolfe's recruit in more senses than one. It +was indeed a strange society in which she found herself, and Rolfe +typified it. He lived on the plane of the impulses and intellect, +discarded as inhibiting factors what are called moral standards, decried +individual discipline and restraint. And while she had never considered +these things, the spectacle of a philosophy--embodied in him--that +frankly and cynically threw them overboard was disconcerting. He +regarded her as his proselyte, he called her a Puritan, and he seemed +more concerned that she should shed these relics of an ancestral code +than acquire the doctrines of Sorel and Pouget. And yet association with +him presented the allurement of a dangerous adventure. Intellectually he +fascinated her; and still another motive--which she partially disguised +from herself--prevented her from repelling him. That motive had to do +with Ditmar. She tried to put Ditmar from her mind; she sought in +desperation, not only to keep busy, but to steep and lose herself in this +fierce creed as an antidote to the insistent, throbbing pain that lay +ambushed against her moments of idleness. The second evening of her +installation at Headquarters she had worked beyond the supper hour, +helping Sanders with his accounts. She was loath to go home. And when +at last she put on her hat and coat and entered the hall Rolfe, who had +been talking to Jastro, immediately approached her. His liquid eyes +regarded her solicitously. + +"You must be hungry," he said. "Come out with me and have some supper." + +But she was not hungry; what she needed was air. Then he would walk a +little way with her--he wanted to talk to her. She hesitated, and then +consented. A fierce hope had again taken possession of her, and when +they came to Warren Street she turned into it. + +"Where are you going?" Rolfe demanded. + +"For a walk," she said. "Aren't you coming?" + +"Will you have supper afterwards?" + +"Perhaps." + +He followed her, puzzled, yet piqued and excited by her manner, as with +rapid steps she hurried along the pavement. He tried to tell her what +her friendship meant to him; they were, he declared, kindred spirits-- +from the first time he had seen her, on the Common, he had known this. +She scarcely heard him, she was thinking of Ditmar; and this was why she +had led Rolfe into Warren Street they might meet Ditmar! It was possible +that he would be going to the mill at this time, after his dinner! She +scrutinized every distant figure, and when they reached the block in +which he lived she walked more slowly. From within the house came to +her, faintly, the notes of a piano--his daughter Amy was practising. It +was the music, a hackneyed theme of Schubert's played heavily, that +seemed to arouse the composite emotion of anger and hatred, yet of +sustained attraction and wild regret she had felt before, but never so +poignantly as now. And she lingered, perversely resolved to steep +herself in the agony. + +"Who lives here" Rolfe asked. + +"Mr. Ditmar," she answered. + +"The agent of the Chippering Mill?" + +She nodded. + +"He's the worst of the lot," Rolfe said angrily. "If it weren't for him, +we'd have this strike won to-day. He owns this town, he's run it to suit +himself, He stiffens up the owners and holds the other mills in line. +He's a type, a driver, the kind of man we must get rid of. Look at him-- +he lives in luxury while his people are starving." + +"Get rid of!" repeated Janet, in an odd voice. + +"Oh, I don't mean to shoot him," Rolfe declared. "But he may get shot, +for all I know, by some of these slaves he's made desperate." + +"They wouldn't dare shoot him," Janet said. "And whatever he is, he +isn't a coward. He's stronger than the others, he's more of a man." + +Rolfe looked at her curiously. + +"What do you know about him?" he asked. + +"I--I know all about him. I was his stenographer." + +"You! His stenographer! Then why are you herewith us?" + +"Because I hate him!" she cried vehemently. "Because I've learned that +it's true--what you say about the masters--they only think of themselves +and their kind, and not of us. They use us." + +"He tried to use you! You loved him!" + +"How dare you say that!" + +He fell back before her anger. + +"I didn't mean to offend you," he exclaimed. "I was jealous--I'm jealous +of every man you've known. I want you. I've never met a woman like +you." + +They were the very words Ditmar had used! She did not answer, and for a +while they walked along in silence, leaving Warren Street and cutting +across the city until they canoe in sight of the Common. Rolfe drew +nearer to her. + +"Forgive me!" he pleaded. "You know I would not offend you. Come, we'll +have supper together, and I will teach you more of what you have to +know." + +"Where?" she asked. + +"At the Hampton--it is a little cafe where we all go. Perhaps you've +been there." + +"No," said Janet. + +"It doesn't compare with the cafes of Europe--or of New York. Perhaps we +shall go to them sometime, together. But it is cosy, and warm, and all +the leaders will be there. You'll come--yes?" + +"Yes, I'll come," she said.... + +The Hampton was one of the city's second-class hotels, but sufficiently +pretentious to have, in its basement, a "cafe" furnished in the "mission" +style of brass tacks and dull red leather. In the warm, food-scented air +fantastic wisps of smoke hung over the groups; among them Janet made out +several of the itinerant leaders of Syndicalism, loose-tied, debonnair, +giving a tremendous impression of freedom as they laughed and chatted +with the women. For there were women, ranging from the redoubtable +Nellie Bond herself down to those who may be designated as campfollowers. +Rolfe, as he led Janet to a table in a corner of the room, greeted his +associates with easy camaraderie. From Miss Bond he received an +illuminating smile. Janet wondered at her striking good looks, at the +boldness and abandon with which she talked to Jastro or exchanged sallies +across the room. The atmosphere of this tawdry resort, formerly +frequented by shop girls and travelling salesmen, was magically +transformed by the presence of this company, made bohemian, cosmopolitan, +exhilarating. And Janet, her face flushed, sat gazing at the scene, +while Rolfe consulted the bill of fare and chose a beefsteak and French +fried potatoes. The apathetic waiter in the soiled linen jacket he +addressed as "comrade." Janet protested when he ordered cocktails. + +"You must learn to live, to relax, to enjoy yourself," he declared. + +But a horror of liquor held her firm in her refusal. Rolfe drank his, +and while they awaited the beefsteak she was silent, the prey of certain +misgivings that suddenly assailed her. Lise, she remembered, had +sometimes mentioned this place, though preferring Gruber's: and she was +struck by the contrast between this spectacle and the grimness of the +strike these people had come to encourage and sustain, the conflict in +the streets, the suffering in the tenements. She glanced at Rolfe, +noting the manner in which he smoked cigarettes, sensually, as though +seeking to wring out of each all there was to be got before flinging it +down and lighting another. Again she was struck by the anomaly of a +religion that had indeed enthusiasms, sacrifices perhaps, but no +disciplines. He threw it out in snatches, this religion, while relating +the histories of certain persons in the room: of Jastro, for instance, +letting fall a hint to the effect that this evangelist and bliss Bond +were dwelling together in more than amity. + +"Then you don't believe in marriage?" she demanded, suddenly. + +Rolfe laughed. + +"What is it," he exclaimed, "but the survival of the system of property? +It's slavery, taboo, a device upheld by the master class to keep women in +bondage, in superstition, by inducing them to accept it as a decree of +God. + +Did the masters themselves ever respect it, or any other decrees of God +they preached to the slaves? Read history, and you will see. They had +their loves, their mistresses. Read the newspapers, and you will find +out whether they respect it to-day. But they are very anxious to have +you and me respect it and all the other Christian commandments, because +they will prevent us from being discontented. They say that we must be +satisfied with the situation in this world in which God has placed us, +and we shall have our reward in the next." + +She shivered slightly, not only at the ideas thus abruptly enunciated, +but because it occurred to her that those others must be taking for +granted a certain relationship between herself and Rolfe.... But +presently, when the supper arrived, these feelings changed. She was very +hungry, and the effect of the food, of the hot coffee was to dispel her +doubt and repugnance, to throw a glamour over the adventure, to restore +to Rolfe's arguments an exciting and alluring appeal. And with renewed +physical energy she began to experience once more a sense of fellowship +with these free and daring spirits who sought to avenge her wrongs and +theirs. + +"For us who create there are no rules of conduct, no conventions," Rolfe +was saying, "we do not care for the opinions of the middle class, of the +bourgeois. With us men and women are on an equality. It is fear that +has kept the workers down, and now we have cast that off--we know our +strength. As they say in Italy, il mondo e a chi se lo piglia, the world +belongs to him who is bold." + +"Italian is a beautiful language," she exclaimed. + +"I will teach you Italian," he said. + +"I want to learn--so much!" she sighed. + +"Your soul is parched," he said, in a commiserating tone. "I will water +it, I will teach you everything." His words aroused a faint, derisive +echo: Ditmar had wish to teach her, too! But now she was strongly under +the spell of the new ideas hovering like shining, gossamer spirits just +beyond her reach, that she sought to grasp and correlate. Unlike the +code which Rolfe condemned, they seemed not to be separate from life, +opposed to it, but entered even into that most important of its elements, +sex. In deference to that other code Ditmar had made her his mistress, +and because he was concerned for his position and the security of the +ruling class had sought to hide the fact.... Rolfe, with a cigarette +between his red lips, sat back in his chair, regarding with sensuous +enjoyment the evident effect of his arguments. + +"But love?" she interrupted, when presently he had begun to talk again. +She strove inarticulately to express an innate feminine objection to +relationships that were made and broken at pleasure. + +"Love is nothing but attraction between the sexes, the life-force working +in us. And when that attraction ceases, what is left? Bondage. The +hideous bondage of Christian marriage, in which women promise to love and +obey forever." + +"But women--women are not like men. When once they give themselves they +do not so easily cease to love. They--they suffer." + +He did not seem to observe the bitterness in her voice. + +"Ah, that is sentiment," he declared, "something that will not trouble +women when they have work to do, inspiring work. It takes time to change +our ideas, to learn to see things as they are." He leaned forward +eagerly. "But you will learn, you are like some of those rare women in +history who have had the courage to cast off traditions. You were not +made to be a drudge...." + +But now her own words, not his, were ringing in her head--women do not so +easily cease to love, they suffer. In spite of the new creed she had so +eagerly and fiercely embraced, in which she had sought deliverance and +retribution, did she still love Ditmar, and suffer because of him? She +repudiated the suggestion, yet it persisted as she glanced at Rolfe's red +lips and compared him with Ditmar. Love! Rolfe might call it what he +would--the life-force, attraction between the sexes, but it was proving +stronger than causes and beliefs. He too was making love to her; like +Ditmar, he wanted her to use and fling away when he should grow weary. +Was he not pleading for himself rather than for the human cause he +professed? taking advantage of her ignorance and desperation, of her +craving for new experience and knowledge? The suspicion sickened her. +Were all men like that? Suddenly, without apparent premeditation or +connection, the thought of the stranger from Silliston entered her mind. +Was he like that?... Rolfe was bending toward her across the table, +solicitously. "What's the matter?" he asked. + +Her reply was listless. + +"Nothing--except that I'm tired. I want to go home." + +"Not now," he begged. "It's early yet." + +But she insisted.... + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +The next day at the noon hour Janet entered Dey Street. Cheek by jowl +there with the tall tenements whose spindled-pillared porches overhung +the darkened pavements were smaller houses of all ages and descriptions, +their lower floors altered to accommodate shops; while in the very midst +of the block stood a queer wooden building with two rows of dormer +windows let into its high-pitched roof. It bore a curious resemblance to +a town hall in the low countries. In front of it the street was filled +with children gazing up at the doorway where a man stood surveying them-- +the stranger from Silliston. There was a rush toward him, a rush that +drove Janet against the wall almost at his side, and he held up his hands +in mock despair, gently impeding the little bodies that strove to enter. +He bent over them to examine the numerals, printed on pasteboard, they +wore on their breasts. His voice was cheerful, yet compassionate. + +"It's hard to wait, I know. I'm hungry myself," he said. "But we can't +all go up at once. The building would fall down! One to one hundred +now, and the second hundred will be first for supper. That's fair, isn't +it?" + +Dozens of hands were raised. + +"I'm twenty-nine!" + +"I'm three, mister!" + +"I'm forty-one!" + +He let them in, one by one, and they clattered up the stairs, as he +seized a tiny girl bundled in a dark red muffler and set her on the steps +above him. He smiled at Janet. + +"This is my restaurant," he said. + +But she could not answer. She watched him as he continued to bend over +the children, and when the smaller ones wept because they had to wait, he +whispered in their ears, astonishing one or two into laughter. Some +ceased crying and clung to him with dumb faith. And after the chosen +hundred had been admitted he turned to her again. + +"You allow visitors?" + +"Oh dear, yes. They'd come anyway. There's one up there now, a very +swell lady from New York--so swell I don't know what to say to her. Talk +to her for me." + +"But I shouldn't know what to say, either," replied Janet. She smiled, +but she had an odd desire to cry. "What is she doing here?" + +"Oh, thrashing 'round, trying to connect with life--she's one of the +unfortunate unemployed." + +"Unemployed?" + +"The idle rich," he explained. "Perhaps you can give her a job--enlist +her in the I.W.W." + +"We don't want that kind," Janet declared. + +"Have pity on her," he begged. "Nobody wants them--that's why they're so +pathetic." + +She accompanied him up the narrow stairway to a great loft, the bareness +of which had been tempered by draped American flags. From the trusses of +the roof hung improvised electric lights, and the children were already +seated at the four long tables, where half a dozen ladies were supplying +them with enamelled bowls filled with steaming soup. They attacked it +ravenously, and the absence of the talk and laughter that ordinarily +accompany children's feasts touched her, impressed upon her, as nothing +else had done, the destitution of the homes from which these little ones +had come. The supplies that came to Hampton, the money that poured into +Headquarters were not enough to allay the suffering even now. And what +if the strike should last for months! Would they be able to hold out, to +win? In this mood of pity, of anxiety mingled with appreciation and +gratitude for what this man was doing, she turned to speak to him, to +perceive on the platform at the end of the room a lady seated. So +complete was the curve of her back that her pose resembled a letter u set +sidewise, the gap from her crossed knee to her face being closed by a +slender forearm and hand that held a lorgnette, through which she was +gazing at the children with an apparently absorbed interest. This +impression of willowy flexibility was somehow heightened by large, pear- +shaped pendants hanging from her ears, by a certain filminess in her +black costume and hat. Flung across the table beside her was a long coat +of grey fur. She struck an odd note here, presented a strange contrast +to Janet's friend from Silliston, with his rough suit and fine but rugged +features. + +"I'm sorry I haven't a table for you just at present," he was saying. +"But perhaps you'll let me take your order,"--and he imitated the +obsequious attitude of a waiter. "A little fresh caviar and a clear +soup, and then a fish--?" + +The lady took down her lorgnette and raised an appealing face. + +"You're always joking, Brooks," she chided him, "even when you're doing +things like this! I can't get you to talk seriously even when I come all +the way from New York to find out what's going on here." + +"How hungry children eat, for instance?" he queried. + +"Dear little things, it's heartrending!" she exclaimed. "Especially when +I think of my own children, who have to be made to eat. Tell me the +nationality of that adorable tot at the end." + +"Perhaps Miss Bumpus can tell you," he ventured. And Janet, though +distinctly uncomfortable and hostile to the lady, was surprised and +pleased that he should have remembered her name. "Brooks," she had +called him. That was his first name. This strange and sumptuous person +seemed intimate with him. Could it be possible that he belonged to her +class? "Mrs. Brocklehurst, Miss Bumpus." + +Mrs. Brocklehurst focussed her attention on Janet, through the lorgnette, +but let it fall immediately, smiling on her brightly, persuasively. + +"How d'ye do?" she said, stretching forth a slender arm and taking the +girl's somewhat reluctant hand. "Do come and sit down beside me and tell +me about everything here. I'm sure you know--you look so intelligent." + +Her friend from Silliston shot at Janet an amused but fortifying glance +and left them, going down to the tables. Somehow that look of his helped +to restore in her a sense of humour and proportion, and her feeling +became one of curiosity concerning this exquisitely soigneed being of an +order she had read about, but never encountered--an order which her newly +acquired views declared to be usurpers and parasites. But despite her +palpable effort to be gracious perhaps because of it--Mrs. Brocklehurst +had an air about her that was disconcerting! Janet, however, seemed +composed as she sat down. + +"I'm afraid I don't know very much. Maybe you will tell me something, +first." + +"Why, certainly," said Mrs. Brocklehurst, sweetly when she had got her +breath. + +"Who is that man?" Janet asked. + +"Whom do you mean--Mr. Insall?" + +"Is that his name? I didn't know. I've seen him twice, but he never +told me." + +"Why, my dear, do you mean to say you haven't heard of Brooks Insall?" + +"Brooks Insall." Janet repeated the name, as her eyes sought his figure +between the tables. "No." + +"I'm sure I don't know why I should have expected you to hear of him," +declared the lady, repentantly. "He's a writer--an author." And at this +Janet gave a slight exclamation of pleasure and surprise. "You admire +writers? He's done some delightful things." + +"What does he write about?" Janet asked. + +"Oh, wild flowers and trees and mountains and streams, and birds and +humans--he has a wonderful insight into people." + +Janet was silent. She was experiencing a swift twinge of jealousy, of +that familiar rebellion against her limitations. + +"You must read them, my dear," Mrs. Brocklehurst continued softly, in +musical tones. "They are wonderful, they have such distinction. He's +walked, I'm told, over every foot of New England, talking to the farmers +and their wives and--all sorts of people." She, too, paused to let her +gaze linger upon Insall laughing and chatting with the children as they +ate. "He has such a splendid, `out-door' look don't you think? And he's +clever with his hands he bought an old abandoned farmhouse in Silliston +and made it all over himself until it looks as if one of our great-great- +grandfathers had just stepped out of it to shoot an Indian only much +prettier. And his garden is a dream. It's the most unique place I've +ever known." + +Janet blushed deeply as she recalled how she had mistaken him for a +carpenter: she was confused, overwhelmed, she had a sudden longing to +leave the place, to be alone, to think about this discovery. Yet she +wished to know more. + +"But how did he happen to come here to Hampton--to be doing this?" she +asked. + +"Well, that's just what makes him interesting, one never can tell what +he'll do. He took it into his head to collect the money to feed these +children; I suppose he gave much of it himself. He has an income of his +own, though he likes to live so simply." + +"This place--it's not connected with any organization?" Janet ejaculated. + +"That's the trouble, he doesn't like organizations, and he doesn't seem +to take any interest in the questions or movements of the day," Mrs. +Brocklehurst complained. "Or at least he refuses to talk about them, +though I've known him for many years, and his people and mine were +friends. Now there are lots of things I want to learn, that I came up +from New York to find out. I thought of course he'd introduce me to the +strike leaders, and he tells me he doesn't know one of them. Perhaps you +know them," she added, with sudden inspiration. + +"I'm only an employee at Strike Headquarters," Janet replied, stiffening +a little despite the lady's importuning look--which evidently was usually +effective. + +"You mean the I.W.W.?" + +"Yes." + +Meanwhile Insall had come up and seated himself below them on the edge of +the platform. + +"Oh, Brooks, your friend Miss Bumpus is employed in the Strike +Headquarters!" Mrs. Brocklehurst cried, and turning to Janet she went on. +"I didn't realize you were a factory girl, I must say you don't look it." + +Once more a gleam of amusement from Insall saved Janet, had the effect of +compelling her to meet the affair somewhat after his own manner. He +seemed to be putting the words into her mouth, and she even smiled a +little, as she spoke. + +"You never can tell what factory girls do look like in these days," she +observed mischievously. + +"That's so," Mrs. Brocklehurst agreed, "we are living in such +extraordinary times, everything topsy turvy. I ought to have realized-- +it was stupid of me--I know several factory girls in New York, I've been +to their meetings, I've had them at my house--shirtwaist strikers." + +She assumed again the willowy, a position, her fingers clasped across her +knee, her eyes supplicatingly raised to Janet. Then she reached out her +hand and touched the I.W.W. button. "Do tell me all about the +Industrial Workers, and what they believe," she pleaded. + +"Well," said Janet, after a slight pause, "I'm afraid you won't like it +much. Why do you want to know?" + +"Because I'm so interested--especially in the women of the movement. I +feel for them so, I want to help--to do something, too. Of course you're +a suffragist." + +"You mean, do I believe in votes for women? Yes, I suppose I do." + +"But you must," declared Mrs. Brocklehurst, still sweetly, but with +emphasis. "You wouldn't be working, you wouldn't be striking unless you +did." + +"I've never thought about it," said Janet. + +"But how are you working girls ever going to raise wages unless you get +the vote? It's the only way men ever get anywhere--the politicians +listen to them." She produced from her bag a gold pencil and a tablet. +"Mrs. Ned Carfax is here from Boston--I saw her for a moment at the hotel +she's been here investigating for nearly three days, she tells me. I'll +have her send you suffrage literature at once, if you'll give me your +address." + +"You want a vote?" asked Janet, curiously, gazing at the pearl earrings. + +"Certainly I want one." + +"Why?" + +"Why?" repeated Mrs. Brocklehurst. + +"Yes. You must have everything you want." + +Even then the lady's sweet reasonableness did not desert her. She smiled +winningly, displaying two small and even rows of teeth. + +"On principle, my dear. For one reason, because I have such sympathy +with women who toil, and for another, I believe the time has come when +women must no longer be slaves, they must assert themselves, become +individuals, independent." + +"But you?" exclaimed Janet. + +Mrs. Brocklehurst continued to smile encouragingly, and murmured "Yes?" + +"You are not a slave." + +A delicate pink, like the inside of a conch shell, spread over Mrs. +Brocklehurst's cheeks. + +"We're all slaves," she declared with a touch of passion. "It's hard for +you to realize, I know, about those of us who seem more fortunate than +our sisters. But it's true. The men give us jewels and automobiles and +clothes, but they refuse to give us what every real woman craves-- +liberty." + +Janet had become genuinely interested. + +"But what kind of liberty?" + +"Liberty to have a voice, to take part in the government of our country, +to help make the laws, especially those concerning working-women and +children, what they ought to be." + +Here was altruism, truly! Here were words that should have inspired +Janet, yet she was silent. Mrs. Brocklehurst gazed at her solicitously. + +"What are you thinking?" she urged--and it was Janet's turn to flush. + +"I was just thinking that you seemed to have everything life has to give, +and yet--and yet you're not happy." + +"Oh, I'm not unhappy," protested the lady. "Why do you say that?" + +"I don't know. You, too, seem to be wanting something." + +"I want to be of use, to count," said Mrs. Brocklehurst,--and Janet was +startled to hear from this woman's lips the very echo of her own desires. + +Mrs. Brocklehurst's feelings had become slightly complicated. It is +perhaps too much to say that her complacency was shaken. She was, +withal, a person of resolution--of resolution taking the form of +unswerving faith in herself, a faith persisting even when she was being +carried beyond her depth. She had the kind of pertinacity that sever +admits being out of depth, the happy buoyancy that does not require to +feel the bottom under one's feet. She floated in swift currents. When +life became uncomfortable, she evaded it easily; and she evaded it now, +as she gazed at the calm but intent face of the girl in front of her, by +a characteristic inner refusal to admit that she had accidentally come in +contact with something baking. Therefore she broke the silence. + +"Isn't that what you want--you who are striking?" she asked. + +"I think we want the things that you've got," said Janet. A phrase one +of the orators had used came into her mind, "Enough money to live up to +American standards"--but she did not repeat it. "Enough money to be +free, to enjoy life, to have some leisure and amusement and luxury." The +last three she took from the orator's mouth. + +"But surely," exclaimed Mrs. Brocklehurst, "surely you want more than +that!" + +Janet shook her head. + +"You asked me what we believed, the I.W.W., the syndicalists, and I told +you you wouldn't like it. Well, we believe in doing away with you, the +rich, and taking all you have for ourselves, the workers, the producers. +We believe you haven't any right to what you've got, that you've fooled +and cheated us out of it. That's why we women don't care much about the +vote, I suppose, though I never thought of it. We mean to go on striking +until we've got all that you've got." + +"But what will become of us?" said Mrs. Brocklehurst. "You wouldn't do +away with all of us.! I admit there are many who don't--but some do +sympathize with you, will help you get what you want, help you, perhaps, +to see things more clearly, to go about it less--ruthlessly." + +"I've told you what we believe," repeated Janet. + +"I'm so glad I came," cried Mrs. Brocklehurst. "It's most interesting! +I never knew what the syndicalists believed. Why, it's like the French +Revolution--only worse. How are you going to get rid of us? cut our +heads off?" + +Janet could not refrain from smiling. + +"Let you starve, I suppose." + +"Really!" said Mrs. Brocklehurst, and appeared to be trying to visualize +the process. She was a true Athenian, she had discovered some new thing, +she valued discoveries more than all else in life, she collected them, +though she never used them save to discuss them with intellectuals at her +dinner parties. "Now you must let me come to Headquarters and get a +glimpse of some of the leaders--of Antonelli, and I'm told there's a +fascinating man named Rowe." + +"Rolfe," Janet corrected. + +"Rolfe--that's it." She glanced down at the diminutive watch, set with +diamonds, on her wrist, rose and addressed Insall. "Oh dear, I must be +going, I'm to lunch with Nina Carfax at one, and she's promised to tell +me a lot of things. She's writing an article for Craven's Weekly all +about the strike and the suffering and injustice--she says it's been +horribly misrepresented to the public, the mill owners have had it all +their own way. I think what you're doing is splendid, Brooks, only--" +here she gave him an appealing, rather commiserating look--"only I do +wish you would take more interest in--in underlying principles." + +Insall smiled. + +"It's a question of brains. You have to have brains to be a +sociologist," he answered, as he held up for her the fur coat. With a +gesture of gentle reproof she slipped into it, and turned to Janet. + +"You must let me see more of you, my dear," she said. "I'm at the best +hotel, I can't remember the name, they're all so horrible--but I'll be +here until to-morrow afternoon. I want to find out everything. Come and +call on me. You're quite the most interesting person I've met for a long +time--I don't think you realize how interesting you are. Au revoir!" +She did not seem to expect any reply, taking acquiescence for granted. +Glancing once more at the rows of children, who had devoured their meal +in an almost uncanny silence, she exclaimed, "The dears! I'm going to +send you a cheque, Brooks, even if you have been horrid to me--you always +are." + +"Horrid!" repeated Insall, "put it down to ignorance." + +He accompanied her down the stairs. From her willowy walk a +sophisticated observer would have hazarded the guess that her search for +an occupation had included a course of lessons in fancy dancing. + +Somewhat dazed by this interview which had been so suddenly forced upon +her, Janet remained seated on the platform. She had the perception to +recognize that in Mrs. Brocklehurst and Insall she had come in contact +with a social stratum hitherto beyond the bounds of her experience; those +who belonged to that stratum were not characterized by the possession of +independent incomes alone, but by an attitude toward life, a manner of +not appearing to take its issues desperately. Ditmar was not like that. +She felt convicted of enthusiasms, she was puzzled, rather annoyed and +ashamed. Insall and Mrs. Brocklehurst, different though they were, had +this attitude in common.... Insall, when he returned, regarded her +amusedly. + +"So you'd like to exterminate Mrs. Brocklehurst?" he asked. + +And Janet flushed. "Well, she forced me to say it." + +"Oh, it didn't hurt her," he said. + +"And it didn't help her," Janet responded quickly. + +"No, it didn't help her," Insall agreed, and laughed. + +"But I'm not sure it isn't true," she went on, "that we want what she's +got." The remark, on her own lips, surprised Janet a little. She had +not really meant to make it. Insall seemed to have the quality of +forcing one to think out loud. + +"And what she wants, you've got," he told her. + +"What have I got?" + +"Perhaps you'll find out, some day." + +"It may be too late," she exclaimed. "If you'd only tell me, it might +help." + +"I think it's something you'll have to discover for yourself," he +replied, more gravely than was his wont. + +She was silent a moment, and then she demanded: "Why didn't you tell me +who you were? You let me think, when I met you in Silliston that day, +that you were a carpenter. I didn't know you'd written books." + +"You can't expect writers to wear uniforms, like policemen--though +perhaps we ought to, it might be a little fairer to the public," he said. +"Besides, I am a carpenter, a better carpenter than a writer.." + +"I'd give anything to be an author!" she cried. + +"It's a hard life," he assured her. "We have to go about seeking +inspiration from others." + +"Is that why you came to Hampton?" + +"Well, not exactly. It's a queer thing about inspiration, you only find +it when you're not looking for it." + +She missed the point of this remark, though his eyes were on her. They +were not like Rolfe's eyes, insinuating, possessive; they had the +anomalistic quality, of being at once personel and impersonal, friendly, +alight, evoking curiosity yet compelling trust. + +"And you didn't tell me," he reproached her, "that you were at I.W.W. +Headquarters." + +A desire for self-justification impelled her to exclaim: "You don't +believe in Syndicalism--and yet you've come here to feed these children!" + +"Oh, I think I understand the strike," he said. + +"How? Have you seen it? Have you heard the arguments?" + +"No. I've seen you. You've explained it." + +"To Mrs. Brocklehurst?" + +"It wasn't necessary," he replied--and immediately added, in semi-serious +apology: "I thought it was admirable, what you said. If she'd talked to +a dozen syndicalist leaders, she couldn't have had it put more clearly. +Only I'm afraid she doesn't know the truth when she hears it." + +"Now you're making fun of me!" + +"Indeed I'm not," he protested. + +"But I didn't give any of the arguments, any of the--philosophy," she +pronounced the word hesitatingly. "I don't understand it yet as well as +I should." + +"You are it," he said. "It's not always easy to understand what we are-- +it's generally after we've become something else that we comprehend what +we have been." + +And while she was pondering over this one of the ladies who had been +waiting on the table came toward Insall. + +"The children have finished, Brooks," she informed him. "It's time to +let in the others." + +Insall turned to Janet. "This is Miss Bumpus--and this is Mrs. Maturin," +he said. "Mrs. Maturin lives in Silliston." + +The greeting of this lady differed from that of Mrs. Brocklehurst. She, +too, took Janet's hand. + +"Have you come to help us?" she asked. + +And Janet said: "Oh, I'd like to, but I have other work." + +"Come in and see us again," said Insall, and Janet, promising, took her +leave.... + +"Who is she, Brooks?" Mrs. Maturin asked, when Janet had gone. + +"Well," he answered, "I don't know. What does it matter?" + +Mrs. Maturin smiled. + +"I should say that it did matter," she replied. "But there's something +unusual about her--where did you find her?" + +"She found me." And Insall explained. "She was a stenographer, it +seems, but now she's enlisted heart and soul with the syndicalists," he +added. + +"A history?" Mrs. Maturin queried. "Well, I needn't ask--it's written on +her face." + +"That's all I know," said Insall. + +"I'd like to know," said Mrs. Maturin. "You say she's in the strike?" + +"I should rather put it that the strike is in her." + +"What do you mean, Brooks?" + +But Insall did not reply. + +Janet came away from Dey Street in a state of mental and emotional +confusion. The encounter with Mrs. Brocklehurst had been upsetting; she +had an uneasy feeling of having made a fool of herself in Insall's eyes; +she desired his approval;, even on that occasion when she had first met +him and mistaken him for a workman she had been conscious of a compelling +faculty in him, of a pressure he exerted demanding justification of +herself; and to-day, because she was now pledged to Syndicalism, because +she had made the startling discovery that he was a writer of some renown, +she had been more than ever anxious to vindicate her cause. She found +herself, indeed, wondering uneasily whether there were a higher truth of +which he was in possession. And the fact that his attitude toward her +had been one of sympathy and friendliness rather than of disapproval, +that his insight seemed to have fathomed her case, apprehended it in all +but the details, was even more disturbing--yet vaguely consoling. The +consolatory element in the situation was somehow connected with the lady, +his friend from Silliston, to whom he had introduced her and whose image +now came before her the more vividly, perhaps, in contrast with that of +Mrs. Brocklehurst. Mrs. Maturin--could Janet have so expressed her +thought! had appeared as an extension of Insall's own personality. She +was a strong, tall, vital woman with a sweet irregularity of feature, +with a heavy crown of chestnut hair turning slightly grey, quaintly +braided, becomingly framing her face. Her colour was high. The +impression she conveyed of having suffered was emphasized by the simple +mourning gown she wore, but the dominant note she had struck was one of +dependability. It was, after all, Insall's dominant, too. Insall had +asked her to call again; and the reflection that she might do so was +curiously comforting. The soup kitchen in the loft, with these two +presiding over it, took on something of the aspect of a sanctuary.... + +Insall, in some odd manner, and through the medium of that frivolous +lady, had managed to reenforce certain doubts that had been stirring in +Janet--doubts of Rolfe, of the verity of the doctrine which with such +abandon she had embraced. It was Insall who, though remaining silent, +just by being there seemed to have suggested her manner of dealing with +Mrs. Brocklehurst. It had, indeed, been his manner of dealing with Mrs. +Brocklehurst. Janet had somehow been using his words, his method, and +thus for the first time had been compelled to look objectively on what +she had deemed a part of herself. We never know what we are, he had +said, until we become something else! He had forced her to use an +argument that failed to harmonize, somehow, with Rolfe's poetical +apologetics. Stripped of the glamour of these, was not Rolfe's doctrine +just one of taking, taking? And when the workers were in possession of +all, would not they be as badly off as Mrs. Brocklehurst or Ditmar? +Rolfe, despite the inspiring intellectual creed he professed, lacked the +poise and unity that go with happiness. He wanted things, for himself: +whereas she beheld in Insall one who seemed emancipated from possessions, +whose life was so organized as to make them secondary affairs. And she +began to wonder what Insall would think of Ditmar. + +These sudden flashes of tenderness for Ditmar startled and angered her. +She had experienced them before, and always had failed to account for +their intrusion into a hatred she cherished. Often, at her desk in the +bibliotheque, she had surprised herself speculating upon what Ditmar +might be doing at that moment; and it seemed curious, living in the same +city with him, that she had not caught a glimpse of him during the +strike. More than once, moved by a perverse impulse, she had ventured of +an evening down West Street toward the guard of soldiers in the hope of +catching sight of him. He had possessed her, and the memory of the wild +joy of that possession, of that surrender to great strength, refused to +perish. Why, at such moments, should she glory in a strength that had +destroyed her and why, when she heard him cursed as the man who stood, +more than any other, in the way of the strikers victory, should she +paradoxically and fiercely rejoice? why should she feel pride when she +was told of the fearlessness with which he went about the streets, and +her heart stop beating when she thought of the possibility of his being +shot? For these unwelcome phenomena within herself Janet could not +account. When they disturbed and frightened her, she plunged into her +work with the greater zeal.... + +As the weeks went by, the strain of the strike began to tell on the weak, +the unprepared, on those who had many mouths to feed. Shivering with the +cold of that hardest of winters, these unfortunates flocked to the +Franco-Belgian Hall, where a little food or money in proportion to the +size of their families was doled out to them. In spite of the +contributions received by mail, of the soup kitchens and relief stations +set up by various organizations in various parts of the city, the supply +little more than sufficed to keep alive the more needy portion of the +five and twenty thousand who now lacked all other means of support. +Janet's heart was wrung as she gazed at the gaunt, bewildered faces +growing daily more tragic, more bewildered and gaunt; she marvelled at +the animal-like patience of these Europeans, at the dumb submission of +most of them to privations that struck her as appalling. Some indeed +complained, but the majority recited in monotonous, unimpassioned tones +their stories of suffering, or of ill treatment by the "Cossacks" or the +police. The stipends were doled out by Czernowitz, but all through the +week there were special appeals. Once it was a Polish woman, wan and +white, who carried her baby wrapped in a frayed shawl. + +"Wahna littel money for milk," she said, when at length their attention +was drawn to her. + +"But you get your money, every Saturday," the secretary informed her +kindly. + +She shook her head. + +"Baby die, 'less I have littel milk--I show you." + +Janet drew back before the sight of the child with its sunken cheeks and +ghastly blue lips .... And she herself went out with the woman to buy +the milk, and afterwards to the dive in Kendall Street which she called +home--in one of those "rear" tenements separated from the front buildings +by a narrow court reeking with refuse. The place was dank and cold, +malodorous. The man of the family, the lodgers who lived in the other +room of the kennel, were out on the streets. But when her eyes grew used +to the darkness she perceived three silent children huddled in the bed in +the corner.... + +On another occasion a man came running up the stairs of the Hall and +thrust his way into a meeting of the Committee--one of those normally +happy, irresponsible Syrians who, because of a love for holidays, are the +despair of mill overseers. Now he was dazed, breathless, his great eyes +grief-stricken like a wounded animal's. + +"She is killidd, my wife--de polees, dey killidd her!" + +It was Anna Mower who investigated the case. "The girl wasn't doing +nothing but walk along Hudson Street when one of those hirelings set on +her and beat her. She put out her hand because she thought he'd hit her- +-and he gave her three or four with his billy and left her in the gutter. +If you'd see her you'd know she wouldn't hurt a fly, she's that gentle +looking, like all the Syrian women. She had a `Don't be a scab' ribbon +on--that's all she done! Somebody'll shoot that guy, and I wouldn't +blame 'em." Anna stood beside Janet's typewriter, her face red with +anger as she told the story. + +"And how is the woman now?" asked Janet. + +"In bed, with two ribs broken and a bruise on her back and a cut on her +head. I got a doctor. He could hardly see her in that black place they +live."... + +Such were the incidents that fanned the hatred into hotter and hotter +flame. Daily reports were brought in of arrests, of fines and +imprisonments for picketing, or sometimes merely for booing at the +remnant of those who still clung to their employment. One magistrate in +particular, a Judge Hennessy, was hated above all others for giving the +extreme penalty of the law, and even stretching it. "Minions, slaves of +the capitalists, of the masters," the courts were called, and Janet +subscribed to these epithets, beheld the judges as willing agents of a +tyranny from which she, too, had suffered. There arrived at Headquarters +frenzied bearers of rumours such as that of the reported intention of +landlords to remove the windows from the tenements if the rents were not +paid. Antonelli himself calmed these. "Let the landlords try it!" he +said phlegmatically.... + +After a while, as the deadlock showed no signs of breaking, the siege of +privation began to tell, ominous signs of discontent became apparent. +Chief among the waverers were those who had come to America with visions +of a fortune, who had practised a repulsive thrift in order to acquire +real estate, who carried in their pockets dog-eared bank books recording +payments already made. These had consented to the strike reluctantly, +through fear, or had been carried away by the eloquence and enthusiasm of +the leaders, by the expectation that the mill owners would yield at once. +Some went back to work, only to be "seen" by the militant, watchful +pickets--generally in their rooms, at night. One evening, as Janet was +walking home, she chanced to overhear a conversation taking place in the +dark vestibule of a tenement. + +"Working to-day?" + +"Yah." + +"Work to-morrow?" + +Hesitation. "I d'no." + +"You work, I cut your throat." A significant noise. "Naw, I no work." + +"Shake!" + +She hurried on trembling, not with fear, but exultingly. Nor did she +reflect that only a month ago such an occurrence would have shocked and +terrified her. This was war.... On her way to Fillmore Street she +passed, at every street corner in this district, a pacing sentry, muffled +in greatcoat and woollen cap, alert and watchful, the ugly knife on the +end of his gun gleaming in the blue light of the arc. It did not occur +to her, despite the uniform, that the souls of many of these men were +divided also, that their voices and actions, when she saw them +threatening with their bayonets, were often inspired by that inner +desperation characteristic of men who find themselves unexpectedly in +false situations. Once she heard a woman shriek as the sharp knife +grazed her skirt: at another time a man whose steps had been considerably +hurried turned, at a safe distance, and shouted defiantly: + +"Say, who are you working for? Me or the Wool Trust?" + +"Aw, get along," retorted the soldier, "or I'll give you yours." + +The man caught sight of Janet's button as she overtook him. He was +walking backward. + +"That feller has a job in a machine shop over in Barrington, I seen him +there when I was in the mills. And here he is tryin' to put us out-- +ain't that the limit?" + +The thud of horses' feet in the snow prevented her reply. The +silhouettes of the approaching squad of cavalry were seen down the +street, and the man fled precipitately into an alleyway.... + +There were ludicrous incidents, too, though never lacking in a certain +pathos. The wife of a Russian striker had her husband arrested because +he had burned her clothes in order to prevent her returning to the mill. +From the police station he sent a compatriot with a message to +Headquarters. "Oye, he fix her! She no get her jawb now--she gotta stay +in bed!" this one cried triumphantly. + +"She was like to tear me in pieces when I brought her the clothes," said +Anna Mower, who related her experience with mingled feelings. "I +couldn't blame her. You see, it was the kids crying with cold and +starvation, and she got so she just couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand +it, neither." + +Day by day the element who wished to compromise and end the strike grew +stronger, brought more and more pressure on the leaders. These people +were subsidized, Antonelli declared, by the capitalists.... + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A more serious atmosphere pervaded Headquarters, where it was realized +that the issue hung in the balance. And more proclamations, a la +Napoleon, were issued to sustain and hearten those who were finding bread +and onions meagre fare, to shame the hesitating, the wavering. As has +been said, it was Rolfe who, because of his popular literary gift, +composed these appeals for the consideration of the Committee, dictating +them to Janet as he paced up and down the bibliotheque, inhaling +innumerable cigarettes and flinging down the ends on the floor. A famous +one was headed "Shall Wool and Cotton Kings Rule the Nation?" "We are +winning" it declared. "The World is with us! Forced by the unshaken +solidarity of tens of thousands, the manufacturers offer bribes to end +the reign of terror they have inaugurated.... Inhuman treatment and +oppressive toil have brought all nationalities together into one great +army to fight against a brutal system of exploitation. In years and +years of excessive labour we have produced millions for a class of idle +parasites, who enjoy all the luxuries of life while our wives have to +leave their firesides and our children their schools to eke out a +miserable existence." And this for the militia: "The lowest aim of life +is to be a soldier! The `good' soldier never tries to distinguish right +from wrong, he never thinks, he never reasons, he only obeys--" + +"But," Janet was tempted to say, "your syndicalism declares that none of +us should think or reason. We should only feel." She was beginning to +detect Rolfe's inconsistencies, yet she refrained from interrupting the +inspirational flow. + +"The soldier is a blind, heartless, soulless, murderous machine." Rolfe +was fond of adjectives. "All that is human in him, all that is divine +has been sworn away when he took the enlistment oath. No man can fall +lower than a soldier. It is a depth beyond which we cannot go." + +"All that is human, all that is divine," wrote Janet, and thrilled a +little at the words. Why was it that mere words, and their arrangement +in certain sequences, gave one a delicious, creepy feeling up and down +the spine? Her attitude toward him had become more and more critical, +she had avoided him when she could, but when he was in this ecstatic mood +she responded, forgot his red lips, his contradictions, lost herself in a +medium she did not comprehend. Perhaps it was because, in his absorption +in the task, he forgot her, forgot himself. She, too, despised the +soldiers, fervently believed they had sold themselves to the oppressors +of mankind. And Rolfe, when in the throes of creation, had the manner of +speaking to the soldiers themselves, as though these were present in the +lane just below the window; as though he were on the tribune. At such +times he spoke with such rapidity that, quick though she was, she could +scarcely keep up with him. "Most of you, Soldiers, are workingmen!" he +cried. "Yesterday you were slaving in the mills yourselves. You will +profit by our victory. Why should you wish to crush us? Be human!" + +Pale, excited, he sank down into the chair by her side and lit another +cigarette. + +"They ought to listen to that!" he exclaimed. "It's the best one I've +done yet." + +Night had come. Czernowitz sat in the other room, talking to Jastro, a +buzz of voices came from the hall through the thin pine panels of the +door. All day long a sixty-mile gale had twisted the snow of the lane +into whirling, fantastic columns and rattled the windows of Franco- +Belgian Hall. But now the wind had fallen.... Presently, as his self- +made music ceased to vibrate within him, Rolfe began to watch the girl as +she sat motionless, with parted lips and eyes alight, staring at the +reflection of the lamp in the blue-black window. + +"Is that the end?" she asked, at length. + +"Yes," he replied sensitively. "Can't you see it's a climax? Don't you +think it's a good one?" + +She looked at him, puzzled. + +"Why, yes," she said, "I think it's fine. You see, I have to take it +down so fast I can't always follow it as I'd like to." + +"When you feel, you can do anything," he exclaimed. "It is necessary to +feel." + +"It is necessary to know," she told him. + +"I do not understand you," he cried, leaning toward her. "Sometimes you +are a flame--a wonderful, scarlet flame I can express it in no other way. +Or again, you are like the Madonna of our new faith, and I wish I were a +del Sarto to paint you. And then again you seem as cold as your New +England snow, you have no feeling, you are an Anglo-Saxon--a Puritan." + +She smiled, though she felt a pang of reminiscence at the word. Ditmar +had called her so, too. + +"I can't help what I am," she said. + +"It is that which inhibits you," he declared. "That Puritanism. It must +be eradicated before you can develop, and then--and then you will be +completely wonderful. When this strike is over, when we have time, I +will teach you many things--develop you. We will read Sorel together he +is beautiful, like poetry--and the great poets, Dante and Petrarch and +Tasso--yes, and d'Annunzio. We shall live." + +"We are living, now," she answered. The look with which she surveyed him +he found enigmatic. And then, abruptly, she rose and went to her +typewriter. + +"You don't believe what I say!" he reproached her. + +But she was cool. "I'm not sure that I believe all of it. I want to +think it out for myself--to talk to others, too." + +"What others?" + +"Nobody in particular--everybody," she replied, as she set her notebook +on the rack. + +"There is some one else!" he exclaimed, rising. + +"There is every one else," she said. + +As was his habit when agitated, he began to smoke feverishly, glancing at +her from time to time as she fingered the keys. Experience had led him +to believe that he who finds a woman in revolt and gives her a religion +inevitably becomes her possessor. But more than a month had passed, he +had not become her possessor--and now for the first time there entered +his mind a doubt as to having given her a religion! The obvious +inference was that of another man, of another influence in opposition to +his own; characteristically, however, he shrank from accepting this, +since he was of those who believe what they wish to believe. The sudden +fear of losing her--intruding itself immediately upon an ecstatic, +creative mood--unnerved him, yet he strove to appear confident as he +stood over her. + +"When you've finished typewriting that, we'll go out to supper," he told +her. + +But she shook her head. + +"Why not?" + +"I don't want to," she replied--and then, to soften her refusal, she +added, "I can't, to-night." + +"But you never will come with me anymore. Why is it?" + +"I'm very tired at night. I don't feel like going out." She sought to +temporize. + +"You've changed!" he accused her. "You're not the same as you were at +first--you avoid me." + +The swift gesture with which she flung over the carriage of her machine +might have warned him. + +"I don't like that Hampton Hotel," she flashed back. "I'm--I'm not a +vagabond--yet." + +"A vagabond!" he repeated. + +She went on savagely with her work.. + +"You have two natures," he exclaimed. "You are still a bourgeoise, a +Puritan. You will not be yourself, you will not be free until you get +over that." + +"I'm not sure I want to get over it." + +He leaned nearer to her. + +"But now that I have found you, Janet, I will not let you go." + +"You've no rights over me," she cried, in sudden alarm and anger. "I'm +not doing this work, I'm not wearing myself out here for you." + +"Then--why are you doing it?" His suspicions rose again, and made him +reckless. + +"To help the strikers," she said.... He could get no more out of her, +and presently, when Anna Mower entered the room, he left it.... + +More than once since her first visit to the soup kitchen in Dey Street +Janet had returned to it. The universe rocked, but here was equilibrium. +The streets were filled with soldiers, with marching strikers, terrible +things were constantly happening; the tension at Headquarters never +seemed to relax. Out in the world and within her own soul were strife +and suffering, and sometimes fear; the work in which she sought to lose +herself no longer sufficed to keep her from thinking, and the spectacle-- +when she returned home--of her mother's increasing apathy grew more and +more appalling. But in Dey Street she gained calmness, was able to renew +something of that sense of proportion the lack of which, in the chaos in +which she was engulfed, often brought her to the verge of madness. At +first she had had a certain hesitation about going back, and on the +occasion of her second visit had walked twice around the block before +venturing to enter. She had no claim on this man. He was merely a +chance acquaintance, a stranger--and yet he seemed nearer to her, to +understand her better than any one else she knew in the world. This was +queer, because she had not explained herself; nor had he asked her for +any confidences. She would have liked to confide in him--some things: he +gave her the impression of comprehending life; of having, as his +specialty, humanity itself; he should, she reflected, have been a +minister, and smiled at the thought: ministers, at any rate, ought to be +like him, and then one might embrace Christianity--the religion of her +forefathers that Rolfe ridiculed. But there was about Insall nothing of +religion as she had grown up to apprehend the term. + +Now that she had taken her courage in her hands and renewed her visits, +they seemed to be the most natural proceedings in the world. On that +second occasion, when she had opened the door and palpitatingly climbed +to the loft, the second batch of children were finishing their midday +meal,--rather more joyously, she thought, than before,--and Insall +himself was stooping over a small boy whom he had taken away from the +table. He did not notice her at once, and Janet watched them. The child +had a cough, his extreme thinness was emphasized by the coat he wore, +several sizes too large for him. + +"Yon come along with me, Marcus, I guess I can fit you out," Insall was +saying, when he looked up and saw Janet. + +"Why, if it isn't Miss Bumpus! I thought you'd forgotten us." + +"Oh no," she protested. "I wanted to come." + +"Then why didn't you?" + +"Well, I have come," she said, with a little sigh, and he did not press +her further. And she refrained from offering any conventional excuse, +such as that of being interested in the children. She had come to see +him, and such was the faith with which he inspired her--now that she was +once more in his presence--that she made no attempt to hide the fact. + +"You've never seen my clothing store, have you?" he asked. And with the +child's hand in his he led the way into a room at the rear of the loft. +A kit of carpenter's tools was on the floor, and one wall was lined with +box-like compartments made of new wood, each with its label in neat +lettering indicating the articles contained therein. "Shoes?" he +repeated, as he ran his eye down the labels and suddenly opened a drawer. +"Here we are, Marcus. Sit down there on the bench, and take off the +shoes you have on." + +The boy had one of those long faces of the higher Jewish type, +intelligent, wistful. He seemed dazed by Insall's kindness. The shoes +he wore were those of an adult, but cracked and split, revealing the +cotton stocking and here and there the skin. His little blue hands +fumbled with the knotted strings that served for facings until Insall, +producing a pocket knife, deftly cut the strings. + +"Those are summer shoes, Marcus--well ventilated." + +"They're by me since August," said the boy. + +"And now the stockings," prompted Insall. The old ones, wet, +discoloured, and torn, were stripped off, and thick, woollen ones +substituted. Insall, casting his eye over the open drawer, chose a pair +of shoes that had been worn, but which were stout and serviceable, and +taking one in his hand knelt down before the child. "Let's see how good +a guesser I am," he said, loosening the strings and turning back the +tongue, imitating good-humouredly the deferential manner of a salesman of +footwear as he slipped on the shoe. "Why, it fits as if it were made for +you! Now for the other one. Yes, your feet are mates--I know a man who +wears a whole size larger on his left foot." The dazed expression +remained on the boy's face. The experience was beyond him. "That's +better," said Insall, as he finished the lacing. "Keep out of the snow, +Marcus, all you can. Wet feet aren't good for a cough, you know. And +when you come in to supper a nice doctor will be here, and we'll see if +we can't get rid of the cough." + +The boy nodded. He got to his feet, stared down at the shoes, and walked +slowly toward the door, where he turned. + +"Thank you, Mister Insall," he said. + +And Insall, still sitting on his heels, waved his hand. + +"It is not to mention it," he replied. "Perhaps you may have a clothing +store of your own some day--who knows!" He looked up at Janet amusedly +and then, with a spring, stood upright, his easy, unconscious pose +betokening command of soul and body. "I ought to have kept a store," he +observed. "I missed my vocation." + +"It seems to me that you missed a great many vocations," she replied. +Commonplaces alone seemed possible, adequate. "I suppose you made all +those drawers yourself." + +He bowed in acknowledgment of her implied tribute. With his fine nose +and keen eyes--set at a slightly downward angle, creased at the corners-- +with his thick, greying hair, despite his comparative youth he had the +look one associates with portraits of earlier, patriarchal Americans.... +These calls of Janet's were never of long duration. She had fallen into +the habit of taking her lunch between one and two, and usually arrived +when the last installment of youngsters were finishing their meal; +sometimes they were filing out, stopping to form a group around Insall, +who always managed to say something amusing--something pertinent and +good-naturedly personal. For he knew most of them by name, and had +acquired a knowledge of certain individual propensities and +idiosyncrasies that delighted their companions. + +"What's the trouble, Stepan--swallowed your spoon?" Stepan was known to +be greedy. Or he would suddenly seize an unusually solemn boy from +behind and tickle him until the child screamed with laughter. It was, +indeed, something of an achievement to get on terms of confidence with +these alien children of the tenements and the streets who from their +earliest years had been forced to shift for themselves, and many of whom +had acquired a precocious suspicion of Greeks bearing gifts. Insall +himself had used the phrase, and explained it to Janet. That sense of +caveat donor was perhaps their most pathetic characteristic. But he +broke it down; broke down, too, the shyness accompanying it, the shyness +and solemnity emphasized in them by contact with hardship and poverty, +with the stark side of life they faced at home. He had made them--Mrs. +Maturin once illuminatingly remarked--more like children. Sometimes he +went to see their parents,--as in the case of Marcus--to suggest certain +hygienic precautions in his humorous way; and his accounts of these +visits, too, were always humorous. Yet through that humour ran a strain +of pathos that clutched--despite her smile--at Janet's heartstrings. +This gift of emphasizing and heightening tragedy while apparently dealing +in comedy she never ceased to wonder at. She, too, knew that tragedy of +the tenements, of the poor, its sordidness and cruelty. All her days she +had lived precariously near it, and lately she had visited these people, +had been torn by the sight of what they endured. But Insall's jokes, +while they stripped it of sentimentality of which she had an instinctive +dislike--made it for her even more poignant. One would have thought, to +have such an insight into it, that he too must have lived it, must have +been brought up in some dirty alley of a street. That gift, of course, +must be a writer's gift. + +When she saw the waifs trooping after him down the stairs, Mrs. Maturin +called him the Pied Piper of Hampton. + +As time went on, Janet sometimes wondered over the quiet manner in which +these two people, Insall and Mrs. Maturin, took her visits as though they +were matters of course, and gave her their friendship. There was, +really, no obvious excuse for her coming, not even that of the waifs for +food--and yet she came to be fed. The sustenance they gave her would +have been hard to define; it flowed not so much from what they said, as +from what they were; it was in the atmosphere surrounding them. +Sometimes she looked at Mrs. Maturin to ask herself what this lady would +say if she knew her history, her relationship with Ditmar--which had been +her real reason for entering the ranks of the strikers. And was it fair +for her, Janet, to permit Mrs. Maturin to bestow her friendship without +revealing this? She could not make up her mind as to what this lady +would say. Janet had had no difficulty in placing Ditmar; not much +trouble, after her first surprise was over, in classifying Rolfe and the +itinerant band of syndiealists who had descended upon her restricted +world. But Insall and Mrs. Maturin were not to be ticketed. What +chiefly surprised her, in addition to their kindliness, to their taking +her on faith without the formality of any recommendation or introduction, +was their lack of intellectual narrowness. She did not, of course, so +express it. But she sensed, in their presence, from references casually +let fall in their conversation, a wider culture of which they were in +possession, a culture at once puzzling and exciting, one that she +despaired of acquiring for herself. Though it came from reading, it did +not seem "literary," according to the notion she had conceived of the +term. Her speculations concerning it must be focussed and interpreted. +It was a culture, in the first place, not harnessed to an obvious Cause: +something like that struck her. It was a culture that contained +tolerance and charity, that did not label a portion of mankind as its +enemy, but seemed, by understanding all, to forgive all. It had no +prejudices; nor did it boast, as the Syndicalists boasted, of its absence +of convention. And little by little Janet connected it with Silliston. + +"It must be wonderful to live in such a place as that," she exclaimed, +when the Academy was mentioned. On this occasion Insall had left for a +moment, and she was in the little room he called his "store," alone with +Mrs. Maturin, helping to sort out a batch of garments just received. + +"It was there you first met Brooks, wasn't it?" She always spoke of him +as Brooks. "He told me about it, how you walked out there and asked him +about a place to lunch." Mrs. Maturin laughed. "You didn't know what to +make of him, did you?" + +"I thought he was a carpenter!" said Janet. "I--I never should have +taken him for an author. But of course I don't know any other authors." + +"Well, he's not like any of them, he's just like himself. You can't put +a tag on people who are really big." + +Janet considered this. "I never thought of that. I suppose not," she +agreed. + +Mrs. Maturin glanced at her. "So you liked Sflliston," she said. + +"I liked it better than any place I ever saw. I haven't seen many +places, but I'm sure that few can be nicer." + +"What did you like about it, Janet?" Mrs. Maturin was interested. + +"It's hard to say," Janet replied, after a moment. "It gave me such a +feeling of peace--of having come home, although I lived in Hampton. I +can't express it." + +"I think you're expressing it rather well," said Mrs. Maturin. + +"It was so beautiful in the spring," Janet continued, dropping the coat +she held into the drawer. "And it wasn't just the trees and the grass +with the yellow dandelions, it was the houses, too--I've often wondered +why those houses pleased me so much. I wanted to live in every one of +them. Do you know that feeling?" Mrs. Maturin nodded. "They didn't +hurt your eyes when you looked at them, and they seemed to be so much at +home there, even the new ones. The new ones were like the children of +the old." + +"I'll tell the architect. He'll be pleased," said Mrs. Maturin. + +Janet flushed. + +"Am I being silly?" she asked. + +"No; my dear," Mrs. Maturin replied. "You've expressed what I feel about +Silliston. What do you intend to do when the strike is over?" + +"I hadn't thought." Janet started at the question, but Mrs. Maturin did +not seem to notice the dismay in her tone. "You don't intend to--to +travel around with the I. W. W. people, do you?" + +"I--I hadn't thought," Janet faltered. It was the first time Mrs. +Maturin had spoken of her connection with Syndicalism. And she surprised +herself by adding: "I don't see how I could. They can get stenographers +anywhere, and that's all I'm good for." And the question occurred to +her--did she really wish to? + +"What I was going to suggest," continued Mrs. Maturin, quietly, "was that +you might try Silliston. There's a chance for a good stenographer there, +and I'm sure you are a good one. So many of the professors send to +Boston." + +Janet stood stock still. Then she said: "But you don't know anything +about me, Mrs. Maturin." + +Kindliness burned in the lady's eyes as she replied: "I know more now-- +since you've told me I know nothing. Of course there's much I don't +know, how you, a stenographer, became involved in this strike and joined +the I. W. W. But you shall tell me or not, as you wish, when we become +better friends." + +Janet felt the blood beating in her throat, and an impulse to confess +everything almost mastered her. From the first she had felt drawn toward +Mrs. Maturin, who seemed to hold out to her the promise of a woman's +friendship--for which she had felt a life-long need: a woman friend who +would understand the insatiate yearning in her that gave her no rest in +her search for a glittering essence never found, that had led her only to +new depths of bitterness and despair. It would destroy her, if indeed it +had not already done so. Mrs. Maturin, Insall, seemed to possess the +secret that would bring her peace--and yet, in spite of something urging +her to speak, she feared the risk of losing them. Perhaps, after all, +they would not understand! perhaps it was too late! + +"You do not believe in the Industrial Workers of the World," was what she +said. + +Mrs. Maturin herself, who had been moved and excited as she gazed at +Janet, was taken by surprise. A few moments elapsed before she could +gather herself to reply, and then she managed to smile. + +"I do not believe that wisdom will die with them, my dear. Their--their +doctrine is too simple, it does not seem as if life, the social order is +to be so easily solved." + +"But you must sympathize with them, with the strikers." Janet's gesture +implied that the soup kitchen was proof of this. + +"Ah," replied Mrs. Maturin, gently, "that is different to understand +them. There is one philosophy for the lamb, and another for the wolf." + +"You mean," said Janet, trembling, "that what happens to us makes us +inclined to believe certain things?" + +"Precisely," agreed Mrs. Maturin, in admiration. "But I must be honest +with you, it was Brooks who made me see it." + +"But--he never said that to me. And I asked him once, almost the same +question." + +"He never said it to me, either," Mrs. Maturin confessed. "He doesn't +tell you what he believes; I simply gathered that this is his idea. And +apparently the workers can only improve their condition by strikes, by +suffering--it seems to be the only manner in which they can convince the +employers that the conditions are bad. It isn't the employers' fault." + +"Not their fault!" Janet repeated. + +"Not in a large sense," said Mrs. Maturin. "When people grow up to look +at life in a certain way, from a certain viewpoint, it is difficult, +almost impossible to change them. It's--it's their religion. They are +convinced that if the world doesn't go on in their way, according to +their principles, everything will be destroyed. They aren't inhuman. +Within limits everybody is more than willing to help the world along, if +only they can be convinced that what they are asked to do will help." + +Janet breathed deeply. She was thinking of Ditmar. + +And Mrs. Maturin, regarding her, tactfully changed the subject. + +"I didn't intend to give you a lecture on sociology or psychology, my +dear," she said. "I know nothing about them, although we have a +professor who does. Think over what I've said about coming to Silliston. +It will do you good--you are working too hard here. I know you would +enjoy Silliston. And Brooks takes such an interest in you," she added +impulsively. "It is quite a compliment." + +"But why?" Janet demanded, bewildered. + +"Perhaps it's because you have--possibilities. You may be typewriting +his manuscripts. And then, I am a widow, and often rather lonely--you +could come in and read to me occasionally." + +"But--I've never read anything." + +"How fortunate!" said Insall, who had entered the doorway in time to hear +Janet's exclamation. "More than half of modern culture depends on what +one shouldn't read." + +Mrs. Maturin laughed. But Insall waved his hand deprecatingly. + +"That isn't my own," he confessed. "I cribbed it from a clever +Englishman. But I believe it's true." + +"I think I'll adopt her," said Mrs. Maturin to Insall, when she had +repeated to him the conversation. "I know you are always convicting me +of enthusiasms, Brooks, and I suppose I do get enthusiastic." + +"Well, you adopt her--and I'll marry her," replied Insall, with a smile, +as he cut the string from the last bundle of clothing. + +"You might do worse. It would be a joke if you did--!" + +His friend paused to consider this preposterous possibility. "One never +can tell whom a man like you, an artist, will marry." + +"We've no business to marry at all," said Insall, laughing. "I often +wonder where that romantic streak will land you, Augusta. But you do +have a delightful time!" + +"Don't begrudge it me, it makes life so much more interesting," Mrs. +Maturin begged, returning his smile. "I haven't the faintest idea that +you will marry her or any one else. But I insist on saying she's your +type--she's the kind of a person artists do dig up and marry--only better +than most of them, far better." + +"Dig up?" said Insall. + +"Well, you know I'm not a snob--I only mean that she seems to be one of +the surprising anomalies that sometimes occur in--what shall I say?--in +the working-classes. I do feel like a snob when I say that. But what is +it? Where does that spark come from? Is it in our modern air, that +discontent, that desire, that thrusting forth toward a new light-- +something as yet unformulated, but which we all feel, even at small +institutions of learning like Silliston?" + +"Now you're getting beyond me." + +"Oh no, I'm not," Mrs. Maturin retorted confidently. "If you won't talk +about it, I will, I have no shame. And this girl has it--this thing I'm +trying to express. She's modern to her finger tips, and yet she's +extraordinarily American--in spite of her modernity, she embodies in some +queer way our tradition. She loves our old houses at Silliston--they +make her feel at home--that's her own expression." + +"Did she say that?" + +"Exactly. And I know she's of New England ancestry, she told me so. +What I can't make out is, why she joined the I.W.W. That seems so +contradictory." + +"Perhaps she was searching for light there," Insall hazarded. "Why don't +you ask her?" + +"I don't know," replied Mrs. Maturin, thoughtfully. "I want to, my +curiosity almost burns me alive, and yet I don't. She isn't the kind you +can ask personal questions of--that's part of her charm, part of her +individuality. One is a little afraid to intrude. And yet she keeps +coming here--of course you are a sufficient attraction, Brooks. But I +must give her the credit of not flirting with you." + +"I've noticed that, too," said Insall, comically. + +"She's searching for light," Mrs. Maturin went on, struck by the phrase. +"She has an instinct we can give it to her, because we come from an +institution of learning. I felt something of the kind when I suggested +her establishing herself in Silliston. Well, she's more than worth while +experimenting on, she must have lived and breathed what you call the +`movie atmosphere' all her life, and yet she never seems to have read and +absorbed any sentimental literature or cheap religion. She doesn't +suggest the tawdry. That part of her, the intellectual part, is a clear +page to be written upon." + +"There's my chance," said Insall. + +"No, it's my chance--since you're so cynical." + +"I'm not cynical," he protested. + +"I don't believe you really are. And if you are, there may be a judgment +upon you," she added playfully. "I tell you she's the kind of woman +artists go mad about. She has what sentimentalists call temperament, and +after all we haven't any better word to express dynamic desires. She'd +keep you stirred up, stimulated, and you could educate her." + +"No, thanks, I'll leave that to you. He who educates a woman is lost. +But how about Syndicalism and all the mysticism that goes with it? +There's an intellectual over at Headquarters who's been talking to her +about Bergson, the life-force, and the World-We-Ourselves-Create." + +Mrs. Maturin laughed. + +"Well, we go wrong when we don't go right. That's just it, we must go +some way. And I'm sure, from what I gather, that she isn't wholly +satisfied with Syndicalism." + +"What is right?" demanded Insall. + +"Oh, I don't intend to turn her over to Mr. Worrall and make a +sociologist and a militant suffragette out of her. She isn't that kind, +anyhow. But I could give her good literature to read--yours, for +instance," she added maliciously. + +"You're preposterous, Augusta," Insall exclaimed. + +"I may be, but you've got to indulge me. I've taken this fancy to her-- +of course I mean to see more of her. But--you know how hard it is for +me, sometimes, since I've been left alone." + +Insall laid his hand affectionately on her shoulder. + +"I remember what you said the first day I saw her, that the strike was in +her," Mrs. Maturin continued. "Well, I see now that she does express and +typify it--and I don't mean the `labour movement' alone, or this strike +in Rampton, which is symptomatic, but crude. I mean something bigger-- +and I suppose you do--the protest, the revolt, the struggle for self- +realization that is beginning to be felt all over the nation, all over +the world today, that is not yet focussed and self-conscious, but groping +its way, clothing itself in any philosophy that seems to fit it. I can +imagine myself how such a strike as this might appeal to a girl with a +sense of rebellion against sordidness and lack of opportunity--especially +if she has had a tragic experience. And sometimes I suspect she has had +one." + +"Well, it's an interesting theory," Insall admitted indulgently. + +"I'm merely amplifying your suggestions, only. you won't admit that they +are yours. And she was your protegee." "And you are going to take her +off my hands." "I'm not so sure," said Mrs. Maturin. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +The Hampton strike had reached the state of grim deadlock characteristic +of all stubborn wars. There were aggressions, retaliations on both +sides, the antagonism grew more intense. The older labour unions were +accused by the strikers of playing the employers' game, and thus grew to +be hated even more than the "capitalists." These organizations of the +skilled had entered but half-heartedly into a struggle that now began to +threaten, indeed, their very existence, and when it was charged that the +Textile Workers had been attempting to secure recruits from the ranks of +the strikers, and had secretly offered the millowners a scale of demands +in the hope that a sufficient number of operatives would return to work, +and so break the strike; a serious riot was barely averted. "Scab-huntmg +agencies," the unions were called. One morning when it was learned that +the loom-fixers, almost to a man, had gone back to the mills, a streetcar +was stopped near the power house at the end of Faber Street, and in a +twinkling, before the militia or police could interfere, motorman, +conductor, and passengers were dragged from it and the trolley pole +removed. This and a number of similar aggressive acts aroused the mill- +owners and their agents to appeal with renewed vigour to the public +through the newspapers, which it was claimed they owned or subsidized. +Then followed a series of arraignments of the strike leaders calculated +to stir the wildest prejudices and fears of the citizens of Hampton. +Antonelli and Jastro--so rumour had it--in various nightly speeches had +advised their followers to "sleep in the daytime and prowl like wild +animals at night"; urged the power house employees to desert and leave +the city in darkness; made the declaration, "We will win if we raise +scaffolds on every street!" insisted that the strikers, too, should have +"gun permits," since the police hirelings carried arms. And the fact +that the mill-owners replied with pamphlets whose object was proclaimed +to be one of discrediting their leaders in the eyes of the public still +further infuriated the strikers. Such charges, of course, had to be +vehemently refuted, the motives behind them made clear, and counter- +accusations laid at the door of the mill-owners. + +The atmosphere at Headquarters daily grew more tense. At any moment the +spark might be supplied to precipitate an explosion that would shake the +earth. The hungry, made more desperate by their own sufferings or the +spectacle of starving families, were increasingly difficult to control: +many wished to return to work, others clamoured for violence, nor were +these wholly discouraged by a portion of the leaders. A riot seemed +imminent--a riot Antonelli feared and firmly opposed, since it would +alienate the sympathy of that wider public in the country on which the +success of the strike depended. Watchful, yet apparently unconcerned, +unmoved by the quarrels, the fierce demands for "action," he sat on the +little stage, smoking his cigars and reading his newspapers. + +Janet's nerves were taut. There had been times during the past weeks +when she had been aware of new and vaguely disquieting portents. +Inexperience had led her to belittle them, and the absorbing nature of +her work, the excitement due to the strange life of conflict, of new +ideas, into which she had so unreservedly flung herself, the resentment +that galvanized her--all these had diverted her from worry. At night, +hers had been the oblivious slumber of the weary.... And then, as a +desperate wayfarer, pressing on, feels a heavy drop of rain and glances +up to perceive the clouds that have long been gathering, she awoke in the +black morning hours, and fear descended upon her. Suddenly her brain +became hideously active as she lay, dry-upped, staring into the darkness, +striving to convince herself that it could not be. But the thing had its +advocate, also, to summon ingeniously, in cumulative array, those omens +she had ignored: to cause her to piece together, in this moment of +torture, portions of the knowledge of sexual facts that prudery banishes +from education, a smattering of which reaches the ears of such young +women as Janet in devious, roundabout ways. Several times, in the month +just past, she had had unwonted attacks of dizziness, of faintness, and +on one occasion Anna Mower, alarmed, had opened the window of the +bibliotheque and thrust her into the cold air. Now, with a pang of fear +she recalled what Anna had said:-- + +"You're working too hard--you hadn't ought to stay here nights. If it +was some girls I've met, I'd know what to think." + +Strange that the significance of this sentence had failed to penetrate +her consciousness until now! "If it was some girls I've met, I'd know +what to think!" It had come into her mind abruptly; and always, when she +sought to reassure herself, to declare her terror absurd, it returned to +confront her. Heat waves pulsed through her, she grew intolerably warm, +perspiration started from her pores, and she flung off the blankets. The +rain from the roofs was splashing on the bricks of the passage.... What +would Mr. Insall say, if he knew? and Mrs. Maturin? She could never see +them again. Now there was no one to whom to turn, she was cut off, +utterly, from humanity, an outcast. Like Lise! And only a little while +ago she and Lise had lain in that bed together! Was there not somebody - +-God? Other people believed in God, prayed to him. She tried to say, +"Oh God, deliver me from this thing!." but the words seemed a mockery. +After all, it was mechanical, it had either happened or it hadn't +happened. A life-long experience in an environment where only unpleasant +things occurred, where miracles were unknown, had effaced a fleeting, +childhood belief in miracles. Cause and effect were the rule. And if +there were a God who did interfere, why hadn't he interfered before this +thing happened? Then would have been the logical time. Why hadn't he +informed her that in attempting to escape from the treadmill in which he +had placed her, in seeking happiness, she had been courting destruction? +Why had he destroyed Lise? And if there were a God, would he comfort her +now, convey to her some message of his sympathy and love? No such +message, alas, seemed to come to her through the darkness. + +After a while--a seemingly interminable while--the siren shrieked, the +bells jangled loudly in the wet air, another day had come. Could she +face it--even the murky grey light of this that revealed the ashes and +litter of the back yard under the downpour? The act of dressing brought +a slight relief; and then, at breakfast, a numbness stole over her-- +suggested and conveyed, perchance, by the apathy of her mother. +Something had killed suffering in Hannah; perhaps she herself would +mercifully lose the power to suffer! But the thought made her shudder. +She could not, like her mother, find a silly refuge in shining dishes, in +cleaning pots and pans, or sit idle, vacant-minded, for long hours in a +spotless kitchen. What would happen to her?... Howbeit, the ache that +had tortured her became a dull, leaden pain, like that she had known at +another time -how long ago--when the suffering caused by Ditmar's +deception had dulled, when she had sat in the train on her way back to +Hampton from Boston, after seeing Lise. The pain would throb again, +unsupportably, and she would wake, and this time it would drive her--she +knew not where. + +She was certain, now, that the presage of the night was true.... + +She reached Franco-Belgian Hall to find it in an uproar. Anna Mower ran +up to her with the news that dynamite had been discovered by the police +in certain tenements of the Syrian quarter, that the tenants had been +arrested and taken to the police station where, bewildered and terrified, +they had denied any knowledge of the explosive. Dynamite had also been +found under the power house, and in the mills--the sources of Hampton's +prosperity. And Hampton believed, of course, that this was the +inevitable result of the anarchistic preaching of such enemies of society +as Jastro and Antonelli if these, indeed, had not incited the Syrians to +the deed. But it was a plot of the mill-owners, Anna insisted--they +themselves had planted the explosive, adroitly started the rumours, told +the police where the dynamite was to be found. Such was the view that +prevailed at Headquarters, pervaded the angrily buzzing crowd that stood +outside--heedless of the rain--and animated the stormy conferences in the +Salle de Reunion. + +The day wore on. In the middle of the afternoon, as she was staring out +of the window, Anna Mower returned with more news. Dynamite had been +discovered in Hawthorne Street, and it was rumoured that Antonelli and +Jastro were to be arrested. + +"You ought to go home and rest, Janet," she said kindly. + +Janet shook her head. + +"Rolfe's back," Anna informed her, after a moment. "He's talking to +Antonelli about another proclamation to let people know who's to blame +for this dynamite business. I guess he'll be in here in a minute to +dictate the draft. Say, hadn't you better let Minnie take it, and go +home?" + +"I'm not sick," Janet repeated, and Anna reluctantly left her. + +Rolfe had been absent for a week, in New York, consulting with some of +the I.W.W. leaders; with Lockhart, the chief protagonist of Syndicalism +in America, just returned from Colorado, to whom he had given a detailed +account of the Hampton strike. And Lockhart, next week, was coming to +Hampton to make a great speech and look over the ground for himself. All +this Rolfe told Janet eagerly when he entered the bibliotheque. He was +glad to get back; he had missed her. + +"But you are pale!" he exclaimed, as he seized her hand, "and how your +eyes burn! You do not take care of yourself when I am not here to watch +you." His air of solicitude, his assumption of a peculiar right to ask, +might formerly have troubled and offended her. Now she was scarcely +aware of his presence. "You feel too much--that is it you are like a +torch that consumes itself in burning. But this will soon be over, we +shall have them on their knees, the capitalists, before very long, when +it is known what they have done to-day. It is too much--they have +overreached themselves with this plot of the dynamite. + +You have missed me, a little?" + +"I have been busy," she said, releasing her hand and sitting down at her +desk and taking up her notebook. + +"You are not well," he insisted. + +"I'm all right," she replied. + +He lit a cigarette and began to pace the room--his customary manner of +preparing himself for the creative mood. After a while he began to +dictate--but haltingly. He had come here from Antonelli all primed with +fervour and indignation, but it was evident that this feeling had ebbed, +that his mind refused to concentrate on what he was saying. Despite the +magnificent opportunity to flay the capitalists which their most recent +tactics afforded him, he paused, repeated himself, and began again, +glancing from time to time reproachfully, almost resentfully at Janet. +Usually, on these occasions, he was transported, almost inebriated by his +own eloquence; but now he chafed at her listlessness, he was at a loss to +account for the withdrawal of the enthusiasm he had formerly been able to +arouse. Lacking the feminine stimulus, his genius limped. For Rolfe +there had been a woman in every strike--sometimes two. What had +happened, during his absence, to alienate the most promising of all +neophytes he had ever encountered? + +"The eyes of the world are fixed on the workers of Hampton! They must be +true to the trust their fellows have placed in them! To-day the mill- +owners, the masters, are at the end of their tether. Always +unscrupulous, they have descended to the most despicable of tactics in +order to deceive the public. But truth will prevail!..." Rolfe lit +another cigarette, began a new sentence and broke it off. Suddenly he +stood over her. "It's you!" he said. "You don't feel it, you don't help +me, you're not in sympathy." + +He bent over her, his red lips gleaming through his beard, a terrible +hunger in his lustrous eyes--the eyes of a soul to which self-denial was +unknown. His voice was thick with uncontrolled passion, his hand was +cold. + +"Janet, what has happened? I love you, you must love me--I cannot +believe that you do not. Come with me. We shall work together for the +workers--it is all nothing without you." + +For a moment she sat still, and then a pain shot through her, a pain as +sharp as a dagger thrust. She drew her hand away. + +"I can't love--I can only hate," she said. + +"But you do not hate me!" Rolfe repudiated so gross a fact. His voice +caught as in a sob. "I, who love you, who have taught you!" + +She dismissed this--what he had taught her--with a gesture which, though +slight, was all-expressive. He drew back from her. + +"Shall I tell you who has planned and carried out this plot?" he cried. +"It is Ditmar. He is the one, and he used Janes, the livery stable +keeper, the politician who brought the dynamite to Hampton, as his tool. +Half an hour before Janes got to the station in Boston he was seen by a +friend of ours talking to Ditmar in front of the Chippering offices, and +Janes had the satchel with him then. Ditmar walked to the corner with +him." + +Janet, too, had risen. + +"I don't believe it," she said. + +"Ah, I thought you wouldn't! But we have the proof that dynamite was in +the satchel, we've found the contractor from whom it was bought. I was a +fool--I might have known that you loved Ditmar." + +"I hate him!" said Janet. + +"It is the same thing," said Rolfe. + +She did not answer.... He watched her in silence as she put on her hat +and coat and left the room. + +The early dusk was gathering when she left the hall and made her way +toward the city. The huge bottle-shaped chimneys of the power plant +injected heavy black smoke into the wet air. In Faber Street the once +brilliant signs above the "ten-foot" buildings seemed dulled, the +telegraph poles starker, nakeder than ever, their wires scarcely +discernible against the smeared sky. The pedestrians were sombrely +garbed, and went about in "rubbers"--the most depressing of all articles +worn by man. Sodden piles of snow still hid the curb and gutters, but +the pavements were trailed with mud that gleamed in the light from the +shop windows. And Janet, lingering unconsciously in front of that very +emporium where Lisehad been incarcerated, the Bagatelle, stared at the +finery displayed there, at the blue tulle dress that might be purchased, +she read, for $22.99. She found herself repeating, in meaningless, +subdued tones, the words, "twenty-two ninety-nine." She even tried--just +to see if it were possible--to concentrate her mind on that dress, on the +fur muffs and tippets in the next window; to act as if this were just an +ordinary, sad February afternoon, and she herself once more just an +ordinary stenographer leading a monotonous, uneventful existence. But +she knew that this was not true, because, later on, she was going to do +something--to commit some act. She didn't know what this act would be. +Her head was hot, her temples throbbed.... + +Night had fallen, the electric arcs burned blue overhead, she was in +another street--was it Stanley? Sounds of music reached her, the rumble +of marching feet; dark, massed figures were in the distance swimming +toward her along the glistening line of the car tracks, and she heard the +shrill whistling of the doffer boys, who acted as a sort of fife corps in +these parades--which by this time had become familiar to the citizens of +Hampton. And Janet remembered when the little red book that contained +the songs had arrived at Headquarters from the west and had been +distributed by thousands among the strikers. She recalled the words of +this song, though the procession was as yet too far away for her to +distinguish them:-- + + "The People's flag is deepest red, + It shrouded oft our martyred dead, + And ere their limbs grew stiff and cold, + Their life-blood dyed its every fold." + +The song ceased, and she stood still, waiting for the procession to reach +her. A group of heavy Belgian women were marching together. Suddenly, +as by a simultaneous impulse, their voices rang out in the +Internationale--the terrible Marseillaise of the workers:-- + + "Arise, ye prisoners of starvation! + Arise, ye wretched of the earth " + +And the refrain was taken up by hundreds of throats:-- + + "'Tis the final conflict, + Let each stand in his place + +The walls of the street flung it back. On the sidewalk, pressed against +the houses, men and women heard it with white faces. But Janet was +carried on.... The scene changed, now she was gazing at a mass of human +beings hemmed in by a line of soldiers. Behind the crowd was a row of +old-fashioned brick houses, on the walls of which were patterned, by the +cold electric light, the branches of the bare elms ranged along the +sidewalk. People leaned out of the windows, like theatregoers at a play. +The light illuminated the red and white bars of the ensign, upheld by the +standard bearer of the regiment, the smaller flags flaunted by the +strikers--each side clinging hardily to the emblem of human liberty. The +light fell, too, harshly and brilliantly, on the workers in the front +rank confronting the bayonets, and these seemed strangely indifferent, as +though waiting for the flash of a photograph. A little farther on a +group of boys, hands in pockets, stared at the soldiers with bravado. +From the rear came that indescribable "booing" which those who have heard +never forget, mingled with curses and cries:-- + +"Vive la greve!" + +"To hell with the Cossacks!" + +"Kahm on--shoot!" + +The backs of the soldiers, determined, unyielding, were covered with +heavy brown capes that fell below the waist. As Janet's glance wandered +down the line it was arrested by the face of a man in a visored woollen +cap--a face that was almost sepia, in which large white eyeballs struck a +note of hatred. And what she seemed to see in it, confronting her, were +the hatred and despair of her own soul! The man might have been a +Hungarian or a Pole; the breadth of his chin was accentuated by a wide, +black moustache, his attitude was tense,--that of a maddened beast ready +to spring at the soldier in front of him. He was plainly one of those +who had reached the mental limit of endurance. + +In contrast with this foreigner, confronting him, a young lieutenant +stood motionless, his head cocked on one side, his hand grasping the club +held a little behind him, his glance meeting the other's squarely, but +with a different quality of defiance. All his faculties were on the +alert. He wore no overcoat, and the uniform fitting close to his figure, +the broad-brimmed campaign hat of felt served to bring into relief the +physical characteristics of the American Anglo-Saxon, of the +individualist who became the fighting pioneer. But Janet, save to +register the presence of the intense antagonism between the two, scarcely +noticed her fellow countryman.... Every moment she expected to see the +black man spring,--and yet movement would have marred the drama of that +consuming hatred.... + +Then, by one of those bewildering, kaleidoscopic shifts to which crowds +are subject, the scene changed, more troops arrived, little by little the +people were dispersed to drift together again by chance--in smaller +numbers--several blocks away. Perhaps a hundred and fifty were scattered +over the space formed by the intersection of two streets, where three or +four special policemen with night sticks urged them on. Not a riot, or +anything approaching it. The police were jeered, but the groups, +apparently, had already begun to scatter, when from the triangular +vestibule of a saloon on the corner darted a flame followed by an echoing +report, a woman bundled up in a shawl screamed and sank on the snow. For +an instant the little French-Canadian policeman whom the shot had missed +gazed stupidly down at her.... + +As Janet ran along the dark pavements the sound of the shot and of the +woman's shriek continued to ring in her ears. At last she stopped in +front of the warehouse beyond Mr. Tiernan's shop, staring at the darkened +windows of the flat--of the front room in which her mother now slept +alone. For a minute she stood looking at these windows, as though +hypnotized by some message they conveyed--the answer to a question +suggested by the incident that had aroused and terrified her. They drew +her, as in a trance, across the street, she opened the glass-panelled +door, remembering mechanically the trick it had of not quite closing, +turned and pushed it to and climbed the stairs. In the diningroom the +metal lamp, brightly polished, was burning as usual, its light falling on +the chequered red table-cloth, on her father's empty chair, on that +somewhat battered heirloom, the horsehair sofa. All was so familiar, and +yet so amazingly unfamiliar, so silent! At this time Edward should be +reading the Banner, her mother bustling in and out, setting the table for +supper. But not a dish was set. The ticking of the ancient clock only +served to intensify the silence. Janet entered, almost on tiptoe, made +her way to the kitchen door, and looked in. The stove was polished, the +pans bright upon the wall, and Hannah was seated in a corner, her hands +folded across a spotless apron. Her scant hair was now pure white, her +dress seemed to have fallen away from her wasted neck, which was like a +trefoil column. + +"Is that you, Janet? You hain't seen anything of your father?" + +The night before Janet had heard this question, and she had been puzzled +as to its meaning--whether in the course of the day she had seen her +father, or whether Hannah thought he was coming home. + +"He's at the mill, mother. You know he has to stay there." + +"I know," replied Hannah, in a tone faintly reminiscent of the old +aspersion. "But I've got everything ready for him in case he should +come--any time--if the strikers hain't killed him." + +"But he's safe where he is." + +"I presume they will try to kill him, before they get through," Hannah +continued evenly. "But in case he should come at any time, and I'm not +here, you tell him all those Bumpus papers are put away in the drawer of +that old chest, in the corner. I can't think what he'd do without those +papers. That is," she added, "if you're here yourself." + +"Why shouldn't you be here?" asked Janet, rather sharply. + +"I dunno, I seem to have got through." She glanced helplessly around the +kitchen. "There don't seem to be much left to keep me alive.... I guess +you'll be wanting your supper, won't you? You hain't often home these +days--whatever it is you're doing. I didn't expect you." + +Janet did not answer at once. + +"I--I have to go out again, mother," she said. + +Hannah accepted the answer as she had accepted every other negative in +life, great and small. + +"Well, I guessed you would." + +Janet made a step toward her. + +"Mother!" she said, but Hannah gazed at her uncomprehendingly. Janet +stooped convulsively, and kissed her. Straightening up, she stood +looking down at her mother for a few moments, and went out of the room, +pausing in the dining-room, to listen, but Hannah apparently had not +stirred. She took the box of matches from its accustomed place on the +shelf beside the clock, entered the dark bedroom in the front of the +flat, closing the door softly behind her. The ghostly blue light from a +distant arc came slanting in at the window, glinting on the brass knobs +of the chest of drawers-another Bumpus heirloom. She remembered that +chest from early childhood; it was one of the few pieces that, following +them in all their changes of residence, had been faithful to the end: she +knew everything in it, and the place for everything. Drawing a match +from the box, she was about to turn on the gas--but the light from the +arc would suffice. As she made her way around the walnut bed she had a +premonition of poignant anguish as yet unrealized, of anguish being held +at bay by a stronger, fiercer, more imperative emotion now demanding +expression, refusing at last to be denied. She opened the top drawer of +the chest, the drawer in which Hannah, breaking tradition, had put the +Bumpus genealogy. Edward had never kept it there. Would the other +things be in place? Groping with her hands in the left-hand corner, her +fingers clasped exultantly something heavy, something wrapped carefully +in layers of flannel. She had feared her father might have taken it to +the mill! She drew it out, unwound the flannel, and held to the light an +old-fashioned revolver, the grease glistening along its barrel. She +remembered, too, that the cartridges had lain beside it, and thrusting +her hand once more into the drawer found the box, extracting several, and +replacing the rest, closed the drawer, and crept through the dining-room +to her bedroom, where she lit the gas in order to examine the weapon-- +finally contriving, more by accident than skill, to break it. The +cartridges, of course, fitted into the empty cylinder. But before +inserting them she closed the pistol once more, cocked it, and held it +out. Her arm trembled violently as she pulled the trigger. Could she do +it? As though to refute this doubt of her ability to carry out an act +determined upon, she broke the weapon once more, loaded and closed it, +and thrust it in the pocket of her coat. Then, washing the grease from +her hands, she put on her gloves, and was about to turn out the light +when she saw reflected in the glass the red button of the I.W.W. still +pinned on her coat. This she tore off, and flung on the bureau. + +When she had kissed her mother, when she had stood hesitatingly in the +darkness of the familiar front bedroom in the presence of unsummoned +memories of a home she had believed herself to resent and despise, she +had nearly faltered. But once in the street, this weakness suddenly +vanished, was replaced by a sense of wrong that now took complete and +furious possession of her, driving her like a gale at her back. She +scarcely felt on her face the fine rain that had begun to fall once more. +Her feet were accustomed to the way. When she had turned down West +Street and almost gained the canal, it was with a shock of surprise that +she found herself confronted by a man in a long cape who held a rifle and +barred her path. She stared at him as at an apparition. + +"You can't get by here," he said. "Don't you know that?" + +She did not reply. He continued to look at her, and presently asked, in +a gentler tone:-- + +"Where did you wish to go, lady?" + +"Into the mill," she replied, "to the offices." + +"But there can't anybody go through here unless they have a pass. I'm +sorry, but that's the order." + +Her answer came so readily as to surprise her. + +"I was Mr. Ditmar's private stenographer. I have to see him." + +The sentry hesitated, and then addressed another soldier, who was near +the bridge. + +"Hi, sergeant!" he called. The sergeant came up--a conscientious Boston +clerk who had joined the militia from a sense of duty and a need for +exercise. While the sentry explained the matter he gazed at Janet. Then +be said politely:-- + +"I'm sorry, Miss, but I can't disobey orders." + +"But can't you send word to Mr. Ditmar, and tell him I want to see him?" +she asked. + +"Why, I guess so," he answered, after a moment. "What name shall I say?" + +"Miss Bumpus." + +"Bumpus," he repeated. "That's the gatekeeper's name." + +"I'm his daughter--but I want to see Mr. Ditmar." + +"Well," said the sergeant, "I'm sure it's all right, but I'll have to +send in anyway. Orders are orders. You understand?" + +She nodded as he departed. She saw him cross the bridge like a ghost +through the white mist rising from the canal. And through the mist she +could make out the fortresslike mass of the mill itself, and the blurred, +distorted lights in the paymaster's offices smeared on the white curtain +of the vapour. + +"Nasty weather," the sentry remarked, in friendly fashion. He appeared +now, despite his uniform, as a good-natured, ungainly youth. + +Janet nodded. + +"You'd ought to have brought an umbrella," he said. "I guess it'll rain +harder, before it gets through. But it's better than ten below zero, +anyhow." + +She nodded again, but he did not seem to resent her silence. He talked +about the hardship of patrolling in winter, until the sergeant came back. + +"It's all right, Miss Bumpus," he said, and touched his hat as he +escorted her to the bridge. She crossed the canal and went through the +vestibule without replying to the greeting of the night-watchman, or +noticing his curious glance; she climbed the steel-clad stairway, passed +the paymaster's offices and Mr. Orcutt's, and gained the outer office +where she had worked as a stenographer. It was dark, but sufficient +light came through Ditmar's open door to guide her beside the rail. He +had heard her step, and as she entered his room he had put his hands +heavily on his desk, in the act of rising from his chair. + +"Janet!" he said, and started toward her, but got no farther than the +corner of the desk. The sight of her heaving breast, of the peculiar +light that flashed from beneath her lashes stopped him suddenly. Her +hands were in her pockets. "What is it?" he demanded stupidly. + +But she continued to stand there, breathing so heavily that she could not +speak. It was then that he became aware of an acute danger. He did not +flinch. + +"What is it?" he repeated. + +Still she was silent. One hand was thrust deeper into its pocket, he saw +a shudder run through her, and suddenly she burst into hysterical +weeping, sinking into a chair. He stood for some moments helplessly +regarding her before he gained the presence of mind to go to the door and +lock it, returning to bend over her. + +"Don't touch me!" she said, shrinking from him. + +"For God's sake tell me what's the matter," he begged. + +She looked up at him and tried to speak, struggling against the sobs that +shook her. + +"I--I came here to--to kill you--only I can't do it." + +"To kill me!" he said, after a pause. In spite of the fact that he had +half divined her intention, the words shocked him. Whatever else may be +said of him, he did not lack courage, his alarm was not of a physical +nature. Mingled with it were emotions he himself did not understand, +caused by the unwonted sight of her loss of self-control, of her anger, +and despair. "Why did you want to kill me?" + +And again he had to wait for an answer. + +"Because you've spoiled my life--because I'm going to have a child!" + +"What do you mean? Are you?... it can't be possible." + +"It is possible, it's true--it's true. I've waited and waited, I've +suffered, I've almost gone crazy--and now I know. And I said I'd kill +you if it were so, I'd kill myself--only I can't. I'm a coward." Her +voice was drowned again by weeping. + +A child! He had never imagined such a contingency! And as he leaned +back against the desk, his emotions became chaotic. The sight of her, +even as she appeared crazed by anger, had set his passion aflame--for the +intensity and fierceness of her nature had always made a strong appeal to +dominant qualities in Ditmar's nature. And then--this announcement! +Momentarily it turned his heart to water. Now that he was confronted by +an exigency that had once vicariously yet deeply disturbed him in a +similar affair of a friend of his, the code and habit of a lifetime +gained an immediate ascendency--since then he had insisted that this +particular situation was to be avoided above all others. And his mind +leaped to possibilities. She had wished to kill him--would she remain +desperate enough to ruin him? Even though he were not at a crisis in his +affairs, a scandal of this kind would be fatal. + +"I didn't know," he said desperately, "I couldn't guess. Do you think I +would have had this thing happen to you? I was carried away--we were +both carried away --" + +"You planned it!" she replied vehemently, without looking up. "You +didn't care for me, you only--wanted me." + +"That isn't so--I swear that isn't so. I loved you I love you." + +"Oh, do you think I believe that?" she exclaimed. + +"I swear it--I'll prove it!" he protested. Still under the influence of +an acute anxiety, he was finding it difficult to gather his wits, to +present his case. "When you left me that day the strike began--when you +left me without giving me a chance--you'll never know how that hurt me." + +"You'll never know how it hurt me!" she interrupted. + +"Then why, in God's name, did you do it? I wasn't myself, then, you +ought to have seen that. And when I heard from Caldwell here that you'd +joined those anarchists--" + +"They're no worse than you are--they only want what you've got," she +said. + +He waved this aside. "I couldn't believe it--I wouldn't believe it until +somebody saw you walking with one of them to their Headquarters. Why did +you do it?" + +"Because I know how they feel, I sympathize with the strikers, I want +them to win--against you!" She lifted her head and looked at him, and in +spite of the state of his feelings he felt a twinge of admiration at her +defiance. + +"Because you love me!" he said. + +"Because I hate you," she answered. + +And yet a spark of exultation leaped within him at the thought that love +had caused this apostasy. He had had that suspicion before, though it +was a poor consolation when he could not reach her. Now she had made it +vivid. A woman's logic, or lack of logic--her logic. + +"Listen!" he pleaded. "I tried to forget you--I tried to keep myself +going all the time that I mightn't think of you, but I couldn't help +thinking of you, wanting you, longing for you. I never knew why you left +me, except that you seemed to believe I was unkind to you, and that +something had happened. It wasn't my fault--" he pulled himself up +abruptly. + +"I found out what men were like," she said. "A man made my sister a +woman of the streets--that's what you've done to me." + +He winced. And the calmness she had regained, which was so +characteristic of her, struck him with a new fear. + +"I'm not that kind of a man," he said. + +But she did not answer. His predicament became more trying. + +"I'll take care of you," he assured her, after a moment. "If you'll only +trust me, if you'll only come to me I'll see that no harm comes to you." + +She regarded him with a sort of wonder--a look that put a fine edge of +dignity and scorn to her words when they came. + +"I told you I didn't want to be taken care of--I wanted to kill you, and +kill myself. I don't know why I can't what prevents me." She rose. +"But I'm not going to trouble you any more--you'll never hear of me +again." + +She would not trouble him, she was going away, he would never hear of her +again! Suddenly, with the surge of relief he experienced, came a pang. +He could not let her go--it was impossible. It seemed that he had never +understood his need of her, his love for her, until now that he had +brought her to this supreme test of self-revelation. She had wanted to +kill him, yes, to kill herself--but how could he ever have believed that +she would stoop to another method of retaliation? As she stood before +him the light in her eyes still wet with tears--transfigured her. + +"I love you, Janet," he said. "I want you to marry me." + +"You don't understand," she answered. "You never did. If I had married +you, I'd feel just the same--but it isn't really as bad as if we had been +married." + +"Not as bad!" he exclaimed. + +"If we were married, you'd think you had rights over me," she explained, +slowly. "Now you haven't any, I can go away. I couldn't live with you. +I know what happened to me, I've thought it all out, I wanted to get away +from the life I was leading--I hated it so, I was crazy to have a chance, +to see the world, to get nearer some of the beautiful things I knew were +there, but couldn't reach.... And you came along. I did love you, I +would have done anything for you--it was only when I saw that you didn't +really love me that I began to hate you, that I wanted to get away from +you, when I saw that you only wanted me until you should get tired of me. +That's your nature, you can't help it. And it would have been the same +if we were married, only worse, I couldn't have stood it any more than I +can now--I'd have left you. You say you'll marry me now, but that's +because you're sorry for me--since I've said I'm not going to trouble you +any more. You'll be glad I've gone. You may--want me now, but that +isn't love. When you say you love me, I can't believe you." + +"You must believe me! And the child, Janet,--our child--" + +"If the world was right," she said, "I could have this child and nobody +would say anything. I could support it--I guess I can anyway. And when +I'm not half crazy I want it. Maybe that's the reason I couldn't do what +I tried to do just now. It's natural for a woman to want a child-- +especially a woman like me, who hasn't anybody or anything." + +Ditmar's state of mind was too complicated to be wholly described. As +the fact had been gradually brought home to him that she had not come as +a supplicant, that even in her misery she was free, and he helpless, +there revived in him wild memories of her body, of the kisses he had +wrung from her--and yet this physical desire was accompanied by a +realization of her personality never before achieved. And because he had +hitherto failed to achieve it, she had escaped him. This belated, +surpassing glimpse of what she essentially was, and the thought of the +child their child--permeating his passion, transformed it into a feeling +hitherto unexperienced and unimagined. He hovered over her, pitifully, +his hands feeling for her, yet not daring to touch her. + +"Can't you see that I love you?" he cried, "that I'm ready to marry you +now, to-night. You must love me, I won't believe that you don't after-- +after all we have been to each other." + +But even then she could not believe. Something in her, made hard by the +intensity of her suffering, refused to melt. And her head was throbbing, +and she scarcely heard him. + +"I can't stay any longer," she said, getting to her feet. "I can't bear +it." + +"Janet, I swear I'll care for you as no woman was ever cared for. For +God's sake listen to me, give me a chance, forgive me!" He seized her +arm; she struggled, gently but persistently, to free herself from his +hold. + +"Let me go, please." All the passionate anger had gone out of her, and +she spoke in a monotone, as one under hypnosis, dominated by a resolution +which, for the present at least, he was powerless to shake. + +"But to-morrow?" he pleaded. "You'll let me see you to-morrow, when +you've had time to think it over, when you realize that I love you and +want you, that I haven't meant to be cruel--that you've misjudged me-- +thought I was a different kind of a man. I don't blame you for that, I +guess something happened to make you believe it. I've got enemies. For +the sake of the child, Janet, if for nothing else, you'll come back to +me! You're--you're tired tonight, you're not yourself. I don't wonder, +after all you've been through. If you'd only come to me before! God +knows what I've suffered, too!" + +"Let me go, please," she repeated, and this time, despairingly, he obeyed +her, a conviction of her incommuy nica,bility overwhelming him. He +turned and, fumbling with the key, unlocked the door and opened it. +"I'll see you to-morrow," he faltered once more, and watched her as she +went through the darkened outer room until she gained the lighted hallway +beyond and disappeared. Her footsteps died away into silence. He was +trembling. For several minutes he stood where she had left him, tortured +by a sense of his inability to act, to cope with this, the great crisis +of his life, when suddenly the real significance of that strange last +look in her eyes was borne home to him. And he had allowed her to go out +into the streets alone! Seizing his hat and coat, he fairly ran out of +the office and down the stairs and across the bridge. + +"Which way did that young lady go?" he demanders of the sergeant. + +"Why--ug West Street, Mr. Ditmar." + +He remembered where Filhnore Street was; he had, indeed, sought it out +one evening in the hope of meeting her. He hurried toward it now, his +glance strained ahead to catch sight of her figure under a lamp. But he +reached Fillmore Street without overtaking her, and in the rain he stood +gazing at the mean houses there, wondering in which of them she lived, +and whether she had as yet come home.... + +After leaving Ditmar Janet, probably from force of habit, had indeed gone +through West Street, and after that she walked on aimlessly. It was +better to walk than to sit alone in torment, to be gnawed by that Thing +from which she had so desperately attempted to escape, and failed. She +tried to think why she had failed.... Though the rain fell on her +cheeks, her mouth was parched; and this dryness of her palate, this +physical sense of lightness, almost of dizziness, were intimately yet +incomprehensibly part and parcel of the fantastic moods into which she +floated. It was as though, in trying to solve a problem, she caught +herself from time to time falling off to sleep. In her waking moments +she was terror-stricken. Scarce an hour had passed since, in a terrible +exaltation at having found a solution, she had gone to Ditmar's office in +the mill. What had happened to stay her? It was when she tried to find +the cause of the weakness that so abruptly had overtaken her, or to cast +about for a plan to fit the new predicament to which her failure had +sentenced her, that the fantasies intruded. She heard Ditmar speaking, +the arguments were curiously familiar--but they were not Ditmar's! They +were her father's, and now it was Edward's voice to which she listened, +he was telling her how eminently proper it was that she should marry +Ditmar, because of her Bumpus blood. And this made her laugh.... Again, +Ditmar was kissing her hair. He had often praised it. She had taken it +down and combed it out for him; it was like a cloud, he said--so fine; +its odour made him faint--and then the odour changed, became that of the +detested perfume of Miss Lottie Myers! Even that made Janet smile! But +Ditmar was strong, he was powerful, he was a Fact, why not go back to him +and let him absorb and destroy her? That annihilation would be joy.... + +It could not have been much later than seven o'clock when she found +herself opposite the familiar, mulberry-shingled Protestant church. The +light from its vestibule made a gleaming square on the wet sidewalk, and +into this area, from the surrounding darkness, came silhouetted figures +of men and women holding up umbrellas; some paused for a moment's chat, +their voices subdued by an awareness of the tabernacle. At the sight of +this tiny congregation something stirred within her. She experienced a +twinge of surprise at the discovery that other people in the world, in +Hampton, were still leading tranquil, untormented existences. They were +contented, prosperous, stupid, beyond any need of help from God, and yet +they were going to prayer-meeting to ask something! He refused to find +her in the dark streets. Would she find Him if she went in there? and +would He help her? + +The bell in the tower began to clang, with heavy, relentless strokes-- +like physical blows from which she flinched--each stirring her reluctant, +drowsy soul to a quicker agony. From the outer blackness through which +she fled she gazed into bright rooms of homes whose blinds were left +undrawn, as though to taunt and mock the wanderer. She was an outcast! +Who henceforth would receive her save those, unconformed and +unconformable, sentenced to sin in this realm of blackness? Henceforth +from all warmth and love she was banished.... In the middle of the +Stanley Street bridge she stopped to lean against the wet rail; the mill +lights were scattered, dancing points of fire over the invisible swift +waters, and she raised her eyes presently to the lights themselves, +seeking one unconsciously--Ditmar's! Yes, it was his she sought; though +it was so distant, sometimes it seemed to burn like a red star, and then +to flicker and disappear. She could not be sure.... Something chill and +steely was in the pocket of her coat--it made a heavy splash in the water +when she dropped it. The river could not be so very cold! She wished +she could go down like that into forgetfulness. But she couldn't.... +Where was Lise now?... It would be so easy just to drop over that +parapet and be whirled away, and down and down. Why couldn't she? Well, +it was because--because--she was going to have a child. Well, if she had +a child to take care of, she would not be so lonely--she would have +something to love. She loved it now, as though she felt it quickening +within her, she wanted it, to lavish on it all of a starved affection. +She seemed actually to feel in her arms its soft little body pressed +against her. Claude Ditmar's child! And she suddenly recalled, as an +incident of the remote past, that she had told him she wanted it! + +This tense craving for it she felt now was somehow the answer to an +expressed wish which had astonished her. Perhaps that was the reason why +she had failed to do what she had tried to do, to shoot Ditmar and +herself! It was Ditmar's child, Ditmar's and hers! He had loved her, +long ago, and just now--was it just now?--he had said he loved her still, +he had wanted to marry her. Then why had she run away from him? Why had +she taken the child into outer darkness, to be born without a father,-- +when she loved Ditmar? Wasn't that one reason why she wanted the child? +why, even in her moments of passionate hatred she recalled having been +surprised by some such yearning as now came over her? And for an +interval, a brief interval, she viewed him with startling clarity. Not +because he embodied any ideal did she love him, but because he was what +he was, because he had overcome her will, dominated and possessed her, +left his mark upon her indelibly. He had been cruel to her, willing to +sacrifice her to his way of life, to his own desires, but he loved her, +for she had seen, if not heeded in his eyes the look that a woman never +mistakes! She remembered it now, and the light in his window glowed +again, like a star to guide her back to him. It was drawing her, +irresistibly.... + +The sentry recognized her as she came along the canal. + +"Mr. Ditmar's gone," he told her. + +"Gone!" she repeated. "Gone!" + +"Why, yes, about five minutes after you left he was looking for you--he +asked the sergeant about you." + +"And--he won't be back?" + +"I guess not," answered the man, sympathetically. "He said good-night." + +She turned away dully. The strength and hope with which she had been so +unexpectedly infused while gazing from the bridge at his window had +suddenly ebbed; her legs ached, her feet were wet, and she shivered, +though her forehead burned. The world became distorted, people flitted +past her like weird figures of a dream, the myriad lights of Faber Street +were blurred and whirled in company with the electric signs. Seeking to +escape from their confusion she entered a side street leading north, only +to be forcibly seized by some one who darted after her from the sidewalk. + +"Excuse me, but you didn't see that automobile," he said, as he released +her. + +Shaken, she went on through several streets to find herself at length +confronted by a pair of shabby doors that looked familiar, and pushing +one of them open, baited at the bottom of a stairway to listen. The +sound of cheerful voices camp to her from above; she started to climb-- +even with the help of the rail it seemed as if she would never reach the +top of that stairway. But at last she stood in a loft where long tables +were set, and at the end of one of these, sorting out spoons and dishes, +three women and a man were chatting and laughing together. Janet was +troubled because she could not remember who the man was, although she +recognized his bold profile, his voice and gestures.... At length one of +the women said something in a low tone, and he looked around quickly and +crossed the room. + +"Why, it's you!" he said, and suddenly she recalled his name. + +"Mr. Insall!" + +But his swift glance had noticed the expression in her eyes, the sagged +condition of her clothes, the attitude that proclaimed exhaustion. He +took her by the arm and led her to the little storeroom, turning on the +light and placing her in a chair. Darkness descended on her.... + +Mrs. Maturin, returning from an errand, paused for an instant in the +doorway, and ran forward and bent over Janet. + +"Oh, Brooks, what is it--what's happened to her?" + +"I don't know," he replied, "I didn't have a chance to ask her. I'm +going for a doctor." + +"Leave her to me, and call Miss Hay." Mrs. Maturin was instantly +competen .... And when Insall came back from the drug store where he had +telephoned she met him at the head of the stairs. "We've done everything +we can, Edith Hay has given her brandy, and gone off for dry clothes, and +we've taken all the children's things out of the drawers and laid her on +the floor, but she hasn't come to. Poor child,--what can have happened +to her? Is the doctor coming?" + +"Right away," said Insall, and Mrs. Maturin went back into the storeroom. +Miss Hay brought the dry clothes before the physician arrived. + +"It's probably pneumonia," he explained to Insall a little later. "She +must go to the hospital--but the trouble is all our hospitals are pretty +full, owing to the sickness caused by the strike." He hesitated. "Of +course, if she has friends, she could have better care in a private +institution just now." + +"Oh, she has friends," said Mrs. Maturin. "Couldn't we take her to our +little hospital at Silliston, doctor? It's only four miles--that isn't +much in an automobile, and the roads are good now." + +"Well, the risk isn't much greater, if you have a closed car, and she +would, of course, be better looked after," the physician consented. + +"I'll see to it at once," said Insall.... + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +The Martha Wootton Memorial Hospital was the hobby of an angel alumnus of +Silliston. It was situated in Hovey's Lane, but from the window of the +white-enameled room in which she lay Janet could see the bare branches of +the Common elms quivering to the spring gusts, could watch, day by day, +the grass changing from yellow-brown to vivid green in the white +sunlight. In the morning, when the nurse opened the blinds, that +sunlight swept radiantly into the room, lavish with its caresses; always +spending, always giving, the symbol of a loving care that had been poured +out on her, unasked and unsought. It was sweet to rest, to sleep. And +instead of the stringent monster-cry of the siren, of the discordant +clamour of the mill bells, it was sweet yet strange to be awakened by +silvertoned chimes proclaiming peaceful hours. At first she surrendered +to the spell, and had no thought of the future. For a little while every +day, Mrs. Maturin read aloud, usually from books of poetry. And knowing +many of the verses by heart, she would watch Janet's face, framed in the +soft dark hair that fell in two long plaits over her shoulders. For +Janet little guessed the thought that went into the choosing of these +books, nor could she know of the hours spent by this lady pondering over +library shelves or consulting eagerly with Brooks Insall. Sometimes +Augusta Maturin thought of Janet as a wildflower--one of the rare, shy +ones, hiding under its leaves; sprung up in Hampton, of all places, +crushed by a heedless foot, yet miraculously not destroyed, and already +pushing forth new and eager tendrils. And she had transplanted it. To +find the proper nourishment, to give it a chance to grow in a native, +congenial soil, such was her breathless task. And so she had selected +"The Child's Garden of Verses." + + "I should like to rise and go + Where the golden apples grow"... + +When she laid down her book it was to talk, perhaps, of Silliston. +Established here before the birth of the Republic, its roots were bedded +in the soil of a racial empire, to a larger vision of which Augusta +Maturin clung: an empire of Anglo-Saxon tradition which, despite +disagreements and conflicts--nay, through them--developed imperceptibly +toward a sublimer union, founded not on dominion, but on justice and +right. She spoke of the England she had visited on her wedding journey, +of the landmarks and literature that also through generations have been +American birthrights; and of that righteous self-assertion and +independence which, by protest and even by war, America had contributed +to the democracy of the future. Silliston, indifferent to cults and +cataclysms, undisturbed by the dark tides flung westward to gather in +deposits in other parts of the land, had held fast to the old tradition, +stood ready to do her share to transform it into something even nobler +when the time should come. Simplicity and worth and beauty--these +elements at least of the older Republic should not perish, but in the end +prevail. + +She spoke simply of these things, connecting them with a Silliston whose +spirit appealed to all that was inherent and abiding in the girl. All +was not chaos: here at least, a beacon burned with a bright and steady +flame. And she spoke of Andrew Silliston, the sturdy colonial prototype +of the American culture, who had fought against his King, who had spent +his modest fortune to found this seat of learning, believing as he did +that education is the cornerstone of republics; divining that lasting +unity is possible alone by the transformation of the individual into the +citizen through voluntary bestowal of service and the fruits of labour. +Samuel Wootton, the Boston merchant who had given the hospital, was +Andrew's true descendant, imbued with the same half-conscious intuition +that builds even better that it reeks. And Andrew, could he have returns +to earth in his laced coat and long silk waistcoat, would still recognize +his own soul in Silliston Academy, the soul of his creed and race. + + "Away down the river, + A hundred miles or more, + Other little children + Shall bring my boats ashore."... + +Janet drew in a great breath, involuntarily. These were moments when it +seemed that she could scarcely contain what she felt of beauty and +significance, when the ecstasy and pain were not to be borne. And +sometimes, as she listened to Mrs. Maturin's voice, she wept in silence. +Again a strange peace descended on her, the peace of an exile come home; +if not to remain, at least to know her own land and people before faring +forth. She would not think of that faring yet awhile, but strive to live +and taste the present--and yet as life flowed back into her veins that +past arose to haunt her, she yearned to pour it out to her new friend, to +confess all that had happened to her. Why couldn't she? But she was +grateful because Mrs. Maturin betrayed no curiosity. Janet often lay +watching her, puzzled, under the spell of a frankness, an ingenuousness, +a simplicity she had least expected to find in one who belonged to such a +learned place as that of Silliston. But even learning, she was +discovering, could be amazingly simple. Freely and naturally Mrs. +Maturin dwelt on her own past, on the little girl of six taken from her +the year after her husband died, on her husband himself, once a professor +here, and who, just before his last illness, had published a brilliant +book on Russian literature which resulted in his being called to Harvard. +They had gone to Switzerland instead, and Augusta Maturin had come back +to Silliston. She told Janet of the loon-haunted lake, hemmed in by the +Laurentian hills, besieged by forests, where she had spent her girlhood +summers with her father, Professor Wishart, of the University of Toronto. +There, in search of health, Gifford Maturin had come at her father's +suggestion to camp. + +Janet, of course, could not know all of that romance, though she tried to +picture it from what her friend told her. Augusta Wishart, at six and +twenty, had been one of those magnificent Canadian women who are most at +home in the open; she could have carried Gifford Maturinout of the +wilderness on her back. She was five feet seven, modelled in proportion, +endowed by some Celtic ancestor with that dark chestnut hair which, +because of its abundance, she wore braided and caught up in a heavy knot +behind her head. Tanned by the northern sun, kneeling upright in a +canoe, she might at a little distance have been mistaken for one of the +race to which the forests and waters had once belonged. The instinct of +mothering was strong in her, and from the beginning she had taken the shy +and delicate student under her wing, recognizing in him one of the +physically helpless dedicated to a supreme function. He was forever +catching colds, his food disagreed with him, and on her own initiative +she discharged his habitant cook and supplied him with one of her own +choosing. When overtaken by one of his indispositions she paddled him +about the lake with lusty strokes, first placing a blanket over his +knees, and he submitted: he had no pride of that sort, he was utterly +indifferent to the figure he cut beside his Amazon. His gentleness of +disposition, his brilliant conversations with those whom, like her +father, he knew and trusted, captivated Augusta. At this period of her +life she was awakening to the glories of literature and taking a special +course in that branch. He talked to her of Gogol, Turgenief, and +Dostoievsky, and seated on the log piazza read in excellent French "Dead +Souls," "Peres et Enfants," and "The Brothers Karamazoff." At the end of +August he went homeward almost gaily, quite ignorant of the arrow in his +heart, until he began to miss Augusta Wishart's ministrations--and +Augusta Wishart herself.... Then had followed that too brief period of +intensive happiness.... + +The idea of remarriage had never occurred to her. At eight and thirty, +though tragedy had left its mark, it had been powerless to destroy the +sweetness of a nature of such vitality as hers. The innate necessity of +loving remained, and as time went on had grown more wistful and +insistent. Insall and her Silliston neighbours were wont, indeed, gently +to rally her on her enthusiams, while understanding and sympathizing with +this need in her. A creature of intuition, Janet had appealed to her +from the beginning, arousing first her curiosity, and then the maternal +instinct that craved a mind to mould, a soul to respond to her touch.... + +Mrs. Maturin often talked to Janet of Insall, who had, in a way, long +been connected with Silliston. In his early wandering days, when +tramping over New England, he used unexpectedly to turn up at Dr. +Ledyard's, the principal's, remain for several weeks and disappear again. +Even then he, had been a sort of institution, a professor emeritus in +botany, bird lore, and woodcraft, taking the boys on long walks through +the neighbouring hills; and suddenly he had surprised everybody by +fancying the tumble-down farmhouse in Judith's Lane, which he had +restored with his own hands into the quaintest of old world dwellings. +Behind it he had made a dam in the brook, and put in a water wheel that +ran his workshop. In play hours the place was usually overrun by +boys.... But sometimes the old craving for tramping would overtake him, +one day his friends would find the house shut up, and he would be absent +for a fortnight, perhaps for a month--one never knew when he was going, +or when he would return. He went, like his hero, Silas Simpkins, through +the byways of New England, stopping at night at the farm-houses, or often +sleeping out under the stars. And then, perhaps, he would write another +book. He wrote only when he felt like writing. + +It was this book of Insall's, "The Travels of Silas Simpkins,"rather than +his "Epworth Green" or "The Hermit of Blue Mountain," that Mrs. Maturin +chose to read to Janet. Unlike the sage of Walden, than whom he was more +gregarious, instead of a log house for his castle Silas Simpkins chose a +cart, which he drove in a most leisurely manner from the sea to the +mountains, penetrating even to hamlets beside the silent lakes on the +Canadian border, and then went back to the sea again. Two chunky grey +horses with wide foreheads and sagacious eyes propelled him at the rate +of three miles an hour; for these, as their master, had learned the +lesson that if life is to be fully savoured it is not to be bolted. +Silas cooked and ate, and sometimes read under the maples beside the +stone walls: usually he slept in the cart in the midst of the assortment +of goods that proclaimed him, to the astute, an expert in applied +psychology. At first you might have thought Silos merely a peddler, but +if you knew your Thoreau you would presently begin to perceive that +peddling was the paltry price he paid for liberty. Silos was in a way a +sage--but such a human sage! He never intruded with theories, he never +even hinted at the folly of the mortals who bought or despised his goods, +or with whom he chatted by the wayside, though he may have had his ideas +on the subject: it is certain that presently one began to have one's own: +nor did he exclaim with George Sand, " Il n'y a rien de plus betement +mechant que l'habitant des petites villes!" Somehow the meannesses and +jealousies were accounted for, if not excused. To understand is to +pardon. + +It was so like Insall, this book, in its whimsicality, in its feeling of +space and freedom, in its hidden wisdom that gradually revealed itself as +one thought it over before falling off to sleep! New England in the +early summer! Here, beside the tender greens of the Ipswich downs was +the sparkling cobalt of the sea, and she could almost smell its cool salt +breath mingling with the warm odours of hay and the pungent scents of +roadside flowers. Weathered grey cottages were scattered over the +landscape, and dark copses of cedars, while oceanward the eye was caught +by the gleam of a lighthouse or a lonely sail. + +Even in that sandy plain, covered with sickly, stunted pines and burned +patches, stretching westward from the Merrimac, Silas saw beauty and +colour, life in the once prosperous houses not yet abandoned.... +Presently, the hills, all hyacinth blue, rise up against the sunset, and +the horses' feet are on the "Boston Road"--or rud, according to the +authorized pronunciation of that land. Hardly, indeed, in many places, a +"rud" to-day, reverting picturesquely into the forest trail over which +the early inland settlers rode their horses or drove their oxen with +upcountry produce to the sea. They were not a people who sought the +easiest way, and the Boston Road reflects their characters: few valleys +are deep enough to turn it aside; few mountains can appal it: railroads +have given it a wide berth. Here and there the forest opens out to +reveal, on a knoll or "flat," a forgotten village or tavern-stand. Over +the high shelf of Washington Town it runs where the air is keen and the +lakes are blue, where long-stemmed wild flowers nod on its sunny banks, +to reach at length the rounded, classic hills and sentinel mountain that +mark the sheep country of the Connecticut.... + +It was before Janet's convalescence began that Mrs. Maturin had consulted +Insall concerning her proposed experiment in literature. Afterwards he +had left Silliston for a lumber camp on a remote river in northern Maine, +abruptly to reappear, on a mild afternoon late in April, in Augusta +Maturin's garden. The crocuses and tulips were in bloom, and his friend, +in a gardening apron, was on her knees, trowel in hand, assisting a hired +man to set out marigolds and snapdragons. + +"Well, it's time you were home again," she exclaimed, as she rose to +greet him and led him to a chair on the little flagged terrace beside the +windows of her library. "I've got so much to tell you about our +invalid." + +"Our invalid!" Insall retorted. + +"Of course. I look to you to divide the responsibility with me, and +you've shirked by running off to Maine. You found her, you know--and +she's really remarkable." + +"Now see here, Augusta, you can't expect me to share the guardianship of +an attractive and--well, a dynamic young woman. If she affects you this +way, what will she do to me? I'm much too susceptible." + +"Susceptible" she scoffed. "But you can't get out of it. I need you. +I've never been so interested and so perplexed in my life." + +"How is she?" Insall asked. + +"Frankly, I'm worried," said Mrs. Maturin. "At first she seemed to be +getting along beautifully. I read to her, a little every day, and it was +wonderful how she responded to it. I'll tell you about that I've got so +much to tell you! Young Dr. Trent is puzzled, too, it seems there are +symptoms in the case for which he cannot account. Some three weeks ago +he asked me what I made out of her, and I can't make anything--that's the +trouble, except that she seems pathetically grateful, and that I've grown +absurdly fond of her. But she isn't improving as fast as she should, and +Dr. Trent doesn't know whether or not to suspect functional +complications. Her constitution seems excellent, her vitality unusual. +Trent's impressed by her, he inclines to the theory that she has +something on her mind, and if this is so she should get rid of it, tell +it to somebody--in short, tell it to me. I know she's fond of me, but +she's so maddeningly self-contained, and at moments when I look at her +she baffles me, she makes me feel like an atom. Twenty times at least +I've almost screwed up my courage to ask her, but when it comes to the +point, I simply can't do it." + +"You ought to be able to get at it, if any one can," said Insall. + +"I've a notion it may be connected with the strike," Augusta Maturin +continued. "I never could account for her being mixed up in that, +plunging into Syndicalism. It seemed so foreign to her nature. I wish +I'd waited a little longer before telling her about the strike, but one +day she asked me how it had come out--and she seemed to be getting along +so nicely I didn't see any reason for not telling her. I said that the +strike was over, that the millowners had accepted the I.W.W. terms, but +that Antonelli and Jastro had been sent to jail and were awaiting trial +because they had been accused of instigating the murder of a woman who +was shot by a striker aiming at a policeman. It seems that she had seen +that! She told me so quite casually. But she was interested, and I went +on to mention how greatly the strikers were stirred by the arrests, how +they paraded in front of the jail, singing, and how the feeling was +mostly directed against Mr. Ditmar, because he was accused of instigating +the placing of dynamite in the tenements." + +"And you spoke of Mr. Ditmar's death?" Insall inquired. + +"Why yes, I told her how he had been shot in Dover Street by a demented +Italian, and if it hadn't been proved that the Italian was insane and not +a mill worker, the result of the strike might have been different." + +"How did she take it?" + +"Well, she was shocked, of course. She sat up in bed, staring at me, and +then leaned back on the pillows again. I pretended not to notice it--but +I was sorry I'd said anything about it." + +"She didn't say anything?" + +"Not a word." + +"Didn't you know that, before the strike, she was Ditmar's private +stenographer?" + +"No!" Augusta Maturin exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me?" + +"It never occurred to me to tell you," Insall replied. + +"That must have something to do with it!" said Mrs. Maturin. + +Insall got up and walked to the end of the terrace, gazing at a bluebird +on the edge of the lawn. + +"Well, not necessarily," he said, after a while. "Did you ever find out +anything about her family?" + +"Oh, yes, I met the father once, he's been out two or three times, on +Sunday, and came over here to thank me for what I'd done. The mother +doesn't come--she has some trouble, I don't know exactly what. Brooks, I +wish you could see the father, he's so typically unique--if one may use +the expression. A gatekeeper at the Chipperiug Mills!" + +"A gatekeeper?" + +"Yes, and I'm quite sure he doesn't understand to this day how he became +one, or why. He's delightfully naive on the subject of genealogy, and I +had the Bumpus family by heart before he left. That's the form his +remnant of the intellectual curiosity of his ancestors takes. He was +born in Dolton, which was settled by the original Bumpus, back in the +Plymouth Colony days, and if he were rich he'd have a library stuffed +with gritty, yellow-backed books and be a leading light in the Historical +Society. He speaks with that nicety of pronunciation of the old New +Englander, never slurring his syllables, and he has a really fine face, +the kind of face one doesn't often see nowadays. I kept looking at it, +wondering what was the matter with it, and at last I realized what it +lacked--will, desire, ambition,--it was what a second-rate sculptor might +have made of Bradford, for instance. But there is a remnant of fire in +him. Once, when he spoke of the strike, of the foreigners, he grew quite +indignant." + +"He didn't tell you why his daughter had joined the strikers?" Insall +asked. + +"He was just as much at sea about that as you and I are. Of course I +didn't ask him--he asked me if I knew. It's only another proof of her +amazing reticence. And I can imagine an utter absence of sympathy +between them. He accounts for her, of course; he's probably the +unconscious transmitter of qualities the Puritans possessed and tried to +smother. Certainly the fires are alight in her, and yet it's almost +incredible that he should have conveyed them. Of course I haven't seen +the mother." + +"It's curious he didn't mention her having been Ditmar's stenographer," +Insall put in. "Was that reticence?" + +"I hardly think so," Augusta Maturin replied. "It may have been, but the +impression I got was of an incapacity to feel the present. All his +emotions are in the past, most of his conversation was about Bumpuses who +are dead and buried, and his pride in Janet--for he has a pride--seems to +exist because she is their representative. It's extraordinary, but he +sees her present situation, her future, with extraordinary optimism; he +apparently regards her coming to Silliston, even in the condition in +which we found her, as a piece of deserved fortune for which she has to +thank some virtue inherited from her ancestors! Well, perhaps he's +right. If she were not unique, I shouldn't want to keep her here. It's +pure selfishness. I told Mr. Bumpus I expected to find work for her." + +Mrs. Maturin returned Insall's smile. "I suppose you're too polite to +say that I'm carried away by my enthusiasms. But you will at least do me +the justice to admit that they are rare and--discriminating, as a +connoisseur's should be. I think even you will approve of her." + +"Oh, I have approved of her--that's the trouble." + +Mrs. Maturin regarded him for a moment in silence. + +"I wish you could have seen her when I began to read those verses of +Stevenson's. It was an inspirations your thinking of them." + +"Did I think of them?" + +"You know you did. You can't escape your responsibility. Well, I felt +like--like a gambler, as though I were staking everything on a throw. +And, after I began, as if I were playing on some rare instrument. She +lay there, listening, without uttering a word, but somehow she seemed to +be interpreting them for me, giving them a meaning and a beauty I hadn't +imagined. Another time I told her about Silliston, and how this little +community for over a century and a half had tried to keep its standard +flying, to carry on the work begun by old Andrew, and I thought of those +lines, + + "Other little children + Shall bring my boats ashore.' + +That particular application just suddenly, occurred to me, but she +inspired it." + +"You're a born schoolma'am," Insall laughed. + +"I'm much too radical for a schoohna'am," she declared. "No board of +trustees would put up with me--not even Silliston's! We've kept the +faith, but we do move slowly, Brooks. Even tradition grows, and +sometimes our blindness here to changes, to modern, scientific facts, +fairly maddens me. I read her that poem of Moody's--you know it:-- + + `Here, where the moors stretch free + In the high blue afternoon, + Are the marching sun and the talking sea.' + +and those last lines:-- + + `But thou, vast outbound ship of souls, + What harbour town for thee? + What shapes, when thy arriving tolls, + Shall crowd the banks to see? + Shall all the happy shipmates then + Stand singing brotherly? + Or shall a haggard, ruthless few + Warp her over and bring her to, + While the many broken souls of me + Fester down in the slaver's pen, + And nothing to say or do?' + +I was sorry afterwards, I could see that she was tremendously excited. +And she made me feel as if I, too, had been battened down in that hold +and bruised and almost strangled. I often wonder whether she has got out +of it into the light--whether we can rescue her." Mrs. Maturin paused. + +"What do you mean?" Insall asked. + +"Well, it's difficult to describe, what I feel--she's such a perplexing +mixture of old New England and modernity, of a fatalism, and an aliveness +that fairly vibrates. At first, when she began to recover, I was +conscious only of the vitality--but lately I feel the other quality. It +isn't exactly the old Puritan fatalism, or even the Greek, it's oddly +modern, too, almost agnostic, I should say,--a calm acceptance of the +hazards of life, of nature, of sun and rain and storm alike--very +different from the cheap optimism one finds everywhere now. She isn't +exactly resigned--I don't say that--I know she can be rebellious. And +she's grateful for the sun, yet she seems to have a conviction that the +clouds will gather again.... The doctor says she may leave the hospital +on Monday, and I'm going to bring her over here for awhile. Then," she +added insinuatingly, "we can collaborate." + +"I think I'll go back to Maine," Insall exclaimed. + +"If you desert me, I shall never speak to you again," said Mrs. Maturin. + +"Janet," said Mrs. Maturin the next day, as she laid down the book from +which she was reading, "do you remember that I spoke to you once in +Hampton of coming here to Silliston? Well, now we've got you here, we +don't want to lose you. I've been making inquiries; quite a number of +the professors have typewriting to be done, and they will be glad to give +their manuscripts to you instead of sending them to Boston. And there's +Brooks Insall too--if he ever takes it into his head to write another +book. You wouldn't have any trouble reading his manuscript, it's like +script. Of course it has to be copied. You can board with Mrs. Case-- +I've arranged that, too. But on Monday I'm going to take you to my +house, and keep you until you're strong enough to walk." + +Janet's eyes were suddenly bright with tears. + +"You'll stay?" + +"I can't," answered Janet. "I couldn't." + +"But why not? Have you any other plans?" + +"No, I haven't any plans, but--I haven't the right to stay here." +Presently she raised her face to her friend. "Oh Mrs. Maturin, I'm so +sorry! I didn't want to bring any sadness here--it's all so bright and +beautiful! And now I've made you sad!" + +It was a moment before Augusta Maturin could answer her. + +"What are friends for, Janet," she asked, "if not to share sorrow with? +And do you suppose there's any place, however bright, where sorrow has +not come? Do you think I've not known it, too? And Janet, I haven't sat +here all these days with you without guessing that something worries you. +I've been waiting, all this time, for you to tell me, in order that I +might help you." + +"I wanted to," said Janet, "every day I wanted to, but I couldn't. I +couldn't bear to trouble you with it, I didn't mean ever to tell you. +And then--it's so terrible, I don't know what you'll think." + +"I think I know you, Janet," answered Mrs. Maturin. "Nothing human, +nothing natural is terrible, in the sense you mean. At least I'm one of +those who believe so." + +Presently Janet said, "I'm going to have a child." + +Mrs. Maturin sat very still. Something closed in her throat, preventing +her immediate reply. + +"I, too, had a child, my dear," she answered. "I lost her." She felt +the girl's clasp tighten on her fingers. + +"But you--you had a right to it--you were married." Children are sacred +things," said Augusta Maturin. + +"Sacred! Could it be that a woman like Mrs. Maturity thought that this +child which was coming to her was sacred, too? + +"However they come?" asked Janet. "Oh, I tried to believe that, too! At +first--at first I didn't want it, and when I knew it was coming I was +driven almost crazy. And then, all at once, when I was walking in the +rain, I knew I wanted it to have--to keep all to myself. You +understand?" + +Augusta Maturity inclined her head. + +"But the father?" she managed to ask, after a moment. "I don't wish to +pry, my dear, but does he--does he realize? Can't he help you?" + +"It was Mr. Ditmar." + +"Perhaps it will help you to tell me about it, Janet." + +"I'd--I'd like to. I've been so unhappy since you told me he was dead-- +and I felt like a cheat. You see, he promised to marry me, and I know +now that he loved me, that he really wanted to marry me, but something +happened to make me believe he wasn't going to, I saw--another girl who'd +got into trouble, and then I thought he'd only been playing with me, and +I couldn't stand it. I joined the strikers--I just had to do something." + +Augusta Maturity nodded, and waited. + +"I was only a stenographer, and we were very poor, and he was rich and +lived in a big house, the most important man in Hampton. It seemed too +good to be true--I suppose I never really thought it could happen. +Please don't think I'm putting all the blame on him, Mrs. Maturity--it +was my fault just as much as his. I ought to have gone away from +Hampton, but I didn't have the strength. And I shouldn't have--" Janet +stopped. + +"But--you loved him?" + +"Yes, I did. For a long time, after I left him, I thought I didn't, I +thought I hated him, and when I found out what had happened to me--that +night I came to you--I got my father's pistol and went to the mill to +shoot him. I was going to shoot myself, too." + +"Oh!" Mrs. Maturity gasped. She gave a quick glance of sheer amazement +at Janet, who did not seem to notice it; who was speaking objectively, +apparently with no sense of the drama in her announcement. + +"But I couldn't," she went on. "At the time I didn't know why I +couldn't, but when I went out I understood it was because I wanted the +child, because it was his child. And though he was almost out of his +head, he seemed so glad because I'd come back to him, and said he'd marry +me right away." + +"And you refused!" exclaimed Mrs. Maturity. + +"Well, you see, I was out of my head, too, I still thought I hated him-- +but I'd loved him all the time. It was funny! He had lots of faults, +and he didn't seem to understand or care much about how poor people feel, +though he was kind to them in the mills. He might have come to +understand--I don't know--it wasn't because he didn't want to, but +because he was so separated from them, I guess, and he was so interested +in what he was doing. He had ambition, he thought everything of that +mill, he'd made it. I don't know why I loved him, it wasn't because he +was fine, like Mr. Insall, but he was strong and brave, and he needed me +and just took me." + +"One never knows!" Augusta Maturity murmured. + +"I went back that night to tell him I'd marry him--and he'd gone. Then I +came to you, to the soup kitchen. I didn't mean to bother you, I've +never quite understood how I got there. I don't care so much what +happens to me, now that I've told you," Janet added. "It was mean, not +to tell you, but I'd never had anything like this--what you were giving +me--and I wanted all I could get." + +"I'm thankful you did come to us!" Augusta Maturin managed to reply. + +"You mean--?" Janet exclaimed. + +"I mean, that we who have been more--fortunate don't look at these things +quite as we used to, that the world is less censorious, is growing to +understand situations it formerly condemned. And--I don't know what kind +of a monster you supposed me to be, Janet." + +"Oh, Mrs. Maturin!" + +"I mean that I'm a woman, too, my dear, although my life has been +sheltered. Otherwise, what has happened to you might have happened to +me. And besides, I am what is called unconventional, I have little +theories of my own about life, and now that you have told me everything I +understand you and love you even more than I did before." + +Save that her breath came fast, Janet lay still against the cushions of +the armchair. She was striving to grasp the momentous and unlooked-for +fact of her friend's unchanged attitude. Then she asked:-- + +"Mrs. Maturin, do you believe in God?" + +Augusta Maturin was startled by the question. "I like to think of Him as +light, Janet, and that we are plants seeking to grow toward Him--no +matter from what dark crevice we may spring. Even in our mistakes and +sins we are seeking Him, for these are ignorances, and as the world +learns more, we shall know Him better and better. It is natural to long +for happiness, and happiness is self-realization, and self-realization is +knowledge and light." + +"That is beautiful," said Janet at length. + +"It is all we can know about God," said Mrs. Maturin, "but it is enough." +She had been thinking rapidly. "And now," she went on, "we shall have to +consider what is to be done. I don't pretend that the future will be +easy, but it will not be nearly as hard for you as it might have been, +since I am your friend, and I do not intend to desert you. I'm sure you +will not let it crush you. In the first place, you will have something +to go on with--mental resources, I mean, for which you have a natural +craving, books and art and nature, the best thoughts and the best +interpretations. We can give you these. And you will have your child, +and work to do, for I'm sure you're industrious. And of course I'll keep +your secret, my dear." + +"But--how?" Janet exclaimed. + +"I've arranged it all. You'll stay here this spring, you'll come to my +house on Monday, just as we planned, and later on you may go to Mrs. +Case's, if it will make you feel more independent, and do typewriting +until the spring term is over. I've told you about my little camp away +up in Canada, in the heart of the wilderness, where I go in summer. +We'll stay there until the autumn, until your baby comes, and, after +that, I know it won't be difficult to get you a position in the west, +where you can gain your living and have your child. I have a good friend +in California who I'm sure will help you. And even if your secret should +eventually be discovered--which is not probable--you will have earned +respect, and society is not as stern as it used to be. And you will +always have me for a friend. There, that's the bright side of it. Of +course it isn't a bed of roses, but I've lived long enough to observe +that the people who lie on roses don't always have the happiest lives. +Whenever you want help and advice, I shall always be here, and from time +to time I'll be seeing you. Isn't that sensible?" + +"Oh, Mrs. Maturin--if you really want me--still?" + +"I do want you, Janet, even more than I did--before, because you need me +more," Mrs. Maturin replied, with a sincerity that could not fail to +bring conviction.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +As the spring progressed, Janet grew stronger, became well again, and +through the kindness of Dr. Ledyard, the principal, was presently +installed with a typewriter in a little room in an old building belonging +to the Academy in what was called Bramble Street, and not far from the +Common. Here, during the day, she industriously copied manuscripts' or, +from her notebook, letters dictated by various members of the faculty. +And she was pleased when they exclaimed delightedly at the flawless +copies and failed to suspect her of frequent pilgrimages to the +dictionary in the library in order to familiarize herself with the +meaning and manner of spelling various academic words. At first it was +almost bewildering to find herself in some degree thus sharing the +Silliston community life; and an unpremeditated attitude toward these +learned ones, high priests of the muses she had so long ignorantly +worshipped, accounted perhaps for a great deal in their attitude toward +her. Her fervour, repressed yet palpable, was like a flame burning +before their altars--a flattery to which the learned, being human, are +quick to respond. Besides, something of her history was known, and she +was of a type to incite a certain amount of interest amongst these +discerning ones. Often, after she had taken their dictation, or brought +their manuscripts home, they detained her in conversation. In short, +Silliston gave its approval to this particular experiment of Augusta +Maturin. As for Mrs. Maturin herself, her feeling was one of controlled +pride not unmixed with concern, always conscious as she was of the hidden +element of tragedy in the play she had so lovingly staged. Not that she +had any compunction in keeping Janet's secret, even from Insall; but +sometimes as she contemplated it the strings of her heart grew tight. +Silliston was so obviously where Janet belonged, she could not bear the +thought of the girl going out again from this sheltered spot into a +chaotic world of smoke and struggle. + +Janet's own feelings were a medley. It was not, of course, contentment +she knew continually, nor even peace, although there were moments when +these stole over her. There were moments, despite her incredible good +fortune, of apprehension when she shrank from the future, when fear +assailed her; moments of intense sadness at the thought of leaving her +friends, of leaving this enchanted place now that miraculously she had +found it; moments of stimulation, of exaltation, when she forgot. Her +prevailing sense, as she found herself again, was of thankfulness and +gratitude, of determination to take advantage of, to drink in all of this +wonderful experience, lest any precious memory be lost. + +Like a jewel gleaming with many facets, each sunny day was stored and +treasured. As she went from Mrs. Case's boarding-house forth to her +work, the sweet, sharp air of these spring mornings was filled with +delicious smells of new things, of new flowers and new grass and tender, +new leaves of myriad shades, bronze and crimson, fuzzy white, primrose, +and emerald green. And sometimes it seemed as though the pink and white +clouds of the little orchards were wafted into swooning scents. She +loved best the moment when the Common came in view, when through the rows +of elms the lineaments of those old houses rose before her, lineaments +seemingly long familiar, as of old and trusted friends, and yet ever +stirring new harmonies and new visions. Here, in their midst, she +belonged, and here, had the world been otherwise ordained, she might have +lived on in one continuous, shining spring. At the corner of the Common, +foursquare, ample, painted a straw colour trimmed with white, with its +high chimneys and fan-shaped stairway window, its balustraded terrace +porch open to the sky, was the eighteenth century mansion occupied by Dr. +Ledyard. What was the secret of its flavour? And how account for the +sense of harmony inspired by another dwelling, built during the term of +the second Adams, set in a frame of maples and shining white in the +morning sun? Its curved portico was capped by a wrought-iron railing, +its long windows were touched with purple, and its low garret--set like a +deckhouse on the wide roof--suggested hidden secrets of the past. Here a +Motley or a Longfellow might have dwelt, a Bryant penned his +"Thanatopsis." Farther on, chequered by shade, stood the quaint brick +row of professors' houses, with sloping eaves and recessed entrances of +granite--a subject for an old English print.... Along the border of the +Common were interspersed among the ancient dormitories and halls the new +and dignified buildings of plum-coloured brick that still preserved the +soul of Silliston. And to it the soul of Janet responded. + +In the late afternoon, when her tasks were finished, Janet would cross +the Common to Mrs. Maturin's--a dwelling typical of the New England of +the past, with the dimensions of a cottage and something of the dignity +of a mansion. Fluted white pilasters adorned the corners, the windows +were protected by tiny eaves, the roof was guarded by a rail; the +classically porched entrance was approached by a path between high +clipped hedges of hemlock; and through the library, on the right, you +reached the flagged terrace beside a garden, rioting in the carnival +colours of spring. By September it would have changed. For there is +one glory of the hyacinth, of the tulip and narcissus and the jonquil, +and another of the Michaelmas daisy and the aster. + +Insall was often there, and on Saturdays and Sundays he took Mrs. Maturin +and Janet on long walks into the country. There were afternoons when the +world was flooded with silver light, when the fields were lucent in the +sun; and afternoons stained with blue,--the landscape like a tapestry +woven in delicate grins on a ground of indigo. The arbutus, all aglow +and fragrant beneath its leaves, the purple fringed polygala were past, +but they found the pale gold lily of the bellwort, the rust-red bloom of +the ginger. In the open spaces under the sky were clouds of bluets, wild +violets, and white strawberry flowers clustering beside the star moss all +ashimmer with new green. The Canada Mayflower spread a carpet under the +pines; and in the hollows where the mists settled, where the brooks +flowed, where the air was heavy with the damp, ineffable odour of growing +things, they gathered drooping adder's-tongues, white-starred bloodroots +and foam-flowers. From Insall's quick eye nothing seemed to escape. He +would point out to them the humming-bird that hovered, a bright blur, +above the columbine, the woodpecker glued to the trunk of a maple high +above their heads, the red gleam of a tanager flashing through sunlit +foliage, the oriole and vireo where they hid. And his was the ear that +first caught the exquisite, distant note of the hermit. Once he stopped +them, startled, to listen to the cock partridge drumming to its mate.... + +Sometimes, of an evening, when Janet was helping Mrs. Maturin in her +planting or weeding, Insall would join them, rolling up the sleeves of +his flannel shirt and kneeling beside them in the garden paths. Mrs. +Maturin was forever asking his advice, though she did not always follow +it. + +"Now, Brooks," she would say, "you've just got to suggest something to +put in that border to replace the hyacinths. + +I had larkspur last year--you remember--and it looked like a chromo in a +railroad folder." + +"Let me see--did I advise larkspur?" he would ask. + +"Oh, I'm sure you must have--I always do what you tell me. It seems to +me I've thought of every possible flower in the catalogue. You know, +too, only you're so afraid of committing yourself." + +Insall's comic spirit, betrayed by his expressions, by the quizzical +intonations of his voice, never failed to fill Janet with joy, while it +was somehow suggestive, too, of the vast fund of his resource. Mrs. +Maturin was right, he could have solved many of her questions offhand if +he had so wished, but he had his own method of dealing with appeals. His +head tilted on one side, apparently in deep thought over the problem, he +never answered outright, but by some process of suggestion unfathomable +to Janet, and by eliminating, not too deprecatingly, Mrs. Maturin's +impatient proposals, brought her to a point where she blurted out the +solution herself. + +"Oriental poppies! How stupid of me not to think of them!" + +"How stupid of me!" Insall echoed--and Janet, bending over her weeding, +made sure they had been in his mind all the while. + +Augusta Maturin's chief extravagance was books; she could not bear to +await her turn at the library, and if she liked a book she wished to own +it. Subscribing to several reviews, three English and one American, she +scanned them eagerly every week and sent in orders to her Boston +bookseller. As a consequence the carved walnut racks on her library +table were constantly being strained. A good book, she declared, ought +to be read aloud, and discussed even during its perusal. And thus Janet, +after an elementary and decidedly unique introduction to worth-while +literature in the hospital, was suddenly plunged into the vortex of +modern thought. The dictum Insall quoted, that modern culture depended +largely upon what one had not read, was applied to her; a child of the +new environment fallen into skilful hands, she was spared the boredom of +wading through the so-called classics which, though useful as milestones, +as landmarks for future reference, are largely mere reminders of an +absolute universe now vanished. The arrival of a novel, play, or +treatise by one of that small but growing nucleus of twentieth century +seers was an event, and often a volume begun in the afternoon was taken +up again after supper. While Mrs. Maturin sat sewing on the other side +of the lamp, Janet had her turn at reading. From the first she had been +quick to note Mrs. Maturin's inflections, and the relics of a high-school +manner were rapidly eliminated. The essence of latter-day realism and +pragmatism, its courageous determination to tear away a veil of which she +had always been dimly aware, to look the facts of human nature in the +face, refreshed her: an increasing portion of it she understood; and she +was constantly under the spell of the excitement that partially grasps, +that hovers on the verge of inspiring discoveries. This excitement, +whenever Insall chanced to be present, was intensified, as she sat a +silent but often quivering listener to his amusing and pungent comments +on these new ideas. His method of discussion never failed to illuminate +and delight her, and often, when she sat at her typewriter the next day, +she would recall one of his quaint remarks that suddenly threw a bright +light on some matter hitherto obscure.... Occasionally a novel or a play +was the subject of their talk, and then they took a delight in drawing +her out, in appealing to a spontaneous judgment unhampered by +pedagogically implanted preconceptions. Janet would grow hot from +shyness. + +"Say what you think, my dear," Mrs. Maturin would urge her. "And +remember that your own opinion is worth more than Shakespeare's or +Napoleon's!" + +Insall would escort her home to Mrs. Case's boarding house.... + +One afternoon early in June Janet sat in her little room working at her +letters when Brooks Insall came in. "I don't mean to intrude in business +hours, but I wanted to ask if you would do a little copying for me," he +said, and he laid on her desk a parcel bound with characteristic +neatness. + +"Something you've written?" she exclaimed, blushing with pleasure and +surprise. He was actually confiding to her one of his manuscripts! + +"Well--yes," he replied comically, eyeing her. + +"I'll be very careful with it. I'll do it right away." + +"There's no particular hurry," he assured her. "The editor's waited six +months for it--another month or so won't matter." + +"Another month or so!" she ejaculated,--but he was gone. Of course she +couldn't have expected him to remain and talk about it; but this +unexpected exhibition of shyness concerning his work--so admired by the +world's choicer spirits--thrilled yet amused her, and made her glow with +a new understanding. With eager fingers she undid the string and sat +staring at the regular script without taking in, at first, the meaning of +a single sentence. It was a comparatively short sketch entitled "The +Exile," in which shining, winged truths and elusive beauties flitted +continually against a darkbackground of Puritan oppression; the story of +one Basil Grelott, a dreamer of Milton's day, Oxford nurtured, who, +casting off the shackles of dogma and manmade decrees, sailed with his +books to the New England wilderness across the sea. There he lived, +among the savages, in peace and freedom until the arrival of Winthrop and +his devotees, to encounter persecution from those who themselves had fled +from it. The Lord's Brethren, he averred, were worse than the Lord's +Bishops--Blackstone's phrase. Janet, of course, had never heard of +Blackstone, some of whose experiences Insall had evidently used. And the +Puritans dealt with Grelott even as they would have served the author of +"Paradise Lost" himself, especially if he had voiced among them the +opinions set forth in his pamphlet on divorce. A portrait of a stern +divine with his infallible Book gave Janet a vivid conception of the +character of her ancestors; and early Boston, with yellow candlelight +gleaming from the lantern-like windows of the wooden, Elizabethan houses, +was unforgettably etched. There was an inquisition in a freezing barn of +a church, and Basil Grelott banished to perish amid the forest. in his +renewed quest for freedom.... After reading the manuscript, Janet sat +typewriting into the night, taking it home with her and placing it +besides her bed, lest it be lost to posterity. By five the next evening +she had finished the copy. + +A gentle rain had fallen during the day, but had ceased as she made her +way toward Insall's house. The place was familiar now: she had been +there to supper with Mrs. Maturin, a supper cooked and served by Martha +Vesey, an elderly, efficient and appallingly neat widow, whom Insall had +discovered somewhere in his travels and installed as his housekeeper. +Janet paused with her hand on the gate latch to gaze around her, at the +picket fence on which he had been working when she had walked hither the +year before. It was primly painted now, its posts crowned with the +carved pineapples; behind the fence old-fashioned flowers were in bloom, +lupins and false indigo; and the retaining wall of blue-grey slaty stone, +which he had laid that spring, was finished. A wind stirred the maple, +releasing a shower of heavy drops, and she opened the gate and went up +the path and knocked at the door. There was no response--even Martha +must be absent, in the village! Janet was disappointed, she had looked +forward to seeing him, to telling him how great had been her pleasure in +the story he had written, at the same time doubting her courage to do so. +She had never been able to speak to him about his work and what did her +opinion matter to him? As she turned away the stillness was broken by a +humming sound gradually rising to a crescendo, so she ventured slowly +around the house and into the orchard of gnarled apple trees on the slope +until she came insight of a little white building beside the brook. The +weathervane perched on the gable, and veering in the wet breeze, seemed +like a live fish swimming in its own element; and through the open window +she saw Insall bending over a lathe, from which the chips were flying. +She hesitated. Then he looked up, and seeing her, reached above his head +to pull the lever that shut off the power. + +"Come in," he called out, and met her at the doorway. He was dressed in +a white duck shirt, open at the neck, and a pair of faded corduroy +trousers. "I wasn't looking for this honour," he told her, with a +gesture of self-deprecation, "or I'd have put on a dinner coat." + +And, despite her eagerness and excitement, she laughed. + +"I didn't dare to leave this in the house," she explained. Mrs. Vesey +wasn't home. And I thought you might be here." + +"You haven't made the copy already!" + +"Oh, I loved doing it!" she replied, and paused, flushing. She might +have known that it would be simply impossible to talk to him about it! +So she laid it down on the workbench, and, overcome by a sudden shyness, +retreated toward the door. + +"You're not going!" he exclaimed. + +"I must--and you're busy." + +"Not at all," he declared, "not at all, I was just killing time until +supper. Sit down!" And he waved her to a magisterial-looking chair of +Jacobean design, with turned legs, sandpapered and immaculate, that stood +in the middle of the shop. + +"Oh, not in that!" Janet protested. "And besides, I'd spoil it--I'm sure +my skirt is wet." + +But he insisted, thrusting it under her. "You've come along just in +time, I wanted a woman to test it--men are no judges of chairs. There's +a vacuum behind the small of your back, isn't there? Augusta will have +to put a cushion in it." + +"Did you make it for Mrs. Maturin? She will be Pleased!" exclaimed +Janet, as she sat down. "I don't think it's uncomfortable." + +"I copied it from an old one in the Boston Art Museum. Augusta saw it +there, and said she wouldn't be happy until she had one like it. But +don't tell her." + +"Not for anything!" Janet got to her feet again. "I really must be +going." + +"Going where?" + +"I told Mrs. Maturin I'd read that new book to her. I couldn't go +yesterday--I didn't want to go," she added, fearing he might think his +work had kept her. + +"Well, I'll walk over with you. She asked me to make a little design for +a fountain, you know, and I'll have to get some measurements." + +As they emerged from the shop and climbed the slope Janet tried to fight +off the sadness that began to invade her. Soon she would have to be +leaving all this! Her glance lingered wistfully on the old farmhouse +with its great centre chimney from which the smoke was curling, with its +diamond-paned casements Insall had put into the tiny frames. + +"What queer windows!" she said. "But they seem to go with the house, +beautifully." + +"You think so?" His tone surprised her; it had a touch more of +earnestness than she had ever before detected. "They belong to that type +of house the old settlers brought the leaded glass with them. Some +people think they're cold, but I've arranged to make them fairly tight. +You see, I've tried to restore it as it must have been when it was +built." + +"And these?" she asked, pointing to the millstones of different diameters +that made the steps leading down to the garden. + +"Oh, that's an old custom, but they are nice," he agreed. "I'll just put +this precious manuscript inside and get my foot rule," he added, opening +the door, and she stood awaiting him on the threshold, confronted by the +steep little staircase that disappeared into the wall half way up. At +her left was the room where he worked, and which once had been the +farmhouse kitchen. She took a few steps into it, and while he was +searching in the table drawer she halted before the great chimney over +which, against the panel, an old bell-mouthed musket hung. Insall came +over beside her. + +"Those were trees!" he said. "That panel's over four feet across, I +measured it once. I dare say the pine it was cut from grew right where +we are standing, before the land was cleared to build the house." + +"But the gun?" she questioned. "You didn't have it the night we came to +supper." + +"No, I ran across it at a sale in Boston. The old settler must have +owned one like that. I like to think of him, away off here in the +wilderness in those early days." + +She thought of how Insall had made those early days live for her, in his +story of Basil Grelott. But to save her soul, wen with such an opening, +she could not speak of it. + +"He had to work pretty hard, of course," Insall continued, "but I dare +say he had a fairly happy life, no movies, no Sunday supplements, no +automobiles or gypsy moths. His only excitement was to trudge ten miles +to Dorset and listen to a three hour sermon on everlasting fire and +brimstone by a man who was supposed to know. No wonder he slept soundly +and lived to be over ninety!" + +Insall was standing with his head thrown back, his eyes stilt seemingly +fixed on the musket that had suggested his remark--a pose eloquent, she +thought, of the mental and physical balance of the man. She wondered +what belief gave him the free mastery of soul and body he possessed. +Some firm conviction, she was sure, must energise him yet she respected +him the more for concealing it. + +"It's hard to understand such a terrible religion!" she cried. "I don't +see how those old settlers could believe in it, when there are such +beautiful things in the world, if we only open our eyes and look for +them. Oh Mr. Insall, I wish I could tell you how I felt when I read your +story, and when Mrs. Maturin read me those other books of yours " + +She stopped breathlessly, aghast at her boldness--and then, suddenly, a +barrier between them seemed to break down, and for the first time since +she had known him she felt near to him. He could not doubt the sincerity +of her tribute. + +"You like them as much as that, Janet?" he said, looking at her. + +"I can't tell you how much, I can't express myself. And I want to tell +you something else, Mr. Insall, while I have the chance--how just being +with you and Mrs. Maturin has changed me. I can face life now, you have +shown me so much in it I never saw before." + +"While you have the chance?" he repeated. + +"Yes." She strove to go on cheerfully, "Now I've said it, I feel better, +I promise not to mention it again. I knew--you didn't think me +ungrateful. It's funny," she added, "the more people have done for you- +when they've given you everything, life and hope,--the harder it is to +thank them." She turned her face away, lest he might see that her eyes +were wet. "Mrs. Maturin will be expecting us." + +"Not yet," she heard him say, and felt his hand on her arm. "You haven't +thought of what you're doing for me." + +"What I'm doing for you!" she echoed. "What hurts me most, when I think +about it, is that I'll never be able to do anything." + +"Why do you say that?" he asked. + +"If I only could believe that some day I might be able to help you--just +a little--I should be happier. All I have, all I am I owe to you and +Mrs. Maturin." + +"No, Janet," he answered. "What you are is you, and it's more real than +anything we could have put into you. What you have to give is-- +yourself." His fingers trembled on her arm, but she saw him smile a +little before he spoke again. "Augusta Maturin was right when she said +that you were the woman I needed. I didn't realize it then perhaps she +didn't--but now I'm sure of it. Will you come to me?" + +She stood staring at him, as in terror, suddenly penetrated by a dismay +that sapped her strength, and she leaned heavily against the fireplace, +clutching the mantel-shelf. + +"Don't!" she pleaded. "Please don't--I can't." + +"You can't!... Perhaps, after a while, you may come to feel differently +--I didn't mean to startle you," she heard him reply gently. This +humility, in him, was unbearable. + +"Oh, it isn't that--it isn't that! If I could, I'd be willing to serve +you all my life--I wouldn't ask for anything more. I never thought that +this would happen. I oughtn't to have stayed in Silliston." + +"You didn't suspect that I loved you?" + +"How could I? Oh, I might have loved you, if I'd been fortunate--if I'd +deserved it. But I never thought, I always looked up to you--you are so +far above me!" She lifted her face to him in agony. "I'm sorry--I'm +sorry for you--I'll never forgive myself!" + +"It's--some one else?" he asked. + +"I was--going to be married to--to Mr. Ditmar," she said slowly, +despairingly. + +"But even then--" Insall began. + +"You don't understand!" she cried. "What will you think of me?--Mrs. +Maturin was to have told you, after I'd gone. It's--it's the same as if +I were married to him--only worse." + +"Worse!" Insall repeated uncomprehendingly.... And then she was aware +that he had left her side. He was standing by the window. + +A thrush began to sing in the maple. She stole silently toward the door, +and paused to look back at him, once to meet his glance. He had turned. + +"I can't--I can't let you go like this!" she heard him say, but she fled +from him, out of the gate and toward the Common.... + +When Janet appeared, Augusta Maturin was in her garden. With an instant +perception that something was wrong, she went to the girl and led her to +the sofa in the library. There the confession was made. + +"I never guessed it," Janet sobbed. "Oh, Mrs. Maturin, you'll believe +me--won't you?" + +"Of course I believe you, Janet," Augusta Maturity replied, trying to +hide her pity, her own profound concern and perplexity. "I didn't +suspect it either. If I had--" + +"You wouldn't have brought me here, you wouldn't have asked me to stay +with you. But I was to blame, I oughtn't to have stayed, I knew all +along that something would happen--something terrible that I hadn't any +right to stay." + +"Who could have foreseen it!" her friend exclaimed helplessly. "Brooks +isn't like any other man I've ever known--one can never tell what he has +in mind. Not that I'm surprised as I look back upon it all!" + +"I've hurt him!" + +Augusta Maturity was silent awhile. "Remember, my dear," she begged, +"you haven't only yourself to think about, from now on." + +But comfort was out of the question, the task of calming the girl +impossible. Finally the doctor was sent for, and she was put to bed.... + +Augusta Maturity spent an agonized, sleepless night, a prey of many +emotions; of self-reproach, seeing now that she had been wrong in not +telling Brooks Insall of the girl's secret; of sorrow and sympathy for +him; of tenderness toward the girl, despite the suffering she had +brought; of unwonted rebellion against a world that cheated her of this +cherished human tie for which she had longed the first that had come into +her life since her husband and child had gone. And there was her own +responsibility for Insall's unhappiness--when she recalled with a pang +her innocent sayings that Janet was the kind of woman he, an artist, +should marry! And it was true--if he must marry. He himself had seen +it. Did Janet love him? or did she still remember Ditmar? Again and +again, during the summer that followed, this query was on her lips, but +remained unspoken.... + +The next day Insall disappeared. No one knew where he had gone, but his +friends in Silliston believed he had been seized by one of his sudden, +capricious fancies for wandering. For many months his name was not +mentioned between Augusta Maturity and Janet. By the middle of June they +had gone to Canada.... + +In order to reach the camp on Lac du Sablier from the tiny railroad +station at Saint Hubert, a trip of some eight miles up the decharge was +necessary. The day had been when Augusta Maturity had done her share of +paddling and poling, with an habitant guide in the bow. She had foreseen +all the needs of this occasion, warm clothes for Janet, who was wrapped +in blankets and placed on cushions in the middle of a canoe, while she +herself followed in a second, from time to time exclaiming, in a +reassuring voice, that one had nothing to fear in the hands of Delphin +and Herve, whom she had known intimately for more than twenty years. It +was indeed a wonderful, exciting, and at moments seemingly perilous +journey up the forested aisle of the river: at sight of the first roaring +reach of rapids Janet held her breathso incredible did it appear that any +human power could impel and guide a boat up the white stairway between +the boulders! Was it not courting destruction? Yet she felt a strange, +wild delight in the sense of danger, of amazement at the woodsman's eye +that found and followed the crystal paths through the waste of foam.... +There were long, quiet stretches, hemmed in by alders, where the canoes, +dodging the fallen trees, glided through the still water... No such +silent, exhilarating motion Janet had ever known. Even the dipping +paddles made no noise, though sometimes there was a gurgle, as though a +fish had broken the water behind them; sometimes, in the shining pools +ahead, she saw the trout leap out. At every startling flop Delphin would +exclaim: "Un gros!" From an upper branch of a spruce a kingfisher darted +like an arrow into the water, making a splash like a falling stone. +Once, after they had passed through the breach of a beaver dam, Herve +nodded his head toward a mound of twigs by the bank and muttered +something. Augusta Maturin laughed. + +"Cabane de castor, he says--a beaver cabin. And the beavers made the dam +we just passed. Did you notice, Janet, how beautifully clean those logs +had been cut by their sharp teeth?" + +At moments she conversed rapidly with Delphin in the same patois Janet +had heard on the streets of Hampton. How long ago that seemed! + +On two occasions, when the falls were sheer, they had to disembark and +walk along little portages through the green raspberry bushes. The +prints of great hooves in the black silt betrayed where wild animals had +paused to drink. They stopped for lunch on a warm rock beside a singing +waterfall, and at last they turned an elbow in the stream and with +suddenly widened vision beheld the lake's sapphire expanse and the +distant circle of hills. "Les montagnes," Herve called them as he flung +out his pipe, and this Janet could translate for herself. Eastward they +lay lucent in the afternoon light; westward, behind the generous log camp +standing on a natural terrace above the landing, they were in shadow. +Here indeed seemed peace, if remoteness, if nature herself might bestow +it. + +Janet little suspected that special preparations had been made for her +comfort. Early in April, while the wilderness was still in the grip of +winter, Delphin had been summoned from a far-away lumber camp to Saint +Hubert, where several packing-cases and two rolls of lead pipe from +Montreal lay in a shed beside the railroad siding. He had superintended +the transportation of these, on dog sledges, up the frozen decharge, +accompanied on his last trip by a plumber of sorts from Beaupre, thirty +miles down the line; and between them they had improvised a bathroom, and +attached a boiler to the range! Only a week before the arrival of Madame +the spring on the hillside above the camp had been tapped, and the pipe +laid securely underground. Besides this unheard-of luxury for the Lac du +Sablier there were iron beds and mattresses and little wood stoves to go +in the four bedrooms, which were more securely chinked with moss. The +traditions of that camp had been hospitable. In Professor Wishart's day +many guests had come and gone, or pitched their tents nearby; and Augusta +Maturin, until this summer, had rarely been here alone, although she had +no fears of the wilderness, and Delphin brought his daughter Delphine to +do the housework and cooking. The land for miles round about was owned +by a Toronto capitalist who had been a friend of her father, and who +could afford as a hobby the sparing of the forest. By his permission a +few sportsmen came to fish or shoot, and occasionally their campfires +could be seen across the water, starlike glows in the darkness of the +night, at morning and evening little blue threads of smoke that rose +against the forest; "bocane," Delphin called it, and Janet found a sweet, +strange magic in these words of the pioneer. + +The lake was a large one, shaped like an hourglass, as its name implied, +and Augusta Maturin sometimes paddled Janet through the wide, shallow +channel to the northern end, even as she had once paddled Gifford. Her +genius was for the helpless. One day, when the waters were high, and the +portages could be dispensed with, they made an excursion through the +Riviere des Peres to the lake of that name, the next in the chain above. +For luncheon they ate the trout Augusta caught; and in the afternoon, +when they returned to the mouth of the outlet, Herve, softly checking the +canoe with his paddle, whispered the word "Arignal!" Thigh deep in the +lush grasses of the swamp was an animal with a huge grey head, like a +donkey's, staring foolishly in their direction--a cow moose. With a +tremendous commotion that awoke echoes in the forest she tore herself +from the mud and disappeared, followed by her panic-stricken offspring, a +caricature of herself.... + +By September the purple fireweed that springs up beside old camps, and in +the bois brute, had bloomed and scattered its myriad, impalpable +thistledowns over crystal floors. Autumn came to the Laurentians. In +the morning the lake lay like a quicksilver pool under the rising mists, +through which the sun struck blinding flashes of light. A little later, +when the veil had lifted, it became a mirror for the hills and crags, the +blue reaches of the sky. The stinging air was spiced with balsam. +Revealed was the incredible brilliance of another day,--the arsenic-green +of the spruce, the red and gold of the maples, the yellow of the alders +bathing in the shallows, of the birches, whose white limbs could be seen +gleaming in the twilight of the thickets. Early, too early, the sun fell +down behind the serrated forest-edge of the western hill, a ball of +orange fire.... One evening Delphin and Herve, followed by two other +canoes, paddled up to the landing. New visitors had arrived, Dr. McLeod, +who had long been an intimate of the Wishart family, and with him a +buxom, fresh-complexioned Canadian woman, a trained nurse whom he had +brought from Toronto. + +There, in nature's wilderness, Janet knew the supreme experience of +women, the agony, the renewal and joy symbolic of nature herself. When +the child was bathed and dressed in the clothes Augusta Maturin herself +had made for it, she brought it into the room to the mother. + +"It's a daughter," she announced. + +Janet regarded the child wistfully. "I hoped it would be a boy," she +said. "He would have had--a better chance." But she raised her arms, +and the child was laid in the bed beside her. + +"We'll see that she has a chance, my dear," Augusta Maturin replied, as +she kissed her. + +Ten days went by, Dr. McLeod lingered at Lac du Sablier, and Janet was +still in bed. Even in this life-giving air she did not seem to grow +stronger. Sometimes, when the child was sleeping in its basket on the +sunny porch, Mrs. Maturin read to her; but often when she was supposed to +rest, she lay gazing out of the open window into silver space listening +to the mocking laughter of the loons, watching the ducks flying across +the sky; or, as evening drew on, marking in the waters a steely angle +that grew and grew--the wake of a beaver swimming homeward in the +twilight. In the cold nights the timbers cracked to the frost, she heard +the owls calling to one another from the fastnesses of the forest, and +thought of life's inscrutable mystery. Then the child would be brought +to her. It was a strange, unimagined happiness she knew when she felt it +clutching at her breasts, at her heart, a happiness not unmixed with +yearning, with sadness as she pressed it to her. Why could it not remain +there always, to comfort her, to be nearer her than any living thing? +Reluctantly she gave it back to the nurse, wistfully her eyes followed +it.... + +Twice a week, now, Delphin and Herve made the journey to Saint Hubert, +and one evening, after Janet had watched them paddling across the little +bay that separated the camp from the outlet's mouth, Mrs. Maturin +appeared, with an envelope in her hand. + +"I've got a letter from Brooks Insall, Janet," she said, with a well- +disguised effort to speak naturally. "It's not the first one he's sent +me, but I haven't mentioned the others. He's in Silliston--and I wrote +him about the daughter." + +"Yes," said Janet. + +"Well--he wants to come up here, to see you, before we go away. He asks +me to telegraph your permission." + +"Oh no, he mustn't, Mrs. Maturin!" + +"You don't care to see him?" + +"It isn't that. I'd like to see him if things had been different. But +now that I've disappointed him--hurt him, I couldn't stand it. I know +it's only his kindness." + +After a moment Augusta Maturin handed Janet a sealed envelope she held in +her hand. + +"He asked me to give you this," she said, and left the room. Janet read +it, and let it fall on the bedspread, where it was still lying when her +friend returned and began tidying the room. From the direction of the +guide's cabin, on the point, came the sounds of talk and laughter, broken +by snatches of habitant songs. Augusta Maturin smiled. She pretended +not to notice the tears in Janet's eyes, and strove to keep back her own. + +"Delphin and Herve saw a moose in the decharge," she explained. "Of +course it was a big one, it always is! They're telling the doctor about +it." + +"Mrs. Maturin," said Janet, "I'd like to talk to you. I think I ought to +tell you what Mr. Insall says." + +"Yes, my dear," her friend replied, a little faintly, sitting down on the +bed. + +"He asks me to believe what--I've done makes no difference to him. Of +course he doesn't put it in so many words, but he says he doesn't care +anything about conventions," Janet continued slowly. "What I told him +when he asked me to marry him in Silliston was a shock to him, it was so- +-so unexpected. He went away, to Maine, but as soon as he began to think +it all over he wanted to come and tell me that he loved me in spite of +it, but he felt he couldn't, under the circumstances, that he had to wait +until--now. Although I didn't give him any explanation, he wants me to +know that he trusts me, he understands--it's because, he says, I am what +I am. He still wishes to marry me, to take care of me and the child. We +could live in California, at first--he's always been anxious to go there, +he says." + +"Well, my dear?" Augusta Maturin forced herself to say at last. + +"It's so generous--so like him!" Janet exclaimed. "But of course I +couldn't accept such a sacrifice, even if--" She paused. "Oh, it's made +me so sad all summer to think that he's unhappy because of me!" + +"I know, Janet, but you should realize, as I told you in Silliston, that +it isn't by any deliberate act of your own, it's just one of those things +that occur in this world and that can't be foreseen or avoided." Augusta +Maturin spoke with an effort. In spite of Janet's apparent calm, she had +never been more acutely aware of the girl's inner suffering. + +"I know," said Janet. "But it's terrible to think that those things we +unintentionally do, perhaps because of faults we have previously +committed, should have the same effect as acts that are intentional." + +"The world is very stupid. All suffering, I think, is brought about by +stupidity. If we only could learn to look at ourselves as we are! It's +a stupid, unenlightened society that metes out most of our punishments +and usually demands a senseless expiation." Augusta Maturin waited, and +presently Janet spoke again. + +"I've been thinking all summer, Mrs. Maturin. There was so much I wanted +to talk about with you, but I wanted to be sure of myself first. And +now, since the baby came, and I know I'm not going to get well, I seem to +see things much more clearly." + +"Why do you say you're not going to get well, Janet? In this air, and +with the child to live for!" + +"I know it. Dr. McLeod knows it, or he wouldn't be staying here, and +you've both been too kind to tell me. You've been so kind, Mrs. Maturin-- +I can't talk about it. But I'm sure I'm going to die, I've really known +it ever since we left Silliston. Something's gone out of me, the thing +that drove me, that made me want to live--I can't express what I mean any +other way. Perhaps it's this child, the new life--perhaps I've just been +broken, I don't know. You did your best to mend me, and that's one thing +that makes me sad. And the thought of Mr. Insall's another. In some +ways it would have been worse to live--I couldn't have ruined his life. +And even if things had been different, I hadn't come to love him, in that +way--it's queer, because he's such a wonderful person. I'd like to live +for the child, if only I had the strength, the will left in me--but +that's gone. And maybe I could save her from--what I've been through." + +Augusta Maturin took Janet's hand in hers. + +"Janet," she said, "I've been a lonely woman, as you know, with nothing +to look forward to. I've always wanted a child since my little Edith +went. I wanted you, my dear, I want your child, your daughter--as I want +nothing else in the world. I will take her, I will try to bring her up +in the light, and Brooks Insall will help me...." + + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of The Dwelling Place of Light, V3 +by Winston Churchill + diff --git a/old/wc04v10.zip b/old/wc04v10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad3783b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wc04v10.zip diff --git a/old/wc04v11.txt b/old/wc04v11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..47d4b76 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wc04v11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5531 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Dwelling Place of Light, V3, by Churchill +#4 in our series by this Winston Churchill + +This author is a cousin of Sir Winston Churchill the Prime Minister + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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Another night has passed, and we are called upon to +imagine the watery sunlight of a mild winter afternoon filtering through +bare trees on the heads of a multitude. A large portion of Hampton +Common is black with the people of sixteen nationalities who have +gathered there, trampling down the snow, to listen wistfully and eagerly +to a new doctrine of salvation. In the centre of this throng on the +bandstand--reminiscent of concerts on sultry, summer nights--are the +itinerant apostles of the cult called Syndicalism, exhorting by turns in +divers tongues. Antonelli had spoken, and many others, when Janet, +impelled by a craving not to be denied, had managed to push her way +little by little from the outskirts of the crowd until now she stood +almost beneath the orator who poured forth passionate words in a language +she recognized as Italian. Her curiosity was aroused, she was unable to +classify this tall man whose long and narrow face was accentuated by a +pointed brown beard, whose lips gleamed red as he spoke, whose slim hands +were eloquent. The artist as propagandist--the unsuccessful artist with +more facility than will. The nose was classic, and wanted strength; the +restless eyes that at times seemed fixed on her were smouldering windows +of a burning house: the fire that stirred her was also consuming him. +Though he could have been little more than five and thirty, his hair was +thinned and greying at the temples. And somehow emblematic of this +physiognomy and physique, summing it up and expressing it in terms of +apparel, were the soft collar and black scarf tied in a flowing bow. +Janet longed to know what he was saying. His phrases, like music, played +on her emotions, and at last, when his voice rose in crescendo at the +climax of his speech, she felt like weeping. + +"Un poeta!" a woman beside her exclaimed. + +"Who is he?" Janet asked. + +"Rolfe," said the woman. + +"But he's an Italian?" + +The woman shrugged her shoulders. "It is his name that is all I know." +He had begun to speak again, and now in English, with an enunciation, a +distinctive manner of turning his phrases new to such gatherings in +America, where labour intellectuals are little known; surprising to +Janet, diverting her attention, at first, from the meaning of his words. +"Labour," she heard, "labour is the creator of all wealth, and wealth +belongs to the creator. The wage system must be abolished. You, the +creators, must do battle against these self-imposed masters until you +shall come into your own. You who toil miserably for nine hours and +produce, let us say, nine dollars of wealth--do you receive it? No, what +is given you is barely enough to keep the slave and the slave's family +alive! The master, the capitalist, seizes the rightful reward of your +labour and spends it on luxuries, on automobiles and fine houses and +women, on food he can't eat, while you are hungry. Yes, you are slaves," +he cried, "because you submit like slaves." + +He waited, motionless and scornful, for the noise to die down. "Since I +have come here to Hampton, I have heard some speak of the state, others +of the unions. Yet the state is your enemy, it will not help you to gain +your freedom. The legislature has shortened your hours,--but why? +Because the politicians are afraid of you, and because they think you +will be content with a little. And now that the masters have cut your +wages, the state sends its soldiers to crush you. Only fifty cents, they +say--only fifty cents most of you miss from your envelopes. What is +fifty cents to them? But I who speak to you have been hungry, I know +that fifty cents will buy ten loaves of bread, or three pounds of the +neck of pork, or six quarts of milk for the babies. Fifty cents will +help pay the rent of the rat-holes where you live." Once more he was +interrupted by angry shouts of approval. "And the labour unions, have +they aided you? Why not? I will tell you why--because they are the +servile instruments of the masters. The unions say that capital has +rights, bargain with it, but for us there can be only one bargain, +complete surrender of the tools to the workers. For the capitalists are +parasites who suck your blood and your children's blood. From now on +there can be no compromise, no truce, no peace until they are +exterminated. It is war." War! In Janet's soul the word resounded like +a tocsin. And again, as when swept along East Street with the mob, that +sense of identity with these people and their wrongs, of submergence with +them in their cause possessed her. Despite her ancestry, her lot was +cast with them. She, too, had been precariously close to poverty, had +known the sordidness of life; she, too, and Lise and Hannah had been +duped and cheated of the fairer things. Eagerly she had drunk in the +vocabulary of that new and terrible philosophy. The master class must be +exterminated! Was it not true, if she had been of that class, that +Ditmar would not have dared to use and deceive her? Why had she never +thought of these things before?... The light was beginning to fade, the +great meeting was breaking up, and yet she lingered. At the foot of the +bandstand steps, conversing with a small group of operatives that +surrounded him, she perceived the man who had just spoken. And as she +stood hesitating, gazing at him, a desire to hear more, to hear all of +this creed he preached, that fed the fires in her soul, urged her +forward. Her need, had she known it, was even greater than that of these +toilers whom she now called comrades. Despite some qualifying reserve +she felt, and which had had to do with the redness of his lips, he +attracted her. He had a mind, an intellect, he must possess stores of +the knowledge for which she thirsted; he appeared to her as one who had +studied and travelled, who had ascended heights and gained the wider view +denied her. A cynical cosmopolitanism would have left her cold, but +here, apparently, was a cultivated man burning with a sense of the +world's wrongs. Ditmar, who was to have led her out of captivity, had +only thrust her the deeper into bondage.... She joined the group, +halting on the edge of it, listening. Rolfe was arguing with a man about +the labour unions, but almost at once she knew she had fixed his +attention. From time to time, as he talked, his eyes sought hers boldly, +and in their dark pupils were tiny points of light that stirred and +confused her, made her wonder what was behind them, in his soul. When he +had finished his argument, he singled her out. + +"You do not work in the mills?" he asked. + +"No, I'm a stenographer--or I was one." + +"And now?" + +"I've given up my place." + +"You want to join us?" + +"I was interested in what you said. I never heard anything like it +before." + +He looked at her intently. + +"Come, let us walk a little way," he said. And she went along by his +side, through the Common, feeling a neophyte's excitement in the +freemasonry, the contempt for petty conventions of this newly achieved +doctrine of brotherhood. "I will give you things to read, you shall be +one of us." + +"I'm afraid I shouldn't understand them," Janet replied. "I've read so +little." + +"Oh, you will understand," he assured her, easily. "There is too much +learning, too much reason and intelligence in the world, too little +impulse and feeling, intuition. Where do reason and intelligence lead +us? To selfishness, to thirst for power-straight into the master class. +They separate us from the mass of humanity. No, our fight is against +those who claim more enlightenment than their fellowmen, who control the +public schools and impose reason on our children, because reason leads to +submission, makes us content with our station in life. The true +syndicalist is an artist, a revolutionist!" he cried. + +Janet found this bewildering and yet through it seemed to shine for her a +gleam of light. Her excitement grew. Never before had she been in the +presence of one who talked like this, with such assurance and ease. And +the fact that he despised knowledge, yet possessed it, lent him glamour. + +"But you have studied!" she exclaimed. + +"Oh yes, I have studied," he replied, with a touch of weariness, "only to +learn that life is simple, after all, and that what is needed for the +social order is simple. We have only to take what belongs to us, we who +work, to follow our feelings, our inclinations." + +"You would take possession of the mills?" she asked. + +"Yes," he said quickly, "of all wealth, and of the government. There +would be no government--we should not need it. A little courage is all +that is necessary, and we come into our own. You are a stenographer, you +say. But you--you are not content, I can see it in your face, in your +eyes. You have cause to hate them, too, these masters, or you would not +have been herein this place, to-day. Is it not so?" + +She shivered, but was silent. + +"Is it not so?" he repeated. "They have wronged you, too, perhaps,--they +have wronged us all, but some are too stupid, too cowardly to fight and +crush them. Christians and slaves submit. The old religion teaches that +the world is cruel for most of us, but if we are obedient and humble we +shall be rewarded in heaven." Rolfe laughed. "The masters approve of +that teaching. They would not have it changed. But for us it is war. +We'll strike and keep on striking, we'll break their machinery, spoil +their mills and factories, and drive them out. And even if we do not win +at once, it is better to suffer and die fighting than to have the life +ground out of us--is it not?" + +"Yes, it is better!" she agreed. The passion in her voice did not escape +him. + +"Some day, perhaps sooner than we think, we shall have the true +Armageddon, the general strike, when the last sleeping toiler shall have +aroused himself from his lethargy to rise up and come into his +inheritance." He seemed to detach himself from her, his eyes became more +luminous. + +"`Like unseen music in the night,'--so Sorel writes about it. They may +scoff at it, the wise ones, but it will come. `Like music in the night!' +You respond to that!" + +Again she was silent. They had walked on, through familiar streets that +now seemed strange. + +"You respond--I can tell," he said. "And yet, you are not like these +others, like me, even. You are an American. And yet you are not like +most of your countrywomen." + +"Why do you say that?" + +"I will tell you. Because they are cold, most of them, and trivial, they +do not feel. But you--you can feel, you can love and hate. You look +calm and cold, but you are not--I knew it when I looked at you, when you +came up to me." + +She did not know whether to resent or welcome his clairvoyance, his +assumption of intimacy, his air of appropriation. But her curiosity was +tingling. + +"And you?" she asked. "Your name is Rolfe, isn't it?" + +He assented. "And yours?" + +She told him. + +"You have been in America long--your family?" + +"Very long," she said. "But you speak Italian, and Rolfe isn't an +Italian name." + +"My father was an Englishman, an artist, who lived in Italy--my mother a +peasant woman from Lombardy, such as these who come to work in the mills. +When she was young she was beautiful--like a Madonna by an old master." + +"An old master?" + +"The old masters are the great painters who lived in Italy four hundred +years ago. I was named after one of them--the greatest. I am called +Leonard. He was Leonardo da Vinci." + +The name, as Rolfe pronounced it, stirred her. And art, painting! It +was a realm unknown to her, and yet the very suggestion of it evoked +yearnings. And she recalled a picture in the window of Hartmann's book- +store, a coloured print before which she used to stop on her way to and +from the office, the copy of a landscape by a California artist. The +steep hillside in the foreground was spread with the misty green of olive +trees, and beyond--far beyond--a snow-covered peak, like some high altar, +flamed red in the sunset. She had not been able to express her feeling +for this picture, it had filled her with joy and sadness. Once she had +ventured to enter and ask its price--ten dollars. And then came a +morning when she had looked for it, and it was gone. + +"And your father--did he paint beautiful pictures, too?" + +"Ah, he was too much of a socialist. He was always away whey I was a +child, and after my mother's death he used to take me with him. When I +was seventeen we went to Milan to take part in the great strike, and +there I saw the soldiers shooting down the workers by the hundreds, +putting them in prison by the thousands. Then I went to live in England, +among the socialists there, and I learned the printer's trade. When I +first came to this country I was on a labour paper in New York, I set up +type, I wrote articles, and once in a while I addressed meetings on the +East Side. But even before I left London I had read a book on +Syndicalism by one of the great Frenchmen, and after a while I began to +realize that the proletariat would never get anywhere through socialism." + +"The proletariat?" The word was new to Janet's ear. + +"The great mass of the workers, the oppressed, the people you saw here +to-day. Socialism is not for them. Socialism--political socialism-- +betrays them into the hands of the master class. Direct action is the +thing, the general strike, war,--the new creed, the new religion that +will bring salvation. I joined the Industrial Workers of the World that +is the American organization of Syndicalism. I went west, to Colorado +and California and Oregon, I preached to the workers wherever there was +an uprising, I met the leaders, Ritter and Borkum and Antonelli and +Jastro and Nellie Bond, I was useful to them, I understand Syndicalism as +they do not. And now we are here, to sow the seed in the East. Come," +he said, slipping his arm through hers, "I will take you to Headquarters, +I will enlist you, you shall be my recruit. I will give you the cause, +the religion you need." + +She longed to go, and yet she drew back, puzzled. The man fired and +fascinated her, but there were reservations, apprehensions concerning +him, felt rather than reasoned. Because of her state of rebellion, of +her intense desire to satisfy in action the emotion aroused by a sense of +wrong, his creed had made a violent appeal, but in his voice, in his +eyes, in his manner she had been quick to detect a personal, sexual note +that disturbed and alarmed her, that implied in him a lack of unity. + +"I can't, to-night," she said. "I must go home--my mother is all alone. +But I want to help, I want to do something." + +They were standing on a corner, under a street lamp. And she averted her +eyes from his glance. + +"Then come to-morrow," he said eagerly. "You know where Headquarters is, +in the Franco-Belgian Hall?" + +"What could I do?" she asked. + +"You? You could help in many ways--among the women. Do you know what +picketing is?" + +"You mean keeping the operatives out of the mills?" + +"Yes, in the morning, when they go to work. And out of the Chippering +Mill, especially. Ditmar, the agent of that mill, is the ablest of the +lot, I'm told. He's the man we want to cripple." + +"Cripple!" exclaimed Janet. + +"Oh, I don't mean to harm him personally." Rolfe did not seem to notice +her tone. "But he intends to crush the strike, and I understand he's +importing scabs here to finish out an order--a big order. If it weren't +for him, we'd have an easier fight; he stiffens up the others. There's +always one man like that, in every place. And what we want to do is to +make him shut down, especially." + +"I see," said Janet. + +"You'll come to Headquarters?" Rolfe repeated. + +"Yes, I'll come, to-morrow," she promised. + +After she had left him she walked rapidly through several streets, not +heeding her direction--such was the driving power of the new ideas he had +given her. Certain words and phrases he had spoken rang in her head, and +like martial music kept pace with her steps. She strove to remember all +that he had said, to grasp its purport; and because it seemed recondite, +cosmic, it appealed to her and excited her the more. And he, the man +himself, had exerted a kind of hypnotic force that partially had +paralyzed her faculties and aroused her fears while still in his +presence: her first feeling in escaping had been one of relief--and then +she began to regret not having gone to Headquarters. Hadn't she been +foolish? In the retrospect, the elements in him that had disturbed her +were less disquieting, his intellectual fascination was enhanced: and in +that very emancipation from cant and convention, characteristic of the +Order to which he belonged, had lain much of his charm. She had +attracted him as a woman, there was no denying that. He, who had studied +and travelled and known life in many lands, had discerned in her, Janet +Bumpus, some quality to make him desire her, acknowledge her as a +comrade! Tremblingly she exulted in the possession of that quality-- +whatever it might be. Ditmar, too, had perceived it! He had not known +how to value it. With this thought came a flaming suggestion--Ditmar +should see her with this man Rolfe, she would make him scorch with the +fires of jealousy. Ditmar should know that she had joined his enemies, +the Industrial Workers of the World. Of the world! Her shackles had +been cast off at last!... And then, suddenly, she felt tired. The +prospect of returning to Fillmore Street, to the silent flat--made the +more silent by her mother's tragic presence--overwhelmed her. The ache +in her heart began to throb again. How could she wait until the dawn of +another day?... + +In the black hours of the morning, with the siren dinning in her ears a +hoarse call to war, Janet leaped from her bed and began to dress. There +is a degree of cold so sharp that it seems actually to smell, and as she +stole down the stairs and out of the door she shivered, assailed by a +sense of loneliness and fear. Yet an insistent voice urged her on, +whispering that to remain at home, inactive, was to go mad; salvation and +relief lay in plunging into the struggle, in contributing her share +toward retribution and victory. Victory! In Faber Street the light of +the electric arcs tinged the snow with blue, and the flamboyant +advertisements of breakfast foods, cigarettes and ales seemed but the +mockery of an activity now unrealizable. The groups and figures +scattered here and there farther down the street served only to +exaggerate its wide emptiness. What could these do, what could she +accomplish against the mighty power of the mills? Gradually, as she +stood gazing, she became aware of a beating of feet upon the snow; over +her shoulder she caught the gleam of steel. A squad of soldiers muffled +in heavy capes and woolen caps was marching along the car-tracks. She +followed them. At the corner of West Street, in obedience to a sharp +command she saw them halt, turn, and advance toward a small crowd +gathered there. It scattered, only to collect again when the soldiers +had passed on. Janet joined them. She heard men cursing the soldiers. +The women stood a little aside; some were stamping to keep warm, and one, +with a bundle in her arms which Janet presently perceived to be a child, +sank down on a stone step and remained there, crouching, resigned. + +"We gotta right to stay here, in the street. We gotta right to live, I +guess." The girl's teeth were chattering, but she spoke with such +vehemence and spirit as to attract Janet's attention. "You worked in the +Chippering, like me--yes?" she asked. + +Janet nodded. The faded, lemon-coloured shawl the girl had wrapped about +her head emphasized the dark beauty of her oval face. She smiled, and +her white teeth were fairly dazzling. Impulsively she thrust her arm +through Janet's. + +"You American--you comrade, you come to help?" she asked. + +"I've never done any picketing." + +"I showa you." + +The dawn had begun to break, revealing little by little the outlines of +cruel, ugly buildings, the great mill looming darkly at the end of the +street, and Janet found it scarcely believable that only a little while +ago she had hurried thither in the mornings with anticipation and joy in +her heart, eager to see Ditmar, to be near him! The sight of two +policemen hurrying toward them from the direction of the canal aroused +her. With sullen murmurs the group started to disperse, but the woman +with the baby, numb with cold, was slow in rising, and one of the +policemen thrust out his club threateningly. + +"Move on, you can't sit here," he said. + +With a lithe movement like the spring of a cat the Italian girl flung +herself between them--a remarkable exhibition of spontaneous +inflammability; her eyes glittered like the points of daggers, and, as +though they had been dagger points, the policeman recoiled a little. The +act, which was absolutely natural, superb, electrified Janet, restored in +an instant her own fierceness of spirit. The girl said something +swiftly, in Italian, and helped the woman to rise, paying no more +attention to the policeman. Janet walked on, but she had not covered +half the block before she was overtaken by the girl; her anger had come +and gone in a flash, her vivacity had returned, her vitality again found +expression in an abundant good nature and good will. She asked Janet's +name, volunteering the information that her own was Gemma, that she was a +"fine speeder" in the Chippering Mill, where she had received nearly +seven dollars a week. She had been among the first to walk out. + +"Why did you walk out?" asked Janet curiously. + +"Why? I get mad when I know that my wages is cut. I want the money--I +get married." + +"Is that why you are striking?" asked Janet curiously. + +"That is why--of course." + +"Then you haven't heard any of the speakers? They say it is for a cause- +-the workers are striking for freedom, some day they will own the mills. +I heard a man named Rolfe yesterday--" + +The girl gave her a radiant smile. + +"Rolfe! It is beautiful, what Rolfe said. You think so? I think so. I +am for the cause, I hate the capitalist. We will win, and get more +money, until we have all the money. We will be rich. And you, why do +you strike?" + +"I was mad, too," Janet replied simply. + +"Revenge!" exclaimed the girl, glittering again. "I understan'. Here +come the scabs! Now I show you." + +The light had grown, but the stores were still closed and barred. Along +Faber Street, singly or in little groups, anxiously glancing around them, +behind them, came the workers who still clung desperately to their jobs. +Gemma fairly darted at two girls who sought the edge of the sidewalk, +seizing them by the sleeves, and with piteous expressions they listened +while she poured forth on them a stream of Italian. After a moment one +tore herself away, but the other remained and began to ask questions. +Presently she turned and walked slowly away in the direction from which +she had come. + +"I get her," exclaimed Gemma, triumphantly. + +"What did you say?" asked Janet. + +"Listen--that she take the bread from our mouths, she is traditore--scab. +We strike for them, too, is it not so?" + +"It is no use for them to work for wages that starve. We win the strike, +we get good wages for all. Here comes another--she is a Jewess--you try, +you spik." + +Janet failed with the Jewess, who obstinately refused to listen or reply +as the two walked along with her, one on either side. Near West Street +they spied a policeman, and desisted. Up and down Faber Street, +everywhere, the game went on: but the police were watchful, and once a +detachment of militia passed. The picketing had to be done quickly, in +the few minutes that were to elapse before the gates should close. +Janet's blood ran faster, she grew excited, absorbed, bolder as she +perceived the apologetic attitude of the "scabs" and she began to despise +them with Gemma's heartiness; and soon she had lost all sense of surprise +at finding herself arguing, pleading, appealing to several women in turn, +fluently, in the language of the industrial revolution. Some--because +she was an American--examined her with furtive curiosity; others +pretended not to understand, accelerating their pace. She gained no +converts that morning, but one girl, pale, anemic with high cheek bones +evidently a Slav--listened to her intently. + +"I gotta right to work," she said. + +"Not if others will starve because you work," objected Janet. + +"If I don't work I starve," said the girl. + +"No, the Committee will take care of you--there will be food for all. +How much do you get now?" + +"Four dollar and a half." + +"You starve now," Janet declared contemptuously. "The quicker you join +us, the sooner you'll get a living wage." + +The girl was not quite convinced. She stood for a while undecided, and +then ran abruptly off in the direction of West Street. Janet sought for +others, but they had ceased coming; only the scattered, prowling +picketers remained. + +Over the black rim of the Clarendon Mill to the eastward the sky had +caught fire. The sun had risen, the bells were ringing riotously, +resonantly in the clear, cold air. Another working day had begun. + +Janet, benumbed with cold, yet agitated and trembling because of her +unwonted experience of the morning, made her way back to Fillmore Street. +She was prepared to answer any questions her mother might ask; as they +ate their dismal breakfast, and Hannah asked no questions, she longed to +blurt out where she had been, to announce that she had cast her lot with +the strikers, the foreigners, to defend them and declare that these were +not to blame for the misfortunes of the family, but men like Ditmar and +the owners of the mills, the capitalists. Her mother, she reflected +bitterly, had never once betrayed any concern as to her shattered +happiness. But gradually, as from time to time she glanced covertly at +Hannah's face, her resentment gave way to apprehension. Hannah did not +seem now even to be aware of her presence; this persistent apathy filled +her with a dread she did not dare to acknowledge. + +"Mother!" she cried at last. + +Hannah started. "Have you finished?" she asked. + +"Yes." + +"You've b'en out in the cold, and you haven't eaten much." Janet fought +back her tears. "Oh yes, I have," she managed to reply, convinced of the +futility of speech, of all attempts to arouse her mother to a realization +of the situation. Perhaps--though her heart contracted at the thought +perhaps it was a merciful thing! But to live, day after day, in the +presence of that comfortless apathy!... Later in the morning she went +out, to walk the streets, and again in the afternoon; and twice she +turned her face eastward, in the direction of the Franco-Belgian Hall. +Her courage failed her. How would these foreigners and the strange +leaders who had come to organize them receive her, Ditmar's stenographer? +She would have to tell them she was Ditmar's stenographer; they would +find it out. And now she was filled with doubts about Rolfe. Had he +really thought she could be of use to them! Around the Common, in front +of the City Hall men went about their affairs alertly, or stopped one +another to talk about the strike. In Faber Street, indeed, an air of +suppressed excitement prevailed, newsboys were shouting out extras; but +business went on as though nothing had happened to disturb it. There +was, however, the spectacle, unusual at this time of day, of operatives +mingling with the crowd, while policemen stood watchfully at the corners; +a company of soldiers marched by, drawing the people in silence to the +curb. Janet scanned the faces of these idle operatives; they seemed for +the most part either calm or sullen, wanting the fire and passion of the +enthusiasts who had come out to picket in the early hours of the day; she +sought vainly for the Italian girl with whom she had made friends. +Despondency grew in her, a sense of isolation, of lacking any one, now, +to whom she might turn, and these feelings were intensified by the air of +confidence prevailing here. The strike was crushed, injustice and wrong +had triumphed--would always triumph. In front of the Banner office she +heard a man say to an acquaintance who had evidently just arrived in +town:-- + +"The Chippering? Sure, that's running. By to-morrow Ditmar'll have a +full force there. Now that the militia has come, I guess we've got this +thing scotched..." + +Just how and when that order and confidence of Faber Street began to be +permeated by disquietude and alarm, Janet could not have said. Something +was happening, somewhere--or about to happen. An obscure, apparently +telepathic process was at work. People began to hurry westward, a few +had abandoned the sidewalk and were running; while other pedestrians, +more timid, were equally concerned to turn and hasten in the opposite +direction. At the corner of West Street was gathering a crowd that each +moment grew larger and larger, despite the efforts of the police to +disperse it. These were strikers, angry strikers. They blocked the +traffic, halted the clanging trolleys, surged into the mouth of West +Street, booing and cursing at the soldiers whose threatening line of +bayonets stretched across that thoroughfare half-way down toward the +canal, guarding the detested Chippering Mill. Bordering West Street, +behind the company's lodging-houses on the canal, were certain low +buildings, warehouses, and on their roofs tense figures could be seen +standing out against the sky. The vanguard of the mob, thrust on by +increasing pressure from behind, tumbled backward the thin cordon of +police, drew nearer and nearer the bayonets, while the soldiers grimly +held their ground. A voice was heard on the roof, a woman in the front +rank of the mob gave a warning shriek, and two swift streams of icy water +burst forth from the warehouse parapet, tearing the snow from the +cobbles, flying in heavy, stinging spray as it advanced and mowed the +strikers down and drove them like flies toward Faber Street. Screams of +fright, curses of defiance and hate mingled with the hissing of the water +and the noise of its impact with the ground--like the tearing of heavy +sail-cloth. Then, from somewhere near the edge of the mob, came a +single, sharp detonation, quickly followed by another--below the watchmen +on the roof a window crashed. The nozzles on the roof were raised, their +streams, sweeping around in a great semi-circle, bowled down the rioters +below the tell-tale wisps of smoke, and no sooner had the avalanche of +water passed than the policemen who, forewarned, had sought refuge along +the walls, rushed forward and seized a man who lay gasping on the snow. +Dazed, half drowned, he had dropped his pistol. They handeuffed him and +dragged him away through the ranks of the soldiers, which opened for him +to pass. The mob, including those who had been flung down, bruised and +drenched, and who had painfully got to their feet again, had backed +beyond the reach of the water, and for a while held that ground, until +above its hoarse, defiant curses was heard, from behind, the throbbing of +drums. + +"Cossacks! More Cossacks!" + +The cry was taken up by Canadians, Italians, Belgians, Poles, Slovaks, +Jews, and Syrians. The drums grew louder, the pressure from the rear was +relaxed, the throng in Faber Street began a retreat in the direction of +the power plant. Down that street, now in double time, came three +companies of Boston militia, newly arrived in Hampton, blue-taped, +gaitered, slouch-hatted. From columns of fours they wheeled into line, +and with bayonets at charge slowly advanced. Then the boldest of the +mob, who still lingered, sullenly gave way, West Street was cleared, and +on the wider thoroughfare the long line of traffic, the imprisoned +trolleys began to move again.... + +Janet had wedged herself into the press far enough to gain a view down +West Street of the warehouse roofs, to see the water turned on, to hear +the screams and the curses and then the shots. Once more she caught the +contagious rage of the mob; the spectacle had aroused her to fury; it +seemed ignominious, revolting that human beings, already sufficiently +miserable, should be used thus. As she retreated reluctantly across the +car tracks her attention was drawn to a man at her side, a Slovak. His +face was white and pinched, his clothes were wet. Suddenly he stopped, +turned and shook his fist at the line of soldiers. + +"The Cossack, the politzman belong to the boss, the capitalist!" he +cried. "We ain't got no right to live. I say, kill the capitalist--kill +Ditmar!" + +A man with a deputy's shield ran toward them. + +"Move on!" he said brutally. "Move on, or I'll roil you in." And Janet, +once clear of the people, fled westward, the words the foreigner had +spoken ringing in her ears. She found herself repeating them aloud, +"Kill Ditmar!" as she hurried through the gathering dusk past the power +house with its bottle-shaped chimneys, and crossed the little bridge over +the stream beside the chocolate factory. She gained the avenue she had +trod with Eda on that summer day of the circus. Here was the ragpicker's +shop, the fence covered with bedraggled posters, the deserted grand-stand +of the base-ball park spread with a milky-blue mantle of snow; and +beyond, the monotonous frame cottages all built from one model. Now she +descried looming above her the outline of Torrey's Hill blurred and +melting into a darkening sky, and turned into the bleak lane where stood +the Franco-Belgian Hall--Hampton Headquarters of the Industrial Workers +of the World. She halted a moment at sight of the crowd of strikers +loitering in front of it, then went on again, mingling with them +excitedly beside the little building. Its lines were simple and +unpretentious, and yet it had an exotic character all its own, differing +strongly from the surrounding houses: it might have been transported from +a foreign country and set down here. As the home of that odd, +cooperative society of thrifty and gregarious Belgians it had stimulated +her imagination, and once before she had gazed, as now, through the +yellowed, lantern-like windows of the little store at the women and +children waiting to fill their baskets with the day's provisions. In the +middle of the building was an entrance leading up to the second floor. +Presently she gathered the courage to enter. Her heart was pounding as +she climbed the dark stairs and thrust open the door, and she stood a +moment on the threshold almost choked by the fumes of tobacco, bewildered +by the scene within, confused by the noise. Through a haze of smoke she +beheld groups of swarthy foreigners fiercely disputing among themselves-- +apparently on the verge of actual combat, while a sprinkling of silent +spectators of both sexes stood at the back of the hall. At the far end +was a stage, still set with painted, sylvan scenery, and seated there, +alone, above the confusion and the strife, with a calmness, a detachment +almost disconcerting, was a stout man with long hair and a loose black +tie. He was smoking a cigar and reading a newspaper which he presently +flung down, taking up another from a pile on the table beside him. +Suddenly one of the groups, shouting and gesticulating, surged toward him +and made an appeal through their interpreter. He did not appear to be +listening; without so much as lowering his newspaper he spoke a few words +in reply, and the group retired, satisfied. By some incomprehensible +power he dominated. Panting, fascinated, loath to leave yet fearful, +Janet watched him, breathing now deeply this atmosphere of smoke, of +strife, and turmoil. She found it grateful, for the strike, the battle +was in her own soul as well. Momentarily she had forgotten Rolfe, who +had been in her mind as she had come hither, and then she caught sight of +him in a group in the centre of the hall. He saw her, he was making his +way toward her, he was holding her hands, looking down into her face with +that air of appropriation, of possession she remembered. But she felt no +resentment now, only a fierce exultation at having dared. + +"You've come to join us!" he exclaimed. "I thought I'd lost you." + +He bent closer to her that she might hear. + +"We are having a meeting of the Committee," he said, and she smiled. +Despite her agitation, this struck her as humorous. And Rolfe smiled +back at her. "You wouldn't think so, but Antonelli knows how to manage +them. He is a general. Come, I will enlist you, you shall be my +recruit." + +"But what can I do?" she asked. + +"I have been thinking. You said you were a stenographer--we need +stenographers, clerks. You will not be wasted. Come in here." + +Behind her two box-like rooms occupying the width of the building had +been turned into offices, and into one of these Rolfe led her. Men and +women were passing in and out, while in a corner a man behind a desk sat +opening envelopes, deftly extracting bills and post-office orders and +laying them in a drawer. On the wall of this same room was a bookcase +half filled with nondescript volumes. + +"The Bibliotheque--that's French for the library of the Franco-Belgian +Cooperative Association," explained Rolfe. "And this is Comrade Sanders. +Sanders is easier to say than Czernowitz. Here is the young lady I told +you about, who wishes to help us--Miss Bumpus." + +Mr. Sanders stopped counting his money long enough to grin at her. + +"You will be welcome," he said, in good English. "Stenographers are +scarce here. When can you come?" + +"To-morrow morning," answered Janet. + +"Good," he said. "I'll have a machine for you. What kind do you use?" + +She told him. Instinctively she took a fancy to this little man, whose +flannel shirt and faded purple necktie, whose blue, unshaven face and +tousled black hair seemed incongruous with an alert, business-like, and +efficient manner. His nose, though not markedly Jewish, betrayed in him +the blood of that vital race which has triumphantly survived so many +centuries of bondage and oppression. + +"He was a find, Czernowitz--he calls himself Sanders," Rolfe explained, +as they entered the hall once more. "An Operative in the Patuxent, +educated himself, went to night school--might have been a capitalist like +so many of his tribe if he hadn't loved humanity. You'll get along with +him." + +"I'm sure I shall," she replied. + +Rolfe took from his pocket a little red button with the letters I.W.W. +printed across it. He pinned it, caressingly, on her coat. + +"Now you are one of us!" he exclaimed. "You'll come to-morrow?" + +"I'll come to-morrow," she repeated, drawing away from him a little. + +"And--we shall be friends?" + +She nodded. "I must go now, I think." + +"Addio!" he said. "I shall look for you. For the present I must remain +here, with the Committee." + +When Janet reached Faber Street she halted on the corner of Stanley to +stare into the window of the glorified drugstore. But she gave no heed +to the stationery, the cameras and candy displayed there, being in the +emotional state that reduces to unreality objects of the commonplace, +everyday world. Presently, however, she became aware of a man standing +beside her. + +"Haven't we met before?" he asked. "Or--can I be mistaken?" + +Some oddly familiar quizzical note in his voice stirred, as she turned to +him, a lapsed memory. The hawklike yet benevolent and illuminating look +he gave her recalled the man at Silliston whom she had thought a +carpenter though he was dressed now in a warm suit of gray wool, and wore +a white, low collar. + +"In Silliston!" she exclaimed. "Why--what are you doing here?" + +"Well--this instant I was just looking at those notepapers, wondering +which I should choose if I really had good taste. But it's very +puzzling--isn't it?--when one comes from the country. Now that saffron +with the rough edges is very--artistic. Don't you think so?" + +She looked at him and smiled, though his face was serious. + +"You don't really like it, yourself," she informed him. + +"Now you're reflecting on my taste," he declared. + +"Oh no--it's because I saw the fence you were making. Is it finished +yet?" + +"I put the last pineapple in place the day before Christmas. Do you +remember the pineapples?" + +She nodded. "And the house? and the garden?" + +"Oh, those will never be finished. I shouldn't have anything more to +do." + +"Is that--all you do?" she asked. + +"It's more important than anything else. But you have you been back to +Silliston since I saw you? I've been waiting for another call." + +"You haven't even thought of me since," she was moved to reply in the +same spirit. + +"Haven't I?" he exclaimed. "I wondered, when I came up here to Hampton, +whether I mightn't meet you--and here you are! Doesn't that prove it?" + +She laughed, somewhat surprised at the ease with which he had diverted +her, drawn her out of the tense, emotional mood in which he had +discovered her. As before, he puzzled her, but the absence of any +flirtatious suggestion in his talk gave her confidence. He was just +friendly. + +"Sometimes I hoped I might see you in Hampton," she ventured. + +"Well, here I am. I heard the explosion, and came." + +"The explosion! The strike!" she exclaimed; suddenly enlightened. "Now +I remember! You said something about Hampton being nitro-glycerine-- +human nitro-glycerine. You predicted this strike." + +"Did I? perhaps I did," he assented. "Maybe you suggested the idea." + +"I suggested it! Oh no, I didn't--it was new to me, it frightened me at +the time, but it started me thinking about a lot of things that had never +occurred to me." + +"You might have suggested the idea without intending to, you know. There +are certain people who inspire prophecies--perhaps you are one." + +His tone was playful, but she was quick to grasp at an inference--since +his glance was fixed on the red button she wore. + +"You meant that I would explode, too!" + +"Oh no--nothing so terrible as that," he disclaimed. "And yet most of us +have explosives stored away inside of us--instincts, impulses and all +that sort of thing that won't stand too much bottling-up." + +"Yes, I've joined the strike." She spoke somewhat challengingly, though +she had an uneasy feeling that defiance was somewhat out of place with +him. "I suppose you think it strange, since I'm not a foreigner and +haven't worked in the mills. But I don't see why that should make any +difference if you believe that the workers haven't had a chance." + +"No difference," he agreed, pleasantly, "no difference at all." + +"Don't you sympathize with the strikers?" she insisted. "Or--are you on +the other side, the side of the capitalists?" + +"I? I'm a spectator--an innocent bystander." + +"You don't sympathize with the workers?" she cried. + +"Indeed I do. I sympathize with everybody." + +"With the capitalists?" + +"Why not?" + +"Why not? Because they've had everything their own way, they've +exploited the workers, deceived and oppressed them, taken all the +profits." She was using glibly her newly acquired labour terminology. + +"Isn't that a pretty good reason for sympathizing with them?" he +inquired. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Well, I should think it might be difficult to be happy and have done all +that. At any rate, it isn't my notion of happiness. Is it yours?" + +For a moment she considered this. + +"No--not exactly," she admitted. "But they seem happy," she insisted +vehemently, "they have everything they want and they do exactly as they +please without considering anybody except themselves. What do they care +how many they starve and make miserable? You--you don't know, you can't +know what it is to be driven and used and flung away!" + +Almost in tears, she did not notice his puzzled yet sympathetic glance. + +"The operatives, the workers create all the wealth, and the capitalists +take it from them, from their wives and children." + +"Now I know what you've been doing," he said accusingly. "You've been +studying economics." + +Her brow puckered. + +"Studying what?" + +"Economics--the distribution of wealth. It's enough to upset anybody." + +"But I'm not upset," she insisted, smiling in spite of herself at his +comical concern. + +"It's very exciting. I remember reading a book once on economics and +such things, and I couldn't sleep for a week. It was called `The +Organization of Happiness,' I believe, and it described just how the +world ought to be arranged--and isn't. I thought seriously of going to +Washington and telling the President and Congress about it." + +"It wouldn't have done any good," said Janet. + +"No, I realized that." + +"The only thing that will do any good is to strike and keep on striking +until the workers own the mills--take everything away from the +capitalists." + +"It's very simple," he agreed, "much simpler than the book I read. +That's what they call syndicalism, isn't it?" + +"Yes." She was conscious of his friendliness, of the fact that his +skepticism was not cynical, yet she felt a strong desire to convince him, +to vindicate her new creed. "There's a man named Rolfe, an educated man +who's lived in Italy and England, who explains it wonderfully. He's one +of the I.W.W. leaders--you ought to hear him." + +"Rolfe converted you? I'll go to hear him." + +"Yes--but you have to feel it, you have to know what it is to be kept +down and crushed. If you'd only stay here awhile." + +"Oh, I intend to," he replied. + +She could not have said why, but she felt a certain relief on hearing +this. + +"Then you'll see for yourself!" she cried. "I guess that's what you've +come for, isn't it?" + +"Well, partly. To tell the truth, I've come to open a restaurant." + +"To open a restaurant!" Somehow she was unable to imagine him as the +proprietor of a restaurant. "But isn't it rather a bad time?" she +gasped. + +"I don't look as if I had an eye for business--do I? But I have. No, +it's a good time--so many people will be hungry, especially children. +I'm going to open a restaurant for children. Oh, it will be very modest, +of course--I suppose I ought to call it a soup kitchen." + +"Oh!" she exclaimed, staring at him. "Then you really--" the sentence +remained unfinished. "I'm sorry," she said simply. "You made me +think--" + +"Oh, you mustn't pay any attention to what I say. Come 'round and see my +establishment, Number 77 Dey Street, one flight up, no elevator. Will +you?" + +She laughed tremulously as he took her hand. + +"Yes indeed, I will," she promised. And she stood awhile staring after +him. She was glad he had come to Hampton, and yet she did not even know +his name. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +She had got another place--such was the explanation of her new activities +Janet gave to Hannah, who received it passively. And the question +dreaded about Ditmar was never asked. Hannah had become as a child, +performing her tasks by the momentum of habituation, occasionally talking +simply of trivial, every-day affairs, as though the old life were going +on continuously. At times, indeed, she betrayed concern about Edward, +wondering whether he were comfortable at the mill, and she washed and +darned the clothes he sent home by messenger. She hoped he would not +catch cold. Her suffering seemed to have relaxed. It was as though the +tortured portion of her brain had at length been seared. To Janet, her +mother's condition when she had time to think of it--was at once a relief +and a new and terrible source of anxiety. + +Mercifully, however, she had little leisure to reflect on that tragedy, +else her own sanity might have been endangered. As soon as breakfast was +over she hurried across the city to the Franco-Belgian Hall, and often +did not return until nine o'clock at night, usually so tired that she +sank into bed and fell asleep. For she threw herself into her new +labours with the desperate energy that seeks forgetfulness, not daring to +pause to think about herself, to reflect upon what the future might hold +for her when the strike should be over. Nor did she confine herself to +typewriting, but, as with Ditmar, constantly assumed a greater burden of +duty, helping Czernowitz--who had the work of five men--with his +accounts, with the distribution of the funds to the ever-increasing +number of the needy who were facing starvation. The money was paid out +to them in proportion to the size of their families; as the strike became +more and more effective their number increased until many mills had +closed; other mills, including the Chippering, were still making a +desperate attempt to operate their looms, and sixteen thousand operatives +were idle. She grew to know these operatives who poured all day long in +a steady stream through Headquarters; she heard their stories, she +entered into their lives, she made decisions. Some, even in those early +days of the strike, were frauds; were hiding their savings; but for the +most part investigation revealed an appalling destitution, a resolution +to suffer for the worker's cause. A few complained, the majority were +resigned; some indeed showed exaltation and fire, were undaunted by the +task of picketing in the cold mornings, by the presence of the soldiery. +In this work of dealing with the operatives Janet had the advice and help +of Anna Mower, a young woman who herself had been a skilled operative in +the Clarendon Mill, and who was giving evidence of unusual qualities of +organization and leadership. Anna, with no previous practise in oratory, +had suddenly developed the gift of making speeches, the more effective +with her fellow workers because unstudied, because they flowed directly +out of an experience she was learning to interpret and universalize. +Janet, who heard her once or twice, admired and envied her. They became +friends. + +The atmosphere of excitement in which Janet now found herself was +cumulative. Day by day one strange event followed another, and at times +it seemed as if this extraordinary existence into which she had been +plunged were all a feverish dream. Hither, to the absurd little solle de +reunion of the Franco-Belgian Hall came notables from the great world, +emissaries from an uneasy Governor, delegations from the Legislature, +Members of the Congress of the United States and even Senators; students, +investigators, men and women of prominence in the universities, magazine +writers to consult with uncouth leaders of a rebellion that defied and +upset the powers which hitherto had so serenely ruled, unchallenged. +Rolfe identified these visitors, and one morning called her attention to +one who he said was the nation's foremost authority on social science. +Janet possessed all unconsciously the New England reverence for learning, +she was stirred by the sight of this distinguishedlooking person who sat +on the painted stage, fingering his glasses and talking to Antonelli. +The two men made a curious contrast. But her days were full of contrasts +of which her mood exultingly approved. The politicians were received +cavalierly. Toward these, who sought to act as go-betweens in the +conflict, Antonelli was contemptuous; he behaved like the general of a +conquering army, and his audacity was reflected in the other leaders, in +Rolfe, in the Committee itself. + +That Committee, a never-ending source of wonder to Janet, with its nine +or ten nationalities and interpreters, was indeed a triumph over the +obstacles of race and language, a Babel made successful; in a community +of Anglo-Saxon traditions, an amazing anomaly. The habiliments of the +west, the sack coats and sweaters, the slouch hats and caps, the so- +called Derbies pulled down over dark brows and flashing eyes lent to +these peasant types an incongruity that had the air of ferocity. The +faces of most of them were covered with a blue-black stubble of beard. +Some slouched in their chairs, others stood and talked in groups, +gesticulating with cigars and pipes; yet a keen spectator, after watching +them awhile through the smoke, might have been able to pick out striking +personalities among them. He would surely have noticed Froment, the +stout, limping man under whose white eyebrows flashed a pair of livid +blue and peculiarly Gallic eyes; he held the Belgians in his hand: +Lindtzki, the Pole, with his zealot's face; Radeau, the big Canadian in +the checked Mackinaw; and Findley, the young American-less by any +arresting quality of feature than by an expression suggestive of +practical wisdom. + +Imagine then, on an afternoon in the middle phase of the strike, some +half dozen of the law-makers of a sovereign state, top-hatted and +conventionally garbed in black, accustomed to authority, to conferring +favours instead of requesting them, climbing the steep stairs and pausing +on the threshold of that hall, fingering their watch chains, awaiting +recognition by the representatives of the new and bewildering force that +had arisen in an historic commonwealth. A "debate" was in progress. +Some of the debaters, indeed, looked over their shoulders, but the +leader, who sat above them framed in the sylvan setting of the stage, +never so much as deigned to glance up from his newspaper. A half-burned +cigar rolled between his mobile lips, he sat on the back of his neck, and +yet he had an air Napoleonic; Nietzschean, it might better be said-- +although it is safe to assert that these moulders of American +institutions knew little about that terrible philosopher who had raised +his voice against the "slave morals of Christianity." It was their first +experience with the superman.... It remained for the Canadian, Radeau, +when a lull arrived in the turmoil, to suggest that the gentlemen be +given chairs. + +"Sure, give them chairs," assented Antonelli in a voice hoarse from +speech-making. Breath-taking audacity to certain spectators who had +followed the delegation hither, some of whom could not refrain from +speculating whether it heralded the final scrapping of the machinery of +the state; amusing to cynical metropolitan reporters, who grinned at one +another as they prepared to take down the proceedings; evoking a fierce +approval in the breasts of all rebels among whom was Janet. The +Legislative Chairman, a stout and suave gentleman of Irish birth, +proceeded to explain how greatly concerned was the Legislature that the +deplorable warfare within the state should cease; they had come, he +declared, to aid in bringing about justice between labour and capital. + +"We'll get justice without the help of the state," remarked Antonelli +curtly, while a murmur of approval ran through the back of the hall. + +That was scarcely the attitude, said the Chairman, he had expected. He +knew that such a strike as this had engendered bitterness, there had been +much suffering, sacrifice undoubtedly on both sides, but he was sure, if +Mr. Antonelli and the Committee would accept their services here he was +interrupted. + +Had the mill owners accepted their services? + +The Chairman cleared his throat. + +The fact was that the mill owners were more difficult to get together in +a body. A meeting would be arranged-- + +"When you arrange a meeting, let me know," said Antonelli. + +A laugh went around the room. It was undoubtedly very difficult to keep +one's temper under such treatment. The Chairman looked it. + +"A meeting would be arranged," he declared, with a longsuffering +expression. He even smiled a little. "In the meantime--" + +"What can your committee do?" demanded one of the strike leaders, +passionately--it was Findley. "If you find one party wrong, can your +state force it to do right? Can you legislators be impartial when you +have not lived the bitter life of the workers? Would you arbitrate a +question of life and death? And are the worst wages paid in these mills +anything short of death? Do you investigate because conditions are bad? +or because the workers broke loose and struck? Why did you not come +before the strike?" + +This drew more approval from the rear. Why, indeed? The Chairman was +adroit, he had pulled himself out of many tight places in the Assembly +Chamber, but now he began to perspire, to fumble in his coat tails for a +handkerchief. The Legislature, he maintained, could not undertake to +investigate such matters until called to its attention.... + +Later on a tall gentleman, whom heaven had not blessed with tact, saw fit +to deplore the violence that had occurred; he had no doubt the leaders of +the strike regretted it as much as he, he was confident it would be +stopped, when public opinion would be wholly and unreservedly on the side +of the strikers. + +"Public opinion!" savagely cried Lindtzki, who spoke English with only a +slight accent. "If your little boy, if your little girl come to you and +ask for shoes, for bread, and you say, `I have no shoes, I have no bread, +but public opinion is with us,' would that satisfy you?" + +This drew so much applause that the tall law-maker sat down again with a +look of disgust on his face.... The Committee withdrew, and for many +weeks thereafter the state they represented continued to pay some four +thousand dollars daily to keep its soldiers on the streets of Hampton.... + +In the meanwhile Janet saw much of Rolfe. Owing to his facile command of +language he was peculiarly fitted to draft those proclamations, +bombastically worded in the French style, issued and circulated by the +Strike Committee--appeals to the polyglot army to withstand the pangs of +hunger, to hold out for the terms laid down, assurances that victory was +at hand. Walking up and down the bibliottheque, his hands behind his +back, his red lips gleaming as he spoke, he dictated these documents to +Janet. In the ecstasy of this composition he had a way of shaking his +head slowly from side to side, and when she looked up she saw his eyes +burning, down at her. A dozen times a day, while she was at her other +work, he would come in and talk to her. He excited her, she was divided +between attraction and fear of him, and often she resented his easy +assumption that a tie existed between them--the more so because this +seemed to be taken for granted among certain of his associates. In their +eyes, apparently, she was Rolfe's recruit in more senses than one. It +was indeed a strange society in which she found herself, and Rolfe +typified it. He lived on the plane of the impulses and intellect, +discarded as inhibiting factors what are called moral standards, decried +individual discipline and restraint. And while she had never considered +these things, the spectacle of a philosophy--embodied in him--that +frankly and cynically threw them overboard was disconcerting. He +regarded her as his proselyte, he called her a Puritan, and he seemed +more concerned that she should shed these relics of an ancestral code +than acquire the doctrines of Sorel and Pouget. And yet association with +him presented the allurement of a dangerous adventure. Intellectually he +fascinated her; and still another motive--which she partially disguised +from herself--prevented her from repelling him. That motive had to do +with Ditmar. She tried to put Ditmar from her mind; she sought in +desperation, not only to keep busy, but to steep and lose herself in this +fierce creed as an antidote to the insistent, throbbing pain that lay +ambushed against her moments of idleness. The second evening of her +installation at Headquarters she had worked beyond the supper hour, +helping Sanders with his accounts. She was loath to go home. And when +at last she put on her hat and coat and entered the hall Rolfe, who had +been talking to Jastro, immediately approached her. His liquid eyes +regarded her solicitously. + +"You must be hungry," he said. "Come out with me and have some supper." + +But she was not hungry; what she needed was air. Then he would walk a +little way with her--he wanted to talk to her. She hesitated, and then +consented. A fierce hope had again taken possession of her, and when +they came to Warren Street she turned into it. + +"Where are you going?" Rolfe demanded. + +"For a walk," she said. "Aren't you coming?" + +"Will you have supper afterwards?" + +"Perhaps." + +He followed her, puzzled, yet piqued and excited by her manner, as with +rapid steps she hurried along the pavement. He tried to tell her what +her friendship meant to him; they were, he declared, kindred spirits-- +from the first time he had seen her, on the Common, he had known this. +She scarcely heard him, she was thinking of Ditmar; and this was why she +had led Rolfe into Warren Street they might meet Ditmar! It was possible +that he would be going to the mill at this time, after his dinner! She +scrutinized every distant figure, and when they reached the block in +which he lived she walked more slowly. From within the house came to +her, faintly, the notes of a piano--his daughter Amy was practising. It +was the music, a hackneyed theme of Schubert's played heavily, that +seemed to arouse the composite emotion of anger and hatred, yet of +sustained attraction and wild regret she had felt before, but never so +poignantly as now. And she lingered, perversely resolved to steep +herself in the agony. + +"Who lives here" Rolfe asked. + +"Mr. Ditmar," she answered. + +"The agent of the Chippering Mill?" + +She nodded. + +"He's the worst of the lot," Rolfe said angrily. "If it weren't for him, +we'd have this strike won to-day. He owns this town, he's run it to suit +himself, He stiffens up the owners and holds the other mills in line. +He's a type, a driver, the kind of man we must get rid of. Look at him-- +he lives in luxury while his people are starving." + +"Get rid of!" repeated Janet, in an odd voice. + +"Oh, I don't mean to shoot him," Rolfe declared. "But he may get shot, +for all I know, by some of these slaves he's made desperate." + +"They wouldn't dare shoot him," Janet said. "And whatever he is, he +isn't a coward. He's stronger than the others, he's more of a man." + +Rolfe looked at her curiously. + +"What do you know about him?" he asked. + +"I--I know all about him. I was his stenographer." + +"You! His stenographer! Then why are you herewith us?" + +"Because I hate him!" she cried vehemently. "Because I've learned that +it's true--what you say about the masters--they only think of themselves +and their kind, and not of us. They use us." + +"He tried to use you! You loved him!" + +"How dare you say that!" + +He fell back before her anger. + +"I didn't mean to offend you," he exclaimed. "I was jealous--I'm jealous +of every man you've known. I want you. I've never met a woman like +you." + +They were the very words Ditmar had used! She did not answer, and for a +while they walked along in silence, leaving Warren Street and cutting +across the city until they canoe in sight of the Common. Rolfe drew +nearer to her. + +"Forgive me!" he pleaded. "You know I would not offend you. Come, we'll +have supper together, and I will teach you more of what you have to +know." + +"Where?" she asked. + +"At the Hampton--it is a little cafe where we all go. Perhaps you've +been there." + +"No," said Janet. + +"It doesn't compare with the cafes of Europe--or of New York. Perhaps we +shall go to them sometime, together. But it is cosy, and warm, and all +the leaders will be there. You'll come--yes?" + +"Yes, I'll come," she said.... + +The Hampton was one of the city's second-class hotels, but sufficiently +pretentious to have, in its basement, a "cafe" furnished in the "mission" +style of brass tacks and dull red leather. In the warm, food-scented air +fantastic wisps of smoke hung over the groups; among them Janet made out +several of the itinerant leaders of Syndicalism, loose-tied, debonnair, +giving a tremendous impression of freedom as they laughed and chatted +with the women. For there were women, ranging from the redoubtable +Nellie Bond herself down to those who may be designated as campfollowers. +Rolfe, as he led Janet to a table in a corner of the room, greeted his +associates with easy camaraderie. From Miss Bond he received an +illuminating smile. Janet wondered at her striking good looks, at the +boldness and abandon with which she talked to Jastro or exchanged sallies +across the room. The atmosphere of this tawdry resort, formerly +frequented by shop girls and travelling salesmen, was magically +transformed by the presence of this company, made bohemian, cosmopolitan, +exhilarating. And Janet, her face flushed, sat gazing at the scene, +while Rolfe consulted the bill of fare and chose a beefsteak and French +fried potatoes. The apathetic waiter in the soiled linen jacket he +addressed as "comrade." Janet protested when he ordered cocktails. + +"You must learn to live, to relax, to enjoy yourself," he declared. + +But a horror of liquor held her firm in her refusal. Rolfe drank his, +and while they awaited the beefsteak she was silent, the prey of certain +misgivings that suddenly assailed her. Lise, she remembered, had +sometimes mentioned this place, though preferring Gruber's: and she was +struck by the contrast between this spectacle and the grimness of the +strike these people had come to encourage and sustain, the conflict in +the streets, the suffering in the tenements. She glanced at Rolfe, +noting the manner in which he smoked cigarettes, sensually, as though +seeking to wring out of each all there was to be got before flinging it +down and lighting another. Again she was struck by the anomaly of a +religion that had indeed enthusiasms, sacrifices perhaps, but no +disciplines. He threw it out in snatches, this religion, while relating +the histories of certain persons in the room: of Jastro, for instance, +letting fall a hint to the effect that this evangelist and bliss Bond +were dwelling together in more than amity. + +"Then you don't believe in marriage?" she demanded, suddenly. + +Rolfe laughed. + +"What is it," he exclaimed, "but the survival of the system of property? +It's slavery, taboo, a device upheld by the master class to keep women in +bondage, in superstition, by inducing them to accept it as a decree of +God." + +"Did the masters themselves ever respect it, or any other decrees of God +they preached to the slaves? Read history, and you will see. They had +their loves, their mistresses. Read the newspapers, and you will find +out whether they respect it to-day. But they are very anxious to have +you and me respect it and all the other Christian commandments, because +they will prevent us from being discontented. They say that we must be +satisfied with the situation in this world in which God has placed us, +and we shall have our reward in the next." + +She shivered slightly, not only at the ideas thus abruptly enunciated, +but because it occurred to her that those others must be taking for +granted a certain relationship between herself and Rolfe.... But +presently, when the supper arrived, these feelings changed. She was very +hungry, and the effect of the food, of the hot coffee was to dispel her +doubt and repugnance, to throw a glamour over the adventure, to restore +to Rolfe's arguments an exciting and alluring appeal. And with renewed +physical energy she began to experience once more a sense of fellowship +with these free and daring spirits who sought to avenge her wrongs and +theirs. + +"For us who create there are no rules of conduct, no conventions," Rolfe +was saying, "we do not care for the opinions of the middle class, of the +bourgeois. With us men and women are on an equality. It is fear that +has kept the workers down, and now we have cast that off--we know our +strength. As they say in Italy, il mondo e a chi se lo piglia, the world +belongs to him who is bold." + +"Italian is a beautiful language," she exclaimed. + +"I will teach you Italian," he said. + +"I want to learn--so much!" she sighed. + +"Your soul is parched," he said, in a commiserating tone. "I will water +it, I will teach you everything." His words aroused a faint, derisive +echo: Ditmar had wish to teach her, too! But now she was strongly under +the spell of the new ideas hovering like shining, gossamer spirits just +beyond her reach, that she sought to grasp and correlate. Unlike the +code which Rolfe condemned, they seemed not to be separate from life, +opposed to it, but entered even into that most important of its elements, +sex. In deference to that other code Ditmar had made her his mistress, +and because he was concerned for his position and the security of the +ruling class had sought to hide the fact.... Rolfe, with a cigarette +between his red lips, sat back in his chair, regarding with sensuous +enjoyment the evident effect of his arguments. + +"But love?" she interrupted, when presently he had begun to talk again. +She strove inarticulately to express an innate feminine objection to +relationships that were made and broken at pleasure. + +"Love is nothing but attraction between the sexes, the life-force working +in us. And when that attraction ceases, what is left? Bondage. The +hideous bondage of Christian marriage, in which women promise to love and +obey forever." + +"But women--women are not like men. When once they give themselves they +do not so easily cease to love. They--they suffer." + +He did not seem to observe the bitterness in her voice. + +"Ah, that is sentiment," he declared, "something that will not trouble +women when they have work to do, inspiring work. It takes time to change +our ideas, to learn to see things as they are." He leaned forward +eagerly. "But you will learn, you are like some of those rare women in +history who have had the courage to cast off traditions. You were not +made to be a drudge...." + +But now her own words, not his, were ringing in her head--women do not so +easily cease to love, they suffer. In spite of the new creed she had so +eagerly and fiercely embraced, in which she had sought deliverance and +retribution, did she still love Ditmar, and suffer because of him? She +repudiated the suggestion, yet it persisted as she glanced at Rolfe's red +lips and compared him with Ditmar. Love! Rolfe might call it what he +would--the life-force, attraction between the sexes, but it was proving +stronger than causes and beliefs. He too was making love to her; like +Ditmar, he wanted her to use and fling away when he should grow weary. +Was he not pleading for himself rather than for the human cause he +professed? taking advantage of her ignorance and desperation, of her +craving for new experience and knowledge? The suspicion sickened her. +Were all men like that? Suddenly, without apparent premeditation or +connection, the thought of the stranger from Silliston entered her mind. +Was he like that?... Rolfe was bending toward her across the table, +solicitously. "What's the matter?" he asked. + +Her reply was listless. + +"Nothing--except that I'm tired. I want to go home." + +"Not now," he begged. "It's early yet." + +But she insisted.... + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +The next day at the noon hour Janet entered Dey Street. Cheek by jowl +there with the tall tenements whose spindled-pillared porches overhung +the darkened pavements were smaller houses of all ages and descriptions, +their lower floors altered to accommodate shops; while in the very midst +of the block stood a queer wooden building with two rows of dormer +windows let into its high-pitched roof. It bore a curious resemblance to +a town hall in the low countries. In front of it the street was filled +with children gazing up at the doorway where a man stood surveying them-- +the stranger from Silliston. There was a rush toward him, a rush that +drove Janet against the wall almost at his side, and he held up his hands +in mock despair, gently impeding the little bodies that strove to enter. +He bent over them to examine the numerals, printed on pasteboard, they +wore on their breasts. His voice was cheerful, yet compassionate. + +"It's hard to wait, I know. I'm hungry myself," he said. "But we can't +all go up at once. The building would fall down! One to one hundred +now, and the second hundred will be first for supper. That's fair, isn't +it?" + +Dozens of hands were raised. + +"I'm twenty-nine!" + +"I'm three, mister!" + +"I'm forty-one!" + +He let them in, one by one, and they clattered up the stairs, as he +seized a tiny girl bundled in a dark red muffler and set her on the steps +above him. He smiled at Janet. + +"This is my restaurant," he said. + +But she could not answer. She watched him as he continued to bend over +the children, and when the smaller ones wept because they had to wait, he +whispered in their ears, astonishing one or two into laughter. Some +ceased crying and clung to him with dumb faith. And after the chosen +hundred had been admitted he turned to her again. + +"You allow visitors?" + +"Oh dear, yes. They'd come anyway. There's one up there now, a very +swell lady from New York--so swell I don't know what to say to her. Talk +to her for me." + +"But I shouldn't know what to say, either," replied Janet. She smiled, +but she had an odd desire to cry. "What is she doing here?" + +"Oh, thrashing 'round, trying to connect with life--she's one of the +unfortunate unemployed." + +"Unemployed?" + +"The idle rich," he explained. "Perhaps you can give her a job--enlist +her in the I.W.W." + +"We don't want that kind," Janet declared. + +"Have pity on her," he begged. "Nobody wants them--that's why they're so +pathetic." + +She accompanied him up the narrow stairway to a great loft, the bareness +of which had been tempered by draped American flags. From the trusses of +the roof hung improvised electric lights, and the children were already +seated at the four long tables, where half a dozen ladies were supplying +them with enamelled bowls filled with steaming soup. They attacked it +ravenously, and the absence of the talk and laughter that ordinarily +accompany children's feasts touched her, impressed upon her, as nothing +else had done, the destitution of the homes from which these little ones +had come. The supplies that came to Hampton, the money that poured into +Headquarters were not enough to allay the suffering even now. And what +if the strike should last for months! Would they be able to hold out, to +win? In this mood of pity, of anxiety mingled with appreciation and +gratitude for what this man was doing, she turned to speak to him, to +perceive on the platform at the end of the room a lady seated. So +complete was the curve of her back that her pose resembled a letter u set +sidewise, the gap from her crossed knee to her face being closed by a +slender forearm and hand that held a lorgnette, through which she was +gazing at the children with an apparently absorbed interest. This +impression of willowy flexibility was somehow heightened by large, pear- +shaped pendants hanging from her ears, by a certain filminess in her +black costume and hat. Flung across the table beside her was a long coat +of grey fur. She struck an odd note here, presented a strange contrast +to Janet's friend from Silliston, with his rough suit and fine but rugged +features. + +"I'm sorry I haven't a table for you just at present," he was saying. +"But perhaps you'll let me take your order,"--and he imitated the +obsequious attitude of a waiter. "A little fresh caviar and a clear +soup, and then a fish--?" + +The lady took down her lorgnette and raised an appealing face. + +"You're always joking, Brooks," she chided him, "even when you're doing +things like this! I can't get you to talk seriously even when I come all +the way from New York to find out what's going on here." + +"How hungry children eat, for instance?" he queried. + +"Dear little things, it's heartrending!" she exclaimed. "Especially when +I think of my own children, who have to be made to eat. Tell me the +nationality of that adorable tot at the end." + +"Perhaps Miss Bumpus can tell you," he ventured. And Janet, though +distinctly uncomfortable and hostile to the lady, was surprised and +pleased that he should have remembered her name. "Brooks," she had +called him. That was his first name. This strange and sumptuous person +seemed intimate with him. Could it be possible that he belonged to her +class? "Mrs. Brocklehurst, Miss Bumpus." + +Mrs. Brocklehurst focussed her attention on Janet, through the lorgnette, +but let it fall immediately, smiling on her brightly, persuasively. + +"How d'ye do?" she said, stretching forth a slender arm and taking the +girl's somewhat reluctant hand. "Do come and sit down beside me and tell +me about everything here. I'm sure you know--you look so intelligent." + +Her friend from Silliston shot at Janet an amused but fortifying glance +and left them, going down to the tables. Somehow that look of his helped +to restore in her a sense of humour and proportion, and her feeling +became one of curiosity concerning this exquisitely soigneed being of an +order she had read about, but never encountered--an order which her newly +acquired views declared to be usurpers and parasites. But despite her +palpable effort to be gracious perhaps because of it--Mrs. Brocklehurst +had an air about her that was disconcerting! Janet, however, seemed +composed as she sat down. + +"I'm afraid I don't know very much. Maybe you will tell me something, +first." + +"Why, certainly," said Mrs. Brocklehurst, sweetly when she had got her +breath. + +"Who is that man?" Janet asked. + +"Whom do you mean--Mr. Insall?" + +"Is that his name? I didn't know. I've seen him twice, but he never +told me." + +"Why, my dear, do you mean to say you haven't heard of Brooks Insall?" + +"Brooks Insall." Janet repeated the name, as her eyes sought his figure +between the tables. "No." + +"I'm sure I don't know why I should have expected you to hear of him," +declared the lady, repentantly. "He's a writer--an author." And at this +Janet gave a slight exclamation of pleasure and surprise. "You admire +writers? He's done some delightful things." + +"What does he write about?" Janet asked. + +"Oh, wild flowers and trees and mountains and streams, and birds and +humans--he has a wonderful insight into people." + +Janet was silent. She was experiencing a swift twinge of jealousy, of +that familiar rebellion against her limitations. + +"You must read them, my dear," Mrs. Brocklehurst continued softly, in +musical tones. "They are wonderful, they have such distinction. He's +walked, I'm told, over every foot of New England, talking to the farmers +and their wives and--all sorts of people." She, too, paused to let her +gaze linger upon Insall laughing and chatting with the children as they +ate. "He has such a splendid, `out-door' look don't you think? And he's +clever with his hands he bought an old abandoned farmhouse in Silliston +and made it all over himself until it looks as if one of our great-great- +grandfathers had just stepped out of it to shoot an Indian only much +prettier. And his garden is a dream. It's the most unique place I've +ever known." + +Janet blushed deeply as she recalled how she had mistaken him for a +carpenter: she was confused, overwhelmed, she had a sudden longing to +leave the place, to be alone, to think about this discovery. Yet she +wished to know more. + +"But how did he happen to come here to Hampton--to be doing this?" she +asked. + +"Well, that's just what makes him interesting, one never can tell what +he'll do. He took it into his head to collect the money to feed these +children; I suppose he gave much of it himself. He has an income of his +own, though he likes to live so simply." + +"This place--it's not connected with any organization?" Janet ejaculated. + +"That's the trouble, he doesn't like organizations, and he doesn't seem +to take any interest in the questions or movements of the day," Mrs. +Brocklehurst complained. "Or at least he refuses to talk about them, +though I've known him for many years, and his people and mine were +friends. Now there are lots of things I want to learn, that I came up +from New York to find out. I thought of course he'd introduce me to the +strike leaders, and he tells me he doesn't know one of them. Perhaps you +know them," she added, with sudden inspiration. + +"I'm only an employee at Strike Headquarters," Janet replied, stiffening +a little despite the lady's importuning look--which evidently was usually +effective. + +"You mean the I.W.W.?" + +"Yes." + +Meanwhile Insall had come up and seated himself below them on the edge of +the platform. + +"Oh, Brooks, your friend Miss Bumpus is employed in the Strike +Headquarters!" Mrs. Brocklehurst cried, and turning to Janet she went on. +"I didn't realize you were a factory girl, I must say you don't look it." + +Once more a gleam of amusement from Insall saved Janet, had the effect of +compelling her to meet the affair somewhat after his own manner. He +seemed to be putting the words into her mouth, and she even smiled a +little, as she spoke. + +"You never can tell what factory girls do look like in these days," she +observed mischievously. + +"That's so," Mrs. Brocklehurst agreed, "we are living in such +extraordinary times, everything topsy turvy. I ought to have realized-- +it was stupid of me--I know several factory girls in New York, I've been +to their meetings, I've had them at my house--shirtwaist strikers." + +She assumed again the willowy, a position, her fingers clasped across her +knee, her eyes supplicatingly raised to Janet. Then she reached out her +hand and touched the I.W.W. button. "Do tell me all about the +Industrial Workers, and what they believe," she pleaded. + +"Well," said Janet, after a slight pause, "I'm afraid you won't like it +much. Why do you want to know?" + +"Because I'm so interested--especially in the women of the movement. I +feel for them so, I want to help--to do something, too. Of course you're +a suffragist." + +"You mean, do I believe in votes for women? Yes, I suppose I do." + +"But you must," declared Mrs. Brocklehurst, still sweetly, but with +emphasis. "You wouldn't be working, you wouldn't be striking unless you +did." + +"I've never thought about it," said Janet. + +"But how are you working girls ever going to raise wages unless you get +the vote? It's the only way men ever get anywhere--the politicians +listen to them." She produced from her bag a gold pencil and a tablet. +"Mrs. Ned Carfax is here from Boston--I saw her for a moment at the hotel +she's been here investigating for nearly three days, she tells me. I'll +have her send you suffrage literature at once, if you'll give me your +address." + +"You want a vote?" asked Janet, curiously, gazing at the pearl earrings. + +"Certainly I want one." + +"Why?" + +"Why?" repeated Mrs. Brocklehurst. + +"Yes. You must have everything you want." + +Even then the lady's sweet reasonableness did not desert her. She smiled +winningly, displaying two small and even rows of teeth. + +"On principle, my dear. For one reason, because I have such sympathy +with women who toil, and for another, I believe the time has come when +women must no longer be slaves, they must assert themselves, become +individuals, independent." + +"But you?" exclaimed Janet. + +Mrs. Brocklehurst continued to smile encouragingly, and murmured "Yes?" + +"You are not a slave." + +A delicate pink, like the inside of a conch shell, spread over Mrs. +Brocklehurst's cheeks. + +"We're all slaves," she declared with a touch of passion. "It's hard for +you to realize, I know, about those of us who seem more fortunate than +our sisters. But it's true. The men give us jewels and automobiles and +clothes, but they refuse to give us what every real woman craves-- +liberty." + +Janet had become genuinely interested. + +"But what kind of liberty?" + +"Liberty to have a voice, to take part in the government of our country, +to help make the laws, especially those concerning working-women and +children, what they ought to be." + +Here was altruism, truly! Here were words that should have inspired +Janet, yet she was silent. Mrs. Brocklehurst gazed at her solicitously. + +"What are you thinking?" she urged--and it was Janet's turn to flush. + +"I was just thinking that you seemed to have everything life has to give, +and yet--and yet you're not happy." + +"Oh, I'm not unhappy," protested the lady. "Why do you say that?" + +"I don't know. You, too, seem to be wanting something." + +"I want to be of use, to count," said Mrs. Brocklehurst,--and Janet was +startled to hear from this woman's lips the very echo of her own desires. + +Mrs. Brocklehurst's feelings had become slightly complicated. It is +perhaps too much to say that her complacency was shaken. She was, +withal, a person of resolution--of resolution taking the form of +unswerving faith in herself, a faith persisting even when she was being +carried beyond her depth. She had the kind of pertinacity that sever +admits being out of depth, the happy buoyancy that does not require to +feel the bottom under one's feet. She floated in swift currents. When +life became uncomfortable, she evaded it easily; and she evaded it now, +as she gazed at the calm but intent face of the girl in front of her, by +a characteristic inner refusal to admit that she had accidentally come in +contact with something baking. Therefore she broke the silence. + +"Isn't that what you want--you who are striking?" she asked. + +"I think we want the things that you've got," said Janet. A phrase one +of the orators had used came into her mind, "Enough money to live up to +American standards"--but she did not repeat it. "Enough money to be +free, to enjoy life, to have some leisure and amusement and luxury." The +last three she took from the orator's mouth. + +"But surely," exclaimed Mrs. Brocklehurst, "surely you want more than +that!" + +Janet shook her head. + +"You asked me what we believed, the I.W.W., the syndicalists, and I told +you you wouldn't like it. Well, we believe in doing away with you, the +rich, and taking all you have for ourselves, the workers, the producers. +We believe you haven't any right to what you've got, that you've fooled +and cheated us out of it. That's why we women don't care much about the +vote, I suppose, though I never thought of it. We mean to go on striking +until we've got all that you've got." + +"But what will become of us?" said Mrs. Brocklehurst. "You wouldn't do +away with all of us! I admit there are many who don't--but some do +sympathize with you, will help you get what you want, help you, perhaps, +to see things more clearly, to go about it less--ruthlessly." + +"I've told you what we believe," repeated Janet. + +"I'm so glad I came," cried Mrs. Brocklehurst. "It's most interesting! +I never knew what the syndicalists believed. Why, it's like the French +Revolution--only worse. How are you going to get rid of us? cut our +heads off?" + +Janet could not refrain from smiling. + +"Let you starve, I suppose." + +"Really!" said Mrs. Brocklehurst, and appeared to be trying to visualize +the process. She was a true Athenian, she had discovered some new thing, +she valued discoveries more than all else in life, she collected them, +though she never used them save to discuss them with intellectuals at her +dinner parties. "Now you must let me come to Headquarters and get a +glimpse of some of the leaders--of Antonelli, and I'm told there's a +fascinating man named Rowe." + +"Rolfe," Janet corrected. + +"Rolfe--that's it." She glanced down at the diminutive watch, set with +diamonds, on her wrist, rose and addressed Insall. "Oh dear, I must be +going, I'm to lunch with Nina Carfax at one, and she's promised to tell +me a lot of things. She's writing an article for Craven's Weekly all +about the strike and the suffering and injustice--she says it's been +horribly misrepresented to the public, the mill owners have had it all +their own way. I think what you're doing is splendid, Brooks, only--" +here she gave him an appealing, rather commiserating look--"only I do +wish you would take more interest in--in underlying principles." + +Insall smiled. + +"It's a question of brains. You have to have brains to be a +sociologist," he answered, as he held up for her the fur coat. With a +gesture of gentle reproof she slipped into it, and turned to Janet. + +"You must let me see more of you, my dear," she said. "I'm at the best +hotel, I can't remember the name, they're all so horrible--but I'll be +here until to-morrow afternoon. I want to find out everything. Come and +call on me. You're quite the most interesting person I've met for a long +time--I don't think you realize how interesting you are. Au revoir!" +She did not seem to expect any reply, taking acquiescence for granted. +Glancing once more at the rows of children, who had devoured their meal +in an almost uncanny silence, she exclaimed, "The dears! I'm going to +send you a cheque, Brooks, even if you have been horrid to me--you always +are." + +"Horrid!" repeated Insall, "put it down to ignorance." + +He accompanied her down the stairs. From her willowy walk a +sophisticated observer would have hazarded the guess that her search for +an occupation had included a course of lessons in fancy dancing. + +Somewhat dazed by this interview which had been so suddenly forced upon +her, Janet remained seated on the platform. She had the perception to +recognize that in Mrs. Brocklehurst and Insall she had come in contact +with a social stratum hitherto beyond the bounds of her experience; those +who belonged to that stratum were not characterized by the possession of +independent incomes alone, but by an attitude toward life, a manner of +not appearing to take its issues desperately. Ditmar was not like that. +She felt convicted of enthusiasms, she was puzzled, rather annoyed and +ashamed. Insall and Mrs. Brocklehurst, different though they were, had +this attitude in common.... Insall, when he returned, regarded her +amusedly. + +"So you'd like to exterminate Mrs. Brocklehurst?" he asked. + +And Janet flushed. "Well, she forced me to say it." + +"Oh, it didn't hurt her," he said. + +"And it didn't help her," Janet responded quickly. + +"No, it didn't help her," Insall agreed, and laughed. + +"But I'm not sure it isn't true," she went on, "that we want what she's +got." The remark, on her own lips, surprised Janet a little. She had +not really meant to make it. Insall seemed to have the quality of +forcing one to think out loud. + +"And what she wants, you've got," he told her. + +"What have I got?" + +"Perhaps you'll find out, some day." + +"It may be too late," she exclaimed. "If you'd only tell me, it might +help." + +"I think it's something you'll have to discover for yourself," he +replied, more gravely than was his wont. + +She was silent a moment, and then she demanded: "Why didn't you tell me +who you were? You let me think, when I met you in Silliston that day, +that you were a carpenter. I didn't know you'd written books." + +"You can't expect writers to wear uniforms, like policemen--though +perhaps we ought to, it might be a little fairer to the public," he said. +"Besides, I am a carpenter, a better carpenter than a writer.." + +"I'd give anything to be an author!" she cried. + +"It's a hard life," he assured her. "We have to go about seeking +inspiration from others." + +"Is that why you came to Hampton?" + +"Well, not exactly. It's a queer thing about inspiration, you only find +it when you're not looking for it." + +She missed the point of this remark, though his eyes were on her. They +were not like Rolfe's eyes, insinuating, possessive; they had the +anomalistic quality, of being at once personel and impersonal, friendly, +alight, evoking curiosity yet compelling trust. + +"And you didn't tell me," he reproached her, "that you were at I.W.W. +Headquarters." + +A desire for self-justification impelled her to exclaim: "You don't +believe in Syndicalism--and yet you've come here to feed these children!" + +"Oh, I think I understand the strike," he said. + +"How? Have you seen it? Have you heard the arguments?" + +"No. I've seen you. You've explained it." + +"To Mrs. Brocklehurst?" + +"It wasn't necessary," he replied--and immediately added, in semi-serious +apology: "I thought it was admirable, what you said. If she'd talked to +a dozen syndicalist leaders, she couldn't have had it put more clearly. +Only I'm afraid she doesn't know the truth when she hears it." + +"Now you're making fun of me!" + +"Indeed I'm not," he protested. + +"But I didn't give any of the arguments, any of the--philosophy," she +pronounced the word hesitatingly. "I don't understand it yet as well as +I should." + +"You are it," he said. "It's not always easy to understand what we are-- +it's generally after we've become something else that we comprehend what +we have been." + +And while she was pondering over this one of the ladies who had been +waiting on the table came toward Insall. + +"The children have finished, Brooks," she informed him. "It's time to +let in the others." + +Insall turned to Janet. "This is Miss Bumpus--and this is Mrs. Maturin," +he said. "Mrs. Maturin lives in Silliston." + +The greeting of this lady differed from that of Mrs. Brocklehurst. She, +too, took Janet's hand. + +"Have you come to help us?" she asked. + +And Janet said: "Oh, I'd like to, but I have other work." + +"Come in and see us again," said Insall, and Janet, promising, took her +leave.... + +"Who is she, Brooks?" Mrs. Maturin asked, when Janet had gone. + +"Well," he answered, "I don't know. What does it matter?" + +Mrs. Maturin smiled. + +"I should say that it did matter," she replied. "But there's something +unusual about her--where did you find her?" + +"She found me." And Insall explained. "She was a stenographer, it +seems, but now she's enlisted heart and soul with the syndicalists," he +added. + +"A history?" Mrs. Maturin queried. "Well, I needn't ask--it's written on +her face." + +"That's all I know," said Insall. + +"I'd like to know," said Mrs. Maturin. "You say she's in the strike?" + +"I should rather put it that the strike is in her." + +"What do you mean, Brooks?" + +But Insall did not reply. + +Janet came away from Dey Street in a state of mental and emotional +confusion. The encounter with Mrs. Brocklehurst had been upsetting; she +had an uneasy feeling of having made a fool of herself in Insall's eyes; +she desired his approval, even on that occasion when she had first met +him and mistaken him for a workman she had been conscious of a compelling +faculty in him, of a pressure he exerted demanding justification of +herself; and to-day, because she was now pledged to Syndicalism, because +she had made the startling discovery that he was a writer of some renown, +she had been more than ever anxious to vindicate her cause. She found +herself, indeed, wondering uneasily whether there were a higher truth of +which he was in possession. And the fact that his attitude toward her +had been one of sympathy and friendliness rather than of disapproval, +that his insight seemed to have fathomed her case, apprehended it in all +but the details, was even more disturbing--yet vaguely consoling. The +consolatory element in the situation was somehow connected with the lady, +his friend from Silliston, to whom he had introduced her and whose image +now came before her the more vividly, perhaps, in contrast with that of +Mrs. Brocklehurst. Mrs. Maturin--could Janet have so expressed her +thought! had appeared as an extension of Insall's own personality. She +was a strong, tall, vital woman with a sweet irregularity of feature, +with a heavy crown of chestnut hair turning slightly grey, quaintly +braided, becomingly framing her face. Her colour was high. The +impression she conveyed of having suffered was emphasized by the simple +mourning gown she wore, but the dominant note she had struck was one of +dependability. It was, after all, Insall's dominant, too. Insall had +asked her to call again; and the reflection that she might do so was +curiously comforting. The soup kitchen in the loft, with these two +presiding over it, took on something of the aspect of a sanctuary.... + +Insall, in some odd manner, and through the medium of that frivolous +lady, had managed to reenforce certain doubts that had been stirring in +Janet--doubts of Rolfe, of the verity of the doctrine which with such +abandon she had embraced. It was Insall who, though remaining silent, +just by being there seemed to have suggested her manner of dealing with +Mrs. Brocklehurst. It had, indeed, been his manner of dealing with Mrs. +Brocklehurst. Janet had somehow been using his words, his method, and +thus for the first time had been compelled to look objectively on what +she had deemed a part of herself. We never know what we are, he had +said, until we become something else! He had forced her to use an +argument that failed to harmonize, somehow, with Rolfe's poetical +apologetics. Stripped of the glamour of these, was not Rolfe's doctrine +just one of taking, taking? And when the workers were in possession of +all, would not they be as badly off as Mrs. Brocklehurst or Ditmar? +Rolfe, despite the inspiring intellectual creed he professed, lacked the +poise and unity that go with happiness. He wanted things, for himself: +whereas she beheld in Insall one who seemed emancipated from possessions, +whose life was so organized as to make them secondary affairs. And she +began to wonder what Insall would think of Ditmar. + +These sudden flashes of tenderness for Ditmar startled and angered her. +She had experienced them before, and always had failed to account for +their intrusion into a hatred she cherished. Often, at her desk in the +bibliotheque, she had surprised herself speculating upon what Ditmar +might be doing at that moment; and it seemed curious, living in the same +city with him, that she had not caught a glimpse of him during the +strike. More than once, moved by a perverse impulse, she had ventured of +an evening down West Street toward the guard of soldiers in the hope of +catching sight of him. He had possessed her, and the memory of the wild +joy of that possession, of that surrender to great strength, refused to +perish. Why, at such moments, should she glory in a strength that had +destroyed her and why, when she heard him cursed as the man who stood, +more than any other, in the way of the strikers victory, should she +paradoxically and fiercely rejoice? why should she feel pride when she +was told of the fearlessness with which he went about the streets, and +her heart stop beating when she thought of the possibility of his being +shot? For these unwelcome phenomena within herself Janet could not +account. When they disturbed and frightened her, she plunged into her +work with the greater zeal.... + +As the weeks went by, the strain of the strike began to tell on the weak, +the unprepared, on those who had many mouths to feed. Shivering with the +cold of that hardest of winters, these unfortunates flocked to the +Franco-Belgian Hall, where a little food or money in proportion to the +size of their families was doled out to them. In spite of the +contributions received by mail, of the soup kitchens and relief stations +set up by various organizations in various parts of the city, the supply +little more than sufficed to keep alive the more needy portion of the +five and twenty thousand who now lacked all other means of support. +Janet's heart was wrung as she gazed at the gaunt, bewildered faces +growing daily more tragic, more bewildered and gaunt; she marvelled at +the animal-like patience of these Europeans, at the dumb submission of +most of them to privations that struck her as appalling. Some indeed +complained, but the majority recited in monotonous, unimpassioned tones +their stories of suffering, or of ill treatment by the "Cossacks" or the +police. The stipends were doled out by Czernowitz, but all through the +week there were special appeals. Once it was a Polish woman, wan and +white, who carried her baby wrapped in a frayed shawl. + +"Wahna littel money for milk," she said, when at length their attention +was drawn to her. + +"But you get your money, every Saturday," the secretary informed her +kindly. + +She shook her head. + +"Baby die, 'less I have littel milk--I show you." + +Janet drew back before the sight of the child with its sunken cheeks and +ghastly blue lips .... And she herself went out with the woman to buy +the milk, and afterwards to the dive in Kendall Street which she called +home--in one of those "rear" tenements separated from the front buildings +by a narrow court reeking with refuse. The place was dank and cold, +malodorous. The man of the family, the lodgers who lived in the other +room of the kennel, were out on the streets. But when her eyes grew used +to the darkness she perceived three silent children huddled in the bed in +the corner.... + +On another occasion a man came running up the stairs of the Hall and +thrust his way into a meeting of the Committee--one of those normally +happy, irresponsible Syrians who, because of a love for holidays, are the +despair of mill overseers. Now he was dazed, breathless, his great eyes +grief-stricken like a wounded animal's. + +"She is killidd, my wife--de polees, dey killidd her!" + +It was Anna Mower who investigated the case. "The girl wasn't doing +nothing but walk along Hudson Street when one of those hirelings set on +her and beat her. She put out her hand because she thought he'd hit her- +-and he gave her three or four with his billy and left her in the gutter. +If you'd see her you'd know she wouldn't hurt a fly, she's that gentle +looking, like all the Syrian women. She had a `Don't be a scab' ribbon +on--that's all she done! Somebody'll shoot that guy, and I wouldn't +blame 'em." Anna stood beside Janet's typewriter, her face red with +anger as she told the story. + +"And how is the woman now?" asked Janet. + +"In bed, with two ribs broken and a bruise on her back and a cut on her +head. I got a doctor. He could hardly see her in that black place they +live."... + +Such were the incidents that fanned the hatred into hotter and hotter +flame. Daily reports were brought in of arrests, of fines and +imprisonments for picketing, or sometimes merely for booing at the +remnant of those who still clung to their employment. One magistrate in +particular, a Judge Hennessy, was hated above all others for giving the +extreme penalty of the law, and even stretching it. "Minions, slaves of +the capitalists, of the masters," the courts were called, and Janet +subscribed to these epithets, beheld the judges as willing agents of a +tyranny from which she, too, had suffered. There arrived at Headquarters +frenzied bearers of rumours such as that of the reported intention of +landlords to remove the windows from the tenements if the rents were not +paid. Antonelli himself calmed these. "Let the landlords try it!" he +said phlegmatically.... + +After a while, as the deadlock showed no signs of breaking, the siege of +privation began to tell, ominous signs of discontent became apparent. +Chief among the waverers were those who had come to America with visions +of a fortune, who had practised a repulsive thrift in order to acquire +real estate, who carried in their pockets dog-eared bank books recording +payments already made. These had consented to the strike reluctantly, +through fear, or had been carried away by the eloquence and enthusiasm of +the leaders, by the expectation that the mill owners would yield at once. +Some went back to work, only to be "seen" by the militant, watchful +pickets--generally in their rooms, at night. One evening, as Janet was +walking home, she chanced to overhear a conversation taking place in the +dark vestibule of a tenement. + +"Working to-day?" + +"Yah." + +"Work to-morrow?" + +Hesitation. "I d'no." + +"You work, I cut your throat." A significant noise. "Naw, I no work." + +"Shake!" + +She hurried on trembling, not with fear, but exultingly. Nor did she +reflect that only a month ago such an occurrence would have shocked and +terrified her. This was war.... On her way to Fillmore Street she +passed, at every street corner in this district, a pacing sentry, muffled +in greatcoat and woollen cap, alert and watchful, the ugly knife on the +end of his gun gleaming in the blue light of the arc. It did not occur +to her, despite the uniform, that the souls of many of these men were +divided also, that their voices and actions, when she saw them +threatening with their bayonets, were often inspired by that inner +desperation characteristic of men who find themselves unexpectedly in +false situations. Once she heard a woman shriek as the sharp knife +grazed her skirt: at another time a man whose steps had been considerably +hurried turned, at a safe distance, and shouted defiantly: + +"Say, who are you working for? Me or the Wool Trust?" + +"Aw, get along," retorted the soldier, "or I'll give you yours." + +The man caught sight of Janet's button as she overtook him. He was +walking backward. + +"That feller has a job in a machine shop over in Barrington, I seen him +there when I was in the mills. And here he is tryin' to put us out-- +ain't that the limit?" + +The thud of horses' feet in the snow prevented her reply. The +silhouettes of the approaching squad of cavalry were seen down the +street, and the man fled precipitately into an alleyway.... + +There were ludicrous incidents, too, though never lacking in a certain +pathos. The wife of a Russian striker had her husband arrested because +he had burned her clothes in order to prevent her returning to the mill. +From the police station he sent a compatriot with a message to +Headquarters. "Oye, he fix her! She no get her jawb now--she gotta stay +in bed!" this one cried triumphantly. + +"She was like to tear me in pieces when I brought her the clothes," said +Anna Mower, who related her experience with mingled feelings. "I +couldn't blame her. You see, it was the kids crying with cold and +starvation, and she got so she just couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand +it, neither." + +Day by day the element who wished to compromise and end the strike grew +stronger, brought more and more pressure on the leaders. These people +were subsidized, Antonelli declared, by the capitalists.... + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A more serious atmosphere pervaded Headquarters, where it was realized +that the issue hung in the balance. And more proclamations, a la +Napoleon, were issued to sustain and hearten those who were finding bread +and onions meagre fare, to shame the hesitating, the wavering. As has +been said, it was Rolfe who, because of his popular literary gift, +composed these appeals for the consideration of the Committee, dictating +them to Janet as he paced up and down the bibliotheque, inhaling +innumerable cigarettes and flinging down the ends on the floor. A famous +one was headed "Shall Wool and Cotton Kings Rule the Nation?" "We are +winning" it declared. "The World is with us! Forced by the unshaken +solidarity of tens of thousands, the manufacturers offer bribes to end +the reign of terror they have inaugurated.... Inhuman treatment and +oppressive toil have brought all nationalities together into one great +army to fight against a brutal system of exploitation. In years and +years of excessive labour we have produced millions for a class of idle +parasites, who enjoy all the luxuries of life while our wives have to +leave their firesides and our children their schools to eke out a +miserable existence." And this for the militia: "The lowest aim of life +is to be a soldier! The `good' soldier never tries to distinguish right +from wrong, he never thinks, he never reasons, he only obeys--" + +"But," Janet was tempted to say, "your syndicalism declares that none of +us should think or reason. We should only feel." She was beginning to +detect Rolfe's inconsistencies, yet she refrained from interrupting the +inspirational flow. + +"The soldier is a blind, heartless, soulless, murderous machine." Rolfe +was fond of adjectives. "All that is human in him, all that is divine +has been sworn away when he took the enlistment oath. No man can fall +lower than a soldier. It is a depth beyond which we cannot go." + +"All that is human, all that is divine," wrote Janet, and thrilled a +little at the words. Why was it that mere words, and their arrangement +in certain sequences, gave one a delicious, creepy feeling up and down +the spine? Her attitude toward him had become more and more critical, +she had avoided him when she could, but when he was in this ecstatic mood +she responded, forgot his red lips, his contradictions, lost herself in a +medium she did not comprehend. Perhaps it was because, in his absorption +in the task, he forgot her, forgot himself. She, too, despised the +soldiers, fervently believed they had sold themselves to the oppressors +of mankind. And Rolfe, when in the throes of creation, had the manner of +speaking to the soldiers themselves, as though these were present in the +lane just below the window; as though he were on the tribune. At such +times he spoke with such rapidity that, quick though she was, she could +scarcely keep up with him. "Most of you, Soldiers, are workingmen!" he +cried. "Yesterday you were slaving in the mills yourselves. You will +profit by our victory. Why should you wish to crush us? Be human!" + +Pale, excited, he sank down into the chair by her side and lit another +cigarette. + +"They ought to listen to that!" he exclaimed. "It's the best one I've +done yet." + +Night had come. Czernowitz sat in the other room, talking to Jastro, a +buzz of voices came from the hall through the thin pine panels of the +door. All day long a sixty-mile gale had twisted the snow of the lane +into whirling, fantastic columns and rattled the windows of Franco- +Belgian Hall. But now the wind had fallen.... Presently, as his self- +made music ceased to vibrate within him, Rolfe began to watch the girl as +she sat motionless, with parted lips and eyes alight, staring at the +reflection of the lamp in the blue-black window. + +"Is that the end?" she asked, at length. + +"Yes," he replied sensitively. "Can't you see it's a climax? Don't you +think it's a good one?" + +She looked at him, puzzled. + +"Why, yes," she said, "I think it's fine. You see, I have to take it +down so fast I can't always follow it as I'd like to." + +"When you feel, you can do anything," he exclaimed. "It is necessary to +feel." + +"It is necessary to know," she told him. + +"I do not understand you," he cried, leaning toward her. "Sometimes you +are a flame--a wonderful, scarlet flame I can express it in no other way. +Or again, you are like the Madonna of our new faith, and I wish I were a +del Sarto to paint you. And then again you seem as cold as your New +England snow, you have no feeling, you are an Anglo-Saxon--a Puritan." + +She smiled, though she felt a pang of reminiscence at the word. Ditmar +had called her so, too. + +"I can't help what I am," she said. + +"It is that which inhibits you," he declared. "That Puritanism. It must +be eradicated before you can develop, and then--and then you will be +completely wonderful. When this strike is over, when we have time, I +will teach you many things--develop you. We will read Sorel together he +is beautiful, like poetry--and the great poets, Dante and Petrarch and +Tasso--yes, and d'Annunzio. We shall live." + +"We are living, now," she answered. The look with which she surveyed him +he found enigmatic. And then, abruptly, she rose and went to her +typewriter. + +"You don't believe what I say!" he reproached her. + +But she was cool. "I'm not sure that I believe all of it. I want to +think it out for myself--to talk to others, too." + +"What others?" + +"Nobody in particular--everybody," she replied, as she set her notebook +on the rack. + +"There is some one else!" he exclaimed, rising. + +"There is every one else," she said. + +As was his habit when agitated, he began to smoke feverishly, glancing at +her from time to time as she fingered the keys. Experience had led him +to believe that he who finds a woman in revolt and gives her a religion +inevitably becomes her possessor. But more than a month had passed, he +had not become her possessor--and now for the first time there entered +his mind a doubt as to having given her a religion! The obvious +inference was that of another man, of another influence in opposition to +his own; characteristically, however, he shrank from accepting this, +since he was of those who believe what they wish to believe. The sudden +fear of losing her--intruding itself immediately upon an ecstatic, +creative mood--unnerved him, yet he strove to appear confident as he +stood over her. + +"When you've finished typewriting that, we'll go out to supper," he told +her. + +But she shook her head. + +"Why not?" + +"I don't want to," she replied--and then, to soften her refusal, she +added, "I can't, to-night." + +"But you never will come with me anymore. Why is it?" + +"I'm very tired at night. I don't feel like going out." She sought to +temporize. + +"You've changed!" he accused her. "You're not the same as you were at +first--you avoid me." + +The swift gesture with which she flung over the carriage of her machine +might have warned him. + +"I don't like that Hampton Hotel," she flashed back. "I'm--I'm not a +vagabond--yet." + +"A vagabond!" he repeated. + +She went on savagely with her work.. + +"You have two natures," he exclaimed. "You are still a bourgeoise, a +Puritan. You will not be yourself, you will not be free until you get +over that." + +"I'm not sure I want to get over it." + +He leaned nearer to her. + +"But now that I have found you, Janet, I will not let you go." + +"You've no rights over me," she cried, in sudden alarm and anger. "I'm +not doing this work, I'm not wearing myself out here for you." + +"Then--why are you doing it?" His suspicions rose again, and made him +reckless. + +"To help the strikers," she said.... He could get no more out of her, +and presently, when Anna Mower entered the room, he left it.... + +More than once since her first visit to the soup kitchen in Dey Street +Janet had returned to it. The universe rocked, but here was equilibrium. +The streets were filled with soldiers, with marching strikers, terrible +things were constantly happening; the tension at Headquarters never +seemed to relax. Out in the world and within her own soul were strife +and suffering, and sometimes fear; the work in which she sought to lose +herself no longer sufficed to keep her from thinking, and the spectacle-- +when she returned home--of her mother's increasing apathy grew more and +more appalling. But in Dey Street she gained calmness, was able to renew +something of that sense of proportion the lack of which, in the chaos in +which she was engulfed, often brought her to the verge of madness. At +first she had had a certain hesitation about going back, and on the +occasion of her second visit had walked twice around the block before +venturing to enter. She had no claim on this man. He was merely a +chance acquaintance, a stranger--and yet he seemed nearer to her, to +understand her better than any one else she knew in the world. This was +queer, because she had not explained herself; nor had he asked her for +any confidences. She would have liked to confide in him--some things: he +gave her the impression of comprehending life; of having, as his +specialty, humanity itself; he should, she reflected, have been a +minister, and smiled at the thought: ministers, at any rate, ought to be +like him, and then one might embrace Christianity--the religion of her +forefathers that Rolfe ridiculed. But there was about Insall nothing of +religion as she had grown up to apprehend the term. + +Now that she had taken her courage in her hands and renewed her visits, +they seemed to be the most natural proceedings in the world. On that +second occasion, when she had opened the door and palpitatingly climbed +to the loft, the second batch of children were finishing their midday +meal,--rather more joyously, she thought, than before,--and Insall +himself was stooping over a small boy whom he had taken away from the +table. He did not notice her at once, and Janet watched them. The child +had a cough, his extreme thinness was emphasized by the coat he wore, +several sizes too large for him. + +"Yon come along with me, Marcus, I guess I can fit you out," Insall was +saying, when he looked up and saw Janet. + +"Why, if it isn't Miss Bumpus! I thought you'd forgotten us." + +"Oh no," she protested. "I wanted to come." + +"Then why didn't you?" + +"Well, I have come," she said, with a little sigh, and he did not press +her further. And she refrained from offering any conventional excuse, +such as that of being interested in the children. She had come to see +him, and such was the faith with which he inspired her--now that she was +once more in his presence--that she made no attempt to hide the fact. + +"You've never seen my clothing store, have you?" he asked. And with the +child's hand in his he led the way into a room at the rear of the loft. +A kit of carpenter's tools was on the floor, and one wall was lined with +box-like compartments made of new wood, each with its label in neat +lettering indicating the articles contained therein. "Shoes?" he +repeated, as he ran his eye down the labels and suddenly opened a drawer. +"Here we are, Marcus. Sit down there on the bench, and take off the +shoes you have on." + +The boy had one of those long faces of the higher Jewish type, +intelligent, wistful. He seemed dazed by Insall's kindness. The shoes +he wore were those of an adult, but cracked and split, revealing the +cotton stocking and here and there the skin. His little blue hands +fumbled with the knotted strings that served for facings until Insall, +producing a pocket knife, deftly cut the strings. + +"Those are summer shoes, Marcus--well ventilated." + +"They're by me since August," said the boy. + +"And now the stockings," prompted Insall. The old ones, wet, +discoloured, and torn, were stripped off, and thick, woollen ones +substituted. Insall, casting his eye over the open drawer, chose a pair +of shoes that had been worn, but which were stout and serviceable, and +taking one in his hand knelt down before the child. "Let's see how good +a guesser I am," he said, loosening the strings and turning back the +tongue, imitating good-humouredly the deferential manner of a salesman of +footwear as he slipped on the shoe. "Why, it fits as if it were made for +you! Now for the other one. Yes, your feet are mates--I know a man who +wears a whole size larger on his left foot." The dazed expression +remained on the boy's face. The experience was beyond him. "That's +better," said Insall, as he finished the lacing. "Keep out of the snow, +Marcus, all you can. Wet feet aren't good for a cough, you know. And +when you come in to supper a nice doctor will be here, and we'll see if +we can't get rid of the cough." + +The boy nodded. He got to his feet, stared down at the shoes, and walked +slowly toward the door, where he turned. + +"Thank you, Mister Insall," he said. + +And Insall, still sitting on his heels, waved his hand. + +"It is not to mention it," he replied. "Perhaps you may have a clothing +store of your own some day--who knows!" He looked up at Janet amusedly +and then, with a spring, stood upright, his easy, unconscious pose +betokening command of soul and body. "I ought to have kept a store," he +observed. "I missed my vocation." + +"It seems to me that you missed a great many vocations," she replied. +Commonplaces alone seemed possible, adequate. "I suppose you made all +those drawers yourself." + +He bowed in acknowledgment of her implied tribute. With his fine nose +and keen eyes--set at a slightly downward angle, creased at the corners-- +with his thick, greying hair, despite his comparative youth he had the +look one associates with portraits of earlier, patriarchal Americans.... +These calls of Janet's were never of long duration. She had fallen into +the habit of taking her lunch between one and two, and usually arrived +when the last installment of youngsters were finishing their meal; +sometimes they were filing out, stopping to form a group around Insall, +who always managed to say something amusing--something pertinent and +good-naturedly personal. For he knew most of them by name, and had +acquired a knowledge of certain individual propensities and +idiosyncrasies that delighted their companions. + +"What's the trouble, Stepan--swallowed your spoon?" Stepan was known to +be greedy. Or he would suddenly seize an unusually solemn boy from +behind and tickle him until the child screamed with laughter. It was, +indeed, something of an achievement to get on terms of confidence with +these alien children of the tenements and the streets who from their +earliest years had been forced to shift for themselves, and many of whom +had acquired a precocious suspicion of Greeks bearing gifts. Insall +himself had used the phrase, and explained it to Janet. That sense of +caveat donor was perhaps their most pathetic characteristic. But he +broke it down; broke down, too, the shyness accompanying it, the shyness +and solemnity emphasized in them by contact with hardship and poverty, +with the stark side of life they faced at home. He had made them--Mrs. +Maturin once illuminatingly remarked--more like children. Sometimes he +went to see their parents,--as in the case of Marcus--to suggest certain +hygienic precautions in his humorous way; and his accounts of these +visits, too, were always humorous. Yet through that humour ran a strain +of pathos that clutched--despite her smile--at Janet's heartstrings. +This gift of emphasizing and heightening tragedy while apparently dealing +in comedy she never ceased to wonder at. She, too, knew that tragedy of +the tenements, of the poor, its sordidness and cruelty. All her days she +had lived precariously near it, and lately she had visited these people, +had been torn by the sight of what they endured. But Insall's jokes, +while they stripped it of sentimentality of which she had an instinctive +dislike--made it for her even more poignant. One would have thought, to +have such an insight into it, that he too must have lived it, must have +been brought up in some dirty alley of a street. That gift, of course, +must be a writer's gift. + +When she saw the waifs trooping after him down the stairs, Mrs. Maturin +called him the Pied Piper of Hampton. + +As time went on, Janet sometimes wondered over the quiet manner in which +these two people, Insall and Mrs. Maturin, took her visits as though they +were matters of course, and gave her their friendship. There was, +really, no obvious excuse for her coming, not even that of the waifs for +food--and yet she came to be fed. The sustenance they gave her would +have been hard to define; it flowed not so much from what they said, as +from what they were; it was in the atmosphere surrounding them. +Sometimes she looked at Mrs. Maturin to ask herself what this lady would +say if she knew her history, her relationship with Ditmar--which had been +her real reason for entering the ranks of the strikers. And was it fair +for her, Janet, to permit Mrs. Maturin to bestow her friendship without +revealing this? She could not make up her mind as to what this lady +would say. Janet had had no difficulty in placing Ditmar; not much +trouble, after her first surprise was over, in classifying Rolfe and the +itinerant band of syndiealists who had descended upon her restricted +world. But Insall and Mrs. Maturin were not to be ticketed. What +chiefly surprised her, in addition to their kindliness, to their taking +her on faith without the formality of any recommendation or introduction, +was their lack of intellectual narrowness. She did not, of course, so +express it. But she sensed, in their presence, from references casually +let fall in their conversation, a wider culture of which they were in +possession, a culture at once puzzling and exciting, one that she +despaired of acquiring for herself. Though it came from reading, it did +not seem "literary," according to the notion she had conceived of the +term. Her speculations concerning it must be focussed and interpreted. +It was a culture, in the first place, not harnessed to an obvious Cause: +something like that struck her. It was a culture that contained +tolerance and charity, that did not label a portion of mankind as its +enemy, but seemed, by understanding all, to forgive all. It had no +prejudices; nor did it boast, as the Syndicalists boasted, of its absence +of convention. And little by little Janet connected it with Silliston. + +"It must be wonderful to live in such a place as that," she exclaimed, +when the Academy was mentioned. On this occasion Insall had left for a +moment, and she was in the little room he called his "store," alone with +Mrs. Maturin, helping to sort out a batch of garments just received. + +"It was there you first met Brooks, wasn't it?" She always spoke of him +as Brooks. "He told me about it, how you walked out there and asked him +about a place to lunch." Mrs. Maturin laughed. "You didn't know what to +make of him, did you?" + +"I thought he was a carpenter!" said Janet. "I--I never should have +taken him for an author. But of course I don't know any other authors." + +"Well, he's not like any of them, he's just like himself. You can't put +a tag on people who are really big." + +Janet considered this. "I never thought of that. I suppose not," she +agreed. + +Mrs. Maturin glanced at her. "So you liked Sflliston," she said. + +"I liked it better than any place I ever saw. I haven't seen many +places, but I'm sure that few can be nicer." + +"What did you like about it, Janet?" Mrs. Maturin was interested. + +"It's hard to say," Janet replied, after a moment. "It gave me such a +feeling of peace--of having come home, although I lived in Hampton. I +can't express it." + +"I think you're expressing it rather well," said Mrs. Maturin. + +"It was so beautiful in the spring," Janet continued, dropping the coat +she held into the drawer. "And it wasn't just the trees and the grass +with the yellow dandelions, it was the houses, too--I've often wondered +why those houses pleased me so much. I wanted to live in every one of +them. Do you know that feeling?" Mrs. Maturin nodded. "They didn't +hurt your eyes when you looked at them, and they seemed to be so much at +home there, even the new ones. The new ones were like the children of +the old." + +"I'll tell the architect. He'll be pleased," said Mrs. Maturin. + +Janet flushed. + +"Am I being silly?" she asked. + +"No; my dear," Mrs. Maturin replied. "You've expressed what I feel about +Silliston. What do you intend to do when the strike is over?" + +"I hadn't thought." Janet started at the question, but Mrs. Maturin did +not seem to notice the dismay in her tone. "You don't intend to--to +travel around with the I. W. W. people, do you?" + +"I--I hadn't thought," Janet faltered. It was the first time Mrs. +Maturin had spoken of her connection with Syndicalism. And she surprised +herself by adding: "I don't see how I could. They can get stenographers +anywhere, and that's all I'm good for." And the question occurred to +her--did she really wish to? + +"What I was going to suggest," continued Mrs. Maturin, quietly, "was that +you might try Silliston. There's a chance for a good stenographer there, +and I'm sure you are a good one. So many of the professors send to +Boston." + +Janet stood stock still. Then she said: "But you don't know anything +about me, Mrs. Maturin." + +Kindliness burned in the lady's eyes as she replied: "I know more now-- +since you've told me I know nothing. Of course there's much I don't +know, how you, a stenographer, became involved in this strike and joined +the I. W. W. But you shall tell me or not, as you wish, when we become +better friends." + +Janet felt the blood beating in her throat, and an impulse to confess +everything almost mastered her. From the first she had felt drawn toward +Mrs. Maturin, who seemed to hold out to her the promise of a woman's +friendship--for which she had felt a life-long need: a woman friend who +would understand the insatiate yearning in her that gave her no rest in +her search for a glittering essence never found, that had led her only to +new depths of bitterness and despair. It would destroy her, if indeed it +had not already done so. Mrs. Maturin, Insall, seemed to possess the +secret that would bring her peace--and yet, in spite of something urging +her to speak, she feared the risk of losing them. Perhaps, after all, +they would not understand! perhaps it was too late! + +"You do not believe in the Industrial Workers of the World," was what she +said. + +Mrs. Maturin herself, who had been moved and excited as she gazed at +Janet, was taken by surprise. A few moments elapsed before she could +gather herself to reply, and then she managed to smile. + +"I do not believe that wisdom will die with them, my dear. Their--their +doctrine is too simple, it does not seem as if life, the social order is +to be so easily solved." + +"But you must sympathize with them, with the strikers." Janet's gesture +implied that the soup kitchen was proof of this. + +"Ah," replied Mrs. Maturin, gently, "that is different to understand +them. There is one philosophy for the lamb, and another for the wolf." + +"You mean," said Janet, trembling, "that what happens to us makes us +inclined to believe certain things?" + +"Precisely," agreed Mrs. Maturin, in admiration. "But I must be honest +with you, it was Brooks who made me see it." + +"But--he never said that to me. And I asked him once, almost the same +question." + +"He never said it to me, either," Mrs. Maturin confessed. "He doesn't +tell you what he believes; I simply gathered that this is his idea. And +apparently the workers can only improve their condition by strikes, by +suffering--it seems to be the only manner in which they can convince the +employers that the conditions are bad. It isn't the employers' fault." + +"Not their fault!" Janet repeated. + +"Not in a large sense," said Mrs. Maturin. "When people grow up to look +at life in a certain way, from a certain viewpoint, it is difficult, +almost impossible to change them. It's--it's their religion. They are +convinced that if the world doesn't go on in their way, according to +their principles, everything will be destroyed. They aren't inhuman. +Within limits everybody is more than willing to help the world along, if +only they can be convinced that what they are asked to do will help." + +Janet breathed deeply. She was thinking of Ditmar. + +And Mrs. Maturin, regarding her, tactfully changed the subject. + +"I didn't intend to give you a lecture on sociology or psychology, my +dear," she said. "I know nothing about them, although we have a +professor who does. Think over what I've said about coming to Silliston. +It will do you good--you are working too hard here. I know you would +enjoy Silliston. And Brooks takes such an interest in you," she added +impulsively. "It is quite a compliment." + +"But why?" Janet demanded, bewildered. + +"Perhaps it's because you have--possibilities. You may be typewriting +his manuscripts. And then, I am a widow, and often rather lonely--you +could come in and read to me occasionally." + +"But--I've never read anything." + +"How fortunate!" said Insall, who had entered the doorway in time to hear +Janet's exclamation. "More than half of modern culture depends on what +one shouldn't read." + +Mrs. Maturin laughed. But Insall waved his hand deprecatingly. + +"That isn't my own," he confessed. "I cribbed it from a clever +Englishman. But I believe it's true." + +"I think I'll adopt her," said Mrs. Maturin to Insall, when she had +repeated to him the conversation. "I know you are always convicting me +of enthusiasms, Brooks, and I suppose I do get enthusiastic." + +"Well, you adopt her--and I'll marry her," replied Insall, with a smile, +as he cut the string from the last bundle of clothing. + +"You might do worse. It would be a joke if you did--!" + +His friend paused to consider this preposterous possibility. "One never +can tell whom a man like you, an artist, will marry." + +"We've no business to marry at all," said Insall, laughing. "I often +wonder where that romantic streak will land you, Augusta. But you do +have a delightful time!" + +"Don't begrudge it me, it makes life so much more interesting," Mrs. +Maturin begged, returning his smile. "I haven't the faintest idea that +you will marry her or any one else. But I insist on saying she's your +type--she's the kind of a person artists do dig up and marry--only better +than most of them, far better." + +"Dig up?" said Insall. + +"Well, you know I'm not a snob--I only mean that she seems to be one of +the surprising anomalies that sometimes occur in--what shall I say?--in +the working-classes. I do feel like a snob when I say that. But what is +it? Where does that spark come from? Is it in our modern air, that +discontent, that desire, that thrusting forth toward a new light-- +something as yet unformulated, but which we all feel, even at small +institutions of learning like Silliston?" + +"Now you're getting beyond me." + +"Oh no, I'm not," Mrs. Maturin retorted confidently. "If you won't talk +about it, I will, I have no shame. And this girl has it--this thing I'm +trying to express. She's modern to her finger tips, and yet she's +extraordinarily American--in spite of her modernity, she embodies in some +queer way our tradition. She loves our old houses at Silliston--they +make her feel at home--that's her own expression." + +"Did she say that?" + +"Exactly. And I know she's of New England ancestry, she told me so. +What I can't make out is, why she joined the I.W.W. That seems so +contradictory." + +"Perhaps she was searching for light there," Insall hazarded. "Why don't +you ask her?" + +"I don't know," replied Mrs. Maturin, thoughtfully. "I want to, my +curiosity almost burns me alive, and yet I don't. She isn't the kind you +can ask personal questions of--that's part of her charm, part of her +individuality. One is a little afraid to intrude. And yet she keeps +coming here--of course you are a sufficient attraction, Brooks. But I +must give her the credit of not flirting with you." + +"I've noticed that, too," said Insall, comically. + +"She's searching for light," Mrs. Maturin went on, struck by the phrase. +"She has an instinct we can give it to her, because we come from an +institution of learning. I felt something of the kind when I suggested +her establishing herself in Silliston. Well, she's more than worth while +experimenting on, she must have lived and breathed what you call the +`movie atmosphere' all her life, and yet she never seems to have read and +absorbed any sentimental literature or cheap religion. She doesn't +suggest the tawdry. That part of her, the intellectual part, is a clear +page to be written upon." + +"There's my chance," said Insall. + +"No, it's my chance--since you're so cynical." + +"I'm not cynical," he protested. + +"I don't believe you really are. And if you are, there may be a judgment +upon you," she added playfully. "I tell you she's the kind of woman +artists go mad about. She has what sentimentalists call temperament, and +after all we haven't any better word to express dynamic desires. She'd +keep you stirred up, stimulated, and you could educate her." + +"No, thanks, I'll leave that to you. He who educates a woman is lost. +But how about Syndicalism and all the mysticism that goes with it? +There's an intellectual over at Headquarters who's been talking to her +about Bergson, the life-force, and the World-We-Ourselves-Create." + +Mrs. Maturin laughed. + +"Well, we go wrong when we don't go right. That's just it, we must go +some way. And I'm sure, from what I gather, that she isn't wholly +satisfied with Syndicalism." + +"What is right?" demanded Insall. + +"Oh, I don't intend to turn her over to Mr. Worrall and make a +sociologist and a militant suffragette out of her. She isn't that kind, +anyhow. But I could give her good literature to read--yours, for +instance," she added maliciously. + +"You're preposterous, Augusta," Insall exclaimed. + +"I may be, but you've got to indulge me. I've taken this fancy to her-- +of course I mean to see more of her. But--you know how hard it is for +me, sometimes, since I've been left alone." + +Insall laid his hand affectionately on her shoulder. + +"I remember what you said the first day I saw her, that the strike was in +her," Mrs. Maturin continued. "Well, I see now that she does express and +typify it--and I don't mean the `labour movement' alone, or this strike +in Rampton, which is symptomatic, but crude. I mean something bigger-- +and I suppose you do--the protest, the revolt, the struggle for self- +realization that is beginning to be felt all over the nation, all over +the world today, that is not yet focussed and self-conscious, but groping +its way, clothing itself in any philosophy that seems to fit it. I can +imagine myself how such a strike as this might appeal to a girl with a +sense of rebellion against sordidness and lack of opportunity--especially +if she has had a tragic experience. And sometimes I suspect she has had +one." + +"Well, it's an interesting theory," Insall admitted indulgently. + +"I'm merely amplifying your suggestions, only. you won't admit that they +are yours. And she was your protegee." "And you are going to take her +off my hands." "I'm not so sure," said Mrs. Maturin. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +The Hampton strike had reached the state of grim deadlock characteristic +of all stubborn wars. There were aggressions, retaliations on both +sides, the antagonism grew more intense. The older labour unions were +accused by the strikers of playing the employers' game, and thus grew to +be hated even more than the "capitalists." These organizations of the +skilled had entered but half-heartedly into a struggle that now began to +threaten, indeed, their very existence, and when it was charged that the +Textile Workers had been attempting to secure recruits from the ranks of +the strikers, and had secretly offered the millowners a scale of demands +in the hope that a sufficient number of operatives would return to work, +and so break the strike; a serious riot was barely averted. "Scab-huntmg +agencies," the unions were called. One morning when it was learned that +the loom-fixers, almost to a man, had gone back to the mills, a streetcar +was stopped near the power house at the end of Faber Street, and in a +twinkling, before the militia or police could interfere, motorman, +conductor, and passengers were dragged from it and the trolley pole +removed. This and a number of similar aggressive acts aroused the mill- +owners and their agents to appeal with renewed vigour to the public +through the newspapers, which it was claimed they owned or subsidized. +Then followed a series of arraignments of the strike leaders calculated +to stir the wildest prejudices and fears of the citizens of Hampton. +Antonelli and Jastro--so rumour had it--in various nightly speeches had +advised their followers to "sleep in the daytime and prowl like wild +animals at night"; urged the power house employees to desert and leave +the city in darkness; made the declaration, "We will win if we raise +scaffolds on every street!" insisted that the strikers, too, should have +"gun permits," since the police hirelings carried arms. And the fact +that the mill-owners replied with pamphlets whose object was proclaimed +to be one of discrediting their leaders in the eyes of the public still +further infuriated the strikers. Such charges, of course, had to be +vehemently refuted, the motives behind them made clear, and counter- +accusations laid at the door of the mill-owners. + +The atmosphere at Headquarters daily grew more tense. At any moment the +spark might be supplied to precipitate an explosion that would shake the +earth. The hungry, made more desperate by their own sufferings or the +spectacle of starving families, were increasingly difficult to control: +many wished to return to work, others clamoured for violence, nor were +these wholly discouraged by a portion of the leaders. A riot seemed +imminent--a riot Antonelli feared and firmly opposed, since it would +alienate the sympathy of that wider public in the country on which the +success of the strike depended. Watchful, yet apparently unconcerned, +unmoved by the quarrels, the fierce demands for "action," he sat on the +little stage, smoking his cigars and reading his newspapers. + +Janet's nerves were taut. There had been times during the past weeks +when she had been aware of new and vaguely disquieting portents. +Inexperience had led her to belittle them, and the absorbing nature of +her work, the excitement due to the strange life of conflict, of new +ideas, into which she had so unreservedly flung herself, the resentment +that galvanized her--all these had diverted her from worry. At night, +hers had been the oblivious slumber of the weary.... And then, as a +desperate wayfarer, pressing on, feels a heavy drop of rain and glances +up to perceive the clouds that have long been gathering, she awoke in the +black morning hours, and fear descended upon her. Suddenly her brain +became hideously active as she lay, dry-upped, staring into the darkness, +striving to convince herself that it could not be. But the thing had its +advocate, also, to summon ingeniously, in cumulative array, those omens +she had ignored: to cause her to piece together, in this moment of +torture, portions of the knowledge of sexual facts that prudery banishes +from education, a smattering of which reaches the ears of such young +women as Janet in devious, roundabout ways. Several times, in the month +just past, she had had unwonted attacks of dizziness, of faintness, and +on one occasion Anna Mower, alarmed, had opened the window of the +bibliotheque and thrust her into the cold air. Now, with a pang of fear +she recalled what Anna had said:-- + +"You're working too hard--you hadn't ought to stay here nights. If it +was some girls I've met, I'd know what to think." + +Strange that the significance of this sentence had failed to penetrate +her consciousness until now! "If it was some girls I've met, I'd know +what to think!" It had come into her mind abruptly; and always, when she +sought to reassure herself, to declare her terror absurd, it returned to +confront her. Heat waves pulsed through her, she grew intolerably warm, +perspiration started from her pores, and she flung off the blankets. The +rain from the roofs was splashing on the bricks of the passage.... What +would Mr. Insall say, if he knew? and Mrs. Maturin? She could never see +them again. Now there was no one to whom to turn, she was cut off, +utterly, from humanity, an outcast. Like Lise! And only a little while +ago she and Lise had lain in that bed together! Was there not somebody +--God? Other people believed in God, prayed to him. She tried to say, +"Oh God, deliver me from this thing!" but the words seemed a mockery. +After all, it was mechanical, it had either happened or it hadn't +happened. A life-long experience in an environment where only unpleasant +things occurred, where miracles were unknown, had effaced a fleeting, +childhood belief in miracles. Cause and effect were the rule. And if +there were a God who did interfere, why hadn't he interfered before this +thing happened? Then would have been the logical time. Why hadn't he +informed her that in attempting to escape from the treadmill in which he +had placed her, in seeking happiness, she had been courting destruction? +Why had he destroyed Lise? And if there were a God, would he comfort her +now, convey to her some message of his sympathy and love? No such +message, alas, seemed to come to her through the darkness. + +After a while--a seemingly interminable while--the siren shrieked, the +bells jangled loudly in the wet air, another day had come. Could she +face it--even the murky grey light of this that revealed the ashes and +litter of the back yard under the downpour? The act of dressing brought +a slight relief; and then, at breakfast, a numbness stole over her-- +suggested and conveyed, perchance, by the apathy of her mother. +Something had killed suffering in Hannah; perhaps she herself would +mercifully lose the power to suffer! But the thought made her shudder. +She could not, like her mother, find a silly refuge in shining dishes, in +cleaning pots and pans, or sit idle, vacant-minded, for long hours in a +spotless kitchen. What would happen to her?... Howbeit, the ache that +had tortured her became a dull, leaden pain, like that she had known at +another time--how long ago--when the suffering caused by Ditmar's +deception had dulled, when she had sat in the train on her way back to +Hampton from Boston, after seeing Lise. The pain would throb again, +unsupportably, and she would wake, and this time it would drive her--she +knew not where. + +She was certain, now, that the presage of the night was true.... + +She reached Franco-Belgian Hall to find it in an uproar. Anna Mower ran +up to her with the news that dynamite had been discovered by the police +in certain tenements of the Syrian quarter, that the tenants had been +arrested and taken to the police station where, bewildered and terrified, +they had denied any knowledge of the explosive. Dynamite had also been +found under the power house, and in the mills--the sources of Hampton's +prosperity. And Hampton believed, of course, that this was the +inevitable result of the anarchistic preaching of such enemies of society +as Jastro and Antonelli if these, indeed, had not incited the Syrians to +the deed. But it was a plot of the mill-owners, Anna insisted--they +themselves had planted the explosive, adroitly started the rumours, told +the police where the dynamite was to be found. Such was the view that +prevailed at Headquarters, pervaded the angrily buzzing crowd that stood +outside--heedless of the rain--and animated the stormy conferences in the +Salle de Reunion. + +The day wore on. In the middle of the afternoon, as she was staring out +of the window, Anna Mower returned with more news. Dynamite had been +discovered in Hawthorne Street, and it was rumoured that Antonelli and +Jastro were to be arrested. + +"You ought to go home and rest, Janet," she said kindly. + +Janet shook her head. + +"Rolfe's back," Anna informed her, after a moment. "He's talking to +Antonelli about another proclamation to let people know who's to blame +for this dynamite business. I guess he'll be in here in a minute to +dictate the draft. Say, hadn't you better let Minnie take it, and go +home?" + +"I'm not sick," Janet repeated, and Anna reluctantly left her. + +Rolfe had been absent for a week, in New York, consulting with some of +the I.W.W. leaders; with Lockhart, the chief protagonist of Syndicalism +in America, just returned from Colorado, to whom he had given a detailed +account of the Hampton strike. And Lockhart, next week, was coming to +Hampton to make a great speech and look over the ground for himself. All +this Rolfe told Janet eagerly when he entered the bibliotheque. He was +glad to get back; he had missed her. + +"But you are pale!" he exclaimed, as he seized her hand, "and how your +eyes burn! You do not take care of yourself when I am not here to watch +you." His air of solicitude, his assumption of a peculiar right to ask, +might formerly have troubled and offended her. Now she was scarcely +aware of his presence. "You feel too much--that is it you are like a +torch that consumes itself in burning. But this will soon be over, we +shall have them on their knees, the capitalists, before very long, when +it is known what they have done to-day. It is too much--they have +overreached themselves with this plot of the dynamite." + +"You have missed me, a little?" + +"I have been busy," she said, releasing her hand and sitting down at her +desk and taking up her notebook. + +"You are not well," he insisted. + +"I'm all right," she replied. + +He lit a cigarette and began to pace the room--his customary manner of +preparing himself for the creative mood. After a while he began to +dictate--but haltingly. He had come here from Antonelli all primed with +fervour and indignation, but it was evident that this feeling had ebbed, +that his mind refused to concentrate on what he was saying. Despite the +magnificent opportunity to flay the capitalists which their most recent +tactics afforded him, he paused, repeated himself, and began again, +glancing from time to time reproachfully, almost resentfully at Janet. +Usually, on these occasions, he was transported, almost inebriated by his +own eloquence; but now he chafed at her listlessness, he was at a loss to +account for the withdrawal of the enthusiasm he had formerly been able to +arouse. Lacking the feminine stimulus, his genius limped. For Rolfe +there had been a woman in every strike--sometimes two. What had +happened, during his absence, to alienate the most promising of all +neophytes he had ever encountered? + +"The eyes of the world are fixed on the workers of Hampton! They must be +true to the trust their fellows have placed in them! To-day the mill- +owners, the masters, are at the end of their tether. Always +unscrupulous, they have descended to the most despicable of tactics in +order to deceive the public. But truth will prevail!..." Rolfe lit +another cigarette, began a new sentence and broke it off. Suddenly he +stood over her. "It's you!" he said. "You don't feel it, you don't help +me, you're not in sympathy." + +He bent over her, his red lips gleaming through his beard, a terrible +hunger in his lustrous eyes--the eyes of a soul to which self-denial was +unknown. His voice was thick with uncontrolled passion, his hand was +cold. + +"Janet, what has happened? I love you, you must love me--I cannot +believe that you do not. Come with me. We shall work together for the +workers--it is all nothing without you." + +For a moment she sat still, and then a pain shot through her, a pain as +sharp as a dagger thrust. She drew her hand away. + +"I can't love--I can only hate," she said. + +"But you do not hate me!" Rolfe repudiated so gross a fact. His voice +caught as in a sob. "I, who love you, who have taught you!" + +She dismissed this--what he had taught her--with a gesture which, though +slight, was all-expressive. He drew back from her. + +"Shall I tell you who has planned and carried out this plot?" he cried. +"It is Ditmar. He is the one, and he used Janes, the livery stable +keeper, the politician who brought the dynamite to Hampton, as his tool. +Half an hour before Janes got to the station in Boston he was seen by a +friend of ours talking to Ditmar in front of the Chippering offices, and +Janes had the satchel with him then. Ditmar walked to the corner with +him." + +Janet, too, had risen. + +"I don't believe it," she said. + +"Ah, I thought you wouldn't! But we have the proof that dynamite was in +the satchel, we've found the contractor from whom it was bought. I was a +fool--I might have known that you loved Ditmar." + +"I hate him!" said Janet. + +"It is the same thing," said Rolfe. + +She did not answer.... He watched her in silence as she put on her hat +and coat and left the room. + +The early dusk was gathering when she left the hall and made her way +toward the city. The huge bottle-shaped chimneys of the power plant +injected heavy black smoke into the wet air. In Faber Street the once +brilliant signs above the "ten-foot" buildings seemed dulled, the +telegraph poles starker, nakeder than ever, their wires scarcely +discernible against the smeared sky. The pedestrians were sombrely +garbed, and went about in "rubbers"--the most depressing of all articles +worn by man. Sodden piles of snow still hid the curb and gutters, but +the pavements were trailed with mud that gleamed in the light from the +shop windows. And Janet, lingering unconsciously in front of that very +emporium where Lisehad been incarcerated, the Bagatelle, stared at the +finery displayed there, at the blue tulle dress that might be purchased, +she read, for $22.99. She found herself repeating, in meaningless, +subdued tones, the words, "twenty-two ninety-nine." She even tried--just +to see if it were possible--to concentrate her mind on that dress, on the +fur muffs and tippets in the next window; to act as if this were just an +ordinary, sad February afternoon, and she herself once more just an +ordinary stenographer leading a monotonous, uneventful existence. But +she knew that this was not true, because, later on, she was going to do +something--to commit some act. She didn't know what this act would be. +Her head was hot, her temples throbbed.... + +Night had fallen, the electric arcs burned blue overhead, she was in +another street--was it Stanley? Sounds of music reached her, the rumble +of marching feet; dark, massed figures were in the distance swimming +toward her along the glistening line of the car tracks, and she heard the +shrill whistling of the doffer boys, who acted as a sort of fife corps in +these parades--which by this time had become familiar to the citizens of +Hampton. And Janet remembered when the little red book that contained +the songs had arrived at Headquarters from the west and had been +distributed by thousands among the strikers. She recalled the words of +this song, though the procession was as yet too far away for her to +distinguish them:-- + + "The People's flag is deepest red, + It shrouded oft our martyred dead, + And ere their limbs grew stiff and cold, + Their life-blood dyed its every fold." + +The song ceased, and she stood still, waiting for the procession to reach +her. A group of heavy Belgian women were marching together. Suddenly, +as by a simultaneous impulse, their voices rang out in the +Internationale--the terrible Marseillaise of the workers:-- + + "Arise, ye prisoners of starvation! + Arise, ye wretched of the earth!" + +And the refrain was taken up by hundreds of throats:-- + + "'Tis the final conflict, + Let each stand in his place!" + +The walls of the street flung it back. On the sidewalk, pressed against +the houses, men and women heard it with white faces. But Janet was +carried on.... The scene changed, now she was gazing at a mass of human +beings hemmed in by a line of soldiers. Behind the crowd was a row of +old-fashioned brick houses, on the walls of which were patterned, by the +cold electric light, the branches of the bare elms ranged along the +sidewalk. People leaned out of the windows, like theatregoers at a play. +The light illuminated the red and white bars of the ensign, upheld by the +standard bearer of the regiment, the smaller flags flaunted by the +strikers--each side clinging hardily to the emblem of human liberty. The +light fell, too, harshly and brilliantly, on the workers in the front +rank confronting the bayonets, and these seemed strangely indifferent, as +though waiting for the flash of a photograph. A little farther on a +group of boys, hands in pockets, stared at the soldiers with bravado. +From the rear came that indescribable "booing" which those who have heard +never forget, mingled with curses and cries:-- + +"Vive la greve!" + +"To hell with the Cossacks!" + +"Kahm on--shoot!" + +The backs of the soldiers, determined, unyielding, were covered with +heavy brown capes that fell below the waist. As Janet's glance wandered +down the line it was arrested by the face of a man in a visored woollen +cap--a face that was almost sepia, in which large white eyeballs struck a +note of hatred. And what she seemed to see in it, confronting her, were +the hatred and despair of her own soul! The man might have been a +Hungarian or a Pole; the breadth of his chin was accentuated by a wide, +black moustache, his attitude was tense,--that of a maddened beast ready +to spring at the soldier in front of him. He was plainly one of those +who had reached the mental limit of endurance. + +In contrast with this foreigner, confronting him, a young lieutenant +stood motionless, his head cocked on one side, his hand grasping the club +held a little behind him, his glance meeting the other's squarely, but +with a different quality of defiance. All his faculties were on the +alert. He wore no overcoat, and the uniform fitting close to his figure, +the broad-brimmed campaign hat of felt served to bring into relief the +physical characteristics of the American Anglo-Saxon, of the +individualist who became the fighting pioneer. But Janet, save to +register the presence of the intense antagonism between the two, scarcely +noticed her fellow countryman.... Every moment she expected to see the +black man spring,--and yet movement would have marred the drama of that +consuming hatred.... + +Then, by one of those bewildering, kaleidoscopic shifts to which crowds +are subject, the scene changed, more troops arrived, little by little the +people were dispersed to drift together again by chance--in smaller +numbers--several blocks away. Perhaps a hundred and fifty were scattered +over the space formed by the intersection of two streets, where three or +four special policemen with night sticks urged them on. Not a riot, or +anything approaching it. The police were jeered, but the groups, +apparently, had already begun to scatter, when from the triangular +vestibule of a saloon on the corner darted a flame followed by an echoing +report, a woman bundled up in a shawl screamed and sank on the snow. For +an instant the little French-Canadian policeman whom the shot had missed +gazed stupidly down at her.... + +As Janet ran along the dark pavements the sound of the shot and of the +woman's shriek continued to ring in her ears. At last she stopped in +front of the warehouse beyond Mr. Tiernan's shop, staring at the darkened +windows of the flat--of the front room in which her mother now slept +alone. For a minute she stood looking at these windows, as though +hypnotized by some message they conveyed--the answer to a question +suggested by the incident that had aroused and terrified her. They drew +her, as in a trance, across the street, she opened the glass-panelled +door, remembering mechanically the trick it had of not quite closing, +turned and pushed it to and climbed the stairs. In the diningroom the +metal lamp, brightly polished, was burning as usual, its light falling on +the chequered red table-cloth, on her father's empty chair, on that +somewhat battered heirloom, the horsehair sofa. All was so familiar, and +yet so amazingly unfamiliar, so silent! At this time Edward should be +reading the Banner, her mother bustling in and out, setting the table for +supper. But not a dish was set. The ticking of the ancient clock only +served to intensify the silence. Janet entered, almost on tiptoe, made +her way to the kitchen door, and looked in. The stove was polished, the +pans bright upon the wall, and Hannah was seated in a corner, her hands +folded across a spotless apron. Her scant hair was now pure white, her +dress seemed to have fallen away from her wasted neck, which was like a +trefoil column. + +"Is that you, Janet? You hain't seen anything of your father?" + +The night before Janet had heard this question, and she had been puzzled +as to its meaning--whether in the course of the day she had seen her +father, or whether Hannah thought he was coming home. + +"He's at the mill, mother. You know he has to stay there." + +"I know," replied Hannah, in a tone faintly reminiscent of the old +aspersion. "But I've got everything ready for him in case he should +come--any time--if the strikers hain't killed him." + +"But he's safe where he is." + +"I presume they will try to kill him, before they get through," Hannah +continued evenly. "But in case he should come at any time, and I'm not +here, you tell him all those Bumpus papers are put away in the drawer of +that old chest, in the corner. I can't think what he'd do without those +papers. That is," she added, "if you're here yourself." + +"Why shouldn't you be here?" asked Janet, rather sharply. + +"I dunno, I seem to have got through." She glanced helplessly around the +kitchen. "There don't seem to be much left to keep me alive.... I guess +you'll be wanting your supper, won't you? You hain't often home these +days--whatever it is you're doing. I didn't expect you." + +Janet did not answer at once. + +"I--I have to go out again, mother," she said. + +Hannah accepted the answer as she had accepted every other negative in +life, great and small. + +"Well, I guessed you would." + +Janet made a step toward her. + +"Mother!" she said, but Hannah gazed at her uncomprehendingly. Janet +stooped convulsively, and kissed her. Straightening up, she stood +looking down at her mother for a few moments, and went out of the room, +pausing in the dining-room, to listen, but Hannah apparently had not +stirred. She took the box of matches from its accustomed place on the +shelf beside the clock, entered the dark bedroom in the front of the +flat, closing the door softly behind her. The ghostly blue light from a +distant arc came slanting in at the window, glinting on the brass knobs +of the chest of drawers-another Bumpus heirloom. She remembered that +chest from early childhood; it was one of the few pieces that, following +them in all their changes of residence, had been faithful to the end: she +knew everything in it, and the place for everything. Drawing a match +from the box, she was about to turn on the gas--but the light from the +arc would suffice. As she made her way around the walnut bed she had a +premonition of poignant anguish as yet unrealized, of anguish being held +at bay by a stronger, fiercer, more imperative emotion now demanding +expression, refusing at last to be denied. She opened the top drawer of +the chest, the drawer in which Hannah, breaking tradition, had put the +Bumpus genealogy. Edward had never kept it there. Would the other +things be in place? Groping with her hands in the left-hand corner, her +fingers clasped exultantly something heavy, something wrapped carefully +in layers of flannel. She had feared her father might have taken it to +the mill! She drew it out, unwound the flannel, and held to the light an +old-fashioned revolver, the grease glistening along its barrel. She +remembered, too, that the cartridges had lain beside it, and thrusting +her hand once more into the drawer found the box, extracting several, and +replacing the rest, closed the drawer, and crept through the dining-room +to her bedroom, where she lit the gas in order to examine the weapon-- +finally contriving, more by accident than skill, to break it. The +cartridges, of course, fitted into the empty cylinder. But before +inserting them she closed the pistol once more, cocked it, and held it +out. Her arm trembled violently as she pulled the trigger. Could she do +it? As though to refute this doubt of her ability to carry out an act +determined upon, she broke the weapon once more, loaded and closed it, +and thrust it in the pocket of her coat. Then, washing the grease from +her hands, she put on her gloves, and was about to turn out the light +when she saw reflected in the glass the red button of the I.W.W. still +pinned on her coat. This she tore off, and flung on the bureau. + +When she had kissed her mother, when she had stood hesitatingly in the +darkness of the familiar front bedroom in the presence of unsummoned +memories of a home she had believed herself to resent and despise, she +had nearly faltered. But once in the street, this weakness suddenly +vanished, was replaced by a sense of wrong that now took complete and +furious possession of her, driving her like a gale at her back. She +scarcely felt on her face the fine rain that had begun to fall once more. +Her feet were accustomed to the way. When she had turned down West +Street and almost gained the canal, it was with a shock of surprise that +she found herself confronted by a man in a long cape who held a rifle and +barred her path. She stared at him as at an apparition. + +"You can't get by here," he said. "Don't you know that?" + +She did not reply. He continued to look at her, and presently asked, in +a gentler tone:-- + +"Where did you wish to go, lady?" + +"Into the mill," she replied, "to the offices." + +"But there can't anybody go through here unless they have a pass. I'm +sorry, but that's the order." + +Her answer came so readily as to surprise her. + +"I was Mr. Ditmar's private stenographer. I have to see him." + +The sentry hesitated, and then addressed another soldier, who was near +the bridge. + +"Hi, sergeant!" he called. The sergeant came up--a conscientious Boston +clerk who had joined the militia from a sense of duty and a need for +exercise. While the sentry explained the matter he gazed at Janet. Then +be said politely:-- + +"I'm sorry, Miss, but I can't disobey orders." + +"But can't you send word to Mr. Ditmar, and tell him I want to see him?" +she asked. + +"Why, I guess so," he answered, after a moment. "What name shall I say?" + +"Miss Bumpus." + +"Bumpus," he repeated. "That's the gatekeeper's name." + +"I'm his daughter--but I want to see Mr. Ditmar." + +"Well," said the sergeant, "I'm sure it's all right, but I'll have to +send in anyway. Orders are orders. You understand?" + +She nodded as he departed. She saw him cross the bridge like a ghost +through the white mist rising from the canal. And through the mist she +could make out the fortresslike mass of the mill itself, and the blurred, +distorted lights in the paymaster's offices smeared on the white curtain +of the vapour. + +"Nasty weather," the sentry remarked, in friendly fashion. He appeared +now, despite his uniform, as a good-natured, ungainly youth. + +Janet nodded. + +"You'd ought to have brought an umbrella," he said. "I guess it'll rain +harder, before it gets through. But it's better than ten below zero, +anyhow." + +She nodded again, but he did not seem to resent her silence. He talked +about the hardship of patrolling in winter, until the sergeant came back. + +"It's all right, Miss Bumpus," he said, and touched his hat as he +escorted her to the bridge. She crossed the canal and went through the +vestibule without replying to the greeting of the night-watchman, or +noticing his curious glance; she climbed the steel-clad stairway, passed +the paymaster's offices and Mr. Orcutt's, and gained the outer office +where she had worked as a stenographer. It was dark, but sufficient +light came through Ditmar's open door to guide her beside the rail. He +had heard her step, and as she entered his room he had put his hands +heavily on his desk, in the act of rising from his chair. + +"Janet!" he said, and started toward her, but got no farther than the +corner of the desk. The sight of her heaving breast, of the peculiar +light that flashed from beneath her lashes stopped him suddenly. Her +hands were in her pockets. "What is it?" he demanded stupidly. + +But she continued to stand there, breathing so heavily that she could not +speak. It was then that he became aware of an acute danger. He did not +flinch. + +"What is it?" he repeated. + +Still she was silent. One hand was thrust deeper into its pocket, he saw +a shudder run through her, and suddenly she burst into hysterical +weeping, sinking into a chair. He stood for some moments helplessly +regarding her before he gained the presence of mind to go to the door and +lock it, returning to bend over her. + +"Don't touch me!" she said, shrinking from him. + +"For God's sake tell me what's the matter," he begged. + +She looked up at him and tried to speak, struggling against the sobs that +shook her. + +"I--I came here to--to kill you--only I can't do it." + +"To kill me!" he said, after a pause. In spite of the fact that he had +half divined her intention, the words shocked him. Whatever else may be +said of him, he did not lack courage, his alarm was not of a physical +nature. Mingled with it were emotions he himself did not understand, +caused by the unwonted sight of her loss of self-control, of her anger, +and despair. "Why did you want to kill me?" + +And again he had to wait for an answer. + +"Because you've spoiled my life--because I'm going to have a child!" + +"What do you mean? Are you?... it can't be possible." + +"It is possible, it's true--it's true. I've waited and waited, I've +suffered, I've almost gone crazy--and now I know. And I said I'd kill +you if it were so, I'd kill myself--only I can't. I'm a coward." Her +voice was drowned again by weeping. + +A child! He had never imagined such a contingency! And as he leaned +back against the desk, his emotions became chaotic. The sight of her, +even as she appeared crazed by anger, had set his passion aflame--for the +intensity and fierceness of her nature had always made a strong appeal to +dominant qualities in Ditmar's nature. And then--this announcement! +Momentarily it turned his heart to water. Now that he was confronted by +an exigency that had once vicariously yet deeply disturbed him in a +similar affair of a friend of his, the code and habit of a lifetime +gained an immediate ascendency--since then he had insisted that this +particular situation was to be avoided above all others. And his mind +leaped to possibilities. She had wished to kill him--would she remain +desperate enough to ruin him? Even though he were not at a crisis in his +affairs, a scandal of this kind would be fatal. + +"I didn't know," he said desperately, "I couldn't guess. Do you think I +would have had this thing happen to you? I was carried away--we were +both carried away--" + +"You planned it!" she replied vehemently, without looking up. "You +didn't care for me, you only--wanted me." + +"That isn't so--I swear that isn't so. I loved you I love you." + +"Oh, do you think I believe that?" she exclaimed. + +"I swear it--I'll prove it!" he protested. Still under the influence of +an acute anxiety, he was finding it difficult to gather his wits, to +present his case. "When you left me that day the strike began--when you +left me without giving me a chance--you'll never know how that hurt me." + +"You'll never know how it hurt me!" she interrupted. + +"Then why, in God's name, did you do it? I wasn't myself, then, you +ought to have seen that. And when I heard from Caldwell here that you'd +joined those anarchists--" + +"They're no worse than you are--they only want what you've got," she +said. + +He waved this aside. "I couldn't believe it--I wouldn't believe it until +somebody saw you walking with one of them to their Headquarters. Why did +you do it?" + +"Because I know how they feel, I sympathize with the strikers, I want +them to win--against you!" She lifted her head and looked at him, and in +spite of the state of his feelings he felt a twinge of admiration at her +defiance. + +"Because you love me!" he said. + +"Because I hate you," she answered. + +And yet a spark of exultation leaped within him at the thought that love +had caused this apostasy. He had had that suspicion before, though it +was a poor consolation when he could not reach her. Now she had made it +vivid. A woman's logic, or lack of logic--her logic. + +"Listen!" he pleaded. "I tried to forget you--I tried to keep myself +going all the time that I mightn't think of you, but I couldn't help +thinking of you, wanting you, longing for you. I never knew why you left +me, except that you seemed to believe I was unkind to you, and that +something had happened. It wasn't my fault--" he pulled himself up +abruptly. + +"I found out what men were like," she said. "A man made my sister a +woman of the streets--that's what you've done to me." + +He winced. And the calmness she had regained, which was so +characteristic of her, struck him with a new fear. + +"I'm not that kind of a man," he said. + +But she did not answer. His predicament became more trying. + +"I'll take care of you," he assured her, after a moment. "If you'll only +trust me, if you'll only come to me I'll see that no harm comes to you." + +She regarded him with a sort of wonder--a look that put a fine edge of +dignity and scorn to her words when they came. + +"I told you I didn't want to be taken care of--I wanted to kill you, and +kill myself. I don't know why I can't what prevents me." She rose. +"But I'm not going to trouble you any more--you'll never hear of me +again." + +She would not trouble him, she was going away, he would never hear of her +again! Suddenly, with the surge of relief he experienced, came a pang. +He could not let her go--it was impossible. It seemed that he had never +understood his need of her, his love for her, until now that he had +brought her to this supreme test of self-revelation. She had wanted to +kill him, yes, to kill herself--but how could he ever have believed that +she would stoop to another method of retaliation? As she stood before +him the light in her eyes still wet with tears--transfigured her. + +"I love you, Janet," he said. "I want you to marry me." + +"You don't understand," she answered. "You never did. If I had married +you, I'd feel just the same--but it isn't really as bad as if we had been +married." + +"Not as bad!" he exclaimed. + +"If we were married, you'd think you had rights over me," she explained, +slowly. "Now you haven't any, I can go away. I couldn't live with you. +I know what happened to me, I've thought it all out, I wanted to get away +from the life I was leading--I hated it so, I was crazy to have a chance, +to see the world, to get nearer some of the beautiful things I knew were +there, but couldn't reach.... And you came along. I did love you, I +would have done anything for you--it was only when I saw that you didn't +really love me that I began to hate you, that I wanted to get away from +you, when I saw that you only wanted me until you should get tired of me. +That's your nature, you can't help it. And it would have been the same +if we were married, only worse, I couldn't have stood it any more than I +can now--I'd have left you. You say you'll marry me now, but that's +because you're sorry for me--since I've said I'm not going to trouble you +any more. You'll be glad I've gone. You may--want me now, but that +isn't love. When you say you love me, I can't believe you." + +"You must believe me! And the child, Janet,--our child--" + +"If the world was right," she said, "I could have this child and nobody +would say anything. I could support it--I guess I can anyway. And when +I'm not half crazy I want it. Maybe that's the reason I couldn't do what +I tried to do just now. It's natural for a woman to want a child-- +especially a woman like me, who hasn't anybody or anything." + +Ditmar's state of mind was too complicated to be wholly described. As +the fact had been gradually brought home to him that she had not come as +a supplicant, that even in her misery she was free, and he helpless, +there revived in him wild memories of her body, of the kisses he had +wrung from her--and yet this physical desire was accompanied by a +realization of her personality never before achieved. And because he had +hitherto failed to achieve it, she had escaped him. This belated, +surpassing glimpse of what she essentially was, and the thought of the +child their child--permeating his passion, transformed it into a feeling +hitherto unexperienced and unimagined. He hovered over her, pitifully, +his hands feeling for her, yet not daring to touch her. + +"Can't you see that I love you?" he cried, "that I'm ready to marry you +now, to-night. You must love me, I won't believe that you don't after-- +after all we have been to each other." + +But even then she could not believe. Something in her, made hard by the +intensity of her suffering, refused to melt. And her head was throbbing, +and she scarcely heard him. + +"I can't stay any longer," she said, getting to her feet. "I can't bear +it." + +"Janet, I swear I'll care for you as no woman was ever cared for. For +God's sake listen to me, give me a chance, forgive me!" He seized her +arm; she struggled, gently but persistently, to free herself from his +hold. + +"Let me go, please." All the passionate anger had gone out of her, and +she spoke in a monotone, as one under hypnosis, dominated by a resolution +which, for the present at least, he was powerless to shake. + +"But to-morrow?" he pleaded. "You'll let me see you to-morrow, when +you've had time to think it over, when you realize that I love you and +want you, that I haven't meant to be cruel--that you've misjudged me-- +thought I was a different kind of a man. I don't blame you for that, I +guess something happened to make you believe it. I've got enemies. For +the sake of the child, Janet, if for nothing else, you'll come back to +me! You're--you're tired tonight, you're not yourself. I don't wonder, +after all you've been through. If you'd only come to me before! God +knows what I've suffered, too!" + +"Let me go, please," she repeated, and this time, despairingly, he obeyed +her, a conviction of her incommunicability overwhelming him. He +turned and, fumbling with the key, unlocked the door and opened it. +"I'll see you to-morrow," he faltered once more, and watched her as she +went through the darkened outer room until she gained the lighted hallway +beyond and disappeared. Her footsteps died away into silence. He was +trembling. For several minutes he stood where she had left him, tortured +by a sense of his inability to act, to cope with this, the great crisis +of his life, when suddenly the real significance of that strange last +look in her eyes was borne home to him. And he had allowed her to go out +into the streets alone! Seizing his hat and coat, he fairly ran out of +the office and down the stairs and across the bridge. + +"Which way did that young lady go?" he demanders of the sergeant. + +"Why--ug West Street, Mr. Ditmar." + +He remembered where Filhnore Street was; he had, indeed, sought it out +one evening in the hope of meeting her. He hurried toward it now, his +glance strained ahead to catch sight of her figure under a lamp. But he +reached Fillmore Street without overtaking her, and in the rain he stood +gazing at the mean houses there, wondering in which of them she lived, +and whether she had as yet come home.... + +After leaving Ditmar Janet, probably from force of habit, had indeed gone +through West Street, and after that she walked on aimlessly. It was +better to walk than to sit alone in torment, to be gnawed by that Thing +from which she had so desperately attempted to escape, and failed. She +tried to think why she had failed.... Though the rain fell on her +cheeks, her mouth was parched; and this dryness of her palate, this +physical sense of lightness, almost of dizziness, were intimately yet +incomprehensibly part and parcel of the fantastic moods into which she +floated. It was as though, in trying to solve a problem, she caught +herself from time to time falling off to sleep. In her waking moments +she was terror-stricken. Scarce an hour had passed since, in a terrible +exaltation at having found a solution, she had gone to Ditmar's office in +the mill. What had happened to stay her? It was when she tried to find +the cause of the weakness that so abruptly had overtaken her, or to cast +about for a plan to fit the new predicament to which her failure had +sentenced her, that the fantasies intruded. She heard Ditmar speaking, +the arguments were curiously familiar--but they were not Ditmar's! They +were her father's, and now it was Edward's voice to which she listened, +he was telling her how eminently proper it was that she should marry +Ditmar, because of her Bumpus blood. And this made her laugh.... Again, +Ditmar was kissing her hair. He had often praised it. She had taken it +down and combed it out for him; it was like a cloud, he said--so fine; +its odour made him faint--and then the odour changed, became that of the +detested perfume of Miss Lottie Myers! Even that made Janet smile! But +Ditmar was strong, he was powerful, he was a Fact, why not go back to him +and let him absorb and destroy her? That annihilation would be joy.... + +It could not have been much later than seven o'clock when she found +herself opposite the familiar, mulberry-shingled Protestant church. The +light from its vestibule made a gleaming square on the wet sidewalk, and +into this area, from the surrounding darkness, came silhouetted figures +of men and women holding up umbrellas; some paused for a moment's chat, +their voices subdued by an awareness of the tabernacle. At the sight of +this tiny congregation something stirred within her. She experienced a +twinge of surprise at the discovery that other people in the world, in +Hampton, were still leading tranquil, untormented existences. They were +contented, prosperous, stupid, beyond any need of help from God, and yet +they were going to prayer-meeting to ask something! He refused to find +her in the dark streets. Would she find Him if she went in there? and +would He help her? + +The bell in the tower began to clang, with heavy, relentless strokes-- +like physical blows from which she flinched--each stirring her reluctant, +drowsy soul to a quicker agony. From the outer blackness through which +she fled she gazed into bright rooms of homes whose blinds were left +undrawn, as though to taunt and mock the wanderer. She was an outcast! +Who henceforth would receive her save those, unconformed and +unconformable, sentenced to sin in this realm of blackness? Henceforth +from all warmth and love she was banished.... In the middle of the +Stanley Street bridge she stopped to lean against the wet rail; the mill +lights were scattered, dancing points of fire over the invisible swift +waters, and she raised her eyes presently to the lights themselves, +seeking one unconsciously--Ditmar's! Yes, it was his she sought; though +it was so distant, sometimes it seemed to burn like a red star, and then +to flicker and disappear. She could not be sure.... Something chill and +steely was in the pocket of her coat--it made a heavy splash in the water +when she dropped it. The river could not be so very cold! She wished +she could go down like that into forgetfulness. But she couldn't.... +Where was Lise now?... It would be so easy just to drop over that +parapet and be whirled away, and down and down. Why couldn't she? Well, +it was because--because--she was going to have a child. Well, if she had +a child to take care of, she would not be so lonely--she would have +something to love. She loved it now, as though she felt it quickening +within her, she wanted it, to lavish on it all of a starved affection. +She seemed actually to feel in her arms its soft little body pressed +against her. Claude Ditmar's child! And she suddenly recalled, as an +incident of the remote past, that she had told him she wanted it! + +This tense craving for it she felt now was somehow the answer to an +expressed wish which had astonished her. Perhaps that was the reason why +she had failed to do what she had tried to do, to shoot Ditmar and +herself! It was Ditmar's child, Ditmar's and hers! He had loved her, +long ago, and just now--was it just now?--he had said he loved her still, +he had wanted to marry her. Then why had she run away from him? Why had +she taken the child into outer darkness, to be born without a father,-- +when she loved Ditmar? Wasn't that one reason why she wanted the child? +why, even in her moments of passionate hatred she recalled having been +surprised by some such yearning as now came over her? And for an +interval, a brief interval, she viewed him with startling clarity. Not +because he embodied any ideal did she love him, but because he was what +he was, because he had overcome her will, dominated and possessed her, +left his mark upon her indelibly. He had been cruel to her, willing to +sacrifice her to his way of life, to his own desires, but he loved her, +for she had seen, if not heeded in his eyes the look that a woman never +mistakes! She remembered it now, and the light in his window glowed +again, like a star to guide her back to him. It was drawing her, +irresistibly.... + +The sentry recognized her as she came along the canal. + +"Mr. Ditmar's gone," he told her. + +"Gone!" she repeated. "Gone!" + +"Why, yes, about five minutes after you left he was looking for you--he +asked the sergeant about you." + +"And--he won't be back?" + +"I guess not," answered the man, sympathetically. "He said good-night." + +She turned away dully. The strength and hope with which she had been so +unexpectedly infused while gazing from the bridge at his window had +suddenly ebbed; her legs ached, her feet were wet, and she shivered, +though her forehead burned. The world became distorted, people flitted +past her like weird figures of a dream, the myriad lights of Faber Street +were blurred and whirled in company with the electric signs. Seeking to +escape from their confusion she entered a side street leading north, only +to be forcibly seized by some one who darted after her from the sidewalk. + +"Excuse me, but you didn't see that automobile," he said, as he released +her. + +Shaken, she went on through several streets to find herself at length +confronted by a pair of shabby doors that looked familiar, and pushing +one of them open, baited at the bottom of a stairway to listen. The +sound of cheerful voices camp to her from above; she started to climb-- +even with the help of the rail it seemed as if she would never reach the +top of that stairway. But at last she stood in a loft where long tables +were set, and at the end of one of these, sorting out spoons and dishes, +three women and a man were chatting and laughing together. Janet was +troubled because she could not remember who the man was, although she +recognized his bold profile, his voice and gestures.... At length one of +the women said something in a low tone, and he looked around quickly and +crossed the room. + +"Why, it's you!" he said, and suddenly she recalled his name. + +"Mr. Insall!" + +But his swift glance had noticed the expression in her eyes, the sagged +condition of her clothes, the attitude that proclaimed exhaustion. He +took her by the arm and led her to the little storeroom, turning on the +light and placing her in a chair. Darkness descended on her.... + +Mrs. Maturin, returning from an errand, paused for an instant in the +doorway, and ran forward and bent over Janet. + +"Oh, Brooks, what is it--what's happened to her?" + +"I don't know," he replied, "I didn't have a chance to ask her. I'm +going for a doctor." + +"Leave her to me, and call Miss Hay." Mrs. Maturin was instantly +competen .... And when Insall came back from the drug store where he had +telephoned she met him at the head of the stairs. "We've done everything +we can, Edith Hay has given her brandy, and gone off for dry clothes, and +we've taken all the children's things out of the drawers and laid her on +the floor, but she hasn't come to. Poor child,--what can have happened +to her? Is the doctor coming?" + +"Right away," said Insall, and Mrs. Maturin went back into the storeroom. +Miss Hay brought the dry clothes before the physician arrived. + +"It's probably pneumonia," he explained to Insall a little later. "She +must go to the hospital--but the trouble is all our hospitals are pretty +full, owing to the sickness caused by the strike." He hesitated. "Of +course, if she has friends, she could have better care in a private +institution just now." + +"Oh, she has friends," said Mrs. Maturin. "Couldn't we take her to our +little hospital at Silliston, doctor? It's only four miles--that isn't +much in an automobile, and the roads are good now." + +"Well, the risk isn't much greater, if you have a closed car, and she +would, of course, be better looked after," the physician consented. + +"I'll see to it at once," said Insall.... + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +The Martha Wootton Memorial Hospital was the hobby of an angel alumnus of +Silliston. It was situated in Hovey's Lane, but from the window of the +white-enameled room in which she lay Janet could see the bare branches of +the Common elms quivering to the spring gusts, could watch, day by day, +the grass changing from yellow-brown to vivid green in the white +sunlight. In the morning, when the nurse opened the blinds, that +sunlight swept radiantly into the room, lavish with its caresses; always +spending, always giving, the symbol of a loving care that had been poured +out on her, unasked and unsought. It was sweet to rest, to sleep. And +instead of the stringent monster-cry of the siren, of the discordant +clamour of the mill bells, it was sweet yet strange to be awakened by +silvertoned chimes proclaiming peaceful hours. At first she surrendered +to the spell, and had no thought of the future. For a little while every +day, Mrs. Maturin read aloud, usually from books of poetry. And knowing +many of the verses by heart, she would watch Janet's face, framed in the +soft dark hair that fell in two long plaits over her shoulders. For +Janet little guessed the thought that went into the choosing of these +books, nor could she know of the hours spent by this lady pondering over +library shelves or consulting eagerly with Brooks Insall. Sometimes +Augusta Maturin thought of Janet as a wildflower--one of the rare, shy +ones, hiding under its leaves; sprung up in Hampton, of all places, +crushed by a heedless foot, yet miraculously not destroyed, and already +pushing forth new and eager tendrils. And she had transplanted it. To +find the proper nourishment, to give it a chance to grow in a native, +congenial soil, such was her breathless task. And so she had selected +"The Child's Garden of Verses." + + "I should like to rise and go + Where the golden apples grow"... + +When she laid down her book it was to talk, perhaps, of Silliston. +Established here before the birth of the Republic, its roots were bedded +in the soil of a racial empire, to a larger vision of which Augusta +Maturin clung: an empire of Anglo-Saxon tradition which, despite +disagreements and conflicts--nay, through them--developed imperceptibly +toward a sublimer union, founded not on dominion, but on justice and +right. She spoke of the England she had visited on her wedding journey, +of the landmarks and literature that also through generations have been +American birthrights; and of that righteous self-assertion and +independence which, by protest and even by war, America had contributed +to the democracy of the future. Silliston, indifferent to cults and +cataclysms, undisturbed by the dark tides flung westward to gather in +deposits in other parts of the land, had held fast to the old tradition, +stood ready to do her share to transform it into something even nobler +when the time should come. Simplicity and worth and beauty--these +elements at least of the older Republic should not perish, but in the end +prevail. + +She spoke simply of these things, connecting them with a Silliston whose +spirit appealed to all that was inherent and abiding in the girl. All +was not chaos: here at least, a beacon burned with a bright and steady +flame. And she spoke of Andrew Silliston, the sturdy colonial prototype +of the American culture, who had fought against his King, who had spent +his modest fortune to found this seat of learning, believing as he did +that education is the cornerstone of republics; divining that lasting +unity is possible alone by the transformation of the individual into the +citizen through voluntary bestowal of service and the fruits of labour. +Samuel Wootton, the Boston merchant who had given the hospital, was +Andrew's true descendant, imbued with the same half-conscious intuition +that builds even better that it reeks. And Andrew, could he have returns +to earth in his laced coat and long silk waistcoat, would still recognize +his own soul in Silliston Academy, the soul of his creed and race. + + "Away down the river, + A hundred miles or more, + Other little children + Shall bring my boats ashore."... + +Janet drew in a great breath, involuntarily. These were moments when it +seemed that she could scarcely contain what she felt of beauty and +significance, when the ecstasy and pain were not to be borne. And +sometimes, as she listened to Mrs. Maturin's voice, she wept in silence. +Again a strange peace descended on her, the peace of an exile come home; +if not to remain, at least to know her own land and people before faring +forth. She would not think of that faring yet awhile, but strive to live +and taste the present--and yet as life flowed back into her veins that +past arose to haunt her, she yearned to pour it out to her new friend, to +confess all that had happened to her. Why couldn't she? But she was +grateful because Mrs. Maturin betrayed no curiosity. Janet often lay +watching her, puzzled, under the spell of a frankness, an ingenuousness, +a simplicity she had least expected to find in one who belonged to such a +learned place as that of Silliston. But even learning, she was +discovering, could be amazingly simple. Freely and naturally Mrs. +Maturin dwelt on her own past, on the little girl of six taken from her +the year after her husband died, on her husband himself, once a professor +here, and who, just before his last illness, had published a brilliant +book on Russian literature which resulted in his being called to Harvard. +They had gone to Switzerland instead, and Augusta Maturin had come back +to Silliston. She told Janet of the loon-haunted lake, hemmed in by the +Laurentian hills, besieged by forests, where she had spent her girlhood +summers with her father, Professor Wishart, of the University of Toronto. +There, in search of health, Gifford Maturin had come at her father's +suggestion to camp. + +Janet, of course, could not know all of that romance, though she tried to +picture it from what her friend told her. Augusta Wishart, at six and +twenty, had been one of those magnificent Canadian women who are most at +home in the open; she could have carried Gifford Maturinout of the +wilderness on her back. She was five feet seven, modelled in proportion, +endowed by some Celtic ancestor with that dark chestnut hair which, +because of its abundance, she wore braided and caught up in a heavy knot +behind her head. Tanned by the northern sun, kneeling upright in a +canoe, she might at a little distance have been mistaken for one of the +race to which the forests and waters had once belonged. The instinct of +mothering was strong in her, and from the beginning she had taken the shy +and delicate student under her wing, recognizing in him one of the +physically helpless dedicated to a supreme function. He was forever +catching colds, his food disagreed with him, and on her own initiative +she discharged his habitant cook and supplied him with one of her own +choosing. When overtaken by one of his indispositions she paddled him +about the lake with lusty strokes, first placing a blanket over his +knees, and he submitted: he had no pride of that sort, he was utterly +indifferent to the figure he cut beside his Amazon. His gentleness of +disposition, his brilliant conversations with those whom, like her +father, he knew and trusted, captivated Augusta. At this period of her +life she was awakening to the glories of literature and taking a special +course in that branch. He talked to her of Gogol, Turgenief, and +Dostoievsky, and seated on the log piazza read in excellent French "Dead +Souls," "Peres et Enfants," and "The Brothers Karamazoff." At the end of +August he went homeward almost gaily, quite ignorant of the arrow in his +heart, until he began to miss Augusta Wishart's ministrations--and +Augusta Wishart herself.... Then had followed that too brief period of +intensive happiness.... + +The idea of remarriage had never occurred to her. At eight and thirty, +though tragedy had left its mark, it had been powerless to destroy the +sweetness of a nature of such vitality as hers. The innate necessity of +loving remained, and as time went on had grown more wistful and +insistent. Insall and her Silliston neighbours were wont, indeed, gently +to rally her on her enthusiams, while understanding and sympathizing with +this need in her. A creature of intuition, Janet had appealed to her +from the beginning, arousing first her curiosity, and then the maternal +instinct that craved a mind to mould, a soul to respond to her touch.... + +Mrs. Maturin often talked to Janet of Insall, who had, in a way, long +been connected with Silliston. In his early wandering days, when +tramping over New England, he used unexpectedly to turn up at Dr. +Ledyard's, the principal's, remain for several weeks and disappear again. +Even then he, had been a sort of institution, a professor emeritus in +botany, bird lore, and woodcraft, taking the boys on long walks through +the neighbouring hills; and suddenly he had surprised everybody by +fancying the tumble-down farmhouse in Judith's Lane, which he had +restored with his own hands into the quaintest of old world dwellings. +Behind it he had made a dam in the brook, and put in a water wheel that +ran his workshop. In play hours the place was usually overrun by +boys.... But sometimes the old craving for tramping would overtake him, +one day his friends would find the house shut up, and he would be absent +for a fortnight, perhaps for a month--one never knew when he was going, +or when he would return. He went, like his hero, Silas Simpkins, through +the byways of New England, stopping at night at the farm-houses, or often +sleeping out under the stars. And then, perhaps, he would write another +book. He wrote only when he felt like writing. + +It was this book of Insall's, "The Travels of Silas Simpkins", rather than +his "Epworth Green" or "The Hermit of Blue Mountain," that Mrs. Maturin +chose to read to Janet. Unlike the sage of Walden, than whom he was more +gregarious, instead of a log house for his castle Silas Simpkins chose a +cart, which he drove in a most leisurely manner from the sea to the +mountains, penetrating even to hamlets beside the silent lakes on the +Canadian border, and then went back to the sea again. Two chunky grey +horses with wide foreheads and sagacious eyes propelled him at the rate +of three miles an hour; for these, as their master, had learned the +lesson that if life is to be fully savoured it is not to be bolted. +Silas cooked and ate, and sometimes read under the maples beside the +stone walls: usually he slept in the cart in the midst of the assortment +of goods that proclaimed him, to the astute, an expert in applied +psychology. At first you might have thought Silos merely a peddler, but +if you knew your Thoreau you would presently begin to perceive that +peddling was the paltry price he paid for liberty. Silos was in a way a +sage--but such a human sage! He never intruded with theories, he never +even hinted at the folly of the mortals who bought or despised his goods, +or with whom he chatted by the wayside, though he may have had his ideas +on the subject: it is certain that presently one began to have one's own: +nor did he exclaim with George Sand, "Il n'y a rien de plus betement +mechant que l'habitant des petites villes!" Somehow the meannesses and +jealousies were accounted for, if not excused. To understand is to +pardon. + +It was so like Insall, this book, in its whimsicality, in its feeling of +space and freedom, in its hidden wisdom that gradually revealed itself as +one thought it over before falling off to sleep! New England in the +early summer! Here, beside the tender greens of the Ipswich downs was +the sparkling cobalt of the sea, and she could almost smell its cool salt +breath mingling with the warm odours of hay and the pungent scents of +roadside flowers. Weathered grey cottages were scattered over the +landscape, and dark copses of cedars, while oceanward the eye was caught +by the gleam of a lighthouse or a lonely sail. + +Even in that sandy plain, covered with sickly, stunted pines and burned +patches, stretching westward from the Merrimac, Silas saw beauty and +colour, life in the once prosperous houses not yet abandoned.... +Presently, the hills, all hyacinth blue, rise up against the sunset, and +the horses' feet are on the "Boston Road"--or rud, according to the +authorized pronunciation of that land. Hardly, indeed, in many places, a +"rud" to-day, reverting picturesquely into the forest trail over which +the early inland settlers rode their horses or drove their oxen with +upcountry produce to the sea. They were not a people who sought the +easiest way, and the Boston Road reflects their characters: few valleys +are deep enough to turn it aside; few mountains can appal it: railroads +have given it a wide berth. Here and there the forest opens out to +reveal, on a knoll or "flat," a forgotten village or tavern-stand. Over +the high shelf of Washington Town it runs where the air is keen and the +lakes are blue, where long-stemmed wild flowers nod on its sunny banks, +to reach at length the rounded, classic hills and sentinel mountain that +mark the sheep country of the Connecticut.... + +It was before Janet's convalescence began that Mrs. Maturin had consulted +Insall concerning her proposed experiment in literature. Afterwards he +had left Silliston for a lumber camp on a remote river in northern Maine, +abruptly to reappear, on a mild afternoon late in April, in Augusta +Maturin's garden. The crocuses and tulips were in bloom, and his friend, +in a gardening apron, was on her knees, trowel in hand, assisting a hired +man to set out marigolds and snapdragons. + +"Well, it's time you were home again," she exclaimed, as she rose to +greet him and led him to a chair on the little flagged terrace beside the +windows of her library. "I've got so much to tell you about our +invalid." + +"Our invalid!" Insall retorted. + +"Of course. I look to you to divide the responsibility with me, and +you've shirked by running off to Maine. You found her, you know--and +she's really remarkable." + +"Now see here, Augusta, you can't expect me to share the guardianship of +an attractive and--well, a dynamic young woman. If she affects you this +way, what will she do to me? I'm much too susceptible." + +"Susceptible" she scoffed. "But you can't get out of it. I need you. +I've never been so interested and so perplexed in my life." + +"How is she?" Insall asked. + +"Frankly, I'm worried," said Mrs. Maturin. "At first she seemed to be +getting along beautifully. I read to her, a little every day, and it was +wonderful how she responded to it. I'll tell you about that I've got so +much to tell you! Young Dr. Trent is puzzled, too, it seems there are +symptoms in the case for which he cannot account. Some three weeks ago +he asked me what I made out of her, and I can't make anything--that's the +trouble, except that she seems pathetically grateful, and that I've grown +absurdly fond of her. But she isn't improving as fast as she should, and +Dr. Trent doesn't know whether or not to suspect functional +complications. Her constitution seems excellent, her vitality unusual. +Trent's impressed by her, he inclines to the theory that she has +something on her mind, and if this is so she should get rid of it, tell +it to somebody--in short, tell it to me. I know she's fond of me, but +she's so maddeningly self-contained, and at moments when I look at her +she baffles me, she makes me feel like an atom. Twenty times at least +I've almost screwed up my courage to ask her, but when it comes to the +point, I simply can't do it." + +"You ought to be able to get at it, if any one can," said Insall. + +"I've a notion it may be connected with the strike," Augusta Maturin +continued. "I never could account for her being mixed up in that, +plunging into Syndicalism. It seemed so foreign to her nature. I wish +I'd waited a little longer before telling her about the strike, but one +day she asked me how it had come out--and she seemed to be getting along +so nicely I didn't see any reason for not telling her. I said that the +strike was over, that the millowners had accepted the I.W.W. terms, but +that Antonelli and Jastro had been sent to jail and were awaiting trial +because they had been accused of instigating the murder of a woman who +was shot by a striker aiming at a policeman. It seems that she had seen +that! She told me so quite casually. But she was interested, and I went +on to mention how greatly the strikers were stirred by the arrests, how +they paraded in front of the jail, singing, and how the feeling was +mostly directed against Mr. Ditmar, because he was accused of instigating +the placing of dynamite in the tenements." + +"And you spoke of Mr. Ditmar's death?" Insall inquired. + +"Why yes, I told her how he had been shot in Dover Street by a demented +Italian, and if it hadn't been proved that the Italian was insane and not +a mill worker, the result of the strike might have been different." + +"How did she take it?" + +"Well, she was shocked, of course. She sat up in bed, staring at me, and +then leaned back on the pillows again. I pretended not to notice it--but +I was sorry I'd said anything about it." + +"She didn't say anything?" + +"Not a word." + +"Didn't you know that, before the strike, she was Ditmar's private +stenographer?" + +"No!" Augusta Maturin exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me?" + +"It never occurred to me to tell you," Insall replied. + +"That must have something to do with it!" said Mrs. Maturin. + +Insall got up and walked to the end of the terrace, gazing at a bluebird +on the edge of the lawn. + +"Well, not necessarily," he said, after a while. "Did you ever find out +anything about her family?" + +"Oh, yes, I met the father once, he's been out two or three times, on +Sunday, and came over here to thank me for what I'd done. The mother +doesn't come--she has some trouble, I don't know exactly what. Brooks, I +wish you could see the father, he's so typically unique--if one may use +the expression. A gatekeeper at the Chipperiug Mills!" + +"A gatekeeper?" + +"Yes, and I'm quite sure he doesn't understand to this day how he became +one, or why. He's delightfully naive on the subject of genealogy, and I +had the Bumpus family by heart before he left. That's the form his +remnant of the intellectual curiosity of his ancestors takes. He was +born in Dolton, which was settled by the original Bumpus, back in the +Plymouth Colony days, and if he were rich he'd have a library stuffed +with gritty, yellow-backed books and be a leading light in the Historical +Society. He speaks with that nicety of pronunciation of the old New +Englander, never slurring his syllables, and he has a really fine face, +the kind of face one doesn't often see nowadays. I kept looking at it, +wondering what was the matter with it, and at last I realized what it +lacked--will, desire, ambition,--it was what a second-rate sculptor might +have made of Bradford, for instance. But there is a remnant of fire in +him. Once, when he spoke of the strike, of the foreigners, he grew quite +indignant." + +"He didn't tell you why his daughter had joined the strikers?" Insall +asked. + +"He was just as much at sea about that as you and I are. Of course I +didn't ask him--he asked me if I knew. It's only another proof of her +amazing reticence. And I can imagine an utter absence of sympathy +between them. He accounts for her, of course; he's probably the +unconscious transmitter of qualities the Puritans possessed and tried to +smother. Certainly the fires are alight in her, and yet it's almost +incredible that he should have conveyed them. Of course I haven't seen +the mother." + +"It's curious he didn't mention her having been Ditmar's stenographer," +Insall put in. "Was that reticence?" + +"I hardly think so," Augusta Maturin replied. "It may have been, but the +impression I got was of an incapacity to feel the present. All his +emotions are in the past, most of his conversation was about Bumpuses who +are dead and buried, and his pride in Janet--for he has a pride--seems to +exist because she is their representative. It's extraordinary, but he +sees her present situation, her future, with extraordinary optimism; he +apparently regards her coming to Silliston, even in the condition in +which we found her, as a piece of deserved fortune for which she has to +thank some virtue inherited from her ancestors! Well, perhaps he's +right. If she were not unique, I shouldn't want to keep her here. It's +pure selfishness. I told Mr. Bumpus I expected to find work for her." + +Mrs. Maturin returned Insall's smile. "I suppose you're too polite to +say that I'm carried away by my enthusiasms. But you will at least do me +the justice to admit that they are rare and--discriminating, as a +connoisseur's should be. I think even you will approve of her." + +"Oh, I have approved of her--that's the trouble." + +Mrs. Maturin regarded him for a moment in silence. + +"I wish you could have seen her when I began to read those verses of +Stevenson's. It was an inspirations your thinking of them." + +"Did I think of them?" + +"You know you did. You can't escape your responsibility. Well, I felt +like--like a gambler, as though I were staking everything on a throw. +And, after I began, as if I were playing on some rare instrument. She +lay there, listening, without uttering a word, but somehow she seemed to +be interpreting them for me, giving them a meaning and a beauty I hadn't +imagined. Another time I told her about Silliston, and how this little +community for over a century and a half had tried to keep its standard +flying, to carry on the work begun by old Andrew, and I thought of those +lines, + + "Other little children + Shall bring my boats ashore." + +That particular application just suddenly, occurred to me, but she +inspired it." + +"You're a born schoolma'am," Insall laughed. + +"I'm much too radical for a schoohna'am," she declared. "No board of +trustees would put up with me--not even Silliston's! We've kept the +faith, but we do move slowly, Brooks. Even tradition grows, and +sometimes our blindness here to changes, to modern, scientific facts, +fairly maddens me. I read her that poem of Moody's--you know it:-- + + 'Here, where the moors stretch free + In the high blue afternoon, + Are the marching sun and the talking sea.' + +and those last lines:-- + + 'But thou, vast outbound ship of souls, + What harbour town for thee? + What shapes, when thy arriving tolls, + Shall crowd the banks to see? + Shall all the happy shipmates then + Stand singing brotherly? + Or shall a haggard, ruthless few + Warp her over and bring her to, + While the many broken souls of me + Fester down in the slaver's pen, + And nothing to say or do?'" + +I was sorry afterwards, I could see that she was tremendously excited. +And she made me feel as if I, too, had been battened down in that hold +and bruised and almost strangled. I often wonder whether she has got out +of it into the light--whether we can rescue her." Mrs. Maturin paused. + +"What do you mean?" Insall asked. + +"Well, it's difficult to describe, what I feel--she's such a perplexing +mixture of old New England and modernity, of a fatalism, and an aliveness +that fairly vibrates. At first, when she began to recover, I was +conscious only of the vitality--but lately I feel the other quality. It +isn't exactly the old Puritan fatalism, or even the Greek, it's oddly +modern, too, almost agnostic, I should say,--a calm acceptance of the +hazards of life, of nature, of sun and rain and storm alike--very +different from the cheap optimism one finds everywhere now. She isn't +exactly resigned--I don't say that--I know she can be rebellious. And +she's grateful for the sun, yet she seems to have a conviction that the +clouds will gather again.... The doctor says she may leave the hospital +on Monday, and I'm going to bring her over here for awhile. Then," she +added insinuatingly, "we can collaborate." + +"I think I'll go back to Maine," Insall exclaimed. + +"If you desert me, I shall never speak to you again," said Mrs. Maturin. + +"Janet," said Mrs. Maturin the next day, as she laid down the book from +which she was reading, "do you remember that I spoke to you once in +Hampton of coming here to Silliston? Well, now we've got you here, we +don't want to lose you. I've been making inquiries; quite a number of +the professors have typewriting to be done, and they will be glad to give +their manuscripts to you instead of sending them to Boston. And there's +Brooks Insall too--if he ever takes it into his head to write another +book. You wouldn't have any trouble reading his manuscript, it's like +script. Of course it has to be copied. You can board with Mrs. Case-- +I've arranged that, too. But on Monday I'm going to take you to my +house, and keep you until you're strong enough to walk." + +Janet's eyes were suddenly bright with tears. + +"You'll stay?" + +"I can't," answered Janet. "I couldn't." + +"But why not? Have you any other plans?" + +"No, I haven't any plans, but--I haven't the right to stay here." +Presently she raised her face to her friend. "Oh Mrs. Maturin, I'm so +sorry! I didn't want to bring any sadness here--it's all so bright and +beautiful! And now I've made you sad!" + +It was a moment before Augusta Maturin could answer her. + +"What are friends for, Janet," she asked, "if not to share sorrow with? +And do you suppose there's any place, however bright, where sorrow has +not come? Do you think I've not known it, too? And Janet, I haven't sat +here all these days with you without guessing that something worries you. +I've been waiting, all this time, for you to tell me, in order that I +might help you." + +"I wanted to," said Janet, "every day I wanted to, but I couldn't. I +couldn't bear to trouble you with it, I didn't mean ever to tell you. +And then--it's so terrible, I don't know what you'll think." + +"I think I know you, Janet," answered Mrs. Maturin. "Nothing human, +nothing natural is terrible, in the sense you mean. At least I'm one of +those who believe so." + +Presently Janet said, "I'm going to have a child." + +Mrs. Maturin sat very still. Something closed in her throat, preventing +her immediate reply. + +"I, too, had a child, my dear," she answered. "I lost her." She felt +the girl's clasp tighten on her fingers. + +"But you--you had a right to it--you were married." Children are sacred +things," said Augusta Maturin. + +"Sacred! Could it be that a woman like Mrs. Maturity thought that this +child which was coming to her was sacred, too? + +"However they come?" asked Janet. "Oh, I tried to believe that, too! At +first--at first I didn't want it, and when I knew it was coming I was +driven almost crazy. And then, all at once, when I was walking in the +rain, I knew I wanted it to have--to keep all to myself. You +understand?" + +Augusta Maturity inclined her head. + +"But the father?" she managed to ask, after a moment. "I don't wish to +pry, my dear, but does he--does he realize? Can't he help you?" + +"It was Mr. Ditmar." + +"Perhaps it will help you to tell me about it, Janet." + +"I'd--I'd like to. I've been so unhappy since you told me he was dead-- +and I felt like a cheat. You see, he promised to marry me, and I know +now that he loved me, that he really wanted to marry me, but something +happened to make me believe he wasn't going to, I saw--another girl who'd +got into trouble, and then I thought he'd only been playing with me, and +I couldn't stand it. I joined the strikers--I just had to do something." + +Augusta Maturity nodded, and waited. + +"I was only a stenographer, and we were very poor, and he was rich and +lived in a big house, the most important man in Hampton. It seemed too +good to be true--I suppose I never really thought it could happen. +Please don't think I'm putting all the blame on him, Mrs. Maturity--it +was my fault just as much as his. I ought to have gone away from +Hampton, but I didn't have the strength. And I shouldn't have--" Janet +stopped. + +"But--you loved him?" + +"Yes, I did. For a long time, after I left him, I thought I didn't, I +thought I hated him, and when I found out what had happened to me--that +night I came to you--I got my father's pistol and went to the mill to +shoot him. I was going to shoot myself, too." + +"Oh!" Mrs. Maturity gasped. She gave a quick glance of sheer amazement +at Janet, who did not seem to notice it; who was speaking objectively, +apparently with no sense of the drama in her announcement. + +"But I couldn't," she went on. "At the time I didn't know why I +couldn't, but when I went out I understood it was because I wanted the +child, because it was his child. And though he was almost out of his +head, he seemed so glad because I'd come back to him, and said he'd marry +me right away." + +"And you refused!" exclaimed Mrs. Maturity. + +"Well, you see, I was out of my head, too, I still thought I hated him-- +but I'd loved him all the time. It was funny! He had lots of faults, +and he didn't seem to understand or care much about how poor people feel, +though he was kind to them in the mills. He might have come to +understand--I don't know--it wasn't because he didn't want to, but +because he was so separated from them, I guess, and he was so interested +in what he was doing. He had ambition, he thought everything of that +mill, he'd made it. I don't know why I loved him, it wasn't because he +was fine, like Mr. Insall, but he was strong and brave, and he needed me +and just took me." + +"One never knows!" Augusta Maturity murmured. + +"I went back that night to tell him I'd marry him--and he'd gone. Then I +came to you, to the soup kitchen. I didn't mean to bother you, I've +never quite understood how I got there. I don't care so much what +happens to me, now that I've told you," Janet added. "It was mean, not +to tell you, but I'd never had anything like this--what you were giving +me--and I wanted all I could get." + +"I'm thankful you did come to us!" Augusta Maturin managed to reply. + +"You mean--?" Janet exclaimed. + +"I mean, that we who have been more--fortunate don't look at these things +quite as we used to, that the world is less censorious, is growing to +understand situations it formerly condemned. And--I don't know what kind +of a monster you supposed me to be, Janet." + +"Oh, Mrs. Maturin!" + +"I mean that I'm a woman, too, my dear, although my life has been +sheltered. Otherwise, what has happened to you might have happened to +me. And besides, I am what is called unconventional, I have little +theories of my own about life, and now that you have told me everything I +understand you and love you even more than I did before." + +Save that her breath came fast, Janet lay still against the cushions of +the armchair. She was striving to grasp the momentous and unlooked-for +fact of her friend's unchanged attitude. Then she asked:-- + +"Mrs. Maturin, do you believe in God?" + +Augusta Maturin was startled by the question. "I like to think of Him as +light, Janet, and that we are plants seeking to grow toward Him--no +matter from what dark crevice we may spring. Even in our mistakes and +sins we are seeking Him, for these are ignorances, and as the world +learns more, we shall know Him better and better. It is natural to long +for happiness, and happiness is self-realization, and self-realization is +knowledge and light." + +"That is beautiful," said Janet at length. + +"It is all we can know about God," said Mrs. Maturin, "but it is enough." +She had been thinking rapidly. "And now," she went on, "we shall have to +consider what is to be done. I don't pretend that the future will be +easy, but it will not be nearly as hard for you as it might have been, +since I am your friend, and I do not intend to desert you. I'm sure you +will not let it crush you. In the first place, you will have something +to go on with--mental resources, I mean, for which you have a natural +craving, books and art and nature, the best thoughts and the best +interpretations. We can give you these. And you will have your child, +and work to do, for I'm sure you're industrious. And of course I'll keep +your secret, my dear." + +"But--how?" Janet exclaimed. + +"I've arranged it all. You'll stay here this spring, you'll come to my +house on Monday, just as we planned, and later on you may go to Mrs. +Case's, if it will make you feel more independent, and do typewriting +until the spring term is over. I've told you about my little camp away +up in Canada, in the heart of the wilderness, where I go in summer. +We'll stay there until the autumn, until your baby comes, and, after +that, I know it won't be difficult to get you a position in the west, +where you can gain your living and have your child. I have a good friend +in California who I'm sure will help you. And even if your secret should +eventually be discovered--which is not probable--you will have earned +respect, and society is not as stern as it used to be. And you will +always have me for a friend. There, that's the bright side of it. Of +course it isn't a bed of roses, but I've lived long enough to observe +that the people who lie on roses don't always have the happiest lives. +Whenever you want help and advice, I shall always be here, and from time +to time I'll be seeing you. Isn't that sensible?" + +"Oh, Mrs. Maturin--if you really want me--still?" + +"I do want you, Janet, even more than I did--before, because you need me +more," Mrs. Maturin replied, with a sincerity that could not fail to +bring conviction.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +As the spring progressed, Janet grew stronger, became well again, and +through the kindness of Dr. Ledyard, the principal, was presently +installed with a typewriter in a little room in an old building belonging +to the Academy in what was called Bramble Street, and not far from the +Common. Here, during the day, she industriously copied manuscripts' or, +from her notebook, letters dictated by various members of the faculty. +And she was pleased when they exclaimed delightedly at the flawless +copies and failed to suspect her of frequent pilgrimages to the +dictionary in the library in order to familiarize herself with the +meaning and manner of spelling various academic words. At first it was +almost bewildering to find herself in some degree thus sharing the +Silliston community life; and an unpremeditated attitude toward these +learned ones, high priests of the muses she had so long ignorantly +worshipped, accounted perhaps for a great deal in their attitude toward +her. Her fervour, repressed yet palpable, was like a flame burning +before their altars--a flattery to which the learned, being human, are +quick to respond. Besides, something of her history was known, and she +was of a type to incite a certain amount of interest amongst these +discerning ones. Often, after she had taken their dictation, or brought +their manuscripts home, they detained her in conversation. In short, +Silliston gave its approval to this particular experiment of Augusta +Maturin. As for Mrs. Maturin herself, her feeling was one of controlled +pride not unmixed with concern, always conscious as she was of the hidden +element of tragedy in the play she had so lovingly staged. Not that she +had any compunction in keeping Janet's secret, even from Insall; but +sometimes as she contemplated it the strings of her heart grew tight. +Silliston was so obviously where Janet belonged, she could not bear the +thought of the girl going out again from this sheltered spot into a +chaotic world of smoke and struggle. + +Janet's own feelings were a medley. It was not, of course, contentment +she knew continually, nor even peace, although there were moments when +these stole over her. There were moments, despite her incredible good +fortune, of apprehension when she shrank from the future, when fear +assailed her; moments of intense sadness at the thought of leaving her +friends, of leaving this enchanted place now that miraculously she had +found it; moments of stimulation, of exaltation, when she forgot. Her +prevailing sense, as she found herself again, was of thankfulness and +gratitude, of determination to take advantage of, to drink in all of this +wonderful experience, lest any precious memory be lost. + +Like a jewel gleaming with many facets, each sunny day was stored and +treasured. As she went from Mrs. Case's boarding-house forth to her +work, the sweet, sharp air of these spring mornings was filled with +delicious smells of new things, of new flowers and new grass and tender, +new leaves of myriad shades, bronze and crimson, fuzzy white, primrose, +and emerald green. And sometimes it seemed as though the pink and white +clouds of the little orchards were wafted into swooning scents. She +loved best the moment when the Common came in view, when through the rows +of elms the lineaments of those old houses rose before her, lineaments +seemingly long familiar, as of old and trusted friends, and yet ever +stirring new harmonies and new visions. Here, in their midst, she +belonged, and here, had the world been otherwise ordained, she might have +lived on in one continuous, shining spring. At the corner of the Common, +foursquare, ample, painted a straw colour trimmed with white, with its +high chimneys and fan-shaped stairway window, its balustraded terrace +porch open to the sky, was the eighteenth century mansion occupied by Dr. +Ledyard. What was the secret of its flavour? And how account for the +sense of harmony inspired by another dwelling, built during the term of +the second Adams, set in a frame of maples and shining white in the +morning sun? Its curved portico was capped by a wrought-iron railing, +its long windows were touched with purple, and its low garret--set like a +deckhouse on the wide roof--suggested hidden secrets of the past. Here a +Motley or a Longfellow might have dwelt, a Bryant penned his +"Thanatopsis." Farther on, chequered by shade, stood the quaint brick +row of professors' houses, with sloping eaves and recessed entrances of +granite--a subject for an old English print.... Along the border of the +Common were interspersed among the ancient dormitories and halls the new +and dignified buildings of plum-coloured brick that still preserved the +soul of Silliston. And to it the soul of Janet responded. + +In the late afternoon, when her tasks were finished, Janet would cross +the Common to Mrs. Maturin's--a dwelling typical of the New England of +the past, with the dimensions of a cottage and something of the dignity +of a mansion. Fluted white pilasters adorned the corners, the windows +were protected by tiny eaves, the roof was guarded by a rail; the +classically porched entrance was approached by a path between high +clipped hedges of hemlock; and through the library, on the right, you +reached the flagged terrace beside a garden, rioting in the carnival +colours of spring. By September it would have changed. For there is +one glory of the hyacinth, of the tulip and narcissus and the jonquil, +and another of the Michaelmas daisy and the aster. + +Insall was often there, and on Saturdays and Sundays he took Mrs. Maturin +and Janet on long walks into the country. There were afternoons when the +world was flooded with silver light, when the fields were lucent in the +sun; and afternoons stained with blue,--the landscape like a tapestry +woven in delicate grins on a ground of indigo. The arbutus, all aglow +and fragrant beneath its leaves, the purple fringed polygala were past, +but they found the pale gold lily of the bellwort, the rust-red bloom of +the ginger. In the open spaces under the sky were clouds of bluets, wild +violets, and white strawberry flowers clustering beside the star moss all +ashimmer with new green. The Canada Mayflower spread a carpet under the +pines; and in the hollows where the mists settled, where the brooks +flowed, where the air was heavy with the damp, ineffable odour of growing +things, they gathered drooping adder's-tongues, white-starred bloodroots +and foam-flowers. From Insall's quick eye nothing seemed to escape. He +would point out to them the humming-bird that hovered, a bright blur, +above the columbine, the woodpecker glued to the trunk of a maple high +above their heads, the red gleam of a tanager flashing through sunlit +foliage, the oriole and vireo where they hid. And his was the ear that +first caught the exquisite, distant note of the hermit. Once he stopped +them, startled, to listen to the cock partridge drumming to its mate.... + +Sometimes, of an evening, when Janet was helping Mrs. Maturin in her +planting or weeding, Insall would join them, rolling up the sleeves of +his flannel shirt and kneeling beside them in the garden paths. Mrs. +Maturin was forever asking his advice, though she did not always follow +it. + +"Now, Brooks," she would say, "you've just got to suggest something to +put in that border to replace the hyacinths." + +"I had larkspur last year--you remember--and it looked like a chromo in a +railroad folder." + +"Let me see--did I advise larkspur?" he would ask. + +"Oh, I'm sure you must have--I always do what you tell me. It seems to +me I've thought of every possible flower in the catalogue. You know, +too, only you're so afraid of committing yourself." + +Insall's comic spirit, betrayed by his expressions, by the quizzical +intonations of his voice, never failed to fill Janet with joy, while it +was somehow suggestive, too, of the vast fund of his resource. Mrs. +Maturin was right, he could have solved many of her questions offhand if +he had so wished, but he had his own method of dealing with appeals. His +head tilted on one side, apparently in deep thought over the problem, he +never answered outright, but by some process of suggestion unfathomable +to Janet, and by eliminating, not too deprecatingly, Mrs. Maturin's +impatient proposals, brought her to a point where she blurted out the +solution herself. + +"Oriental poppies! How stupid of me not to think of them!" + +"How stupid of me!" Insall echoed--and Janet, bending over her weeding, +made sure they had been in his mind all the while. + +Augusta Maturin's chief extravagance was books; she could not bear to +await her turn at the library, and if she liked a book she wished to own +it. Subscribing to several reviews, three English and one American, she +scanned them eagerly every week and sent in orders to her Boston +bookseller. As a consequence the carved walnut racks on her library +table were constantly being strained. A good book, she declared, ought +to be read aloud, and discussed even during its perusal. And thus Janet, +after an elementary and decidedly unique introduction to worth-while +literature in the hospital, was suddenly plunged into the vortex of +modern thought. The dictum Insall quoted, that modern culture depended +largely upon what one had not read, was applied to her; a child of the +new environment fallen into skilful hands, she was spared the boredom of +wading through the so-called classics which, though useful as milestones, +as landmarks for future reference, are largely mere reminders of an +absolute universe now vanished. The arrival of a novel, play, or +treatise by one of that small but growing nucleus of twentieth century +seers was an event, and often a volume begun in the afternoon was taken +up again after supper. While Mrs. Maturin sat sewing on the other side +of the lamp, Janet had her turn at reading. From the first she had been +quick to note Mrs. Maturin's inflections, and the relics of a high-school +manner were rapidly eliminated. The essence of latter-day realism and +pragmatism, its courageous determination to tear away a veil of which she +had always been dimly aware, to look the facts of human nature in the +face, refreshed her: an increasing portion of it she understood; and she +was constantly under the spell of the excitement that partially grasps, +that hovers on the verge of inspiring discoveries. This excitement, +whenever Insall chanced to be present, was intensified, as she sat a +silent but often quivering listener to his amusing and pungent comments +on these new ideas. His method of discussion never failed to illuminate +and delight her, and often, when she sat at her typewriter the next day, +she would recall one of his quaint remarks that suddenly threw a bright +light on some matter hitherto obscure.... Occasionally a novel or a play +was the subject of their talk, and then they took a delight in drawing +her out, in appealing to a spontaneous judgment unhampered by +pedagogically implanted preconceptions. Janet would grow hot from +shyness. + +"Say what you think, my dear," Mrs. Maturin would urge her. "And +remember that your own opinion is worth more than Shakespeare's or +Napoleon's!" + +Insall would escort her home to Mrs. Case's boarding house.... + +One afternoon early in June Janet sat in her little room working at her +letters when Brooks Insall came in. "I don't mean to intrude in business +hours, but I wanted to ask if you would do a little copying for me," he +said, and he laid on her desk a parcel bound with characteristic +neatness. + +"Something you've written?" she exclaimed, blushing with pleasure and +surprise. He was actually confiding to her one of his manuscripts! + +"Well--yes," he replied comically, eyeing her. + +"I'll be very careful with it. I'll do it right away." + +"There's no particular hurry," he assured her. "The editor's waited six +months for it--another month or so won't matter." + +"Another month or so!" she ejaculated,--but he was gone. Of course she +couldn't have expected him to remain and talk about it; but this +unexpected exhibition of shyness concerning his work--so admired by the +world's choicer spirits--thrilled yet amused her, and made her glow with +a new understanding. With eager fingers she undid the string and sat +staring at the regular script without taking in, at first, the meaning of +a single sentence. It was a comparatively short sketch entitled "The +Exile," in which shining, winged truths and elusive beauties flitted +continually against a darkbackground of Puritan oppression; the story of +one Basil Grelott, a dreamer of Milton's day, Oxford nurtured, who, +casting off the shackles of dogma and manmade decrees, sailed with his +books to the New England wilderness across the sea. There he lived, +among the savages, in peace and freedom until the arrival of Winthrop and +his devotees, to encounter persecution from those who themselves had fled +from it. The Lord's Brethren, he averred, were worse than the Lord's +Bishops--Blackstone's phrase. Janet, of course, had never heard of +Blackstone, some of whose experiences Insall had evidently used. And the +Puritans dealt with Grelott even as they would have served the author of +"Paradise Lost" himself, especially if he had voiced among them the +opinions set forth in his pamphlet on divorce. A portrait of a stern +divine with his infallible Book gave Janet a vivid conception of the +character of her ancestors; and early Boston, with yellow candlelight +gleaming from the lantern-like windows of the wooden, Elizabethan houses, +was unforgettably etched. There was an inquisition in a freezing barn of +a church, and Basil Grelott banished to perish amid the forest. in his +renewed quest for freedom.... After reading the manuscript, Janet sat +typewriting into the night, taking it home with her and placing it +besides her bed, lest it be lost to posterity. By five the next evening +she had finished the copy. + +A gentle rain had fallen during the day, but had ceased as she made her +way toward Insall's house. The place was familiar now: she had been +there to supper with Mrs. Maturin, a supper cooked and served by Martha +Vesey, an elderly, efficient and appallingly neat widow, whom Insall had +discovered somewhere in his travels and installed as his housekeeper. +Janet paused with her hand on the gate latch to gaze around her, at the +picket fence on which he had been working when she had walked hither the +year before. It was primly painted now, its posts crowned with the +carved pineapples; behind the fence old-fashioned flowers were in bloom, +lupins and false indigo; and the retaining wall of blue-grey slaty stone, +which he had laid that spring, was finished. A wind stirred the maple, +releasing a shower of heavy drops, and she opened the gate and went up +the path and knocked at the door. There was no response--even Martha +must be absent, in the village! Janet was disappointed, she had looked +forward to seeing him, to telling him how great had been her pleasure in +the story he had written, at the same time doubting her courage to do so. +She had never been able to speak to him about his work and what did her +opinion matter to him? As she turned away the stillness was broken by a +humming sound gradually rising to a crescendo, so she ventured slowly +around the house and into the orchard of gnarled apple trees on the slope +until she came insight of a little white building beside the brook. The +weathervane perched on the gable, and veering in the wet breeze, seemed +like a live fish swimming in its own element; and through the open window +she saw Insall bending over a lathe, from which the chips were flying. +She hesitated. Then he looked up, and seeing her, reached above his head +to pull the lever that shut off the power. + +"Come in," he called out, and met her at the doorway. He was dressed in +a white duck shirt, open at the neck, and a pair of faded corduroy +trousers. "I wasn't looking for this honour," he told her, with a +gesture of self-deprecation, "or I'd have put on a dinner coat." + +And, despite her eagerness and excitement, she laughed. + +"I didn't dare to leave this in the house," she explained. Mrs. Vesey +wasn't home. And I thought you might be here." + +"You haven't made the copy already!" + +"Oh, I loved doing it!" she replied, and paused, flushing. She might +have known that it would be simply impossible to talk to him about it! +So she laid it down on the workbench, and, overcome by a sudden shyness, +retreated toward the door. + +"You're not going!" he exclaimed. + +"I must--and you're busy." + +"Not at all," he declared, "not at all, I was just killing time until +supper. Sit down!" And he waved her to a magisterial-looking chair of +Jacobean design, with turned legs, sandpapered and immaculate, that stood +in the middle of the shop. + +"Oh, not in that!" Janet protested. "And besides, I'd spoil it--I'm sure +my skirt is wet." + +But he insisted, thrusting it under her. "You've come along just in +time, I wanted a woman to test it--men are no judges of chairs. There's +a vacuum behind the small of your back, isn't there? Augusta will have +to put a cushion in it." + +"Did you make it for Mrs. Maturin? She will be Pleased!" exclaimed +Janet, as she sat down. "I don't think it's uncomfortable." + +"I copied it from an old one in the Boston Art Museum. Augusta saw it +there, and said she wouldn't be happy until she had one like it. But +don't tell her." + +"Not for anything!" Janet got to her feet again. "I really must be +going." + +"Going where?" + +"I told Mrs. Maturin I'd read that new book to her. I couldn't go +yesterday--I didn't want to go," she added, fearing he might think his +work had kept her. + +"Well, I'll walk over with you. She asked me to make a little design for +a fountain, you know, and I'll have to get some measurements." + +As they emerged from the shop and climbed the slope Janet tried to fight +off the sadness that began to invade her. Soon she would have to be +leaving all this! Her glance lingered wistfully on the old farmhouse +with its great centre chimney from which the smoke was curling, with its +diamond-paned casements Insall had put into the tiny frames. + +"What queer windows!" she said. "But they seem to go with the house, +beautifully." + +"You think so?" His tone surprised her; it had a touch more of +earnestness than she had ever before detected. "They belong to that type +of house the old settlers brought the leaded glass with them. Some +people think they're cold, but I've arranged to make them fairly tight. +You see, I've tried to restore it as it must have been when it was +built." + +"And these?" she asked, pointing to the millstones of different diameters +that made the steps leading down to the garden. + +"Oh, that's an old custom, but they are nice," he agreed. "I'll just put +this precious manuscript inside and get my foot rule," he added, opening +the door, and she stood awaiting him on the threshold, confronted by the +steep little staircase that disappeared into the wall half way up. At +her left was the room where he worked, and which once had been the +farmhouse kitchen. She took a few steps into it, and while he was +searching in the table drawer she halted before the great chimney over +which, against the panel, an old bell-mouthed musket hung. Insall came +over beside her. + +"Those were trees!" he said. "That panel's over four feet across, I +measured it once. I dare say the pine it was cut from grew right where +we are standing, before the land was cleared to build the house." + +"But the gun?" she questioned. "You didn't have it the night we came to +supper." + +"No, I ran across it at a sale in Boston. The old settler must have +owned one like that. I like to think of him, away off here in the +wilderness in those early days." + +She thought of how Insall had made those early days live for her, in his +story of Basil Grelott. But to save her soul, wen with such an opening, +she could not speak of it. + +"He had to work pretty hard, of course," Insall continued, "but I dare +say he had a fairly happy life, no movies, no Sunday supplements, no +automobiles or gypsy moths. His only excitement was to trudge ten miles +to Dorset and listen to a three hour sermon on everlasting fire and +brimstone by a man who was supposed to know. No wonder he slept soundly +and lived to be over ninety!" + +Insall was standing with his head thrown back, his eyes stilt seemingly +fixed on the musket that had suggested his remark--a pose eloquent, she +thought, of the mental and physical balance of the man. She wondered +what belief gave him the free mastery of soul and body he possessed. +Some firm conviction, she was sure, must energise him yet she respected +him the more for concealing it. + +"It's hard to understand such a terrible religion!" she cried. "I don't +see how those old settlers could believe in it, when there are such +beautiful things in the world, if we only open our eyes and look for +them. Oh Mr. Insall, I wish I could tell you how I felt when I read your +story, and when Mrs. Maturin read me those other books of yours." + +She stopped breathlessly, aghast at her boldness--and then, suddenly, a +barrier between them seemed to break down, and for the first time since +she had known him she felt near to him. He could not doubt the sincerity +of her tribute. + +"You like them as much as that, Janet?" he said, looking at her. + +"I can't tell you how much, I can't express myself. And I want to tell +you something else, Mr. Insall, while I have the chance--how just being +with you and Mrs. Maturin has changed me. I can face life now, you have +shown me so much in it I never saw before." + +"While you have the chance?" he repeated. + +"Yes." She strove to go on cheerfully, "Now I've said it, I feel better, +I promise not to mention it again. I knew--you didn't think me +ungrateful. It's funny," she added, "the more people have done for you- +when they've given you everything, life and hope,--the harder it is to +thank them." She turned her face away, lest he might see that her eyes +were wet. "Mrs. Maturin will be expecting us." + +"Not yet," she heard him say, and felt his hand on her arm. "You haven't +thought of what you're doing for me." + +"What I'm doing for you!" she echoed. "What hurts me most, when I think +about it, is that I'll never be able to do anything." + +"Why do you say that?" he asked. + +"If I only could believe that some day I might be able to help you--just +a little--I should be happier. All I have, all I am I owe to you and +Mrs. Maturin." + +"No, Janet," he answered. "What you are is you, and it's more real than +anything we could have put into you. What you have to give is-- +yourself." His fingers trembled on her arm, but she saw him smile a +little before he spoke again. "Augusta Maturin was right when she said +that you were the woman I needed. I didn't realize it then perhaps she +didn't--but now I'm sure of it. Will you come to me?" + +She stood staring at him, as in terror, suddenly penetrated by a dismay +that sapped her strength, and she leaned heavily against the fireplace, +clutching the mantel-shelf. + +"Don't!" she pleaded. "Please don't--I can't." + +"You can't!... Perhaps, after a while, you may come to feel differently +--I didn't mean to startle you," she heard him reply gently. This +humility, in him, was unbearable. + +"Oh, it isn't that--it isn't that! If I could, I'd be willing to serve +you all my life--I wouldn't ask for anything more. I never thought that +this would happen. I oughtn't to have stayed in Silliston." + +"You didn't suspect that I loved you?" + +"How could I? Oh, I might have loved you, if I'd been fortunate--if I'd +deserved it. But I never thought, I always looked up to you--you are so +far above me!" She lifted her face to him in agony. "I'm sorry--I'm +sorry for you--I'll never forgive myself!" + +"It's--some one else?" he asked. + +"I was--going to be married to--to Mr. Ditmar," she said slowly, +despairingly. + +"But even then--" Insall began. + +"You don't understand!" she cried. "What will you think of me?--Mrs. +Maturin was to have told you, after I'd gone. It's--it's the same as if +I were married to him--only worse." + +"Worse!" Insall repeated uncomprehendingly.... And then she was aware +that he had left her side. He was standing by the window. + +A thrush began to sing in the maple. She stole silently toward the door, +and paused to look back at him, once to meet his glance. He had turned. + +"I can't--I can't let you go like this!" she heard him say, but she fled +from him, out of the gate and toward the Common.... + +When Janet appeared, Augusta Maturin was in her garden. With an instant +perception that something was wrong, she went to the girl and led her to +the sofa in the library. There the confession was made. + +"I never guessed it," Janet sobbed. "Oh, Mrs. Maturin, you'll believe +me--won't you?" + +"Of course I believe you, Janet," Augusta Maturity replied, trying to +hide her pity, her own profound concern and perplexity. "I didn't +suspect it either. If I had--" + +"You wouldn't have brought me here, you wouldn't have asked me to stay +with you. But I was to blame, I oughtn't to have stayed, I knew all +along that something would happen--something terrible that I hadn't any +right to stay." + +"Who could have foreseen it!" her friend exclaimed helplessly. "Brooks +isn't like any other man I've ever known--one can never tell what he has +in mind. Not that I'm surprised as I look back upon it all!" + +"I've hurt him!" + +Augusta Maturity was silent awhile. "Remember, my dear," she begged, +"you haven't only yourself to think about, from now on." + +But comfort was out of the question, the task of calming the girl +impossible. Finally the doctor was sent for, and she was put to bed.... + +Augusta Maturity spent an agonized, sleepless night, a prey of many +emotions; of self-reproach, seeing now that she had been wrong in not +telling Brooks Insall of the girl's secret; of sorrow and sympathy for +him; of tenderness toward the girl, despite the suffering she had +brought; of unwonted rebellion against a world that cheated her of this +cherished human tie for which she had longed the first that had come into +her life since her husband and child had gone. And there was her own +responsibility for Insall's unhappiness--when she recalled with a pang +her innocent sayings that Janet was the kind of woman he, an artist, +should marry! And it was true--if he must marry. He himself had seen +it. Did Janet love him? or did she still remember Ditmar? Again and +again, during the summer that followed, this query was on her lips, but +remained unspoken.... + +The next day Insall disappeared. No one knew where he had gone, but his +friends in Silliston believed he had been seized by one of his sudden, +capricious fancies for wandering. For many months his name was not +mentioned between Augusta Maturity and Janet. By the middle of June they +had gone to Canada.... + +In order to reach the camp on Lac du Sablier from the tiny railroad +station at Saint Hubert, a trip of some eight miles up the decharge was +necessary. The day had been when Augusta Maturity had done her share of +paddling and poling, with an habitant guide in the bow. She had foreseen +all the needs of this occasion, warm clothes for Janet, who was wrapped +in blankets and placed on cushions in the middle of a canoe, while she +herself followed in a second, from time to time exclaiming, in a +reassuring voice, that one had nothing to fear in the hands of Delphin +and Herve, whom she had known intimately for more than twenty years. It +was indeed a wonderful, exciting, and at moments seemingly perilous +journey up the forested aisle of the river: at sight of the first roaring +reach of rapids Janet held her breathso incredible did it appear that any +human power could impel and guide a boat up the white stairway between +the boulders! Was it not courting destruction? Yet she felt a strange, +wild delight in the sense of danger, of amazement at the woodsman's eye +that found and followed the crystal paths through the waste of foam.... +There were long, quiet stretches, hemmed in by alders, where the canoes, +dodging the fallen trees, glided through the still water... No such +silent, exhilarating motion Janet had ever known. Even the dipping +paddles made no noise, though sometimes there was a gurgle, as though a +fish had broken the water behind them; sometimes, in the shining pools +ahead, she saw the trout leap out. At every startling flop Delphin would +exclaim: "Un gros!" From an upper branch of a spruce a kingfisher darted +like an arrow into the water, making a splash like a falling stone. +Once, after they had passed through the breach of a beaver dam, Herve +nodded his head toward a mound of twigs by the bank and muttered +something. Augusta Maturin laughed. + +"Cabane de castor, he says--a beaver cabin. And the beavers made the dam +we just passed. Did you notice, Janet, how beautifully clean those logs +had been cut by their sharp teeth?" + +At moments she conversed rapidly with Delphin in the same patois Janet +had heard on the streets of Hampton. How long ago that seemed! + +On two occasions, when the falls were sheer, they had to disembark and +walk along little portages through the green raspberry bushes. The +prints of great hooves in the black silt betrayed where wild animals had +paused to drink. They stopped for lunch on a warm rock beside a singing +waterfall, and at last they turned an elbow in the stream and with +suddenly widened vision beheld the lake's sapphire expanse and the +distant circle of hills. "Les montagnes," Herve called them as he flung +out his pipe, and this Janet could translate for herself. Eastward they +lay lucent in the afternoon light; westward, behind the generous log camp +standing on a natural terrace above the landing, they were in shadow. +Here indeed seemed peace, if remoteness, if nature herself might bestow +it. + +Janet little suspected that special preparations had been made for her +comfort. Early in April, while the wilderness was still in the grip of +winter, Delphin had been summoned from a far-away lumber camp to Saint +Hubert, where several packing-cases and two rolls of lead pipe from +Montreal lay in a shed beside the railroad siding. He had superintended +the transportation of these, on dog sledges, up the frozen decharge, +accompanied on his last trip by a plumber of sorts from Beaupre, thirty +miles down the line; and between them they had improvised a bathroom, and +attached a boiler to the range! Only a week before the arrival of Madame +the spring on the hillside above the camp had been tapped, and the pipe +laid securely underground. Besides this unheard-of luxury for the Lac du +Sablier there were iron beds and mattresses and little wood stoves to go +in the four bedrooms, which were more securely chinked with moss. The +traditions of that camp had been hospitable. In Professor Wishart's day +many guests had come and gone, or pitched their tents nearby; and Augusta +Maturin, until this summer, had rarely been here alone, although she had +no fears of the wilderness, and Delphin brought his daughter Delphine to +do the housework and cooking. The land for miles round about was owned +by a Toronto capitalist who had been a friend of her father, and who +could afford as a hobby the sparing of the forest. By his permission a +few sportsmen came to fish or shoot, and occasionally their campfires +could be seen across the water, starlike glows in the darkness of the +night, at morning and evening little blue threads of smoke that rose +against the forest; "bocane," Delphin called it, and Janet found a sweet, +strange magic in these words of the pioneer. + +The lake was a large one, shaped like an hourglass, as its name implied, +and Augusta Maturin sometimes paddled Janet through the wide, shallow +channel to the northern end, even as she had once paddled Gifford. Her +genius was for the helpless. One day, when the waters were high, and the +portages could be dispensed with, they made an excursion through the +Riviere des Peres to the lake of that name, the next in the chain above. +For luncheon they ate the trout Augusta caught; and in the afternoon, +when they returned to the mouth of the outlet, Herve, softly checking the +canoe with his paddle, whispered the word "Arignal!" Thigh deep in the +lush grasses of the swamp was an animal with a huge grey head, like a +donkey's, staring foolishly in their direction--a cow moose. With a +tremendous commotion that awoke echoes in the forest she tore herself +from the mud and disappeared, followed by her panic-stricken offspring, a +caricature of herself.... + +By September the purple fireweed that springs up beside old camps, and in +the bois brute, had bloomed and scattered its myriad, impalpable +thistledowns over crystal floors. Autumn came to the Laurentians. In +the morning the lake lay like a quicksilver pool under the rising mists, +through which the sun struck blinding flashes of light. A little later, +when the veil had lifted, it became a mirror for the hills and crags, the +blue reaches of the sky. The stinging air was spiced with balsam. +Revealed was the incredible brilliance of another day,--the arsenic-green +of the spruce, the red and gold of the maples, the yellow of the alders +bathing in the shallows, of the birches, whose white limbs could be seen +gleaming in the twilight of the thickets. Early, too early, the sun fell +down behind the serrated forest-edge of the western hill, a ball of +orange fire.... One evening Delphin and Herve, followed by two other +canoes, paddled up to the landing. New visitors had arrived, Dr. McLeod, +who had long been an intimate of the Wishart family, and with him a +buxom, fresh-complexioned Canadian woman, a trained nurse whom he had +brought from Toronto. + +There, in nature's wilderness, Janet knew the supreme experience of +women, the agony, the renewal and joy symbolic of nature herself. When +the child was bathed and dressed in the clothes Augusta Maturin herself +had made for it, she brought it into the room to the mother. + +"It's a daughter," she announced. + +Janet regarded the child wistfully. "I hoped it would be a boy," she +said. "He would have had--a better chance." But she raised her arms, +and the child was laid in the bed beside her. + +"We'll see that she has a chance, my dear," Augusta Maturin replied, as +she kissed her. + +Ten days went by, Dr. McLeod lingered at Lac du Sablier, and Janet was +still in bed. Even in this life-giving air she did not seem to grow +stronger. Sometimes, when the child was sleeping in its basket on the +sunny porch, Mrs. Maturin read to her; but often when she was supposed to +rest, she lay gazing out of the open window into silver space listening +to the mocking laughter of the loons, watching the ducks flying across +the sky; or, as evening drew on, marking in the waters a steely angle +that grew and grew--the wake of a beaver swimming homeward in the +twilight. In the cold nights the timbers cracked to the frost, she heard +the owls calling to one another from the fastnesses of the forest, and +thought of life's inscrutable mystery. Then the child would be brought +to her. It was a strange, unimagined happiness she knew when she felt it +clutching at her breasts, at her heart, a happiness not unmixed with +yearning, with sadness as she pressed it to her. Why could it not remain +there always, to comfort her, to be nearer her than any living thing? +Reluctantly she gave it back to the nurse, wistfully her eyes followed +it.... + +Twice a week, now, Delphin and Herve made the journey to Saint Hubert, +and one evening, after Janet had watched them paddling across the little +bay that separated the camp from the outlet's mouth, Mrs. Maturin +appeared, with an envelope in her hand. + +"I've got a letter from Brooks Insall, Janet," she said, with a well- +disguised effort to speak naturally. "It's not the first one he's sent +me, but I haven't mentioned the others. He's in Silliston--and I wrote +him about the daughter." + +"Yes," said Janet. + +"Well--he wants to come up here, to see you, before we go away. He asks +me to telegraph your permission." + +"Oh no, he mustn't, Mrs. Maturin!" + +"You don't care to see him?" + +"It isn't that. I'd like to see him if things had been different. But +now that I've disappointed him--hurt him, I couldn't stand it. I know +it's only his kindness." + +After a moment Augusta Maturin handed Janet a sealed envelope she held in +her hand. + +"He asked me to give you this," she said, and left the room. Janet read +it, and let it fall on the bedspread, where it was still lying when her +friend returned and began tidying the room. From the direction of the +guide's cabin, on the point, came the sounds of talk and laughter, broken +by snatches of habitant songs. Augusta Maturin smiled. She pretended +not to notice the tears in Janet's eyes, and strove to keep back her own. + +"Delphin and Herve saw a moose in the decharge," she explained. "Of +course it was a big one, it always is! They're telling the doctor about +it." + +"Mrs. Maturin," said Janet, "I'd like to talk to you. I think I ought to +tell you what Mr. Insall says." + +"Yes, my dear," her friend replied, a little faintly, sitting down on the +bed. + +"He asks me to believe what--I've done makes no difference to him. Of +course he doesn't put it in so many words, but he says he doesn't care +anything about conventions," Janet continued slowly. "What I told him +when he asked me to marry him in Silliston was a shock to him, it was so- +-so unexpected. He went away, to Maine, but as soon as he began to think +it all over he wanted to come and tell me that he loved me in spite of +it, but he felt he couldn't, under the circumstances, that he had to wait +until--now. Although I didn't give him any explanation, he wants me to +know that he trusts me, he understands--it's because, he says, I am what +I am. He still wishes to marry me, to take care of me and the child. We +could live in California, at first--he's always been anxious to go there, +he says." + +"Well, my dear?" Augusta Maturin forced herself to say at last. + +"It's so generous--so like him!" Janet exclaimed. "But of course I +couldn't accept such a sacrifice, even if--" She paused. "Oh, it's made +me so sad all summer to think that he's unhappy because of me!" + +"I know, Janet, but you should realize, as I told you in Silliston, that +it isn't by any deliberate act of your own, it's just one of those things +that occur in this world and that can't be foreseen or avoided." Augusta +Maturin spoke with an effort. In spite of Janet's apparent calm, she had +never been more acutely aware of the girl's inner suffering. + +"I know," said Janet. "But it's terrible to think that those things we +unintentionally do, perhaps because of faults we have previously +committed, should have the same effect as acts that are intentional." + +"The world is very stupid. All suffering, I think, is brought about by +stupidity. If we only could learn to look at ourselves as we are! It's +a stupid, unenlightened society that metes out most of our punishments +and usually demands a senseless expiation." Augusta Maturin waited, and +presently Janet spoke again. + +"I've been thinking all summer, Mrs. Maturin. There was so much I wanted +to talk about with you, but I wanted to be sure of myself first. And +now, since the baby came, and I know I'm not going to get well, I seem to +see things much more clearly." + +"Why do you say you're not going to get well, Janet? In this air, and +with the child to live for!" + +"I know it. Dr. McLeod knows it, or he wouldn't be staying here, and +you've both been too kind to tell me. You've been so kind, Mrs. Maturin-- +I can't talk about it. But I'm sure I'm going to die, I've really known +it ever since we left Silliston. Something's gone out of me, the thing +that drove me, that made me want to live--I can't express what I mean any +other way. Perhaps it's this child, the new life--perhaps I've just been +broken, I don't know. You did your best to mend me, and that's one thing +that makes me sad. And the thought of Mr. Insall's another. In some +ways it would have been worse to live--I couldn't have ruined his life. +And even if things had been different, I hadn't come to love him, in that +way--it's queer, because he's such a wonderful person. I'd like to live +for the child, if only I had the strength, the will left in me--but +that's gone. And maybe I could save her from--what I've been through." + +Augusta Maturin took Janet's hand in hers. + +"Janet," she said, "I've been a lonely woman, as you know, with nothing +to look forward to. I've always wanted a child since my little Edith +went. I wanted you, my dear, I want your child, your daughter--as I want +nothing else in the world. I will take her, I will try to bring her up +in the light, and Brooks Insall will help me...." + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Love is nothing but attraction between the sexes +Mercifully, however, she had little leisure to reflect +Too much reason in the world, too little impulse and feeling + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of The Dwelling Place of Light, V3 +by Winston Churchill + diff --git a/old/wc04v11.zip b/old/wc04v11.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8dfedc2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wc04v11.zip |